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the-boy-meets-evil · 2 months

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on second thought | jww

(where your roommate, wonwoo, has an interesting solution to all your bad dates. nothing can go wrong with two friends crossing a line, can it?)

pairing: wonwoo x f.reader genre: roommates/friends to fwb to?? | smut, tiny bit of angst if you squint rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni word count: 6.5k warnings: there's some plot here but it's mostly smut, multiple sex scenes (some quickly referenced), roommates who enter a fwb agreement, kissing, fingering, oral (f. receiving), protected sex, multiple orgasms, use of actual lube, some scratching, after care, mentions: masturbation, kitchen sex, teasing, overstimulation, edging, i think that's it.

authors note: happy birthday to my bby @wongyuseokie! i'm thankful to have met you through nets. i hope you like some wonwoo to celebrate. thank you to @wonwussy for helping me with a title, you're a savior. this is unedited because i only started it yesterday so sorry in advance. also tagging: @aaniag @gyuminusone

Another disappointing date. Another man who couldn’t even seem to let you finish a sentence. Was so intent on proving how well he could provide for you that he forgot to treat you like a person. So intent on establishing his dominance that he tried to order for you at the overpriced restaurant with too-small portions. So irritated that he paid for your dinner and drinks only for you to leave separately from him and refuse his offer to drive you home. There was no way you were letting that man know where you lived. Is it really asking too much just to have a decent date? You aren’t going to let anyone try to tell you that your standards are too high. You’re really just asking for the bare minimum.

That’s why you’re sitting on the counter in the kitchen of your shared apartment, spilling your guts to your sympathetic roommate. His hair is messy, sticking up at odd angles in some places because he’s been playing video games for hours. Probably streaming at some point. You admire that he’s able to do something he loves to fill up most of his days. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and you try not to find it so endearing. But, you fail at that. He really is impossibly cute sometimes.

“Do you want a bite of this?” you ask instead, holding out the instant ramen you made as soon as you got home.

“No, I ate earlier,” he answers.

“An actual meal or a Wonwoo meal?” you challenge and he rolls his eyes.

“I ate real food. Go back to bitching about your date,” Wonwoo says.

“I don’t know, maybe I was being too harsh,” you say.

“He sounds like a fucking nightmare,” he disagrees.

“Ugh, maybe I just need to redownload one of those apps,” you whine. Wonwoo raises an eyebrow at you. “Don’t look at me like that. I hate fucking on the first date, but I’m so pent up that I need to release it somehow. I’m going insane.”

This makes him laugh, at least. It releases a little bit of the tension, too. You’ve lived with Wonwoo nearly three years and were friends for years before that. Nothing is secret between the two of you. Not anymore. The first time you realized he caught you getting off in your room because you didn’t think he was home was mortifying. Even if he didn’t seem to think it was a big deal. After you got over it, things settled. And in the time since, you’ve both heard the other doing a lot of things. Some of your friends think it’s weird, but you just chalk it up to the comfort of living with someone. After all, you would tell your female friends all about your sex life. Why was that weird to share with Wonwoo?

“Toys not doing it for you?” he throws out. You only fix him with a glare. It’s more proof that you’re entirely too comfortable.

“Our walls are thin, what do you think?” you answer.

Wonwoo snorts a little before seeming to consider something. “Why don’t we just fuck? Get it out of your system.”

The sip of water you’re taking when he suggests that comes bursting out of your mouth. A real life spit take. Thankfully, he’s out of the blast zone. He looks unamused at water coming out of your mouth, but he doesn’t look like he was kidding. It can be so hard to tell with him. You think that you know his face well after all these years. But, you never thought you’d hear that coming out of his mouth, so you’re not sure.

“Please give me some indication if that was a joke or not,” you say.

“It wasn’t a joke,” he says.

“Pretty clear indicator,” you mumble.

“Is it that crazy? You think I’m hot…” Wonwoo starts. If you were still drinking, you’d spit out your water again.

“Uh, what?” you ask.

“You think I’m hot. Hao told me,” he says as if it’s no big deal. You’re mentally running through what the appropriate payback is for this breach of trust. “It’s fine. He told me because I was saying I also think you’re hot.”

“I mean, thanks,” you laugh, still considering how you’re going to torture Minghao. “But, we can’t have sex.”

“Why not?” Wonwoo presses.

“Because we’re roommates?” you ask like it’s obvious.

“So I can hear you fuck yourself with a toy or hear you fake an orgasm with another bad date, but us fucking each other is the line?” Wonwoo asks.

“I don’t fake that many orgasms,” you scoff to buy time.

“Yes, you do,” he argues. “I can hear the difference. And I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be faking it with me.”

There’s a little bit of cockiness in the statement that shouldn’t be doing anything for you. But, it is. There’s also the very real possibility that Wonwoo does know the difference in the sounds you make. It’s not like you’ve bothered being that quiet since the first conversation where he heard you. What’s the point? The walls are pretty thin and you’re both adults. It’s not like you’re going to kick him out every time you bring a date home. And you’re definitely not going to only get off in the shower because it drives up the water bill.

Beyond any of it, there’s also a little curiosity. Wonwoo is insanely attractive. Someone would have to be blind to miss that. He’s got that whole nerdy thing going on for him on initial inspection with the glasses and gaming. Or there’s the fact that he’s content to just hang out around the house, even with company over, wearing his pimple patches. But then, there’s this whole other side to him. It comes out when you’re both out with friends and he leaves the glasses behind. Swapping out graphic tees or hoodies for form fitting clothing and leather jackets. Casually leaning against a bar and whispering honey into some nameless, faceless stranger’s ear.

And that leads you to the reason you’re actually curious. Sure, he’s heard you having sex with people you’ve been dating or just someone you brought home for the night. But, you’ve heard him too. If any of your orgasms sound faked, the ones he coaxes from the pretty girls in his bed sound anything but. There’s nearly always an incoherent string of praises. That thought alone has you considering his proposition. It has you shifting a little on the counter.

“Let’s pretend for a second that I’m considering this,” you start and he smiles.

“Pretend, sure,” he echoes.

“We’d need ground rules, right? Like we don’t want this to get awkward,” you say.

“It’s not gonna be awkward. But, we can set whatever makes you feel comfortable,” he says nonchalantly.

A very strong, very hard to ignore voice in the back of your head argues against setting rules at all. Actually urges you to just drag him into your bedroom. Or his bedroom? Maybe you do need some ground rules.

So, you talk. You don’t say that it’s only going to happen once because you never know what needs might pop up. The most important thing that you agree to is that nothing can change between the two of you. If either of you feels like it’s going to, then you have to talk about it because preserving the friendship is most important. It doesn’t matter what bed you have sex in as long as the other helps clean anything up. You’re not planning on this being a regular thing, so you don’t need to negotiate any kinks or anything like that. If it does become more of a thing, then you can revisit the kinks. There won’t be any weirdness about dating or talking to other people. This is just a solution between two friends that are both going through dating dry spells.

Once the rules are set out, Wonwoo brings you into his room. Even though you’ve been in here more times than you could ever count, it feels different now. He tells you to make yourself comfortable on his bed. When he turns around to take his shirt off and toss it aside, your eyes map out his back. And, yeah, you’ve seen Wonwoo shirtless before, but never given yourself permission to so openly appreciate his body. His shoulders are impossibly wide and he’s in deceptively good shape for someone that hides under baggier clothes.

“Should I take a picture for you?” he asks. It’s only then that you realize that he’s facing you.

“Funny,” you say with an eye roll.

Wonwoo crosses the space to his bed and settles next to you. The way he reaches out to pull your face into his own is so smooth. His lips are on yours before your brain has a chance to catch up. You gasp a little and pull back.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Uh, didn’t we just go over this?” he asks.

“No, I mean, we’re kissing?” you ask.

“What am I supposed to do, sweetheart, just get right down to fucking you without foreplay?” he asks.

You feel a little stupid for asking that because of course you don’t want to skip the foreplay. It’s just that you don’t want to force it, either.

“Just let me take care of you,” Wonwoo says to keep you from overthinking anything.

It’s not something that you expected to be doing. Giving up control to Wonwoo. But, it’s surprisingly easy when he starts kissing you again. Any thoughts that this might be weird fly right out of your head as soon as he deepens the kiss. Instead, your focus is on what a good kisser he is. The way his lips mold effortlessly to yours. The way his tongue licks into your mouth. The way his hands roam your body as if they’re trying to memorize every curve.

You’re breathless by the time Wonwoo pulls back from you to pull your shirt over your head. When you changed after the date from hell, you hadn’t considered putting anything nice on. Hadn’t bothered to keep your bra on. What was the point when you were just going to be going to bed after having something to eat? Now, you’re wondering about that decision. Because your very hot roommate is drinking in the sight of you. It’s making you a little self-conscious, the way his eyes move over your body.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he utters.

It’s a little too intimate for you to respond to. It doesn’t seem to matter, anyway. Wonwoo starts kissing down your neck and working his way to your breasts. He spreads his kisses between them, rolling your nipple between his fingers when his mouth is on your other breast. There’s something so consuming about the way he kisses your body, like he’s worshiping you. Like this is a lot more than roommates helping each other out.

He works his way further down your body, kissing along your stomach, stopping at the waist band to your shorts. Thankfully, he doesn’t give you the chance to overthink here either before he pulls the shorts and underwear down your legs. Tosses them off to the side for good measure. You’re totally naked in front of someone you find you do actually trust. And someone that, yeah, maybe you’ve thought about fucking before. There was no reality where you thought it would happen, though. Even if it does make a lot of sense. Every part of you truly does feel safe with him. He knows you better than most people in your life. Which clearly translates to this part of you.

Since you’re so comfortable, you’re finding it easier to not be embarrassed at the way he’s got you squirming under the barest touch. The way he ghosts his breath across your center makes you let out a whine. It’s unfair, the way that he wants to take his time like this. It’s also unfair that he’s the first person to ever make your mind go this blank during sex. Nothing exists to you outside of this moment and this man.

Wonwoo moves back to where you need him the most, blows gently against your center. The sensation sends a shiver down your body. You barely hear him mumble out a “so pretty” before he flattens his tongue and licks a stripe up your core. There’s just enough time to think this slow pace might actually be the death of you before he goes back in. Using his fingers to spread you apart, he starts tonguing your pussy. A mix of slow and deliberate movements with faster ones. His thumb circles your clit before his mouth moves up there to give it the attention it needs.

With his mouth on your clit, he presses one finger into your pussy. You’ve never really thought much about his hands and now you’re wondering how you missed them. His long finger pumps in and out of you quickly. It seems that he’s reading your body and can tell that you don’t want something too slow. There’s so much pent up in you.

“Fuck, please, Wonwoo. I need another finger,” you whine.

“Anything you want,” he mumbles into your pussy.

He slides another finger inside of you and it makes you clench around him. That only seems to make him move faster. His mouth continues to work along with his fingers and your hands grip whatever they can reach. You’re a babbling mess and you suddenly understand what you overheard from Wonwoo’s room. There’s something so hot about knowing he’s this good with his mouth and his hands. It’s got you coming hard on his face. Harder than you can remember coming before.

“That’s my girl,” he praises as soon as you’re coming down from your high. Your hazy brain doesn’t latch onto it the way it clearly should.

He presses a gentle kiss to your inner thing and then pulls himself up to lie next to you. His fingers trace patterns into your skin while he’s waiting for your breathing to come back to normal.

“Jesus, I guess I know why I always heard so much praise through the wall,” you mutter.

“None as pretty as the sounds you just made,” he says quietly. It’s so gentle, so intimate. There’s a lot of love between you and one of your closest friends, so you don’t dwell too much on it.

You turn your head to face him. His eyes are still dark with desire, fingers still keeping contact with your body. There’s like some kind of bubble around the two of you where nothing else exists. It’s a comfortable feeling, even in the quiet. Something pulls you in closer to him and you can feel his erection brush against your leg.

“Oh,” you say quietly. “You know, I’m still a bit pent up…”

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“What? I’m gonna come on your face but we can’t actually fuck like we meant to?” you joke, a little braver than you feel.

“This was about you, not about me,” he says simply.

“It can be about both of us,” you say, hand running down his stomach. He tenses a bit under your touch and it’s unfair. He’s got perfect abs and you kind of hate it. Kind of hate that it’s so hot to you, too.

You run your hand over the outline of his dick threw his shorts, enjoy the sharp intake of breath at the contact. It feels like a sign for you to keep going. But, he grabs your hand and pins it above your head. Kisses you hard and desperate. All of his restraint from before seems to be gone now.

“Don’t play with me, sweetheart,” he warns.

“Then show me how good you can fuck me. You were so sure earlier,” you press back.

Wonwoo rolls over and pulls his shorts and boxers off. Casts them off to the side with your clothing. He reaches into his nightstand and pulls a condom out. He rolls back over to position himself between your legs.

“One final time, are you sure?” he asks. It’s the first time since you came into his room that you’ve seen him look unsure.

“As long as you’re sure too, yes. I need this Nu, please,” you say, a little breathy with desire.

“I love it when you call me that,” he admits.

With your go ahead, he slides his tip along your entrance. You know you’re still wet from his hard work, but he still reaches into the dresser again. He pulls out some lube and runs it along his cock. Once he’s done that, he puts the cap back on and tosses it aside. He presses his tip against you again and this time slides in, slowly. Gives you a chance to adjust.

You’re completely at Wonwoo’s mercy like this, with his arms on either side of you like he’s caging you in. Instead of wanting to get out, you can only think that you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Your hands find their way to his arms, gripping him tightly as he bottoms out in you.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he hisses.

“Nu, fuck, please move,” you beg.

“Give me a second, sweetheart, I’m trying to adjust so it doesn’t end too fast,” he says, voice so impossibly deep.

“Please,” you beg again.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

It finally does get him to move though, barely pulling out at all and fucking slowly into you, so deep. He’s filling you up in the most perfect way. Your nails dig into his arms, but you can’t help it. He doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, it spurs him on. Makes him pull nearly all the way out of you before snapping hard into you again. He repositions one of your legs so that he can reach a different angle. With each hard thrust, his dick hits exactly where you need him to be. The rhythm is fast, which is really everything you need for how stressed you’ve been feeling. Each thrust uncoils more of the tension in your body. Each moan seems to spur him on more.

When he leans down to kiss you, it’s messy. A clash of tongues and lips and teeth and need, so much need. Your hands find purchase anywhere on his body they can, even as his own arms seem to be a little shaky. So, you pull him down on top of you, bodies pressed tight as he continues fucking you. You’re still so sensitive from the first orgasm that you’re building up entirely too quickly. Even though you wanted it fast like this, you’re a little sorry to think it might be almost over.

Wonwoo must feel that you’re close by the way you’re clenching around him and begging for him to give you everything. He pushes himself up a little, just creates the tiniest amount of space between your bodies, and you miss it a little. Miss the feeling of skin on skin. But, he’s only doing it so that he can circle your clit. He just wants to take care of all that tension. You give control over to him completely. Let him set the pace. An embarrassingly short time later, you’re coming for the second time. He removes his hand but still fucks you through the high.

When your body stops shaking, you realize that he’s stilled inside you. He’s barely even moving as he looks down at you.

“It’s okay, Nu, I’m not that sensitive yet,” you assure him

“Thank fuck,” he whispers.

His pace is fast and you reach up to run your nails down his back. That seems to get him like nothing else does. When you do it a second time, he hisses out and you know he likes it. Each time your nails find a new part of his skin, his thrusts stutter. You clench your pussy around his cock and that’s all he can handle. He’s coming undone.

You return the favor through his high, lightly keeping the rhythm going and helping him settle his weight on top of you. His breathing is still heavy when he meets your eyes and gives you the gentlest kiss. Slowly, he slides out of you and rolls over. The next second, he’s up to dispose of the condom. He disappears into the bathroom and returns with a wet washcloth a few moments later, sitting on the edge of the bed to help you.

“Well, I guess I learned one thing,” you say when he gets up to take the washcloth back to the bathroom.

“What’s that?” he calls over his shoulder.

“All that confidence was definitely warranted,” you say through a light laugh.

You can just feel him rolling his eyes. “And here I thought you’d have less to say after a good fuck.”

“Nope, chatty as ever. No more tension, though,” you say.

“I’m glad,” he says, but it looks like he actually means it.

You move to get out of the bed and look at the sheets. Probably in need of a change. “Hey, do you wanna throw these in the hamper and just sleep in my bed tonight?”

“Are you sure that doesn’t break any rules?” he asks.

“No, we’ve done it…are you teasing me?” Your question morphs in the middle when you catch sight of his face. He can be such a shit for someone who acts like he’s chill all the time.

“I would never tease you,” he says, faux seriousness lacing his voice.

“That’s a shame, I like being teased,” you toss back.

“I’ll remember that for next time,” he shrugs.

“Next time?” you wonder.

“Just go get in your bed, I’ll be there in a minute,” he says.

It wasn’t like you agreed for sex with Wonwoo to be a one time thing. That felt like putting too many rules in place. Still, you’re not expecting it to happen again quite so quickly. You also genuinely didn’t realize he was home when you pulled out your vibrator. But, he was home and he barged into your room without knocking, pulled you to the edge of your bed, and fucked you hard. Made you wonder why you’d ever even consider using your vibe in the first place.

The next time comes after another failed date. It kind of seemed like that was the recipe. Something goes wrong or you’re pent up and he’s there to let you use him. Although, he’s really using you just as much. You like to let him be a little rough with you. There’s something satisfying in the way he doesn’t treat you like he’s going to break you. It’s unquestionably the best sex you’ve ever had, but that’s your business. You don’t need to share that with the class. You do figure that it might be time to talk about some kinks and boundaries, though. It would be good to be on the same page.

That seems to be how it goes for a while, at least. It’s mostly you needing something, Wonwoo being able to sense that, and helping you out. It doesn’t seem to ever start from him being the one to need something. He doesn’t even seem to be going out and bringing people home so much anymore. Not that you’re keeping track, you just can’t remember the last time he did. Or maybe he’s trying to only bring someone home when you’re not around.

He definitely holds true to his promise to tease you. One night, after a really long week at work with a lot of little things going wrong, he asks if he can take his time with you. In hindsight, you should have known it meant that it was going to mean teasing. But, you agreed anyway, and let him set the pace. Instead of hard and fast, he takes everything slow. He brings you right to the edge over and over again without letting you have your release. It’s insane how well he seems to read your signs. It seems like he can tell you’re close before you can. That night, it feels like it goes on for hours before he finally lets you come. It’s the biggest mess you’ve ever made. A fact that you would be embarrassed about if Wonwoo hadn’t looked so proud. Still, it feels like you’re the one always working something out.

Until it doesn’t.

One night, you come back from a night out with friends and are rummaging through the cabinets looking for a snack. This is the thing you hate about living with Wonwoo. He’s taller than you and doesn’t think twice about using the higher cabinets. You, on the other hand, can’t reach them so easily. You’re on your tiptoes trying to reach something when you feel him press into your back. His hand comes up and grabs the box you were reaching for with ease. You press further back into him when your heels hit the floor again.

“Fuck, you’re driving me crazy,” he mumbles into your hair. His hands find a place on your hips, holding you against him. This feels different from how every other time has started.

“What do you mean?” you ask quietly into the silence of the apartment.

He lets one hand slide down, quickly meeting the bare skin of your thigh. You know your skirt is a little shorter than normal, but the night seemed to call for it. “This. Did you go out hoping to bring someone home?”

“Maybe,” you say, shivering a little at the way his breath tickles your ear.

“Are you trying to tease me?” he asks. It comes across almost like a demand.

You wiggle your ass against him a little before you answer. “I would never.”

“Of course not,” he says.

Everything that happens after that feels different. It’s never started like this. It’s been passionate, but it’s never been driven by so much raw desire. It’s never been the kind of sex where Wonwoo pushes your skirt up around your hips and pulls your underwear down to your ankles. Never been the kind of sex where he buries his face in your pussy while you grip the counter for support. Never been so desperate and needy and rushed.

He makes you come twice on his tongue with your knees going so weak that you can barely stand before he even moves onto actually fucking you. You’re so weak by the time you finish that he has to help you to the bathroom to clean up before he tucks you into your bed. You’re so tired that you don’t even realize how intimate it is when you ask him to get into bed with you.

The disappointment that sets in when you wake up to get some water in the early hours of the morning hits you hard. Entirely too hard for something that’s supposed to be free of feelings. Your bed feels a little empty without him taking up space. Which is really stupid because it’s not like that’s been something you’ve been doing all of the time. It’s not something you’re used to. But, there’s an unexpected comfort in him. Something that catches you completely off guard. As you drift back off to sleep, you resolve to deal with your feelings in the morning.

That’s how you find yourself sitting on Minghao’s couch as he makes you both a cup of tea. He hasn’t asked about your roommate yet, but you know that it’s coming. He just wants to have everything he thinks you’ll need first. A few minutes later, he sets two cups of tea down next to the plate of snacks he threw together. If you weren’t in such a crisis, you’d have time to be envious over how pretty the presentation looked.

“So things with Wonwoo have gotten awkward?” he asks without preamble.

“Jesus, Hao, let me take a sip first, at least,” you groan.

“I don’t want to say that I told you this was a bad idea…” he starts.

“You were the one who spilled the beans that I thought he was hot. This is your fault too,” you point out.

“I told him that he wasn’t alone in thinking his roommate was hot. I didn’t tell you both to start fucking without realizing it was bound to blow up,” he says.

“I know,” you sigh.

“So, what’s going on?” he asks.

Minghao is a lot of things. He can be a bit of an art snob. He’s that kind of impeccably dressed where he looks like he just stepped off a runway. He can appear a bit detached. But, he’s also one of the most thoughtful people you know. He’s complex and he cares for his friends more than he cares for himself most times. Both you and Wonwoo are among those he counts as his closest friends. So, he just listens as you lay out everything that’s happened since the first time you had sex. He doesn’t judge or interrupt. Patiently, he just waits as you get it all off your chest, including how you felt after last night.

None of that really comes as a surprise. You know that he’s going to give you shit and be there for you at the same time. What does come as a surprise is what he says when you’re done laying out your issues.

“I haven’t wanted to set you up because I wasn’t sure you were in the right place for it, but I actually have a friend that I think you might hit it off with,” he says. “He’d definitely get you out of this whole Wonwoo funk you’re in so things can go back to normal.”

“You wanna set me up?” you ask, surprised.

“Yeah, I think it’d be good for you,” he says.

“Okay, tell me about him,” you agree.

“He’s really kind. Kind of talks in a permanent pout, but it’s endearing somehow. He’s a giant softie at heart and he’s so incredibly loyal. He’s been talking about how he’s looking for something a little more serious. I think you’d like him,” Minghao says.

“What’s his name, Hao?” you ask skeptically.

“Mingyu,” he answers and your eyes go wide.

“Mingyu? As in that hot model you’re friends with?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Minghao says evenly.

“Okay, you can see if he’s interested,” you agree.

It’s been a couple days since Minghao threw out the suggestion of setting you up with Mingyu. The two of you have exchanged a few messages and he does actually seem really nice. He’s also funnier than you expected him to be. When he asks if you want to get dinner the upcoming weekend, you find you’re a little bit excited.

There’s only one issue. You feel like you need to tell Wonwoo. You know that he’s not going to care, but it still feels weird when you’ve been fucking around. Maybe Minghao was right and the whole thing was a terrible idea after all. It’s hard for you to tell him when you seem to keep missing each other, though. Lately, he’s been playing video games over at Vernon’s place more than normal. Even if they’re streaming, something feels weird.

“Hey,” he calls out from the front door, snapping you from your thoughts.

“Oh hey,” you answer, looking up at him. He doesn’t meet your eyes as he moves to head back to his room. “Everything okay?”

He stops to look at you when you ask that question and his eyes still look a bit distant. “Yeah, fine. Why?”

“I don’t know, you’re being short with me,” you say.

He just shrugs. “I don’t have anything to say.”

“Okay,” you say, drawing out the first syllable. “Well, I just wanted to tell you that Minghao set me up with his friend Mingyu and I was thinking I’d go out with him.”

“You don’t have to tell me about your dates,” he says evenly.

“I just thought…” you start.

“We agreed,” he interjects. “Enjoy your date whenever you go.”

“Thanks,” you say quietly to his retreating figure.

The whole point of agreeing to go out with Mingyu was to get things back to normal with Wonwoo. It was clear that you had gotten in over your head. Now, you’re wondering if things are going to be able to go back to normal at all. This isn’t your normal dynamic. You always shared stories about dates, hook-ups, anything and everything under the sun. Your other friends always said it was weird for the two of you and you just ignored them. Now, you feel like you’re in it alone. Maybe they’re right and it is weird.

Since it’s a little on the later side anyway, you decide to grab something from the kitchen and just head into your room. You can go to bed early and forget that whole conversation even happened. That’s probably for the best. It’ll be easier to get back to normal once you’re going on dates again. Once you stop fucking your roommate like you could have ever done that without forming some kind of feelings.

It’s the middle of the night when you feel someone slide into bed around you. A familiar scent slips into your consciousness as an arm slides around your center. You nestle back into the chest and know for sure that it’s your roommate. The same man you’re trying hard to get over.

“What are you doing, Wonwoo?” you mumble in sleepiness.

“Don’t go on the date with Mingyu,” he says. He sounds completely awake.

“What?” you ask. Your brain is still foggy from sleep.

“Don’t go out with anyone else,” he says.

That makes you open your eyes as the words bounce around in your brain. You turn over to your other side so that you’re facing him. His hair is messy and all he’s wearing is a plain white t-shirt, but your heart still constricts a bit at the sight of him.

“What do you want, Wonwoo?” you ask, voice thick with mental exhaustion.

“Exactly what I told you. I want you to turn Mingyu down,” he says.

“Why should I?” you challenge.

“Because, well, we’ve got this…” he starts and fumbles over his words.

“We haven’t got anything. You’ve been avoiding me for days,” you point out. “Hell, I asked you to stay in bed with me after you fucked me in the kitchen and you couldn’t even make it til morning.”

“I know, but I was scared that night because I realized I was starting to feel something,” he says. “And then Hao texted me to tell me he’d finally given your number to Mingyu…”

“Finally? What do you mean?” you asked.

“He’s been asking for your number for months,” Wonwoo says through somewhat gritted teeth. “So Minghao told me you’d agreed to be set up and I don’t know, I guess I just decided…”

“To avoid me?” you supply.

“I didn’t know what to do. And I didn’t know how to process you not telling me,” he admits.

“You weren’t around for me to tell you,” you point out. “We’ve been fucking. I wasn’t just gonna be like oh by the way, I’m going on a date.”

“Please don’t go on a date with him,” Wonwoo asks again.

“I will consider not going if you can actually talk to me,” you say.

“About what?” he asks.

“Everything you’re feeling and why this whole let’s just be roommates that fuck was stupid,” you say.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he says immediately.

You sigh, realizing that you’re not going to be able to go back to sleep, and send Wonwoo to the kitchen to get you something to drink. By the time he’s back, you’re sitting up in bed and ready to have an actual conversation.

You stay up entirely too late talking about everything between the two of you. It’s a little hard to believe Wonwoo is so open with admitting how he feels. It’s harder to believe that Wonwoo knew he felt something for you before the very first time you had sex. In his mind, it was clear that he wasn’t just offering because the two of you were friends. He offered it as a way to gauge your own feelings. But, after that first time, he kind of figured it was just sex and tried to detach himself from it. That was when you started to feel something for him.

When he’s done admitting his own mistakes and feelings, you figure that it’s time for you to own up to your own. It was really silly to just make up his side of the conversation about why he didn’t stay in bed with you that night. After all, the one thing you both stressed before sleeping together the first time was that you had to be honest in your communication. That’s what friends did and you were friends before anything else. As it turns out, you’re both way more on the same page than either of you realized.

“You’re wrong about one thing, though,” you admit.

“What’s that?” he asks.

“It was never just sex for me. I was totally done the first time you kissed me,” you share, picking at a thread on your comforter to avoid looking at him.

“I kissed you before we even had sex,” he points out, incredulous.

“Yeah, turns out I’m not so good at the just friends who fuck thing,” you say with a shrug.

“If I’d have known that was all it took, I’d have kissed you months ago,” Wonwoo grumbles.

That brings you up short. “Nu, just how long have you liked me?”

“I don’t know, a while,” he says.

You just shake your head at him before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Just talk to me next time.”

“Can we go back to having sex now? I miss the feel of you,” he whines out. “And the taste.”

“We literally fucked less than a week ago,” you point out to try and avoid the way it makes heat pool.

“I could taste you every day and never get sick of it,” he says without any embarrassment.

“Are we really giving this a try?” you ask.

“Unless you don’t want to,” Wonwoo says.

“I do, I’m just scared. What if we try a relationship and it doesn’t work?” you ask. “You’re one of my best friends. I don’t wanna lose that.”

Wonwoo reaches out to tilt your head up. “We’ll just promise to be honest with each other. We can figure this out together.”

“Okay,” you agree.

“So, we’re doing this?” he confirms.

“Yeah, we’re doing this.”

Just like that, you agree to take a leap with the only person that you’ve always trusted to catch you every time you fall. It feels scary, but also completely natural.

i hope you enjoyed it! 💕

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suga-kookiemonster · 1 month

Text

ctrl-alt-del | jjk (teaser)

summary⇢ you graduated bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but, to your extreme disappointment, your big girl job isn't turning out to be nearly as exciting as you thought it would be. still, you're holding out hope that your talents will soon be recognized and your coworkers will stop trying to include you in their gossip sessions. enter jungkook, the quiet IT guy who's gradually making your days more bearable. (and if you find him easy on the eyes, that's nobody's business but yours.) pairing⇢ jungkook/reader teaser word count⇢ 1.4k genre⇢ smut | humor | office!au warnings⇢ nothing too bad for this teaser! just a mention of oral

a/n⇢this fic has literally been sitting in my wips for YEARS lmao. i feel like it's finally time to set it free 🕊️✨ it's looking like it's gonna lean more towards pwp, but there's definitely still enough plot in there to keep it interesting. not sure when it will be up, but wanted to share a snippet to get your thoughts and get myself excited to finish the last leg--fingers crossed for the next month or so 🤞🏾🙌🏾💜

When you graduated top of your class with a marketing degree and a job already lined up, you weren’t big-headed to assume you would be given a lot in the beginning. No, you knew that you were the new kid on the block and needed to prove yourself first, needed to work your way up from the bottom. But what you definitely didn’t anticipate was working up from thefigurative trenches, almost exclusively doing busywork—constantly making coffee runs, catering business lunches, printing out endless spreadsheets.

Eighty-thousand dollars in debt, and you are a glorified intern.

You’re positively itching to hit the ground running and get your hands dirty, your job isn’t too bad. The people there are all nice and welcoming, the complimentary coffee in the break room is decent enough for your dwindling bank account, and every couple of weeks, the company sponsors an employee barbecue were everyone can fraternize and enjoy free food.

“Apparently it fosters unity and teamwork,” your coworker Joy informs you as you both stand in the food line. “Seokjin—that’s our CEO—is really big on unity and teamwork.”

Joy is also a member of your marketing team. Though as sweet as can be, she has no filter, and thus always has a lot to say about everything—which has helped you when it comes to learning the ropes about the company, but has also had you clutching your imaginary pearls in some situations where you found it inappropriate. Despite only being a year older than you, her title of Marketing Associate (instead of your measly Assistant)means that she technically outranks you, though she doesn’t usually enforce that fact (unless there was something that needed to be copied or filed, of course). Still, she immediately took you under her wing when you first started, and she is the closest person to a friend you have at work (even though her daily coffee order is always so ridiculous, you are convinced that she has to be fucking with you—or at least engaging in some form of mild hazing.).

“I think it’s nice,” you reply. “I’ll never say no to free food, and they let us out early and everything.”

“I mean, pretty sure you can get the hotdogs twelve in a pack at the dollar store,” Joy quips, raising her eyebrows at you pointedly. “But sometimes the boys from Sales take their shirts off and play soccer, so there’s that.”

Your eyes dart to said Sales boys against your will, gaze drawn to Jung Hoseok as he chats animatedly with his teammates by the tables. You’ve only spoken to him once or twice, but his fiery red hair and even brighter smile caught your attention immediately, your heart rate accelerating at the sight of him in hallways mere days into starting your new position. Who better to have a mild work crush on than a sweet-talking salesman who winks at you sometimes in passing?

An appreciative noise has you turning back around, embarrassed at being caught ogling how shapely Hoseok’s butt looks in his dress pants today, but it’s just Wendy from accounting, Joy’s best friend and thus a harmless, familiar face. Wendy has cut in front of a few editors to join you and Joy, and the way that she smiles at you lets you know she’s up to no good. “He’s cute, huh?” she asks, leaning towards you conspiratorially. “I would definitely give him the good ol’ suck behind the dumpsters over there, if you catch my drift.”

“Err…yeah, I do,” you reply awkwardly. She had been explicitly clear—keyword explicit—so there definitely isn’t any room for misunderstandings. Is this truly appropriate work function conversation? From the way the editors behind you are politely clearing their throats, you think not.

“Behind the dumpster?” Joy asks curiously. “He’s standing right next to some sturdy tables that I, for one, would take great advantage of—”

“I’m gonna go get us some drinks,” you announce loudly, your neck heating up. “Can you grab me a hot dog, Joy?”

“Sure,” she says dismissively, already distracted by her sudden debate with Wendy about the most convenient place to suck off salesman Jung.

The whole conversation is making you uncomfortable. You are not a prude—far from it—but there is a time and place for everything, and your coworkers’ blasé attitude towards speaking about inappropriate topics at company functions on company time rattles you a bit. So instead of engaging in the risqué discussion further, you make your way to the cluster of brightly-colored coolers that presumably hold beverages, sidling up to the only other person lingering the area.

“Anything good?” you ask cordially, making your coworker, who had apparently been deep in thought while considering his beverage options, startle a bit.

He’s tall, his large frame covered in the appropriate business casual attire of nice jeans and a powder-blue buttonup. When he turns his head to look at you, you’re met with large, dark eyes blinking in surprise from behind wire-rimmed glasses. Said eyes dart around for a moment before determining that you were, in fact, speaking to him.

The man clears his throat. “Just the usual,” he says, voice soft. Timid.

“The usual?” you repeat. There are little hoops dangling from his earlobes, and you brush off your surprise at seeing them, returning your gaze to the coolers. Water, a clear soda, a cola. “The basics, you mean. Well, can’t really complain, right? Seeing as it’s all free. I think it’s really nice of them.”

Your companion seems surprised at your words. “It is,” he agrees softly, eyes meeting yours for a second before dropping back down to the cooler. “Um, are you...are you new?”

“Damn, I guess my cover’s blown.” You shoot him a wry smile. “Yeah, I just started a couple of weeks ago. What gave it away?”

“It’s just—no one else here really cares about these barbecues anymore,” he admits, looking at you, but not quite. More like, in your direction. “Everyone has forgotten to appreciate the little things.”

“Nothing is a given,” you shrug. “So you need to appreciate things when you can. And besides, those lots of little things can really add up without you realizing it.”

He finally seems to look at you properly, and the weight of his large, gentle brown eyes throws you off for a second. “They can,” he agrees, lips slowly drifting up.

“What do we have over here?” a loud voice interrupts, a hand falling to your shoulder. You look up, and are met with the brightness of salesman Jung.

“Ah,” Hoseok says with a wink, reaching into the cooler. “I love Sprite.”

“Me too,” you reply automatically, and then immediately want to smack yourself. Because you don’t—carbonated beverages make you break out. But your mouth had formed the lie without your permission.

Embarrassed, you reach into the cooler, grabbing three water bottles. “See you later,” you squeak, avoiding eye contact as you make your escape.

Joy and Wendy are already watching you when you return to where they have procured a table, and when you hand them their waters, Joy raises an eyebrow. “I was wondering how long you were going to talk to that IT guy.”

“Yeah, and why did you leave when Hoseok showed up?” Wendy pouted. “_____, the universe is only going to give you so many opportunities. If you don’t want the ball, then pass it to me! Goddamn.”

“IT guy?” you ask, hoping to slide past that last remark.

“Yeah. His name is Jungkook, I think? Mostly works with the printers, started a couple months ago.” Joy shrugs, obviously disinterested by the topic. She reaches for the ketchup bottle in the center of the table and squirts some on her hot dog. “This is the first time I’ve seen him at a barbecue, though. Honestly, I’m surprised he even came out, because the IT dudes generally keep to themselves. The rarely leave their little tower,” she adds with a dismissive wave.

Wendy scoffs. “Who cares about Jeremy! Hurry up and eat, I’m sure Sales is gonna start their soccer game soon.”

“Soccer game?” you ask.

“The sales department likes to play soccer during these things,” Joy informs you. Her expression brightens. “Hey, maybe Hoseok will take his shirt off again! Let us pray.”

To your coworkers’ disappointment, Hoseok did not take his shirt off. But they certainly had a good time watching him run back and forth across the grass.

#jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook scenario #bts fic #mine #fic: ctrl alt del #bby

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thecuriousquest · 4 months

Text

‘Tis the Fucking Season!

Happy holidays to all my readers. Whatever you celebrate, I hope it’s awesome for you!

Yandere!Satoru Gojo x Fem!Reader x FuckBoi!Suguru Geto

Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @murderofravens

Warnings: Yandere themes, NSFW, heavily sexist themes, I think this verges on more dub con because reader doesn’t get an explicit say, bondage, nudity, vaginal sex, light spanking, pussy spanking, vaginal fingering, oral sex (giving and receiving), patronizing tones, public humiliation

Note: College AU (no sorcery), everyone is 18

—————————————————————————

Suguru walks into his dorm room, surprised to find Satoru sitting on his bed. He’s lounging comfortably, ankles crossed, hands interlocked behind his head.

“What brings you here, Satoru?” Suguru smiles warmly as he shrugs off his jacket.

“I have your gift,” he explains with a salacious grin.

“The one you wouldn’t shut up about for the past two weeks?”

“The one and only. I really think I outdid myself this year. It’s gonna be tough for you to one up me after this.”

Suguru sets his book down on his desk and shakes his head, bangs swaying. “I don’t think Christmas is about outdoing each other.”

“Don’t be so philosophical now! It’s Christmas!”

“Alright, so, where is it?” Geto finally asks.

“I’ve hidden it somewhere in this room. I think you’ll be able to find it pretty easily.” He stands up from the bed and saunters over to Geto. “Have fun, Suguru. Use it well!” He pats his friend on the back before leaving.

“Thanks,” Suguru huffs humorously as he begins the hunt. Nothing out of the ordinary under his bed, nothing in the kitchenette cabinets, he even goes as far as looking in the attached bathroom. It’s a fairly decent sized dorm room, so the only place left to check is the closet.

And would you look at that. There you are all wrapped up like a candy cane with scarlet and cream silk bindings around your wrists and ankles. Silk, white panties with a crimson lace trim and a matching push-up bra adorn your body. There’s white silk covering your eyes while you drool around a scarlet ball gag. Sitting delicately on the top of your head is a red and white bow. Looking closer at you, Suguru can see there’s even a gift tag wrapped around your neck.

Merry Christmas, from Satoru.

Suguru rolls his eyes. He lifts you up by your hips, steadying you on trembling legs.

“Well now, isn’t this a pretty sight,” he brushes your hair back, taking in every single inch of you.

You face his general direction, never wavering, too afraid to even move a muscle. Everything Satoru did to you to get you here…and now this?! You’re ashamed to say that all you respond with is a tight groan.

“So, my little Christmas mouse, where should we start?”

Picking you up, he sits down on the bed, placing you on his lap. He rips the gift tag off of your neck, not wanting to see Satoru’s name while he’s fucking you stupid. Suguru decides to leave the silk binding around your eyes, making you feel unsure of where to look.

You shift, chaffing your wrists held snugly behind your back. Suguru can roughly make out that you’re attempting to say his name through your gag. He laughs while slipping his hand between your thighs, simply caressing the insides.

“I think I want to keep you like this for a little while longer.”

You feel his lips graze your neck as he fingers the little wet patch seeping through your panties.

Geto can’t understand a single thing you’re trying to say, but he really doesn’t care. Your panties are gone soon after, and your bra ends up being pushed over your tits to let them bounce freely. Suguru unties the bindings around your feet but leaves the ones around your wrists. He moves you onto the bed only so that he can rid himself of his own clothes.

He can feel how hard his cock is through his pants, can feel a tent being created. He loses his own clothes, trousers, shirt, everything. Nothing is left on him by the time he’s nuzzling his nose at the apex of your thighs.

Lapping at your warm and juicy pussy, he swirls his tongue around your clit, inserting two long fingers inside of you. He lets himself explore you, but you feel your body treacherously responding to his ministrations. Your hips wriggle as you lie on your back, and all Geto does is throw your legs over his shoulders, holding them firmly as he eats you out like a starving man.

He lets his fingers roam and rub all over your inner walls. He’s not just pumping in and out of you. It’s as if he’s trying to find something. You wish he would just pick a pace and leave it at that until his digits curl around the little beast stirring in your loins; the same beast that comes alive when Geto flicks his tongue against your clit. It makes your back arch, makes you mewl behind your gag.

Feeling his tongue dart inside of you with his fingers has you squeezing your quaking thighs. You’re almost there. You’re so close as you buck into him, trying to get his mouth to latch back onto your clit.

Oddly enough, his nose bumps your sensitive little pearl, but that’s all you need as you orgasm against his skillful tongue.

You can’t believe you just came on Suguru Geto’s face.

The man laughs as he uses him thumb to clean up the mess you left behind on his chin. He licks his finger clean, slurping up the last of your essence.

Standing up, Geto leans over you, nudging his way between your thighs as he undoes the ball gag’s latch behind your head. You stretch your jaw now that you’re free of the damned thing as you wipe the drool off of your chin with your shoulder.

“What’s the matter? Is your jaw stiff? Let me help you stretch it out.” He hums as he gently wraps a hand around the back of your neck, pulling you in close until he sticks his hard on in your mouth.

Your sloppy wet cavern from all of the built up drool creates a nice lubricant for him to pump in and out of. And fuck. You can’t help but think how he took out your gag only to stuff your mouth with something else. You’re not sure which one you prefer, but you try to relax, slightly choking each time he hits the back of your throat.

Suguru plays with your pussy as you suck his dick, having you lie down on the edge of the bed with your legs spread as you take his entire length. Black pubic hair scratches your nose, a masculine musk wafting in your direction with the friction he’s creating. At least he’s making this pleasurable for you as well.

His fingers pinch your clit, and you whine on his cock. The vibrations are so gratifying for him as he pushes your head farther into his base. Your lips place wet kisses against his scratchy patch of black hair, balls slapping you every time he gets carried away and slams his hips into you so hard that you end up gagging.

With your thighs spread and his erection down your throat, you cry while he slaps your pussy. Each sound you make, each failed syllable slithers along Suguru’s veiny shaft. He can’t help his own guttural moans while he fills your mouth with his warm seed.

You swallow it, forcing it down. You turn your head against his sheets, groaning as you feel your weak little slit throb from his sharp attacks.

———

You’re so wet for him, cunt dripping with delicious cream made so sweet for him. He’s slow moving you to straddle his lap as he sits on the bed, helping you adjust as you cry out from his cock slipping inside of your tight hole.

“Fuck, it’s so big! It’s so big! I can’t-”

But he’s shushing you and telling you that you can.

“You’re doing just fine.”

Ripping the damn bow off of your head, stripping you of your blindfold, he isn’t surprised to see your eyes scrunched closed. He really just wants to watch your expressions as he rails you.

You bounce on the fat head of his cock. Every word trying to escape your throat comes out clogged and broken.

“Please, please, so good, too much!”

You’re not even sure what you’re saying at this point. All you know is that your head is spinning faster with every piston of his hips. His thrusts are deep, and you can’t feel anything but his delicious cock hitting that tiny spot that makes everything feel so blissful.

Suguru smacks your ass, grabbing a handful of doughy flesh, making you rock into him. He spreads your cheeks so that he can go deeper and deeper. His penetration finally pushes you over the edge, and you slump against him.

You pant heavily as your chin hangs over the back of his shoulder, but you have no idea that he’s nowhere near done with you yet.

He humps into you, slow and hard, taking all of the time in the world to enjoy such a precious and beautiful gift. Gojo was right. His best friend really outdid himself this time.

———

Everything is a mess. The bed. Suguru’s hair. You most of all. By the time he’s finished using his gift, he unties your wrists. He lets you adjust your bra and put your panties back on. Lighting up a cigarette, Suguru guides you out the door with a light smack to your bottom.

Yipping from the slight sting, you turn around in time to see Geto shut the door in your face. Shaking your head, you cross your arms over your breasts.

Stupid Christmas lingerie Gojo forced you into, and fuck Geto for not letting you at least borrow a shirt.

You turn to head back to your room, but you’re stuck in a state of shock as you’re faced with not only the man who put you in this situation, but at least a group of thirty students in your class.

“Merry Christmas, guys. Isn’t she a real beauty?”

They’re all chattering quietly behind the white haired man, and you know all too well that they’re talking about you. Some of them are even hollering at you, cat calling you, demanding you strip right there in the hallway.

You can’t believe he’d humiliate you even further after making you a gift to Suguru Geto. Tears fill your eyes, and you choke on a breath. You’ve had enough. The dam breaks, and the tears flooding your eyes spill over.

You don’t remember how you got on your knees, but you try to cover your body with your arms. One over your padded bra and the other between your legs.

Satoru stands above you with both hands in his pockets. He looks down on you mightily.

“Bet you wish you never rejected me now, huh?”

You look up at him with brows pushed together and slightly parted lips. Is that what all of this has been about? Is that why he put you through so much humiliation?

“You want me to make them go away?”

Your desperate nod causes your hair to sway.

“Say you’ll go out with me then.”

And now you really don’t want to go out with him. If he’s willing to put you through all of this just because you told him “no”, then what else is he willing to do? You’re going to be the laughingstock of the university now.

But a hideous voice in the back of your head tells you that things can absolutely get so much worse if you reject him once more.

With no other option and not wanting to become another “gift” to all of your classmates standing behind Gojo, you whimper past dry lips, “Okay…I’ll go out with you, Satoru.”

“Great!” The next thing you know, he’s picking you up bridal style and carrying you down the hallway to your room. “Guys, get lost. We’ve got a date to get ready for.”

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #yandere themes #triggering content #triggering themes #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #yandere satoru gojo #suguru geto

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comphetkoncass · 7 months

Text

little fic about tim's love language being contingency plans

////

The thing is, Tim has a way of attacking Kon’s problems like a puzzle. Like a riddle, waiting to be solved.

Tim’s plans also don’t involve much feeling, usually, even if the issue is purely an emotional one. While Tim is decent at listening and empathizing, at a certain point he always gets his Robin face on. A signal that, while he’s still certainly listening, there’s a chemical reaction in his brain, completely out of his control, that activates his detective skills. His problem-solving skills.

It has taken Kon a combined two lifetimes, four years, five collective identities, and two–maybe three?–timelines, but Kon has finally gotten Tim to at least ask before starting to strategize. But lately, Tim has undergone some personal growth, and Kon is starting to wonder if, perhaps, he has learned to not even ask. To instead, politely wait for a signal – a sign, an invitation, even– that said advice is actually wanted.

Kon would like to take the credit for training him, he really would. But he has a feeling he’s only one of many factors.

Today, Kon is sitting face-down on Tim’s bed. Krypto sits on top of Kon’s back, the world’s most powerful emotional support dog pinning him in place. Preventing him, more like, from leaving before he's gotten all his complicated, messy, unwanted feelings out. Also preventing him from looking up at his boyfriend before Kon is done feelings-dumping, because otherwise Kon just won't finish talking, and it will go unsaid.

So Kon can’t see it; he can't see the detective face for himself. Can’t verify, for sure, absolutely, 100%, that TIm’s detective face is on.

But he knows it’s there.

He’s just spent half an hour talking about his latest identity crisis. Of course Tim’s detective face is on. It’s probably been on since minute two.

However, Tim is also running his fingers through Kon’s hair, and making the occasional appropriate comment, always generous and rational and kind, always active listening, and– listen, Kon isn’t immune to the soft victim support voice. He’s definitely not immune to the Robin leader voice, but the softer, empathetic, gentle one Tim uses with people who need help? And when it bleeds in so subtly into his regular speaking voice that it’s not immediately obvious that’s where he pulling it from?

Incredible. Show-stopping. Kon could listen to it all day, if he wasn’t the one monopolizing the conversation by info-dumping all his problems.

Finally though, he finishes the garbled, soft, self-deprecating speech about how he’ll never be completely free of Lex’s braingook (yes, that is the scientific name for it, thank-you-very-much) and how that means he’s always going to have a chip on his shoulder until Lex dies and even then Kon’s going to have to worry about some secret chip in his brain that transfers Lex’s consciousness to his or what-the-fuck-ever.

He can hear the comment Tim wants to make. The unspoken, soft little, 'You know, we could probably test you for that... A chip would definitely show up on an MRI...'

Instead, Tim only pauses the briefest, softest moment. “...That must be really stressful for you, worrying about that.”

Kon looks up, just a little. Sees Tim’s best poker face.

Then sighs, and bids the victim comfort voice goodbye. “Okay, I give in,” he says, and moves to cross his arms in Tim’s lap instead. Krypto lets out an annoyed little huff at being jostled from Kon's back, but he soon hops off Kon’s back and moves to lay at his side instead. Kon rubs him behind the ears, Krypto butts his head against his hand, and all is well again. “C’mon, out with it.”

“Hm? Out with what?” Tim asks, still in the same plaintive tone. “What do you mean?”

“Relax, you can stop the sympathy. I know you want to start strategizing how to solve all my problems,” Kon says, and leans up in what he hopes is a very kissable position, because he really wants one. “You’ve suffered enough, I know you’ve already thought through eighteen different plans.”

Tim lets out a shuddering breath, immediately sagging his shoulders. “Thank you,” he says, sounding exhausted. Distracted, and clearly already thinking of how to phrase his plans, he meets Kon halfway for a kiss. It's even a proper kiss, soft and sweet, and it really does make Kon feel better. Then, to his surprise, Tim also presses a more tender one just between his brows. “I really do empathize, though. Just so you know. This isn’t me not empathizing. But I mean, if you're giving me explicit permission it's not like I haven't been starting to think about how we could test for these and help you stop worrying about them-”

Kon shakes his head, fond and sweet. “I know. Your love language is solving people’s problems for them, I've accepted this about you."

Tim looks the tiniest bit offended. "I- that's not a love language."

"It is for you," Kon says. Then, he grins, looking up at his boyfriend through his lashes. "So come on. If it's your love language... Show me you love me.”

Tim’s cheeks bloom red. But he smiles instead of shying away, then runs his fingers through Kon’s hair again, gentle and sweet. “Get comfortable then, because I’ve got a lot of- love to show. To finish the metaphor, I mean. There’s only five so far, but number three is kind of complicated, you're going to want to take notes, but I could summarize it again for you afterwards, when you're less cozy-”

Yeah, Kon thinks. There’s no denying how much Tim loves him. He might be a strategist at heart, but Tim also wouldn’t make immediate contingency plans for just anyone, either.

Kon curls up on Tim’s lap soon after, with Krypto snuggled up onto his chest. As long as Tim keeps stroking his hair, Kon doesn’t mind the clinical approach to his problems. It’s nice to have a boyfriend who can both meet him where he’s at, and say what he really feels. Even nicer, he thinks, to know that it’s all coming from a place of genuine affection.

#timkon #cdw writes #kon-el #tim drake

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ponderingmoonlight · 5 months

Note

hi! first i love your writing. it’s so amazing

since it’s getting into the christmas season, i was wondering if you’d want to do something with choso experiencing christmas season things with a partner for the first time. like decorating a tree, kissing under mistletoe and all that kinda stuff?

thank you so much for all your insanely amazing writing!

Aww this was absolutely fun and cute to write, I really hope you like it! Thank you for your request and kind words love 🤍

Teaching Choso about Christmas and kissing underneath the mistletoe

Pairing: Choso x reader

Word Count: 1,1k

Synopsis: Even though Choso thinks he's seen it all by now, the idea of Christmas just doesn't reach him until you show him the tradition of kissing underneath a mistletoe...

Warnings: Christmas fluff coming your way! This was such a fun request and I really hope it gets you into Christmas mood! Would you like to read more Christmas special content? Let me know in the comments or get in my inbox <3

„And…why exactly are you putting those strange balls onto that tree?” Choso questions while eyeing you up and down critically.

Within the last few months, you were able to teach your precious boyfriend a lot of things he missed as a cursed womb. Everything was new to him: having feelings, getting close to each other, ordering ice cream. But somehow, you actually managed to make a decent human being out of him.

Well, at least until now.

“That is called a Christmas tree and those ‘strange balls’ are called ornaments. We do that every year around that time. Look at how stunning it is”, you explain with excitement glowing in your eyes.

Choso truly loves seeing you like that, wearing that strange sweater and a gorgeous smile on your face. But somehow, this whole concept of Christmas doesn’t make any sense to him. Why would you celebrate the birth of a single child for more than 2000 years? And why do you have to decorate a tree to do so?

He watches as you carefully place another ornament on the tree, clapping your hands in joy. Oh, you look so lovely in the dim candle light with your slightly redden cheeks. His heart begins to jump up and down his chest all over again, eyes not able to tear away from your beautiful sight. If it makes you happy, he’ll celebrate Christmas every day.

“Stop looking at me like that”, you mutter all of the sudden, hiding your face behind your hands.

“Why would I ever stop looking at you?” he remarks along with tilting his head.

He crosses the room in an instant, his hands gently removing yours from your delicate face.

“You told me to tell you about my feelings. And right now, I feel captivated by your sight.”

Your heart skips a beat, shy eyes staring up at the man you learned to love after Shibuya, the man who stood out to you the second you met him. Choso Kamo is way more than a reincarnated curse, way more than a puppet of someone random. No, he is your boyfriend, the love of your life. Never in a million years you would have thought that you’ll stand here like this, him staring deeply into the ocean of your eyes while you can’t help but hold onto his strong arms for support.

God, how much you love that man. And how much you adore to teach him every little thing about Christmas.

“You know what that is?”, you question innocently.

Your fingers hold onto what looks like a branch.

“I now know what a branch looks like”, he remarks dryly.

“This isn’t just any branch.”

Carefully, you tie it to a hook above the both of you, your hands wrapping themselves around his. You smell so lovely, like vanilla and dough from the cookies you baked earlier. The room suddenly feels so warm and welcoming, making his heart feel as light as a feather. Seeing you like this truly makes him melt away in an instant.

“This is called a mistletoe. It’s not entirely clear why, but this branch is a symbol of love. It is tradition to kiss underneath a mistletoe whenever you have the chance to do so. Especially men should steal a kiss from a woman when standing under it. Otherwise it brings you bad luck”, you explain gently.

“I am allowed to kiss you wherever and whenever I want. But since I wanted to do it anyway, I’m more than glad to follow this tradition.”

You hold your breath, his lips pressing themselves onto yours. Sparks fly, it seems like the world around you fades away. It’s only you and him underneath the mistletoe. You, him and his mouth brushing against yours. Instinctively you wrap your arms around his neck, caress his back gently, get lost in the feeling of his body against yours. God, his smell is so intoxicating, the way he holds you by your waist sends shivers down your spine. Never in your life would you have imagined to love anyone as dearly as you love Choso Kamo. It’s almost a miracle, you and him standing here together. An incarnated cursed womb and a jujutsu sorcerer. But somehow, you made it. And oh does it feel right.

“Is there anything else you want to show me? Maybe another tradition that includes stealing a kiss from you?” he mumbles against your lips.

“Actually…There’s something I want to show you. Just stay here, okay?”

He stares at you in confusion as you run up the stairs into the bedroom, your giggling filling the air with nothing but happiness. What are you up do? Choso shakes his head to himself with a small smile forcing itself onto his otherwise cold features. It doesn’t matter what makes you this happy. The only thing that counts for him is your breath-taking smile.

“Turn off the lights!”, you shout towards him, only your head sticking out of the door.

“Turning of the lights…But why?”, he replies with a frown.

Even though it makes you this light-hearted, Christmas seems to be a mystery for him still. What is up with all those lights, the different smells, all the things you hung up in the entirety of the house before? And why would he turn of the lights now?

“You’ll see, just do it!”

He signs to himself before doing as told. Maybe one tradition includes you getting naked after all…

You storm out of the room, holding what looks like a blinking sweater over your head in pure delight. Oh no, what is this about again? He still has to get used to the knitted sweater you’re wearing right now, but this thing? It literally glows in the dark, blinking so hard that he has to squint his eyes in order to see it clearly. Please, let it be another decoration, a strange tradition maybe-

“This one’s for you”, you announce proudly.

Choso isn’t even able to protest since you’re already pushing his head into the tiny hole, pressing his dark hair roughly into his face.

There he stands, blinking like the Christmas tree in front of him in this scratchy thing.

“The mistletoe was definitely more my taste”, he comments dryly.

“Oh, you’ll get used to it! Are you in the mood for learning some more about Christmas?”

He takes a step back while scratching his back.

“No, I think that’s enough for today…”, he mutters.

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain @risuola @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez

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ragingbookdragon · 1 year

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She had, of course, wracked her brain for months before his birthday trying to decide what to get him. The team had all shown the gifts they’d bought Ghost, nick-nacks here and there, a few new knives, gun oil, even a handy knew set of leather lined gloves. She on the other hand had gone through every option before finally deciding on something rather…small.

At the end of the party—and it wasn’t really a party, Ghost wasn’t big on those—everyone had said their goodbyes and slowly trickled from the room and back to their quarters until it was just the two of them left, bourbon glasses half-empty, the bottle still between them.

She glanced at the set of gifts on the side table. “Quite a few this year, hmm?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, finger tapping against the glass. “The knives are nice. Not my usual, but Johnny did decent.”

“Ease up on him,” she smiled. “He’s doing his best to be your friend.”

“I don’t need those.”

“Well that sounds like you don’t want me around then,” she joked, gazing at him and he met her eyes.

“You’re not a friend, love.”

She lowered her gaze to the dog tags on his chest, a warmth somewhere deep in her own. “I didn’t know what to get you,” she said. “Everything I found just…didn’t feel like enough.”

Ghost snorted, sipping from his glass. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I did too,” she retorted and he rolled his eyes at her as she reached into her jacket pocket. “I couldn’t find anything, but I hope this is sufficient.” Handing him the piece of paper, he took it from her and opened it, hidden eyes scanning the sheet.

“What is this?” he asked and she crossed a leg over the other.

“A list of people you’ve saved over the years. Friendlies and civilians.” She tapped the bottom of the list. “Read that.”

He did as she said, eyes, only for a moment softening as he read over silently, Proof that Simon Riley has always been a good man. “…Thank you, love,” he murmured and she simply smiled, raising her glass.

“To you, Simon.”

He said nothing, but tapped her glass with his, carefully folding the sheet and stowing it in his breast pocket, right above his heart.

#ghost x reader imagine #ghost x reader imagines #ghost x reader #ghost imagines #ghost imagine #ghost #simon riley x reader imagine #simon riley x reader imagines #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagines #simon riley imagine #simon riley #simon ghost riley #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2

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nyimasu · 1 year

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───── 𝑃𝐴𝐼𝑁𝑇 𝐼𝑇 𝐵𝐿𝐴𝐶𝐾

PAIRING — yoshida hirofumi x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS — it just so happens that you and yoshida have been crushing on each other for some time and now it's time to take it up a notch.

CW — reader is a civilian, aki is really salty here y'all but deep down he's a cinnamon roll <3, canon universe (slight differences), mutual pining, wet dreams, blindfolds, multiple orgasms, creampie, monsterfucking at the end but nothing serious yet

WC — 4.9k ;; cross-posted on ao3

ANYA'S CORNER — all characters are aged up here and well, this might as well be the first of other fics about yoshida *sighs* time will tell but i hope you enjoy this in the meantime!

"Oh, God. What the fuck did you do to your hair now?"

"And good morning to you too, Aki. Today you are bitchier than usual. Did the Fox Devil pee in your bed this morning?"

He gives you the finger, then unties your hair just to let out a frustrated grunt two seconds later. Despite what everyone thinks, you and the boy by your side are just best friends. Actually, more like platonic soulmates. Sometimes you wonder where you end and he begins and vice versa.

What led most of them to think so is Aki's antics. He's quite physical with you: kisses on the cheek, hugs, casual ass honking, you name it.

No matter the circumstance, you are always within reach for him to tease.

But this time around he does so much more than that.

"I get it: you wanted a fresh start after what that bastard did to you. You should’ve let me beat some sense into them, as I suggested to you when you were sobbing in my lap, and save your scalp from a mental breakdown at 3 AM in our bathroom. I would've never imagined it was this bad.

Just- do you smell it? Ugh. The chemicals are burning my nose.

I’m about to barf."

"Come on, don’t be such a baby. It’s not that bad."

Aki catches a strand of your hair between his fingers and tugs at it, annoyed. Its white-silvery hue is glossy, and unbeknownst to you both, the texture isn't so frizzy, either. But the stink of bleach is still here, haunting your best friend’s nostrils.

"After the shift you better go home and wash your hair again. I won’t come near you a minute longer if you ignore me."

"Will you stop patronising me if I say yes, you Karen?"

He eyes you, expression blank. He gives nothing away as he deadpans, "Probably."

"Still better than hearing you ramble like a grumpy old man, anyway." you walk past him hiding your smile before he can reply and go in the back, getting ready to start another day.

You both work as bartenders/waiters in a cute cafeteria nearby the college you and him go to. The paycheck is good and combined, you and the boy are able to make ends meet smoothly.

The only downside is the total lack of spare time: the moment your shift ends, Hayakawa has to hurry up and start his. Most of the time, you two have to work side by side during the busiest hours of the day, all due to your boss’ laziness in scheduling decent shifts.

The only moments you can talk a bit without worries are the ones outside the flat, college and in front of the lockers in the back of the cafeteria.

However, that day you feel good.Really good. You haven’t felt that way since your partner — now ex-partner — dumped you right in front of your family’s house three months earlier.

“My family doesn’t think you’re the one for me. You know what they say about those who don’t meet their standards, don't you? And you're so... weird. Yeah, you'll never be good enough for them.

We should stop our relationship before it gets any further.”

The idiot had the audacity to use their own relatives to cover their ass behind such blame excuses to justify cowardice. They didn’t want to commit, you could see that in those eyes you once found difficult to look away from.

When you did, it was too late. Your heart had already been broken.

On top of that, you are going to see them for the rest of the year; they are two years ahead of you and Aki, but they still attend some of your classes, as well. Moreover, you always see each other at the entrance every morning.

It's torture, looking at them living their best life whereas yours is still drowning in nostalgic waters.

Your hand closes around the uniform you have in the locker. The thin fabric of the plain black shirt cracks as you wear it, soon after joined by a tight pair of white jeans.

Then your eyes fixates on the shoes you're supposed to wear and let scoff, "Hell no, I won’t wear these infernal devices today."

The polished high-heels in the cabinet stare right back at you as you finish to dress up, even as you close the locker and head back to the counter. No need for them today.

Aki is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, waiting. The moment you brush past him, his big hand takes one of yours to place them on his heart.

His pretty eyes scanned your figure once more, searching for any sign of distress as he breathes, "Are you really okay?"

Your gaze softened. "I’m more than okay, Aki. Stop worrying about me."

"How can I? It’s what best friends do: looking out for each other."

"And your best friend is telling you that she’s fine." you yank at the ends of his topknot with your free hand and smile, "Besides, today is a new day. From now on, I want to be a better version of myself.

They won’t have anything of mine anymore."

You both walk back but before any of you can do another step, the boy corners your body with his. Your back collides with the cold surface of the counter, yet the warmth in the eyes of your best friend makes up for it. His height engulfs yours by a lot, so it's no big deal for him to tower - no, hover - over you.

He stretches out a hand, fingers lightly grazing your cheeks. "Promise?"

"Yes, I promise. Let's get to work, now."

Your hand covers his for a split second and he finally nods, planting a kiss on your forehead as he lets you circle him to take position by his side.

There is no way he would give up so easily. He's up to something.

You want to investigate some more but it's not the right moment for it. Being it is almost opening time, and there are a lot of people already behind the glassy doors, students, mostly, you decide to postpone. If he's going behind your back-

The doors open right at that moment, and the momentum cuts off your thoughts. For now.

You are smiling a lot that morning and it doesn't go unnoticed.

The rings on your hands don't, either.

Some regular customers even dare to slip their phone numbers in the cash they hand you over to pay, grazing your slender fingers to catch a glimpse of the shiny bands wrapped around them, but you always turn them down with a shy smile.

The stares you can handle, but nothing more.

You make small chats with everyone passing by the register and at some point you must’ve gone to tie your hair into the usual bun because Aki’s slaps on your thigh stops you halfway.

Turning, you look at him, puzzled. "What?"

The boy looks at you up and down twice before replying, "That colour looks gorgeous on you. Keep your hair down."

"You should do the same, Pineapple Head." you reply, genuinely confused because to be honest, he is prettier than you with his hair that way.

The look your best friend gives you is murderous before nodding at the next client who walks to you you. And with that, the conversation hangs over your heads again.

That day, lots of students and teachers come to grab something to eat before rushing back to classes. But what surprises you the most is to see a familiar face among the group who just walked in, settling in a table not far from the bar counter.

Aaand goodbye good vibes.

"Are you kidding me?"

"Aki, don’t." you hiss, hand already reaching for the boy's. His knuckles turn white as his eyes melts your ex's chair, the idiot looking up right then. Seeing you and Aki, however, has them immediately bend their head forward and avoid your gaze. Pathetic.

Already feeling what's about to happen, you grab Aki by his bare arm and hiss, "Don’t do anything stupid."

"I won’t," his blue eyes pierce right through you and clarifies with a short, "Not in public, anyway. The same goes for you.»

"As much as I hate to admit it, they're a client. They must be respected even if they’re in the wrong.

But that won't stop me from being salty."

You leave without looking back, heading towards the rather noisy group. As soon as they see you coming their way, everyone stops whatever they're doing and stare at your silhouette. The one who doesn’t even flinch is the one who should’ve hidden behind the table, on their knees.

Their eyes lock with yours while one of their hands strokes a girl’s thigh right beside them.

So they were already with someone else, uh? Judging by looks alone, she's a far more “normal” fit than you've ever ever been.

Do they really think something like that would hurt you, after everything they said to you?

"Hello, eveyone. Are you ready to order?"

The friends who snap out of their minds first order straightway, while the person you thought you loved till some months before take their time, talking with the short brunette whose hand is now an inch away from their thigh. Then, acting as if you just arrived there, your ex turn to tell you what they both want.

You write it down quickly, adding ‘spit in their hamburger ♡’ right next to the order.

"I see you dyed your hair and got a new tattoo. Seems like I dodged a fucking oddball, after all."

You put down the digital pen and shoot your ex a customer smile. Finally the other shoe has dropped.

"You know what’s funny about oddballs? You never know where they’ll hit next. Next time it might be your face, how about that?"

You feel one of their friends trying to trip you. The reason why they do it? No idea… until you step on the foot that almost have you face-first on the floor, pushing on it with your whole weight.

"Hey, you stepped on my foot!"

You pin the boy next to your ex with your gaze, "I could do so much worse than this, but I won’t. You know why?» you lean closer and sigh. "You’re a client. I can’t do anything tangible now, but wait until my shift is over. I’ll shove my leg so far down your throat you’ll suff-"

"I’m taking it from here.

Go."

Aki’s chest crashing against your back cuts you off. Turning, you see him looking at the group with a customer smile. A real one.

Then his fingers take a hold of the tablet still in your hands with one, smooth move. You go to snap back at him, but you know better than being too petty.

If he hadn’t stepped in, you would’ve ended up picking a fight that would cost you the job and a demerit note.

The implications in his tone snap you out of it. Your eyes set on him as you smile, just as you apply more pressure on the boy's foor.

"Of course. I’ll be at the bar if you need me."

The blonde-haired stranger curses you out but does nothing else to stop you again. You don't look back, not even when you hear the chick next to your ex speak ill of you. It should’ve hurt your feelings, but that girl looks so naive that you actually feel bad for her. She's too caught up in your ex's spell to understand that they are just using her for sex.

What a disappointment your ex turned out to be.

The moment your best friend comes back to the counter, any sense of anger and annoyance has left you.

Clients keep you busy until you manage to push your ex’s presence in the darkest corner of your mind. Saying you are grateful to them is an understatement.

Time goes by pretty quickly and before you know it, it's almost lunch time. Meaning you are about to end your shift.

Despite this, once you have some time to talk, the tall boy next to you turns on his heels so abruptly you swear you hear his bones crack.

Aki is speaking through his teeth when he whispers, "What the hell was that? Are you trying to get fired or what?"

Your hand reaches Aki’s to press it against your chest. "I could never leave you and your pretty face all alone in a place like this, Hayakawa. But that bastard still has the power to push my buttons all at once and I just can’t stand the sight of them. And that poor girl… I feel sorry for her."

"Your ex is not your problem any longer, remember? You finally get to live your life away from that shithead."

All of a sudden, Aki isn't looking at you anymore. His attention shifts on a group of people that is walking in now, and you look at them too from above your shoulder. The five of them are so beautiful that the people still in the cafeteria turn to stare at them.

But most importantly, they are deadly.

You recognise their uniforms, how could you not? Devil Hunters are a big deal, especially around colleges and other crowded places. Most of the devils’ attacks affect those ones, so at least a couple of them are always around to patrol the area and call the police in case of need.

Something in your best friend’s gaze set off all your alarms and you push him away. "You know them."

"Oh, we both do." he deadpans, fingers itching to grab the cigarette pack in his pocket. He still have three hours left before he can go on break, so he can't really sit out this one.

You snap your fingers in front of him to get his attention and when you do, he raises an eyebrow, unfazed. The one who's boiling is you and you alone, and you implode with an esasperate sigh.

"So this is what you’ve been up to, uhm?"

Aki cracks his fingers. "I don’t like the accusations you’re trying to make."

"Oh, bite me. Don’t tell me I wouldn’t notice you looking at the door like a teenager in love waiting for their sweetheart to show up.

Come on, what is it?"

Aki leans against the counter, bringing you closer to him. "If I promise to tell you this, will you do something for me in return?"

Oh-oh. Every time he asks you to do him a favour, you end up tangled in things bigger than you.

As if he reads your mind, Aki rolls his eyes. "Nothing complicated, I promise."

You fold with a scoff, arms crossed on the chest. "Fine. What do you want?"

He tries to fight back a smile. Unusual, for Aki Hayakawa rarely holds back on his happiness. Not anymore.

When he first met you, five years ago, his perception of life turned upside down. Including his view on showing emotions.

"I have this friend… hey, listen to me before saying anything, okay?" his thumb draws little doodles on the counter's space close to you.

"Like I was saying, I have this friend who’s always been kinda into you. I wouldn’t mingle if I wasn’t sure he might be a good influence in your life.

You know how protective I am of you."

This time you're the one to raise an eyebrow, suddenly feeling self-aware. "So you want me to go on a date with him or something?"

His eyes widens in shock. You fear he might have a heart attack if he keeps staring at you like a lunatic on stereoids.

"Woah. You’re the one who suggested it, not me. I was going to ask you if you could do me the courtesy of grabbing a coffee with him, just to chat, but you went all in by yourself. I won’t be the one to change your mind, now."

You say nothing for a while. Rather, you glance at the table the Devil Hunters are at to see what all the fuss is about.

Three girls and two boys are chatting, and the closest to the counter are a boy with sandy hair and a girl with strawberry locks. Her horns look so cute but on a second glance, their pointed edges look very sharp. A Fiend, you correct yourself.

Another young woman with pitch-black locks that descend on her face like silk curtains sits across them, right next to the tallest girl out of the three. She wears her long, blonde hair in a ponytail and out of the bunch, she seems to be the most stoic one. An eye patch covers her right eye, but that doesn't mean she has her guard down.

As for the rest, you can tell they are quite unique: the boy with red hair is stunning, achingly so. He looks like an angel- Wait.

"No-"

Aki nods, suddenly serious. "Yes. They are part of the same division I was in a few years ago. The one you convinced me to step back from when we got into college.

If you look closely, I’m sure you’ll recognise some."

Aside from Chainsaw Man — you got the chills just thinking about his true devil form — the Blood Fiend, Quanxi, the Angel and War Devil there is another person in the group. One you came across many times when you went to Public Safety’s Headquarters to hang out with Aki.

His dark eyes land on you just as you smack away your best friend's hand. By the time you regain your posture and finish staring at Aki, you turn and a scream build up in your throat.

The woman with the eye patch is now sitting at the bar counter, legs crossed and her gorgeous face resting on a hand.

She's fast.

Shitty human reflexes.

Her voice tone is quiet yet adamatine as she says, "Hello there. So you’re the one who convinced Aki to quit Public Safety."

You gulp and wonder if she hears it. Probably yes.

"H-hello, Lady Quanxi. I never thought I’d have the pleasure to make your acquaintance. And well, I wouldn’t say I forced him or something.

I just gave him a little push, that’s all."

She waves a hand in your direction, then looks at the tall boy next to you. "She’s cute, Hayakawa. Too cute for this world, I might say. Are you sure that she is your best friend? You seem too grumpy to have someone this cheerful around that can suck up with your dry sense of humour."

Your best friend exhales sharply, staring back at The First Devil Hunter without blinking. You don't dare to laugh, but a small snicker escapes you nonetheless.

It's as if you are watching an older sister scold her younger brother.

"Of course she is. And she's too cute for you, Quanxi. Hands off her, please."

The woman raises her hands, then returns to the table at human speed. After she does so, your eyes almost escape your skull when Aki pinches you. Out of surprise, you slap him across the face.

"Oh! What the fuck was that for?!"

"You startled me, you idiot. Were you trying to set me up with her? With Quanxi?" you start to sweat profusely. "Man, I don't know if I’m in for that type of thing. I mean, she’s the embodiment of ride or die — literally. I don't think I'm ready for that kind of carousel yet-"

Aki stops your rambling by shaking his head. Then he takes his hand into yours once more and points a finger towards the table.

"Look closer."

Dark, lush hair frame a slim face now turned in your direction, his beauty mark under the lips unforgettable. His eyes, despite being so piercing, carry the same warmth his smile radiates.

Yoshida Hirofumi.

Pretty sure the chemical burning Aki warned you about is eating your brain, you stare at the Devil Hunter in awe. "Nah, that can’t be. I must be dreaming. Pinch me."

Hayakawa does so again. Harder this time.

You punch his arm in retaliation and he simply huffs at your little tantrum. However, he drags you in a bone-crushing hug shortly after. Accepting it amidst laughs, you laugh in the crook of his neck and wait for your nerves to calm on their own.

So the person you had a crush on for the longest time ever feels the same about you. The fear of being rejected by him is what kept you from acting upon your feelings. Rather, you locked them away in a corner of your heart.

After all that time, after every heartbreak you went through, he's still there waiting for you?

An idiot. That's what you are.

Still looking at Yoshida, you dare to smile and your heart is filled with joy when he does the same. You whip your head towards Aki to look at him through the corner of the eye.

"Okay, I’ll go on a date with him. Let’s see how it goes."

The one to take the group's orders and bring them everything is your best friend. You prefer to watch the scene unfolding from afar. Hayakawa stays behind for a while, chatting with your crush.

Right before coming back he leans closer to Yoshida, whispering something along the lines of 'hey man, she wants to go on a date with you or whatever', but the group overhears it all the same and Hell breaks loose.

Not literally, but you fear for the well-being of the cafè for a good second.

Denji and Power are still howling, feet on the table and head thrown back in amusement, when Aki heads back to the counter with a satisfied grin; Quanxi and Yoru looked at one another for a moment, then each of them grab the kids by the legs and they facepalm on the table.

Angel is having none of it, and keep eating his ice cream as if nothing happened.

You and Yoshida seem to have the same thought because when you turn to look at him again, the dark-haired Devil Hunter is doing the same from above his shoulder. His smile reaches his pierced ears and something in your stomach stirs. Probably butterflies. Or hunger.

"He’s literally breaking his neck to get a better view of you. Goddammit, come here. Why am I doing all of this by myself?

Listen: now that we're settled, go and ask him when you two can go on a date."

Your heart drops at your feet. "Uhm excuse me, where you not there talking to him a minute ago? Hell no. You go."

Blood escapes Aki’s body, leaving him staring at you dead in the eye.

He acts as if you just said you killed his cat.

"I wouldn’t go on a date with Yoshida Hirofumi even if he was the last person on Earth. He’s your boo, not mine."

You stomp a foot, pointing a finger at him. "Stop it. I hate when you say “boo”. It's cringe.

Also, you were the one to set me up with him in the first place. Take the fall for it."

If looks could kill, you'd be burning amidst the flames of Hell by now. "No, I won't. And guess what? You're two adults perfectly able of talking to each other but neither of you was bold enough to confess, so I had to step in and set you two up. He never stopped asking about you, even after I left. And you talk in your sleep, don't you?"

His tone is steady, but there is a hint of amusement in his voice when he whispers:

"I’m tired of hearing you calling out his name in the middle of the night while you squeeze a pillow between your thighs. Fuck him and get over with it."

A shocked gasp falls past your lips and when you look back at the table, fearing the Devil Hunter heard you. They haven't, except one.

The man of the hour is gone. Oh, no. No.

NO.

Horrified, your gaze lands in front of you. More specifically, on the chair Quanxi was previosuly sitting on. Now Yoshida is sitting there for God knows how long, and a sly smirk is painted all over his face.

Aki follows your gaze, pinching your arm again. But you have no will or strength left in you to strike back.

Damn it. Your crush had just heard your best friend say out loud you have been dreaming about him for years. Wet dreams, at that.

Every night.

Hirofumi perches himself on the wooden surface, leaning so close to you that breath gets stuck in your throat.

"Have you now? Care to walk me through some of them over a coffee? Or dinner, maybe?"

Actually, you did more acting than talking. In fact, you showed Yoshida pretty soon some of the best bits of your wet dreams with him. Date after date, week after week.

Now six months had gone by since Aki set you two up and that night, right after you came home from a dinner out with the Special Division, you both had gone insane.

It all started as a joke: you under him on the bed, riled up because of all the teasing at the table, with the blue scarf around his neck dangling between your faces with every kiss Yoshida left on your cheeks, your neck.

Then one thing have led to another, and you eventually started the fire with a simple smile. Hirofumi have come to know you pretty well over time.

He was damn sure it wasn’t an innocent one. “Time for another round, isn't it? Come here.”

Yoshida had giggled in your ear and just like that, you relaxed and returned to the present.

His hands graze your trembling ones for a split-second. The soft fabric of the scarf he used to cover your eyes smells like him and you take in the scent as he continues to worship your body, so tensed and ready to snap under his.

Even after you have come three times, once while your lips are wrapped around his cock with a hand shoved in your drenched panties and twice under the relentless attack of his mouth and fingers, sensory overload still hasn't overcome your body. Stamina is one of your strongest suits, and so is Yoshida's.

He wraps a hand around his dick, coating it in your release to pump it two, three times as his words reaches you.

"Think you got another one for me? Uhm?"

"Y-yes."

Your ragged breath fans over his face as he leaned down to kiss you again. His tongue came out to play with yours as you sense the head of his cock breaching past the entrance of your pussy — he is huge. You barely have time to moan and arch against him before Yoshida straightens his back and placs your hands on his waist.

"Hiro', you feel so good- Fuck."»"

His fingernails bury themselves in the tender flesh of your thighs as he bottoms out inside you, cock pulsing and twitching against your walls. Another desperate whimper leave you right after, because he isn't moving.

Is he really throwing a gauntlet? When he's balls-deep inside you?

Fire begins to boil in your veins and it feel amazing. Pouting, you brace yourself on your elbows. Even blindfolded, you can almost see his eyes transfixed on your boobs. But when you pout again, his gaze shifts to your lips.

Yoshida always make sure to reward you when you beg for his cock.

"Please, baby. I can’t take it any longer. Please, move.

I need you." your voice is feeble, tears already pooling in your eyes. You are at your limit.

He tries to control himself, yet another shiver runs across your skin when he suddenly pulls you flush against his chest. With the new position, his cock goes even deeper and you writhe in ectasy. He is dangerously close to hit your cervix.

Again.

"Of course. You asked me so nicely, princess."

His hips start to move against yours slowly and you sigh, relieved.

But now, his pace changes. You should’ve expected it, but nonetheless you find yourself resting your forehead on his collarbone as he fucks you stupid.

The bed creaked under his movements and Yoshida urges you to lay on your back once more; when you comply, he slips out of your pussy just to slam back in. His eyes fall onto your face.

"Come on. Cum for me one last time."

You let yourself go with a strangled moan, breathing heavily against Yoshida as he draws a fourth orgasm out of you, fucking you through it as his own has him curse under his breath.

You milk him dry, but he still thrusted a few times more to pump his cum back into you. Only when you twitch in overstimulation does he stop and as soon as the softness of his scarf leave your eyes, the dim light shed by the moonlight help you see Hirofumi’s proud grin.

"You did so well." he whispers in the dark, caressing your hair as you both calm down. His heartbeat follows yours for a while but once you are stable enough to speak again, your fingernails trace his cheekbones and he tilts his head.

"Box checked for 'Wet dream n° 52'. You're even crazier than me for following through with them." you chuckle.

"Oh, shush. How many are there again?"

"Roughly around a hundred but who's counting?"

His gaze darkens but doesn't move a muscle. Tonight, you've done enough exercise for a week.

"Poor Aki. He’s not going to be happy about it."

"He’s a big boy, he’ll manage. It’s not like we never had sex while he’s in another room, remember?"

His hips snap against yours, teasing you, and a whimper builds up in your lower abdomen. "Yoshida."

He whispers against your lips, unbothered, "I didn't do it."

"I did."

You try to scream, you really do, but your partner is holding you so tightly against him that you eventually muster up enough courage to train your attention towards the place where the voice came from. To your shock, it did come from Yoshida.

No, from behind him.

And a gush of lust escapes down your thighs, excitement dripping down the already ruined sheets.

It's really happening.

All you do is watch and whimper in anticipation as a tentacle climbs up your leg, its head reaching the strings of your and Yoshida’s mixed releases. Hesitating at first, the tentacle then lapped up the juices and poked at your clit. Your hips buck into its touch and after you do, it vanishes again.

It only lasted a moment but it left you craving for more and Hirofumi's lust-blown gaze shows he has enjoyed it, too.

"Well, it looks like the Octopus Devil likes you enough to come out and play."

"I figured. Let it be from now on. I want to try something out."

The dark-haired boy’s grin now reflects yours. "Is this a spoiler for the next wet dream we're going to reenact?"

You kiss his beauty mark, beaming with mischief. "Oh, yes. Wet dream n° 53: 'Paint it, black'.

Fitting, right?"

#voice of cassandra #yoshida smut #yoshida x reader #yoshida x you #csm smut #csm x reader #csm x you #chainsaw man smut

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pedrito-friskito · 1 year

Text

strawberry wine - joel miller x ofc!liv stone/fem!reader

during - part ten

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

your reunion comes with a price.

a/n: can’t stop won’t stop part today part tomorrow we are AMMMMMMMPED people. and this is the first official chapter with the use of Liv’s name! she will still be as nondescript as possible for now (this plot is ever-evolving) with sparse use of her name. but like I said in the announcement, if named OCs are not your thing, there’s no hard feelings here! also a bit of Joel x Tess starting in this part - I do want to say that there is ZERO hate on my end for their relationship, I love what they did/are doing in the show, but for the sake of the plot, they are not as established in this fic.

word count: 4.4k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, angst, some questionable choices, drinking, Joel has a lot of feelings and doesn’t know how to express them.

✨follow @friskito-library for updates on new works/chapters✨

He can’t stop pacing.

His gut has been knotted with worry since Tommy disappeared into around the bend in the road. Tess has been watching him every since, from her spot perched atop a long defrosted freezer. She’s got her knees pulled up, legs bowed, arms wrapped around. Some kind of comfortable, he supposes.

Joel’s back hurts. It always has, and the end of the world certainly hasn’t put a stop to it. He rubs at his shoulder as he paces, fingers digging into his muscle. The gun holstered at his thigh feels heavier than normal, the knife on his belt even more so.

The gas station is a few miles out of the city. It made the most sense, stopping here for now. It was decent shelter, empty of Infected, good sight lines. The luckiest they’d been in a long time. Luckier still when they found a mostly-intact map of the state buried under a stack of cardboard inside the station’s store. Tommy was sure of the path, and while Joel was loathe to let his brother leave, he knew it was the best play. But that hasn’t stopped him from pacing the floor so long he’s actually worn the tiles clean.

“Would you sit down or something?” Tess quips, her voice exasperated. “You’re making me fucking nervous, pacing like that.”

He gives her a hard look, but relents, heads for one of the windows dotting front of the store. He crosses his arms over his chest, stares through the grimy glass.

They found Tess just outside of Kentucky, nearly three years back. Her and her husband, Nate, were just trying to make their way, same as Joel and Tommy. After a close call with a horde of Infected, they’d joined up, more convinced that strength was in numbers than anything else.

Tess is strong, capable. She’s proved herself a hundred times over, by now, saved both Joel and Tommy’s lives more than Joel cares to count. He doesn’t like feeling like he owes anybody anything, but with her, it’s different.

And after Nate turned, it got…different, again.

He hadn’t meant for it to happen. She worked through her grief quietly, all too similar to himself. The name came up, and she shot it down. “I don’t need your fucking sympathy, Miller.”

Joel’s still holding onto you, in a way. It’s a spark that never truly goes out, a prick of warmth in his chest that he knows he has to keep small. It would burn its way straight through him if he let it get any bigger. He just…hopes you’re alive. That’s all he can allow himself to do.

But Tess, with her brash tone and her slim tolerance for bullshit, he can see the similarities, between you two. His mind wonders if you’d be friends, given the chance, and he has to force the thought from his head. There’s no guarantee you’re still in Boston, still breathing. There are not guarantees at all.

With Tess, it’s stress relief. He knows that. She knows that. The ground rules were laid out right from the first time. He hadn’t meant for it to happen, but it did, and…it felt good. A small comfort in a world that was still hellbent on ending him.

A small comfort. A small spark. That’s all he’ll allow himself.

That’s all he can live with.

“Joel’s alive.”

Your boots squeak on the kitchen floor. You stare at Tommy, open-mouthed, gaping like a damn fish.

“He’s…alive.” The truth tastes funny on your tongue. You say it again. “Joel’s alive.”

Tommy nods, and you pull him back against you, hugging him a second time, a nearly shouted oh my god falling from your lips as you collide again. He laughs, the sound like music to your ears, hugging you tighter still. “So are you, Liv,” he says, his voice low in your ear, cracking on your name, and you pull back again.

“Where is he?” you ask, gripping his shoulders. “Where have you been? How long, since you left Austin? Is Sarah with Joel? What’s…” The questions keep pouring out of you, something triggered in the back of your brain. You need to know everything; where they’ve been, what they’ve been doing, how they stayed alive all these years. You need to know.

Tommy lets go of you just enough to take your hand, but before he can get a word out, Deanna speaks. “Maybe you two should go downstairs,” she says, putting a soft hand on your shoulder. “Kiddos should get to bed soon, y’all should have your privacy.”

You nod, and Tommy follows suit. “Thank you, Deanna,” he says, catching her hand before she can walk away. “For everything.”

She smiles at him. “You’re welcome, Tommy.” Her eyes slide to you. “Go on, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You just nod again, the questions still stalled on your tongue. Tommy follows you out of Deanna’s apartment, down the hallway to the stairs. You only hit the first landing before you can’t hold your tongue any longer. “How did you find me?”

“I asked around at the clinic, after I got through the gate,” he says, keeping pace with you as you head down the next flight of stairs. “Didn’t think FEDRA soldiers was a good place to start. The first nurse had no idea what I was on about, but another heard me say your name and pointed me in Deanna’s direction. Took a bit of interrogating at the business end of a shotgun to convince her I really knew you, but she warmed up to me in the end.”

“Shotgun?” you balk. You’ve told her a million times not to keep the thing around, in case FEDRA ever came knocking. (Pot calling the kettle black, you’re well aware…) But she’s insisted on keeping it strapped beneath the kitchen table ever since the mall. “That woman, I swear.”

“She had nothing but nice things to say about you,” he informs you, and you can’t help the grin that tugs at your mouth as you hit the second landing, pushing the door open that leads to the hallway. “Sounds like you’ve been making quite the living.”

“Doing what I can,” you reply, fishing your keys out of your pocket. “This is me.” You stop in front of your door, unlock it, push it open. “Not much, but it works.”

Tommy follows you in, shucks off his jacket. You do the same, hiding your bag beneath it on the hook. You point out the bathroom, offer him some water.

“Is this a cup of tea conversation,” you ask, handing him a water bottle, “or a something stronger kind of conversation?”

Tommy’s eyes widen. “You have something stronger?”

You tell him to sit, walk into the kitchen and shove the fridge to the side with a heave, revealing the hole you cracked into the drywall, stacked with bottles of liquor. “Pick your poison, Miller.”

He’s gaping at you. “You’re joking.”

“I’m serious,” you laugh, pushing a hand through your still-damp hair. “Lots of abandoned houses outside the wall, lots of rich people who left a lot of good shit behind.”

He points to one of the bottles, and you pull it out, set it on the counter, shove the fridge back into place. Mismatched glasses are laid out on the table, filled with two fingers of dark liquor, some barrel-aged whiskey you haven’t even tried yet.

“To you,” Tommy says, raising his glass to you, and your mouth twitches, the soft clink reaching your ears. The first sip burns, and you wince, setting the glass on the table. “Where do I start?”

“At the beginning, ideally,” you quip, and he laughs, draining his glass to nothing and reaching for the bottle.

“May I?”

“‘Course.”

Tommy has been with Joel the whole time. “I was in the truck with him, when he called you that night,” he says, and the memory makes your shoulder prickle. “When the phone cut out, I thought he was gonna put his fist through my damn dashboard.” He chuckles, but there’s no humour in it. “The plan has always been to come to Boston.” His dark eyes flick up to your face. “To find you. Or try to. After—” He stops, cuts himself short, empties his glass again.

“After what?” you prompt, reaching out and laying your hand on Tommy’s forearm. “Tommy, tell me. Please.”

“I was in jail, the night everything went down. Got into some stupid bar fight, didn’t realize until after that the guy was infected; tried to bite the fuckin’ waitress. But I called Joel, and he came to get me. We saw all kinds of weird shit happening in the city, heard weirder shit on the radio, then he called you. We went home, got Sarah, tried to get the hell out of dodge. We got stuck, in the city. Fuckin’ plane fell right out of the sky, crashed my truck.

“We got separated, for a while. I had to circle around, try to meet up with them again, and when I found them, Joel, he…” He trails off, his brow furrowing, eyes going shiny. “Sarah died. That night.” He sets the glass on the table, leans back in his chair. “She hurt her ankle, when the truck crashed, and Joel was carrying her. Found them at the bottom of a hill, fuckin’ soldier with a gun pointed right at Joel. He’d already fired at them and then I…I shot first.”

You plant your elbow on the table, cover your mouth with your hand. There are tears pouring down your cheeks, and you’re still holding Tommy’s arm. He covers your hand with his own.

“Joel was on the ground, hurt but okay, but Sarah, she…” His brow pinches, eyes wet. “Just like that, she was gone, and he…it broke him.”

Slowly, you pull your hand away from your mouth. You refill your glass, toss the entire thing back in one go. It burns like hell, but you barely notice it, wiping the tears from your face. “Tommy, where is he?”

“Gas station, maybe ten clicks outside the city. Cumberland Farms, or something like that.”

“I know it.”

He nods. “The plan was for me to come first, see if they’d let me in, figure out how easy or not it would be to get them in, since…”

“Since what?” you prompt, lifting a brow.

“We got kicked out of the last QZ we were in. Baltimore, before it fell. Tess, she—”

“Who’s Tess?”

He gives you the story; Tess Servopolous, badass extraordinaire, according to Tommy’s description. They’d joined up with her and her husband originally, but he’d been infected, and she’d been the one to put a bullet in him. Smart as hell, apparently with ideals similar to your own; Joel and Tess had been kicked out of Baltimore for smuggling, and the FEDRA soldiers in Baltimore were using exile as punishment. Tommy, refusing to leave his brother, had left of his own accord.

“So it’s just the two of them?” you ask, your brain churning, an idea already starting to form.

Tommy nods. “That’s it.”

You push back your chair, startling Tommy, who catches your arm.

“What are you doing?”

“Stay here,” you say, ignoring his question, grabbing a different — dry — jacket off the hook. Tommy gives you a hard look, crossing his arms over his chest. “Eat whatever you want, drink whatever you want. The bed’s not half bad.”

“Where are you going?” He gets to his feet. “I’m coming with you.”

“No,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “You just got here. You can’t get caught.”

“And you can?”

“I can get them in, but I have to go talk to someone first.”

“What about the curfew?” he asks. Your eyes dart to the clock on the wall; almost an hour past. “Liv, don’t—”

“It’ll be okay, Tommy,” you say, trying to muster up something resembling a smile. “I promise.”

You’re soaked again by the time you’re tapping on Nick’s window, perched precariously on the fire escape outside. McCoy was on the overnight patrol; you’d seen him halfway between your building and Nick’s. The city is dark, night taking hold, curfew emptying the streets and lighting windows, casting shadows onto the pavement.

“What the fuck are you doing out here?” Nick says by way of hello, sliding the window open. You climb through immediately, shivering violently as the warmth of his apartment covers you. He tries to reach for you, but you step out of his grip, arms crossed over your chest.

“Are you working the gate tomorrow?” you ask, and he just stares at you, one brow raised. When he doesn’t answer right away, you ask again. “Nick, are you working the gate tomorrow?”

He’s looking at you like you’ve got three heads. “I am…why?”

“I need your help,” you say quickly, your knees knocking together as you shiver again. “I’m bringing two people through the gate tomorrow, and I need you to get them through, no matter what, no questions asked.”

Those blue eyes of his darken. “I can’t do that.”

“You can,” you insist, staring him down. “I know you can. I’ll…I’ll vouch for them, feed them with my own fucking ration cards until they can pull their own weight. They can sleep in my apartment, I don’t care. I just need them inside the QZ. Please.”

For a moment that feels like an hour, he just stares at you, mouth slightly parted, deep lines on his forehead. “Who is it?”

“Does it matter?”

Nick scoffs. “I guess not. But you…why can’t they just go through the gate like everyone else? Doesn’t matter what I do, if they’re infected, they’re not—”

“They’re not infected,” you tell him, cutting him off. “I’m not an idiot. That’s not the problem.”

“Then what…?”

“They were kicked out of Baltimore, before it fell. Which means they’re in the system, which means any other soldier would turn them away on the spot.”

He scrubs a hand over his face. “And you want me to just let them through? Why’d they get kicked out of Baltimore?” His expression changes, something like understanding, but you know before the words are out of his mouth that he’s wrong. “What kind of fucked up deal have you made, Liv?”

“I didn’t make a fucking deal,” you say, exasperation creeping into your tone. “I just…I need them inside, Nick. Please. I’ll do whatever you want me to. Throw me in lockup for a week, I don’t fucking care. Just get them inside. Please.”

After a moment, he replies. His face is a hard mask, thick arms crossed over his chest. “Not a week. Two days. You go in the moment they’re through the gate. It’ll have to be official shit, on your record, proof that you were in lockup when they were brought through. I swear to god, if they pull any shit, if anything traces back to—”

“It won’t, Nick,” you say, forcing yourself to relax, reaching out a putting a hand on his arm. “I promise.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “So says the smuggler.”

You crack a smile. “So you’ll do it?”

“Yeah,” he nods, almost rolling his eyes at you. “I’ll do it. You owe me. And you know I can’t protect you in lockup.”

“I know.”

You know you shouldn’t do it; in fact, everything in you screams in the opposite direction. But when he reaches out, grabs the zipper of your coat and hauls you close, you kiss him. It lingers, the feeling of his hands moving to your waist all too familiar, but the entire time, your mind is whirling.

Joel is alive.

You’re gone, as soon as the sun’s up.

Nick’s awake, pulling on his gear, as you’re doing the same, nursing the cup of good coffee he’d pushed into your hands almost the second you opened your eyes. You tried to wave it off, but he wouldn’t let you. “Drink it.”

You sink onto the edge of his bed as you tie up your boots. He’s watching you, pulling a clean t-shirt over his head, tightening his belt.

“How long will you be?”

“Five hours, maybe longer.” You get to your feet. “It’s a long trek.”

His brow twitches. “I don’t like this.” Nick steps towards you, and that little voice in you, the one that had screamed when he first kissed you last night, almost has you flinching away. He reaches out, swipes his thumb over your cheek, down and over your chin. “At least tell me who they are.”

“Does it matter?” you ask, echoing yourself from last night. “They’re survivors. They deserve a safe place, right?”

He drops his hand, crosses his arms over his chest. “Right.”

“I’ll bring them through the alley,” you tell him. “Same as yesterday. Then through the empty warehouse and to the gate.”

Nick just nods.

“I’ll see you later,” you say, grabbing your jacket, and you’re gone.

You take the same path you’d used the day before, stopping at one of your caches to grab the bat from where you’d stashed it, a backpack with supplies. Your adventuring gear.

Ten miles feels like twenty. The caffeine gives you a bit more pep in your step, and you’ve always travelled faster on your own, but you haven’t felt this antsy since outbreak day. Your heart hammers with every step, the bat a heavy weight at your back, hands curled around the straps of your backpack.

Joel is alive.

It pushes your feet faster, but makes the guilt rise in your stomach just as quick. You shouldn’t have let Nick take you to bed, shouldn’t be asking him for something like this, but there’s no one else you can ask. No one else you trust.

The Joel you find now might be a completely different one. Tommy’s words ring out in your ears, when he’d told you about Sarah, about what happened that night.

“It broke him.”

Part of you has been broken since you left Austin. Maybe there’s a glimmer of hope somewhere in here, maybe you can put each other back together, live, survive.

Maybe.

The guilt simmers thickly. You should have told Nick who it was, who you wanted brought inside. But would his answer have been the same, if you admitted it? He’s pressed a bit, over the years, asking for tidbits of your past, trying to muddle your story together. You’ve stayed tight-lipped with him, but Deanna knows exactly how much gin to give you to loosen your lips, and you have no doubt she’s passed some information along. Not that you can blame her; she loves you both, and she’s still not sold on what you’re doing with Nick.

“You’re gonna get that boy killed one of these days,” she said one night. A job went slightly awry and you came back with a black eye, the bat caked in Infected blood, Nick half carrying you up the stairs to Deanna’s place. “You can’t keep getting him involved.”

“I know.”

You did. You do. But life is about resources, now. It’s who you know, what you have, what information you can use against someone if you need to. It’s a lethal combination, in every sense, and that’s just behind the walls, never mind what lies beyond.

You know you shouldn’t use Nick. You know you’re just going to hurt him, at the end of the day, but it was never supposed to go this far. You know he feels more than you do, and part of you still wants to feel what he feels, to give him something in return for all these years but—

Joel is alive.

Broken or not, that changes everything.

As soon as Tommy said Cumberland Farms, you knew exactly where you were going. It’s a halfway point, of sorts. You’ve done a handful of deals there, have some supplies stashed beneath the tiles. It’s long deserted, looted to shit and half boarded up, but there’s usually something interesting lurking around.

But you’re definitely not expecting what you find.

There’s a truck at one of the gas pumps, the hood popped and the battery long gone. The door is cracked open, and when you get a little closer, you see them, standing in the window.

The woman — who you assume must be Tess — stands with her back to you, light-brown hair visible through the glass. There’s an arm slung around her waist, a hand fisted in the back of her jacket, and everything in you goes still.

Joel.

He’s standing in front of her, saying something, his lips forming words you can’t discern. Your mind is blank, taking in every detail you can, rebuilding the picture of him in your mind, a combination of your memory and your vision, the differences sussing themselves out.

He looks older. There’s a bit more grey in his beard than you remember, the lines on his forehead deeper. A ratty, camel-coloured jacket, a few buttons on the flannel he’s wearing undone. Tess puts her hand on his chest, his bare skin, and when she leans in, your heart drops into your stomach, knees nearly dropping out from under you.

They’re together.

Thanks for the fucking warning, Tommy.

It doesn’t matter, you tell yourself, tightening your grip on the bat, breathing slowly. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he’s alive.

Then Joel’s eyes flick up, staring straight through the glass. Straight at you.

You see it, on his lips.

“Liv?”

You’re frozen in place. The world has melted away completely. The bat falls out of your hands, the metal singing as it bounces off the pavement. He disappears from the window, Tess turning to see what he saw, and a moment later, he’s bounding through the door, bee-lining for you, nearly sprinting across the lot to where you’re standing. He’s saying your name like a prayer, over and over and over again.

He grabs you so hard your boots slide on the asphalt. The breath is knocked from your lungs, something hot and desperate making a home in your belly as he pulls you into him. You go willingly, throwing your arms around his middle as he wraps his around your shoulders. He’s solid against you, heartbeat hammering against your chest, as quick as your own. The scent of him is slightly different, more earthy, almost darker, but it’s still Joel.

He pulls back after a moment, holding you at arm’s length, one hand moving up to cup your cheek, eyes raking over every inch of you. “You’re alive,” he breathes out, a surprised laugh in his tone, and you just nod, the words refusing to leap off your tongue. Joel hugs you back against him. “You’re alive.”

You just nod, tears filling your eyes, holding him close, holding the back of his jacket in an iron grip. Please don’t make me let go, please don’t make me let go, please don’t make me—

Joel pulls back again, his brow pinched, confusion in his eyes. “How did you—”

“Tommy,” you answer quickly, moving your grip to his bicep as his grip your shoulders. “He’s in Boston, in the QZ. I left him at my place; I didn’t wanna take any chances.”

“He made it?” Joel asks, and you nod.

“Joel,” you say, your voice low, feeling a tear slip down your cheek as you say it. God, his name feels strange on your tongue. When was the last time you said it out loud? You squeeze his arm. “Tommy told me…” You pause, breathe deep. “About Sarah. Joel, I’m so sorry, I just—”

You regret the words, the second they’re out of your mouth.

It’s like a flip has been switched. He drops his hands, and his expression goes with them. You watch the mask fall into place, hard and unreadable, shutting you out in an instant. There’s suddenly three feet of space between you, and he turns away as Tess walks out of the gas station, calling his name.

“What’s going on?” she asks, confusion on her face, coming to a stop beside Joel. She juts her chin towards you. “Who’s this?”

“She’s…” Joel starts, but loses the words. He looks at you again, something you barely recognize in his eyes. Again, he turns away, hands on his hips, his back to you.

“I’m Liv,” you offer, holding your hand towards Tess. She stares at it for a second before taking it. “You must be Tess.”

“I am.”

“Tommy sent me,” you say, and that seems to soften her slightly. She’s pretty; big green eyes, pouty lips, tall, and she looks every bit the badass Tommy had described. “I’m an old friend.”

Her gaze slides to Joel, who has distanced himself further, putting even more space between you. Tess, thankfully, doesn’t do the same. “I gathered that.”

You push your tongue against your teeth, resisting the urge to yell at Joel. Why did you have to say it? Why couldn’t you have waited, maybe? At least got them into the QZ before you shattered whatever was still tethering you two together.

“How do you know each other?” Tess asks.

You search for the words. Do you give the truth, right off the bat? Has Joel ever mentioned you to her? Why did you have to say it? “It’s a long story,” you finally manage, eyes snagging on Joel’s back. The guilt you’d already felt over Nick has tripled, a solid lead weight in your stomach. “Doesn’t matter. We should get going.” Tess opens her mouth to protest, but you hold up a hand. “Tommy told me about Baltimore. It’s fine, I took care of it; you’ll get in, no problem.”

Joel whirls then, his eyes bright, jaw set. He’s angry. You almost flinch. “What did you do?”

“It’s nothing,” you reply quickly, your brows pulling down. Some fucking reunion. “Don’t worry about it.”

“What did you—” he starts again, taking another step, but Tess’s hand flashes out, smacking him in the chest, and he freezes.

“Relax, would you?” she nearly sneers, and you raise a brow. “She’s helping us.”

Joel stares at you. Long and hard, those dark eyes impossibly darker, making a chill snake down your spine. You barely recognize him. It doesn’t matter, you try to convince yourself, bending to pick up the bat. He’s alive, that’s all that matters. You knew things wouldn’t be the same. Things couldn’t be the same.

You look away from him, feeling his gaze follow you as you turn on your heel, heading back towards the road.

“Let’s go.”

PREV | NEXT

#my fics #strawberry wine #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us spoilers #joel miller x oc #joel miller x liv stone

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doe-eyed-fool · 1 month

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Fallen {Chapter Nineteen}

Alastor x (Fem)Reader

A few days after that talk, I could feel a slight change between me and Alastor. Nothing drastic, but it was noticeable. He was more...forgiving? Easier? Though, the "no leaving the hotel without him" rule had gone unchanged. But aside from that, he had proved to be rather decent.

Sure, he could act gentlemanly, but once you got through a few walls, he actually was...well, decent. And I guess, we had a mutual understanding of each other after that talk. And a mutual agreement not to talk about either of our situations.

No matter ninety-four years ago or one year ago, it was still fresh for both of us. And well, neither of us really knew how to cope with it. And we most certainly not going to talk about it, not with each other at least...How would we even go about that?

Anyway, me and Alastor's tolerance had steadily grown into a somewhat friendship. Though, I take "friendship" with a grain of salt. He didn't want to kill and eat me, and, he let up on the attitude and sarcasm, so that had to count for something.

In fact, he asked me something I never expected from him.

"Y/n! There you are. Listen, you're aware I am well known around these parts as a radio host, yes?" How could I not know? I learned through word of mouth, that Alastor was quite fond in broadcasting the blood curdling screams of his victims throughout Hell. I nod my head in response. "Yes?"

"Well then, how about you join me on my next broadcast? Hm?" He asked. "Join you? As in...Join you in making people suffer? Or join you in being one of those suffering people?" I ask warily.

Alastor laughs. "Oh no, nothing of the sort. You're not ready to join me in causing such agony, nor do I want your screams being broadcasted. I'm suggesting you come and see how I do things in person." He clarifies. Oh...That's better? "Do I have to watch you torture someone?" I ask.

Alastor rolls his eyes. "No. I'm not doing that this time, just a normal talk show is all." Alright it is better. "Oh, ok sure. I don't see why not."

Alastor's grin widened. "Lovely! I'll stop by your room tomorrow morning to pick you up. Make sure to get plenty of rest tonight, I expect you to be up bright an early alright?"

I nod. "Alright." Alastor then pats my head gently. "Good girl." He says before walking away. I blink, trying to process what just happened. "Did he just-"

"Nothin' between you two, my ass."

"Ah! Angel!?" I turn to face the tall spider demon. He was leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, eyebrow raised. "You really expect me to believe you two are "acquaintances" after that?" I sigh. "We are, Angel." I say firmly.

"Please. The man just invited you to his radio tower for that dumb show he does. No one goes up there except for him and whatever poor soul he's decided to massacre."

"Really?" I ask. "Yeah, and from what just happened. You ain't gonna get massacred. Maybe something else though, if you're lucky." Angel smirks. "I'm going to ignore that." I mutter. "Why hasn't he brought anyone else there?" I ask.

He only shrugs. "Smiles likes his privacy. But I guess he likes you even more."

"Angel." I warn. "What? It's true!" Angel chuckles. I groan and begin to walk away. "I need to get some sleep Angel, goodnight."

"Night, and make sure you two have protection! Don't need no mini Alastor's running around!"

I groan louder before quickly walking away, trying to ignore the heat in my face.

Just as Alastor said, he was there at my door bright and early. I yawn and stretch my wings out before placing on my necklace. I tried to smooth out my hair as best as I could, barely having time to get ready before he showed up. I opened my door, and was greeted by his signature smile. "Good morning, Y/n! I hope you slept well."

"As well as anyone can when living in Hell." I say jokingly. Alastor chuckles before offering his arm to me. I take it with mine, and with a snap of his fingers, we were in the radio tower.

I look around. The room was fairly sized, large windows wrapping around the building and...highly likely stained with the blood of demons...

But you could get a good view of the city from up here, which was almost distracting enough from the blood stained windows.

"So." I start. "What do you usually talk about when not slaughtering people on air?" I ask. "Oh, I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise, now would I?" Alastor smirks. "Just take a seat and relax." I do as he says and sit near a window that had been the least bloody. I turn my attention back to Alastor, who was setting a few things up for himself. I had to admit, for older tech, it was impressive. And of course, all professional.

"Are you ready for the magic to begin?" Alastor asks me. I nod and keep quiet as he starts the show.

"Good morning sinners of Hell! This is your beloved radio host, Alastor speaking! Unfortunately, today's broadcast will be slaughter free, though, entertaining nonetheless! Seems like we're expecting some acid rain this evening, so cancel your plans or grow some teflon skin!" He ends with a laugh. His, mixed with disembodied laughter from who knows where.

"Ah yes, I've always loved the rain. Reminds me of good times." He says softly. "It also reminds me of a wonderful song. Let's put on some tunes before we get started today, shall we?" With that, Alastor switches on an old song from his era, and mutes his microphone. He turns to me with a grin. "Well? What do you think so far?" He asks.

"You seem to have a lot of passion for this." I tell him. "It's nice to see."

"Why thank you, dear. Yes, I've been passionate about radio for a very, very long time. Been doing it for as long as I can remember." He tells me. "Though, things were different back when I was alive, of course."

"Less screams of the damned, I imagine?" I asked. "Why, Y/n, that's the first I've heard you curse since I met you!" Alastor smirks. "What changed?"

"Does that really count though?" I raise an eyebrow. "I've been saying Hell. I'm not really using it hatefully." Alastor's smirk dropped slightly, a look of slight annoyance on his face. "Can you even curse? Or are you too pure for that?"

"Oh no, I sure as fuck can." I tell him. Alastor's eyebrows shot up. "Ha! That's more like it! Embrace the rotten side of yourself! Step by step, little by little. Cursing's a good start, I suppose." He shrugs.

I giggle. "Yeah. Guess so." Alastor joined me and sat down. "How come you haven't before? I'm sure there were times you got frustrated enough to do so." Alastor asks. "My ex fiancé never liked me to curse. Said it was unlady like." I explain. Alastor hums.

"I take it he was the controlling type?" He asked. I nod. "Well, there is one good thing that's come from you dying." I give Alastor a confused glance. "What's that?"

"You've finally rid yourself of that man."

It wasn't comforting words, but I could understand what he meant. I only hate that it took dying to be free from him...

"I guess you're right." I shrug. "And when he dies, I won't have to deal with him in Heaven...Though come to think of it. I doubt he'd actually get in." I say bitterly. "I just hope I never run into him here, if that's the case."

"I could always get rid of him myself." Alastor suggests. I furrow my brows. "You'd do that?" I ask. "But of course. I've always disliked the idea of brutes disrespecting a lady, by any means. Trust me...I've seen more than enough of it happen in my lifetime." Oh...That's right...

"Well...I give you full permission." I tell him. Alastor looks me in the eyes as he asks: "Do you truly mean that?" Unwavering, I answer him honestly. "I think he should get a taste of his own medicine for once."

Alastor chuckled darkly before standing. "Then, consider it done." He said before walking towards the mic again. I watch as he continued on with his radio show.

I hadn't realized it, but I had fallen asleep while listening to Alastor's broadcast. Another thing I hadn't realized, is that Alastor's voice was surprisingly soothing at times. And it had lulled me right to sleep. Alastor had finished up an hour later and turned to me again, pausing as he noticed my sleeping form. He walked over silently and stared for a moment.

"Y/n, you certainly are something." He says quietly. "To think I've grown to actually like someone in this cesspool." He bends to pick me up before teleporting in my room.

He walks to my bed and gently lays me down. "Though, I could do without you falling asleep during my show." He chuckles, moving a stray strand of hair from my face. He turns to leave, his shadow forming next to him as he exits my room.

"You seem to be growing awfully close." It grinned.

"And what of it?" Alastor asks, shutting the door behind him. "I don't see any harm in doing so."

"What about wanting her to cave into misery?"

Alastor faltered for a moment. "I do believe there's been a change of plans. Have you not been paying attention?"

"All I'm saying, is that this could prove to be dangerous."

"Dangerous?"

"For you. You know deep down, growing attached is never a good thing."

Alastor was silent for a moment. "I have it under control. Now, if you please?" He said with a wave of his hand. The shadow rolled it's eyes before dissolving into thin air.

Alastor sighed heavily, before scoffing. "Growing attached. Please." Of course he knew better, he wasn't daft. It wasn't like that anyway. So his tolerance had grown a bit softer, what does it matter?

"It's not like I'd fall to pieces without her around."

#alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor

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bcofl0ve · 2 years

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Wherever You Go (I'll Follow)

pairing: austin butler x reader

summary: the cannes film festival is your first big press event and when your nerves get the best of you you're worried that austin will want someone who can keep up with his lifestyle. hurt/comfort with a lil' fluff.

a/n: i've written fic for years but this is my first time ever writing *insert person* x reader. still getting the hang of it, but i hope y'all enjoy it! and pls feel free to send me prompts!

xxx

You loved Austin, more than just about anything. You’d follow him to the ends of the earth if he asked you to, and more or less had been since Elvis production began just a few weeks after you got together. Having only met through him coming into a restaurant you worked at you’d expected to feel like an outsider among the Hollywood hullabaloo, and it was a nice surprise to find the opposite to be true. The cast and crew had become family over the past few years, and having a front row seat to your boyfriend’s performance of a lifetime was something you’d never forget.

Promotion season kicking into gear, however, had been making your head hurt. And the Cannes premiere rounded the corner while you were still struggling to find your footing in it all.

Austin could sense your nerves from the moment you got to the hotel in France, and had arranged for his driver, Mikey, to drop you at a side entrance to avoid the press going in. But you’d stopped him from making the same arrangement for after the screening.

“This screening is the first night of the rest of your life Aus,” You’d said in bed the night before, Austin carding a hand through your hair as you looked up from where you were resting on his chest. “There’s nothing I want more than to walk out of the theater with you celebrating that.”

Nerves and all, you meant every word.

It turned out to be easy enough to forget about what was coming after when the film started to roll, Austin squeezing your hand and chewing nervously on his bottom lip as the Suspicious Mind vocals filled the auditorium. You alternated between watching the movie and watching him, the look in his eyes all you’d wanted for him throughout this whole process. This was it. He’d “made it” in every sense of the phrase.

The twelve minute standing ovation was a nice touch too, you thought, Austin grabbing you around the waist with one arm and swiping at his teary eyes with his free hand.

“I’m so proud of you,” You whispered in his direction and he pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to the top of your head with a soft “Thank you baby,”

As things started to quiet down and people began trickling out, he looked between you and the door, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Are you sure you’re okay to walk with us? I can call Mikey and have him bring the car around the back for you, we shouldn’t be that long,”

You shook your head, taking his hand in yours and intertwining your fingers. “I’m okay,”

He didn’t look like he completely believed that, but before he could question it you were being shuffled out the door behind Baz, everyone else falling behind the three of you.

You’d known that you’d be stepping out of the building into a decent amount of chaos, but the instantaneous flashing and yelling still made you flinch in surprise, Austin squeezing your hand three times as you crossed the threshold.

One of his managers, Kayla, weaved her way through the crowd behind you to his opposite side, doing a one over of both sides of the barricades. “We’re just going to take some photos, greet some fans and we’ll be out- no interviews and if someone tries just thank them for their time and walk,” She whispered, and gave you both a shoulder squeeze before disappearing again.

The two of you kept walking, and you tried to focus on your boyfriend as opposed to the hoards of strangers.

“Austin, is that your girlfriend?” Someone yelled and when you turned your head to see who you were damn near blinded by flashing cameras, your heart started to race in your chest. Your relationship hadn’t been a secret, but it wasn’t exactly huge public knowledge either, this event marking the first time that it would be.

“Sure is, beautiful right?” Austin shouted back and you managed a smile even with the anxiety that had started coursing through you, hoping that the photos being captured didn’t capture the tears you felt stinging behind your eyes.

You loved Austin to death. But this had quickly become overwhelming.

You felt his hand slip out of yours and blinked in confusion, quickly realizing Baz had tugged him over for a photo op, which would’ve been fine. If you weren’t suddenly standing alone in what felt like the eye of a hurricane.

Trying to reassure yourself under your breath, you wrung your hands together waiting for Austin to come back.

Starting to zone out, you didn’t realize he had come back until you felt both of his hands grabbing at your hips and heard him turning to the side to shout something you didn’t quite catch before turning back to you, lowering his voice.

“Y/N, our driver is right down there,” He said and pointed down the street at the familiar black car, one hand still massaging your side. “Kayla is gonna take you and I’ll be right there,” He continued and you felt even more nauseous now because you’d promised up and down you’d be fine only to ruin the biggest night of his career so far.

But before you could protest, Kayla swept you away, a protective hand on your back she hustled you down the street to the car. She grabbed a water bottle from the front seat to pass back to you, wearing a sympathetic smile.

Unable to stop the tears building from spilling out now that you were away from the crowd, you held the plastic with shaky hands.

“I feel,” You started, chest rising and falling faster than it normally did. “I feel horrible, this was such a big night for him and now all they’re going to be asking about is his girlfriend acting like a three year old over a little press,”

“You were not acting like a three year old and that was not a little press,” She responded, a hand on your knee. “You got overwhelmed- it happens, and I know for a fact that Austin doesn’t think you ruined anything. I barely convinced him to stay for a few more minutes because he wanted to just leave with us,”

You gave a little nod to that, taking a sip of water and a deep breath.

Sure everyone got overwhelmed but this was only the beginning. Austin’s career was speeding up, not slowing down, and you couldn’t keep the thought that he probably wanted a partner that could keep up from creeping into your mind. Looking at the floor of the car, you picked at your nail beds. All good things eventually came to an end. This was bound to be no different.

You recognized the sound of his running before you saw Austin appear outside of the passenger side door out of the corner of your eye, breathing almost as heavy as yours was.

“Hey baby,” He rushed out, slamming the door shut behind him. You turned your gaze up just enough to meet his eyes, and see his face fall when he realized you’d been crying.

That look alone was enough to get the waterworks going all over again, Austin scooting closer and pulling you into his arms, pressing his face into the side of your head.

“I’m right here, God- I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have let Kayla tell me to hang back,” He rambled out and you shook your head against his shoulder, pulling back and sniffling.

“She was just doing her job, you were doing your job and I couldn't handle it and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to so if you want someone who can then I understand, we can break-”

“Y/N,” He cut you off before you could finish that thought, grabbing one of your hands from where you were wiping your eyes, the pad of his thumb circling your wrist. “I need you to listen to me, okay?”

Starting to feel a smidgen calmer, mostly from his touch, you managed to give a little nod.

“You’re not wrong that things are going to be like that, and maybe a little worse from here on out, you’re not. If you wanna take baby steps to get used to it we can meet with Kayla and figure out how to do that,” He started, speaking softly. “But if you never get used to it or like it then we’ll make that work too, because I love you. I love you so much, and that’ll never change.”

You managed to look up then, overwhelmed for different reasons now, chief among them not fully understanding what you did to deserve the man who was near in tears reassuring you. You cracked a tiny half smile and his face perked up at that, a hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“There’s my pretty girl,”

“Your best girl?” You quipped back, dropping your voice into the best Elvis accent you could do through the lump that was still in your throat.

He laughed softly and pulled back enough to click his seatbelt as the car started to move, pushing the body strap behind his shoulder so he could lean in to kiss you, hands falling back to your face and upper neck.

You let your hands wander to the lapels of his suit jacket as you kissed him back, being as close to each other as physically possible within the backseat of a car pushing every other worry from your mind.

xxx

#austin butler x reader #austin butler fanfic #austin butler #austin butler imagine #austin butler fic #austin butler fanfiction #elvis #elvis movie

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redfoxwritesstuff · 17 days

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Sunflower, Book 1, Chapter 19

Tom Hiddleston x OFC Series rated: E Chapter warnings: Flashback- I'm still blueballing you on the smut, it's just getting worse this week. The flashback is sexy but hardly crossing to rated M AN: Special gift for a reader having a bad day- Bonus chapter. This will be the last of the bonus chapters though since running two series at the same time is a bit demanding (and a self made hell). We get to learn a bit about Sally's dad! Also, Mia's baking is wholly based on my attempt to make the same for my sister on a time crunch. My centers didn't set though! I love step dad Tom. Masterlist Kofi

~~~~~<3

Mia felt silly banishing Tom to bedtime duty as she quickly whipped egg yolks and sugar. She was rushing and knew that was a recipe for disaster but she didn’t want to give herself a second to chicken out.

She hadn’t know what to expect having Tom back and so she hadn’t planned a fancy dinner or a night out. He was scheduled to be in late so it didn’t seem like it would have mattered anyway, she would have had to have been quick to get Sally back home and to sleep.

Tom showing up significantly earlier was a huge weight off her shoulders logistically. She wasn’t very good at being a wife yet, she didn’t even know how to be a girlfriend very well but she wanted to show him her gratitude.

Ray, Sally’s father, had been her last real relationship and the only things he cared about were booze, gambling or sex. If she wanted to thank him, it had to be with one of those three things if not all three.

Tom was like no man she had ever known though and she didn’t know how to show him her gratitude. The best she could come up with was to make the fanciest thing she could think of.

Would it stack up to the vase of flowers on the counter in front of her? She sure as hell hoped so. Doubt ate at her as she mixed the whipped sugar and egg yolks into the hot cream.

This was a terrible idea.

It was by far, the worst idea she had had since agreeing to stay married.

She saw that body- there was no way in hell he ate things like this. He probably would rather a bowl of fruit or something. On the other hand, she had seen the foods he had ordered when they had gone out to eat.

Again and again she went back and forth on the quality of the idea as Tom crossed the hall from the bathroom with Sally on his back. Giggles filled the apartment and god did it sound good.

As Mia was filling the two small dishes with the mixture, Tom was leaning against the wall by Sally’s bedroom door. “Having fun?” Mia called to him.

“Oddly enough, yes.” His chuckle made her smile. She couldn’t help it, it was just such a unique sound.

~~~~~<3

Mia listened to Tom’s voice reading story after story while she willed the mixt o bake faster. She had managed to get the custards out of the oven before he had finished reading the tenth story. Maybe it was the twelfth?

Who knows anymore? That little girl had Tom wrapped around her finger. Hopefully it would last. This game they were playing, this gamble on forever with a stranger could have shattering results on that little girl.

Fuck, they were being so selfish trying.

Cooling the dishes was the most high stakes gambling she had done in at least a year. Okay, maybe staying married was up there too. If she cooled the water bath too quickly, they would shatter. But she needed them cooled to finish setting.

She didn’t have an extra so she was fucked if one shattered. It felt like she had melted her fingertips off handling the little containers but she got them cooled. The centers had a little more jiggle that she would have liked but she could only hope they would finish setting in the freezer while they finished cooling.

Mia plopped them in the freezer as Tom starting Fox in Socks. She would have to tell him to limit Sally’s stories eventually so that kid would get to sleep at a decent time but for now she couldn’t bring herself to. Sally hadn’t had a father figure in her life in years and she couldn’t stop her from indulging in it at the moment.

Plus, she needed all the extra time she could to finish this stupid ass dessert.

~~~~~<3

Mia didn’t have many fancy kitchen trinkets or tools but the one thing she was rather proud of was her kitchen torch. It wasn’t the big fancy ones that burned propane like on the cooking shows but it was good enough.

Mia toasted the spoonful of sugar she put on each custard as she listened to Tom say goodnight for the fourth time. Maybe it was the sixth time?

He was so good with Sally. Someday, some woman was going to make him into a really good father.

It occurred to her that she could be that woman. If things worked out between them during this year, she could be the woman that made him a father. In a way though, hadn’t she already made him a father over night? The thought was so shocking to her that she nearly burned her finger when she forgot to turn the custard.

Finally, after over an hour bedtime routine that Mia would have accomplished in fifteen minutes, Tom closed Sally’s bedroom door behind him.

“You escaped the clutches of the small child, congratulations!” Mia cheered.

“It was a long, well fought battle but with dedication, I did come out victorious.” Tom made his way toward her, “What are you making now?”

“It’s nothing.” Mia said, setting the torch down and looking intently down at the quickly hardening sugar topped custard. “Is she asleep?”

“Out like a light. She’s a lovely little girl.”

Mia laughed, “Give it a few weeks and you’ll probably be running for the hills.”

Tom protested and Mia conceded that Sally was indeed a good kid. She was the kind of kid that made people think they could have kids as she sent him to go sit down anywhere but where she was working.

While she watched melted sugar solidify, she also watched Tom as he lounged on the couch. His long legs stretched from one end to the other and he had a book in his hand. She couldn’t see what he was reading but she knew it was something she probably wouldn’t read.

She could see the top of the book, his long feet poking over the arm of the couch and the top of his head and little else. It was a view she liked though she couldn’t explain why. He looked like he belonged there, lounging on the admittedly too small couch.

She should have just sucked it up and got a better couch form somewhere that didn’t require her own assembly.

It was almost nine at night. This time a week ago she was just starting to get really drunk. Over the last two weeks, she had tried hard to remember what had happened but all she could come up with was the bar in the resort she worked out and sitting next to a handsome man who purchased her a drink. And then another.

It seemed pretty safe to assume that man was Tom, though. It had been a wild two weeks. She had fought, argued, gave in and everything in between. This had been two weeks that had changed her life in so many ways already and it was thanks to that man reading on her couch (their couch) alone.

Tapping a spoon against the disk of sugar atop the custards, she found them solid. Crème brûlée was the only really impressive thing Mia thought she could make. It was also something she had an almost total ban on ordering at a restaurant on principle alone. It was offensively easy to make but disturbingly bad for you.

The ceramic ramekins clanked onto the small dining table. Mia stared down at them for a moment and gathered every ounce of courage she could. Tom had again and again shown a good faith effort to build a relationship with her and she had not made it easy.

This last week she had fought him on almost every effort than got upset when he got busy and distant. She needed to make an effort too. He deserved her making an effort.

If she wanted this to have any chance of becoming something real, something more, then she needed to invest in it too.

“Okay.” Mia took one last deep breath. “You can look.”

Tom sat up quickly, tossing the book he had been reading on the couch and swinging his legs to the ground. He was up and eagerly making his way to the table as if he had really just been itching for the word.

“What have you been up to?” Tom was clearly excited.

Mia picked up one of the ramekins and held it out to Tom. “Happy two week anniversary.” After a pause, she started to panic. “I don’t know if you like these. Or if you can eat them. Or, whatever. I don’t know. It’s fine if you don’t-”

“You made creme brûlée for us?” Tom was shocked. “Out of what?”

“It’s not healthy, that’s all you need to know.”

Tom laughed that laugh that was oh so unique to him. “But you just had the stuff to make creme brûlée? Just sitting around casually?”

“Do you like-”

“Of course.” Tom took a seat at the table and tapped the spoon against the glass like disk of solid sugar.

“I wasn’t sure if you could have something like that.” Stop talking. She hated how words left her mouth before she had a chance to stop them. Awkward word vomit fueled by every insecurity she had ever had.

“What do you mean?” Tom cracked the sugar top with a solid whack of his spoon.

“I just-”

Tom scooped a spoonful of custard up, being sure to grab some of the shattered sugar before glancing up at her. He watched her intently as he ate the first bite. Vanilla exploded in his mouth, carried on a current of rich custard. Delicate sugar shards gave the custard texture and carried their own caramel taste along with a touch of bitterness.The center of the custard was just slightly warm still but mercifully, Mia saw that it was set.

“Something you watched or read got into your head. I can always eat dessert, even if I can’t. I would rather put in more work than not eat a sweet. And this is delicious darling. Happy two week anniversary.”

~~~~~<3 ~~~~~<3

Tom flipped her so that she was on her back and he hovered above her. Gripping the fabric of the dress, he carelessly yanked at it as he stood up, pulling it harshly down her body.

The dress caught on her hips though. Tom hadn’t ripped it far enough down for it to slip past her waist. Tom didn’t know if the dress was designed to go on from above or if the maze of fastenings simply extended far below where he had torn but he didn’t care.

Leaning down, he placed soft kisses between her breasts and down her stomach as he grabbed fistfuls of the dress again. With a great effort, he ripped the dress further down. As soon as he had the slack to do so, he pulled the dress down her body and threw it on the ground behind him.

Her panties were plain, simple and not what one would expect to find under a wedding dress. They hadn’t stopped long enough to worry about shopping for such things.

Standing over her, he started to work his buttons free after yanking his tie down until it was hanging loose, nearly undone. She was sprawled out before him, naked breasts on full display for his hungry eyes.

He enjoyed the view. There were little scars and marks on her body showing a life well lived. She had marks where her body and grown quickly at one point. Her belly curved and swelled ever so slightly, soft and inviting to the touch.

Growing impatient, she leaned up and eagerly assisted with the buttons on his shirt. The way her breasts moved with her body was mesmerizing, distracting to him. His fingers yearned to touch them instead of the buttons of his shirt. He all but ripped the shirt off as soon as it was sagging around his body, eager to feel her flesh against his.

~~~~~~<3

Tag List: @winterisakiller, @alexakeyloveloki, @jennyggggrrr @dangertoozmanykids101, @tilltheendwilliwrite @tinchentitri @wizardcherryblossom @buttercupcookies-blog @violethaze @kats72 @soulpiercing @evedia

#tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston x oc #tom hiddleston x original character #Tom hiddleston x original female character #tom hiddleston x reader

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mosneakers · 5 months

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The spirit of Agnes and Coraleye enter the elegant Sunset Valley estate. Vintage melodies from a record player swirl, enveloping Coraleye in a sense of nostalgia that she had only known from classic romance films up until this moment.

Agnes: Welcome home, darling. 230 Redwood Parkway, fondly known as "August Moon" by some.

Coraleye: Wow, that's such a magical name. This home is breathtaking, Grandma!

Agnes: It's always been my envisioned haven for raising children. Coraleye: And you owned it? Even while you lived in Moonlight Falls? Who took care of it when you weren't here?

Agnes: My sister, Cornelia, tended to her in my absence. This home held a special place in my heart, and she, understanding its significance, made occasional upgrades, just in case we ever decided to sell. Or, perhaps... return.

Coraleye: Return? As in move back? Agnes: Come, dear. Looks like dinner is finished, and now we're clearing up. I want you to hear this conversation.

As they step into the kitchen, tension hangs thick in the air. Erik diligently washes the dishes while Agnes busies herself preparing ingredients for tomorrow's meals. Neither utter a word, until Agnes finally breaks the silence.

Agnes: Erik, I... I must apologize for snapping at you during dinner. That was quite unwarranted. You were right—I ought to have shared the news with you about the fire. I know the Seymour house was so dear to your heart. It was for me, too. I hope you're not angry with me.

Erik: Ain't mad at ya, Aggy. Gee, I suppose I overreacted too. It's not just about the house; I can live without that. My decent paying job in Moonlight Falls, no chance nobody here'll pay the same. Cost of living's a lot higher, and...well, I've been hoping you'd eventually come 'round to having another baby with me, honey...

Coraleye: [eyes misting] Grandpa really wanted another baby, didn't he? Agnes: [Smiles fondly] Oh yes. But I was quite stubborn. Coraleye: I think Janie mentioned a bit about the fire being the reason for you moving back here. Did you figure out how it happened? Agnes: No, we never did. But the Crumplebottom Sisters informed me that it destroyed everything. Even their great powers couldn't reverse the damage. I had planned to tell Erik, but Belinda beat me to it with a telephone call.

Agnes: [Continuing with Erik] You know I've always said that I'm content with our two. Erik: I know baby, I've just had my fingers crossed one day you'd change your mind. Just a pipe dream, that's all. Agnes: [Sighs] Well, darling... We'll need to sort through our finances. It seems you might just be getting your way, after all...

Erik: What are you telling me, woman? Agnes: It's still early yet to, but... I find myself a tad late.

Erik: Late for tea and crumpets with the ladies at the country club, or are we talking more along the lines of a bun in the oven? Agnes: It could be. Again, it's still very early. Just three days.

Erik joyfully sweeps Agnes into his arms, twirling her as they share a tender kiss. A soft giggle escapes Agnes's lips.

Erik: Aggy baby, you make me the luckiest man to ever live or die!

Coraleye's heart swells with emotion as she witnesses her great-grandfather express his unconditional love for Agnes with such passion and honesty. They follow the Darling pair into the living area to join the girls, particularly Gwendolyn, who are engrossed in the television.

Coraleye: Gosh, look at how you two lovebirds are gazing at each other. TV not holding your attention much, is it? [Grins]

Agnes: Well, I've always preferred books. [Smiles] The television often broadcasted troubling news, especially that year when the government confirmed the existence of aliens. I made the children turn it off promptly if I heard any talk of extraterrestrials.

Coraleye quickly averts eye contact, wondering how much Agnes knows about the current state of the world, particularly Sunglo, his abduction, and how those events resulted in the birth of his beloved daughter.

Knowing her great-grandmother's well-documented phobia centered around extraterrestrials, Coraleye opts to change the subject for the time being.

Coraleye: Hey, Grandma? How did you and Grandpa know to bring the family photos along on your trip to Sunset Valley? Most people don't bring all their family photos on vacations.

Agnes: [Grins] My, I did say you were observant, didn't I? Coraleye: Well, astute. But yes. I hope to land a career in journalism, just like Grandpa! Agnes: [Nods approvingly] A journalist in the making, just like your Grandpa. No, the decision to take the photos along was merely a coincidence. Like you heard your Grandfather say, I make him "the luckiest man to ever live or die!"

#ts4 #MD4season10 #MD4 #Coraleye Darling #RealmOfMagicGetaway #Agnes Darling #Many Moons Ago #Many Moons Ago: Gen 1 #MMA Gen 1: Ch. 16 #Erik Darling #Gwendolyn Darling #GIF #Persephone Darling

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sflow-er · 3 months

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I don’t think August will have any kind of legal repercussions unless the drugs do come out and/or he gets officially accused for the video and it becomes a Wilmon vs August situation. I do think though we might get social justice and honestly that’s the biggest punishment for August since his status is all he cares about and needs in order to succeed in life. If they take that away from him he is done (which is also why I could maybe see his mental health getting even worse).

That being said, 6 episodes (even if one of them might reach a one hour length) aren’t enough and I’m scared the multiple storylines will be rushed and some things not even properly addressed…

Hi anon! Sorry it's taken me a couple of days to reply.

I'm a little confused about the first part, as the drugs and the video are the only things August has even done that could lead to legal repercussions. But I'm guessing this ask is more of a general response to my criminal justice post...? That post was never meant as a prediction of what is likely to happen in S3. It was an attempt to describe how things could potentially turn out if the show did go down the police investigation + charge route. Around the time when I wrote that post, many fans seemed to be hoping for August to get 475 years in prison for making and posting the video, which simply wasn't consistent with legal precedent or the basic tenets of the Swedish justice system. So, I wanted to try and explain the framework. As for the most likely outcome in the show, I do think 'social justice' (in your words) or perhaps even 'poetic justice' is a decent prediction! It would be a pretty fitting end to August's arc for him to be locked out of the inner circle he was so eager to gatekeep, and to see his own actions cost him everything when he started out telling Wille that people like them could get away with murder. That being said, I do think it's a bit of an oversimplification to say that status is all August cares about, as there's a lot more to it than just him being hungry for power and success. I mean, he definitely is, don't get me wrong! But his status is also inextricably linked to his father's memory and legacy, which he cares very much about, and his sense of self-worth, which is very low underneath all the bravado. In other words, you are spot on that losing his status would be a critical blow. I also agree that we'd have every reason to worry about his mental (and physical!) wellbeing in that scenario - and that's where my opinion probably diverges from the majority of the fandom. No matter how awful and wrong August's actions were and how much I want to see him held responsible (whether legally or socially), I personally believe in rehabilitation through accountability and effective intervention. Especially in young people whose brain isn't even done maturing yet, but also in adults (as my spouse's work in a relevant field proves to me over and over). I want to emphasise that I'm not talking about August being forgiven. His victims don't owe him that, nor does he deserve it when he doesn't even fully understand the gravity of his actions or regret the harm he caused to Simon for example. I'm just saying that seeing some consequences is an opportunity for him to get some help. To start dismantling his warped views, building the true self-worth he lacks and the resilience he needs to weather the loss of his status, and somewhere down the line, growing into someone who no longer hurts others and himself the way he's been doing. I'm aware that we probably won't get to see that growth in the six eps we've got left. I'm just crossing my fingers for some hints in that direction - him looking into therapy, picking up a pitchfork to muck out Rousseau's stall at a decrepit Årnäs, or if he does end up in community service for example, getting started on that. I am also reasonably prepared for some of his issues to not be addressed, even if I do see that as a huge missed opportunity. But I dread the possibility of the show ending with him in a state where we can expect him to end up like his father, completely alone and unable to cope with the consequences of his own actions. It would partly sully Wilmon's well-deserved justice for me and make for a tragic ending (and as August is quite universally hated in the fandom, I'm not at all sure how that would be received).

#young royals #august horn of årnäs #august horn #young royals analysis #young royals speculation #yr fandom #august anon discourse

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im-a-king-baby · 7 months

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I love the laura bonus ficlet! Do you maybe can write about her thoughts of when she found out that it was Wilhelm who was there with Simon in Bjärstad?

Thank you for loving Laura! (The previous Laura ficlet is here to give context)

Also for the reblogs, this is a bonus ficlet from my longer YR fic Everybody Loves You Now!

This picks up from slightly later in the conversation in the car between Simon and Laura.

Laura considers her next question for all of thirty seconds before going with her gut. “Is ‘Fuck this Motherfucker’ about Candace?”

Simme laughs. She made Simme laugh! There's a little buzz of pride in her stomach. “Is that what people think? You guys know I didn’t write it, right?”

“I know, but you said you always try to have a concept in mind when you sing, to make the songs about something.”

He gives a little nod, acknowledging her point. “True. I guess it’s about Candace a lot.” He shrugs. “But one time it was definitely about this stretch of highway we’d been on the night before that was so full of potholes -”

“Atlanta to Nashville,” she says, instinctively, like this is some Simme trivia game and not just her knowing a weird number of facts about his actual life. “Sorry. I just… I saw the video.”

She glances sideways at him again. He looks amused rather than mad, and he hasn’t refused to answer any of her questions yet so she kind of has to. “Can I ask… Who do you think about when you sing the love songs?”

“Wilhelm.”

There’s no hesitation to it. No equivocations, no questioning. Just the name, said so softly that it takes her a moment to connect it to the reality of Crown Prince Wilhelm who gives speeches on Year with the Royal Family and gets photographed in suits hugging babies and opening hospitals.

It’s a weird crossing of streams, realising The Crown Prince is a person and there are people he dated in high school who say his name like it’s something precious they want to keep hold of.

But like, that was four years ago. And Simme hasn’t even been back to Sweden since. “Still?” she finds herself asking.

“Yeah.” He’s looking out the window, at the shadows of trees in the darkness. “He’s the only… there’s never been anyone else.”

There have been four years of constant wall to wall news coverage of Simme with this popstar or that actor or this reality TV star. Simme laughing off his high school relationship with the Prince of Sweden like it was nothing at all. “I thought… I mean we all heard about Alfonso…”

He laughs something bitter lingering at the edges to it. “I thought it was a marketing stunt, he thought it was true love. We didn’t last.”

“But you and Wilhelm are still…”

“No,” he says. “We’re not.” His fingers drum against the door handle. “Can you pull over? Just for a minute. I need to do something.”

She’s at that point where she’s basically awake but is refusing to admit it, nestled down into the covers trying to avoid opening her eyes, half thinking that if she does everything that happened last night is going to turn out to be a wild dream and she’ll be back in Gothenburg about to wake up and drive to Stockholm to meet Stan and see the show.

Then there’s a gentle knock on the door and an unmistakable voice says, “Hey? Can I come in?” and Laura opens her eyes to a closet-sized bedroom with posters of horses on the walls.

She’d found a nightshirt to sleep in that falls all the way down to her knees, so she’s decent enough to sit up and say, “Okay?”

Simme steps into the room. He’s changed into a purple hoodie, but otherwise he looks much the same. Like he hasn’t slept or showered since he dug out a silk pillowcase from the depths of the linen cupboard. His eyes catch on the horse posters, lingering a moment too long before he looks down at her. “There’s lunch. If you’re hungry.”

She wants to ask ‘are you okay?’ but his eyes keep darting back to the walls, his hands are twitching and he had to pull over multiple times so he could snort a powder that she’s really hoping was not cocaine so she’s not sure she’s ready for the answer.

Also now he’s mentioned food, she’s realising she’s starving. “Sure.”

He nods, takes a step back so she can stand up and then leads her back down the tiny hallway, past family photos that she resists the urge to stop and peer at, and into the kitchen where there are two strangers setting the table and one of them is Crown Prince Wilhelm.

She lets out a noise that might be a yelp, starts a, “You’re-” but thankfully cuts herself off before she can say something completely idiotic like ‘you’re here’ or ‘you’re the prince’ or ‘you’re taller than you look on TV.’

It turns out there is a difference between knowing there is something going on between Simme and the Prince and actually seeing said prince in the flesh wearing Simme’s white hoodie instead of a neatly pressed suit and setting out plates on the kitchen table.

Only the hoodie was oversize on Simme but clearly fits Prince Wilhelm just fine so that’s… a thing.

“Hello,” she says, trying to get back to normal only this isn’t normal because he’s a prince so like. “I mean, your majesty.”

Prince Wilhelm smiles. Up close, it’s the same kind of smile Simme keeps giving her, the one he seems able to paste over whatever he’s really feeling in the moment. “Your majesty is my mother,” he says. “Call me Wilhelm.”

Which of course just reminds her of being in the car the night before, the way Simme’s voice softened on Wilhelm’s name. And Simme had said they weren’t still… but Wilhelm is here, in this middle-of-nowhere town. Not Simme’s team, not Candace, just Wilhelm.

A good half of the internet would pay a large fortune for a glimpse of what she's seeing now. The way Wilhelm's eyes track Simme's progress through the room, the way Simme's whole body seems angled towards the Prince even when they're not interacting at all.

"Have you told anyone you're here?" Wilhelm's bodyguard asks her.

She hasn't. And as Wilhelm and Simon both reach for a plate at the same time and flinch back a moment before their fingers brush, she knows she never will.

#elyn fic #commentary meme #bonus content meme #tw drugs mention #at one point I wanted to write a whole laura spin-off just about how wild it would be to be in the car with Your Blorbo for two hours #just imagine the awkward weirdness

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celestiarambles · 4 months

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Hitmen Have Feelings Too

Hii this is my contribution to JoMarina Week 2024! I'm posting this now because it's actually January 6 here in my country xD

Just a disclaimer, I have never been to a bar nor to India, so what happens in this one-shot may or may not be accurate

I apologize for any mistakes in the chapter. I hope you enjoy! (I actually enjoyed writing this lmao)

JoMarina Week 2024 Day 6 - Bonds

Summary: When Carmen takes some of the Bureau members out for a much-needed break after the disasters in India, Marina and Jonah drunkenly bond with each other, making Marina realize that Jonah wasn’t as bad as she thought he’d be.

Also cross-posted on Ao3: Hitmen Have Feelings Too - celestiamirasol - Criminal Case (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own]

Marina knows how beautiful she is. Her coworkers tell her that everyday, and men would immediately tell her how smitten they are with her even when they just met.

However whenever she looks at the huge scar on her neck caused by the assassination attempt she survived years ago, she would constantly think otherwise.

It’s the only thing that catches her attention whenever she would look at herself in the mirror. No kind of concealer could even cover it up. Screw it. Once she finishes up her makeup, she grabs one of her scarves on her dresser and wraps it around her neck, adjusting every fold to make sure no inch of the scar could be seen.

“Marina!” Carmen knocks on her door. “You ready to go?”

“Just a second!”

After solving a murder in Bollywood, India, Carmen and Athena invited the Bureau for some drinks for them to finally relax after the previous events that transpired recently, but only her, Angela, and Jonah decided to come along with them. Jack wanted to hang out with Lars (even though Lars was busy with his book, The Flashing Light), Ingrid declined due to work, Ripley just simply didn’t want to and Dupont was trying to learn how to play cricket. Elliot wanted to come along, but Carmen didn’t allow him to since he was underage.

When they arrived at a bar in Mumbai (whose people were able to quickly pick themselves up due to the recent flooding), the place was decently packed with people, with performers playing Bollywood music, making its nightlife alive even though the sun was only about to set.

Occasions like this are rare for the Bureau due to the demands of their job, so Marina rarely gets to drink. She doesn’t like drinking on the job, for it makes her even more stressed. But once she gets the chance to, she immediately seizes it.

“We deserve this, guys.” Athena says as she comes back with Carmen, both setting down various bottles of alcohol on the table. “When I was still a cop in Pacific Bay, we would usually go out and bond with drinks after a major case.”

“I guess we just don’t do it after what happened with the chief back then in Spain…” Carmen sighed, pouring a drink. She then slides it over to Angela. “So Angela, what’s the deal with Lars and that book? Has he finally found that spiritual enlightenment?”

Angela accepts the shot glass. The golden wedding ring shimmering in her finger caught Marina’s attention. “I don’t know, I still haven’t been able to talk any sense into him. Ever since he started reading that book, he’s been raving about the flashing light. At first, I just thought that he meant the bulb in his lab was broken. But then I realized it was the name of the guru’s book!” She quickly downs the shot. “It’s like he’s been indoctrinated!”

Being the psychologist of the team, Marina would usually help and offer advice to her teammates as a friend. However, she couldn’t think of any sensible advice to give somehow. There’s a reason why she chose to specialize in criminal psychology instead of marriage counseling, after all. All she could say was, “Maybe it’s his way of coping after his near death experience?”

“Oh. definitely.”

As the coroner continued to rant about her husband (with the agents trying to butt in with some advice along the way), she noticed how Jonah, the only guy in the group, was only simply intently listening. Or he was probably trying to. His ice cold eyes stared off at the distance, swirling the liquor in his glass before downing it, then would occasionally pour himself another one. He probably doesn’t understand the topic at hand. Why would he? Marina thought. Based on her psychoanalysis back then, hitmen like him aren’t capable of basic human empathy. Would he even be able to understand the concept of love? To her, they’re all psychopaths.

“Well, maybe we can leave early and you and Lars could have a date night together. We have the night off, after all.” Carmen suggested, smiling at her.

To Marina’s surprise, Jonah suddenly spoke up after being silent the whole time. “Yeah… maybe this time, you can properly communicate your feelings with him. It’s best for you two to open up to each other as a married couple, after all.”

“Well, I understand that the recent occurrences were traumatic to both of us… but I’ve tried my best to communicate with him. He’s been only focusing on that book he’s been reading. He wouldn’t even look at me.” Angela downed another shot. “I just want him to at least talk to me, tell me how he’s feeling…”

“We were all so busy with the recent disasters here in India, he probably hasn't fully understood what he’s feeling, so like what Marina said, turning to the guru is his way of trying to process things. At least try to understand that, and Lars should understand that you’re trying to reach out to him. Understanding’s the key to forgiveness, after all.`` Somehow, Marina could feel that Jonah’s gaze has shifted to her for a different reason. And whatever reason it may be, she didn’t like it.

“Wow Jonah, are you drunk already?” Athena laughed. “I didn’t know you could get so philosophical like that.”

“He has a side like that.” Carmen smirked, taking a sip of her drink.

She didn’t know that Jonah’s presence could annoy her even more. Why the hell did this blockhead decide to even come with us? She downed her drink and grimaced at how the liquor permeated in her throat.

After a few shots with the group, Marina decides that she had enough of Jonah’s existence and separates from them, heading straight to the bar. She called the bartender over, unconsciously twirling her hair. “Could you give me… a drink that could best describe how you think of me?”

During the rare occasions that they get to visit bars, this was Marina’s favorite game to play. She was enthralled by the raw, authentic atmosphere in bars, especially on how people wear their heart on their sleeves after getting drunk, in which they begin to show their real selves. She believes that everyone hides in a facade. And she was interested to know what bartenders would think of her so-called facade.

With a blush on his face, the bartender agreed and got to work, with Marina watching. After mixing and shaking the contents, he then poured a colorful liquid onto a shot glass, then he grabbed a lighter and set the alcohol aflame. “Sweet and feisty, just like you. And with a hint of vodka, too.”

Amused, Marina took a spoon to diffuse the flame. “Is it that obvious?”

“Your Russian accent? Definitely. It makes you hotter, may I add.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Oldest trick in the book. Once the flame was smothered, she downed the drink. She could taste the heat in her mouth, but there was definitely a hint of sweetness to it.

“How is it?” “Do we have a problem, buddy?” Like a menacing guard dog, Jonah approached the bar and glared at the bartender, holding a bottle of whiskey. Intimidated by his rugged look, the bartender immediately scurried over to the next customer.

Great. The psychologist frowned as the weapons expert sat next to her. She looked away from him, refusing any contact with him as possible.

But he insisted. “Hey.”

“Otyebis.” She muttered in Russian.

“So uh… why did you leave us?” His intimidating aura somehow dissipated, like this time he’s the one intimidated by Marina.

“Because I hate your face.” Jonah frowned and set down the bottle of whiskey on the bar counter. “Well, you never accepted the amulet I tried to give you…”

“That’s because an amulet won’t fix anything.”

“Well… could a drink at least fix something?” He grabbed Marina’s shot glass and filled it with liquor.

“Most definitely not.” She rolled her eyes. “You could’ve poisoned that.”

“Why would I even do that?” “You tried to do it once, maybe you’re here in the Bureau because you’re still out to get me!”

He chuckled in response. “You have quite the creative imagination, sweetheart. I shoot my targets, I don’t poison them. And I told you, I never miss a shot.”

“I remember that. And I also remember you telling me you purposely missed because you thought I was beautiful. What, were your previous targets hideous?”

“I-it’s not that, I swear!” Jonah blushed. “Normally, my targets are ordered to be killed because they’re threats. A danger to society. Take Omar Bahir for example, if I hadn’t killed him, Carmen and Athena would’ve been the ones dead. But you Marina… from the moment I saw you, I had a feeling you didn’t deserve to die. And I was right. You shouldn’t be the one to pay for exposing their crimes.” Unconsciously, Marina picked up the glass of whiskey and took a swig, the memory of her assassination attempt still fresh in her mind. How the bullet flew in the air in less than a second, giving her no time to dodge, and the color of the wintry blue sky in Russia as she laid helpless and bleeding on the Russian snow, too weak to call out for help.

As a psychologist and a criminal profiler, she would know whether a suspect was lying or not, the inner machinations of her mind, and a higher level of understanding and empathy. The Bureau only hires the best, and she is deemed the best in their eyes. But Jonah… she couldn’t see through him. Or maybe it’s because she refuses to.

Are hitmen really capable of having human empathy?

The funky and exotic Bollywood music overpowered the silence of the two as they took turns pouring and drinking their glasses of whiskey. Both of them didn’t know what to say, nor what to do.

Feeling awkward, Jonah scratched his neck. “I know sorry won’t fix what’s done… but I truly am sorry, Marina. I don’t know how to make it up to you.”

Then as if the alcohol began to take complete control of her body, Marina grabbed Jonah’s shot glass and she almost overflowed it with whiskey as she poured it. “You can start by taking a shot for me.”

“What?”

Her lips formed a playful smirk. “Hit or miss.” Jonah shook his head and downed it, some of the liquid spilling on his shirt. “Is that… all you want me to do?” His words were slurring.

“Ha!” The psychologist laughed loudly. “You’re already drunk!” “So are you.” He chuckled lightly to himself.

Suddenly, the alcohol made Marina forget her previous animosity towards Jonah. She didn’t know how long they stayed chatting drunkenly in the bar, but she was surprised at how similar they actually were.

“You actually took Psychology too?!” She was shocked, but her drooping eyes prevented her from expressing it.

Jonah nodded. “I actually planned to go to med school, but then I got enlisted in the army and then my focus just shifted. It actually comes in handy during hostage situations, I was glad I was at least able to finish it.”

Another conversation then opened up once Marina offered to check out the amulet that Jonah wanted to give her so badly. “So this thing symbolizes forgiveness?”

“Uh yeah, just like what that Dupont said.” She smiled. “I’m actually quite interested in cultural trinkets like these. It’s one of the things that I look forward to whenever we go to different places for missions.” “So… does that mean you forgive me?”

The amulet glimmered in her hands as Marina contemplated his question. “...Not until we dance first.” “Wha - hey!” Jonah had little time to process what the psychologist said as she pulled him to the dance floor of the club. She then broke away to shimmy along to the smooth tunes of the trumpets and drums. “C’mon… don’t tell me you don’t know how to dance?”

A smile slowly spread across his face as he awkwardly stepped side to side and bobbed his head to the beat, watching Marina drunkenly dance. Catching his lack of dance moves, Marina shook her head and took his hand once again. “That’s not how you dance…”

She attempted to spin him. Jonah twirled regardless of their height difference, laughing at Marina’s enthusiasm. “...that’s how you dance!” She yelled.

The two then laughed, jumped and swayed along to the music, their playful dance moves drastically clashing with the dramatic and funky mood of the music. Jonah then pulled Marina closer to him.

While the blood orange sun sunk on the horizon, the air became hot yet invigorating at the same time. Something seemingly put them on a high they can’t back down, and it wasn’t the alcohol.

Then like a magnet touching a metal surface, the two kissed.

It was like they were the only ones there at the bar. Marina closed her eyes, lost in the moment, while Jonah placed his hand on her shoulder, longing to get closer to her. But by accident, he made her scarf slip and her huge scar was now then exposed to the world. To Jonah.

Feeling the hot air turn chilly and breezy, Marina then pulled away to see her scarf on the floor. It made her snap out of the drunken trance she was in..

Jonah’s eyes widened at the huge scar, realizing where she got it. “Marina…”

“Get away from me!” She picked up her scarf and then ran away, stumbling a bit. Jonah didn’t know whether to chase after her or not, but he still did, worried that something might happen to her if she got away from his sight.

“Marina, I’m sorry!” “No!” Marina ran outside, where she accidentally bumped into Athena, whose phone was in her ear, looking a bit confused.

Athena lowered her phone and ended the call. “Marina, I was trying to call you -” “Marina, please, I didn’t mean to -” “NO!” Marina grabbed Athena’s hand. “Stay away from me, and never talk to me again!” He then turned to Athena for help, who just sighed. “Carmen and Angela headed out earlier, Angela wanted to try and talk some sense into Lars again… I suggest you sit in the front of the cab later, Jonah.”

Once they were able to haul a cab, Marina was the first to go inside the back seat, trying to distance herself from Jonah as far as possible inside a small cab. Frowning, Jonah did what Athena said and sat in front.

“So… what did Jonah do?” Athena asked once she was sure that the weapons expert was asleep after a few minutes.

Staring out the window, Marina contemplated how to respond. Both of them were drunk, so she didn’t know whether both of them mutually consented to that kiss or not. She didn’t know (or maybe remember) if they actually enjoyed the kiss. Marina wanted to hate it, but the foggy memories of the things Jonah told her about him, his interests, the guilt in his eyes when he saw her scar…

Is there really something more to Jonah than assassinations and murder?

For a whole week, she’d been thinking about it. Ever since the kiss, Jonah never attempted to approach her again. He would avoid her gaze whenever they’re both in the breakroom while Marina reaches for a bag of tea. He wouldn’t look at her during briefings or emergency meetings with the Bureau either. Whatever eagerness was first there trying to make up with her before was now replaced with hesitance and fright.

A cup of tea in her hand, Marina sighed once again while thinking about Jonah. It felt embarrassing for her to admit he has been on her mind ever since they kissed.

She knew she wasn’t overreacting, so she didn’t need to apologize. Any person would react like that if they ever survived an assassination attempt before. She’d even think it was Stockholm Syndrome given that he held her captive before, but no, she wasn’t like that…

Her previous animosity towards him turned into curiosity. The previous psychological analysis she conducted towards him was on her desk. It indicated her perception towards him as an aggressive, dangerous individual with volatile instability… previously, she’d immediately thought he wasn’t to be trusted. Her instincts were never wrong, after all…

However, he refused to kill her. He had principles, he wasn’t easily blinded by the money nor the task at hand. He could’ve chosen to kill her without any further questions, but he chose not to. And somehow, he brought along the guilt of almost killing her all this time.

Maybe there’s a chance I was wrong about him.

Knock, knock. Marina turned to her office door. “Come in!”

The door opened to reveal Athena. It made Marina a bit disappointed, hoping it was Jonah. “Hey, Lars is inviting us to the monastery since he’s going to renew his vows with Angela there. Wanna come?”

“Uh, sure, definitely.” Maybe it’d help her take her mind off of Jonah for a bit.

But it didn’t. As the Bureau watched the happy couple kiss amidst the orange rays of the sunset, it only reminded Marina of their own kiss. And why she chose criminal psychology instead of marriage counseling.

“I am so happy that Angela and Lars have made it through all these hard times, Athena…” She whispered to the agent beside her.

“Definitely. I hope their marriage will keep staying strong.”

“Me too…” She heard Jonah say, who was on Athena’s other side. “Marriage is hard work. It takes guts to forgive…”

“Speaking of forgiveness…” Marina spoke up and turned to Jonah’s direction. This time, there was no alcohol influencing her. It’s simply her own conscience. “Jonah, I've had time to think... about how you disobeyed your orders to kill me… Maybe I should get a better understanding of your side of the story... over some tea?”

“Tea? With me?” Jonah’s eyes widened, the blush evident in his face. “Uh, sure! Just say when.”

She laughed in response, hoping to bond with Jonah, their hearts finally on their sleeves. Without any liquor. “...When.”

#criminal case #criminal case game #criminal case save the world #jomarina week 2024

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