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loveshotzz · 1 year

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Big Boss

older!steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve’s had a stressful day at work, you know just how to help.

word count: 1.8k

warnings: 18 +porn with little plot, we’re just giving our favorite daddy some sloppy toppy. oral (m receiving), dirty talk.

authors note: this is just a little fun blurb in the colors univserse but could be read as a stand alone. Had to finish this as a joe keery day gift to you. inspired by this post . thank you @pastel-pillows for always being so filthy in my asks and every single one of you for always being horny for our favorite boy with me.

Steve was stressed, you could tell by the way he only came out of his office once to refill his coffee mug instead the half dozen times he’d found excuses for your first two days here. Finally reappearing again when the clock struck 4pm, his bare feet pad with force against the plush cream carpet of his living room where you sit lounged out on the contrasting dark brown leather couch. A guest. Scratching his peppered scruff with deft nails he grumbles a “Hey honey” giving you a chaste kiss on that top of the head before running a clearly frustrated hand through his already messy hair stomping off to the kitchen.

Despite the itching feeling to go check on him, you decide to give him space. This was unchartered territory. You try to refocus on the passage of the book you’d left off on before he appeared, avoiding the picture of Jenny hanging on the wall that always seemed to catch your line of sight.

The pop of a cork being pulled makes you jump, the hollow noise echoing through the hall before the clink of glass signals he's pouring wine. You wonder if it’s the same as last night, cheeks heating up at the thought of the way he had you cumming on his tongue in the middle of dinner last night. The flush of the red wine made him insatiable, even though he said it was just you.

Biting your lip into a smile, warmth floods your stomach as you press your thighs together, your body already needing more and he’s not even touching you. Not yet. Closing your book with a sigh of defeat you glance towards the kitchen. Steve’s back is to you as he leans against the island, the black cotton of his shirt stretches over his shoulder blades when he lifts the glass to his lips, downing its contents in one gulp before pouring himself another one.

“You gonna save some for me baby?” The nickname you give him is new, but you say it so sweet it makes his muscles relax at the sound of your voice. You wonder if he’s smiling like you are.

He huffs out a tired laugh pushing off the counter to grab another glass before finally turning around to face you. The smile you’d hoped was there doesn’t disappoint as his hazel eyes meet yours through the thin rims of his glasses. Grabbing the bottle with his free hand, the wet spot in the lace you wore just for him grows when it looks small in his grasp.

“Got plenty saved for you.” He grins at his own joke making his way over as your gaze drops to his loose fitting worn jeans. They look like they’ve been in his possession for years, hanging low on his waist, you get a peek of the happy trail leading to what you’d hope to get to soon.

You uncurl your legs from under you, the small yoga shorts you have on leaving little to the imagination as your toes hit the floor. He steps confidentially between your spread legs, the spark that had been missing from his eyes returning as he towers over you.

“I know you do.” Your fingers gran at the denim on either side of his thighs using them as leverage to pull yourself to the edge of the couch, quirking an eyebrow with a knowing smirk when his pants start to strain.

He holds out your empty glass for you to take, fingertips brushing yours on purpose when you grab it. The intensity of his gaze has you squirming as he holds your eyes, filling the ruby liquid half way. He sets the bottle down on the end table when he’s done, not moving an inch from your space.

Taking a sip, the bitter fruit hits your tongue making you remember it tastes much better on his. Running a bold hand up his thigh, you hook a finger through his belt loop tugging gently.

“What’s got you so stressed?”

His face softens at your question, fingers reaching out to tuck a fly away hair behind your ear. Soft tips tracing the shell, sending goosebumps across your skin.

“Just a long day, nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about.” Running his knuckles across your cheek bone, his lips twitch when you lean into his touch. Already putty in his hands.

“Let me help you relax?” Your words are soft when you look up at him, and the green specks in his eyes turning black.

“You wanna help me relax? How are you gonna do that baby?” The pad of his thumb swipes against your bottom lip when he asks. His jeans tighten even more when your tongue comes out to collect the salt from his skin.

“I’ve got a few ideas in mind, but I need you to sit down first.” your cheshire grin gives away your intentions and he gladly listens.

Standing up when he sits down, his eyes stay on the curves of your body. He watches you intently as you polish off your glass like he’d done in the kitchen before setting it down. Your cheeks heat up from the wine and his stare, getting his full attention like this always makes you bold.

You run your hands over all his favorite dips, the softness of your hips, finger tips catching the hem of his old shirt you’d thrown on lazily after your shower together this morning, teasing just a peek of the skin underneath. Leaning his head back against the cushions of the couch, you enjoy the way he greedily drinks you in.

“This looks an awful lot like teasing me honey.” There’s a playful edge to his voice despite how hungry he looks.

Giggling when you drop to your knees, it only makes his smile grow, pearly whites showing through his pink lips.

“I promise, that’s not my intention. Mr Harrington.” Practically purring his last name, his eyes roll in the back of his head at the sound of it. A low groan rumbling out of his chest when your hands start to wander up his legs, squeezing the muscles of his thighs under the layer of denim in your way. You needed it gone.

The bulge in his pants is intimidating when your fingers brush against the zipper, a low hiss slipping out from between his clenched teeth.

“You gonna let me take care of you?” you look up at him from under your lashes as you find the button of his jeans. Nodding, his pupils take over any color left in his eyes when you pop it open with ease.

“Need it baby.” He sighs when you start working at the zipper, lifting his hips for you so his pants pool at his ankles.

You’re more than happy to find he’s opted out of underwear when his cock springs free smacking hard against the dark happy trail covering his stomach. Precum already leaks from its pretty pink tip and it kicks up when the heat of your breath fans over the sensitive skin. You’ll never get over how big he is, always challenging yourself to take him deeper than the last time even if it left your throat bruised in the process.

The carpet is rough against your knees as you scoot closer, wasting no time to take him in your hands. Your fingers are barely able to wrap around the girth of him as you lick a long flat stripe up the underside. The tip of your tongue tracing the large vein protruding and it makes him exhale a loud breath you didn’t know he was even holding.

“Shit, honey.”

You do it again with a little more mess, spit coating your lips before sucking gently at his sensitive head to collect whatever he already has for you with a greedy tongue. His long fingers find their way into your hair when you take him halfway into the heat of your mouth, humming against him when he starts gently scratching at your scalp.

“S’good for me. Look at you, so pretty like this.”

His praise goes straight between your legs, as you hollow out your cheeks. Spurring you on with his words you try and open up more of your throat for him pumping whatever you couldn’t fit with your hand until you could.

Your nose brushes against the dark patch of hair that frames the base of him when you finally hit your limit. His moan vibrating off the walls echoing through the empty house as you take him deeper than you ever had before.

“God, just like that angel. Taking me so good. Like you were made for this. Made for me.”

You can feel the intensity of his stare, he loves watching you like this. Head bobbing up and down with tears prickling the corners of your eyes that keep looking up at him searching for more. Your tongue swirls around his length in a way that makes him lose his mind while his fingers stay gentle, continuing to play with your hair. His voice is thick with want whispering praises that make you feel special on your knees for him.

The outline of his cock moving inside your throat has him twitching, saliva dripping onto your hand that keeps stroking him while the other starts massaging his heavy balls. His toes curl into the carpet when you somehow fit the rest of him in your mouth, your nose hitting the warm skin of his stomach.

“Fuck! honey, I’m gonna cum, holy shit.” He tugs at your hair signaling to meet his eyes as he starts thrusting up, gagging you just enough to make you restrict around him in a way that has him shooting hot down your throat.

His jaw goes slack, brows pinching together while he holds you right where he wants you, forgetting his gentle nature as his orgasm washes away the stress of his day.

You swallow everything he gives you, making sure to suck him clean as you slowly start releasing him from the confines of your mouth. He shudders with a bob of his Adam's apple when your lips let him go with a loud pop, tears staining your cheeks with a proud smirk. He needed a picture of you like this.

-read more is a bitch line-

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#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington oneshot #older!steve #colors series

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judysxnd · 1 year

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Proofs that Pedro Pascal and Y/n Y/l/n are dating (part 2)

I think I could do this every week, like a series, I like the idea! But actually doing it, is something different, especially because I tend to lose it at some point and forget to publish or I don’t have time 🤷🏻‍♀️ also, if you have any ideas for those, because I am already running out of them but I like doing them.. so, I’m open! And for the last pic, I feel like he would do this face like a shocked face but funny, I don’t really know how to explain it 😂

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1) 12.04.2023, 3:57pm

A fan posted a video on Instagram. First we could see a woman, laughing with another person, another woman we assume. They were in a car. We can hear off camera “is that him?”, the other woman says yes, then turns the camera. Next to her car, there he was, Pedro. They were actually at a red light. He was driving. He did not see the women next to him yet. In the video, we could see another person next to him, but we don’t know who (yet). Then this person moves their position, lightly turning to the left, that’s when we see that it is actually Y/n Y/l/n, and that’s when she notices the woman filming them. At that moment, we could see that Pedro leaned a little towards y/n, but she pointed to the ladies before he could go further, which made him turn. He waved at them, but were quickly interrupted by a car honking at them. The light turned green. The video shows the car leaving. One woman said “what was he doing?” The other said “was he about to kiss her?”, then the video ends.

2) 14.04.2023, around 4pm

Pedro and y/n were seen leaving the gym together. Walking next to each other they were laughing a lot. Y/n was wearing a yellow sports bra and a dark grey short, holding a water bottle. Pedro was in shorts too and wearing his famous yellow lakers shirt, his shorts were also grey. They surprisingly had matching outfits.

3) 15.04.2023, 2:36am

Y/n posted a video on her story. She was in a club. The video started with her in a crowd, dancing. Next to her was a friend, coming to kiss her cheek for the video. Right behind y/n, a familiar face, Pedro Pascal. He absolutely did not see that y/n was making a video and was enjoying himself, dancing a little but mostly drinking his cocktail. Then y/n turned towards Pedro and said “say hi!”. As he didn’t hear her, he screamed “what?” Then looked at her phone. She came very close to him, whispering the same sentence to his ear. Then he came closer to the phone, looked straight at the camera, and said hi, and waved. “Who is it for?” He asked her. “I’m posting it on Instagram!” They looked at each other. He was giving her a look that said “that is not a good idea” and she gave him a look that said “I know but I’ll do it anyway”, then the video stopped as they were laughing.

4) 17.04.2023, 10am (ish)

Pedro and y/n were seeing grocery shopping together. Some fans posted pictures during the day, with the two of them together (and the fan of course). One fan stated that they saw Pedro kiss y/n’s forehead but there were no pictures nor videos.

5) 19.04.2023, 6:13pm

Pedro posted a video on his Instagram story. First we could see him, and we could see he was in a car, but not driving. Then, he turned the camera to his legs, and we could see a hand on his thigh. He moved the camera towards the driver, and it was y/n, looking ahead. When she saw that he was filming, she took her hand away, and put it in front of her mouth, pretending to be shocked. Then she smiled, her eyes switching from the road to the phone. Then Pedro turned the camera back to his face, making a weird shocking face before laughing. We could hear y/n laughing too. Then the video ended. Y/n reposted it on her story later too, adding : “got to give attention to my passenger princess”

#cute #i love him #fanfic #gif #imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #oneshot #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal preferences #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal one shot

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roosteraloha · 4 months

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for worse

jake seresin x reader

wc - 5.5k

warnings - ANGST !! blood, injuries to reader, mentions cleaning up said injuries, arguments + discussions of chronic pain

disclaimer - ANY BLANK/AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED!! I also DO NOT give permission for any of my works to be copied, shared, compiled, translated or posted onto other sites!!

a/n - this is pure angst. i have no clue where this came from but I was so inspired and this just wrote itself.

reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated!!

It’s been a long few weeks for the both of you, not having much time to spend with each other. Having two very busy schedules often meant that one of you missed the other, and heartbreakingly, it was commonly by just a few minutes. Jake’s schedule was vastly more complicated than your own, with the possibility of receiving deployment papers or new missions, occasionally with almost no advance notice. Thankfully, the pair of you hadn’t had to worry about working through the complexities that came with being in a relationship during deployments yet, something that Jake was especially grateful for. He saw himself spending the rest of his life with you, if you let him, but knew a poorly timed deployment had the potential to ruin the longevity of your relationship. That is something that nags at the back of Jake’s mind each and every time he climbs into his plane.

Jake was deeply relieved to be heading home. The entire week had dragged, countless new training exercises and protocols had made for a physically and emotionally draining week. Heading home to spend the weekend with you was exactly what he needed. Still a relatively new relationship, Jake was uncharacteristically nervous, he was eager to take the next step, moving in together, but was keenly aware of just how flighty and generally anxious you were. Moving too fast with you would be heartbreaking, simply because he knew he could lose you, far easier than he gained you.

Pulling into his driveway, the dark house is highly concerning to Jake. Frowning, he checks his watch, and then his phone, acutely aware that he could’ve taken longer on base than he planned, only to find it was 6pm, the agreed upon time. He had text during his lunch break, a quick conversation that informed you that he’d be a bit later than anticipated, and your immediate response reassuring him that you’d be there anyway. What had happened in those six hours that you couldn’t let him know you wouldn’t be here to greet him.

A quick sweep of his house, and no sign of you. No keys, no shoes kicked off by the door, every room empty. Alarm bells start ringing, Jake knows you. You’re not one to not follow through on plans, you’d always text, call or anything you could to get the message through, that’s one of the first things Jake loved about you.

A rather rapid drive over to your apartment is not the calming result Jake was expecting. Actually, it’s far more alarming to have no response at the door, finding it void of you, not even tucked up in bed for an after work nap, like you had been known to do. Jake was half expecting to find you asleep in your apartment, but it being empty, that was far more concerning. It wasn’t like you to just disappear.

On the way back to his house, Jake swung by the café, wondering if you’d picked up an extra shift, and had just forgotten to let him know. His heart clenched when you weren’t there. Your colleagues told him they’d seen you leave at 4pm, your usual finishing time on Fridays, so you could spend extra time with Jake over the weekend. They too were concerned, the usually confident aviator, someone they’d grown to love having around, now having cracks in his carefree persona, his worry for you nearing panic.

Jake’s shoulders felt heavier when he returned home to no signs of you. The worry of not knowing where you were, weighing down on his heart, and his mind.

It was now 7PM.

Jake was still alone in his house, with no communication from you, and all he wanted was to know if you were okay or not.

With still no word from you, Jake decided to head to bed. While he was deeply concerned for you, he also knew he couldn’t stay up all night, he needed to sleep if he was going to look for you.

Trudging up the stairs, Jake’s heart grew heavier and heavier. His concern for you was growing with every hour that passed without any news from you. Exhaling deeply, Jake turned to his bedroom, pausing in the doorway to look at his bed, the side where you should be sleeping.

Brows furrowed, Jake’s eyes scanned the room again. Something was off, something was different from usual, a fact he knew due to his military level of attention to detail.

The right-hand bedside table. Your side.

A slight glisten caught Jake’s eye.

Cautiously approaching to get a better look, only to trip over something, stumbling and grabbing the bed to stay upright. Muttering grumbles under his breath, Jake looked down to see what he tripped over. A pair of boots. More specifically, your boots. His eyes widened at the realisation, eyes darting to the bedside table. Your keys. He knew they were yours from the cowboy hat keychain, the one he bought you from his last trip to Texas, something to remind you of him always.

Heart pounding in his chest, Jake rushes around the end of the bed, calling out for you, turning on countless lights, searching anywhere for you in the diminishing daylight.

The panic in Jake was rising, you weren’t downstairs, and he only had a few rooms left upstairs to check. A slight thud from his en-suite bathroom had him rushing back to his room, nudging the bathroom door open with caution, unsure of what he would find.

From the warm glow of the bedroom lights, Jake can see the outline of your body, curled up on the cold bathroom tiles, knees pulled tight to your chest, head resting against them. That relief he felt was short-lived.

Something was wrong.

Blinded by the immense relief of finding you, Jake pushes the door open further, a forceful shove which causes the door to slam into the wall, making you flinch at the sudden noise. "How long have you been home?! I’ve been looking around for you like crazy! I went to your place and you weren’t there, I even went to the café looking for you!” Jake’s tone is demanding, laced with anger and frustration that you must have been here all along and just never bothered to let him know.

Jake scoffed at your silence, you didn’t even look up at him, instead having remained staring at the ground like had been doing for who knows how long. There’s a quiet mumble that fills the otherwise silent bathroom, almost going unheard by an exasperated Jake. Spinning on his heels, he crosses the short distance between you both, and crouches down directly in front of you, taking a softer approach this time.

“Hey, darlin’. Look at me. Say that again.”

You swallow thickly, looking up, but not at Jake, instead straight past him, fixating on a tile in the shower wall.

“I uh- I can’t- We need to break up Jake.”

Blindsided by this, Jake mentally runs through the past few months, ensuring he didn’t miss any important dates, but your birthday and anniversary were still months away. Things were going well in your relationship, Jake was ready to ask you to move in next month, he’d even cleared a section of his wardrobe for you.

He’d clearly misread the situation.

Now deeply hurting, Jake’s heart dropped, he never wanted to hear those words from your mouth. Not ever. “So you just made that decision for me? You’re not even going to dignify me with that information while looking at me?” The hurt is clear in his voice, his southern drawl seeping through with the intensity of emotion.

You simply shrug, knowing if you look at him, you’d break down. Jake is- was the best relationship you ever had, and that’s why it needs to end now.

Clearing his throat that was thick with emotion, Jake tried to hide just how blindsided you’d made him, choosing to fight for you “Whether you like it or not, I'm not giving up on us. I’m not giving up on you.” Sighing deeply, eyes darting across your face, seeking to catch your eye line, searching for any hint of your emotion. “You gonna tell me where this is coming from? I can’t fix this if you don’t talk to me darlin’.”

Another half-hearted shrug.

Jake nudges you gently, getting rapidly more frustrated when you don’t respond to him at all, but still mindful of your body, and any sensitive areas he was aware of, that was always his priority. You, making sure you were safe and well.

One rather loud clear of his throat has your eyes on him, still refusing to meet his eyes, but this was progress and Jake could work with this. “Darlin’… I can’t fix this, I can’t fix us, if you don’t start talking to me.” At your continued silence, Jake raises an eyebrow expectantly, aware of how emotionally fragile you could be right now, and not wanting to push you much more if he could help it. “Cry, yell, whatever - I'm not gonna leave your side. Especially not until you talk to me.”

Uncharacteristically, you lash out, emotions bubbling over, this conversation not going the way you’d planned it in your head. You should’ve known better. Jake was always one to fight for what he loved. One to fight for you. “Why do you always think there is something to fix?! Am I that big of a burden to you? Hell, what if this is something you cant fix, huh? What then?”

Eyes widened in pure shock at your outburst, Jake shifts to sit in front of you, back pressed against the shower door mirroring you, his feet either side of yours. “You wanna try that again darlin’? Don’t think I didn’t catch that but about calling yourself a burden.” Jake shakes his head in disbelief, it seemed that no matter how many times he reassured you that you were never a burden to him, it never got through to you, you would always view yourself that way.

Now you just shook your head and shrugged weakly, the fight going out of you. Another alarming thing to Jake. “I'm here and I'm not leaving or letting you change the subject. Now talk to me.”

Your eyes dart away from Jake’s face, back to the same tile on the shower wall. Another shrug, to which Jake nudges your knee with his own, clearing his throat again, this time to try and coax you to start talking to him, to go back to being open with him, instead of closing yourself off to him and your relationship.

“You don't deserve someone like me. You deserve someone better.” You breathe out shakily, tears brimming in your eyes, as you finally make direct eye contact with Jake. “Someone like you, shouldn’t be stuck and burdened with someone like me. You deserve so much better than me Jake. I’m sorry I can’t be that for you, but I can’t keep doing this. We need to break up. It’s what’s best for you.”

Now you’d given Jake an idea of where your head was at, what your thought process was, and how he could try and fix this. Even if it meant he’d lose your relationship, the one thing Jake would not lose was you. He just couldn’t.

Attempting a different approach, Jake exhaled slowly, resting a hand on your knee, taking note of you still in your work uniform. You had to have been sitting here alone, in the dark, for hours. "Hey darlin’, look at me properly. I’m here, I'm listening. You can tell me anything. You know that.”

Jake tilted his head slightly, watching you carefully, slowly coaxing you to answer him in any way he knew, “I uh-…” Stopping and trailing off several times in quick succession is only adding to Jake’s concern for your wellbeing, but giving him a better idea of how to get through to you.

Squeezing your knee gently, Jake gained your eyes dart back on his, wide and fearful, a change from the closed off and disassociated look you’d had before. “You don't have to pretend to be fine with me.”

“I feel like the pain is all I am anymore.”

That was not what Jake was expecting at all. Sighing heavily at the idea that you felt like your pain has taken over your entire life, Jake squeezed your knee again, trying to give you as much comfort as you’d let him. With no verbal response from Jake, you carry on, “I know it's selfish, but sometimes I wish someone would just take care of me. So I can just shut off, and not have to deal with everything else for once, y’know?” Sniffling, the first tears spill down your cheeks, “No one ever helped me when I needed it. so, I just try to do my best to keep all that to myself. I don’t want to be a burden Jake. But I can’t keep doing this. I can’t… I can't continue this relationship based on half-truths and hiding my feelings. You deserve better than that Jake, and it breaks my heart that I can’t be that person for you.”

Jake’s eyes burn with emotion at your words, you were constantly putting others before your own well-being, even if it meant leaving your relationship. Leaving him. And it breaks his heart that someone has made you feel like your pain is too big a burden to share, even with those you love. “I know you feel like you're alone and I'm not going to invalidate that. But I can tell you that I'm here. and I know there are other people who want to help if you'll let them.”

Sniffling and nodding reluctantly, you blink back more tears, looking properly at Jake for the first time in this conversation, finding his eyes glassy, with nothing but love and care for you in his green eyes. Nodding himself at finally getting through to you, Jake smiles softly, “Darlin’, I can't promise you that you aren't going to have any more hardship or pain. But what I can promise you, is that I'm always going to be right here to get you through it. Always.”

Bottom lip trembling, you shakily reach a hand out to Jake, seeking his comfort, resigning from your fight to break up, craving him to hold you. He always does know the right thing to say. Assessing your body language, Jake takes your outstretched hand, moving to sit next to you, a strong arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to his body, “It’s okay darlin’. Just let it all out.”

A sob gets stuck in your throat, choking on it as you try and fail to take a deep breath. Jake’s thumb rubbing soft, soothing circles across the bare skin of your arm is all it takes for the sobs to start. Finally releasing all of your pent up emotions, but majoritively of relief. Relief that Jake would never give up on you or your relationship without a fight, and luckily for you, he always knew the right thing to say, the right way to say it, and always, always had plenty of fight in him when it came down to you.

As your heavy sobs continue, your breathing becomes more erratic, something which Jake seems to instinctively pick up on, soft muttering of reassurances, and pressing soft kisses to the crown of your head, stroking your hair softly, “It's okay, deep breaths. That's it, in and out.” Helping to get your breathing back under control, and your sobs to ease into an occasional sniffle, Jake continues to pepper soft kisses across your cheeks and forehead, “There you go, that’s better darlin’. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Your fist is clenched tightly into Jake’s shirt, tears silently streaming down your cheeks, a soft whine leaving your lips when Jake tries to coax you away from his neck, to get a proper look at you. He smiles softly, brushing the last tears from your cheeks gently with his thumbs, “I know darlin’, but you gotta let me up. You need something to eat and then some sleep, okay?”

Another soft whine pulls a chuckle from Jake, who gently moves you off his lap, allowing him to stand. Moving to turn on the bathroom light, a glinting fragment catches his eye. Scanning the rest of the bathroom, there’s several more fragments glistening by you on the tiled floor, and a few scattered across the counter.

Jake quickly flips the light switch, illuminating the bathroom in a soft glow. The bathroom counter is bare, various objects scattered across the far side of the bathroom. The glistening Jake saw was in fact various sized fragments of the countertop mirror.

Upon closer inspection, several fragments were covered in small amounts of blood. Panic stricken that you could be hurt, Jake is immediately back by your side, eyes darting over you, scanning your body for any signs of injuries. Clearing your throat softly, you try to surreptitiously slip your left hand behind your back, not wanting Jake to be alarmed if he noticed you were injured.

Ever the eagle-eyed observer, Jake’s concerned gaze is instantly back on you, stepping closer to you slowly, cautious as to not spook you. Kneeling down in front of you, Jake reaches out for your hand, brows furrowed and eyes full of concern. While an emotional person, you weren’t one to lash out and act recklessly, which is why Jake’s concern and worry for your wellbeing is evergrowing today.

Having slightly zoned out again, you flinch suddenly as Jake’s hand comes into your eye line, head hitting the bathroom under-sink cabinet with a dull thud, one that has Jake visibly wincing. Once again reaching out for you, his heart drops when you scramble away from him, hands getting caught on the loose mirror fragments behind you.

Your eyes are wide and full of distress, a look Jake hates to see in you. Your bottom lip is wobbling again as you look from your hands to Jake and back again several times, as if you didn’t know what to do, and Jake would. Sighing softly, Jake crouches before you, speaking quietly and calmly, “I can't clean you up if you keep flinching away from me so that I can't touch you. Will you give me your hand?” One hand slowly outstretched, palm side up as a gentle reminder he’d always be there for you, “C’mon darlin’. Please?”

A shaky and rather hesitant nod from you has Jake shifting ever so slightly closer to you, trying to get a better look at your hands. This time you don’t flinch, instead looking up at Jake with sorrowful eyes, the intensity of pain that you’re feeling almost becoming too much to hide like you normally would.

Grabbing you firmly by the elbows, Jake gently encourages you to stand, keeping you close to his body as you away on your unsteady feet. Having cleared the counter of any remaining shards, Jake’s hands mode to your waist, lifting you to sit on the countertop, a better hand for him to work on cleaning up your wounds.

“Be honest, how bad is this pain?”

A shrug, “Like a four out of ten? I’ve had worse pain.”

“When you say your pain's 'a four out of ten’, that's a normal person's ‘eight out of ten'.” Jake frowns, slightly frustrated that you are still downplaying your pain levels. “If it hurts, it hurts darlin’. Simple as that.”

A shy nod from you is rewarded with a soft kiss on your forehead, “I can sort out my hand, it’s my own fault. You don’t need to do it for me.” Jake routes through his medicine cabinet for some antiseptics and bandages to properly clean and dress your wounds. "This isn't up for discussion. I know you're used to looking out for yourself, but I need you to understand that you don't have to live like that anymore. I'm here. Just let me take care of you.” Another shy nod from you and a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, happy to have won this fight.

Gentle shushing from Jake is an attempt to soothe any incoming whimpers from the sting of the antiseptic, only to be cut off by a wince upon finding a sliver of glass embedded in your left hand. Blankly, you just look up at Jake and shake your head, as if to say, ‘please don’t do what I think you’re going to do’, but with the resignation that you knew Jake always put your wellbeing first, and he’d do exactly that.

Jake has to grit his teeth as he removes the sliver, pressing kissing of praise when you only whine once, an improvement on the last time Jake had to patch you up. Eying the antiseptic bottle warily, you try to slip off the counter, a strong desire to avoid anymore pain, but a firm hand on your waist tells you Jake isn’t having any of it.

A few swipes into Jake clearing your wound has you hissing in pain, kicking your feet out, trying to push him away, the burning sting of pain almost becoming all-consuming. "I know it hurts, I know. We're almost done darlin’, you’re doing so well.” Next is a dressing and a loose bandage, Jake all too aware of how much you fiddle with tight bandages, there being no point applying on properly when you’re going to sleep soon.

Your eyes light up in relief when Jake tidied up the first aid supplies, “All done?” A terse nod from Jake has you smiling softly, tugging on the bottom of Jake’s shirt, pulling him back towards you, arms circling his waist as you hug him tightly, “Thank you.” A small smile flickers on Jake’s lips, kissing the crown of your head several times, returning your loving embrace, “Always.”

Having scooped you up carefully off his bathroom counter, Jake carries you back downstairs, sitting on an empty section of kitchen worktop. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Now, you just sit there and I'm gonna make you something to eat. We're gonna talk this out more tomorrow. We both need some food and sleep first.” His jaw is clenched tightly, expecting you to argue back and fight him on this, but is pleasantly surprised and relieved when you pull him closer, nuzzling your head into his chest as you nod.

“But first, one important thing, that I’m not arguing with you over. We’re not breaking up. I won’t let that happen.”

Opening your mouth to speak your mind, you pause, Jake raising a challenging eyebrow, almost daring you to fight him on this again. Deciding that Jake was perhaps right, as much as you’d rather not admit it to his face, he usually was right when it came to you and your relationship. Opting to shut your mouth and let Jake take care of you, you nod curtly, watching him step away and busy himself around the kitchen.

It’s fascinating to watch the man you love, so dedicated to taking care of you, work in the kitchen, soon noticing the ingredients he’s picking out, registering that Jake is making your favourite comfort food. Tears burn the back of your eyes, you’ve never had someone so content and determined to take extra time from their day to make you feel better.

Jake immediately is back at your side, hand gently cupping your cheeks, when he notices your expression, searching your eyes for any dog of what had caused your sudden emotion, “Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong darlin’?” Eyes darting down you hand, his fingers gently running over the fresh bandage on your hand, looking for any sign of rebleeding, “Is it your hand? Are you in a lot of pain? Do you need your painkillers? I can get them for you?” Jake pulls away from you, moving to get any painkillers you might need, ever the attentive boyfriend you’d grown to love with your whole heart.

You smile sweetly up at Jake, reaching out for him with glassy eyes, pulling him back to stand between your legs, hand framing his face, stroking gently against the day old stubble. “Jake. Just stop for a second. I’m okay, I promise you. I’m just thinking about how grateful I am to have you to take care of me.” Relieved, Jake kisses you gently, “Even when you fight me when I try and take care of you?” He’s teasing now, you can tell, shaking your head and smiling, you pull him closer by the collar of his shirt, kissing him lovingly, “Of course. I will always be grateful for you Jake, even when I don’t always want your help.”

Kissing you gently again, Jake steps away, lifting you off the counter and leading you into the dining room, setting a portion of food in front of you first, then moving to the adjacent chair and setting down his own. Watching you take the first few bites, Jake only starts eating when he’s entirely sure that your food is okay for your taste.

Finishing your plate, you're surprised at how hungry you actually were. Smiling softly, Jake slides his half empty plate in front of you, content to sacrifice his meal to ensure you don't go hungry. You beam over at him, offering him the occasional forkful.

You’d always take care of each other.

Back in his bedroom, Jake pulls an old t-shirt from his closet, one that he knew you had a not-so-secret favouritism for. Setting the shirt down on the edge of the bed, Jake tenderly starts to help you out of your work uniform. Cautious of how tired you are now seeming, he takes great care to do most of the complicated things for you.

Pulling his shirt over your head, Jake smooths your hair out, combing it out of your tight work hairstyle with gentle fingers, helping to pull your arms through the sleeves, smiling to himself when you can feel the tension of the day leaving your body.

A tired whine leaves your lips when Jake tries to coax back to stand, trying to lead you into the bathroom to fully get ready for bed. Your protests are cut off by a yawn, Jake chuckles, “C’mon darlin’, I know you’re tired, but you’ve got to. You’ll feel better.” A disgruntled grunt from you has Jake laughing, successfully managing to coax you into his bathroom.

Lifting you back onto the counter, Jake pulls out your toothbrush, then his own. He watches you carefully, wiping your mouth with a fresh washcloth when you're finished. Reaching for the hairbrush he bought for you at his place, Jake parts your hair, brushing each section carefully, not wanting to tug on any knots. You giggle at Jake’s attempts to try and tie your hair back, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek when he surrenders the brush to you and letting you pull your hair out of your face properly.

Jake sets a glass of iced water on your bedside table, having carried you the short distance from his bathroom to the bed, tucking the covers over you carefully. He even brought an extra blanket from downstairs to ensure you’d be warm enough, or to at least comfort you a bit more, aware enough of your sleeping habits, to not tuck you in too tightly, and wait until he was next to you to try and help you sleep soundly.

Propping you up against his chest, Jake hands you an anti-nausea tablet, one you occasionally took on your bad days, one that Jake had noticed you’d need through your body language. Staring at it in your hand for a few seconds, you work up the mental courage to swallow, gulping some of the water down to discourage the bitter taste from lingering. He hands you a small blister packet of them, all too aware that you could wake up and need more, but would be too anxious to wake Jake up. It was little things, the basic gestures and actions that made you fall more in love with Jake each and every day that you spend in a relationship together.

Resting your head gently on Jake’s chest, with one arm carefully resting over his torso, you inhale deeply, cut off by a big yawn. Jake secured his arm around your body, pulling the blanket around your exposed arms, his hand coming to rest at the base of your neck, fingers occasionally tracing soft circles onto your scalp, easing the tension there.

The house is quiet, which is not unusual for being so close to a base at this time of night, every for the quiet, yet reassuring mumblings from Jake, reminding you that he’s always going to be there for you, there to take care of you, and most importantly, how much he loves you.

“Next time it gets this bad, you call me okay?” He looks down at you, there’s nothing but love and concern for you in his eyes, and you nod shyly, slightly embarrassed of how your choice to hide away from Jake had in fact caused him more worry, which was what you had been trying to avoid all along.

“You can't keep hiding this stuff.” He lifts your chin up gently with his other hand, trying to get you to look at him again, “I need to be able to trust you to tell me when you're hurting. Whether that’s physically or mentally, okay?”

Gaze dropping down from his green eyes, Jake is quick to whisper more reassurances to you, pushing stray hairs behind your ear, “You are so much stronger and braver than you think you are.” There’s more on the tip of his tongue if you even look like you’re going to dispute his words, yet to his surprise, you nod shyly, eyes flickering back to his loving gaze, “I think I’m starting to get that.” It was a rather shy and quiet admission, yet Jake’s face lit up with pride at your words, and his smile only grew and you continued, “I know that I used to disagree with you rather strongly, but thank you for helping me see clearly. I’m a better person with you in my life Jake. You make me better.”

Jake hums in agreement, it wasn’t exactly hard to see how much better you two were together, how much you bettered the other. This was a first was both you and Jake, and a joy that you both got to discover this kind of loving relationship with each other.

“We’ll talk more about this tomorrow when we’re both properly rested, but I hope you realise that I’ll always fight for this - for us.” Your eyes are fixated on his and you listen intently to what he has to say, majorly aware that the way you went about bringing this topic up to Jake, was the complete wrong thing. Jake wouldn’t give you up without a fight.

Exhaling deeply, Jake offers a different perspective, “Look at it this way - would you love me still if I was the one in so much pain? Would you stay with me for the rest of our lives, like I will for you?”

Your response is instant, “Of course. You know I would.” Jake’s mouth twitches into a soft smile, easing an eyebrow and waiting for you to realise. Your eyes widen as it clicks, looking down at your lap shyly, “Oh… Thanks Jake.” Nodding, he kisses the top of your head, pulling you tightly back to his side.

You can’t help the soft laughter that bubbles up as Jake peppers your face with kisses, there’s not an inch of your face that doesn’t get covered in multiple kisses. Jake can’t fight his own laughter at your infectious one, continuing to kiss you all over, moving to pepper kisses on your hair and neck.

Jake only let up on his over the top display of his affection for you, when it’s clear that you’re struggling to catch your breath because you’re laughing so much at his antics. Grinning, he pulls you close to him, a projective arm around your shoulders while you rest half on his chest, covering you both with the blanket, pressing a final sweet kiss to your forehead, “I love you so much darlin’.”

Smiling tiredly up at him, “I love you too Jake. More than you know.”

While the pair of you had a serious conversation ahead of you, Jake and yourself knew that as long as you had each other, you’d make it through, no matter what life threw at you.

You’d get the chance to spend the rest of your lives with each other.

taglist (let me know if you want to be added/removed)

@sky2nd @els-marvelvsp

#allina writes #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fic #jake seresin #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x you #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick fic #tgm fanfiction #hangman fic

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neonoddeye · 2 months

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A lesson in physics | College! Gojo Satoru x Reader

In these trying times, I will provide: a college au! I actually wrote this as a birthday present for my best friend, but I wanted to post it here as well. It’s also my first chaptered fic, yay! I hope you enjoy :)

CONTENT INCLUDES: AFAB! Reader, cursing, Gojo and reader are both in college and everything is NORMAL and HAPPY, Gojo is a frat boy, enemies to friends to lovers, will be NSFW in later chapter (MINORS DNI)

Monday, 12:00pm

Working with Satoru Gojo on a class assignment was a horror you only conjured in your nightmares. And as you look at the physics class assignment on your laptop screen, you realize you wouldn’t be waking up from this one any time soon.

“Oh god, him?” Your roommate Shoko joins your gaze of disgust as she glances at your fate. “You’re gonna end up doing the whole thing by yourself!”

“Don’t remind me” you whine, leaning back in your chair and placing a hand on your forehead in dramatic distress. “Can I switch with you?”

“Hell no, I’m securing this A with Nanami” Shoko laughs, patting you on the back as a poor attempt at pity. “But we’ll be praying for you.”

You and Shoko had just left said physics class, the two of you lounging at the library to get a head start on the week’s assignments. You couldn’t help but truly stress over your predicament instead of starting on your homework, however: everyone and their mom knew of Gojo Satoru and his infamous Kappa Alpha frat boy title. Ever since he was on your dorm floor freshman year of college, you’ve harbored a vendetta against him. While you were immune to his mesmerizing blue eyes and undeniable charisma, most of your friends weren’t, and pursued him in droves. With every poor girl’s broken heart that he stomped on, your hatred grew, until you infamously bashed him at his frat’s party that same year. While his reputation was almost impenetrable in the eyes of his male friends, you definitely did a little damage to him from the outside. Two years later, you never thought you’d have to deal with him again- until you both enrolled in the same physics class. Hell, you didn’t even think he had the brain capacity to handle a STEM major. And now, you have to work alongside him; you can’t help but question the universe and wonder what you ever did wrong to deserve this.

“Guess I’ll get his contact info” you sigh, pulling up the list of class emails and scrolling for his name.

“Hey! Y/N, right?” You hear a familiar voice ahead of you. Your lab partner, Gojo Satoru, has already found you in the library. The devil works hard, but Gojo works harder.

“Hey Gojo” you reply monotonously, barely glancing at him over your laptop screen. He’s dressed like a poster frat boy, wearing a dark blue knitted sweater vest over a crisp white button-up paired with slim khakis. His paper white hair is unkempt yet tamed, and his irritating blue eyes sit behind round gold-rimmed glasses. His trademark smirk is replaced by an awkward smile as he approaches you; it’s good to know your blow at his ego was permanent.

“Uh, long time no see” Gojo continues while messing with his disheveled hair, “did you see we’re working on that project together?”

You can’t help but let out a belated sigh. “I sure did. You have any ideas for it yet?“

“Oh nah, I haven’t really looked at the whole thing yet. Do you wanna start it right now? I have time.”

“Oh uh, I have to leave for class in 15 minutes.” In reality, your next class starts in an hour; you just didn’t feel like talking to him right now. Still, you keep up the act by packing your belongings to head out.

“Oh that’s all good. Here,” Gojo hands you his phone, presenting an empty contact card for you to fill out. “Let’s set up a time to work on it later. We have two weeks, but I wanna get it over with”.

“Well, that’s something we agree on” you mutter, filling out your contact info on his cracked iPhone screen. You then hand his phone back to him and rise from your seat. “I’m usually free after 4pm. Just remember to actually text me back, Gojo. I know you’re not very good at that.”

“I will, I will,” he chuckles, holding up his hands in surrender to your threat. “Promise!” he holds up a pinky and winks at you, to which you roll your eyes and head back towards the door. You’re really hoping these next two weeks aren’t as difficult as you think they’ll be.

Thankfully, Gojo actually responded, and the two of you agreed to Tuesday evening at the library. You’re currently waiting for your project partner at a cozy corner desk, taking out your notes and laptop to begin the assignment. It’s 5 minutes past the agreed upon time when Gojo saunters up to you; honestly, you thought he’d show up later or forget entirely, so you’re not upset.

“Sorry, club meeting ran a little later than usual,” he says as he slumps into the couch across from you, his legs dangling over the armrest. “I got you this, too,” he adds, sliding a Red Bull over to you. “I don’t know how long we’re working on this tonight, but I thought I’d get us both one, just in case”.

“Oh, thanks. I got something already, though,” you reply, picking up your thermos of espresso and politely pushing back the offering. “What club are you in?” It seems like you’re both attempting to make amends to make the project a little easier.

“I’m in an astrophysics club. It’s nothing much, tho”, he shrugs. We just talk about nerdy shit and occasionally do projects and stuff.”

“I’m not gonna lie, I didn’t expect that from you”, you lean back in your chair, now slightly interested in the man before you.

“Yeah, I actually do more than just party.” Gojo adds while taking out his own supplies. “Believe it or not, I’m not the same guy I was freshman year”.

“You’re gonna have to prove it to me, I’m afraid”, you retort. If he’s trying to charm you, it won’t work.

Gojo clears his throat. “Anyway, here are some ideas I had for the project”. He slides his notebook closer to you, revealing a page full of bullet points aptly titled “project ideas.” His handwriting is messy, but legible, and as you read his notes you’re reluctantly impressed by his insightfulness and creativity. Gojo reveals that he actually stayed behind at his club to relay his ideas and ask for tips, admitting he was more interested in the material than he thought he’d be. As you lean over the table to point out one particular idea, you catch a hint of cologne from him. You can tell it’s not a cheap scent, with notes of mandarin and cypress above amber and leather. His hair is slightly neater than it was yesterday, and up close you can tell that his skin is flawless. You’re almost annoyed at his effortlessly attractive appearance; no wonder so many people fawn over him.

An hour passes briskly, with the two of you making ample progress with the project. Surprisingly, the two of you work well together, even getting off topic a few times to discuss frivolous subjects. You learned that he likes watching cartoons and reading, and wants to go into research after college. You can’t help but feel a little guilty for holding a grudge over him for so long; it seems like he really has changed.

After 30 more minutes, Gojo stands up to stretch. “Alright, we’re done with the outline”, he yawns, taking a sip of his Red Bull. “I don't wanna keep you too long, how about we call it for the night?”

“Sounds good to me”, you yawn in response, closing your notebook. “It takes me a bit to walk home, anyway”.

“You’re walking home by yourself? At dark?” Gojo questions you with genuine concern in his words. “I can drive you home, if you want”.

“Oh no, I’m fine. I do it all the time”, you shrug.

“It’s no big deal to me”, he flashes a small smile. “I respect having the balls to walk home alone at night, but I’d be a dick to not offer”.

“Sure, why not. I appreciate it”. You smile back, getting up to follow Gojo to his car. As you walk with him to his car, the two of you excitedly discuss a new anime you’ve both been watching. You didn’t take him as the type to be an anime guy either, but he’s surprised you a lot today. When you get to his car, it’s as nice as you expect it to be: a slick silver BMW with a clean interior, accompanied by a new car smell. Of course he has money, too. He’s not a menace to society on the road either, and the low hum of his Spotify playlist accompanies the small talk.

“By the way”, Gojo pipes up after a moment of silence, “I feel like shit for how I acted to your friends freshman year. You were right to call me out like that”.

“I know”, you reply, with a hint of playfulness in your tone. He chuckles in response.

“No offense taken. But really, I hope we can be on good terms now. I had a good time, even if we were working on an assignment.”

“Unfortunately, I think I did too”. He’s pulling up to the entrance of your apartment complex, and parks neatly by the door.

“Next time, how about we work at my place? Only if you want to though, just thought I’d suggest some place quieter”.

“I’m down”, you nod, “I could bring snacks, too”.

“Sounds like a deal. See you on Thursday, Y/N”. He gives you a short wave as you exit his car, and even makes sure to watch you get inside safely. As you walk to your apartment, you battle with your renewed thoughts of the frat boy you once detested. After being alone with him for an extended period of time, you hate to admit that you can see the appeal; he’s handsome, charming, and seems to have mellowed out over the years. But should you really be giving Satoru Gojo a chance?

Fuck it, you might.

(Stay tuned for part 2!)

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #jjk

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gentlebeardsbarngrill · 3 months

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01/22/2024 Daily Recap

Hey all! It's been a long day huh? I wanna apologize ahead of time, whatever sickness my kiddo had last week finally got me so I'm not feeling terribly well. I'm gonna do my best to articulate todays events for ya!

===Renew As A Crew====

So the very first thing I want to touch on today is updates from @renewasacrew. As you may have heard, they were going to be changing leadership as the shift in priorities changed from renewing to saving OFMD. That being said, the leadership change happened over this weekend with some hiccups (I don't know what the hiccups were entirely and I'm not going to speculate, if you wanna delve down that twitter hole you can, but having been in it for today I'd recommend against it for your mental health, and we don't want to be drawing a bunch of media attention to it) there's a lot of confusing information, and as we know things can get conflated fast if we don't have all the pieces to the puzzle-- let's not speculate and wait for the to come out with more info.

So what I'm focusing on today is @renewasacrew's message to please give them some time and practice some patience while they get back up and running. This also includes anyone you happen to know on twitter working with them, for example: @TheCozyPirate. Let's give them some grace, they've been steering us well so far.

The good news is, several folks, on tumblr: @iamadequate1, @quirkysubject, @asgardian--angels, On twitter: @havethisonelife @yougotoofast @Lcmwriter100, we have all we need to keep going for a few days while things get ironed out. (If I forgot someone please let me know, sorry I am half awake tonight)-- see the HOW CAN YOU HELP section below.

One thing I will mention-- we are moving so very fast right now. It's only been 13 days since the announcement that OFMD wasn't renewed, and we've accomplished SO MUCH. So when there's a lull, it's going to feel like things are standing still and maybe something is going wrong. Don't fall into despair, that's just how things go with negotiations. Take a break, take a breath, and just keep on Polite Menacing until we hear more from the leadership team.

===How can you help?===

**Go to visit the DAILY RENEWAL TASK LIST there's lots of ideas and ways you can help! Have more? Shoot me a dm! I'm happy to add stuff!**

*Note: To our international fans, I promise I'm working on a write up for you as well I've just been sick today and have been able to finish!*

Something new today-- a lot of you have expressed your desire to help in the @renewasacrew efforts. Well if you did-- and still want to, now you can volunteer! Many thanks to @redshiftsinger for getting this up so quick!

Please visit their survey: Volunteer Intake form and fill out how you may be able to help!

=== Cast and Crew Sightings ===

As if on cue, Chaos dad reached out to everyone on twitter today to express some encouragement!

He also saw we were at 77K and posted his astonishment!

Some folks have been a bit weary about his vagueness today, but as we know, Daddy Jenkins is the king of vague-- and he has to be! If there are contracts in the works, he can't be hinting at things. Don't lose hope!

===Samson Kayo ===

Our beloved Oluwande updated his IG with some pictures and a message. If you have IG I'm sure he'd appreciate some love!

Next up was our favorite Captain, Rhys Darby, promoting a fellow comic @jamesroguecomedy over on IG!

And our pirate queen Ruibo Qian was making posts about saving ofmd and fanart about Zheng! Featuring folks you probably know around tumblr: @mistysblueboxstuff and @tsutsu_ya over on twitter

=REMINDER: Cross Fandom Watch Party! on 01/23/2024 1 PM PT, 4PM ET=

Looks like there's gonna be some cross fandom watch parties on twitter you're welcome to tune in for Jan 23-26 on twitter. They'll be watching good omens in an effort to try and get engagement up with PrimeVideo. It sounds like it'll be similar to the LubeAsACrew but with Good Omens fans! Thank you to @Dandeebakes on Twitter for getting these organised!

Hashtags to use: #PirateOmens #AdoptOurCrew #SaveOFMD, and helps to @PrimeVideo

===Articles===

New article, but take it with a grain of salt, see @TheCozyPirate's message:

Our Flag Means Death's marketing was concerned about the shock of violence in the show

===============================================

Alright lovelies. Here we are again, I told you it'd be quick. Today was very very very busy. Take a break and get some sleep ya? Lean on your crew, we are here to support each other. I'll end with a quote from Tolkien (it being all of us in your crew):

"May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out."

Tonight picture features Taika and his "I love you eyes" at Rhys. Thats me, I'm Taika, I love you all.

PS: Idk why this isnt showing up in my recaps repository but ill figure it out in the morning.

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hwavsg4ch4n · 7 months

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Men I Trust || L.F

Warnings/tags: fem!reader, bestie!Felix, soft dom!Felix, college au, Cheating, mentions of alcohol, penetration (F receiving), cursing, foreplay, public teasing, slight degradation

Note: omg haiii, I haven’t posted in so long wowwww. It feels good to be back tbh. I wanted to give you guys a good length worth of plot and smut as an apology for disappearing for so damn long. I have a lot of Ideas brewing, might end up looking like an unofficial KINKTOBER lol. Maybe next year I’ll do an official one haha.

Description: Felix wants to support you in anyway he can, even if it means bending his morals ever so gently

this is a work of fiction, not real… yeah

It was like a frown was permanently etched onto your features. “Girl…” you looked up from your textbook with tired eyes, being met with your friends' lively ones. You hummed in response, “Where is your boyfriend? Wasn’t he supposed to pick you up like 2 hours ago?” your lips parted as you flipped over your phone, thinking you missed tons of phone calls, secretly you were hoping you did miss calls; it would help the anxious thoughts.

At last, nothing. Not a text, not a voicemail, not a missed call, nothing. You sighed, “maybe he got caught up with something.” while offering your friend a tightlipped smile that she didn’t buy, you tried calling your boyfriend. Your already fake grin faltering as it went straight to voicemail. While being focused on your phone, you didn’t even realize another friend of yours reaching your table. “Hey girls!” You didn’t register his voice, too busy trying to figure out where your boyfriend was; did he turn his location off?

You called again, and again, all while looking down at the lacquered wooden table, scratching at the waxy surface too embarrassed to look up and face your friends. “Anthony!” you chimed as he answered after the second to last ring. “Y/n i’m busy.” You frowned, your heart racing as you heard laughter and music in the background. “Oh, I thought you would be picking me up. Did you forget again? Anthony, you- where even are you?”

Felix raised his brows in question, looking to your mutual friend that sat next to him in disappointment. He knew about the problems between your current boyfriend, he once had to call him for you on his phone; you were too scared and didn’t want to be perceived as pushy or clingy. However, it’s common sense to know a person can only be pushed but so far.

“Y/n please, not this again. I don’t have time for this, you can find a ride home baby. Maybe ask Felix? Lauren?” You scoffed as he sounded annoyed, “Find a fucking ride home? Are you serious? I’ve been waiting in this damn library for you, for more than 2 hours. Now I need to find a ride home?” Your friends watched as tears of frustration welled up into your eyes. “How about I make it up to you later, hm? You know where my spare key is.” You knew what he was suggesting, and somehow it made you even more upset. First he bails, and then tells you to wait up to 3 more hours at his empty apartment just to have the worst sex of your life, as an apology. Nevertheless, you said okay tiredly, mostly to just hang up.

You put your phone down with a heavy sigh, finally looking up to see who joined your table. Even Though it was subtle, a smile spread across your face. “Hey, Lix.” He smiled back in an attempt to hide his worry. “Hey, wanna share what that was about?” he let out a little chuckle. You huffed, “I told Anthony that me and Lauren would be studying so he offered to pick me up at 4pm, obviously he ditched me… again. I should’ve fucking known,” at this point you were ranting, your friends didn’t mind. “He’s never been on time before so why now, right?” You let out a sarcastic chuckle. “Also, can you believe that he tries to make it up to me with sex every fucking time? Sex, that’s not even good? I bet he can’t even spell the word clit!” your friends' mouths were parted at your outburst, Felix chuckling as he held back a blush. You apologized, “I’m sorry it’s just… I’m stressed. He stresses me in every which way.” Your hands rubbed at your neck in an attempt to soothe.

“Wanna go to the club?” Felix suggested. You looked at him straight faced, trying to figure out if you heard him correctly. “The club? really?” Felix shrugged, “why not? You guys study almost every night. That’s enough stress already y/n, you need to let loose, have a few drinks.” He shot a smile at you. You looked at Lauren who was nodding along. “Why not, girl? You have too much on your plate. Maybe you’ll meet someone better tonight. I know I will.” She wiggled her eyebrows playfully. You rolled your eyes, looking at the time. 5:30pm.

You looked down at your textbook and notes. Sighing, you muttered a “Sure.”, giving in quicker than usual. Felix clapped excitedly, ushering the nearby librarian to pay him with a hurried “shush”.

You fit into your cutest outfit. A black mini skirt paired with a black lace lingerie bodysuit snug against your figure. You felt serene as your music hummed in your room. Singing along to your favorite songs as you put on makeup. Dolling yourself up almost felt like meditation. You took in deep breaths every time you applied something to your skin, exhaling when you blended it out. It felt good… you felt good. At least until your phone dinged, and you found yourself hoping it would be Anthony begging and pleading for forgiveness, asking why you’re not at his place. Nonetheless, the dings were just YouTube notifications with the occasional email and period tracker app making it known you’re ovulating.

You were applying your deep brown lip liner when you heard a knock on your cracked door. You hummed as a signal to let the person come in. In the reflection of your vanity mirror you saw Felix with a completely different outfit from earlier.

A black t-shirt, a bit shorter than usual, if he raised his arms you could see one of the reasons why he’s so popular with the opposite sex. His oversized cargo pants fit him like a dream. His fingers clad with his favorite rings.

“You look pretty.” he complimented. You smiled at him through your reflection in gratitude while reaching for your lip gloss. “I bought you that ring didn’t I?” Felix gave you a bright smile, nodding as he plopped himself on your bean bag chair. “You did.” He muttered. He watched you as you applied your lipgloss, deep in thought. “Y/n,” he says, you hum back urging him to continue. “You deserve better, you know that right? I don’t think I need to tell you that but… I figured it wouldn’t hurt to tell you.” You turned to look at him, “Sometimes Felix, I feel like I have a huge stamp on my forehead that reads garbage.” You chuckled. “But I’ll get over it.” You shrug, carefully putting on your favorite gold hoop earrings.

He shook his head, sitting up straighter. “Absolutely not, no. Some men are just … dickheads. It’s not your fault, it never will be I promise. You’re amaz-” you let out a hearty laugh as he rambled at a lower octave, watching you turn around and douse your face in one more layer of settling spray. “Lixie,” he looked at you wide eyed to show he’s all ears. “Save the pep talks for tomorrow and just help me get drunk and have fun tonight, okay?” Felix raised his hands up In defense, nodding. “Deal.”

You smiled, getting up and walking to your closet, “Now help me pick out some heels, please and thank you.”

The music blared as two of your closest friends pulled you straight to the bar.

Lauren urged you all to take shots before the lot of you left, telling you that some of her friends are there, that shes plans on leaving with them. Felix complained and you took two tequila shots, no biggie. But now she’s yelling at the bartender to open her tab and give you each 4 shots of 818t. You didn’t protest, just giggling at Felix’s look of bewilderment as the 4 shots were placed in front of him.

The two of you watched Lauren down her first two. “Ever heard of pace yourself?” Felix yelled over the blaring music. The crowd cheered as the smoke machine turned on, becoming one with the strobe lights.

You turned to Felix after Lauren told him to shut up. “Fuck it!” You giggled, downing all your shots. Felix laughed along, downing his as well.

“Here babe,” Lauren passed you two more, justifying her reasoning by saying “it’s for good luck!” Before she got lost in the crowd of movement to find her friends. You tilted your head back. It hit you, all the shots you took hit you like a truck. Teetering the thin line between tipsy and drunk, you grabbed Felix’s hand. “Dance with me Lix!” You smiled sweetly at him, hoping off your barstool and tugging him behind you.

After finding a comfortable spot within the crowd of moving bodies, your arms made their way around Felix’s neck. You smiled up at him excitedly, he looked down at you smiling, chuckling as he tried to keep you steady. “You drunk yet?” Felix winced as you yelled a bit too loud, forgetting that he’s closer than you think.

“I’m trying to fight off the drunk, but I think I’m falling.” His words were slightly slurred, his freckled cheeks were tinged pink. You laughed, “I can tell, your cheeks are redder than the lights.” Felix shook his head as you tapped his cheeks, using whatever sobriety he had left in his being to keep you from bumping into too many strangers.

“No more talking, I’m dancing!” Before Felix could respond you turned around, your back pressing against his front, in an acceptable proximity Felix didn’t think twice about. But then his brain froze when you took his hands and placed them on your mid section. The cool temperature of his silver rings chilled your skin mildly as you felt it through your lace top. You sighed at the contrasting feeling, the rest of your body felt on fire and the alcohol warms you. Unbeknownst to you, your head fell to his shoulder slowly while your eyes closed in euphoria. You needed this, an escape with your friends. You sighed, relaxing into Felix as the music controlled your movements.

“Oh.” He muttered in surprise. His body heated, the tequila making him more aware than he should be. Felix gulped, licking his lips as he looked down. Taking In your skin, he witnessed you putting on body glitter when you all left the house. He didn’t let it soak in before, but now his vision is slightly blurred and the glitter was extra shiny. The strobe lights, blue and red, were hitting the highest points of your body that was exposed to him. We’re you fucking glowing? His breathing started to labor as you pressed against him harder, moving your hips with his at a pace that had him questioning if this moment was real.

“Y/n…?” He muttered, “Yeah?” You sighed out, sounding almost breathless. “W-what are you doing?” He breathed into your neck, blinking slowly as he observed your closed eyes and sly smirk. “I’m dancing, idiot. What else?” You raised one of your hands and pulled him down by the back of his neck so your lips grazed his ear. “You need to keep up, Lix.” You say playfully.

His breath hitched, his hold on your midsection tightening slightly without his control. He was warm, he felt really warm, almost on the brink of breaking a sweat.

You swayed, grinded, giggled and tightened your grip on the back of his neck ever so slightly as your other hand stroked his forearm. It felt heavily to be touched this way, you didn’t know the last time you had been. Your foggy drunk mind didn’t care that the touches were from one of your closest friends, if anything you felt safer. The only thing you could think about was the smell of his cologne, the music and the heat radiating off him. It felt overwhelming in the best way possible, you hummed while following the rhythm. Feeling his grip on your torso tightening, you bit your bottom lip. Heat pooling to the place that has craved proper attention for months.

Felix cleared his throat, trying to slow down his heartbeat. And then he felt it, you slightly brushing off him only to deliver a deep grind against his center. He huffed, “Y-Y/n.” You shushed him. “Just feel the music, have fun.” His breath labored as he felt you grind against him harder, swiveling your hips, bending your knees slightly, your mostly exposed back brushing against his chest, he was sure your perfume would be embedded in his shirt.

“Shit” he thought, the heat, all the flustered heat that he felt was now migrating to one place. He tried his best to fight it, he really did. But when you smell like this, when you look like this, when you feel like this, Felix couldn’t help it. The tent in his pants formed and took shape against your bottom. Your movements started to focus only in that area; you knew. Of course you knew, you’re not dumb, it was painfully obvious that you didn’t care either.

Felix fought for a steady breath as you moved against him. He cleared his throat now and then trying to remain sane, trying not to fuck up whatever was going on. And then it dawned on him where you two were. “Y/n, we’re uhm, we’re in public.” His words came out gruff and breathless.

You didn’t stop moving as you responded, “What are you suggesting?” You smirked, slow turning around to meet his eyes. When Felix met your eyes in the blaring lights, his member pulsed. “Cat got your tongue Lixie?” His lips parted only to close when your thumb traced his Adam's apple gently. “Jesus.” He whispered, you couldn’t hear.

“Can I kiss you here?” You ask slightly slurred. “Uhm, w-what about Antho-” you frowned, shaking your head. “Don’t fucking worry about him, he’s not as much man as you are.” You knew how to stroke his ego perfectly. Felix nodded, “Only if you’re sure.” You rolled your eyes. “It’s only a silly peck.”

It wasn't just a peck, it was a parted lip, heated, wet kiss planted on his adams apple. Followed by a sensual lick that trailed to the side of his neck. You sucked gently and carefully, all the while planting kisses and small bites. Felix was lost in the feeling of you, sighing, whimpering as he buries his head into the crook of your neck. His grip on your waist tightens as he pulls you closer. “Fuck it.” He whispers, you heard that.

His hand that was adorned with rings grips your jaw with soft urgency, guiding your parted lips to his. He kissed you deeply, taking your breath away as he tilted his head so his tongue could reach every inch of your mouth. You breathed in from your nose as your hands braced themselves on his chest. His lips were soft, so soft as you tasted your cherry lip gloss transferring onto his lips.

It felt as if the blaring music faded away as the two of you made out in between dancing bodies that were too drunk to even notice you. You gasped a proper breath as Felix detached you from him by your jaw. “My place or yours?” You answered with a dazed, “Huh?” He chuckled, his other hands moving down your back to softly pat your ass as an attempt to snap you back to reality. “I said, my place or yours darling?”

The door to Felix’s apartment barely closed before you grabbed Felix by the neck and pulled him in for another kiss that would’ve been a bit too raunchy for a night club. You kicked off your heels as Felix did his shoes, never thinking of breaking the kiss. He grabbed your waist and turned on his dim warm kitchen light. He guided you to lean on his dark marble counter, “How you feeling?” He asked, pulling away slightly, unbuttoning his pants slowly as he waited for your response.

You looked down between your bodies, watching as his fingers pulled down his fly, exposing his black Calvin boxers. He took two fingers to fix your gaze back to his “I asked you a question.” His eyes were almost as dark as his voice while he looked at you. “I want you.” You almost didn’t recognize your own voice. You could remember the last time you sounded so needy, being in a situation that made you this way didn’t cross your mind. If you were sober you’d be entirely embarrassed.

Felix grinned, reaching behind your back to unzip your skirt, pushing it down your legs gently. “That’s not what I asked you.” He reminded. You racked your brain, trying with all your might to think of the question that seemed so simple. Then his lips met your neck and your mind went blank. “Answer me, y/n.” He rumbled. “Can you- can you repeat the question?” You stammered. He smirked against your skin, giving your hip a squeeze. “I asked how you’re feeling, are you tired? You need a break?” You shook your head in disapproval. “No, no I’m okay. Keep going, I’m okay, please.”

Felix nodded, stepping back to look at your lace bodysuit that now acted as lingerie. He tsked, biting his lips while his finger traced the intricate detail on your hip bone. “You’re beautiful, so beautiful.” You looked up at him, flustered. “Any smart man would keep you to himself, if he knew what was good for him that is.” You shook your head in embarrassment and he smirked. “Feel what you did to me, y/n.” He takes your hand in his, kissing the back of it before guiding you into the warmth of his pants. His member hard and pulsating, warm as you hold him.

“Felix...” He grins, “Oh I know, I’m taking too long, hm?”. He takes your hand out of his pants, pushing you deeper into the counter. His lips find yours again. He gropes at your flesh, and bites your bottom lip all before he rips a hole in the lace he adored so much; right where you need him the most. You gasp but he only takes that opportunity to kiss you deeper. His fingers slip past your folds to feel the wetness that accumulated throughout the night. He hums, gathering your moisture to rub your bundle of nerves sweetly. You moan pathetically into his mouth, you needed this more than you thought.

Felix breaks away from your lips only to pull down your top, exposing your hard nipples. He sucks and licks on them with a small nip to keep you from melting into pleasure completely. “Ohh, Lix there, there, god.” You breathed out, guiding his hand to where your clit loves it the most. Your head falls back as your other hand grips his hair. “Not yet,” he mutters against you. His fingers slide down your slit with ease, plunging into your leaking hole with a squelch. You bite your lip and close your eyes, flustered by the noises your body is capable of making due to your close friend's hand.

He pumps his fingers into you, earning a few groans as you look down. “It feels better with you.” You groan, he’s elated, his bulge twitched against your thigh. “Oh baby, I bet. I fucking bet.” He rewards you with the curl of his fingers, stimulating the most delicate part of you. You lurch forward, one hand shooting to your unoccupied mound for support as the other pulls his mouth off your now puffy bud. You press your foreheads together, “I wanna cum for you,” you breathe out, Felix parts his lips, fingers not halting. “I want you to feel how hard I can clench around you, think about my pussy milking you that way, want you to feel it Lixie.” You never spoke like this, the words flowed from your dirty lips like a river, Felix grew close to overwhelmed.

“Fuck, do you hear yourself baby? Such a fucking slut for me aren’t you?” You nodded quickly, your brows furrowing as you felt the knot you longed for tangle in your tummy. “Close lix close please, I need it.” He pecked your nose, quickly switching to stimulating your clit right where you placed him last. Your head fell back again, letting out a groan as Felix attached his swollen lips to your neck. “Fucking creaming on my fingers baby,” you let out hushed and quick yes’s. He hummed while grinning, “Cum, y/n. Give it to me.” And you did. You went silent as your mouth gapped, your chest heaving and your knees buckled as he rode you threw it. Pressing kisses to your chest and soothing the purple bruises he littered across your neck.

You fought to catch your breath as Felix ripped the hole in your lace wider, “Sorry darling, I’m not done, if that’s okay with you.” Instead of verbal confirmation, you turned around on shaky legs and leaned forward, nipples pressing against the cold marble. You propped one leg on his barstool and arched your back, exposing your sopping heat and puffy clit.

You whined, wiggling your bottom, signaling you wanted more from him. Felix was astonished, almost prideful, he didn’t even bother pulling his pants down. He pulled his member out, hissing as his tip came in contact with your heat. Then it was like a lightbulb came on, “I’ll go get a condom.” You huffed in protest, “Raw, fuck me raw. I’m on the pill lix, I’m clean. I always made him use a condom. Raw please.” You tripped over your words, grinding on his length in an attempt to push him in yourself. His cock jumped at your pleas, “You want me that bad?” You nodded in response, flinching as his tip brushed your clit.

Felix groaned, pushing himself in. Your mouth gaped, your eyes shutting in untter bliss; you were full to your heart’s content. “Perfect.” You moaned, pushing yourself back on his dick. He let you do your thing for a while, watching as your past orgasm made itself known on his shaft. A white ring coating him as your walls squeezed him with warmth.

“You feel so good,” he growls. He takes your hips, meeting you in the middle as he thrusts into you. You cried out his name, your palms flat on his table when you felt him spread your ass cheeks apart, pushing into you with fast deep thrusts. All you could let out was huffs of air and strangled profanities as he hit places you thought were myths.

“Taking me so well, y/n. So fucking good.” He muttered, placing his hand at the base of your back for more leverage. “You’re creaming me darling, you hear that?” The sloshing sound of your cunt was almost as loud as the slap Felix delivered to your ass.

His hand rubbed at your puffy clit, you had no choice but to tear up. “Oh my god.” You sobbed. “I need you to cum baby, I need you to cum so I can hm? Be nice to your Lixie.” You bit your lip, the intensity of your nearing climax being felt in the tip of your fingers as your thighs shook. “Fuck!” You groaned loudly, hearing the sound of your pussy gushing and juice’s hitting the floor was the least of your worries as you saw stars. You swore at that moment you reached nirvana.

Your body had a mind of its own as you pulled your cunt off his member and got down on your knees before him. “Record me, record how you cum on me.” You muttered while looking up at your closest friend. Felix had to act quick, the sight of your mascara running and tear stained cheeks, your eyes low and tongue out waiting to take whatever he would give was now embedded in his mind as a core memory.

He reached for his phone in his back pocket, swiping to his camera and hitting record with flash as he stroked himself quickly. You looked filthy, your pussy was dripping, your body was glistening and your hair was messy. You didn’t seem to care as your manicured nails that your sorry excuse of a boyfriend pity paid for, excitedly gripped Felix’s cargo clad thighs in anticipation.

“Shit shit.” He came, on your tits, on your nose and of course on your tongue. He groaned as you suckled on his twitching tip, kissing and licking. Felix looked at you through his camera, his free hand caressing your face, wiping your tears and hair away. Thumb lingered down to your soft swollen lips, pushing passed as you sucked gently. You smiled up at him just as he stopped recording.

“Thank you Lixie.” You whispered, fucked out and hazy. He smiled sweetly at you, “No baby, thank you.” He leaned down and kissed your forehead. “Bath time y/n. Come on.” He pulled you up gently.

Your hands drew circles on his chest as he stroked your naked back.

“Y/n?” You hummed in response, breathing in his body wash.

“What should I do with that video?” You looked up at Felix, with a small smile. “Send it to him and brag for the both of us, only if you want to.” You laid back down sighing in content. Felix played with your hair and chuckled. He knew you were groggy and not confident in your words. He settled for a simple screenshot, one where anyone could barely tell it was you. His ring clad thumb in your mouth as you sucked.

The picture is attached with a short but sweet message.

“Sorry bro.”

#skz smut #skz imagines #skz x reader #lee felix #felix x reader #felix smut

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chronically-ghosted · 9 months

Text

the only thing we have to fuck is fear itself

rating: 18+

pairing: max phillips x f!reader

word count: 5309

summary: You get drunk at a happy hour and tell Max to his face you don’t find him scary at all. He takes that personally.

warnings/tags: drinking, like two seconds of scary vibes, smut, (secret) established relationship, work hard, play hard, have secret sex with your coworker even harder

a/n: I’m so sorry to FDR for butchering his quote for the sake of a title, but i like to think that horny bastard would have loved my smut.

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Despite working at a place that was quite literally soul-sucking, your coworkers could throw one hell of a happy-hour.

There wasn’t a bartender in a ten mile radius from the office who didn’t know you all by name, didn’t shout a greeting over the tightly-packed house the instant you walked in. Rarely was it just a single crew member at the bars – you often got accused of moving in a pack like a five-headed hydra that could drink double its own weight in liquor, beer, and frosés – and being only two-fifths human, the Monster Squad was an alcoholic force to be reckoned with.

Maybe because you actively promoted unity amongst the species, like poster children for positive and “non-toxic human-demon relationships” HR kept encouraging in their Monday-Funday email blasts, but your little group was something of a legend in the area. You thought any notoriety was more likely due more to your faces plastered all over the bars’ trivia night winner boards, but in the office, people tended to stare. Trish, a siren from Santa Barbara, loved the attention, said it was good for her skin – gave her a “dewy” look. Nita, the only other human in your group besides you, disagreed with Ken (a quarter leprechaun on his mother’s side) when Ken claimed the whispering came from the sheer volume of nonsense that started around 4PM in the office on Fridays and continued until you all left the office. Ken was of the belief that the notoriety was actually infamy – to which he was promptly booed and had to buy the next round.

And yet, to yourself, to the quiet conversations you had in the bathroom mirror after two long island ice teas and whatever was in what the centaur bartender at Lucky’s called an “Ass Whooping”, you suspected there might be another reason the Monster Squad even had a name at all. Within your own fields, each of you were respectable – Ken and Trish were both heads of marketing and Nita oversaw a considerable team of engineers, with you of course a department leader over in legal – one member of your group was, let’s say, more well-known.

Well-known because he was the flashiest, the loudest, and certainly the most demonic of you all: Max Phillips, VP of sales, money-maker extraordinaire, and a fan-favorite amongst your Overlords, the rest of the sales team, and anyone with working and interested sex organs in the near vicinity.

To your complete and utter annoyance.

You don’t quite remember how you all came together, who brought who into the group, and when it was unanimously decided that you’d stop snatching up office workers like limes at $5 margarita night after Trish, but it was Max who kept you together, who set up the group chat (somehow mysteriously gathering all of your phone numbers after a very late night), who bullied anyone who responded to his weekly “winner winner liquid dinner” texts every Friday morning with a tepid maybe into coming out that night. He already seemed to know half of the bartenders in the city, all of whom were happy to send over a free round of tequila shots as a “thank you to Max’s friends”. While you’d never look a gift vampire in the mouth, you were suspicious of his influence. Was that vampire hypnosis real? Did he have a pack of lesser, baby vamps to send out to tenderize the hunting grounds?

One thing’s for sure, he definitely didn’t scare them into it.

“Has Halloween, like, changed for anyone else?” Nita grouched over her second Sangria Spritzer two hours into another fantabulous happy hour at Heel Clicks. The four of you were huddled into your comically small booth up on the landing near the back bar – of course there were other seats available but this had the best view, the closest access to your favorite bartender, and at some point, the shoulder-to-shoulder proximity served as a way to counteract the tipsy swaying.

Trish leaned around Ken, her beautiful blue eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno,” Nita shrugged hopelessly. “It used to be one of my favorite holidays when I was a kid. I loved the candy, the costumes – all of it. But I really liked being scared the most.”

Ken sorted into his old-fashioned. “Well, if you’re still scared of things you were as a kid, Nit, I think you’ve got a bigger problem than seasonal preference.”

She elbows him and he knocks into Trish.

“Not like that . . . but, like, monster movies aren’t really scary anymore? I mean, I used to watch Ginger Snaps religiously around Halloween, but, uh, now that I know an actual werewolf and he’s the nicest little old man in accounting, I dunno . . . it’s just not the same.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble on monsters,” Ken shrugged. “But I personally cannot relate. As a member of the Free Folk, my people have always been welcomed, seen as bringers of good will towards man.”

“You know there’s eight movies where a leprechaun murders literally dozens of teenagers, right?” You turned to Ken over Nita, your entire right buttcheek hanging off the edge of the booth.

“Oh, yeah, baby Jennifer Aniston,” Trish mused, thinking. “If that’s what your uncle looks like, Ken, then I posit Halloween is still fucking creepy.”

“Halloween is definitely creepy and it sucks.” Your ringleader has returned with electric-green jello shots. Max Phillips carried a tray with one hand, his immaculate blue jacket gone to display firm forearms underneath his white, rolled-back sleeves. “Bunch up, kiddies, Daddy’s back with treats.”

Half the group groaned, the other squealed in delight.

Max hip-bumped you, his ravenous cologne immediately making you think unwise thoughts, as he pushed his way onto the bench absolutely not made for this many people. He looked back at you as he passed out the drinks.

“Now why are we all in agreement that Halloween is a lame holiday?”

“Nita claims that because she personally knows a werewolf – Ned, right? – she’s not scared of monster movies anymore.”

Max scoffed. “Well, there’s your problem right there. Werewolves were never scary to begin with.”

“What monster movies have you been watching?” Nita gaped at him. “Maybe it’s bad representation, but all the movie werewolves can tear you to shreds!”

Ken nodded solemnly. “This is why affirmative action is so important.”

Trish smacked him over the back of the head.

“So, what?” Max continued, crunching up the jello in its plastic cup. “Now that you know me, a vampire, you think all Dracula movies give blood-suckers a bad rap?”

“No, being a human-sized mosquito with too much hair gel is doing that all on its own.” You smirked, dead-eyed, at him. Behind you, Ken and Trish snorted so hard they almost spilled their drinks.

Max narrowed his eyes at you, in a look he only gave you when you wouldn’t let him ease around legal loopholes “for the good of the business”. Only Nita seemed to be oblivious.

“That’s a good point, Max.” She thoughtfully stirred her jello with her pinky, unsticking it from the sides of her cup. “I mean, I guess I never watched that many vampire movies to begin with.”

Max broke his heated staring contest with you to look around at Nita, elbow pressing up into your chest as he leaned forward on the table. “I can promise you, doll face, vampires have been and always will be more terrifying and lethal than werewolves.”

“Not the argument I think you want to make, mate,” Ken murmured as you shifted yourself to face Max entirely.

“Oh, yeah? Enlighten us all –,”

“Nope,” Trish called down the row, “we’re taking this shot before you two get into it again.”

“To Ned!” Ken yelled.

“To Ned!”

Plastic crunched, tongues slurped, as jello ungracefully slipped into every open mouth down the bench. You licked your lip, tip of your tongue green. Max watched the movement out of the corner of his eye.

“So, enlighten us, Max, why should we be so afraid of you?”

Max grinned out the side of his mouth. “One, I’ve seen more bite out of a pomeranian than one of those Tribbles. And two, whatever-wolves can only get it up once a month. I’m all monster, all the time, baby.”

At this, everyone groaned.

“Dollar to the Dick Jar!” Trish smacked her hand on the table.

“Here, here!”

Max pouted as he took a dollar out of his wallet and slammed it into the center of the table, payment towards tips or the bill or whoever suffered the most due to The Dick.

“Face it, buzz,” you shrugged as he put his wallet away. “You’re just not scary any more, if you ever were.”

“Is that right?”

Fuck, you were in a lot of trouble. Beneath the table, his thigh soaked yours in heat.

“That’s right.”

“You know what is really scary?” Ken muttered, digging around in his crushed up for the last remnants of jello. “Kelpies.”

“Ah – yes! They’ve got sloppy fangs covered in algae!”

“Hey – that’s my cousin you’re talking about!”

Heel Clicks was hands down one of your favorite bars in the area. Devoted to the local music scene in the area, the vibe was a mix of old 70s rock bands, modern steel, and whatever justified lots of mounted horns and hairy cow-skin stools. The drinks were great, seasonal too, and there was always live music on the patio out back. In a twist that you found particularly cool, the old rum-runners tunnels had been converted to comfortably spacious bathrooms in the basement. Behind the solid oak door, the noises from the above bar are nearly entirely muffled, making the slow descent to the bathroom something of an out-of-body experience when you’ve had a few and the sudden silence is almost an echo.

Plus, these fucking stairs are a death trap.

You embarrassingly clutched at the railing, the wooden stairs at far too sharp an angle even if you were sober as a judge, much less at a Monster Squad happy hour.

Stupid Max and his stupid drinks and his –

What was that?

You stand up right on the third to last step, listening.

In the half darkness in front of you, there are three paths available. To the left, employee storage, the lights above the door flickering, the sign reading “do not enter” pulsating in and out of visibility. To your right, another door, maybe an exit. Always unmarked and always locked every time your drunken curiosity got the better of you.

And across from the stairs were the bathrooms, left women, right for men.

God, what year is it? Shouldn’t it all just be gender-neutral? You think to yourself, a tad bit more aggressive than you’d usually oppose the gender binary – primarily to wash out the rising concern at the back of your neck.

You are alone down here. It’s obvious. It’s not like there’s that many places for some dastardly villain to hide. Four shut doors and three hallways. Unless some maniac was curled up under the stairs, you are the only person in the basement.

At least, the only person you can see.

You don’t realize how sweaty your hands are until you try to continue your way down the stairs. You take a step and nearly slip, the eyes you know are on you somehow laughing.

One blinking light. No where for anything to hide, so why are you so nervous? You are an adult woman, for god’s sakes. You make it to the floor, the most likely candidate for your demise behind you and –

The stairs creaked.

The empty stairs that you just walked down creaked and you nearly leap across the hallway to put space between you. Heart in your throat, you make the monumentally stupid decision and call out, “hello? Is anyone there?”

As if the serial killer was just going to announce himself, give up the whole element of surprise.

Blinking through the bleary haze of too many drinks, you take out your phone and flip on the light. A white beam chases back the encroaching darkness, a frantic worried ghost peering through the gloom. And yet, like you consciously know, there’s nothing there. But the darkness feels heavier, the eerie distant noise from the bar above so quiet and removed the sound is more of a memory – the idea of what comfort and community should sound like. But it’s not. It’s too far gone – if anything were to happen, it’d be hours before they found you. If they did at all.

“Oh my god,” you scold yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. “Get a fucking grip and go pee and then go back up those fucking stairs and –,”

Okay, that was definitely breathing.

Breathing, right behind you. Ragged, hungry, disembodied breathing, in your ear and your heart ricochets into your chest. Your own breath turns short, choppy, panic swelling into your ears, over your fingers. You think you might drop your phone, your fingers are so numb from fear, so you clutch tighter, the trembling throwing white light across the paneled wood in a craze.

Be rational, this is crazy, there is nothing down here!

The stairs snarl again and you squeak, all but bolting for the women’s bathroom, desperate to put at least some space between you and those fucking stairs, put some boundaries between –

The door is locked. When the fuck is this door ever locked?

Panic recedes to overwhelming rage because fuck, fuck, fuck, now you’re trapped in here – you can’t go back to the stairs – you rattle the handle, shaking the door against its lock –

“Fucking let me in!”

The light above the exit door goes out. And then the other. You throw all of your weight against the bathroom door. You claw at the handle, begging it to give way.

Fuck, fuck, fuck – you can hear the darkness breathing –

No, speaking – it’s saying something, chanting, mocking, calling out – calling out your name –

The door suddenly unlocks and you stumble forward – into something solid –

Its hands grab you and like a fucking fool, you played right into its trap.

It turns you, throws you up against the tile wall, its claws around your shoulders, cold tile against your cheek and you whimper. Whimper when you feel the soft pin-prick of fangs against the back of your neck – fuck, this is how it ends?? – and –

“Got you.”

That voice.

That condescending, snide, bratty, little –

You elbow the solid body behind you and Max lets out a puff of air, staggering back. You whip around, nearly snarling in his smirking, beautiful face. The bathroom is dark, black tiled walls and floors with a faux-wooden sink and dim lights across the top of the mirror. In the flushed orange light, his eyelashes encourage thick shadows under his eyes and in the collar of his throat. If it wasn’t for that insufferable smile, he’d look painted from thin brush strokes and heavy scarlet paint.

Caravaggio, eat your heart out.

“Max, what the fuck was that?”

He rolls his eyes, rubbing the spot on his chest where you hit him, at the top of his ribcage. “Oh, c’mon, it was just some fun. Saw you sneak off after you got Nita’s drink and thought I’d mess with you just a bit.”

You sigh, willing your heart to slow down, throwing your gaze to the ceiling and dropping your head against the tile.

“God, you asshole, I thought I was gonna die.” You swallow and move your hair out of your face. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I what?”

“You scared –,”

That smile, the crack of fangs across his mouth, widens, the bottom of his lip rolling back over the cut of his teeth, those brown eyes melting into a warm, obscene black, as he meets you hip first against the wall.

His hands climb over your waist, as though daring you to hit him again, and your thigh muscles tighten. Your hands instinctively trace the exposed skin left by his opened collar at the dip of his throat when he comes closer, chest pressing up against yours, nose against your temple.

Fuck, it shouldn’t be this easy for him. You sigh through your nose, eyes rolling shut, when he nips at your cheek.

“I think you were supposed to be mad at me.”

“I am,” you groan. “I’m livid. I’m enraged. I’m –,”

His thumb brushes your ribs – not tickling, not entirely touching, but just reminding. Reminding of the force behind his touch, behind his teeth.

“Baby girl,” he chuckles softly, the sound running down your neck like rain, “you’re melting in my arms.”

“This doesn’t mean I’m scared of you.” You focus on the softness of his hair between your fingers, the heat of the back of his neck beneath the pads of your fingertips – resolutely ignoring the radiating scent of his cologne coming from up under his collar. More than once had he come across you in his apartment bathroom, sniffing that bottle like some dopey perv looking for a quick fix. Of course, instead of admonishing you, he bent you over his sink and fucked the daylights out of you, his wrists singing with the smell of that cologne. Now he wore it to work wherever he wanted something from you, particularly to overlook some pesky lines of legalise.

In the hallowed darkness of the bar’s bathroom, he drops a single kiss just below your jaw, inches beneath your ear. He grumbles when your pulse there quickens, and again his fangs find a curve of skin to press against – a reminder.

Always reminding, always lurking, a threat without a promise.

And he knows exactly what that does to you.

You release a full body shudder when his hands drop lower, guiding you back against the wall, fingers rounding around your thighs. Like interlocking pieces, your bodies slide together, your arms curling around his neck, the heat of his chest branding yours as it forces you against the wall. You’re breathing all wrong again, but for different reasons this time. You catch a flash of the ink-well darkness of his eyes when he nuzzles out of your neck to admire the mess he has made of your skirt.

“Can I fuck you in this or is this thing too tight?” He asks, like he specifically didn’t get on his hands and knees and beg you to wear that gray pencil skirt only twelve hours earlier.

You lean up, snagging his bottom lip between your teeth, kissing him roughly and showing him he’s not the only one with a little bite. He groans softly, one hand curling into your hair at the base of your skull, and he licks you, from the front of your lips up to the valley of your mouth. He tastes like the sweetness of his whiskey n’ coke, his tongue rubbing the flexing muscle of yours, the sharpness of your molars. You could spend hours just sucking on his plush mouth.

Maybe he did scare you. Maybe he should have scared you more, the threat of anyone discovering your relationship a real danger to both of your careers. Maybe it should have scared you, how little you cared about any of that when he palmed your breast over your shirt.

You inhaled over his mouth, popping off his lips with a moan, his hand cupping you roughly as he dove in to suck marks on your neck. Every moment that passes, you feel your skin ratcheting up with heat, blood almost hot. He thumbs your perk nipple through your shirt and you arch your chest, his massive palm nearly cupping your ribs to your spine.

“Max, either you figure out how to fuck me in this skirt or you owe me a new one.”

“You want me to rip it off you?” He slurs, eyelids heavy, his thigh slides in between your knees, the fabric preventing him from going higher, to the place where you both need him. You groan in frustration and his hands squeeze your hips at the sound. “Tell me fast, baby, because I can’t–,”

“For the love of – just fucking lift it up–,” His hands fumble over yours as your fingers curl under the hem, his own want making that brilliant mind for numbers almost stupid. His warm fingers overwhelm your own as they push your skirt up your waist, and then dig around the line of your pantyhose.

“Jesus Christ, are you trying to Fort Knox me out of your pussy? Why are there so many layers?”

You hiss at him as you slide out of your heels and shove your nylons to the ground, hopping on one leg to take them off your feet. “It’s like you’ve never undressed me before.”

Freed of the chaos of your underthings, Max’s hands rush to his belt, the clinking of the metal sending shivers down your back and straight up your cunt. He doesn’t notice because he’s obsessively watching your thighs. “I’ve never undressed you with our coworkers a floor above us and probably becoming increasingly suspicious about where the fuck we are–,”

You take him by the back of the neck, hand clenching around the starch white of his shoulder. He comes to you, zipper digging into your hip bone as he pulls you up off your feet. For once that chatty mouth is quiet, open and wet with desire as he takes in your flushed face, the blood pumping under your tits. Max is nothing if not almost supernaturally consumed by the look, feel, texture, and taste of your tits.

The look on his face is one of those reasons you tend to throw caution to the wind, why your heart almost feels too big for your chest, whenever he’s around.

He hooks an arm around your low back, tilting your hips forward. You feel the heat of his cock somewhere below you and it takes all of your strength not to grind down.

“Max –,” he’s not even inside of you and you’re already begging. You bite down on his ear to stifle whatever was rising up your throat.

“Hang on, baby, I gotta make sure you . . .”

Using your shoulders as counterbalance, he holds himself up against the wet warmth of your cunt, breath stuttering as he rubs the head of his cock against your slick folds. That bratty aloofness is gone; he wants to sink so, so deep into you.

“Fuck, baby, I didn’t even get you ready – but you’re already so wet –,”

You don’t resist grinding down now and he knocks his shoulders forward, needing movement, but fighting against the urge to buck up into you, gasping from the feeling of your cunt.

“Please, Max, just –,”

“Yeah, I know, baby, okay, just, I gotta . . .”

He angles himself and you arch your back, unable to watch with the mess of your skirt around your waist, but he finds it, finds your opening, the place he loves to mark, and without any warning, thrusts his length up into you.

The stretch, the surprise, the ear-ringing split between being empty and then stuffed so full – you can’t help but moan so loudly, you sing to the ceiling. For a moment, your bodies hum with the stillness, the blood in your cunt pulsating around him, you claw at his broad shoulders, need him closer, needing that smell of him that haunts your empty bed as far inside of you as his cock is. His hips stutter and he presses one hand against the tile by your ribs, teeth clenched against the sensation.

“When I fuck you, every time feels like the first time. Every goddamn time.”

It’s not particularly the confession it could be, but you shake your head, clearing it of anything stupid like feelings for Max Phillips, your chin brushing his jaw, his nose against your ear.

“Then do it,” you whine. “Just fuck me, Max.”

With a groan that could be mistaken for a snarl, he lifts you both up right, pushing your hips down and spreading yourself over him. You lock your ankles around his back a second before he pulls out halfway, then to jerk back in with such force and precision your eyes roll to the back of your head. He sets a pace that has pleasure weaving a tight drum just under your stomach. Each sweaty thrust fires sparks up your spine. He really is so fucking good at this.

This is the release you need, you both need. Sure, it’s an after-effect of having a high-powered job, but it’s also more than that. Max fucking you is unfortunately very often the highlight of your day. He knows what you need, how you need it – how hard to drive his cock into you, it makes you tongue-tied and dizzy. The fast pump of his cock, how it feels to split you apart over and over again, the back zipper of your skirt digging into your back – it’s too fucking good.

“Don’t know where you get off giving me orders,” he grunts, the pounding of his hips into yours rapidly shoving you up your ascension. The slapping, wet noise in the empty room is obscene. “I’m a fucking VP, little girl, and I–,”

You tense your muscles around his cock and he fumbles, his knees buckling momentarily.

“Do not fucking bring up the org chart right now,” you hiss, your own edge yanked away when he stills. “I’m almost there–,”

Quicker than he’s been all night, Max lunges forward, mouth open and teeth bare. He bites your neck and then he bites you.

Fangs puncture your skin, not deep, but enough that your body is thrown into a messy coil of nerves and adrenaline. It knows you could die like this, even if you’ve only ever called the vampire a mosquito to his face, and triggering a self-preservation instinct, your body trembles from the sudden blast of sensation.

Your pupils dilate further than they were, your skin becomes overly aware of every drop of sweat, every flutter of hair, every rub of flesh – and your fucking nerve-endings feel like static, as if brushed by lightning.

Pleasure so-white hot it almost burns roars up your spine, slick coating his cock inside you, and you cry out. Wail in his ear. Begging him to make it better. To give you your release. The feel of his cock pounding up inside your now-overly ripe cunt brings tears to your eyes.

“Oh, fuck – fuck, fuck, fuck – Max, p-please –,”

“Can you handle it if I touch you?”

You shake your head. “Yes, yes, please, touch me.”

“You can’t keep screaming like that,” he scolds you breathlessly, the punch of his hips bouncing you against his cheek. For all his vampire stamina, the flush of exertion across his cheeks is truly staggering and a triumph for your ego. Flecks of blood dot his mouth. “Someone’s going to come looking.”

“I don’t care,” you groan, angling your hips to take more of him. His hand not on your back cups under your knee, tugging it higher up his torso. His pace is relentless, overwhelming – with his weight on top of you, and his cock up under you, inside you, you’re consumed by Max Phillips. “Whatever you do, d-don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

“You scared I’m gonna?”

“Yes,” you whine. You can feel your heart pounding out its shape into your ribs.

“Good girl. And good girls get to fucking come.”

Balancing your increasingly limp body, he holds you up right, his hand snaking beneath your skirt, between the sweat of your thighs and his torso, and –

He thumbs that buzzing bundle of nerves, “come for me, baby”, and you do. You come screaming, the tension snapping, vision sparkling with stars, and you are shoved over the edge. You don’t know you’re wailing his name until he comes too, all concern for getting caught seemingly gone as he begs you to continue as he fills you up with his pearly, gooey cum:

“That’s right, say my name. Say my fucking name, sweetheart.”

His hips thrust weakly, some instinct choking him until he makes sure every drop of him stays in you. You’re going to be dripping for hours.

His skin is fire-hot beneath his starched white shirt. You’ll be thinking about that for days afterward when you see him in the hallways of the office.

This is what scares you the most. When you realize it's over and neither one of you want it to be.

Shaking from exertion, Max slowly sets you down, unwinding your legs from his waist, your ankles trembling against the cold tile. You couldn’t imagine putting your nylons back on, the thought of that pressure against the curve of your lower stomach while you are so full of his cum practically unbearable.

He lifts his head from your neck, eyes intentionally avoiding you as he inspects where he bit you, breath coming in ragged, long gasps. Sweat darkens the hair at his temple and that post-fuck blush is staggeringly gorgeous on him. He pricks his thumb on the sharp edge of his fangs and with a scarlet bead balanced on his thumb, he smears his blood against the puncture wounds, like someone would wipe dirt away from a loved one’s skin.

It doesn’t really hurt, but the effects leave your neck tingling. You’d never say this out loud, but you fucking loved when he did that.

He steps away without looking at you, giving you time to adjust your skirt, your hair in the mirror. You help him straighten his collar because it’s not like he can use the mirror to check himself.

He grins, the flush fading far too rapidly from his cheeks.

“What are you going to tell them?” You nod to the stairs on the other side of the wall. “This can’t look good for us.”

“You got attacked by a werewolf on the way to the bathroom. I saved you.”

“Thought you said werewolves weren’t scary.”

He shakes his head, smirking, then presses a kiss to your temple. “Just said I was the bigger monster between the two of us.”

“My hero.” You turn your head until his lips drink in yours.

It is dangerous, your feelings for him.

He taps you on the butt, pulling away. The lines around his eyes do an excellent job of masking the hurt in the brownness of his eyes.

“Gimme five, then you come up. Can’t have you looking so completely debauched.”

He kisses you again, betraying whatever amounted to “cool and collected” he attempted for, and without another word, he slides out the door.

His smell lingers in the air long after he does. The throbbing of your cunt also serves as a fantastically bitter reminder.

You go back to the mirror because yes, you could not have been more obvious if you were wearing a sign that said, “hi, yes, I did just get my back blown out.” You try to fold your hair around your ears at least a dozen times before pulling it back in what you hope to be a casual pony-tail. You toss your nylons into the trash can, pleading that the “oh, I tore them in the bathroom” excuse might hold an ounce of water.

You think about what’s waiting for you a floor up and your stomach clenches.

Fucking Max could upset the dynamics of your little group, your little Monster Squad. Whatever the stupid office bylines were, your happy-hour social group is one of the bright spots in your life, especially while working at a place run by those bastard Overlords.

And Max knew that. He didn’t want to risk your long-term happiness for his short-term.

Max didn’t scare you because he was a monster.

He scared you precisely because he wasn’t.

You open the bathroom door and return to the world.

#max phillips #max phillips x reader #max phillips x you #max phillips fanfiction #max phillips x f!reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #bloodsucking bastards #max phillips smut #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal characters

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spacelazarwolf · 6 months

Note

if you want to answer (and i totally understand if you dont), who do you think bombed the hospital in gaza? ive seen a lot of different people talking about it and blaming different people & organizations and you seem like you know a lot aboit i/p

IMPORTANT TO NOTE: i am not a news source. i am some guy with access to the internet. please follow the links in this post, as well as doing your own research. please do not use social media posts exclusively as your source of news, and please continuously read and compare several different accredited news sources. keep on top of new sources and evidence that are being put out to ensure that you have the most up-to-date information.

it's not really about who i think did it. i feel like that centers me in a thing that is very much not about me. but i'll give it my best shot.

we still do not have confirmation of how many were killed or who is at fault for the bombing. there are a lot of numbers and opinions floating around online, but as of 4pm on october 19th there has not been a consensus on either of these things from any accredited organizations.

that being said, here are the statements that have been put out as of the time i'm responding to this:

statements about death toll:

the gaza health ministry estimates between 200 and 471 dead

the director of al-shifa hospital where people were brought from al-ahli estimates 250 dead

an assessment from the us director of national intelligence estimates between 100 and 300

an analyst with the center for naval analysis, after viewing photos and video, said the death toll was closer to 50

statements about fault:

(taking these directly from the article)

J Andres Gannon, an assistant professor at Vanderbilt University, in the US, says the ground explosions appeared to be small, meaning that the heat generated from the impact may have been caused by leftover rocket fuel rather than an explosion from a warhead. Justin Bronk, senior research fellow at the UK-based Royal United Services Institute, agrees. While it is difficult to be sure at such an early stage, he says, the evidence looks like the explosion was caused by a failed rocket section hitting the car park and causing a fuel and propellant fire. Mr Gannon says it is not possible to determine whether the projectile struck its intended target from the footage he has seen. He adds that the flashes in the sky likely indicate the projectile was a rocket with an engine that overheated and stopped working. Valeria Scuto, lead Middle East analyst at Sibylline, a risk assessment company, notes that Israel has the capacity to carry out other forms of air strike by drone, where they might use Hellfire missiles. These missiles generate a significant amount of heat but would not necessarily leave a large crater. But she says uncorroborated footage shows a pattern of fires at the hospital site that was not consistent with this explanation.

Visual evidence from the blast site The BBC was able to match details of buildings and the layout of the Al-Ahli hospital site with publicly available satellite imagery, to establish the hospital was the scene of the blast. Based on available evidence, it appears the explosion happened in a courtyard which is part of the hospital site. Images of the ground after the blast do not show significant damage to surrounding hospital buildings. What the images do show are scorch marks and burnt-out cars.

where the explosive came from

so far, israel, hamas, and palestinian islamic jihad have all denied responsibility

channel 4 news reported that palestinian islamic jihad had uncovered a warhead but they have not produced it

in a since-deleted tweet, hananya naftali, a social media advisor for netanyahu, claimed that it was an israeli airstrike that hit the hospital. he followed up by stating that he had shared incorrect information based on a reuters headline that refered to an israeli airstrike

tentative conclusion based on sources:

what i gather from what i've read is that the blast was likely caused by a misfired rocket originating somewhere in gaza, and the blast was exacerbated by the fuel in the rocket. BUT, as i stated before, new information is always being put out. there could be evidence released tomorrow that it was an israeli air strike. there has been no conclusive evidence yet.

and perhaps the most important section:

what you can actually do to help

if you are in the us, call your representatives and urge them to support the resolution for a ceasefire

check out this list of verified aid groups (if there is not a ceasefire as soon as possible, it won't matter what aid is sent to them and if they cannot get the supplies into gaza, so refer back to the first bulletpoint)

send a donation to your local synagogue(s) and mosque(s) to help them offset the rising costs of security

take a moment to be a human. don't think about the numbers. don't think about the politics. think about the human beings who lost their lives, and the people who are mourning them. the mothers who will never see their children again, the children who will grow up without parents. what did they have for breakfast? what was their favorite song? when was their birthday? were they afraid? were they in pain? what can we do to ensure this does not happen again?

#ask avishai #i/p

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ktwritesstuff · 1 year

Text

The Babysitter (a Last of Us fanfic) pt. 1

Title: The Babysitter Fandom: The Last of Us Rating: PG (Later chapters will be explicit) Characters & Pairings: Joel Miller x Reader Word Count: ~2,000 Summary: Sarah's babysitter has a thing for Joel. Lovingly beta-read by @bs-fangirl, The Last of Us's number one fangirlie. <3

Austin 2002

“Hey, Sweetpea!”

You looked up at the sound of your childhood nickname, not sure right away who was calling for you. In a small town familiarity was de rigueur. You went to school with people referred to exclusively as Cooter, Biggie, and Ears, so it could have been worse.

You were waiting for the bus just outside the school cafeteria when your brother, Paul, came over in his football uniform. He almost never talked to you at school, so you figured he wanted something. He was old for his grade and had made the varsity team as a sophomore; your parents were over-the-moon. In your opinion, it had gone to his head.

“You have a dollar? I want to get a gatorade before practice.”

“Here,” you dug through your purse and fished out your last dollar, rolling your eyes as he sprinted off toward the vending machines without so much as a thank you.

“We’re going to the mall when Andy gets out of practice, you wanna come?” Your best friend, Cheryl, asked.

“I can’t,” you said. “I’m babysitting.”

“Nah,” your friend Mercedes teased. “She’s got a hot date with Papi Joel.”

“Oh my God,” Cheryl laughed. “That’s so messed up, stop it.”

“Yeah, that’s super weird,” you laughed along, hoping they wouldn’t notice the blush rising in your cheeks.

The truth was, you had long-harbored a crush on your handsome neighbor down the block: rugged good looks and soulful brown eyes, hardworking, good with his hands, a loving father, the whole package left you feeling weak in the knees. But you would never say so, not even to your best friend. As nice as it was to daydream about, you knew it could never happen and admitting it would just make you look desperate and pathetic.

“Seriously though,” Mercedes insisted. “If you had to pick a dad, he’s primo DILF material.”

“JJ’s dad is kinda hot,” Tina said, stubbing out her joint on the sidewalk ramp.

“JJ’s dad isn’t hot,” Mercedes corrected. “He just lets us party in his barn–besides, clearly Mr. Miller has ulterior motives. What 12 year old still needs a babysitter?”

It was true, Sarah was getting a little old for a sitter, but Joel still asked you to keep an eye on her. You figured he wanted her to have another girl to talk to. Someone older and wiser she could confide in about bullies, to go shopping with her, and teach her how to use a tampon. On paper, you were a certified good-influence: a church-going honors student, marching band, a literal Girl Scout.

Joel couldn’t afford to pay you much, but he was a good guy. He kept your favorite snacks in the house and gave you rides when your daddy wouldn’t let you use the Jeep; last summer he had installed a phone jack in your room so you could have your own line. More than that, Sarah was actually a pretty cool kid; you liked hanging out with her.

“Seriously, Mercedes,” you warned. “I know you’re just fucking around, but you can’t talk like that. Not at school. That’s the kind of shit that got Mr. Spaden put on a watchlist.”

“That and flashing sixth period APUSH,” Mercedes laughed.

“He’s like a widower, right?” Tina asked. “Kind of emo.”

Your brow furrowed.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “They don’t really talk about Sarah’s mom.”

“I mean, she has to be dead, right?” Cheryl said. “What kind of mom would just abandon her kid like that?”

You shrugged. “Maybe that’s why they don’t talk about her.”

The Millers’ house was just two streets over from yours. At 4pm you met Sarah at her bus stop and walked her home.

“So how was school?” you asked.

Sarah shrugged. “You know, it’s school.”

You wrapped an arm around Sarah, giving her an encouraging squeeze as you walked.

“Guess what I brought,” you said, reaching into your bag for your copy of Clueless on dvd. “We can make popcorn and paint our nails, give you a little makeover. What do you think?”

“Sounds good,” Sarah leaned into you. “As long as you use real butter this time. None of that diet crap that gave me the shits.”

“Well excuse me,” you rolled your eyes. “Not all of us can be effortlessly thin.”

You ordered pizza–an indulgence, but Joel insisted on treating when he had to work late–and put on the movie. By the time the credits rolled your mani-pedis had time to set, so you brought out your makeup bag and let Sarah pick out a CD to put in the stereo–some twangy duet. A man and a woman singing along to a surprisingly cheerful tune.

Bye bye love, bye bye happiness Hello loneliness, I think I’m gonna cry…

“What happened to Destiny’s Child?” you asked.

“Nothing,” Sarah stuck her tongue out. “It’s one of my dad’s.”

You knew Sarah had more alternative sensibilities–even more than yours–and sometimes struggled to fit in. She didn’t shop at Hollister and Abercrombie, she didn’t have straight hair and pencil-thin eyebrows. She didn’t even have a traditional family. Everyone wanted to belong somewhere, but you hoped with a little guidance, Sarah could avoid some of the pitfalls you had faced in high school and figure out she didn’t have to change herself for the sake of others.

“You don’t have to like something just because your dad does,” you said as Sarah took a seat on the carpet beside you. “You have to decide for yourself–make your own way in the world.”

“For your information,” Sarah said. “Loretta Lynn is very punk.”

“Alright, punk,” you laughed. “We can work with that.”

You gave Sarah a mirror to hold as you dusted her eyelids with sparkly blue shadow and showed her how to apply pencil to her waterline.

“You’re pretty enough as it is,” you said, dipping a brush into the blush to apply on the apples of her cheeks. “We’re just enhancing your natural beauty.”

Sarah shifted her seat, her brows furrowing with tension.

“How do you find somebody,” she asked. “Someone you like and let them know you want to get to know them.”

“I’m sorry, honey, I think I’m the wrong person to ask,” you said with a laugh. “I haven’t had much luck in that department. Just be yourself, anyone who doesn’t appreciate that isn’t worth your time.”

“There aren’t any boys you like at school?”

“To be honest, high school boys are pretty gross,” you said. “Why, is there someone you’re interested in?”

“Do you like my dad?” Sarah blurted out.

You froze; the hairs on the back of your neck prickling.

“What? Are you being funny?” you forced a laugh, setting down your makeup brushes. Your ears burned red. “Of course I like your dad. He’s super nice.”

“No, I mean do you like him like him,” Sarah pressed. “Do you think he’s cute…”

“He’s a good looking man,” you stammered, hoping it sounded like it was the first time this had occurred to you. “You know, for a grown up.”

“He doesn’t have anybody,” Sarah frowned. “Doesn’t go out..Meet people…Date. If he’s a good guy and girls think he’s cute. It’s gotta be me, don’t you think? I’m the reason he’s alone.”

“Oh Sarah,” you sighed, taking her hands. “It’s not you. And even if it were, you’re worth it. Your daddy loves you more than anything–I wish my parents had half as much interest in my life as your dad has in yours. You are amazing; you have such a good heart. So you can’t think like that, okay? You are enough. You are everything.”

Sarah nodded and you dabbed her eyes with a tissue before her mascara started running.

“Come here, let me put on the finishing touch.” You swiped peach-flavored gloss across her lips. “What do you think?”

“I look different,” she said, observing her reflection in the little compact mirror. “I think I like it.”

“You should keep this one,” you said, handing her the lip gloss. “Color looks better on you.”

Sarah held the tube of gloss in both hands and finally cracked a smile.

“It’s getting late. You go wash up before bed, alright,” you told her. “You want to take a bubble bath? I brought Warm Vanilla Sugar.”

You waited downstairs while Sarah cleaned up; she changed into her pjs and was in bed by 10:30. You nodded off on the couch for a bit until Joel came in a little after 11.

“Hey, Sweetpea, thanks for staying,” Joel said, reaching into his back pocket and pulling a $20 out of his wallet for you. “I really appreciate it.”

He looked tired. In your half-dozing state, you wondered what it would be like to be the one he came home to at night. To greet him at the door with a beer and a kiss. To curl up on the couch together for movie nights with Sarah nestled between you. To have someone to take care of and someone to take care of you.

“Yeah, of course,” you yawned, rubbing your eyes. “She’s been good as gold. Just got to bed about a half hour ago.”

“Let me just say goodnight and I’ll give you a ride home,” Joel said, heading up the stairs.

You gathered your things while Joel tucked in Sarah. He grabbed his keys and ushered you outside. He opened the passenger side door of his truck for you to climb in.

Joel started up the car and pulled out of the driveway. His hand was resting on the gearshift. You stretched, letting your hand brush against his. He pulled away like you had burned him.

“Your hands are freezing,” he said, reaching for the heater, turning the dial all the way up. “It’ll warm up in a minute, put your hands up to the vent.”

You drew your hands back into your lap, sitting stock-still and ashamed as Joel turned the car at the end of the cul de sac.

“So how’s school going?” Joel asked, breaking the silence.

“Pretty good,” you nodded.

“You thinking about college, or–”

“Right now, UT Austin,” you said.

“That’s a great school,” Joel said. “Close to home.” You watched a muscle in his jaw flex.

“It’s a guaranteed scholarship once I finish my Gold Award,” you said. “I’m building a rosary garden for the church.” That was if the stupid council ever approved your damn project. Even after you had planted and mulched and hauled paving stones and gravel, they kept insisting you needed to do more. Apparently anything less than solving world hunger fell short of their expectations–and yet the Eagle Scouts got all the prestige?

“I remember, you were working on that the last time you came over,” he said. “How’s it going?”

“Actually, I was wondering if you might let me borrow some tools,” you said. “I’m building a pergola, you know, to shade the Blessed Virgin.”

You chuckled and Joel chuckled.

“Yeah, absolutely,” he said. “Can’t let the Blessed Virgin get heat stroke, right?”

“I really appreciate it,” you said, glancing sideways at him. “My daddy’s kind of useless.”

“Your daddy’s a good man,” Joel said sternly as he turned the truck down your street. “A good man.”

“I know.” You stared out the window. Your father had helped the Millers out after Tommy got arrested at Benji’s drive in for decking some guy for calling him a wetback. But clearly Joel had never seen your daddy drunk. “I just wouldn’t trust him around power tools.”

Joel stopped the car along the curb at the end of your driveway. You held your breath as he reached over you to unlatch the door and push it open.

“You go on now,” he instructed. “I’ll watch you get in the door.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Joel,” you said, sliding down from the seat of the truck. You were keenly aware of his eyes on your back as you made your way down the driveway.

You paused with your key in the front door, looking back down the drive before you stepped inside. Joel was still waiting; you waved at him and he smiled back before shifting the car into gear as you closed the door.

#joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller #pedro pascal #tlou fanfiction #tlou #tlou hbo

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readychilledwine · 9 months

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Pressure

A/n: this was heavily inspired by this post

Amelia is one of my favorite ocs I have trapped in the writing world I keep under lock and key. She is one of my Archeron sister characters that I decided was the perfect firey match to Eris. In this little snippet of their lives together, she's just finally had it. Maybe someday, I'll be brave enough to bring their full story into light.

Warnings - mentions of smut, a lot of vulgar language, implied mental breakdown, alcohol use as a coping mechanism, Beron Vanserra is mentioned, and a lack of editing.

Amelia was just done.

Between the constant pressure of being the dutiful wife of the future High Lord of Autumn, the sister of the High Lady of Night, and Beron's new favorite toy to fuck with, she had finally had it.

Her hair was a tangled mess on top of her head. She had attempted to hide it in a messy bun, but it was no use. The blonde mess of curls had officially taken on a mind of its own.

She knew her makeup was smudged, but she could not find the energy to care. Exhaustion had won today. Hence, the two steaming cups of coffee she was double fisting like Cassian at Rita's. Black mascara and eyeliner caused her already tired eyes to look even worse.

She had not even bothered to change since her 4pm breakdown in the dog kennels. She was covered in fur and the lingering scent of hounds. She knew she should bathe, make herself presentable before Eris got to their chambers, but she just genuinely did not care anymore.

She had lost herself in this game of High Lord manipulation and mental chess. It was a game she had never asked to play, and one she was sure would be the death of her if Eris did not off his father soon.

She had loved to read before this all. But lately, she never had time, and when she did, the book quickly found its way into her "rainy day reattempt later" pile. She was trying to distract herself with another attempt at a book tonight, though.

She thought maybe a different genre would help. She had taken Azriel's recommendation in a psychological horror novel, and just found herself laughing at the poor build up, the half effort descriptions, and the ever growing plot holes.

"I fucking quit," she tossed her book to the side, sipping on the warm bitter liquid as she stared into the fire.

"My spark," the deep honeyed voice of her mate reached her ears. "Amelia, baby, what's wrong?"

"Fuck you and fuck this place." Eris chuckled at her response before sitting on the couch near her spot on the floor. "Fuck the games. The court systems. The High Lords. Fuck the fae. Fuck being fae. Fuck all of you."

She took another deep sip of her coffee nose scrunched at the bitter taste. Eris could feel her through the bond. He could feel her love for him, but it was weighed down heavily by her anger, frustration, and exhaustion.

"Tell me more," Eris leaned his elbows onto his knees. He was allowing his wife, his mate, this one moment of anger. He knew this dance all too well, and he could tell she needed to have this moment.

"I really fucking hate that prick your dad has in charge of the libraries. He's a condescending piece of pond scum, and I will dance near his pyre one of these days," Eris felt his eyes go wide, covering his mouth to hide the laughter threatening to escape.

Amelia continued after sipping her coffee. "I hate your father, too, actually." She paused, switching to sip the coffee she had secretly added Eris's whiskey into. "Do you know what that fucker said to me today?"

Eris smirked. "Tell me what he said, my love."

"That fucker said to me I was failing at my duties as a wife since we do not have a child yet. He told me to fuck you more and learn my place."

Eris was frozen as he watched her drink the coffee he could smell liquor radiating from again. "And what did you say?"

"I told him you've never once complained about how I perform my wifely duties when your cock is in my mouth. That shut him up real fuckin fast. Fucking asshole."

Eris took in Amelia's appearance for the first time. Her heavy eyelids. Her chapped lips. Her messy hair and disheveled clothing. She had not bathed today, and he knew she had not slept last night. He took in the look of despair etching deeper into her face as she drank. The stack of books tossed onto the ground without care.

"I think we need a vacation, my love." Eris's voice was soft as he moved to sit on the ground with his mate. "Maybe I should send a message to Kal. We could go to Winter for a little-"

"Fuck. The. High. Lords. Fuck the games. Fuck the song and dance. If we're going to be putting on a show, it may as well be in this fucking hellhole."

Eris paused. Any trip to another court would involve Amelia and him playing the same roles they were in daily. The ones she clearly had enough of. There were few places he would be able to take her to get away from all of this, and he knew of a perfect one.

"How about the cabin?"

He watched as her breath hitched. Her eyes peeked over to him before refocusing on the hearth. They had not been to the cabin since their mating ceremony. It had been two months of them alone. Two months of love, sex, and silence.

"No duties. No High Lords. No masks. Just you, me, and the hounds." He kissed below her ear. "Just us. All alone. Up in the Autumn mountains. Where you can scream as loud as you like. Curse as loudly as you like." Another kiss on her jaw line and then her neck.

"Just us?"

He nodded as he caged her between him and the couch. Straddling her thighs with his knees so she could not escape.

"Just us, our hounds, and that wicked mouth of yours."

"Take me," she whispered to Eris, her blue eyes sparkling for the first time tonight. "Take me please."

"I intend to," Eris nipped her nose, grabbing her small hand in his as she went to smack his chest. "If you go take a bath."

Amelia shut her eyes before chuckling. "Fuck you."

Eris smiled gently down at her. "And you'll get to. After your bath. Come my spark, we will bathe together and plan our trip."

#eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #acotar x reader #eris vanserra

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fuck-customers · 5 months

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i’m so sick of my boss rewarding customers for their bad behavior. lady books a reservation for 3:30 tomorrow, showed up today, and then was absolutely FURIOUS that she had booked for the wrong day. she spent several minutes yelling at and cursing at my coworker. (because it was totally HIS fault that SHE picked the wrong day on our website and didn’t check her confirmation email.)

it got worse when he had to explain that we can’t move bookings forward, only push them back, so we couldn’t move it to a later time today. we also aren’t able to give any refunds in the store, they have to contact our customer care team. as in there is physically no way for us to give in-store refunds, and non-managers moving a game forward can be considered a fireable offense. (at-will state, small local business, absolutely terrible boss who only cares about bottom lines.)

there was a lot of “this my only fucking day off” and “this is the only fucking day i have to spend with my fucking children.” as our policy was my coworker’s fault somehow. just on and on and on, and the whole time her kids were sitting there looking embarrassed. my coworker said that one of them was crying like the entire time she was yelling.

this lady put up a whole fuss about how she would never come here again and how she was going to go to our competitors across town and whatever. then refused to leave the store for another 20 minutes so she could email our boss and pout i guess?

cut to twenty minutes later and our boss calls to get our end of the story, and then lets us know she had rebooked for 4pm and that he had given her a refund on the original booking and a discount code for their new one. i ran her game and she was super smug while signing in and made some comment about how my coworker was incompetent and she hoped i would be better. (also she was late!! how are you going to do all that and then show up LATE the second time. jesus.)

Posted by admin Rodney.

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boxboxlewis · 2 months

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a tag game, a tag game! thank you to the glorious @tackytigerfic for the tag (& check out their list here)

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 posted fics and see if there's a pattern 🧐

🧐 Bono knew what Lewis was going to say before he even started speaking, just from the way he held his body: hands by his sides, open, too casual, face turned away at an angle.

🧐 The rain is hot, relentless, soaking through George’s race suit and fireproofs, making the track slick and dangerous, sending up a thick cloud of spume behind each car.

🧐 Alex is rolling a condom on, intent on his own dick.

🧐 These days Max is pretty much an expert at only staring at her teammate a socially appropriate amount, but she stops short, now, half-formed words falling back into her mouth.

🧐 “Hello, Doctor,” George says.

🧐 Alex and George: when they're not working or hanging out with friends or at the expensive gym down the road (George) or volunteering to teach underprivileged children to read (Alex, incredibly), they’re in the flat they share, curled up like cats on the sofa George bought from an Instagram ad.

🧐 At 4pm George gets a text from Alex.

🧐 Max’s profile said he loved to cook, so after Daniel shows him around the apartment he takes him back into the kitchen and says, “I don’t know if you, uh?"

🧐 “Congrats, by the way,” Max says.

🧐 On the whole, George is an acceptable addition to the flat, but sometimes Alex does want to lightly defenestrate him.

this was a fun one! i think my pattern is i like long sentences! can't stop won't stop, parenthetical asides i love you, colons i love you, long daisy-chained clauses i love you. tagging @powerful-owl @bighoneyenergy @janinaduszejko @goblinmatriarch @officialmood, if u want to!

#writing #games #i did a writing exercise recently where u could only write sentences of seven words or fewer #and look i do love the occasional short sentence but ONLY short sentences? i nearly died #erin if you see this ilu

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wingsonghalo · 2 months

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A Practice, For Now ((HanaKou version))

SO back in October of 2022, I goofily remixed my first HanaNene fic, A Practice, For Now (also available on Ao3), to feature Hanako asking Kou to help him practice kissing. It's still HanaNene-coded (and MitsuKou-coded), but instead of Nene asking Hanako for practice because she wants her first kiss before she dies, Hanako is asking Kou for practice because he wants to already know how if he ever ends up kissing Nene. So they stumble through some first kisses. They are so silly and I love them. While I initially just wrote this for my HanaNene server for a bit of fun, even keeping the structure of the opening lines of the original fic and the 8-page length (it's literally just 469 words less than the original lmao), it's been SO long since I posted any of my JSHK writing, and there is not enough HanaKou in the world, so!! I hope you enjoy this silliness!! (Also, obviously this would be before any canon kisses, haha) ================================================

It wasn't the proper setting, the air dusty and still in the abandoned classroom, the dying sunlight streaming in through the window in dust-mote-laden rays, and his nose twitching from the chalk dust as he cleaned the board. It wasn't the right time either, 4PM on a Friday. It most certainly wasn't the right person.

But Hanako, who was loitering around here for reasons Kou couldn't explain, brought up a very unexpected topic nevertheless.

"Hey, kid?" he finally spoke up, hovering helpfully in the background as Kou launched into another coughing fit from clapping the chalkboard erasers together.

"Hm?" Kou responded once he was able to speak again, tossing a glimpse at him over his shoulder. Being a ghost, his lungs already drew in no air and thus he did not have to choke on this chalk dust, the lucky bastard.

"We should kiss."

Kou dropped both erasers and began another spectacular coughing fit, no chalk dust required this time, as he whirled on him. "WHAT?!" He'd turned around so fast he almost fell over, and struggled to steady himself by flinging his hands back to brace on the chalk tray.

The Toilet Troll just looked mildly concerned at Kou's sudden inability to stand or breathe air, raising his eyebrows a little. "Be a little louder, why don't you; I think there are people in the next prefecture over who didn't hear you."

"What the HELL kind of thing is that to say?!" Kou demanded, his knees wobbling.

His ghost friend frowned. "I thought it was a rather clever joke. You were so loud that I was implying that people—"

"NOT THAT," Kou interrupted, flinging a hand out to stop him. "The… what you said before that!" Had he misheard or something?!

"Oh," said Hanako mildly, "when I said we should kiss?"

"What is HAPPENING?!" Kou clutched his head desperately. "Is this some kind of bizarre nightmare?!"

"How rude." Hanako's disapproving frown was even more pronounced now. "It was an earnest suggestion."

No matter how many times Kou blinked his wide eyes at his friend, nothing changed, so he dropped his arms and rested his weight against the chalk tray behind him. The pain of it jabbing into his back kept him grounded. "Okay, seriously, what the hell, Hanako? You know perfectly well that that sounds like an insane suggestion, so unless this is just a really bad joke, you must have a pretty good reason." Kou's best guess was that Hanako was going to somehow trick him into agreeing and then laugh at him.

Hanako didn't look like he was in the mood for laughing, however. He heaved a huge sigh, and sat heavily on one of the desks closest to Kou near the front of the classroom with a fwump. Usually he didn't make much noise when he sat on things, so he must have been either really tired, or really dedicated to being theatrical (it was most often the latter). "Look… my life ended before I got to experience a lot of things. Things I thought I never would experience now that I’m dead. But…" He bit his lip. Kou was pretty sure he wasn't just being theatrical now. "It kind of seems like one thing that I thought was out of reach… might not be?"

"You're going to have to be more specific," Kou pressed him.

The ghost tapped his fingertips together. "There's… someone that I like. And I was thinking I'd like to maybe tell them how I feel.” The fingertip-tapping got faster. “And possibly practice a way of expressing those feelings."

"And… who might you be talking about?" Kou had a pretty good idea, but he wanted to be sure.

The gold eyes he lifted to meet Kou's were pleading, desperate. "Do I really have to say it? You feel the same way about her, don't you?"

Her. As he suspected, this had something to do with Hanako's feelings for Yashiro-senpai. Kou didn't respond, except to clench his fists by his sides. "So… what, you want some experience before you tell her your feelings? With me?"

"With my friend," Hanako emphasized softly, and looked down. "My only other friend. I don't have a lot of allies, you know."

Goddammit. How was he supposed to refuse that outright? "And why should I help you? Doesn't that give you an unfair advantage?" he pointed out, crossing his arms. He tried to keep his voice wary, but to his own ears he already sounded resigned.

"Well, you'd gain experience too, hopefully. Don't tell me you're rolling in romantic expertise?"

Kou grimaced, mouth pulling to one side as he tapped a fingertip on his arm. "I have zero experience, a fact I'm sure you're aware of, or you wouldn't have asked me."

He smiled, equal parts devious and sheepish. "Guilty as charged."

The sigh Kou let out lasted a good five seconds. "You're not joking, are you." It wasn't really a question, but Hanako shook his head anyway. "This is ridiculous. You know that, right?" Hanako nodded, his eyes not moving from him as Kou took a few steps towards him. "I mean, I'm a guy. It's not going to be like kissing her. Aren't you freaked out by it?" Another shake of the head. Kou gulped as Hanako stood up again, ghostly feet touching the floor.

He was shorter than Kou. Kou had known that, but it was especially evident now that they were standing facing each other. "Does it freak you out?" he asked.

"Only because it's you," Kou quipped.

"But… you're okay with it?" His goldenrod eyes wavered a bit.

Kou shrugged. "Only because it's you," he repeated, and bent down. Hanako's eyes fluttered shut just in time for their lips to meet.

It was so cold that it surprised him, and maybe that was why it only lasted a split second. But that had hardly been enough to qualify as experience, so when Hanako pressed back up against his mouth, Kou didn't back away. They stood there like that for a few seconds, neither moving a muscle. Kou could hear his pulse pounding in his ears.

When Hanako pulled away, he glanced unsurely up at the other boy. "Well… what did you think?"

"I'll be honest, dude," said Kou: "It kind of sucked."

Hanako flinched. "Well, you said it yourself: it's not the same as it would be with a girl!" Still, his shoulders slumped. "It was bad, huh…"

It was almost endearing, how seriously he was taking this. But Kou pushed back the slightly sappy feelings of fondness swirling inside him at watching Hanako fidget, his cheeks still dusted pink. "I think it's because we were just kind of standing there," he said with a slight smile. "You're supposed to sort of… tilt your head or whatever, I think. So it doesn't feel as stiff."

"Well look who's suddenly an expert," Hanako huffed, but he looked intrigued at this new information. "If you know what you're supposed to do, why didn't you do it?"

"Pardon me for trying to get over the feeling of smooching a popsicle!" Kou fired back.

Hanako's cheeks went a shade darker. "I can't help that any more than you can help feeling like a furnace!"

"A furnace?" Kou repeated.

"Yeah, a furnace!" Hanako crossed his arms, and the pouting look on his face was what some might describe as cute. "You're so hot that I thought I was going to evaporate into mist!"

They stared at each other for a few seconds.

"I'm hot, huh," Kou said, trying not to burst into laughter.

"I didn't mean it like that and you know it," Hanako grumbled, his whole face red.

Kou was usually the butt of Hanako's jokes, so it was quite gratifying being the one to make Hanako feel like a fool for once. "No, I know what you meant," he said, pretending to puff out his chest and combing his fingers back through his hair in his best male model impression. "I'm a total stud." He was, at least, related to someone people frequently labeled as such.

"I'm going to rip that stupid earring off you," the ghost spat, but there was no real threat behind the words.

"Don't hate me for being beautiful," Kou sighed melodramatically. It was the kind of thing Mitsuba might have said, he thought with a fair bit of amusement.

"It's time to shut up now," said Hanako, yanking Kou down by his tie to kiss him again.

Hanako was, at the very least, a quick learner, because this time he tilted his head as instructed, their lips molding together easily. Kou responded as well as he could, moving his mouth in counterpoint. The other boy's lips were soft, and the temperature difference was not exactly unpleasant once he got used to it. Before he even realized it, he found himself swept away in the sensation, allowing himself to be guided by feeling alone. But eventually he needed to breathe, and so he put his hands on Hanako's shoulders to push him back.

The ghost must have misunderstood the intention, however, because he took the increased contact as encouragement, pressing against him more insistently and forcing Kou to take a surprised breath in through his nose instead. Hanako was kissing him like he had something to prove now, having let go of his tie to grasp his shirt with both fists as if to prevent Kou's escape.

Kou wasn't trying to escape, though. His grip on Hanako's shoulders, which had started as an attempt to push him away, now drew him a little closer. His lips responded to Hanako's every move, trying to slow him down where he was too forceful and coax a reaction whenever he stilled. Where had all this sudden effort come from? Kou's knees felt a bit weak, which was stupid because he was kissing Hanako, and it wasn't like there should be any actual feelings involved here, and oh my god he was kissing Hanako; what was this situation and why was his head swimming and why did it feel like sparklers in his gut when Hanako accidentally caught a tooth on his lower lip and pulled away to huskily whisper a "sorry" before kissing him again?

Kou muffled a sound into Hanako's mouth and kissed back like he meant it, because he wasn't just going to let this pervy ghost make him feel like some swooning chick—not that he was swooning or anything. Yes, he only nibbled Hanako's lip back out of spite, to show that Hanako couldn't get the better of him. It had nothing to do with wanting to delight over the startled murmur the other boy made, nor with savoring the way he felt Hanako's cold hands tremble as they clutched his shirt.

This was just Kou's first experience with kissing someone, that was all. That was why every place Hanako touched felt simultaneously freezing and burning hot, that was why his knees felt ready to give out, that was why he shuddered and gripped tighter when Hanako pulled Kou's lower lip between his, like he was reluctant to part from him.

When they drew back this time, both of their faces were red, and they gasped for air, staring at each other almost challengingly. The rosy tint of Hanako's cheeks was almost—okay, no, it was completely adorable.

Shit, Kou thought to himself as his heart lurched in his chest, did he maybe have sort of a tiny thing for Hanako?

Whatever; not important right now.

"Does it always… feel like that?" Hanako finally broke the silence. His voice sounded a bit roughened in a way that made the hairs on the back of Kou's neck stand up.

"Like what?" Kou prompted, brain still a bit sluggish and yet swirling with questions.

"Like, you know…" Number Seven of the School Wonders lowered his head, looking like a shy young boy rather than an impressive leader of apparitions as his large eyes flicked up towards Kou’s. "…Good?"

Some part of Kou preened at the praise, implicit though it was. "We've already established that I have zero experience, so I couldn't tell you."

"Ah," Hanako replied with a nod, "that's true."

"But…" The hesitance had crept into Kou's voice too now as he stuck his hands in his pockets. "I didn't… hate it."

Hanako's face lit up, and Kou's heart skipped a beat. Oh no. Kou hadn't been aware of how bad his soft spot was for this little jerk. "So it wasn't as bad that time?"

Kou stifled an uncomfortable laugh. That was putting things mildly. "Nah, it was, um…" He cleared his throat, and ran a hand through his messy blonde hair. "Definitely not as bad."

The other boy grinned a mile wide. "Aww, I love you too, kiddo," the menace teased with a wink.

"I take it back," Kou decided. "I hated it, and I hate you."

"I know you don't mean it, but hearing you say it kind of hurts anyway." Hanako was pouting again. "If I tried kissing you again, would you hate me less, or more?”

"You're really pushing it," Kou groused as he rolled his eyes. "Don't you think you've gotten enough practice?"

The other boy didn't look confident, pressing his fingertips together and glancing up at Kou hesitantly. "I don't know… do you think she'd punch me if I kissed her at this, er, skill level?"

"I don't think she'd punch you," Kou said, crossing his arms thoughtfully, "but if you made her cry, I would definitely punch you."

Hanako's expression clouded over, his eyes darkening and his brows drawing together. "It's selfish to feel this way, I know. I mean, you're actually alive. She'll remember you when she leaves this place. You…" He hung his head. "…actually have a chance with her."

Kou smiled, a little bittersweetly. "There was a time that I would have loved to date Senpai. She's really cute, and totally my type." He scooped up Raiteijou, which had been leaning against the wall in the corner, wrapped up and disguised as an umbrella, before facing Hanako again. He felt more secure with the staff in his hands. "But the more I spent time around you guys," he continued, "the more I realized that I have more fun as her friend." Plus there was the fact that his senpai was completely obviously head-over-heels in love with the ghost in front of him, but he wasn’t going to give Hanako the satisfaction of admitting that.

Hanako's eyebrows shot up. "Did you just friendzone Yashiro?"

He brought one shoulder up to his ear in a half-shrug. "I guess?"

"So… you don't have feelings for her?" He sounded incredulous, like he couldn't believe anyone wouldn't love Yashiro Nene.

"Not romantic ones anymore," he clarified. He'd still do just about anything for her as a friend, after all.

Hanako narrowed his eyes. "Why'd you agree to help your former rival, then? Just out of the goodness of your heart?"

He hesitated, his free hand clenching into a fist in his pocket. Pink hair and a smile brighter than the midday sun flashed through his mind like snapshots. "I still might have wanted some practice," he mumbled.

Hanako waggled his eyebrows at him, leaning right into his space. "Don't tell me I'm more your type now?~"

Kou whacked the Porcelain-Throne Poltergeist lightly on the head with Raiteijou. "Go back to your bathroom if you want to talk shit," he grumbled, but his cheeks felt warm.

"It's a good thing I didn't fall for you, since you'd apparently be an abusive boyfriend," Hanako whined, rubbing the spot Kou's wrapped staff had hit. Kou was positive it hadn't actually hurt him. He was just being dramatic.

"I'd never hit anyone I was dating," Kou said with dignity. "You're a special case."

"You think I'm special~" Hanako sang, floating around him obnoxiously. "You liked smooching me~"

Irritation prickled Kou's spine. He wanted to smack him again, but instead he took a deep, grounding breath. He could be mature here. "Like I said, it wasn't bad," he got out through gritted teeth. "Thank you for the experience." He gave a stiff bow before turning on his heel. "If you're done being a pain in the ass, I'll be on my way." He hadn't entirely finished cleaning the classroom, but if Hanako kept being so annoying, Kou couldn't guarantee he'd be able to resist shutting him up (whether with Raiteijou or his own mouth, he was still debating).

"Wait!" Hanako's hand closed around the fabric at his back, and Kou stopped in his tracks. "I, um… I didn't get to say thank you." Curiously, Kou turned around to face him again, raising an eyebrow to prompt him.

The vulnerability in Hanako's face couldn't be anything but genuine, his brows drawn up as he let go of Kou. "I really couldn't have asked anyone else for help about this." He pulled his cap off his head, fidgeting with it as he held it down by his waist. "It… means a lot to me that you didn't just laugh in my face."

Kou wanted to make a joke, like Hanako would have at any other time. Say yeah, well, it was a close thing or can I still laugh now? But looking at this kid—this kid who had died before his first kiss, died before he'd even gotten to Kou's age, this kid who was short and scrawny and suspicious and had a propensity for dirty jokes but had also saved Kou more times than he could count, who had called Kou his only other friend—he couldn't bring himself to make light of things.

"You're really important to Senpai, Hanako," he said, tone heavy with sincerity, and then grabbed Hanako's hat out of his hands. He shoved it back onto the other boy's head and pulled it low over his eyes, ignoring Hanako's squawk of alarm and laying one more kiss on the hat's brim. "…But you're important to me, too. Don't forget that."

Hanako's hands sprang up to push his cap back into its rightful place, and Kou was satisfied to see that his whole face was glowing red. He looked absolutely stunned, his mouth hanging open and his hair in disarray as he fumbled for words. "I, what's—what's with that, all of a sudden?" he finally sputtered. "Getting all sentimental on me like that…!"

"You started it," Kou retaliated, sticking out his tongue.

Wow, Hanako actually looked more flustered than Kou had been banking on. Either Hanako had some slight feelings buried there too that were going to remain unaddressed, or Kou was way cooler than anyone ever admitted.

(Or Hanako was just easy to fluster. It was probably that, but Kou's ego wanted it to be more than that.)

"You're not going to tell anyone about this, are you?" Hanako said next, still straightening his hat and looking out of sorts as he cleared his throat.

"Psh. Like I'd want to tell anyone about kissing you," Kou threw over his shoulder, since he was getting ready to leave.

"You say that, but I know you're just dying to gush about my considerable talent." Ah, he'd recovered his swagger that quickly, huh?

"I'm not dying for anything, pal," he shot back with a lopsided grin, shrugging on his uniform jacket, which he’d flung over a desk chair.

They shared a look, and Kou felt certain that there was understanding between them when Hanako grinned back.

"See you tomorrow, Kou."

It was perhaps the first time Hanako had actually said his name, and the sound of it was like a flicker of candle flame in his chest, making his smile widen even further.

There was a lot of stuff for Kou to figure out. Maybe he had a bit of experience now, but still not much confidence to make any moves to resolve his entanglement with a certain other supernatural. Maybe he'd never get any kind of satisfying happy ending even if he did gain some confidence. Maybe he'd essentially given away his first kisses to someone he had no intention of pursuing (tiny embers of something burning in his chest notwithstanding). Maybe didn't have much of an idea of where to go from here.

But that was okay.

"Good night, Hanako," he replied, pushing open the door to the classroom.

For now, this was fine.

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Thanks for letting me revisit this old thing!! If y'all like it, I'll put it up on Ao3 as well, LOL. 💖

#hanakou #hananene #jibaku shounen hanako kun #toilet bound hanako kun #mitsukou #stuff i write

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