#(or maybe it's 3 or 4? they all blur together)

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Daddy’s Best Friend, Mr. Miller✨

✨Masterlist✨

dbf! Joel x fem! reader

A/N: Hey, guys! Super excited to kick off my first dbf! Joel series. It was originally going to be a one shot, but after some thought I wanted to write more. As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated. Always like to hear your thoughts ☺️ Joel is a menace in this one! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

- Summary: After going out with your classmate from graduate school, Mr. Miller doesn’t take so kindly to your date when he sees you out and about with the college jock. Will the older, attractive man you’ve been pining after for years finally give you what you’ve been wanting for so long?

- Pairing: Joel x fem! reader

- Rating: Explicit 18+ Only MDNI

- Tags: Porn with Plot, dbf! Joel, fingering, oral, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, dom! Joel, (reader is 25, Joel is mid 40’s)

Part 1: Blurring the Lines

Part 2: Secret Glances and Wandering Hands

Part 3: October Surprises and Secrets Slurred

Part 4: Birthday Candles and Rock Concerts

Part 5: Let Me Take You There (Coming Soon!)

*Hot Tubs and Calloused Fingers* (Coming Soon!)

Part 6

Part 7

Recommended songs for series “Scary Love” and “Daddy Issues” and “A Little Death” by The Neighbourhood

Part 1 Word Count: 13.6k

The warm August air blows your long hair gently as you sit outside Moonlight Bar, letting the Austin city lights shine in the distance. The lighting is low as the dark blue luminescence of the bar surrounds the alcohol on the back shelf and various plants hang above the edges of the bar. The Goo Goo Dolls play softly across the outside speakers as people mingle together at various white wooden tables strewn across the manicured green lawn. It’s a busy night, one of the more popular bars in the area.

You’re sitting with William. One of the boys that’s in one of your law classes at the University of Texas. He wouldn’t leave you alone at school, so you figured you’d appease him and let him take you out on a date.

He isn’t bad looking. He has shaggy blonde hair and bright green eyes. He’s built like a body builder and has a jawline so sharp that it could cut someone. He’s nice and all, but he won’t stop talking about fucking football. You hate football, but you just smile and nod along to what he says. Occasionally rolling your eyes when he isn’t looking at you.

“Did you see the quarterback get slammed at the game last Saturday? Tim took him out hard! I thought he’d never get up!” he says starstruck as he shows you a picture from the game on his phone, slamming back another drink of vodka as he lowers it to the table.

“I already told you I didn’t watch the game,” you say, trying not to sound obnoxious.

“Oh, right. Well, you missed out. It was awesome!” he shouts as the group of people next to you look at William. You internally groan at the embarrassment that’s caked on your face. You need to get up for a few minutes. You’re bored and want to cut the talk on sports.

“I’ll be right back,” you utter as you get up from the barstool.

“Where are you going?” he asks with a hurt expression on his face.

“To the bathroom. I’ll be back in a few minutes, chill,” you say as you put a hand on his shoulder encouragingly and walk away. You roll your eyes at the action and start walking towards the back where the bathrooms are.

William really is a nice guy, he just isn’t the guy for you. You don’t have that much in common, and he’s way too into football. Granted, he did play as an undergrad, but you don’t really care. You want to talk about subjects other than sports, like maybe something you care about. He never makes an effort to ask you about yourself though. He just wants to talk about sports and his gym routine.

What a bore.

He’s a few years older than you. He’s twenty-eight, and you’re twenty-five. Soon to be twenty-six in a couple of months. You always had a thing for older guys. But lately you had your eyes set on someone else. Someone off limits to you which made you want him even more. But it would never happen. You needed to quit telling yourself it would. He’s too old for you, in his mid forties. Which only makes you that much more curious.

You aren’t watching where you’re going as you round the corner of a small crowd and run straight into someone who feels like a thick brick wall.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going and…” You stop mid sentence as you see just who stands in front of you.

Joel Miller. Your dad’s hot best friend, the older man you can’t get out of your head.

“S’alright, sweetheart. Didn’t think I’d run into you here,” he says as he laughs, his smile making his honey brown eyes crinkle up at the corners, making you swoon and melt under his gaze.

God, he’s pretty.

“What are you doing here?” you ask with surprise in your voice.

“Havin’ a drink? It’s the weekend. Gotta relax somehow,” he says with another small smile as his Texas accent comes out thick and low. That melodic southern accent that could put you at ease on any given day.

“Oh, right.” You move a lock of hair behind your ear nervously and you swear he watches you a little too closely as his eyes trail to your neck, keeping his gaze there a little too long.

“You come with anyone tonight?” he asks as he looks around the crowded bar, bringing his focus back to you.

“Yeah. Came with a date tonight. Someone from one of my classes,” you say carefully.

His bottom lip twinges and his jaw clenches just enough for you to notice. His bicep flexes around his forest green plaid shirt as it’s rolled up to his elbows, exposing thick veins that spider all the way down his lower arms as they end in his massive hands. You gulp at the sight of him, of how seriously hot he is.

Was he jealous of William? Surely not…right?

“You be careful tonight. Don’t let him do anything you don’t want to,” he warns with a deep gruff in his voice, staring at you with serious, dark eyes.

“He’s not going to do anything. He’s nice. He’s-”

He cuts you off before you can finish. “Doesn’t matter if he’s nice. He’s a guy. He can change up on you like that.” He snaps his fingers, looking at you intently. “Jus’ be careful, okay?”

Why was he being like this? Protective. He wasn’t your dad. He didn’t need to keep an eye on you. You had it under control.

“I’ll be careful, but you really don’t have to tell me that. You sound just like my dad,” you say as you roll your eyes, annoyed.

“I ain’t your dad, sweetheart. Jus’ tryin’ to look after ya is all. Don’t want ya gettin’ hurt.”

Oh.

“Right. Okay…” you say quietly.

Joel skates his eyes down your body as he takes in the tight black tank top as your cleavage spills out a little too much, going over your short, light blue jean shorts as they barely graze your tan thighs, dragging his eyes down your long legs and ending at your clean, white Converse shoes as he slowly looks back up into your eyes.

You suddenly feel self conscious, like you need to cover up a little more. Not like he hasn’t seen you in short shorts and a tank top before. Hell, he saw you in a slinky bikini last summer at a pool party and the man couldn’t keep his eyes off you.

You wouldn’t lie though, you love when he notices you. When he flicks his eyes over you and lingers just a little too long, making you burn with heat from his intense stare. He’s the one you have wet dreams about, the older man you can’t quite shake from your fantasies. But he’s off limits. Because he’s your father’s best friend. And he would never dare touch his best friend’s daughter…right?

“Well, I’ll let ya get back to it. Don’t wanna keep ya from your date. I’ll be around here if ya need me. Just shoot me a text.”

You nod in reply and make your way over to the bathroom, turning to watch Joel disappear into the crowd somewhere. A sea of green getting lost in the abyss. You sigh and walk into the bathroom, trying to get a hold of yourself.

You had met Joel when you were just eighteen years old. He had just moved into the neighborhood, and your dad made quick friends with him. Pretty soon they were best friends. He was always coming to the house to hang out with your dad, always coming to pool parties or cookouts. He even taught you how to play guitar when you asked. And he was a good teacher, the way his hands slid across yours. Those rough, calloused fingers. You’d do anything to be able to feel those again on your skin.

You wondered how they’d feel on your thighs or even someplace else. Someplace sensitive…

You finish up in the bathroom and make your way back to William. Back to where you belong tonight. You need to stop thinking about Joel. He wasn't the one that was taking you out and never would be. Even if that’s something you want, so badly.

“Oh, you’re back. You missed this great conversation me and this guy had about Jake’s pass last week with the football. It was killer!” he shouts as you settle back into your barstool and get situated.

You roll your eyes and give him a polite smile. You’re so over the football talk. Couldn’t he give it a rest? You take a large drink from your red bull vodka and place it back on the bar top as you chase it down, letting it leave a slight burn in your throat.

When you look back up and turn your head slightly to the left, you almost fall off the barstool as you see Joel sitting across the bar, just on the opposite side. He’s drinking what looks to be a cold glass of whiskey on the rocks as the amber color swirls in the cup.

He takes another sip as he keeps his eyes fixed on you intently, letting his eyes roam up and down your body as a faint snarl edges the side of his mouth as he looks over at William.

Holy shit. He is jealous. You can see it in those dark brown eyes as they slightly narrow at the loud mouthed man that sits next to you as he rambles on about football.

He swirls the short straw around his drink as he eyes you again, this time his gaze relaxing into warmth as a gentle smile plays on his lips. You blush at the brooding man and bite your lip as you look down, unable to keep your focus on the intense dark eyes that are staring at you.

What’s his deal? He never dared tried to flirt with you before. Not like this. At least not around your dad. You always felt that invisible line get drawn at times though. Like last summer when you were in a tight, short dress, about to go out with some friends for the night. You felt his eyes burn through you as he stared at your thighs as he glazed over your toned, tanned body. You could feel it in the room how thick the tension was. But he didn’t dare cross that line. Not while he was in the presence of your father.

Joel’s a good guy. He’d never do anything to disrespect or hurt you. He’s kind and caring, always willing to help you out when you need it. Like with your projects or guitar. Or that time when he picked you up when your car got stuck in the snow and drove you all the way back home in the middle of an ice storm.

He’s special. One of a kind. You just don’t understand why he’s still single when he’s drop dead gorgeous. And his curls.

God, his curls. The way his thick, tousled hair curls at the edges as grey streaks line his dark hair. And his beard. That thick, scruffy salt and pepper beard that you want to graze your fingers across in a flirtatious manner. Thinking of how good his lips might feel on yours. How soft and velvety they must be…

You snap out of it as William tries talking to you again. You avert your eyes from Joel and put your attention on the guy that sits next to you.

“Did you finish the paper yet from Mr. Lawrence’s class yet?” he asks as he takes a sip of his vodka drink.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve been done for a few days now. Wanted to knock it out before more work got piled on,” you reply nonchalantly.

“Cool. I still got a ways to go. But anyways, you wanna go to the football game next weekend? Our team’s playing here. Thought you’d want to maybe go with me?” he asks with raised eyebrows and green eyes that search yours, hoping for a yes to come from your lips.

That was a hard pass. “Sorry, I already have plans that day,” you lie, trying to sound apologetic to soothe his hopefulness.

“That’s fine. There will be other games.”

You roll your eyes as you internally groan. You’re bored and you don’t want to be sitting here with him anymore. You need someone that isn’t boring. Someone that’s older, much older. Someone with pretty brown eyes and thick arms covered in plaid…

You look up from your long, thick lashes and meet Joel’s stare again as it sears through your skull. His gaze is so intense that it stirs something low in your stomach that feels a lot like heat.

This was bad. Really bad.

You squeeze your legs shut and put out the growing fire, dropping your gaze again so you won’t be tempted to be pulled back into the flames.

William puts a hand on your thigh and leans into you as you catch a whiff of his strong vodka drink on his breath. Joel looks like he could break the glass right under his fingertips the way he’s holding the cup.

Oh, he’s mad. But why? It’s not like he was supposed to take you out. He’s your fucking father’s best friend for God’s sake. You need to get out of the sick delusion that Joel actually likes you more than his best friend’s daughter. He’s only trying to be nice, protective. He’s only looking out for you because that’s what he should be doing, for your dad.

But then why is he looking at you like that? Like he wants to eat you alive and wants to snap the neck of your god awful date.

“You okay if I do this?” William asks as he rakes his teeth over your neck roughly. Nothing is sexy about it. It hurts and his teeth are sharp, and his breath smells horrible. He puts his hand back on your thigh and squeezes as his nails dig into your skin in an extremely uncomfortable way. You wince at his actions.

“William, no. We’re in public. I don’t think-”

Before you can finish your sentence, Joel’s on him in a second, pulling him away from your body as he yanks him out of his seat. Your breath catches at the way Joel is seething and breathing hard as he glares at William with daggers in his dark eyes.

“Don’t think she wants ya doin’ that,” he snarls as venom shoots from his tongue.

“Who the fuck are you to touch me and pull me from my woman?” he yells at Joel as his nostrils flare and his green eyes turn to tiny slits.

“She ain’t your woman,” Joel scoffs, clearly annoyed at the younger, less mature male.

“Oh, and who are you? You her keeper or something?” he asks angrily.

“Somethin’ like that,” he replies, his voice clipped.

Your eyes widen at the statement. Was he marking his territory? He had to be. Or maybe he was just being protective, helping out his best friend to keep his daughter safe. Maybe it didn’t mean anything.

Or maybe it did. You can’t tell one way or the other. Your mind’s a blur.

William rolls his eyes and looks over at you. “You want to get out of here? Come on, I’ll-”

You stop him before he can finish that sentence. “No.”

He goes livid as his green eyes turn to murky swamp water. “No? Are you fucking serious?” he asks with shocked words.

“The lady said no,” Joel states firmly as he steps in front of you, blocking William’s view.

“Baby, come on. Let’s go,” William demands, holding out his hand for you to take.

“I’m not yours…” you reply quietly.

“Fine! You can walk home then, bitch,” he says with clenched teeth and a hard line across his forehead.

“Watch how you fuckin’ talk to her,” Joel growls as he pushes William up against the bar table, making the rest of his vodka spill as it lands in a heap on the floor along with the mixed in broken glass.

“You really want to go there? Because I’ll tear you apart,” William yells.

“Go on then. Try.” Joel bares his teeth and flexes his hand into a tight fist.

You can’t let them fight. You won’t let Joel get hurt, even if he can take on William. What would your dad say?

You quickly intercept and step in between them. You put your hands on Joel’s broad chest and try to push him back. “Joel, stop. He’s not worth it.”

Joel clenches his jaw and stares hard at William, about to put a fist in his face. You put your hand over his tight fist and beg him to stop. “Please.”

Joel’s fist relaxes as he looks down at you, his brown eyes softening just the slightest as he focuses on you. Butterflies were swimming through your stomach at the heat that was between the two of you. You had never been this close to Joel. You were only inches from his mouth, so close that you could reach out and brush your lips over his. So very close…

William rips you away from your thoughts as you hear him grab his keys and turn sharply your way. “Have it your way. Enjoy the old man’s company. I’m out of here.” He storms away from the bar in a hurry, leaving you and Joel alone. Together.

You suddenly realize you’re still leaning against his chest, your hand still planted firmly on his. You drop your hand and back away from his space as you rake a hand through your soft curls.

“Thanks for that. You didn’t have to,” you say nervously, your voice cracking at the thank you.

“Save it, darlin’. I could already tell you weren’t havin’ a good time, and then he put his hands all over you. Greedy bastard.” He bares his teeth as he clenches his jaw.

Greedy bastard? Well, goddamn. He does like you. He had to. Otherwise he wouldn’t be talking to you like this. Right?

“Oh uhh, yeah…” You don’t really know what to say to that. And the way he’s flaring his nostrils is making you have heart palpitations. He had never looked that mad before. At least not over you.

“You want a drink? It’s on me,” he says as he tilts his head toward the bar.

“Yeah, sure,” you reply, trying not to act like you’re flipping circles inside.

“C’mon then.” He walks you to the bar and pulls out a barstool for you as you sit down. He takes a seat next to you, gently brushing his thigh against yours as he gets into place. You can’t help but gasp a little at the touch. It feels electric.

The young, red head bartender comes over and asks for your drink orders. “Hi, guys. What’ll it be tonight?”

Joel looks over at you and raises an eyebrow, looking you over slowly as if he’s trying to figure it out. It makes chills run down your spine. “Let me guess. Malibu sunset?”

He never gets it wrong. He knows your drink of choice like the back of his own hand. It was that slight attention he always gave you that did it for you. He was always listening, always so attentive when you spoke. He knew you so well it was almost scary. No other man had paid that much attention to you, nonetheless listened to you ramble about your likes and dislikes. But Joel always did.

“You remembered?” you ask with a faint smile.

“‘Course, darlin’. How could I forget?”

You slightly blush and place your arms on the bar top as you lean on it, trying to calm yourself down. He orders his usual whiskey on the rocks, his drink of choice. A scent that you can sometimes smell on his breath when he’s sitting close to you like now. Something you want to taste on his tongue. But that’s only a daydream. That would never happen. Right?

“So, how’s school going this semester?” he asks as he turns towards you, placing one of his arms on the bar top as his plaid shirt squeezes around his flexed bicep, making you uncomfortably hot just looking at his massive arms.

“It’s going well. I mean, it’s hard. Really hard, but I’m managing. I can’t tell you how many papers I’ve had to write already, but I seem to be doing something right because I have straight A’s,” you beam.

“Straight A’s huh? You always were a sharp thing.” He’s looking at you with those deep honey eyes, gently smiling as he admires you. A sight that makes you weak at the knees as you stare at his perfect dimples.

And those eyes. God, those pretty brown eyes. You want to drown in them. Let them grab hold of you as they drag you deeper and deeper until you suffocate under the weight of them.

“Actually, I’m at the top of my class,” you brag, nonchalantly.

Joel lets out a low whistle as he leans back in awe, giving you a once over. “‘Course you are, darlin’. Such a smart girl…” he whispers low and deep, making you bite your lower lip slowly.

There it was. That tension in the air. The way he’s looking at you makes you feel like you’re the only girl in the room. That deep smolder that puts dangerous daydreams in your mind. Hot, sticky daydreams…

The bartender breaks the tension as he sets the drinks down in front of you and walks back off without so much as a “let me know if you need anything else” line. He just walks away and helps some loud couple on the other side of the bar.

You swirl the straw around your yellow, pineapple drink and take a sip, letting the tropical taste run down your throat. It’s sweet and delicious, just how you like it.

Joel picks up his whiskey glass and takes a generous gulp. You watch as the rim of the glass kisses his lips, how he takes his tongue and runs it over the bottom of his lips, how he holds the glass tightly as the amber liquid clinks against the ice. You never wanted to be a glass as bad as you did now.

You bite your lip slowly as he puts the glass down and wipes his bottom lip with his thumb as he slowly grazes it over his lip. It’s slow, seductive, the hottest thing you had ever seen. You want to know just how soft those lips are, how good he tastes, how his calloused fingers would feel on your skin…

You shake your head and free the dirty thoughts from your mind. He’s your father’s best friend! This couldn’t happen. Ever. But fuck did you want it to. You never wanted anything as bad as this in your whole entire life. He was just so…perfect.

Last summer when your family had a party at the lake house, your friends all whispered how hot Joel was in his tight grey t-shirt and swim trunks. They’d say how built he was, how he must be great in bed, and they had called him the hottest dilf they’d ever seen. Of course they were right, but you were jealous of them. Because you wanted to be the only one that had eyes for him. You wanted him. Period. Even if he was strictly off limits.

He sits the glass down on the smooth bar top and turns back around, putting his full attention on you. “You uhhh, been seein’ anyone besides that handsy asshole lately?” he asks with darker eyes, a hint of anger on the tip of his tongue as his eyebrows furrow together.

There it was. That jealousy swirling off his tongue. Or overprotectiveness. Or possibly both. You couldn’t tell which it was.

“No, not really. Haven’t been dating much lately,” you say quietly.

“How come?” He’s curious. His eyebrows raise and he focuses intently on you, leaning in just a tad bit closer so he can hear you over the noisy crowd.

“Guess I just haven’t been interested in anyone,” you shrug, blowing it off like it isn’t a big deal, but apparently it is to him.

“Oh, but I’m sure guys are always askin’ ya out. A pretty thing like you, surely. Bet all their eyes are on ya.”

A pretty thing like you? The man just called you pretty. You swear you see stars in your eyes. The room feels dizzy as you take another drink, trying to calm your racing thoughts.

“I mean, not really,” you shake your head disagreeing.

“I don’t really believe that, you’re gorgeous. They’re missin’ out on a great girl. Just give it time. You’ll find someone worth your while.” He takes another sip of whiskey and looks at you from the corner of his eye, keeping those brown eyes only on you.

A great girl? Gorgeous?! You can’t help but feel a little disappointed when he says that you’ll find someone worth your while. You don’t want to find just someone, you want him and only him. That’s what you really want. But you need to stop mixing reality with fantasy. Joel would never let that happen. He wouldn’t disrespect your father like that or would he? You hoped he would.

“Have you finished my guitar yet?” you ask all of a sudden excited to see it. Joel was customizing your acoustic guitar and carving sunflowers into the wood. You’d asked him if he could do it because his woodwork was exceptional and you only wanted your guitar in the best hands. He said yes automatically, giving it no thought.

“I am. Just want to polish it up and then she’s all yours,” he says proudly, his smile crinkling up the edges of his mouth, exposing his adorable dimples that you love.

“Can I come see it?” you ask, almost begging with your eyes.

“Tonight?” he asks, hesitating just a bit with his voice.

“I mean, unless you have other plans,” you say, shrugging your shoulders slightly. He looks at you with a serious gaze in his eyes, and you notice his hand on his thigh slowly flex like he’s in deep thought.

Why was he hesitating? He had never hesitated around you before. But also, you’d never really been alone with him before. He’d occasionally picked you up a couple times or you’d be alone with him in the room for a few minutes at your house while your dad was grabbing something, but not in his house. Not alone, just the two of you.

He finally speaks as he runs a hand through his tousled curls, watching as they fall back into place perfectly. “No, don’t have any other plans. So, yeah. You’re welcome to come see it. I’ll have you try it out, see how you like it.”

“Maybe you can give me another lesson? It’s been awhile. You’re a great guitar teacher, best I ever had,” you smile at him, just on the edge of being flirtatious and drawing that thin line that you were about to cross.

“That so, darlin’?” he smirks, giving you butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

“Mhm,” you hum, taking another sip of your fruity drink.

“Well, glad to hear it. And we’ll see,” he says in a low voice.

He finishes up his whiskey and waits patiently for you to finish off your drink. As soon as you’re done, he pays for the drinks as the bartender takes up the tab.

“You ready to get out of here?” he asks as he stands up, pulling out his barstool.

“More than ready,” you respond as you get up and pull your denim shorts down. Joel’s eyes wander down to your tan thighs, and you swear you see that smoldering stare burning in his eyes return as he takes in the sight of your long legs. His gaze stays a few seconds too long as he quickly looks back up into your eyes, trying to play it off as he runs a hand through his thick curls slowly.

A low heat starts in your core, and you have to squeeze your legs together to ease the tension that was there. You’re already wet from seeing how your long legs affected him.

Fuck. You wanted him. Bad.

“Alright, c’mon then. Truck’s this way.” He leads you out of the busy bar as you wind your way through the crowd of people. He puts his hand on the small of your back, and you almost jolt at the action. He’d never done that before. But it feels…good. And you want his hand to continue to stay there, burning all the way down to your skin.

When you get out to the white Chevy, he unlocks the doors and then you climb into the front passenger seat. It’s nice and clean in here and smells like him. That woodsy pine smell that you love just lingering in the air. It makes you a little dizzy.

After he buckles his seatbelt, he puts the key in the ignition and then the truck rumbles lightly, the engine roaring to life. Ghost plays softly on the radio as the volume is turned low. You played Joel one of their songs a while ago and then he got hooked on them. You had to applaud yourself for getting him into your taste of music. Maybe one of these days he’d take you to their concert.

“I see you’re still listening to Ghost?” you ask with raised brows as you look over at him, laughing. He’s holding the steering wheel tight as he drives down the busy city streets, paying close attention to where he’s going.

“‘Course. Can’t believe you got me into them,” he says as he shakes his head, a gentle smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

“Well, you can’t deny they’re good. I mean, come on. Tobias is a musical genius,” you go on, getting lost in the song that’s playing on the speakers.

“No, you’re right. He’s good. Wouldn’t mind seein’ them if they ever decided to come to Austin,” he replies as he turns a corner, rotating the steering wheel sharp as his large hands grip around the leather. You watch the way his knuckles grasp the steering wheel strongly, wishing you could feel those hands on your body instead.

“Would you take me?” you ask quietly, blurring the lines of a boundary you shouldn’t cross.

His jaw slightly flexes as he flicks his eyes over to you. “If you’d wanna go, I’d take ya.” He looks back at the road before you respond.

“Really?” you ask shocked, not expecting that answer.

“Mhm. Might be fun,” he hums.

You sit back in your seat and smile out your passenger side window triumphantly as you watch the glow of the evening city lights pass by in a blur. This was nice. Having a little alone time with Joel. You didn’t think it’d go anywhere, but you were still glad you were here. With him.

Ghost’s song “Spillways” comes on next, and your eyes go wide as you jolt forward, reaching for the volume so you can turn it up. “I love this song!” you say excitedly.

You guess Joel had the same idea because he ends up reaching for the volume too. Your hand connects with his as he brushes against the top of yours. You gasp at the contact of his rough hand and quickly pull it away.

When Joel drops his hand, it connects with a plastic water bottle in the cup holder and sends it over the edge, tumbling down your way. He quickly reaches out to catch it, but he misses as it goes spiraling to the floorboard. Instead, his hand lands right on top of your thigh as his calloused fingers connect with your smooth skin.

Your eyes go wide as you hold in a breath. His hand feels so good. Both rough and soft at the same time, somehow the two intermingling with each other. His fingers gently curl against the edge of your thigh, lingering there a few seconds too long until he quickly grabs his hand away, bringing it back to the steering wheel hurriedly like his hand is on fire.

“Shit. Sorry ‘bout that. Didn’t mean to, well. Put my hand on ya,” he says hurriedly, apologizing in a quick breath.

“It’s okay…” you say slowly, still catching your breath from what just happened.

He lets out a drawn sigh as he takes his right hand and runs it through his tousled curls, looking like he’s in pain or fighting off something deep in his mind. He slowly brings his hand back down and barely grazes the steering wheel. He slowly flexes and extends his hand, the same hand he touched you with. It’s like he just pulled his hand from boiling water, like your thigh ignited something in him. Something hot and tempting…

He brings his hand up and rakes it through his scruff, his eyes in deep thought as his eyebrows furrow together. That touch to your thigh definitely affected him. You can clearly see that. You want to test the waters and bring his hand back down to your burning thigh. Let him trail his fingers up and down your inner thigh as they tease you, as they send slick down your center…

He sighs again before speaking. “Maybe I should just take ya home,” he says undecidedly, his voice right on the edge of shakiness.

Back home? Without going to his house first? No, no, you wouldn’t let that happen. This was your chance. Your one chance to test just where this would go. And you would not go back home without at least trying your luck.

“No,” you say a little too loud, a little too demanding.

“No?” he asks, one eyebrow raised in question at the harsh words that came out of your mouth.

“I mean…I just really want to see my guitar. Please?” you beg with a pleading voice, batting your eyelashes with the most innocent expression you can muster up.

Joel does a double take at you with his hand over his mouth, deciding if he should take you home or not, and then he nods in agreement. “Alright, alright. You can come see it,” he sighs.

Yes! You were screaming in silent victory at the win. You had him eating out of the palm of your hand. You just had to play it cool and not get pushy. If he wanted to make a move, then he’d be the one to do it. You wouldn’t push him. The next steps were all on him.

He was driving with one hand now as he leaned on the driver’s side window with his elbow, his hand gently resting under his jaw. He seemed to be lost in thought about something, his eyes pierced with attention on the road. And then it was silent except for the faint hum of the stereo. An uncomfortable silence you’d rather not sit in, so you decide to start up a conversation.

“So, how’s work going?�� you ask, hoping it’ll break him of whatever intense trance he’s under.

“Busy, like usual. Got a few clients in this week, so my employees have been busy with those new projects. Have to say that I’ve been a little overwhelmed lately. Been workin’ late a lot. I feel bad cause a lot of the time I come home, Sarah’s already asleep. So I’ve been missin’ time with her. But I just hired a few more employees, so I’m hopin’ I’ll finally work some normal hours and not a ton of overtime like I have been.” He huffs out in annoyance, his forehead creasing into wrinkles as he rakes a hand over his mouth.

Poor Joel. He looks so frustrated, tired even. You slowly reach a hand out and sit it on his shoulder to show your understanding. “Hey, I’m sure Sarah understands. And I’m sorry you’ve been overworked. Hopefully things lighten up and you can get more time at home. I’m sure you’re exhausted. Especially with taking on side projects with my guitar. If I would’ve known, I wouldn’t have asked you,” you say in an apologetic voice, slowly bringing your hand back down to rest in your lap.

“No, it’s okay. I wanted to do that for ya. It’s no problem. I enjoyed working on it. And thank you, for the kind words. You always know just what to say to calm me down.” He looks over at you and gives you a small smile, nodding his head in a thank you.

“Oh, okay. And I try,” you say as you swallow.

You watch him turn on Waterlake Drive as he pulls into your neighborhood. Except you aren’t going home. Not yet anyways. You’re going to his house.

You pass your street and drive four blocks down as you turn on the dimly lit road. Houses aren’t right next to each other as each house has a big yard and their own privacy. Joel turns into his wide driveway and stops the truck, putting it into park.

Joel’s house is a big two story house that has a wraparound porch on the outside with blue shutters on the arched windows. There are two wooden rocking chairs that sit on the porch, and the yard is covered in towering oak trees. It’s a really pretty house, one that’s too big for only two people, but he fills up the space with all his projects that are lying around just waiting for him to finish.

You get out of the truck and slam the white door shut as you hear the beeping noise of Joel locking the truck. He takes out his keys and places the golden house key in the lock as he turns and opens the door.

“C’mon in,” he says as he opens the door for you, waiting for you to pass through.

You step through and make your way down the polished dark, wooden floors. Pictures of Joel and Sarah hang all along the staircase as you pass right by, heading for the living room.

The living room’s done up in tall white walls with pictures of Lake Texoma and wildlife sprawled across the side walls. A huge 70-inch flat screen sits mounted on the middle of the wall and a big cream colored couch sits in the middle of the room with a couple of leather recliners sitting a few feet apart from each other. A small, wooden side table with a luminous lamp sits next to the couch as it shines light throughout the room. And a tall, glass cabinet sits in the corner of the room that’s full of old Rock and Roll albums that both Joel and Sarah collect. It’s really homey, peaceful. You liked coming over here, even though you have only been a couple of times.

“Where’s Sarah at?” you ask, looking around the quiet house.

“She ain’t here. She’s at a friend’s for the weekend,” he responds as he walks back in from the open kitchen.

Oh. So you were all alone with him. In his house.

Fuck.

“Well, have a seat and I’ll go grab your guitar,” Joel says as he exits the room.

You take a seat in the middle of the couch and try to relax, but you’re still flustered from Joel putting his hand on your thigh. It was probably just an accident. You were probably just blowing it all out of proportion, so you needed to calm the hell down. But you’re all alone with him, and that makes heat build in the pit of your stomach.

After a couple of minutes in silence, Joel comes back into the room with your guitar in his hands. He has it flipped to where you can’t see the front of it, keeping it a surprise for you.

“Alright, here it is. Why don’t you take a look.” He flips it around to where you can see it, and you gasp at how stunning it is.

The solid, light spruce guitar looks as if it’s shining. The strings are completely redone, and the narrow neck and body look like they have been resanded to perfection. But what catches your eye the most is the gorgeous, carved etchings in the acoustic guitar that makes patterns of sunflowers all over the bottom half of the guitar. Gold, pink, and orange fill in the flowers and a single hand painted purple butterfly sits at the top, along with a few sparkly swirls around the edges that are all sorts of bright colors.

You walk over to him and place your hand on the guitar, gently running your hand over the smooth etchings of the designs he had made for you.

Holy shit. It was incredible, the most beautiful guitar you had ever seen in your entire life.

Your mouth is agape and your eyes are wide as you take in the beauty that sits in his hands, just waiting for you to play. “Joel…I don’t even know what to say. It’s beautiful. How did you…” You’re completely speechless. You don’t know what to say.

“You like it?” he asks with a hopeful smile, his brown eyes trained on you.

“Like it? I love it!” you shout in glee.

“Good, that’s good. Glad ya do.” He says as he runs a hand through his tousled curls as one stray curl falls over his face.

God, what you would give to run your hands through those smooth curls. You could get lost in them for hours.

“Here, why don’t ya try it out?” he asks as he hands the guitar to you. You gently take the smooth guitar in your hands and walk over to the couch as you sit in the middle, right on the edge. You strum the cords as it’s perfectly tuned. Joel must’ve tuned it for you. That man was so thoughtful, you just couldn’t get enough of him.

“You remember that song I taught you?” he asks as he comes around the couch and stands a few feet away, looking at you as if he’s waiting on something.

“You mean that Nirvana song?” you ask, not exactly recalling the entire song.

“Yeah. Something In the Way. You remember it?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Umm, I think so. It’s been awhile since I played,” you reply honestly.

“Well, go on and try it. I can help ya if you get lost.”

“Right. Okay. Let me see if I remember,” you say as your voice trails off. You get your hands in position and take a deep breath as you line your fingers up just right. You start the song off slow, trying to recall all the notes to play.

You start off strong as you remember the beginning. Joel’s nodding his head in the corner as he watches you, keeping an eye on your fingers as you play. The more he watches you, the more you get nervous. You start to fumble your fingers and mess up the cords as the wrong tune comes out. You’re getting frustrated with yourself that you’re letting your dad’s best friend get you this flustered. It wasn’t fair. What was wrong with you?

“Shit,” you say with a frustrated sigh as you mess up the cords again. You scrunch your brows together and curse under your breath.

“Hey, it’s okay. You just messed up the bridge of the song. Let me show you.” He comes to sit on the couch beside you, so close that his thigh connects with yours as his muscles hug his jeans to him.

He places his left hand on yours as he positions your fingers exactly where they need to be. You bite your lip as his calloused fingers connect with yours, his thick fingers gently guiding you through the bridge. You can’t focus with him this close. He smells like whiskey and pines, a woodsy scent that’s clinging itself to you, making you dizzy from the smell.

You mess up again as you lose focus, only thinking of how good he smells and how delicious he’d taste. You’re starving for him. A hungry lioness that wants to devour her prey. And that prey is Joel.

Your right hand forgets to strum, and you mess up the entire song.

Christ. Get a hold of yourself!

“Sorry, I haven’t practiced in a few weeks. I thought I’d at least remember the entire song. It wasn’t that long ago that I was playing it,” you sigh disheartened.

“You’re doin’ fine, sweetheart. You want me to refresh ya on the song?” he says with deep brown eyes staring you down in question.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” you reply with a more upbeat tone.

“C’mere then.” He scoots his body to the back of the couch and spreads his legs as he grabs your waist and pulls you to him, sitting you down right in between his legs, right against his broad chest. His arms circle you as his hands come down on top of yours, covering them with his calloused fingers burning into yours as he positions them on the strings.

You gasp at the position you’re in. Joel had never taught you like this. Being this close, practically in his lap.

Fuck.

“You wanna go over to C and play these cords together.” He takes your fingers and strums them along the neck of the guitar, guiding your right hand to play some different notes. He takes you through the entire song slowly as he guides your fingers through every note.

“Alright, that’s good. There ya go. A little slower, right there. Good,” he murmurs as his deep breath rumbles from his chest, sending vibrations through your back.

His instructions were always so clear, so crisp as he languidly guides you with his rough hands. He was an excellent teacher, the best you’d ever had. Always so careful, so pristine, so diligent, so attentive…

His hot breath is blowing down your neck as he leans over your shoulder, his lips so painstakingly close to your skin that he could lean over and drag his lips over your neck. He scoots his hips up as he comes closer to you, so close that your back is crushed against his broad chest and his biceps are caging you in as you hold the guitar. His thighs are right up against yours as they gently squeeze your legs, making your breathing pick up at how close he is now.

He’s practically suffocating you with his tight abs and woodsy scent, letting the whiskey get you drunk from his breath breathing down your neck. It’s almost insufferable at how worked up you’re getting over him. You’re agitated, sexually frustrated at how fucking much you want to jump in his lap and pull his lips down to yours. Let him get you drunk off his whiskey taste as his tongue explores your mouth thoroughly.

He dismantles his hands from yours and coaxes you to keep going with a gentle, steady voice. “Now, you try by yourself. See if you can play it back to me.” He lets his hands fall to the sides of the couch as he stays in place, your body tucked into his tightly.

“You want me to play it myself?” you ask with hesitation in your voice.

“Mhm. Go on now. Play it for me,” he repeats.

You take a deep breath and get your hands in place, focusing on the cords. You slowly start playing the Nirvana song as the guitar strums to life. You’re getting the hang of it, finally remembering the right cords to play.

As you get further in the song, Joel sits up straighter and leans forward, his hands moving to his jeans and his lips almost brushing your neck. You keep playing, trying not to get distracted by the handsome man that sits behind you.

You’re closing in on the end of the song, just about a minute more left and then Joel interrupts your concentration. “That’s really good, darlin’. Nice and steady. You’re a fast learner. Think I could teach ya harder, more complicated songs in no time,” he replies with a low voice, making you break your train of focus.

“Oh yeah? Like what?” you ask quietly as you continue strumming along lightly, barely picking at the cords.

“Metallica, Bullet for My Valentine, Ghost, all those bands you like,” he lulls as he presses further into you, his lips dangerously close to your skin. You can feel his breath hit your collarbone. That hot, sweltering breath that you want to bask in, burn in.

“I’d like that,” you purr.

“Yeah?” he asks, digging one of his hands into the material of his jeans like he was trying to control himself.

“Yeah,” you reply, still faintly playing the guitar.

Without warning, he lifts his left hand and moves your long, beachy curls out of the way, sweeping them over your left shoulder so he has access to your neck.

He gently slides his nose up the right side of your neck, stopping right before he gets to your earlobe as he breathes in deep. “You smell like citrus and vanilla,” he groans in a deep voice as he moves his right hand to your thigh, resting it gently on the top of it.

Your eyes go wide as his fingers trail up your leg, slowly inching their way to your inner thigh as his fingers flex, running his nails up and down in steady strides, his hand ending just at the cutoff of the denim material, so close that he could lift the edges and dive his hand into darker, wetter regions.

His calloused fingers slowly flex and extend as he gently runs his fingers over your skin, making you want to come absolutely undone right there on the couch. His lips graze your skin as they trail down your neck, barely skimming the surface as you feel just how soft his lips really are. They feel magnetic as he teases you with his lips, not yet fully giving in.

You’re still playing the song, just a few seconds left before it’s over. “Doin’ so good, darlin’. Such a good little guitar player,” he purrs as his lips make contact with your skin, his mouth gently brushing up the side of your neck as you feel him sink down into you, hitting that sensitive spot that drives you crazy.

Fuck.

A wave of slick pools at your center as you squeeze your legs together, a breathless moan getting stuck in your throat. You stop playing, not able to concentrate any longer. Not when his mouth is on your neck and his fingers are pressed against your inner thigh.

“Joel,” you press, your voice coming out as clipped and desperate.

His fingers trail up to the waistband of your jean shorts as he dances his fingers up and down the denim, teasing you like he knows what he’s doing because he does know. He knows damn well what it’s doing to you. He’s working you up nice and slow. Starting that low burn in your stomach as it spreads to your center, down your thighs.

“You tell me to stop and I’ll stop,” he says in a deep, husky voice as he kisss your neck again, his fingers slowly unbuttoning the top button on your jean shorts.

Suddenly the room is too hot, the tension too thick in the air. Your breath is coming in and out like you’re about to hyperventilate and your skin is scorching at his touch. You feel your spine tingling as he grazes his lips against your jawline, his fingers slowly unzipping your shorts, getting ready to take them off.

“Don’t stop, please,” you beg as you move your hips up, slowly setting the guitar to the side as you put your hands on his knees, holding on for dear life.

“Don’t want me to stop? Want me to keep goin’? Want me to show you how else I can use my fingers?” he asks seductively, his voice low as you listen to that melodic tone.

“Yes, please. Show me,” you plead as you bite your lip in anticipation.

“Alright, I’ll show ya. Just ‘cause you asked nicely,” he says as he unzips the zipper all the way and pushes the shorts down your legs, letting them drop to the floor as he trails his fingers up and down your inner thighs, letting you squirm against him as you can’t stand the anticipation any longer.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this. How long I’ve had my eyes on you, you pretty thing,” he groans as he ghosts his hand over your center, lightly tugging at your waistband as he slowly lifts the pink lace up, sticking his thumb inside as it trails across the top, not quite yet to your dripping center where you need him the most.

“And those legs. God, those long, tan legs. So soft, so perfect,” he purrs as he trails his left hand up your thigh, letting his finger gently slide down your clothed center as it causes a hiss to come from your mouth.

“You want this?” he asks as he sinks his right hand lower, finding your slick folds as he barely puts pressure on them.

“Oh, fuck. Yes,” you groan out as you try to spread your legs further apart, your center desperate for some relief.

“Mmmm, thought so,” he murmurs, a thick, heavy breath coming from his throat.

He puts more pressure on your center and spreads your folds as he circles you slowly. You can hear the sloshing and sticky noises from your wetness and it’s making you so much more turned on, making you feral for his touch.

“Goddamn, you’re wet, darlin’. All this for me?” he asks with a smirk as he uses his other hand to slowly slide your ruined underwear to the floor, leaving you completely bare on the bottom.

He takes a good look at you as he spreads your legs over his thighs and opens you wider, exposing your dripping cunt that’s at complete mercy to Joel’s hands.

“Fuck, you’re pretty, baby,” he growls as he runs his hands up further and catches your clit as he puts more pressure into it. Circling nice and slow, building up that arousal and heat that threatens to make you come undone in just a matter of time.

“Oh, God,” you moan as you grip his thighs and dig your fingers into his jeans as you lean your back into him, his lips skimming down your jaw as he works at your clit meticulously. Feeding your arousal that’s pooling all around you as another wave of slick washes down your thighs.

“That’s it, darlin’. Gonna show ya exactly how a man should get a woman off. Want you to scream my name by the time I have you comin’. Gonna show you just how good your daddy’s best friend can finger fuck you,” he growls, a low guttural sound coming from deep in his throat. It’s primal and territorial. He’s claiming what’s his. And it’s you. And it’s hot as hell.

You let out a breathy moan as he plunges two fingers into your dripping cunt as he works hard and fast at sliding his fingers in and out of you. Up and down, back and forth as the sounds of slick and wet fingers connect, causing you to buck up your hips at the building sensation. You’re already so close and you can’t take much more. It’s too much. He’s too much.

He presss a hand down on your hips and clicks his tongue, locking you in with his grip so you’re unable to move. “You stay in place, sweetheart. I’m not lettin’ you get away just yet. You’re so close, I can feel it. The way you’re arching your back and tightening your pretty cunt around my fingers. You’re almost there, and I’m gonna make you come hard, understand?” he asks in a low, raspy voice as you feel his bulging erection growing in his jeans as you push back against it.

“Yes. Please, Joel,” you beg as you lay your head against his shoulder, looking up at the now blown out black pits of his eyes as he stares down at you with a devilish smirk on his face.

“Please what?” he smiles down, his smirk playing across the side of his mouth, making him look handsome as hell.

“Make me come,” you whisper out of breath.

“That’s all you had to say, sweetheart.”

He takes his thumb and presses down on the most sensitive spot of your clit as his index and middle fingers work at your insides, pumping in and out as the wet, sloshing noises get louder.

Your legs start to shake as he circles and circles your clit, rubbing faster and harder as your breathing picks up and a hot, burning sensation is right at the edge of spilling over. The room gets heavier and thicker as the gasping moans and heat intertwine together, making a muggy room of desire and seduction.

Your legs are shaking so much that Joel has to hook your right leg under his as his left hand holds your other one down. He’s going to make you ride out this orgasm whether you can handle it or not. The sensation is overbearing as you feel your walls start to spasm as they squeeze around his thick fingers that pump in and out of you.

“Joel, I can’t…I’m so…I’m almost…” you moan in quick, shaky breaths. Barely able to hang on any longer.

“C’mon, baby. Let go. That’s it. Want you to be a good girl and come on my fingers. Come on, almost there,” he coaxes as he speeds up his fingers and plunges deep into the spongy spot of your walls, pressing firmly on your clit in just the right spot.

You feel your insides clench up one more time around his fingers as white, hot heat fills your entire body and then your walls go slack as you feel yourself release hot liquid all over his fingers. You let your eyes roll back as you moan his name loud as the liquid continues to drip down your center and covers the inside of your thighs.

“There ya go. Such a good girl,” he purrs, his eyes bleeding into yours as you struggle to keep your eyes open.

It’s like you’re hypnotized, in a daze the way your body feels like it’s floating as Joel works you through your intense orgasm, his fingers slowly fucking up inside you as he makes sure he gets every drop of slick inside you that he can.

He takes his other arm and gently runs it up and down your thigh, easing you from your orgasm as you slowly come back to earth. He gently uncurls his fingers from inside you and brings them up to his mouth, lapping up the slick on his fingers as your eyes go wide at the provocative action. He gently runs his other hand down your arm in a comforting way and then slowly unlatches your legs from his grip.

“That was incredible…” you express with blown out pupils, your heart racing a thousand miles per hour as you sink all your weight into his chest.

Joel laughs as he pulls you into his lap and caresses your cheek, slowly pushing a strand of hair behind your ear in an affectionate way. He was being so careful with you, so gentle. You felt so safe and secure in his strong arms. It was nothing like you’d felt before with a man. Joel was one of a kind.

“Glad I could make ya feel good,” he laughs as a gentle smile curls up at his lips, his dark eyes hovering over you as his lips are just inches from yours. You want to taste them, see how good they feel on yours.

“I didn’t think…I didn’t know you were into me,” you answer quietly as you stare up at him, waiting for a reply.

He furrows his eyebrows and flexes his jaw before he speaks. “Sweetheart, I’ve liked you for quite some time now. Just didn’t know how to go about it with your dad being my best friend and all.” He sighs and lets his head drop back against the couch as he takes you with him. He rakes a hand through his messy curls and looks back up at you with another sigh. “Your father would kill me if he knew I just finger fucked his daughter.”

“He doesn’t have to know. It’s our own little secret,” you snicker as you lean your head on his chest. “Joel, I’ve liked you a long time. A very long time. I just thought you were off limits.” You shrug as you relax back into him as his arms pull you in and keep you warm.

“I mean technically I should be off limits, but…” He trails off and doesn’t finish his sentence as his eyes are in a far away place.

“But what?” You shake him out of his trance as he comes back down to reality.

“But…I can’t leave you alone now. Not after this,” he gestures to the mess on the couch that you made. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re mine now. And I don’t intend on sharing,” he growls as his dark eyes penetrate your gaze, sinking deep into you, awakening something that had been dormant till you met him.

Mine? Oh. You liked the sound of that. A lot. And it was possessive, dominant, making you hungry for more of him, needing more of him.

“Then don’t,” you breathe out in a quiet voice, your eyes intently locked on his.

He looks into your eyes with those desperate, needy honey eyes of his and then looks down at your lips, repeating the sequence a couple more times before he cups your chin and brings you in close. He presses his lips to yours as his large hands cup your face. It’s slow, romantic, everything you hoped it would be.

The kiss deepens as you part your lips and invite him in. He slides his tongue in your mouth and collides into yours as he slowly swirls and massages your tongue with his. His lips are so soft and large, feeling like they’re made just for you. And his taste.

God, he tastes so good. You can taste the hint of hazelnut coffee, a drop of whiskey, and maybe a taste of honey as his tongue invades your mouth in all the right places.

You moan into his mouth as he kisses you deeper, faster, more desperate as he grabs the back of your hair and pulls at just the right pressure. It feels good. Like he’s being dominant with you but also soft, the perfect combination.

You push your body up as you straddle his lap, feeling that tight bulge in his pants as you start to unbuckle his leather belt, desperate to get your hands on him. He puts a strong hand around your wrist and stops you before you can go any further.

“And what do ya think you’re doin’?” he asks as he lifts an eyebrow, a small smile hiding behind his serious gaze.

“I just wanted to make you feel good too,” you confess, giving him the best smirk you can muster up.

“Is that so?” he asks with a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Mhm,” you hum, using your free hand to push his broad chest back into the soft couch.

“Hmmm. Alright then, darlin’. Show me.” He lets go of your wrist and lets you pull the belt loose from his dark jeans. You slowly unzip the zipper but before you can pull down his pants, he stops you again as he cups your chin and lifts your head to look into his eyes.

“On your knees,” he growls dominantly as his eyes turn from soft brown to dark black pits as his pupils expand.

“Yes, Mr. Miller,” you reply automatically without thinking as you drop to the soft rug, getting on your knees as you place your hands on his muscular thighs.

“Just Joel, darlin’,” he reminds you. “Now, be a good girl and show me how good you can suck this cock.”

He stares down at you with seductive eyes and a large smirk painted across his face. He looks so goddamn pretty. And the way his plaid sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, exposing thick veins that cover his arms is making you even more turned on.

You waste no time and pull down his jeans and then his black briefs, freeing his erection from the combines of his pants. It plants firmly against his stomach, and you gasp at just how large he is.

Holy shit. He’s massive.

You gulp and scoot up to the edge of the couch as you bring your hand around his thick width. You start sliding your hand up and down his large length, watching as the veins in his cock wrap around him, feeling the coarse, wiry hair that blankets around the base of him, transfixed on just how big he is.

You bring your head down and slowly lick the tip as you let your tongue swirl around all his sensitive spots, still using your hand to slide up and down him as precum bubbles over the edge. You savour the taste of him as you let the salty flavor run down your throat all hot and sticky like. You lick the tip again, this time looking at him seductively under your long eyelashes as you let your hand work up and down his largeness.

“Fuck,” he moans under his breath as you stare up at him, his black pupils blown out as he watches you devour him inch by inch.

You test your limits and take him further into your mouth, going down as far as you can until you gag on him, slowly coming back up for air before you go back down again.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty sucking my cock, darlin’,” he groans as a grabs the back of your hair as you go down on him again, this time taking him deeper, going past your limits. You choke on him as you feel your throat constrict around his length, feeling just how thick he is as the salty taste runs down your throat like warm cider.

He fists your hair and works you up and down him as you gag and choke on his delicious cock. Your eyes water as you feel saliva pool in your mouth and run down your chin as he takes you as far as you can go, speeding up his actions as he fucks your mouth over and over again. Up and down, deeper and deeper. Driving you fucking crazy.

“That’s a good fucking girl,” he growls, sending a wave of slick between your legs as you continue deep throating him.

He loves every second of it, and you love it just as much as he does. You love feeling his cock slide in and out of your mouth, love tasting him, love the way his eyebrows furrow together and the deep, breathless moans he makes from his throat as you make him come to life. And you love how possessive he gets with it. It’s so fucking hot. You revel in making him yours, making him want you, making him feel like he’s the most special man in the world, because he is. He’s so special, and now he’s yours. All yours.

He deep throats you one more time as he hits the back of your throat, making you audibly gag around him as your throat closes up around him, squeezing him as your saliva encases his thick cock.

“Goddamn!” he moans loudly as he pulls out of your throat as the saliva sticks to the end of his hard cock, running a trail of glistening saliva from his tip to your chin as you wipe the tears from your eyes. You miss one as it runs down your face.

Joel leans forward and catches it, wiping it away with his thumb as he cleans the saliva from your chin, making sure you don’t have a spot left on your face.

“You didn’t come,” you say quietly, unsure of why he stopped you.

He bites his bottom lip before answering you back. “I know, darlin’. That’s ’cause I’m not done with you yet.” His eyes turn into deep black pits again as he yanks you up from the floor and straddles you across his lap, the tip of his cock just inches from your weeping entrance as you’re soaked with arousal.

“Want you to ride me, sweetheart. Now get on top of me,” he instructs. He lifts your hips as he moves the tip of his cock to your drenched entrance, just barely slipping in, waiting for you to go down.

“Lower for me,” he demands, his voice raspy and deep. You slowly lower yourself down on him as he presses up deeper into you, expanding your walls right to the point of pain. You wince but keep your face controlled as you start to ride him nice and slow, feeling just how thick he is as you squeeze him, starting to move faster as you go up and down, up and down. Feeling every single flutter that your walls make as his large length caves inside you.

You groan and press your forehead against his as you straddle and ride him, digging your thighs into his sides as he grabs the back of your ass and squeezes, sending slick running down your center. The room starts to grow too hot, the stickiness and humidity mixing in with your fully aroused state. You can feel your hair stick to your face as the sweat shimmers across your forehead. You speed up the intensity, feeling every single detail of his cock as he rams up inside you time and time again. Making you nearly drown in your own slick.

“Fuck,” you groan as you continue riding him, building up that sweet orgasm that’s about to be set free. The sticky, slick noise from him sliding in and out of you is too much. He’s too much, too sexy, too fucking good for you. You need a release, you need to come. This was too much. “Joellllll,” you moan as you draw out the last syllable of his name, begging for him to make you come.

“That’s it, darlin’. Taking me so fucking good like the good girl you are. You’re almost there. I can feel it,” he says seductively, making you bite your lip at how sexy his bedroom voice is. It’s low, deep, provocative. A noise that could make you come just at the sound of. He’s electric.

“Want some assistance, darlin’?” he asks with low, drawn out words. Setting your insides on fire.

“Mhmm,” you hum out, trying your best to keep yourself in one piece.

He grabs the back of your hair and pulls you to his mouth as he devours you, biting your lower lip and shoving his tongue inside your mouth as he twirls around yours, setting your taste buds on fire. Drowning in his coffee and whiskey taste, wanting to drink him down until you can’t taste anything except him. Only him.

He takes control and places his hands on your hips as he bucks up inside you, thrusting deeper and deeper until he’s bottoming out, hitting you so deep that you swear you start seeing stars.

You place your hands around his neck and hold tight, your fingers wrapping around the curls that reach the back of his head as you claw at him, running your nails through his scalp. He moans at the sensation and continues plunging into you with his massiveness taking over you entirely, feeling every vibration through your body as you’re on cloud nine. You’re almost there, almost…

“You on birth control?” he asks with gritted teeth, a low growl leaving his throat as he thrusts inside you, sinking his nails into your sides.

“Mhm,” you choke out a moan, barely able to answer.

“Mmmm that’s good. Real good. Gonna spill all inside ya then. Is that what you want, darlin’? Want my cum inside that pretty pussy?” he asks with a gritted, clipped tone that’s full of arousal.

“Yes, please. Fuck,” you moan as he places his thumb on the throbbing bud of your clit, pressing just enough to pull that building orgasm out of you as you clench around his thick cock and feel white, hot heat slide over you.

You throw your head back and moan his name, feeling yourself unclench from him as you spill all down his long length. You feel your fingertips go tingly, the sensation making its way all the way down to your toes as they curl, feeling your heart speed up as the palpitations set in. It’s the most intense orgasm you ever had in your entire life, and you know then that you will never be able to get Joel out of your head. You’re hooked like a shot of espresso. Needing to consume it every day to be able to function properly. He’s like a drug. Nightshade. Deadly but intoxicating, a taste you can’t resist. A taste you crave, want, desire.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Your face is so fucking pretty when you cum, when you’re saying my name,” he growls as he emphasizes the my. Making it sound like you belonged to him now. And fuck you want that more than anything.

He thrusts inside you faster, harder as he knits his eyebrows together, getting caught in deep concentration as his breaths become ragged, unhinged. “You’re so tight, feels so good inside ya. You’re squeezing me so hard. Goddamn, you pretty thing,” he groans as he digs his fingers into your hips, pounding once, twice, three more times before he holds you down on his thighs and rolls his eyes up to look into yours with those black pits staring up at you hungrily.

He opens his mouth and moans as he spills his cum inside you. You feel the sticky, hot mess coat your walls as he thrusts once more, getting his fill of you entirely. Your breathing is rough and winded as you chase down your high from the intense fucking.

He keeps you there, staying inside you for just a few minutes as you both collect your breath and just stare at each other, taking in each other’s ecstasy and heat as the tension doesn’t disperse from the room. It stays like a hot, summer day with the humidity intensifying. It’s like you’re in the middle of a rainforest. It’s so hot, so suffocating, so muggy. And you can see that you’re caught in the middle of a hard spot. Alone with the stalking panther that wants to eat you alive. And that panther is Joel. He catches you, and now you’re all his for the taking. A complete menace at best.

He finally slides out of you as you feel his seed start to drip from you as it drops against his thighs, mixing in with the sweat and lust from each other. He falls to his back on the couch and brings you with him as he pulls you into his arms and brings your legs over his as he gently drags his fingers up and down them, soothing you from the hot cardio you had just taken part in.

“Fuck,” he says in a deep voice as he kisses the top of your head and brings his hand under your chin, lifting it so he can look into your eyes. “You’re so fucking pretty, baby. And your eyes. They’re so beautiful, they’re practically sparkling for me right now, just like diamonds.” Your breath catches as he gazes over you, admiring your beauty and charm as he caresses your cheek affectionately.

Oh, God. You’re in trouble. You’re falling hard and fast for your dad’s best friend. What a mess.

“Joel,” you say with admiration as you rake your fingers through his salt and pepper scruff, acquiring a slight groan from deep in his throat from the light touch. “I like you. A lot,” you breathe as you hold back tears from streaming over. You don’t want this to be over. It couldn’t be. You wouldn’t let it be.

“Oh, darlin’. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this. To have you, to hold you, to feel just how soft your skin really was. Been holdin’ back a long time. But something snapped in me tonight. When I saw you with that guy. I wanted to wring his fucking neck,” he spits as his eyes go cold. You gasp at the intensity of him. Of his words. He really does like you. This is real, it’s all real. And you just can’t believe it.

You run your hand down his broad chest as he pulls you closer, and you lean into him as your head rests on his chest, feeling every ragged breath go in and out as his chest rises and falls in waves.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to leave you alone now, darlin’. Not after this,” he says, holding you tight as he strokes your cheek, pulling back another strand of hair behind your ear softly.

“Then don’t,” you breathe, hope filling your gut as you cling to his bulky, tight arms.

He lets out a soft chuckle as he plays with your soft curls, running his hand through your hair gently as it sends a wave of warmth and serotonin over you, completely calming you of any anxiety. “I don’t intend to, darlin’. You’re all mine,” he coos.

Mine. There it was again. You were his and it felt so right.

“Joel?”

“Hmm?” he hums as the vibrations in his chest reverberate around you like a thunderstorm but calming you entirely.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” you ask in a quiet, meek voice.

“‘Course, sweetheart. I wasn’t planning on takin’ ya home. Not after this. You’re stayin’ with me.” He cups your chin and slowly brings his lips down on yours as you drink him in nice and slow, fully embracing the taste of him that was now a part of you.

When you finally break apart, you look up at him with a worried look on your face, your anxiety returning in full force like a galloping horse about to collide with another.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asks with furrowed eyebrows and soft brown eyes that are searching your face, trying to find what was wrong.

“My dad….what if he somehow finds out that we…what if…”

He puts his thumb on your lips and hushes you, a gentle soothing sound coming from his mouth. “We can worry about that another day. He ain’t gonna find out,” he reassures you.

The unsettled feeling dwells in the pit of your stomach, and the worried expression doesn’t leave your face as you continue looking at him. A tear threatening to pool at the corner of your eye, but you hold it in. Not wanting to worry Joel with your anxious thoughts.

“Hey, you trust me?” he asks as he looks deep in your eyes, his brown eyes honing in like a hawk.

“Yes, of course,” you nod.

He takes your hand in his as he clasps his thick fingers around yours. “Then believe me when I say this will work out. I’m not lettin’ ya go, darlin’. I’m gonna make sure your daddy doesn’t find out. He ain’t gonna suspect a thing.”

You nod up at him, slowly pulling yourself back together. “Okay,” you agree.

“Alright. Now, let’s go get you cleaned up in the shower and get ya to bed. You must be exhausted,” he says as he pulls you up from the couch, picking you up bridal style and carrying you up the stairs to his bathroom.

After the warm shower, you get right in his bed with him. Wrapped up in his strong arms with one of his large plaid shirts hugging your body as you breathe in his pine and woodsy scent, enveloping yourself entirely in him as you memorize exactly what he smells like. Wanting to remember this moment as the best night of your life.

You fall asleep shortly as you listen to the faint sound of his breathing as you lay against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around you. And that night you only dream of brown eyes, broad arms, thick fingers, and wet, sticky sensations. But one thing still clings to the back of your mind as you dream of Joel. Just one thing that you can’t quite shake as it interrupts your sweet, wet dreams of Joel. And that one thing is your dad.

Fuck. You just had mind blowing sex with your daddy’s best friend.

Tags: @janaispunk @studioghibelli @cinnamongorll @callmecath1 @joelalorian @dugiioh @ladamari68 @amyispxnk @pedrostories @tuquoquebrute

Part 2

#joel miller #joel x female reader #joel miller smut #joel the last of us #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #dom!joel miller #dbf!joel #protective joel #new series #joel miller masterlist #joel x reader #joel x you #Spotify #joel miller pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrohub #pedrostories #pedro pascal

[kinzis-writing]

Better than Revenge | M.R [3]

Going along with a plan was easy right? After all it was fake, and basically just a show for everyone to watch. So, why was Y/N starting to question if the plan was a good idea.

Pairing(s): Mattheo Riddle x Y/N Nettleby, Ex! Theodore Nott x Y/N Nettleby.

Warning(s): mentions of alcohol, partying, smoking, mentions of cheating, soft! Mattheo, mentions of loss of virginity. Plot twist maybe?

iii. "you knew you won, so what’s the point of keeping score"

Chapter Two

*Not edited (grammar or spell check), I'll go back and do that later.*

It had been 4 weeks since Y/N and Mattheo had started their plan. A whole month of spending time together and now acting like a couple without labels. It was safe to say that all of Hogwarts was in shock to see the two become a couple. Of course a select few, like the golden trio, knew exactly what was happening. Everyone else, was surprised that Mattheo had tied himself down to one girl, that his attention had solely been on Y/N Nettlby and her Gryffindor glory.

"That's not right," Y/N stated softly as she got up from her chair that was across from Mattheo and moved to one that was beside of him. She quietly pulled the seat closer to him before marking out what he had done and fixed it in a way he'd understand. "It should be easier like that. You can remember the spell easier that way." she had moved her gaze back up to his face noticing that he was watching her instead of what she wrote the whole time.

"I don't need help," he admitted sheepishly. "I'm behind but I know the stuff." he shrugged as he laid his quil down on the parchment in front of him.

"Then why have me tutor you?" She asked him quietly, her eyes never leaving his. Y/N thought they were having a sweet moment, something that happened often between them. Her line was starting to blur between faux moments and real moments.

"have to keep my reputation, love." he spoke breaking the moment that she thought they were having.

Y/N scoffed lightly pulling back from their close proximity, "Then why did you agree to this plan? It definitely ruins your rep." she told him as she crossed her arms.

Mattheo shrugged as he leaned back in his seat, "Doesn't ruin it, I haven't been with anyone in awhile." he mumbled nonchalantly as he returned his gaze to his homework.

Y/N ignored his comment and carefully got up and made her way back to her original seat. She was gathering her items and shoving them in her bag as it was getting time head back to the common room, the prefects and filch would be out patrolling the halls and no one wanted to lose house points.

"hey, there's a party tonight in the Slytherin common room." Mattheo started as he grabbed his work and stood up following the girl's lead. "You should come, it'll prove how "serious" this is." He explained as he looped her arm over the Gryffindor's shoulder.

Y/N rolled her eyes slightly and looked up at the boy as they left the library. "I don't fancy losing house points trying to sneak into my fake boyfriend's party." she muttered as they arrived to the portrait.

The Slytherin boy rolled his eyes, "I'll be right here waiting for you in thirty minutes." He told her before squeezing her hand and walking back down towards the Slytherin's common room.

The Gryffindor girl groaned before saying the password and walking into the common room. Quickly going up to the dormitories to change into a party dress. She knew which one she was going to wear, it would work perfectly for a Slytherin party. Her mother had bought her an emerald green dress, every year. So she wouldn’t forget what family she came from.

She had never attended Slytherin’s parties with Theodore, so this was all new to her. Not knowing how casual or dressed up to be. She laid her dress on the bed before heading towards the bathroom and doing her hair and makeup in the way that seemed fit.

When houses three parties, everyone was invited. It was the only time that houses willingly hung out together, but they stilled seemed to stay in their groups. Unless, they were planning on hooking up for the night. Y/N knew that she would probably run into Ginny and a few other Gryffindors there. Hermione was less likely to be there, often going to the library or being into her studies.

Y/N had rushed down the stairs and out of the dormitories before she could be stopped. Not wanting to talk to anyone right now, just wanting to get to Mattheo and head to the dreaded party.

“You ready?” Y/N asked Mattheo once she noticed his figure outside of the Gryffindor common room. “I wasn’t sure exactly what to wear.” Mattheo’s eyes looked her up and down, almost like he was soaking in what she looked like. “I can go change if I’m underdressed or overdressed?” She suggested when he still had yet to say anything.

“No,” he shook his head. His hand slipping into hers instinctively. “You look great, just didn’t expect you to be in green s’all.” He mumbled clearing his throat after.

Mattheo had successfully gotten them to the Slytherin common room without running into anyone on the way. Y/N rolled her eyes at the common room password before she was led through the silencing spell barrier. The smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke enveloped her senses, the music pounding off the walls. Multiple houses joined together, either dancing, playing games, or making out.

“This isn’t my scene.” Y/N mumbled to Mattheo as they pushed their way through some people and headed towards the corner.

The Riddle boy gave her hand a small squeeze as they ended up in the corner. There were couches and seats there, his friend group all gathered around each other. Draco was with Pansy, Enzo sat with Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle sat on one, and Theo and his new girlfriend together.

“Finally, started to think you bailed.” Draco spoke to Mattheo. Mattheo rolled his eyes, sitting down and gently putting Y/N in his lap and helping her get comfortable.

“Now, cousin, you know me better than that.” Mattheo replied, pulling Y/N into him so help her relax a bit better. It had been a month of this and she still could not wrap her head around it. He casually placed his hand on her knee while the other one was resting on the couch arm behind her back.

Pansy whispered something to Draco before standing up, “I’m going to get drinks,” she announced before turning around and facing the new couple. “Y/N why don’t you come with me?” She asked.

Y/N glanced at Mattheo, who nodded, before she stood up and gave her a small smile. She agreed following the Slytherin girl through the crowd. “Hope I didn’t come off strong,” Pansy laughed a bit. “We don’t know each other and seeing as you’ve settled Mattheo down. I think we should hang out some.”

Y/N gave a soft but nervous smile unsure of what to say. “Yeah, it just happened.” She shrugged to the Slytherin girl as they fixed drinks.

“Not your scene?” Pansy asked when she noticed the Gryffindor looking around. “Is that why you never came around with Theo?”

Y/N shrugged thinking about the question for a minute. “I just, my relationship with Theo was different than mine and Mattheo’s.” She spoke honestly. There was major differences, the main one being one was real and the other is fake. To prove to everyone that she was fine. To be honest, it was working well. She had no feelings for Theodore left, all she felt was a bit of betrayal but she was officially over it.

“I’ve never seen him look at anyone like that.” Pansy spoke as she nodded over to the couches the pair came from. Y/N turned and was met with Mattheo’s gaze on her from across the room. She sent him a small smile before turning back to face Pansy. “You must be special to him.”

Y/N let out a small laugh with the shake of her head. “I think we’re just having fun right now.” She lied as she helped Pansy grab the boys drinks.

“You might want to tell him that.” She suggested before leading the way back over to the friend group. She handed Draco and Enzo their drinks before sitting down with hers. Y/N carefully held the other drink in her hand out to Mattheo but settling back down on his lap. “I approve, Matt.” The Parkinson girl spoke looking between the newest couple of the group. “It’s good to have a new girl around.”

Y/N gave her a small smile as Mattheo smirked. He placed a soft kiss on the side of her head before taking a drink of the alcohol. Theodore's eyes burned through the couple as they engaged in conversation with Draco, Pansy, and Enzo. His head could not wrap around his best friend being with his ex-girlfriend, and her hanging out with his friends. She never wanted anything to do with his friends when they were together, and he did not see how Mattheo got her to hang out with them.

"What do you say?" Blaise broke Theo out of his thoughts as everyone was staring at the Nott boy and waiting for his reply. "You up for truth or dare?"

"Course." Theodore nodded as his arm settled around his new girlfriend.

Y/N leaned back against the arm rest of the couch again to get comfortable. She had heard stories of how deep their games get, and her anxiety was growing. She did not know what to expect or what she should watch out for. Enzo got up and got an empty alcohol bottle and placed it on the table in front of them. Pansy had volunteered to go first, so she gave the bottle a spin.

"Y/N," She smiled. "truth or dare?"

Y/N gave the girl a nervous smile before feeling Mattheo give her knee a squeeze. "dare." she spoke confidently with all the eyes on her.

"You're new here," Pansy started her sentence with a thoughtful look on her face. "I'll go easy... for now. I dare you to tell Mattheo the thing that annoys you the most about him."

Y/N shrugged and turned to look at the guy who's lap she was sat on. "Easy, the smoking." She spoke nonchalantly wrapping her arm around the back of his neck. "It's easy to ignore but that's it." Her hand instinctively playing with the hair on the back of his head.

Y/N leaned forward and twisted the bottle, and it stopped on Enzo. "Dare." The boy spoke up before the Nettleby girl could ask.

"Go ask that Ravenclaw girl out." Y/N dared Enzo knowing how he felt about his potions partner. Enzo gave the girl a look before standing up and going over to the group of girls that his crush was in. He talked to them and left smiling.

Enzo went to grab the bottle and give it a spin, when the last two of the friend group joined, sitting beside Mattheo and Y/N. Sean Nettleby and his girlfriend had decided to join their friends. After making sure that the newly added couple was playing, Enzo gave the bottle a spin and the game continued from there.

The game continued for many more rounds, until it was Veronica's, who Y/N had learned was Theo's new girlfriends name, turn. The girl had been snarky and rude towards the Nettlby girl all night, but everyone seemed to ignore it besides Mattheo, Sean, and Enzo. Veronica gave the bottle a good spin, the bottle unfortunately landing on Y/N when it stopped.

Y/N pressed her nerves down while she noticed the Slytherin's eyes darken and a smirk grow on her face. "Y/N, truth or dare." She asked in a sickly sweet tone.

Sean's eyes narrowed at the girl beside of him slightly, sensing that she was playing at a game. Mattheo's arms wrapped tighter around the girl in his lap, while Y/N's stomach churned thinking of her choices. "truth." she answered, with what she thought was a safer answer than dare.

"What's the real reason you and Theo broke up?" She asked with a smirk.

Y/N's raised her eyebrows in question before shrugging, "Theo broke up with me after he cheated on me with you." She muttered not showing any of her emotions.

Veronica's smirk grew, if that was even possible. "The real reason though? You're excluding the fact that you're a prude." She spoke noticing how Y/N's emotionless state dropped. "How I could fulfill his needs that you refused to give him."

"Roni-" Theo spoke causing the girl to turn her attention to her boyfriend.

"I'm done with this." Y/N muttered before standing up and hurriedly making her way through the crowd to get out of the Slytherin common room as fast as possible.

Enzo glanced around the group noticing Draco and Blaise sniggering about. Probably the fact that it was obvious that the innocent, good girl, Gryffindor, was just that. Also, the fact that her brother is her polar opposite. "Do you pride yourself on taking someone's boyfriend?" Enzo asked with a hint of anger in his voice.

Veronica shrugged, her same smirk on her face that she had worn for the last few moments. No one knew how to carry on the conversation, Enzo was angry, Mattheo had ran off, Sean was fixing to fight Theo for his choices, and Blaise, Draco, and Pansy needed to get over themselves.

Y/N was almost to the Gryffindor common room when she heard her name being called. Instead of turning around to face the voice, she kept walking hoping they would give up. She knew Mattheo though, he never stopped until he got what he wanted.

"Y/N!" He spoke again, this time within reach to grab her arm and stop her from walking. "Would you stop walking and let me speak with you."

Y/N stopped walking, the tears in her eyes almost falling as she turned around to look at the Riddle boy. "I do not want to talk to anyone right now, especially you." she whispered as the boy stepped closer.

"You didn't tell him?" Mattheo asked quietly, not wanting to startle the girl who was on the verge of breaking down.

Y/N shook her head as she tried to blink the tears of embarrassment away. "How do you tell your boyfriend that you felt comfortable enough to lose your virginity to your best friend, but you don't want to do that with him?" She asked carefully not knowing how he would take the information. "I played it off like I had never done anything before."

Mattheo searched the girl's face for something, anything, that would let him know how she felt. "You could have told him the truth."

Y/N shook her head, her anxiety becoming worse. "No one knows our past, Teo." She whispered bringing back his old nickname that he loved. "I thought you hated me after because you turned a cold shoulder, so I just played it off like nothing happened."

Mattheo shook his head, trying to go over every move he made after that. "I didn't hate you." he muttered.

"Could've fooled me." Y/N mumbled before turning around without another word and going to the Gryffindor common room, leaving a slightly hurt Mattheo behind.

Part four

Tag list: @yoichiislovie @justhavingsomefun1 @julesandro @prongsprincessworld @bruher @mattiesgirl @lafrone

#imagines #requests are open #mattheo riddle series #mattheo riddle x oc #mattheo riddle x gryffindor #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #harry potter imagines #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #harry potter series #gryffindor #gryffindor x slytherin #slytherin #mattheo riddle better than revenge series #better than revenge series #tag list #tag list is open #imagine requests #requests open #golden trio x reader #golden trio era #requests #requests are welcome

[faintedlcve]

False Fronts II

part 2 of 4

pairing: Theodore Nott x fem!reader

warnings: kissing, pda, swearing, fake dating, not proof read (as usual) and my writing

there will probably be a part 3 (if im feeling nice).

summary: Being asked to fake date someone to get a petty ex off their back is the worst possible way of being friend-zoned. You, however, were willing to take any chances to get as close as you could to Theodore Nott.

the lovely lovely dividers have been created by @cafekitsune. here is the post with these exact dividers!

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4: fluff angst

Theodore's departing silhouette dissolved into the Hogwarts corridor, leaving you with conflicting emotions. A grin tugged at your lips—Theo had asked you to team up in this wild charade! But there was also this weird flutter in your stomach. Fake dating Theo? This was something straight out of a fanfic plot. (i wonder why?)

The agreed time rolled around, and you headed to the spot Theodore suggested—a tucked-away alcove away from the Hogwarts chaos. Your heart raced a little faster as you spotted him already waiting, a mix of uncertainty and determination in his expression.

"Hey," you said, aiming for a casual tone despite the bundle of nerves inside.

Theodore turned, a faint smile on his lips as he nodded. "Hey, thanks for showing up."

There was this strange tension between you, the weight of the plan hanging in the air. It was like the beginning of an unknown adventure, the kind that either makes you or breaks you.

Sitting down, you both seemed at a loss for where to start.

"So," you ventured, breaking the silence, "how are we playing this out?"

Theodore leaned in, lowering his voice. "Let's keep it simple. Act like we're together, maybe hold hands when people are around. Just enough to sell it to Jess."

A jolt of nerves mixed with a weird kind of excitement surged within you. Pretending to be Theo's other half felt like stepping into a storybook—exciting but also a tad scary.

"Sure," you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt. "We'll make it work."

Theodore nodded a grateful glint in his eyes. "Thanks, Y/N. I owe you for this."

And so it began. There were these subtle gestures—his hand grazing yours, the occasional kiss on your cheek—but it never ventured beyond that. Just enough to plant a seed of jealousy in Jess.

Yet, it ignited a storm of butterflies within you. You knew it was all a mistake, falling for him in this make-believe charade. You knew it was a terrible idea. You knew it. Yet, each touch, each gentle kiss left you breathless, wanting more.

You reminded yourself it was all a facade, a performance meant to fool others. But for some reason, it felt real. You wished it were genuine. The line between what was fake and what you craved to be real blurred with every tender moment, making you yearn for something that was never meant to be. It all felt real. You wanted it to be real.

The question was, did he?

You knew diving into a conversation about his actual feelings wasn't on the table. He'd made it pretty clear: this was all part of the fake dating deal. Plus, the last thing you wanted was to weird him out by dropping the "Do you like me for real?" bomb.

If he caught wind of you wanting something more than acting, he might bail and rope someone else into this mess, leaving all the effort you'd poured into getting close to Theo in the dust. And you weren't about to let that happen.

Not now. Not ever.

Days turned into weeks, and the fake dating charade continued. You and Theodore fell into a rhythm, a seamless blend of staged affection and genuine camaraderie. It was a delicate dance, playing the part of an infatuated couple while maintaining the facade for Jess's benefit.

But amidst the pretense, something unexpected happened—the lines between what was feigned and what felt real started to blur. The stolen glances, the shared laughs, the moments when the act seemed to dissolve into something unscripted—all of it stirred a confusing mix of emotions within you.

Theodore's touches became less rehearsed, more natural, and each time he'd take your hand or wrap his arm around you, it felt oddly comforting. There was a warmth in his gestures that made them seem genuine.

Thing is, as much as you reminded yourself it was all a big show, there were moments when it felt too genuine, too sincere to be just an act. Those brief touches and the laughter that felt more genuine than staged—it all made you wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was something brewing beyond the act you'd both signed up for.

Theodore escorted you towards your dorm, the air heavy with an unspoken tension that lingered between you two. The quiet stroll through the Hogwarts corridors felt different tonight—moments of comfortable silence interjected by furtive glances and lingering touches.

As the entrance to your dorm loomed closer, you felt the weight of an impending confession pressing against your chest. This might be the moment—the perfect opportunity to spill everything you'd been holding back.

"Theo, I have to tell you something" You blurted out.

"Hm?" He questioned.

"I- I lik-" You began.

"Stop right there bitch. Get the fuck away from MY boyfriend." a voice shouted.

It was Jess.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡*:☆

hello! finished reading this? read part 3 next!

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #theodore nott #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott fanfiction #theo nott x reader #theo nott fic #theo nott #theodore nott x you #slytherin boys #theodore nott fic #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x y/n #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x you #theo nott fluff #fake dating #theodore nott fake dating #theodore nott angst #lorenzo zurzolo #niccolo govender #baby #daddy uh i mean theodore #luce posts 💌

[jjngkook7]

Choices (6)

Werewolf Au! Jungkook x Reader / Enemies to Lovers [Angst and mature content. Not smut but almost smut.]

Summary: Jungkook finally found her. His mate. His lifelong partner. But she’s a human. Does he have to stay with her or can he stick it to whatever and whoever binds mates together and make his own decision? ***THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR PATIENCE. I PROMISE I WON'T MAKE YOU WAIT THIS LONG AGAIN***

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5

You rang in the new year with some coworkers. The night was a blur of lights, laughter and music. Despite being a lightweight, you didn’t get as drunk as you thought, in fact, you were barely tipsy. It was hard to have fun when your reality didn’t even feel real. You had all the ingredients to drink your heart out: you met who was supposed to be your soulmate, you find out that mythical creatures are real and your best friend in the whole world has been hiding all of this from you for a year. To add more salt to the wound, Jennie spent Christmas and New Years with the pack. Sad wasn’t quite the right word for how you felt, maybe confused or disoriented? You had been in a haze since the last time you saw everyone trying to figure out if the past weeks were real or not.

After Jungkook dropped you back off at the cabin, Namjoon decided that you should leave for your safety. Apparently having someone as unpredictable as Jungkook free from his chains while his mate was hanging out with other men was not a good idea even after you told Namjoon that Jungkook actually saved your life. Namjoon took you home that night and advised you to keep your distance for a while. He seemed sad when he dropped you off and truth be told, you were kind of sad too. You had a fondness for Namjoon because he was the one that made you feel sane and safe throughout this whole journey. You would miss your friendship with him and everyone else.

Your phone pinged, reeling you out of your thoughts. You thew it towards the edge of your bed when you saw that it was just one of those annoying marketing texts. Your eyes then glided towards the Christmas card on your nightstand as it did almost everyday; it was the one artifact you had proving that everything you went through was real. Everyone from the pack had signed the card, all except for one. You reached for the card and ran your fingertips over the glitter covered snowman on the front page. I wonder how he’s doing. Embarrassed didn’t even begin to explain how you felt. You felt like a fool, an actual idiot for still wondering about Jungkook’s wellbeing when he couldn’t even write his name on a stupid Christmas card for you-he probably laughed when Namjoon asked him to contribute. With one last read through of the card, you placed it under your bed and made never thinking about Jungkook again as your new year’s resolution.

__________________________________

Maybe because there was no one to talk to about your new year’s resolution in full but getting over Jungkook was pretty easy. You hadn’t spoken to anyone in the pack in over a month and the memories of them become less and less clear by the day. Was it Jin that helped you with your injuries or Yoongi? Was it Namjoon that drove you home or did Hoseok tag along also? And did you actually feel sparks when Jungkook touched you or was it just your imagination? Either way, it felt good to feel less crazy. It was only when you and Jennie hung out that everything would hit you like a freight train. Seeing her was bittersweet. You were so happy to spend time with your best friend despite your guys’ schedule but you couldn’t help this building of resentment in your chest at the same time. Anger and guilt gnawed at you so raw that replying to her texts took hours to do. Luckily, both of you were so busy with work that seeing each other was few and far between.

One thing you had a really hard time forgetting was the night you had to leave. After Jungkook asked you to wait, you sat by his side and watched him catch his breath. It was hard seeing someone in so much pain despite the lack of physical wounds. Once Jungkook seemed to have a grip on himself, he told you to sit as far away from him as possible while he sat on the other side of the cabin. You remembered feeling like you were naked under his red gaze, like he could see every single movement you made. Jungkook told you that it wasn’t safe for you to leave yet and that you had to wait for a little bit. Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook couldn’t have you leave just yet. A wolf in the midst of his heat finally meeting his mate after being kept away from them was like a ticking time bomb. Jungkook needed to engulf your scent and calm his mind before letting you go back to a cabin full of fully grown men. He was surprised that you complied and that you kept your composure. Sure, he noticed your trembling hands and shortness of breath but you kept calm and collected. Jungkook needed to direct his attention to something else-anything- and so the small talk began. It started off with what you did for work and ended with Jungkook shit talking his pack mates. When Jungkook felt sane enough, he insisted he carry you home to be safe. You remember flinching when a low growl escaped from Jungkook when you hooked your arms around his neck. You felt his body shake as you wrapped your legs around his waist. It took a minute before he was able to hoist you up and get going. You remembered him being gentle and asking if you were all right the whole way back to the cabin. You remembered him letting you down a couple meters in front of the cabin because Namjoon would’ve killed him if he saw Jungkook and you together.

“Are you going to be okay?” you asked.

Jungkook offered you a nod, his bright red eyes doing the soft smile on his face an injustice. Perhaps it was the darkness playing tricks on your eyesight but Jungkook looked bigger. His muscles were more toned, his hair was thicker and his overall aura was just larger. You felt embarrassed drooling over his physique like some school girl despite almost dying a couple hours ago. Namjoon’s voice from inside the cabin redirected your guys’ attention and you suddenly remembered that it was below freezing outside.

“I-I’m going to go inside now,” you reached out your hand to give Jungkook’s arm a reassuring squeeze but retracted remembering how much he ordered you to not touch him, “goodnight.”

To your surprise, Jungkook reached out instead and caressed your face with both his hands. You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch pathetically. Jungkook left out an exhale of both relief and frustration. Every ounce of control he had was quickly slipping through his fingers. He was teetering towards the edge of danger with you right now. You opened your eyes to see Jungkook watching you but not like he did before. Just a couple of hours ago, you felt like a prey under his gaze. This time, he was looking at you like how Taehyung looked at Jennie.

“Do me a favor?” he asked, his voice almost hoarse.

You nodded and scrunched your eyebrows. What could you possibly do for him? Jungkook felt his stomach drop knowing what he was going to ask of you. The warmth that happened when you guys touched intensified as Jungkook brought your body closer to his. He knew he only had a couple minutes to relish your touch before his heat and his reality would take over again.

“I need you to forget about this night,” he finally said. Although subtle, he felt your pressure lift from his hands. “I need you to forget about me, about my pack, about everything. Make it like I never even existed, and I’ll do the same. Trust me, it’s for the best.”

As cruel as his words already were, Jungkook then sealed it by pressing his lips against yours. You couldn’t help but gasp which, he happily swallowed. A surge of electricity pulsed through you as he deepened the kiss. The heat from his body immediately making you forget how cold it was. As gentle as he was, you remembered his body began to tremble and the slight sting against your bottom lip when his fangs unsheathed.

And that was all you wanted to remember. Perhaps you were a masochist. Of all the memories you chose to forget, you just couldn’t let go of this particular one; no one ever really completes their new year’s resolution anyways. You knew you would never get an answer but it didn’t matter anymore. Every time Jennie saw you, she'd try to ask about Jungkook but you would either change the subject or give her vague answers. You didn't want to know more than you already did.

“Goodnight, Sooyoung!” you chimed.

“Goodnight,” Sooyoung replied with a sympathetic smile, “you should leave soon.”

“I will!” you lied, “see you tomorrow morning.”

Sooyoung hovered by your desk for a few more seconds before heading towards the elevator. It was common for you to stay after work but not for this long. You waved at Sooyoung until the elevator doors finally closed. When you were certain that there was no one else in the office, you closed the document you were pretending to work on and slumped against your chair. A tired sigh left your mouth as you roughly ran your hands against your face. Just as you were accepting your new reality, the past week and a half had you re-questioning your sanity. Being at home recently felt eerie. You were constantly checking over your shoulder and hesitant to sleep with your bedroom door closed. The nightmares you were having didn’t help either. Night after night, you would see the same things in your dream: rogue wolves chasing you and a Jungkook bleeding out to top it off. You’d jolt awake in the middle of the night and could only fall back asleep after taking melatonin. With the nightmares being a daily occurrence, the melatonin had stopped taking effect and you were left trying to calm your racing heart on your own. To your disdain, the only place you felt safe was at work. Your office was high up on the 25th floor and security here was pretty strict. You concluded that your paranoia was from these nightmares but those moments when you felt like someone was watching you felt too real to blame on lack of sleep. You put your head down against your desk and stared at the time displayed on your computer. It was nearing 7:45 and you promised yourself that you’d leave at 8pm. As the minutes ticked by, you tried to come up with some sort of game plan to combat another inevitable sleepless night.

____________________________________

“Jungkook!” Taehyung shouted as he kicked over a half conscious rogue towards Jungkook.

Jungkook caught it mid air and slammed it down onto the ground before ripping its head off. With that being the last rogue, Jungkook and pack were able to finally catch their breath as they examined the graveyard of torn limbs by their feet.

“Where the fuck are they coming from?” Hoseok panted.

Namjoons eyes wavered as he studied the carcasses on the ground. He had no answer for Hoseok. Rogue wolves attack here and there but never had he seen such great numbers. Their appearance usually coincided with the phases of the moon but recently, their attacks had been random and in hoards. He did notice that they foolishly always went for Jungkook first. As strong as Jungkook was, he was not invincible. Namjoon had also taken note of how haggard and tired his pack was from fighting almost everyday. If they didn't find an answer anytime soon, he feared that he would lose a pack member.

Everyone turned their head towards the trees when they heard a branch snap. In the distance, Jungkook caught a flash of white teeth and familiar pitch black eyes.

“I got it!” Jungkook shouted, before running after the rogue.

He was fucking exhausted. He really hoped that this was the last one because he was losing strength and fast. These recent attacks only fuelled his anger because if he had mated with someone of his species, he would’ve tripled in strength by now.

A yelp emitted from the rogue when Jungkook finally caught up and grabbed its legs. Jungkook swung the rogue against a tree, breaking its ribs in the process. As the creature whimpered against the ground, Jungkook winced when he saw that it was laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Jungkook sneered, angry that it was still breathing.

The creature seemed to be mumbling a familiar word over and over again but Jungkook couldn’t figure out what it was saying. Another yelp came out from the rogue as Jungkook kicked its face in. He crouched down and grabbed the creature by its scruff.

“Speak up!” He demanded.

Despite his impressive experience fighting rogues, Jungkook still had a hard time getting used to the disturbing ways these creatures moved and laughed even though they were near death. This rogue had its jaw kicked in and its tongue was hanging out due to the lack of the bottom half of its face. The grip Jungkook had on it tightened when it continued mumbling. Just as he was about to lose his patience trying to unscramble the creatures jargon, Jungkook finally put together what it was mumbling. The rogue seemed to notice the shift in Jungkook’s eyes and laughed even louder.

“I bet she’d taste so good too.” were its last words before Jungkook ripped out its heart.

Jungkook had to get back to Namjoon and let him know what happened.

It was mumbling your name this whole time.

The living room was quiet as the pack tended to their wounds. Jin went around ensuring that everyone was treating their injuries correctly even if it was just a little scratch.

"You need to clean it." Jin sighed, looking at the deep cut on Jungkook's forearm. The cut was his own fault. As Jungkook was ripping the rogues heart out, his arm got caught in the creatures ribs and it carved his arm as he was pulling it out of its chest.

"Just leave it, Jin." Jungkook grumbled, swatting Jin's worried hands away.

Namjoon and Jin exchanged glances, both annoyed and worried about the youngest member but Namjoon didn't have time to adhere to Jungkook's attitude. Thankfully, no one was seriously hurt but who knew when the rogues would come back to attack again.

"So," Yoongi said, sucking his teeth in the process, "anyone here knows what they want?"

Jungkook wanted to hear his members theories before jumping the gun because maybe the rogue was toying with Jungkook or maybe it wasn't even saying your name at all. The silence that followed confirmed Jungkook's fear. No matter what Jungkook did, he just couldn't seem to get away from you. All eyes were on Jungkook when he suddenly cursed.

"They're after her." Jungkook said, his fingers pinching his nose bridge.

"Who?" Jimin asked.

"His mate." Taehyung's grin only grew when Jungkook glared at him.

Amidst Jimin's surprise and the symphony of swear words thrown back and forth between the members, Namjoon felt his heart sink as a wave of deja vu hit him. The younger one failed to notice the sadness in the leaders eyes as he berated his pack mates who were teasing him with swear words.

"They're not after her," Namjoon finally spoke, breaking the fight, "Jungkook, they're after you and then her. They know that you'd go after them if they kill her before you mark her. They're after you first to get you out of the picture. As long as she's unmated, they're going to keep coming."

Namjoon felt a lump grow in his throat as realization washed over each member. All eyes slowly turned towards Jungkook who had his fists balled up. The pressure from his fists made his blood seep out from the cut on his forearm. Why did he have to deal with this? How come you were still intertwined with him despite being away for over a month? What did he have to fucking do to get rid of you for good?

"T-this could be different, Namjoon." Jungkook stammered, his mind moving too quick for his mouth to catch up.

"Jungkook listen to me," Namjoon said picking his words carefully as he approached Jungkook, "only you can stop this. We can't fend them off forever."

Jungkook grit his teeth and felt his breath labour. This wasn't fair. He didn't choose this and it seemed like life wasn't planning on giving him too many options either. Jungkook began to replay the conversation he had with Namjoon after he first discovered you. The blood from Jungkook's cut was now staining his pants as he remembered what Namjoon said about how strong humans were. What a fucking joke.

"I am stopping this! Who here in this room has killed more rogues than me? Huh? Who?!" Jungkook bursted.

Jungkook's brown eyes had now turned into a dark red shade.

"Killing them one will send ten. Killing ten will send a hundred. Killing a hundred will send a thousand. You have the responsibility to save her life," Namjoon argued tiredly, "look at your brothers. Look at you! We are not immortal, Jungkook."

Jungkook jumped up from his seat and grabbed his hair. His ears were now ringing. His responsibility?! He hadn't even marked you yet, why were you now his responsibility? He couldn't help but laugh aloud by how absurd everything and everyone was sounding. You had stolen what seemed like everything away from him-his freedom, his bodily functions and now even his morals. You kept taking from him and now you were his responsibility?

"Jungkook please," Jin pleaded, "can you please put your own ego aside and make a good choice for once in your life?"

Jungkook turned towards Jin and snarled, "Remind me who saved your fucking life just 20 minutes ago? If I hadn't ran to you in time, you would've been shredd-"

"Enough!" Namjoon yelled, "Whether you like it or not, her life is in your hand-"

"I will not be responsible for her death like you were for Irene!"

Within a second, Jungkook was slammed against the wall. His right cheek was throbbing and his nose bloodied. He wasn't sure if he had finished his sentence but the right hook from Namjoon answered that question for him. Before Jungkook could orient himself, Namjoon grabbed Jungkook by the neck and trapped him against the wall again.

"You will never utter her name in that context again do you understand?" Namjoon asked through gritted teeth.

Jungkook licked his lower lip, the taste of his own blood filling his mouth as he did.

"Do you understand?!" Namjoon bellowed, shaking Jungkook.

"Y-yes." Jungkook finally answered.

The older one finally let go but not without giving Jungkook one final shove.

"Have a better attitude tomorrow morning or you fend for yourself from now on." Namjoon threatened before disappearing into his study.

Jungkook kept his eyes on the floor as his members stood around staring at him. Jungkook could only count on one hand how many times he felt ashamed in life, he would now have to count on two hands after tonight. His members didn't say a word to him as they retreated back to their rooms one by one. Taehyung lingered for a little bit longer. He wanted to ring Jungkook out but decided to leave him to sulk all alone. Jungkook watched his blood drip from his nose onto his sweater. Would dying by some disgusting creatures be better than surrendering to fate? One thing was for sure, Jungkook would rather die with his brothers than alone. He turned his head towards the end of the hallway where Namjoon's study was. The searing pain from his broken nose was nothing compared to what he just said to Namjoon.

Namjoon had his head buried in his hands as Jungkook's words echoed in his mind. It had been years since Irene's death but it still pained him like it happened yesterday. He knew the younger one was speaking out of anger but if he only knew how much Namjoon did blame himself.

"You know, I couldn't even mourn her after she died. I think I finally did after three months." Namjoon spoke.

Jungkook figured it was probably the smell from all his blood that alerted Namjoon to his presence. He cautiously walked towards Namjoon and sat in front of him.

"Her death was the first out of the two times I ever regretted taking leadership of our pack." Namjoon continued, looking up to meet the younger ones sad gaze.

"And the second?" Jungkook asked, his voice barely audible.

"Tonight." Namjoon replied.

Jungkook let the uncomfortable silence engulf him. He stared at the picture of Irene resting on the bookshelf behind Namjoon and felt remorse like he had never before. Irene was Namjoon's mate. For years, Namjoon refused to mark her not because he didn't want to-because he did-but because he was afraid of bringing Irene in his world. He thought the best way to protect her was to keep her away. Jungkook had never seen someone love another person the way Namjoon loved Irene. He doted on her and gave her anything she ever wanted, everything except for one. Irene had begged and begged Namjoon to make her his official mate but he always rejected her advances. By the time Namjoon decided to turn a new leaf, it was too late. If Namjoon had marked her, he would've been stronger and maybe could've fought off the pack of rogues. That day, Jungkook and the pack were out hunting. When they came back, the cabin they had built had been ripped apart. The image of Namjoon carrying Irene's bloody body in his arms as he wept and called out her name was forever imprinted in Jungkook's brain. Namjoon's physical state was no better and if they hadn't returned when they did, they would've lost their leader too. Irene was one of the strongest people Jungkook knew. She was brave, unwavering and quick witted. Before Jin met Mina, it was Irene nursing everyone back to health after a fight and braving the forest to find medicine. Irene was strong and she was human.

"I'm really sorry. I didn't mean what I said and I shouldn't have said that," Jungkook apologized tearing his eyes away from Irene, "I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

Namjoon smiled. Although brash and somewhat arrogant, Jungkook always meant well at the end of the day. He couldn't even count how many brawls Jungkook got into because someone slightly badmouthed a member of the pack.

"Please, your life will probably end in the next few minutes with the amount of blood you're losing. Just let me punch the other side of your face and we can call it even." Namjoon joked.

Jungkook scoffed and wiped his nose. He really was losing a lot of blood.

"Jungkook, I couldn't save Irene but you have a chance here. Learning to love someone...don't you think that's better than losing someone," Namjoon wanted to laugh when he saw Jungkook flinch at the word 'love', "and if you can't do it for her, do it for me. For Irene."

Jungkook swallowed the lump in his throat, "I-I don't know if I can mark her right away, you have to give me some time."

Namjoon nodded understandingly.

"But I promise," Jungkook sucked in a breath, "I'll protect her with my life."

#bts fanfic #jungkook werewolf #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts werewolf au #bts smut #bts #jungkook smut #jungkook #yoongi #jimin #namjoon #taehyung #hoseok #jin #bts x reader #jungkook werewolf au #choices

[overallrry]

harry styles “enemies to lovers” fics

✩ all credit to the authors ✩

series

teenage dirtbag (jarofstyles)

series masterlist

He’s just a teenage dirtbag and she hates to love it. Or, Fratrry!

aster (moonchildstyles)

1 2 3 4 5

harry is a tattoo and y/n just wants to know if he's like this all the time or if he just doesn't like her

young american (0nlythrowharrybeaux)

series masterlist

Y/N get’s offered the opportunity of a lifetime, an apprenticeship at English Graffiti, world renowned tattoo artist, Eddie Chan’s first American shop. However, an unnerving rivalry brews between her and one of Eddie’s old apprentices and best artists, Harry Styles.

roxy's record store (0nlythrowharrybeaux)

series masterlist

Harry and Y/N don’t get along despite their tight knit friend group. Amidst the fights and make-ups some lines get blurred and they just need to figure out what they want and where they stand.

Harry and Y/N are in the same ballet class, and they hate each other (jawllines)

1 2 3 4

“Hey, maybe it will do you both some good! You especially –” 

“Niall.” 

“– it might help your obsession with her.” 

“Niall,” Harry repeats, a warning this time, “I’m not obsessed with her, I can’t fucking stand her. This is not going to work,” he shook his head, “There’s no way we’ll be able to stomach each other for more than ten minutes at a time, how the hell are we supposed to practice together?” 

Niall shrugged, “Have you ever considered, I don’t know, not being a dick to her?” 

reluctant hearts (duhstyles)

series masterlist

in which Harry and y/n are forced to work together on a project despite their mutual hatred for one another. 

checkmate (enthusiasticharry)

series masterlist

After being taught by her grandfather at a young age how to play chess, YN finds herself being catapulted into a world where she rises to stardom as one of the greatest chess players of all time. As she rises to stardom, YN starts to play more tournaments, and doing so, she finds herself meeting the world renowned chess player: Harry Styles. YN finds him arrogant and has no time for him, until she does. She learns that he has all the time in the world for her, and she finally starts lets her walls down to him. The two of them go through the trials and tribulations of trying to navigate a new relationship that they won’t admit to being in, as well as the trials and tribulations of chess championships and the stress that can entail on ones mind. 

one shots

gurugirl

tell me you hate me

#enemies to lovers harry styles #harry styles enemies to lovers #harry styles fic recs #harry styles

[screamin-abt-haikyuu]

You're jealous but you can't do anything because you're not dating him (Part 7) - Wakatoshi Ushijima

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Pairing: Ushijima x Fem! reader

Genre: Angst to fluff

Warnings: none, really? Reader calls him Toshi.

Requested by: @ushisrever

A/N: Can't believe I posted the last update to this more than two years ago. Has it really been that long???? The incomplete series has been bothering me for two years now lmao. Didn't think I'd ever find a fitting scenario for Ushiwaka but thanks to @dira333 helping me sound off some ideas, I was able to get that perfect "snap!" you get when you fit a puzzle piece in perfectly. Gave me enough brain juice to write this out before going back into hibernation.

Serving you some fresh, hot angst and then some lol. Enjoy the burn and then the healing. For someone who was as far removed from Ushiwaka (emotionally) as one can, writing this actually made me see him in a new light. Loved writing him. Hopefully, it stays as true to his canon nature as it can. Hopefully I don't trash this before it's out💀 but if you're reading this, it's good lol.

It feels like the entire Shiratorizawa is at the gates of the school.

"I can't believe she's coming to our school!"

"AAA I can't stop imagining how she'll look in our school uniform."

"Do you think she already has a boyfriend? Maybe I have a chance?"

"I don't know about a boyfriend but you certainly don't have a chance with her."

"Must you always be so cruel?!"

"If you think a star child actor who has made it so big in the industry is going to date a simpleton like you, you're delusional."

You sigh, annoyed, as you try to make your way through the babbling crowd. You're already late for your morning classes and you couldn't care any less about Hoshiko Nakamura. Or any celebrity for that matter.

"In fact, I don't think any boy in this school has a chance with her. Hmm... except maybe Ushiwaka? Not that he'd be interested in dating her anyway. Sometimes I feel like that guy doesn't have any emotions at all."

Your ears perk up at the Ace's name.

Wakatoshi Ushijima has become somewhat of a celebrity at school ever since he was selected for the under 19 representative for Japan in the Youth World Championship.

He was already well known as the formidable volleyball player who crushes any team that he takes on. However, his serious and stoic nature has kept most people from approaching him. Till now, at least.

The girl was right. Wakatoshi wouldn't even think about dating anyone. You seem fairly sure of that. However, the suggestion still leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

You're wrong about him not having any emotions you think as you finally break free from the crowd and sprint towards your classroom.

You've known Wakatoshi for as long as you can remember. You remember when his family moved into the house next to yours when you were just little kids. You remember watching the reserved, determined figure of the boy practicing volleyball all by himself in the nearby park. You remember going up to him and offering to play with him. Out of all these memories, the most vivid of them all was the way his eyes subtly lit up when you said you wanted to play with him.

Time has blurred into a haze since then. Even though you both went to different schools all through junior and middle school years, you both kept alive the tradition of playing volleyball together in park.

"You should come to Shiratorizawa," he had said that fateful day. You both were in the last year of middle school. It was a beautiful evening as you both walked back home from the park, the setting sun throwing hues of red and gold across the partially cloudy sky.

"That's not in my hands. I tried in middle school, remember? I want Shiratorizawa but Shiratorizawa doesn't seem to want me," you said, kicking a pebble on the road. Funny how I could say the same about you.

"That was three years ago. You have grown," he said without pause.

"We'll see. I don't want to get my hopes too high. You know just as well as I do that they give preference to athletes over normal students like me. Casual volleyball games with you are just about as sporty as I get," you said as you reached out to open the gate to your home.

You turned to say goodbye to him and found him looking at you, his expression more serious than usual.

"It's not about athleticism."

"Shiratorizawa only accepts the best. Be it volleyball or anything else. I believe you fit into that category. You should come," he says, looking straight into your eyes.

Your stomach flutters. How could he have so much faith in you? There is no doubt that he believes in you because Wakatoshi Ushijima always means what he says. Almost 5 years of knowing him had taught you that. You still found it hard to digest, though.

"I'll try my best, I promise."

"I know you will."

"Class, please give a warm welcome your new classmate, Hoshiko Nakamura!"

You can't help but gawk at her. Saying she is pretty would be a severe understatement. If she looks pretty on screen, it is nothing compared to what she looks like off screen. You look at your desk partner to see if he is thinking the same. Wakatoshi, however, seems to simply be listening to the teacher.

"Miss Nakamura, I'm sure you will have no problem settling in here. To kind of help you settle in this new environment, I was thinking of seating you next to Ushijima as I believe you two have met before at some of the national events."

The teacher might as well have thrown a bus at you and it would have felt just about the same as you do now.

Hoshiko's face lights up. "That would be great. Wakatoshi-kun has always been a delight to be with. Thank you for having me," she says and bows.

Did she just call him by his first name?

"Ah, Y/N, sorry for springing this on you so suddenly. I wanted to get a hold of you before morning class but couldn't. I hope it's not a problem," the teacher says.

You force a polite smile. "It's not a problem at all," you say and start packing your bag.

Hoshiko walks up to the desk and waits patiently for you to gather your stuff, thanking you again.

Your legs feel heavy as you take the empty seat diagonal to them in the adjacent row.

I'm panicking for no reason. They just know each other from an event. It makes sense to make her sit with a familiar and safe person, given her popularity. Yes, Wakatoshi is definitely the ideal choice in this scenario. He is not someone who would be creepy in any sense. He's also strong and intimidating so it would keep the creeps away. It's fine. It'll be fine. Nothing is going to happen between them... right?

"Wakatoshi-kun, I'm so glad I got to sit next to you," she says, smiling at him, speaking loud enough for people sitting nearby to hear.

"Actually, if I'm being honest, when I decided to come back to my hometown to complete my studies, I knew I wanted to go to Shiratorizawa immediately," she continues.

"Of course. Shiratorizawa is the best school in the prefecture. It's only natural to want to study here," Ushijima says, completely seriously.

Hoshiko blushes. "Ah... that is not what I meant... nevermind," she says, causing the guy behind them to burst into laughter.

It seems like the hollow sensation growing in your stomach is here to stay.

It has been two months since the day Hoshiko joined your school. With Ushijima going to school earlier than usual and practicing late into the night for the Inter High preliminaries, he hasn't been able to spend much time with you lately. Normally, this wouldn't have bothered you because you could see him in class everyday but with Hoshiko now taking your place, you barely get to say more than hi to him.

However, with the prelims now over and the upcoming week-long break ahead, you're hoping to get some one-on-one time with him once again. All these years with him have made him such an intrinsic part of your daily life that it feels like something big is missing when he's not around. To the world, Wakatoshi Ushijima might be a lot of things. But to you, Wakatoshi Ushijima is home. He is comfort. He is strength. He is someone that you know like the back of your own hand. He is someone that your heart always keeps coming back to. He is the only love you have ever known.

You know that he doesn't share the same feelings for you. But that doesn't stop your heart from longing for him.

The lessons for the day are over and you walk back to your class, eager to pack your bag and go home with Ushijima. You wonder if he'll want to go to the park in the evening.

"She's asking him out! She's asking him out!"

"No WAY! I am SO jealous."

A small crowd has gathered around the window and they're whispering amongst themselves as they look outside.

"Man, that Ushiwaka is so lucky! He gets to date the most beautiful girl in the entire country."

"I mean… he is in the nation's top 3 aces and an under 19 representative of Japan. Not to mention he's tall and strong and good looking. They're actually perfect for each other."

Your heart drops down to your feet.

You look out the window and find yourself looking at Hoshiko and Ushijima standing a ways away from the school building. They're in a quiet, secluded spot and Hoshiko seems to be blushing as she says something to him. You see him nod and say something in return. Hoshiko's face lights up in pure delight and even though they are at a distance, you can hear the joy in her voice.

"No way!!!! He said yes?? I thought he wasn't interested in girls!"

"Goddamn it! There goes my chance!"

You feel dizzy as you watch the two of them walk back to school together.

No. This can't be. You have always known that he doesn't like you that way. But you thought he wasn't interested in dating at all.

No. You shouldn't make any assumptions just yet. These gossip mongers are messing with your head. For all you know, he could have said yes to being in a show or something. You shouldn't despair before you hear the truth from him.

You blink back your tears and run to your class. Thankfully, it's empty. You take a few deep breaths to calm yourself and wait. Both of them soon appear in the hallway. The crowd surrounds them instantly, wanting to drown them in questions but Ushijima breaks away from them easily and walks towards the class. He comes up to you.

"Y/N. I'm sorry I won't be able to come to the park today."

It's true.

"Hoshiko and I are going to watch this new movie playing at the theatre-"

He's going on a date with her.

"Apparently it has a lot of volleyball in it-"

He's going on a date with h-

"You should join us."

Huh?

"What?"

"I figured you might like it since you play volleyball with me even though you don't play it otherwise."

What? What? What?? What is happening right now??

Ushijima patiently waits for your answer.

"Uh... Whose idea was it to go to the movie?"

"Nakamura's. Why?"

"And how did she bring up the idea?"

"Well, I was returning from the club and she asked to speak to me in private. And then she told me about the movie and if I wanted to watch it with her."

He didn't get it.

"Ah... Toshi... I'm pretty sure she was asking you out on a date."

His eyes widen with surprise.

"A... date? But she never said she had romantic feelings for me."

Could this mean...? Can I hope...?

"Well, her asking you out on the date was her way of saying it."

"I see. I didn't realise. Thank you for telling me. In that case, I should tell her my feelings for her as well."

He has feelings for her.

Your heart shatters.

You're glad that he walks out right away because you couldn't have stopped your tears from coming out even if you wanted to. You run out of the back door, desperate to get far away.

I guess I was the problem all this time. I just wasn't someone you could look at that way.

You had always known that. You had always known that he didn't feel for you the way you did. But that hadn't stopped you from falling for him. Hard. How could you have not? Eight years of knowing him... You didn't even realise when you fell for him. Loving him just came so naturally to you.

Logically, it makes sense. They make sense. She is beautiful and tall and smart. And so is he. They are the type of couple who would be featured on the cover of a magazine. Which, given their career trajectories, is bound to happen sooner or later.

But the heart doesn't care for logic and at this moment you feel like it will actually burst from the amount of pain you're feeling.

You spend the rest of the evening and the entire night crying in your room.

Morning comes and you feel worse than ever. Your head is throbbing, your nose is stuffy and your eyes are swollen. You decide to skip school. It's the last day before break anyway. Maybe this break will be good for you. It will give you some time to adjust to everything and compose yourself.

You go back to bed and sleep through the entire day.

You thought you'd feel better after getting some rest but you still feel like shit.

You drag yourself out of bed. Your entire body feels like it weighs ten times more.

Maybe a shower and some fresh air will do you good.

You head out.

No matter how much you try to think of something else, your mind keeps coming back to him. Your eyes keep searching for him. You look in the direction of his room. The curtains are open and you can see it is empty.

Of course he's not home yet. He's probably out with her again.

Even though it's barely a minute away, you feel exhausted by the time you reach the park. Thankfully, it is empty.

You sit on one of the swings and look around. Most of your memories with Ushijima are tied to this park. This is where you both have spent the majority of your last eight years together.

All the sweet memories make you tear up again.

"You didn't come to school today."

You were so lost in your head that you didn't realise when he walked up to you. You blink back your tears.

"Oh... hi. Yeah, I - I wasn't feeling very well today," you say, not meeting his eye.

"You seem upset."

He noticed.

"Oh... I'm fine. Really. It's just been a rough day. It's nothing to worry about," you say, still evading his gaze.

He sits on the swing next to you. You look to the side and see he has a volleyball in his lap.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

You quickly avert your gaze again.

"No."

"I see. Well, would you like me to distract you? Talk about something else?"

It is getting harder to keep your tears in check. You're sure your voice will crack if you speak. You just nod.

"You would've liked the movie. It wasn't as focused on volleyball as Nakamura said it would-"

Great. He's chosen the worst topic he could have talked about. You don't want to hear about his date. You need to change the topic. Quickly.

"What are you doing here?" you blurt out the one question that has been weighing on your mind ever since he came here.

"What do you mean? I came here to play volleyball with you."

"I- I mean... I thought you would spend your free time with Ho-Hoshiko from now."

"Why would I do that?"

"B- because you're d-dating her?" Your voice cracks.

"I am not dating Nakamura."

What?

"What do you mean you're not dating her? I thought you liked her. Didn't you go on a date with her yesterday?"

"I do like her. Just not romantically. And no, I went to watch the movie with Tendou. She had already bought the tickets so I bought them from her. I wanted to watch it with you but you went home. "

"But... you left to tell her your feelings for her..."

"I did. I wanted to clarify that I only feel for her as a friend. It was only thanks to you that I was able to tell her in time before I ended up hurting her unintentionally."

"I...see..."

Relief floods your heart. You suddenly feel a hundred pounds lighter. You finally gather the courage to look at him. He is looking right back at you.

"Can I ask you something?" you say, your lower lip trembling.

"Of course."

"Do you have romantic feelings for anyone?"

You instantly regret speaking up as soon as the question leaves your mouth. You know he never lies. And if he doesn't feel the same w-

"Yes. You."

You stare at him blankly.

It's subtle but his expression has changed from completely serious to something a little softer. You can't quite place what it is. Is it concern? nervousness? Adoration?

"R-really? You like me? Romantically?"

"Yes."

"Since when?"

"Ah," he rubs his chin, "I'm not sure..."

You're still having difficulty believing that any of this is real.

"You know," he continues, "After my father, you were the first person who ever wanted to play with me."

He points towards the corner of the park. "I was practicing against that wall that day when you came up to me. Do you remember?"

"Of course I remember. I can never forget that day."

"So many people have come and gone from my life but you have been with me for so long that, I guess somewhere along the way I just assumed you would stay forever. Which, I now realise, I shouldn't have."

He feels the same. He has always felt the same.

"Toshi?"

He turns to you again.

"I love you."

He breaks into a soft smile.

"I love you too."

Holyshit this was a ride. I'm glad I wrote this and I hope you guys enjoy.

Reblogs appreciated. Please do not steal or repost.

Taglist: @pinkiipeachiikeen @duckymcdoorknob @kakiwrites @ebiharachan @r0binscript I wasn't sure if you guys still want to be tagged for this series, seeing that it has been over two years so let me know if you want me to remove you from the taglist.

Check out THIS POST to know what all characters I have written for in this series.

MASTERLISTS | If you enjoy my work and want to, you can Buy me a Kofi!

#wakatoshi ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi #Haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! #ushijima x reader #wakatoshi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #wakatoshi ushijima x reader #ushiwaka #jealous series #ushijima headcanons #ushijima imagines #shiratorizawa #hq!! #haikyuu imagines #Ushijima x you

[annie115]

Roommates Part 3 (LN4 x Reader)

Summary: Here it is, sorry that it took so long!! I will try to upload more often from now on :)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Masterlist

Warnings: smut, minors dni, 18+

Word count: 1,400

Part 3

I opened the apartment door with a bag full of groceries and quickly placed it on the kitchen counter. Typical for me, I thought one bag would be enough and now it was way too heavy. I looked around the apartment to find Lando and heard his voice from the office. He was probably gaming with his friends.

The whole day I tried to keep focused on work but my head had other plans. My thoughts went back to this morning constantly, my body aching for more of Lando´s touch. There has always been a fine line between friendship and more and we blurred that line completely this morning. So what´s next? Was he thinking the same thing? Did he think about it at all? I´ve only known him for a couple of months, maybe this was nothing special to him?

I put away the groceries and went into the bedroom to change into something a little comfier and grabbed an oversized McLaren t-shirt and some short tights. On my way to the living room, I passed Lando´s room and decided to let him know that I´m home. I didn’t bother to knock since he wouldn’t hear it anyways so I just stuck my head into the room. “Lan, I´m home”, I said and he turned to me. His eyes flickered over my body for a second until his gaze reached my eyes again.

“Hey Ace, how was your day?” he asked and muted the stream. I leaned against the doorframe. “It was okay, nothing special happened”, I answered and we continued the little small talk. I tried to focus on what he said but I couldn’t stop thinking about how good he looked. He was wearing a black hoodie with the hood on his head and black sweatpants. He seemed to notice my staring. “Do I have something in my face or am I just this adorable?” he asked and smirked what made me roll my eyes. “No, but I wonder if you should get a haircut since you seem to hide your hair lately”, I stated and he laughed. “Yeah, I probably could use a trim”, he said and I chuckled. “Have you eaten?” I asked and he shook his head. “Okay, I can make something if you want? Or do you have to stick to your meal plan?” He tilted his head. “Depending on what you making”, he answered and looked back on his monitor. “Jeez, the chat is going crazy and is wondering who I´m talking to”, he said and I laughed. “Just tell them Max came over”, I said and he shook his head. “He´s in the stream, too”. I chuckled again, I knew that his fans would go crazy if they´d know that a girl was in his apartment. They knew me though since we were friends, but they were already a lot of rumours about us and we didn’t need to push them. “Whatever, uhm, I was thinking maybe those wraps you like?” I asked and his face lit up. “Yes!” he responded and I laughed before I left the room.

“This smells amazing, maybe I´ll hire you as my personal chef”, Lando hummed and hugged me from behind. He placed his head on my shoulder and I got dizzy from his scent for a second. Y/n, calm down. “Well, I hope it tastes as good as it smells”, I gave back and turned around, giving him his plate. We sat down at the table and ate in silence. The silence was loud, since we both knew what happened in this kitchen a few hours ago. I didn’t want to talk about it and I was hoping that he thought the same. “Are you going back to the stream after dinner?” I asked to break the silence. “No, I have to go to McLaren tomorrow to use the simulator so I want to get to bed early”, he answered and I nodded. He continued eating and closed his eyes. “So good”, he hummed and I chuckled.

“We can go to McLaren together tomorrow if you want”, Lando said from the bedroom and I finished brushing my teeth. “Yeah, that´d be nice”, I answered and switched off the lights in the bathroom when I entered the bedroom.

Lando sat on the edge of the bed and I gulped. He was wearing nothing but boxershorts who allowed me to see his flexed thigh muscles. “C´me here”, he whispered and grabbed my hands to pull me on his lap. He started pressing little kisses on my neck and I closed my eyes. “Couldn’t stop thinking about this morning, Ace”, he said and I hummed in agreement. My hands wandered over his bare chest and he lifted his thigh a little so that it pressed against my clothed pussy. I gasped a little and earned a smirk from him. I immediately started to move on his thigh and he cupped my ass. “Hmm, you like that? Come on show me what you want”, he said and pressed his lips against my neck to spread kisses everywhere. Little moans escaped my mouth while I moved on his thigh. “Fuck, you look so good like this”, he moaned, with every move I could feel his hard dick pressing against my leg. I grabbed his clothed cock with one hand and starting stroking it a little, not stopping my movements on his lap. He moaned and bit my neck for what he earned a groan. I will have marks tomorrow for sure.

I groaned again, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to finish like that. It felt good, incredibly so, but not enough for me to come. “What´s up baby, you think you can cum like this?” Lando asked teasingly and cooed when I shook my head. Before I could process what he was doing, he pulled my panties to the side and pushed two fingers inside of me. A pornographic noise escaped my mouth and he groaned. “Work yourself all over my fingers baby that´s it”, he moaned and I started to see white stars, before his fingers pushed me over the edge.

When my high ended I realized how tired I was. My head fell on Lando´s shoulder and he chuckled a little. “Such a good girl”, he whispered and lifted me up as if I weighed nothing, to place me on the empty side of the bed. “Get some sleep”, he said and pressed a kiss on my forehead before my mind drifted away.

„Ace, wake up”, Lando whispered and caressed my cheek a little. I hummed and opened my eyes slowly, trying to adjust them to the daylight. I realized that my alarm didn’t ring and suddenly was fully awake. “Fuck, did I oversleep?” I asked but Lando laughed and pushed me back onto the mattress. “No, we have some time”, he whispered and pressed a soft kiss on my lips. “I thought maybe you wanna return the favour of last night?” he asked and I smirked, realizing that he was pressing his morning glory against my leg. I pushed him off me, just to get on top of him. “You´re right, that would only be fair”, I gave back and he hummed while I worked my way down to his boxers, spreading little kisses on his skin. I pulled them down and licked my lips by the sight of his dick. Big and red, with a bit of precum on the tip. I looked at him and our eyes locked, while I licked from his shaft to his tip, obnoxiously slow. “Ace”, he groaned and I smirked before I started to give my full attention to his tip. His hand grabbed my hair and I stopped licking his tip just to take him in my mouth completely.

I worked my way all over his already pulsating cock, not neglecting his balls. “That´s it baby, fuck”, Lando groaned and I added my hand to stroke him. Little moans and curses escaped his mouth and I felt his high coming closer. I locked eyes with him once more and it seemed to be enough for him. With a few sloppy thrusts he finished inside my mouth. He pulled me on top of him to give me a kiss. “You´re amazing, Ace”, he said and kissed me once more. I hummed, but opened my eyes frowning. “What?” he asked and I laughed. “Did you really just wake me up to give you a blowjob?” I asked and he laughed, before he kissed the of my nose. “Yup”, he said and stood up from the bed to get into the bathroom. I shook my head in disbelief and chuckled. This could be interesting.

taglist: @leclercsluv

#lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris smut #lando norris #formula one imagine #mclaren formula 1

[millie-multifics]

Proverbial Dark Clouds • Part 3

Major John Egan x Reader

A woman finally snuck her way into the heart of eligible bachelor Major John Egan, he is all too soon reminded of why he fended off love for so long.

Warnings: Angst. Themes of war, death and violence. Heart break. Spoilers to episodes 1-4. A little bit of steam but nothing graphic.

Word Count: ~2.7k

Final part of Proverbial Dark Clouds. Thank you so much for reading!

Masterlist Part 1 Part 2

x x x

Every moment they were stuck in the Algerian sand, Bucky kept his eyes on the sky, hoping that maybe a straggling plane would come along. The sun and sand were hot, most of the men had stripped to their underclothes hoping for some relief, many thinking about their lost comrades and the prospect of an ice-cold beer.

The only thing on Bucky’s mind was you. He could picture you sitting along with the boys in the sand, hounding them about sunburns and heat sickness but you would be as undressed as your modesty would allow with sweat dripping down your brow- so in love with the fact that you both had made it through alive.

It had all been a blur, the past two weeks or so for John. Being a leader amongst his men meant he couldn’t allow himself to be effected by the disappearance of you and his friends, he couldn’t lay his pain on the shoulders of his men. It had become a morning routine to visit the infirmary. The visits had started as a daily occurrence until Buck had caught on to his pre-breakfast disappearances, but he still stopped by when he could sneak away from Gale’s watchful eye. He’d stand near the doorway, expecting you to walk by, beautiful as ever even with blood spattered on your uniform. You never did.

You quickly learned that the base was always abuzz before and following a mission. While the pilots rested as much as their minds would let them the night before, all the other personnel were preparing to bring the men home as successful and safe as possible. For you it meant one more checkup for any soldiers who were cleared to leave the infirmary, preparing a general medical kit for each plane and hundreds of smaller medical kits for each soldier, a precaution should they need to bail out of the plane.

“Is there a man you fancy on this mission?” Doctor Williams asked, earning a confused frown as you shook your head. “If you keep pacing you will wear a hole in the middle of my floor.”

To put it lightly, you were bored. All of the patients had been tended to, every other task that the doctor had requested you complete was finished and you were full of trapped energy as your body overcompensated for your lack of sleep.

“They should be arriving anytime now, put on a jumpsuit and meet them in the field.” The doctor suggested, glancing up from his paperwork as you continued to pace.

“Am I permitted to do that?”

The man shrugged, just as tired as you. “Well, I’m permitting it. It would be more of a hassle to replace this floor if you wear a divet in it.”

You watched as the planes landed one by one. Most of the men had small treatable wounds until one particular plane caught your eye. The crew worked together to lower a bloodied man from inside, the rest of the medical team quickly rushed toward them with a stretcher. You followed, working to roll up the sleeves on your jumpsuit, ready to get your hands bloodied if need be.

“What’s his name?” You asked, your feet following along with the stretcher as you moved the injured soldiers jacket away from his wound.

“Duval.”

The familiar voice had you glancing over your shoulder as the men loaded the stretcher into the truck. Those gray eyes had been ingrained in your thoughts for the past week. Recognition dawned on his features, and what you could only decipher to be distaste flashed across his face. You had been someone he was not expecting to see again, after all, England had an array of American bases and neither of you had specified your destination during your previous encounter.

“Alright Duval, let’s get you fixed up.”

After helping Doctor Williams assess and treat Duval, you had been placed in charge of treating the men with smaller, more superficial wounds. Since most of the men had smaller wounds requiring only proper cleaning, bandaging and maybe a few stitches the lineup at your station was quite lengthy. Needless to say, your lack of sleep had you on edge and when the final man sat in the chair across from you, you couldn’t help but sigh.

“Don’t sound so sad to see me, sweetheart.”

“I heard you’re the one who treated Duval on the plane?” Your fingers gently gripped his chin to turn his head to the perfect angle for proper light.

“Impressed?”

“Confused.” You dipped the clean cloth into the bowl of water, “You could treat a wound like that but not take a shower to wash this blood off your face?”

“And miss my chance to be patched up by you?” He teased, but you could see it in his eyes, the nervousness he tried to hide. With your time in the medical field you had learned to read people through their eyes and body language, an important part of your job was to detect when people were in discomfort or pain.

“Earlier, you looked at me like I was a ghost or something.”

“I was just surprised is all.” He winced from the sting as you dabbed the dried blood from his hairline, “You this heavy-handed with every soldier?”

You scoffed, “The man before you did not flinch when I put 6 stitches in his brow.”

“Are you calling me weak?” John playfully leaned away from your touch “Maybe I am weak, weak in the knees for you.”

“Do these lines usually work for you?” Your fingers paused their work, your eyes jumping from inspecting his wound to the mischievous glint in his gray eyes.

“That depends. Will you agree to have a drink with me?”

“You are infuriatingly charming, Major.”

“Please, call me John.”

He had been tense lately, slipping closer and closer to the edge. It had become clear to Buck at Dye’s 25th Mission celebration that his friend was in dire need of a break. He sent John to London for the weekend, hoping that it would ease some of the tension in his shoulders and cast away the dark cloud that hung over his head. John felt the hotel was too quiet, escaping to a local pub for some noise and a beer and when a beautiful woman had approached him to share a drink he had tried to entertain her, maybe that would help him forget about you, but when she had gone to powder her nose he had slipped out undetected.

Sometimes John had trouble sleeping before missions, he would still be tossing and turning when a runner was sent to wake them up for their briefing. Now, he had trouble sleeping every night. Nearly two months had passed since you had disappeared, still nobody had any answers of what exactly had happened, either you had died a gruesome death or become a prisoner of war. The dark truth was John wasn’t sure which one he would prefer, resting at peace like the angel you were or trapped, possibly facing cruel acts of violence every day.

When exhaustion took over and sleep was impossible to avoid, he dreamt of you. Always so beautiful, always so you- those nights caused a deep ache to spread through his chest. He almost felt silly for the whole thing, you two had not been together long but he had been so captivated by your whole being. For so long he had sworn off love, not because he did not want it, but because he was certain that he would never experience it.

You smoothed down the soft skirt of your dress, no longer accustomed to wearing such a luxury item. The dress had been gifted to you by another nurse upon hearing through the grapevine that you had a date with the handsome Major. Unbeknownst to you, that Major was the “grapevine”.

A fast moving jeep suddenly stopped in front of your billet, the sound of it skidding along the gravel road pulled your attention away from the small crease along the dresses hem. The handsome Major stepped out of the jeep, his smile grew as he took in your form. There was a glint in his eye as he approached, gently brining your the back of your hand to his lips to lay a gentle greeting kiss.

“Your carriage awaits.”

You inspected the jeep and the patiently waiting solider in the drivers seat. “Have you ordered that man to chauffeur us around this evening? Or is he doing this with his own free will?”

“Half and half,” John shrugged, leading you toward the vehicle, “But that is because I have a plan.”

“A plan?”

The Major hummed as he opened the passenger door of the Jeep, “Do you happen to know how to ride a bicycle?”

Your chauffeur dropped you off at your destination and quickly drove off into the sunset, presumably back to Thorpe Abbott before anyone realized he was gone. John led you into a quaint pub, his familiarity with the other patrons and bartender told you that he had visited it often since arriving in England. He led you to a table in the corner, leaving you by yourself momentarily while he went to get drinks.

“It feels like you are sitting a whole world away,” He gripped the edge of your chair, pulling it closer to the corner of the square table, “Much better.”

“So, what are the components of this master plan?”

“My crew is set to arrive tomorrow, if all is according to plan. Bicycles are hard to come by at Thorpe Abbott right now and I sure as hell could use one, trying to get one for a friend of mine too.” His breath brushed your face as he leaned closer, keen on hiding the next phase of his plan from any nosy patrons. “He always said that drinking leads to gambling, and where would a better place be than here?”

You gasped, feigning shock. “Major, I hope you are not planning to swindle some poor locals for their bicycles?”

“If all goes according to plan.” His charming smile returned, “But of course that is simply only a singular component of my plan, enjoying a beer and the company of a compelling lady are my highlights.”

You spent your evening tucked away in the corner, John coaxing stories from you about your past, eager to learn more about you. You were both so enthralled that neither of you had noticed your bodies slowly gravitating closer as the night went on. You were sitting on the same side of the table now, shoulder to shoulder, feet tangled together and hands lingering merely an inch apart on the table top.

“It’s getting late.” John glanced at his watch, turning his wrist to show you the face of the timepiece.

You sighed, not wanting the evening to end. “Time flies when you are having fun.”

“That it does.” He finally stopped playing coy, boldly taking your soft hand into his rough one. You felt a chill run through you as his thumb swiped over the back of your hand. “I should put in a little work on acquiring those bicycles, then get you back to base.”

You waited patiently, unsure of what his gambling entailed. What you had not expected was for John to bet another man could hit a bullseye, the target though being an apple resting on top of Johns very own head.

“John, as a medical professional I must advise you against this.” You spoke over the rowdy patrons in the pub “There has to be another way for you to acquire a bicycle, you’ll lose an eye.”

“No I won’t, I trust Tommy.” He assured, the additional beer and adrenaline now running through his blood stream providing him with extra confidence. “Now he wins this, I get both those bikes.”

“Yeah, you’re on yank.”

“And I get a kiss.” John sent you a wink as he stepped in front of the dart board. “Alright, Tommy, not my eyes. Not my eyes, Tommy. All right?”

He placed the apple on top of his head and covered his eyes with his hand, letting a big breath out. “Alright Tommy, whenever you’re ready.”

You held your breath, pulling at the skin on your fingers to keep yourself from covering your eyes as well. The possible outcomes filtered through your mind, puncture wound of the face or hand, loss of an eye; both would not have great outcomes for any pilot. You had to close your eyes as Tommy took aim.

Gasps echoed through the pub as the dart pierced skin, luckily for sake of most peoples it was the skin of the apple.

“Tommy!”

John brushed past you to hug Tommy for their victory, before circling back to pull your body into his arms. You were too shocked with the contact to return it before he retreated for one more celebrity cheer with the other patrons who had witnessed the unbelievable sight.

You gripped your dress in your hand while trying to maintain grip on the bicycles handlebar, not wanting your dress to get caught in the wheel. Only a minute after you had departed the pub, the clouds opened up and the down pour started. You had laughed in disbelief at first, just your luck to be caught in the rain on a night like this.

“Nothing but blue skies do I see,

Not in England though,

Got shitty weather and blue skies, smiling at me.”

John sung at the top of his lungs as he weaved along the road in front of you, making the most of the poor weather with his clever lyrics and self-identified singing ability.

The bikes were abandoned in the rain on the walkway to your small cabin. Against all the rules, you had invited the Major to step inside to escape the rain to say goodnight. He stood in the threshold, his confident demeanor dwindling as a near awkwardness hung by the threshold.

You were grateful that the other ladies in your cabin had been granted weekend passes, you couldn’t imagine this moment if you had five other women watching this moment like it was the next best movie.

“I enjoyed tonight.” You found a shirt abandoned on your bunk, using it to quickly dry the water droplets running down your scalp. “Despite you nearly blinding yourself for a bet.”

“Actually, I do recall the bet including a kiss.”

His words hung in the space between you. You dropped the shirt onto your bunk as he took slow steps forward, almost unsure if you were open to fulfilling the wager.

“You’re right, I think it did.” The words sounded like a whisper coming from your lips, nearly being drowned out by the sound of the heavy rain beating against the tin roof above your heads. You slowly stepped forward, closing the space between your bodies until your finger tips brushed.

“This alright, sweetheart?” His warm breath fanned your face as he asked. Your nod causing your nose to briefly rub along his before your lips connected in a slow kiss. Your hands found his hips as his snaked around to the back of your head, slowly increasing the pressure of the kiss as your body relaxed against his. The kiss had unleashed an array of feelings that continued to smolder throughout the night.

His short trip to London had done nothing to help ease the spreading darkness of his mind- 30 bombers lost.

The headline in the newspaper and his phone call to Thorpe Abbott was all he needed to solidify the fantasy he had of what he must do moving forward in this war. The only way he would make it through without losing the rest of his sanity was to find you, and now Gale with the other missing men.

The heart breaking truth was you had never made it out of your reverie, the last words gracing your thoughts was your Majors sweet whisper.

“My pleasure, sweetheart.”

x x x

@canyousmelltheflowers @mads-weasley @groovin2beats @major-john-bucky-egan @finelinetimothee @surazim @orphancains @danny-boy27 @eugenedream

#major john egan #mota fanfic #masters of the air #mota #major john egan x reader #john egan x reader #john egan #callum turner #john bucky egan

[carmyboobear]

ALEXITHYMIA CH 2: alcohol, garlic, and lipstick

Roommate AU: Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18)

ao3 link ch 1 ch 3 ch 4

Summary: Carmy can’t put into words how he feels about his roommate. It’s only been a couple months, but here he is looking forward to going home and sharing a smoke with them. That’s all it is, though. There are no underlying feelings, none at all, even if everyone around him has something to say about it. 

Or: Carmy is repressed as ever, but through the combined power of vulnerability, weed, and the horny, Carmy too can find love. 

tags for this ch: alcohol use, throwing up, semi-permanent lipstick, accidentally embarrassing carmy in front of all his coworkers

Chapter 2: alcohol, garlic, and lipstick (8k)

He doesn’t get to see them for a couple days after that night on the couch.

This is more the rhythm he’s used to—early mornings and late nights, out of the house so long he never sees them. The next several days blur together into what feels like one very, very long day. When he sleeps, he doesn’t dream. It often feels as if he didn’t sleep at all. 

Their past exchange haunts him. He catches himself slipping, lost in thoughts as he watches the pot simmer. They’ve never had any sort of conversation like that before. Sure, they didn’t really talk about anything, but…

But in that same vein, Carmy can’t stop thinking about it. He wonders if they’re thinking about it, too. The thought feels like a tangled ball of yarn in the pit of his stomach, writhing and messy. He shouldn’t be thinking about it—they’re just roommates, after all. 

He’s restlessly worried about that moment on the couch, and yet, he can’t even muster up the words as to why. 

Because if you finally say it, it’ll all be real, he thinks vaguely, somewhat hysterically to himself, and that’s where it always ends. 

Wednesday evening, he comes in from home exhausted as ever. Nothing new. He feels the strain in his wrist when he shoves his shitty front door open—obviously overdid it in the kitchen. After shoving his sneakers off, he flicks the lights on in the kitchen, and he spots a bright pink sticky note on the counter. 

Now that’s new.

He walks up to it, squinting at the pink that’s almost neon under the fluorescents. It’s a note from his roommate. 

hey carmy, it reads, scribbled on in pen. im going out with friends tonight, so I won’t be back until later + leftovers in the fridge if you want any :)

Carmy makes a small noise of acknowledgement to himself. Picks up the note, puts it back down. 

Running a hand through sweaty hair, he opens the fridge. It’s full of ingredients, perhaps far too many for a guy who barely cooks for himself. Ironically enough, it’s the one who doesn’t cook for a living who keeps the fridge stocked. There's a lot of miscellaneous sauces, near empty coffee creamers, and mysterious tupperwares.

He spots a new tupperware that has another pink sticky note on it, so he grabs that one out of the fridge. 

He pops it open. There’s condensation on the inside of the lid, and it drips onto the floor. Inside sits pasta, potatoes, chicken, onions, and peppers, all cooked into a cheap, yet harmonious meal. It’s a familiar instant pot recipe. 

It tastes familiar, too. The ingredients together taste like home. He’s not sure if it even tastes like his home, although surely his mom cooked something like this. As he stews over the flavors in his mouth, Italian seasoning, garlic, and black pepper, he wonders if maybe this apartment is starting to feel like home. 

The thought is so ridiculous he shakes his head to himself, but…

It feels warm coming home to someone. He can’t deny that he likes that feeling. Maybe he’s settling into this place more than he thought. Maybe he’s…getting more used to having a roommate than he expected.

Maybe I’ll see them tomorrow, he thinks as he stares at his dark bedroom ceiling. He’s so sleepy he can’t even help himself from thinking about them. The lethargy always goes full blast as soon as his back hits the mattress.

Graciously, he doesn’t dream when he sleeps. Unfortunately, he wakes back up again in only a matter of hours. 

When he reluctantly wakes up and squints at his phone, he sighs. 1:14 am. Slapping his phone back down on his side table, he stubbornly shuts his eyes in an attempt to go back to bed. It would’ve been too nice if his body let him sleep throughout the night. 

Then, there’s the sound of the door opening.

He listens to the familiar sound of their footsteps against their old hardwood floor. It’s admittedly a little strange—it’s usually the other way around, with Carmy coming back home so late they’re already asleep. Except for this time. 

They’re in the kitchen, he deduces, carefully listening. It’s easy to hear everything, especially in the quiet of night. As he closes his eyes again, listening, he imagines them. 

The sound of the fridge opening. No, the freezer—it always squeaks when it opens. It shuts. Yes, now that’s the fridge door. He imagines them looking into the fridge just like he was a couple of hours ago, tilting their head thoughtfully to the side. He’s not sure if they know that they do that. 

By all means, it should be disruptive, the way they’re opening and shutting cabinets in the kitchen. And yet, as he lays there, snuggled drowsily into his sheets, it starts to sound like a lullaby. He listens to them, thinking of them cooking, and he begins to drift to sleep.

“Fuck—fuck! Shit shit shit—”

There’s a sharp yelp, and Carmy’s jumping out of bed. 

If he’s being honest, he probably wasn’t actually going to fall back asleep so easily anyway. He rarely ever does. 

He stumbles into the brightly lit kitchen, dressed in sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt. The lights are so bright that he’s squinting, struggling to adjust. 

“Sorry if I woke you up, there was a roach,” they explain meekly before he can think of what to say. They’re standing there, bottle of roach killer in their hand. 

Carmy looks down. As expected, there’s a big dead roach, sitting in a pale pool of roach killer. 

“I…see.” He yawns, a big one that makes the corners of his eyes tear up. “You didn’t wake me up, I was already awake. You just got back?”

“Mhm,” they reply, reaching for some paper towels, and that’s when Carmy really notices their outfit. Black, flashy, clearly meant for a night out at a bar. Dark colors always looked good on them. Their makeup matches, dark and smudged around their eyes. Seeing them dressed up like this makes it nearly impossible to deny how much he likes looking at them. 

He in particular likes the plunging neckline on their thin shirt, dipping right down their chest.

Stop stop stop, he thinks suddenly, tearing his eyes away. He’s lucky they’re not looking at him, instead preoccupied with throwing away the roach corpse on the floor. He looks around almost a little frantically to find something, anything else to talk about.

“What’s this?” Carmy asks, peering into the pan on the stovetop. 

“I, like, really want garlic bread right now.” They lean onto the counter, looking at the pan with him. “So I was making garlic bread. But then that fucking roach came and killed my vibe.” 

This is when Carmy notices that they’re rather drunk.

“Huh,” he says. “Isn’t this, uh, just a piece of bread?”

“Oh.” They pause, lifting the bread gingerly with one finger. “Um, this is so totally a piece of bread. No butter. No nothing.” They start laughing then, leaning harder onto the counter and covering their face. “Fuck, that is so  dumb.”

“You were getting there,” he comments, unable to resist an amused smile. 

“I couldn’t find the garlic powder,” they admit, face turning into a frown. “Or, like, anything else. But I need garlic bread, Carmy. I need this.”

“We have garlic cloves,” he points out.

“You cannot expect me to mince a fuckin’ garlic right now,” they retort, motioning at him with their arms so aggressively they stumble towards him. Instinctively, he puts his hands on their shoulders, and tries not to think too hard about it. 

They’re warm, and they smell like perfume, weed, and alcohol. 

“I think you should sit.” Carmy suggests, an eyebrow raised. He doesn’t think he’s seen them this drunk before.

“Hm. Yeah. Imma do that.” They trudge over to one of their bar stools at the kitchen island, slumping onto it. Their shirt droops, revealing more skin, and Carmy pointedly looks away. There’s the sound of their forehead smacking against the counter, and then a groan. 

“Uh, you ok?” 

“I’m drunk and I want garlic bread,” they whine, flopping their arms across the counter. “But I can’t find the garlic—the garlic powder, and…I’m too stupid to make it right now,” they end in a miserable mumble. 

“I could make you some,” Carmy hears himself saying.

“...Really?” They tilt their head up to look at him, eyes big and full of wonder. “You would do that for me?”

“It’s just garlic bread,” he tries, instantly stricken with embarrassment. He hopes he’s hiding it well enough.

“But you’re making it!” They make a contented noise. “Imagine getting the best chef in the world to make you garlic bread.”

“I can do a lot better than garlic bread. Just so you know,” he says, entirely in an attempt to hide the way their praise makes him feel giddy. 

“I know.” His attempt backfires—their response is so genuine it makes him feel worse. “You could definitely do a million times better than garlic bread.”

“Maybe not quite a million, but somewhere around there,” he says, and then he starts working. 

He starts with a clove of garlic, mincing it quickly on their small wooden cutting board. He stands at the kitchen island with them, eyes flickering between the garlic and their watchful gaze. They’re still strewn across the counter, cheek pressed against the surface. 

“You literally mince garlic so good,” they mumble, eyes glued to his knife. “I wanna do it like you.” 

“I could teach you.” The garlic is chopped thin, and then scraped against the edge of his knife. “Just takes a lot of practice, really.”

“Teacher Carmy,” they say, almost like a song. They’ve got this big, dopey smile on their face that makes Carmy’s heart hurt. “Mr. Berzattooo,” they add, their smile growing more mischievous.

“I don’t think I like the sound of that,” he admits, words tinged with amusement, and they laugh. “I think we should just stick to chef.”

“Yes, chef!” They salute unnecessarily, and he chuckles. 

He takes out the butter—their nice butter, not the spread stuff. Heats it over their pan, scrapes the minced garlic into the hot butter, creating a delicious sizzle.

“You, uh, go out to a bar?” He asks, because he’s curious. It’s easier talking to them with his back turned to them, forced to face the pan. 

“Yeah, just went with a couple of friends. I wasn’t scheduled for tomorrow, so I thought a little fun would be nice. But I must say, bars are not exciting on Wednesday nights.”

“Seems like you got to have a good time anyway.” 

“Mhm, yeah. They had cheap drinks. I got so many.” They laugh. “They honestly didn’t taste that good.” 

“And you kept getting them?”

“It’s just ‘cause they were strong. Sometimes you just wanna get fucked up, y’know? Oh my god, it smells so fuckin’ good right now. What the hell are you doing?”

“It’s just butter and garlic,” he answers honestly. 

“This is the best thing ever. You are literally so nice.” The sincerity in their words is so palpable that Carmy feels his stomach twist. “Anyone would be so lucky to be with you.”

Fuck, Carmy thinks distantly. He adamantly refuses to acknowledge how this comment makes him feel.

“I dunno about that,” he replies, a safe neutral even though he can’t help the embarrassment. 

“Really?” They blow a raspberry at him. “Well, I like having you as my roommate. That’s something, right?”

Carmy’s glad he’s not facing them. He’s not sure what his expression looks like right now. 

“Well. Lucky for me, I guess.” He pauses, listening to the sizzle of the garlic. for a moment. “You’re a good roommate, too. I…didn’t know if I would like having one at all.”

“Oh yeah? You never had one before?”

“Not since culinary school, and they weren’t good.” He sighs at the memory. “But this…I like this.”

“I like it too,” they agree, almost a bit dreamily. “It’s nice not having to be by yourself all the time.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “It is.”

He turns around then, garlic bread plated and in his hand, and they gasp, hands over their mouth. 

“Carmy,” they whisper. “Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“You’re definitely drunk,” he says, smiling in endearment.

“Um, yeah. And you just made me garlic bread. To a drunk person, garlic bread is the next coming of Christ.” They slide the plate towards them, staring at it with big eyes. “And you put cheese on it!” 

“Should I not have?”

“Of course you should have!” They exclaim. “You could’ve put some shit on this I’ve never heard of and I would still eat it. You’re a wizard in the kitchen.”

“Well.” He laughs. Shakes his head. “I’m flattered?”

“You should be,” they whisper. They take a huge bite of it, resounding with a satisfying crunch. “Fuck.” They shake their head from side to side as they eat. “This is so fuckin’ yummy.”

“Good, good.” He nods, pleased. He props his elbows up on the counter, gauging their reaction.

“You are so talented,” they gush, continuing to eat urgently. “And so nice.”

Carmy knows he can’t hide the way his ears go pink. 

“Well.” He gives them a shrug he knows looks as half-hearted as it feels. “I do nice things for nice people,” he says finally, mostly because he can't just take the damned compliment.

“I'm nice people?” They repeat, so genuinely earnest that Carmy almost laughs. “That's a relief. I’m, like, so glad you think that, because I can be an annoying piece of shit sometimes.”

“Annoying?” The self deprecation surprises him. They don’t usually talk like this. “I don’t—I don’t think you’re annoying. Have I ever, uh, seemed like I—?”

“Nonono, it has nothing to do with you,” they interrupt with a hiccup, waving their hands. “I just, like, have issues.” They laugh, although Carmy’s positive there’s nothing funny about this. “And I really like you as a, as a roommate,” they stutter clumsily. “So I don’t wanna fuck it up.”

“I, I don’t think you would fuck it up.” There’s something a little unsettling about all this, something that’s putting Carmy on edge. 

“I always find a way! I just do, because, I’m—I’m not good at being a person,” they blurt out, and then there’s tears spilling all over their cheeks, streaked with black mascara. 

Shit, Carmy thinks. 

“Hey,” Carmy says softly, gentle and careful. He looks up at them, concerned eyes searching their watery ones. He wishes he had the words, but they're talking again. 

“I just can��t do anything right,” they sob, bottom lip wobbling. He’s also not sure if he’s ever seen them crying so hard. Their face is scrunched in pain, skin drenched in tears. “I, I, I can't even fucking make garlic bread!”

“You're drunk,” he reminds them, carefully. “Very drunk.”

“I'm drunk, too,” they wail, and Carmy wonders if he said the wrong thing. “I'm a drunk fuck-up! I, I'm too damaged…”

“Damaged?” He echoes. Their own brutality towards themself takes his words away, and all he can do is repeat their cruelty in disbelief.

“My whole life, I've just,” they whisper, and something about it nestles into his chest and stays there. The feeling of it is familiar. “My—my whole life, I—oh, god—” 

They stop with a sharp inhale, slapping their hand on their mouth. It’s a movement that Carmy would recognize just about anywhere.

“Shit,” he curses, and he rushes them to the bathroom. 

They’re still crying as they throw up into the toilet, apologizing profusely. Carmy tries not to look, just focusing on holding up their hair. 

“I’m sorry,” they apologize again before shoving their face back into the toilet. 

“It’s okay. It happens.”  He absentmindedly notices that he’s never touched their hair before. It’s soft—must be well taken care of. “You’re doing great right now, okay?” 

“Thank you,” they sob, tilting their head to the side to rest their cheek on the toilet seat. He lets their hair fall behind them, instead just keeping one hand on their back. “I’m really s-sorry,” they say again, eyes watery and red. 

“It’s okay,” he repeats, because it's all he can say. They seem grateful enough.

I haven’t thrown up like this since college,” they tell him miserably. “I don’t like it.” 

“Nobody likes throwing up,” he reasons, and they make a weak noise of agreement. 

“Last time, I threw up in my roommate’s bathroom—” they pause, as if fighting a wave of nausea, but it seems to pass. “And I barely missed the toilet,” they whisper, like it’s some sort of dark secret. 

“Damn.” Carmy’s not sure if he should be smiling, but he is, just a little bit. “Sounds like you were shitfaced.”

“So shitfaced,” they echo. At least they’re smiling back at him. That’s a good sign. “It was such a mess. I felt so bad.” 

“Were they mad?”

“No, they weren’t. They even cleaned it up for me.” They groan. “I felt soooo bad, Carmy. So bad. I was worried they would forever hate me for that.” 

“Well, if they weren’t mad at you, I’m sure they wouldn’t hate you for it.”

“I just really didn’t want them to hate me,” they say, and they’re looking so intently into Carmy eyes that it feels like he’s bearing his soul to them. “Are you gonna hate me?”

“I'm not gonna hate you because you're throwing up.” Their hair’s falling into their face, and he moves to tuck it behind their ear before he can think about it. Their cheeks are hot to the touch.  “Would I be doing this for someone I hate?”

“Good point,” they mumble. Carmy’s hand lingers behind their ear before moving back to the middle of their back, rubbing little circles. The touch is guiltily electric on his end. “Sometimes I just…think people are waiting for a chance to hate me.”

“I think it’s a bit too late for me to find an excuse to dislike you,” Carmy says. “But…I get it.”

“...You do?” 

“Yeah,” he says, even though he’s not sure what else to say. They’re still looking at him, clearly waiting for him to elaborate. “I’m not used to anyone caring much about me.”

“I care about you,” they whisper. “I care about you a lot.”

Silence settles between them as any words Carmy had disappear on the tip of his tongue. They just keep looking at him, their eyes gentle and searching, and he can’t tear his gaze away. He can’t tear his hand off their back, either. 

“You shouldn't,” he whispers, strangely honest. “I'm not worth it.”

“Too bad.” He can't look away from their gaze, their eyes that are infinitely knowledgeable. “If I can't care about you, you have to stop being nice to me.”

Carmy opens his mouth to protest, but he can't. They seem to know it, too, with the way a knowing smile creeps up their face.

“I don't wanna do that,” he replies finally. 

“Thought so.” Their face glows brilliantly with a smile, and it should be infuriating, but it's not. “So deal with it. Me caring about you.”

He laughs at that, because it's so stupid. 

“Stupid,” he laughs, and they laugh back, their giggles echoing into the ring of the toilet. “Y'know, I fucked up today at work.”

“Oh yeah? What happened?”

“I was cutting onions. I've done it a million times, but for some reason, I fucked it all up. Onions got all over the floor, and I had to redo it all. Well, my sous had to redo ‘em.”

He's not sure why he's mentioning this to them, or why he's even mentioning it for a second time, but he is. 

“I haven't fucked up like that in forever,” he continues, reliving the memory in the back of his brain. The knife hitting the floor, metal against linoleum. “It was stupid. I hadn't done something so fucking, stupid like that in—god knows how long.” 

That can't be the point, he thinks to himself. He can't just bring up him messing up onions just to complain about messing up onions. That's not worth anything, to him or to them. They're drunk, anyhow. Why is he bringing up his issues like this, right now?

“You're allowed to mess up on onions,” they say with surprisingly clarity. Their words carry a measured gentleness that doesn't seem possible from a drunk. “It would be crazy if you never messed up, y'know. Like, ever.”

“But it's been years,” he protests. There's a pressure building. “Years since I messed up like that. And someone had to clean up after my shit. They shouldn't have had to do that.”

“Hm…” They make a thoughtful noise. “It's not like you did it on purpose, right?”

“Of course not.”

“That's what friends are for,” they murmur. “And coworkers. Sometimes. It's ok that you messed up.”

“...” A part of Carmy wants to continue protesting, but it feels futile. “I shouldn't have brought it up, you're still drunk anyway,” he says, mostly to himself, but also because he can't stand to acknowledge it anymore.

“I don't care,” they whisper. “I like it when people talk to me about things.” Carmy feels something twist in his stomach, palpable and physical. 

“I’m probably being annoying,” he mutters, and as soon as the words come out of his mouth, he wants to bash his head in for saying something so childish. 

“No. You’re not.” They respond before he has a chance to take it back. “I want to know you, Carmy.”

“You already know me.”

“Not as much as I would like,” they mutter, eyes fluttering shut, and Carmy has no choice but to swallow the heavy truth. 

“You shouldn't fall asleep here. If you're feeling better, we need to get you into your bed.” He knows it's unfair, changing the subject like this. But he can't bear to look at it anymore than he already has. 

Luckily for him, they relent without any protest. They lean up against him as he helps them to their room. It's a bit difficult to wade through the piles of clothes on the floor, but Carmy's no better. 

“I really didn't mean to get this fucked up,” they mumble once they're laid back in bed. 

“No one does.”

“Maybe not no one,” they mutter, mostly to themself. No comment. They sigh. “What time is it?”

“Uh…2:35,” he says after a beat, searching eyes landing on their bedside analog clock.

“Motherfucker. I'm sorry. Don't you have work tomorrow?”

“I do. But…it's fine.” It's very much not fine, he has to wake up in a couple hours, and yet. Here he is, at the end of it. 

“You're sweet. You really are.” 

“I'm…not sweet,” is all he can get out, voice quiet. 

“Well, I think you're sweet to me. Taking care of me like this.” They outstretch their arms all of a sudden. “Come here? Please?”

He knows what they're asking. They've never hugged before. He’s only a hugger when it comes to family. He's seen them hug friends before, maybe, but him? Never. 

He shouldn't get closer, he really shouldn't. But he ends up doing it anyway, because he tells himself he likes the way they say please.

“Can I hug you?” They ask.

“Um,” he says. He nods.

They smile again, as brilliant as ever, and bring him into a tight hug. They smell like the mint mouthwash they insisted Carmy retrieve for them, along with their perfume.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” they say. He’s never heard their voice in his ear like this before. They wrap their arms around his neck then, and Carmy’s heart feels like it’s in his throat. 

“No problem,” he gets out, feeling a bit breathless. 

Before he can even form the next thought, they’re pressing a sleepy kiss on their cheek before flipping back down on their bed. 

Carmy feels like throwing up, but…not in a bad way.

“Good night,” they mumble, so sweet. “And thank you.”

Something in his brain shuts off after that. He walks to his room like a zombie, and he falls asleep nearly instantly. 

It turns out that going to bed at 2:30 am the night before work is not so fine at all. 

“Sorry I’m late, couldn’t sleep,” Carmy says groggily when he comes in, and everyone’s eyes are on him. They’re staring so intently like there’s something on his face. “What?”

“It’s, uh,” Sydney starts, but Richie swiftly cuts her off.

“Must’ve been a long night, eh?” Richie says with such a shit eating grin that makes Carmy pinch his eyebrows. 

“Fuck’s your deal?” Carmy bites back, gesturing at him. The length of his fuse matches the amount of sleep he got—slim to none.

“Nothing, cousin,” Richie replies, even though he’s still grinning like a mad man. “You better be telling me about it later though, got it?”

“Whatever,” Carmy mutters. It’s too early in the day to be dealing with this shit. “Just catch me up on what I missed.”

The day starts off rough, but he gets through it because he has to. Throughout the day, though, he can’t help but get the feeling that people keep looking at him when he’s not looking. Maybe it’s just his typical paranoia, but… 

“These look good,” Carmy praises. “Really good,” he reiterates, turning the delicate dessert around on its circular plate. Marcus beams, clearly pleased. It’s a small matcha cake with carefully placed layers of ganache and fruit. Carmy takes a bit of it with a fork, rolling the earthy and tangy flavors around on his tongue. 

“How is it?” Marcus asks, eyes firm on him.

“A little crumbly,” Carmy answers honestly. “Did you take my advice from last time?”

“I did,” he replies, frustration evident in his voice. “Think it’s the oven?”

“Maybe. Probably.” Carmy takes another bite. “Try a lower temp. Other than that, though, it’s excellent.”

“Thank you, chef,” Marcus says. “Means a lot.”

“Wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.” He claps Marcus on the back, short and quick. “You’ve been working hard. That’s all.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I have.” He pauses then, staring at Carmy. Just like how everyone has been all damn day. “Uh, Chef?”

“What?” He feels the impatience bubbling up in him, frustrated and confused. “People have been staring at my goddamn face all day like I got some shit on it.”

“You do,” Marcus says. “It’s not shit, though. Looks like…lipstick,” he says after a beat. 

“Lipstick?” A rock drops in his stomach. Carmy raises his hand to his face, searching. 

“On your left,” he clarifies. “By your ear.”

He rubs aggressively there, but he pulls his fingers back without any color on it.

“Did I get it?”

“Well, I thought you did.” Marcus makes a noise, thoughtful. “Guess it’s one of those permanent ones.”

“Permanent?” Carmy repeats, a little hysterical. 

“Semi permanent,” Marcus clarifies. He seems amused.

Carmy rushes into their small, shitty bathroom, getting close to the streaked mirror. He angles his head to find the stain. Sure enough, it’s right here on his cheek. It’s a dark, reddish color, in the smeared but recognizable shape of a kiss mark.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. His head feels hot. It must’ve happened last night, when they kissed him right before falling asleep. 

Semi-permanent, he hears Marcus say in the back of his head. Of course it is.

With a wet paper towel, he scrubs at the mark so hard it hurts. Even so, it remains, still clear on his pale, reddened skin. He wishes his hair was long enough to hide it.

“It’s not coming off,” he says, stressed upon returning to Marcus’ station. He hopes he doesn’t sound as hysterical as he feels. Sydney’s there too, chewing on the matcha pastry Carmy had earlier. “Why the fuck isn’t it coming off?”

“You’ll probably need a makeup wipe. I think I have some in my bag if you want one,” Sydney offers. Carmy swears she has a halo around her head. “Just a warning, though, they’re old as fuck. I haven’t worn makeup in a long time.”

“It’s fine. Can I take one?” Carmy runs a stressed hand through his hair. “Can’t believe no one fuckin’ told me. I—I fucking greeted customers like this!”

“It’s cool, Carm. At least it wasn’t a hickey,” Marcus reasons, and Carmy thinks his ears go hot. 

“Thank god,” he replies, sarcastic, and they have the nerve to laugh at him. “Shut up,” he tries, but there’s no real heat behind it. Sydney leaves and comes back with a semi-dried up makeup a minute later. 

“Don’t get mad if it doesn’t work,” Sydney states, a cautionary disclaimer. “It might be one of those that has a specific remover.”

“Are you serious?” The sigh that comes out is full of disdain. “Fuck me.”

“Day’s already almost done, if it makes it any better,” Marcus notes with a cheeky smile, and Carmy just shakes his head.

The makeup wipe doesn’t work. Carmy tries not to get mad, but maybe he does. Maybe just a little bit.

“It’ll come off with enough washes,” Sydney reassures him. Tina’s standing with her now, too, eyeing him like a spectacle. Everyone seems to be enjoying his misery. 

“Just ask your girl to get rid of it for you,” Tina says, an eyebrow raised. She raises a thumb to his cheek, rubs at the mark like a mom. “Damn. Shit’s on there.”

“They’re not—it’s not like that,” he sputters. He’s been trying to get through the day without anyone asking about it, but now that there’s some down time, there’s no stopping anyone. 

“A one night stand?” Tina guesses, eyes widening. She laughs and smacks him on the arm. “Didn’t think you had it in you, boy!”

“It’s not that, either,” Carmy stresses. He knows he’s getting overly flustered about it, but he can’t help it. His eyes flicker towards the clock. They’re closing soon. “Just forget it, okay? Please.”

He can tell from their expressions that neither of them want to forget about it, but by some stroke of luck, they’re considering letting it go. Just for now. That’s enough of a victory for now, so he’ll take it.

At least, it would’ve been a victory if Richie didn’t take that very opportunity to step into the kitchen. 

“Been trying to find you all day, bastard!” Richie hollers, slinging an arm over Carmy’s hunched shoulder. Carmy sighs, expressive in his annoyance. “Looks like this baby’s finally growing up, huh?”

“I’m 30, asshole,” Carmy says, tiredly, but that never works. Richie’s still talking, anyhow. 

“So? Do I know the chick?” Richie’s grin makes Carmy want to punch him.

“No,” he replies, flatly. He’s so tired. “And it’s not what you think. It was just, they’re, uh…”

“Oh shit, cousin!” Richie’s laughing, obnoxiously loud in his ears. “Didn’t think you were capable of—“

“It’s not a one night stand. Already guessed that,” Tina interrupts him. 

“What?” He sounds annoyed, like he has the right to be more irritated than Carmy himself. “Then what’s the secret third option? Or are you lying to my face?”

“They’re my roommate,” Carmy explains, finally.

There’s a beat of silence. And then, uproarious noise.

“You have a roommate?” Is Richie’s first question. The second: “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

“Is, like, dating a roommate a good idea? No offense,” Sydney says, hands raised in defense. “Just wondering.”

“It’s not,” Tina answers for her, sharp eyes narrowed at him. But strangely enough, she’s smiling nonetheless. 

“They’re my roommate, we’re not dating, and I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d be weird about it!” He shouts over the noise, directing the last one at Richie. “Look—they were just drunk, and I was helping them because they were fucking throwing up. Happy now?”

“And they kissed you,” Richie points out. He’s grinning like he knows some big secret.

“Fuck, okay, can we stop fucking talking about this now? It was just an accident, it’ll be gone tomorrow, and we’re never gonna mention this shit again!”

Carmy gets saved by some distant catastrophic noise in the back, somewhere around the freezer. He leaves without a word. Behind him, he hears raucous laughter mostly to Richie’s tune.

Before he leaves for the night, he stops by the bathroom one more to try and get it off. Predictably, it remains stubborn and stalwart through soap, hot water, and scrubbing. The skin under it is red with irritation, and Carmy knows that he's getting nowhere. If anything, he's making it worse. 

His eyes linger on the blotted lipstick on his face. It's smudged, but he can see the cracks and the shape of their lips. His gaze follows the lines of it. 

The memory burns bright in his head for a split second. It bursts in like a flashbang, intense and unavoidable. There's a phantom sensation of their lips on his cheek, the smell of their perfume, the warmth of their embrace, and it's, it's just—

Carmy shuts the lights off and heads out. He needs this lipstick mark gone by morning. 

When he gets home, the apartment is dark. Unoccupied. As he flicks on the lights, he searches for them. They're usually home before him most nights. However, it seems tonight is an anomaly. He walks down the hallway past his room to theirs, and their ajar door reveals an empty bedroom.

“Fuck,” he mutters to himself. Just his luck. 

He opens his phone then, a last resort. He has his messages pulled up, but his thumbs hover over the keyboard and stay there. 

How the hell does he even word this?

Hey, I need lipstick remover. 

No, that isn't enough information. Who knows how many types of remover there could be? What if it isn't the right one? He needs to be more specific. 

Hey, I need lipstick remover for the lipstick you were wearing last night. 

That sounds even stranger. Too specific, although it's the truth. That's what he needs. But he can't just…type that, can he? No, there's no way. 

Is there any way he can get out of saying that there's lipstick on his face from last night and not make it weird? He wishes they were here so he could just show them. Words have never been his forte. There's little hope for him now. 

Please come home right now, he briefly considers typing. It's by far the worst one out of all of them. 

After pacing for a solid five minutes, he decides to send a hopefully neutral message. 

Hey, you out for the night?

It's still pretty weird. Carmy is not a texter. There's not much he needs to talk about that can't wait until he sees them next. They're usually the one texting him, and it's usually only about groceries or bills. However, he tells himself it's fine because there's no note left on the counter. They always leave a note when they go out.

…They always leave a note when they go out. 

This thought resets his pacing around the apartment, frantically looking for the square shape and vivid color of a sticky note. That's how they usually do it, and it's typically on the kitchen counter. So, it's honestly a futile effort to be looking around the whole place, but he does so anyway. 

He looks at his phone. It's been almost 10 minutes, and still no response. 

This isn't unnatural by any means. They always end up responding eventually, but the prickling anxiety is getting pricklier by the second. 

They've got to be so hungover. There's no way they're out again tonight, he thinks to himself, and he's positive it has to be true. 

They're missing, and you're not ever gonna get this shit off your face, his brain adds helpfully. 

That's what finally kicks him into gear and forces him to press the call button. 

It rings for a long time. The more it rings, the longer he stands there in the kitchen, the stupider and more anxious he feels. It's a pitiful feeling to be consumed by, but here he is, unable to resist. 

However, when they finally pick up, he's not sure if he feels completely relieved. A different part of his anxiety is spiking now.

“Carmy?” Their voice carries a trace of static through the phone speaker. 

“Yeah, hey. You see my text?”

“Oh, oops. Sorry, I missed it. Is everything ok?”

“Where are you?” He asks instead. 

“I'm just gettin’ a drink from the corner store. Why? You want me to grab something for you?”

The absolute nonchalance in their voice humbles him, reducing him to complete embarrassment.

“Uh, no, I don't need anything. I mean, uh, I do actually need something from you, though,” he amends hastily. 

“Sure, what's up? I guess it must be important if you're calling, right?”

“I, um—yeah, kinda important,” he says with attempted tranquility, completely ignoring how much he was freaking out earlier.  “So…you got, uh, lipstick remover?”

“Lipstick remover?” Their surprise makes him shrivel. “Well, I have a couple types of makeup remover…”

“I think it needs to be specific?”

“You think it needs to be specific? What exactly are we dealing with here?” Their voice carries bewildered amusement.

“It's, uh…” He swallows. He can't tiptoe around it anymore. “It's…yours?”

“...Huh?”

“You got some lipstick on me last night, and it's not coming off,” he says finally, mortifyingly, and the line goes silent. 

“Fucking—I'm so sorry, my memory is spotty from last night and I, I thought I imagined that, and, uh—” They awkwardly clear their throat. “I'm sorry, I really am. It's not supposed to transfer like that, but I guess it just…”

“It's okay,” he says, despite how hysterical it made him earlier. That part isn't their fault. “It's just, uh, really staying on there.”

“Shit. Of course. It's this super resilient lipstick I use for when I go out drinking, because it's not supposed to come off like, at all, so it comes with this specific remover—I'm sorry, I don’t need to be rambling like this.” They laugh nervously. “I'm on my way home now, but it should be on my desk if you wanna look at it. It's a black tube, which…isn't very specific, I guess. And my desk is really messy…”

“I'll start looking,” Carmy decides. 

“I'm sorry,” they reply miserably. 

“It's okay. You said you were coming home now?”

“Yes. Yes, I am. I'll see you soon, okay?”

“Cool. See you.”

The call ends. Carmy just stands there for a minute. It's like a tidal wave just rushed over him, and now the water is slowly settling to a stand still. 

Black tube, he thinks. How hard can that be?

Very hard, it seems. 

Their room is comfortably messy. Definitely not as messy as his. There's some clothes on the floor, jackets on chairs, underwear he turns his gaze away from (don't imagine them in that lace one lying in the corner or the flowery one or the fucking thong he didn't see anything), but that's about it. Nothing outside of typical clutter, in his opinion. 

The desk, though. The desk. 

He doesn't think he can even see the surface of it. There's just lots of little things scattered across it, from piles of jewelry to stacks of papers and books. It's like an ispy book. 

He stares at it, trying to find a black tube. He quickly realizes how much of a futile effort it's going to be. 

In this moment, he thinks about how he's never spent much time in their room. The two of them usually hang out in the living room. Besides, he's not one to go snooping around in someone's personal space. Until being pushed to his limits and being given explicit permission, that is.

He leans in, peering closer at the scattered items. There's a little bit of everything. Receipts, make-up brushes, scissors, paper scraps, empty water cups, hair ties, empty candy wrappers, lipsticks…none of which are black tubes. 

Maybe it's not on their desk. Maybe it's on a different shelf. 

They said it was on their desk, a voice in his head says, but he’s not listening.

The next closest thing is their nightstand. It's a little messy, but nowhere near as bad as their desk. There's a melatonin bottle, some lip balm, a bedside lamp. He squints, seeing what might be more pills or maybe skincare until a dark tube catches his eye.

When he picks it up, he realizes it's not black, instead being a dark blue. Also, it's not a tube, it's more of a bottle.

The text on it also reads as lube, not lipstick remover. 

…Lube?

It's lube, his brain repeats, helpful as ever. 

I can see that, he thinks back.

“Hello? Carmy?”

A familiar voice has him scrambling to put the lube back. He moves it back to the night stand more quickly than he could have ever expected of himself. 

“Hey, I'm in your room,” he calls back, hoping that his fabricated nonchalance comes off as believable. He steps out of their room into the hallway, and they appear at the end of it. 

The first he notices is how much better they look when he saw them last. To be fair, the last time he saw them, they were sobbing and throwing up into the toilet, drunk out of their mind, but still. It's still an improvement. Their cheeks are flushed from the cold, and their hair is mussed from being outside.

“Hey. Did you find it?” 

“I couldn't find it,” he admits. He steps out of the way to let them through, and then he follows them back into their room. 

“Yeah, sorry, my desk is a fucking nightmare,” they mutter darkly, making a beeline for their desk. “I swear I took it out and put it right here…Ah, yes!”

Miraculously, they pull it out. It looks like a lipstick in itself, and when they uncap it, it just looks like a white lip balm. 

“So, do I just…rub it on?”

“Well—yeah, you should, but it emulsifies with water, so you just use water and then use a cotton pad…” Carmy supposes the confusion isn't too well masked on his face. “Can I see where it is?” They ask tentatively. 

Wordlessly, Carmy turns his head. He supposes they're just glad they didn't see it immediately.

“Oh.” When he turns to face them again, their cheeks are dark with color. It's not a look he's used to seeing on them. “I'm sorry,” they say again with a downturned head. 

“It's okay,” Carmy says again, and he means it. He brings a hand to his cheek subconsciously. “I just…”

“Let me take it off,” they insist, guilt knitted in their expression, and that's how Carmy ends up seated on the toilet seat. 

“Now I'm the one getting patched up on the toilet,” he says quietly. He wonders if it was the wrong thing to say, but it makes them laugh.

“So, um, when did you notice?” They ask. The tube uncaps with a small pop.

“A couple hours ago,” he admits. The balm feels smooth and oily against his cheek. “I had no idea, but my coworkers, uh…”

“Oh my god,” they mutter under their breath. “I just don't think I'm ever gonna stop apologizing for this.”

“It's fine, really,” he insists, even though he was manically scrubbing at his skin earlier. “It was sorta funny,” he adds, even though he was freaking out while everyone else was laughing. They don't need to know. 

“That's good, at least.”

“Yeah. It was—uh…”

He feels their thumb rubbing circles into his cheek, and the words disintegrate like sand in the wind. 

“Sorry, this is just one of those things that takes a little bit of work to get off.” Their tone projects a casual indifference to it, but their voice is so quiet that it feels unfairly intimate. 

“I didn't know lipstick could be this…intense,” Carmy hears himself say. He's far away, still trapped in the feeling of their hand on his face. 

“It's what you need for an intense night out,” they reply with a small smile. He looks up at them then, meeting their dark eyes, but they're concentrated on the spot on his cheek. When they catch him looking, though, they don't look away.

“Are you feeling better?” He asks quietly. He can’t stop looking.

“A lot better. Yesterday was rough, but I'm feeling okay now.” 

“Good.”

“Yeah. Um…” They lean back, breaking eye contact, and Carmy feels a pressure releasing. They grab a wet paper towel and carefully drag it across his cheek. “Thanks again, by the way. For putting up with me last night. I mean, it was more than just putting up, but…y'know.”

“Sure,” he says, much softer than intended. “It happens.”

“I think you're just nice,” they tease, fully intended to be light-hearted, but because Carmy's the way that he is, it weighs heavily in his chest. 

“Sometimes,” he mumbles, because that's all he can bear to say.

Because last night, they looked him in the eyes and whispered that they wanted to know him. That they thought he was sweet, he was kind. They spoke with such earnestness that for a split second, Carmy considered believing them about everything, even though that’s always the wrong thing to do.

Because once he believes them a little bit, he’ll start acting like he’s a good person. He’ll fool everyone around him, even himself. 

Then, the inevitability that is his self-destruction will arrive like it’s always promised. He will mess everything up like he always does, sharp-edged flaws unfurling from the inside out. They’ll slice everyone he was able to fool into getting close enough.

The least he can do is try and give some kindness back before it happens.

“Just take the compliment,” they say with a small grin. “Y'know, I don't remember everything from last night. There's bits and pieces I know that're missing. But from what I do remember…” They make one final wipe at his cheek. “You have to let me be nice to you.”

He remembers, too. 

So deal with it, they had said. Me caring about you.

“How could I forget,” he tries to joke, but his laugh comes out sounding far too breathless. Luckily for him, their laugh, much more tangible and believable, joins his own. 

“I said some crazy shit last night, I know.” They take a seat next to him on the edge of the bathtub. “But I meant it. I like being your friend, Carmy. I hope I didn’t say too much.”

“You didn't say too much. You were just drunk.” He feels a bit stunned. 

“Okay,” they accept after a beat. “I mean, you're right. I was just drunk. Um…” They gesture towards his face. “I got the mark off, by the way.”

Carmy stands up and checks his face in the mirror. Sure enough, it's gone. He feels relief wash over him like a breeze, and another feeling he can't place. It's…It's…

“Thanks,” he says, and they nod. 

“It's the least I could do.” They stand up, too, and walk out of the bathroom. They stand in the doorway for a moment before looking at him. “I'm gonna smoke. You wanna join?”

It's…

“Yeah, for sure. I'll be just a sec.”

Then it's just him in the bathroom, the door shut as he stares at his reflection. The harsh fluorescent bathroom light casts harshly down the planes of his face, creating dark shapes on his face. He stares at the spot where the lipstick mark used to be. The longer he stares, the more the unnamed feeling stretches outwards. 

When it drops in his stomach, that’s when he realizes.

The feeling is disappointment.

~

@zorrasucia

#carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #carmen berzatto #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #WHEEEEE CHAPTER 2 LETS GO!!!!!! thanks everyone for the kind words on ch 1.... it made me very happy..... i love carmy so much. so very muc #this chapter is all over the place but that's just whats up #my stuff #my writing #also hello zs i hope that's what u meant by tagging u LOL i'm a newbie to this #my fics #carmy #reader #alexithymia fic

[stealthetrees]

Okay I’ve snapped.

If you say Percy Jackson is stupid I will find you and make sure you regret it.

I have inattentive type ADHD. I was diagnosed in 4th grade and got put on medication. I did not think there was a difference but I got an award from the school for how much I improved. They didn’t know it was because of meds.

Before I was diagnosed I remember being on the verge of tears often at school because I got so frustrated that I couldn’t do work. I sat at my desk with the pencil in my hand staring at a worksheet physically unable to write the awnser I knew. I would stare at the question and like an optical illusion the rest of the page blurs together and I can’t even make out word anymore.

I thought I was dyslexic for the longest time because some fonts are so difficult for me to read. I could look at a recit, know it says lettuce, and it will not process in my brain. Unless I am a few hours away from a deadline it is nearly impossible to start assignments. Essays are hell.

You know those songs that have an American accent but are completely nonsense? That’s what it sounds like a lot when I listen to people talk. Usally I can grasp the general meaning but I can not tell you what word you just said.

Time is not real. I sit down, scroll through tumblr for maybe 15 minutes and my roommate asks why I’m sitting doing nothing for 4 hours straight. Full days disappear and I can’t remember anything that happened. I have no idea how long it takes me to do something I do almost every day.

I went two weeks at the beginning of the semester with meds that where 10 milligrams lower than my usual dosage. My grades still haven’t recovered.

THAT SAID. In cannon, Percy Jackson passed 13 years of school with high enough grades to be accepted to a university. Not medicated. Without accommodations.

So either the education system in New York is taylored specifically for people with ADHD, or Percy Jackson is a fucking geinios. I can’t spell.

So ignoring the fact that nearly every fight he won by outsmarting his opponent, let me tell you why.

In the books, he’s an introvert, sits in the back, tries to keep his head down but usually fails, gets detention often, and has been expelled multiple times. That’s not the kind of kid teachers go out of their way to help. He’s also unlikely to ask for help. So, despite his struggles in the classroom, he has never been held back or had to redo a grade as far as we know. And it’s pretty likely considering his age.

Add in the fact that he would be constantly sleep deprived from staying up very late (like from 10-3, based off my experience) and his dyslexia, Percy would need to be really good at retaining information after hearing or seeing it only once. That’s actually supported by his ability to memorize prophecies word for word after only hearing them once. We know Percy is bad at taking tests, so he would have to be really good at recalling information.

He also did it all unmedicated. I want to cry just thinking about it.

tldr, the fact that Percy’s grades where high enough to get into college means hes fucking brilliant

#percyjackson #percy jackson #pjo #adhd #living with adhd #Percy Jackson adhd #adhd brain #school is hard #especially in an environment built to torture you #adhd problems #adhd post #adhd Percy Jackson

[ethanmorales]

Misconceptions

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Part 4 - Air

Pairing: Ethan Morales x fem reader 4.1k words Requested Tags: @arij3lly@hitoshislut@bjrmaybank@ghostfaceorgirlfriend @in-silverlake @misacc08 Warnings: swearing, smut

It's the beginning of a brand-new school year at Sherman Oaks high. The last year for some of us; me included. But the start of my senior year, ironically, is not the reason my legs are wobbly. Nope, that was all because of Ethan, who had knocked on my window for a late-night visit about 6 hours ago. There were a few things he wanted to try so… let’s just say, it was a good thing my mom had the night shift at the hospital.

It’s only been a week since our first time. Only a week since he admitted having feelings for me. Unfortunately, we didn’t discuss the matter further. My mom had gotten home after his confession, and he practically had to take his clothes and run out the back door before we got caught. We’ve met almost every day since, but we haven’t talked about us. We kiss a lot and of course we have sex, sometimes we even cuddle, and we talk about our days, but we never talk about what we are to each other and at this point, I’m afraid to ask.

I loved every second of the time we’ve spent together. But now that school has started again, I’m afraid. Afraid that things will go back to how they used to be. Afraid that a new girl will catch his attention. I know it makes no sense, after he confessed to having feelings for me, but the heart is a treacherous thing. You can never trust it. I most certainly don’t trust mine. It always makes me feel crazy most times. Or maybe it’s my mind that’s the problem.

It doesn’t help that it’s almost time for first period and I’ve not heard from Ethan yet. He usually texts me as soon as he wakes up. Today? Nada. I even texted him first, but he left me on read.  So, I’m spiraling, just a little bit. I think I’m entitled to in this situation.

I glance around the hallway one more time as the bell rings. I don’t see him anywhere. At that moment, Devi links her arm around mine. “That was the bell ringing just now,” she said, pointing a finger in the air.

I ignored the sarcasm but let her steer me away to our first class.

“I was expecting some witty remark,” she said, when I didn’t reply.

I force myself to smile, “Sorry, head in the clouds today.”

“It’s okay, girl. The first day of school sucks. My sleeping schedule is so messed up from a summer full of all-nighters.”

I quirk an eyebrow at this, “Do these all-nighters have a name?”

Devi shakes her head furiously, “Nope. No name at all.” I pretended to believe her as our teacher walked in the door, closing it behind him. I look back to Ethan’s desk but it’s empty. I hide my phone under the desk and shoot him a quick text.

Skipping on the first day? That’s bad, even for you.

Devi smacks the top of my desk, eyes wide. I glance to the front of the classroom and see the teacher is staring right at me. “Sorry, Mr. Shapiro.”

He sighs, “You guys are lucky I am the coolest teacher ever,” he continues before anyone can respond. “Raise of hands if you completed your summer reading,” pauses, “Yes, the audio book counts. No, the movie does not.”

The rest of the class was a blur. A glance at my phone confirmed that Ethan hadn’t responded. The anxiety in my chest continued to grow as time continued to pass. At lunchtime I still hadn’t heard from him. At this point, I was angry.

Fuming, I stomped all the way to my locker, putting away my books and backpack for the hour. As I’m closing the door, Dominic Stryker leans against the locker next to mine. Dominic was an exchange student that started late last semester. Everyone was surprisingly welcoming to him, but that might have something to do with the fact that he’s hot. Mind you, I only have eyes for Ethan but if I didn’t, the windswept blond hair and bright blue eyes would do it for me.

But Ethan was very much the only person that I wanted, so Dominic’s presence only served to irritate me more.

“Yes?” I asked when he just stared at me, sweeping his hair back with his hand.

Unfazed by my tone, he smiles warmly at me, “Say, have you seen Ethan anywhere? He hasn’t been in any of our classes.”

I frown at this, “Of all the people you could ask, why would I know where he is?”

Dominic shrugs, “I just got a vibe last time, like you were into him or something.”

I huffed. “I am definitely not into him.” I say it louder than I intend to, and some people slow down to look at us. He waves at them, and they quickly carry on with their business.

“My bad,” he says, looking back at me, smiling wider, “Just a misunderstanding.”

I sigh, once I realize that I’m being snappy and rude. “I’m sorry. It’s not been a great morning, I’m a little on edge. There’s no excuse for taking it out on you.”

Dominic slides over the lockers a bit, cutting some of the distance between us; then lowers his voice.

“I forgive you,” he says, “but I might have to seek compensation for the emotional damage.”

I roll my eyes, but a smile does tug at my lips. “Whatever. I’ll buy you a soda. Is that compensation enough?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “How about a meal? After school?”

I suddenly realized that he was asking about Ethan to make sure he could make his move. And I basically gave him the opening. Horrified, I struggle to respond.

“I- uh

“She’s busy after school.” The voice was very close behind me. I turned around so quickly that I bumped into his chest.

“Ethan.” Even at my addressing him, he didn’t look at me. His eyes were fixed on Dominic. For the moment, I ceased to exist.

“I think Y/N can decide if she’s busy or not,” Dominic says, standing up straighter to look down at Ethan. But Ethan seems unfazed.

“I think you need to keep walking before I lose my patience.” Ethan’s words were calm, but I knew him well enough to know this was the calm before the storm. I’ve seen him fight before; Dominic did not stand a chance if it turned into that.

“Guys, please. Just stop. If you get detention this week, they won’t let you come to homecoming.” I was trying to be the voice of reason, but my reasoning was lacking in many ways. My audience could care less about homecoming, for one.

“I’m still waiting for a response, “Dominic says, ignoring my previous statement. “Food after school? I know a cool spot.”

Ethan pulls me to the side so that he can face Dominic without me being in the middle.

“I already told you that she’s busy.” Ethan’s voice was not as calm as before. His hands were balled into fists. I knew I had to stop this now or it would turn into a fight.

“I got a lot going on right now, sorry Dominic.” My words come out quick.

Ethan smiled at this, motioning towards me. “You heard her. Now go find someone else to hit on.”

Dominic’s expression was deadly as he stared back at Ethan, but then his gaze turned to me.

“I thought you were definitely not into him,” he said it in a mocking tone, air quotations in the air. I didn’t know what to say that could make this better, so I just looked at him with what I hoped looked like a silent apology.  He just shook his head in disbelief as he pushed past us, finally leaving us alone.  

Even with his departure, Ethan stays in place, still not looking at me.

“Ethan?” I finally say.

I jump in surprise as he slams his fist on the locker door and I see the metal bend.

“Oh my God,” I grab his arm and pull him away before anyone sees what he did. I haul him through the hallway and take a left, this part of school is empty during lunch time. I find the nearest door and push him through it. I lock the door behind us and turn around. It’s the faculty bathroom, I realize.

“Are you insane? Do you know how much trouble you could get into for damaging school property? You don’t need a vandalism strike on your records.”

He finally turns to face me, but the expression on his face is even angrier than before.

“What the fuck do I care about that?” he replies. Before I can start listing the reasons why he should care, he continues, “What the fuck was that shit about?” He points to the door, but I know he is talking about Dominic. I stay quiet for a moment, not sure how to proceed. I had never seen him this angry. Ever. But at the same time, screw him. I was angry at him myself.

“I should be the one asking you, what the fuck was that? I’ve been looking for you all morning and texting you and nothing. You ghost me and then have the audacity to throw a jealous scene over some guy asking me out?!” The volume of my voice rose with each word.

 I half expected Ethan to throw more angry words at me, or to yell back at me, but it was the opposite. His voice low, he responds. “I dropped my phone in the toilet this morning.”

I stare, waiting for the punchline but he doesn’t say anything else.

“You dropped your phone in the toilet,” I repeat, not sure if I believed it.

Ethan let out an annoyed breath, “I was going to respond to your text, and I dropped it. If you texted after the first one that I read, I haven’t seen them. I left my phone in a bowl of rice.”

I scoff, “Your phone is waterproof.”

Ethan gives me a pointed look, “Not if you leave it in water for a long time, apparently.”

“Why would you leave it in there at all?”

Silence.

“Ethan, I am trying to give you the chance to explain.”

He mumbled something under his breath.

I take a step closer to hear him better. “What was that?”

Ethan shakes his head. “My parents were fighting again.”

“Oh.” Is all I can say.

Ethan laughs, but the sound is bitter.

“Yeah. So, I’m sorry I couldn’t get back to you then. But you letting this dick hit on you while I’m dealing with that shit. Fuck that.”

I suddenly felt terrible, even though I didn’t know what was happening until he explained. We kept ending up in this situation, always with a misunderstanding. But I knew the only reason this kept happening is because our communication was shit. Because I didn’t know where we stood.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize he was hitting on me until it was too late.” I finally say.

Ethan scoffs – not amused.

“What are we?” I finally ask, exasperated. As soon as the words spill out of my mouth, I regret them. This was the last thing Ethan would want to talk about with everything going on.

Ethan just stares at me. Looking beautiful and tortured.

“Sorry. Forget I said anything,” my voice trembles and I hate it.

Ethan steps closer. “Are you serious?”

I meet his gaze, but I can’t decipher the emotion in his eye.

“I said forget about it!” I start turning to leave, embarrassed at my outburst. Ethan just pulls me into him and kisses me. I’m too stunned to respond to his kiss, which seems to upset Ethan more as he pushes me into the bathroom sink, kissing me more aggressively. I give in and kiss him back. His tongue quickly starts a tug of war with mine as he deepens the kiss. After a moment of this, I can’t remember what we were arguing about in the first place. All I can think about is the way his mouth moves with mine, effortlessly. His hands on my waist, then lower, cupping my butt. I pull away for a moment, “It’s the teacher’s bathroom,” I said, my voice breathless.

“I don’t give a fuck,” is all he says, as he kisses me once more, then stops, “You asked me a question. I’m making my point.” I try to remember what the question was but then we’re back at it and I forget to remember.

Ethan plops me on top of the sink as we continue kissing. I feel one of his hands on my thigh and then moving slowly up under my skirt.

“Fuck.” He groans against my lips. I smile, knowing that he has realized I’m not wearing underwear.

“This better have been for me and not for that asshole,” he says as his fingers caress my opening.

I look at him, annoyed. Smack him in the chest. “Do you really think I care about Dominic?”

Ethan holds my gaze steadily and my heart flutters. Stupid body. Why do you have to react in the most annoying ways at the worst possible times. Who cares about his beautiful caramel skin and beautiful brown eyes. He is a jerk.

“I hope not.” He finally says.

“What?”

“I hope you don’t care about him. I hope you only care about me.”

My heart speeds up. “I don’t care about him or any other guy.” I start to tell him that he was the only one I care about, but I don’t get a chance to tell him. In that moment, he slips a finger inside of me and I gasp in surprise. Ethan holds my gaze as he slips a second finger in. I let out a shaky breath as he starts moving in and out.

“I’m the only guy who’s allowed to do this, do you understand?” His tone was a mixture of anger and lust. I was holding on to his arms for dear life as he pumped his fingers in and out of me, then he presses on my clitoris with both fingers, which makes me moan involuntarily. I claw my nails into his arms to keep myself together.

“Do you understand?” he asks again. Fighting the ache building up inside me and breathing heavier by the second, I nod.

His fingers stop moving suddenly, leaving with their absence, a vengeful kind of coldness and I whine in protest. “Ethannn”

“Say it.” He demands. I frown at him, annoyed.

“Fine. You’re the only one who is allowed to do this.”

He smirks. “Yeah, I am.”

I think of an insult to throw at him but never get to say it. At my saying what he wants to hear, Ethan’s hands spread my legs apart and he kneels, his head disappearing under my skirt. Still, I’m not prepared for the attack from his tongue.

Ethan’s POV

I’m not proud at how I reacted about that dick hitting on her, but when I walked over and heard him flirting with her and then asking her out…  It felt like I was set on fire by some supernatural being. It took all of me not to pummel him right there. The nerve on this fucker; to ask my girl out. But what really fucked me up is that she didn’t immediately reject him. That felt like a stab to the heart. I wanted to burn the whole damn world down.

Once in the bathroom, as we threw angry words at each other I realized what the problem was. We both care too fucking much, but we also hold back even more.

Most of the anger in me dissipates at her words when she finally says what I want to hear, even if she only says them because I told her to. I don’t know how to say the things I want to say, so I decided to show her to the best of my abilities. I drop to my knees and in between her legs and under the shield of her skirt, I kiss her in her wetness. I hear her breathing pick up as I suck at her clit; her hand grabbing at my hair. I groan, turned on even more at the simple gesture. I loved it when she did that.

I pull away and she practically whimpers. “Don’t stop.”

I stand up and look at her. Her cheeks are flushed, her chest moving fast with shallow breaths. I feel more blood rushing to my dick. The pain is almost unbearable now.

“Hang on, baby.” I fumble with the button in my jeans. Once I pull them with my boxers, I let her look at me for a moment, the desire in her eyes just driving me to the edge. I pull her to me for a second, kiss her lips softly and smile.

“Now turn around,” I order.

She looks confused for a second, but she does as she is told. Her doing everything I ask her makes me so fucking horny, she has no idea how much power she has over me. Fueled by an animalistic kind of desire, I guide her to a bending position and hold her hips with both my hands. Without a word, I push myself into her. I see her grab onto the sink to support herself as I drive myself deeper inside her. I give her a moment to get used to the feeling since it’s the first time we have done this.

I can see her flushed face through the mirror and when she makes eye contact with me, I catch the silent plea. At this, I lose whatever is left of my sanity. I plunge myself inside of her. She moans and I follow, as I slip in and out. As I watch our reflections in the mirror, I see when she starts to close her eyes as the pleasure continues to build. I hate the idea of her not looking at me when I’m inside her. I pulled out and turn her around to face me.

“Don’t take your eyes off me.”

I lift her onto the sink again and hold her gaze as I shove my throbbing dick inside her again. At this angle, her head falls back when she screams. I grab her face to make her look at me.

“God, Ethan.” Her reaction eggs me on. I move faster, knowing I have a limited time to make her cum. I was barely hanging on as it is. Our breaths were labored as I continued to fuck her. You could hear her wetness as I moved, but her pussy continued to tighten around me so I knew she was close. I slid out a bit and positioned myself slightly to the left before I pushed myself in again. She screamed, loudly this time. I smiled at finding the right spot and moved faster. This time, as if we were in sync, we came together. Once we rode the wave, breathing heavily, I gently helped her off the sink. After pulling my pants up, I loop my arms around her and rest my sweaty forehead against hers. We both closed our eyes, trying to catch our breath.

“What I was trying to say is… you’re mine.” I finally found the words.

I open my eyes to find her watching me. Her face gets redder. I’m confused for a moment and then realize why she’s upset.

“And I’m yours. I thought that part was obvious.” I say.

Y/N narrows her eyes at me, and I laugh.

“How is that obvious?” she asks.

“I told you how I felt last week. If anything, I’m the only one that should be angry. You never told me how you felt about me.”

“I thought that part was obvious.” She throws the words back at me, her tone playful.  

I smile and kiss her deeply.

“So how do you feel about me?” I ask after we stop.

I didn’t want to admit that it had bothered me so much. We’ve spent the last week glued to each other and not once had she brought it up, so I decided to not bring it up and make an even bigger fool out of myself. But the more days passed, the more insecure I became. That’s probably why I lost my mind earlier.

Y/N smiles softly and cups my face with her hands.

“I’ve been crazy about you for I don’t know how long,” she says. I smiled at her words, the heavy feeling in my chest finally easing.

“Me? But I suck,” I say jokingly.

“Yet I’m still in love with you.” She pushes at me gently, embarrassed. I grin like an idiot at her declaration.

I grab her face and kiss her again. Once, twice, three times.

“Ethan,” she giggles. I bury my face in her neck and kiss her there too, holding her tightly against me.

“I love you too.” I say.

When she looks at me, I see stars in eyes.

A knock on the door makes us both jump.

“Shit.”

Y/N POV

“Oh God, we’re going to get expelled.”

Ethan chuckles at this and I smack his arm.

“Just deny everything. They didn’t see anything so it’s their word against ours.”

I shake my head, “But the door was locked.”

“Hey,” he says, lifting my chin up, “You trust me?”

I nod and he smiles.

“Then follow my lead.”

I do. I walk slowly behind him, fighting the soreness in my body and holding on to Ethan’s arm when I notice how shaky my legs are. Ethan looks beside me and realizes. He gives me what seems to be an apologetic smile.

We moved to the door, which was still being knocked on. He turns the lock and opens it.

We’re both surprised to see Paxton standing there, swimming coach uniform on. I don’t think Ethan was prepared to see him of all people. He stays quiet.

Paxton looks at him and then me, almost trying to hide a smile.

“You guys should go. Now. Be thankful it was me.”

I let out a sigh of relief and so did Ethan. We started moving around him and out into the hallway, but Paxton put a hand up to stop me as I was about to walk past him.

“You might want to try being a bit more… discreet next time.” I look at him, confused and he elaborates, stepping closer to not be heard. “You were loud. Like very loud.” I blush furiously at his words and speed away from him. I heard him chucking behind me.

The end of lunch arrives at the sound of the bell and suddenly the empty hallways fill up again, everyone going into classrooms and their lockers to pick up their stuff at the last minute. As we’re moving through the people around us, Ethan’s hand slips into mine and he interlocks our fingers. I quickly looked at him in a question. But he just smiles. We walk to my next classroom, and he walks in with me, hand in hand, even though we don’t share this class. We get to my desk, which coincidentally, is next to Dominic’s. I understand now.

“Thanks for walking me.” I say, shyly. I hear my classmates whistling and adding commentary in the background. I sit down but notice Ethan hasn’t moved from his spot. I look at him in a question. He then bends down and kisses me long. I vaguely hear angry muttering beside me, but I ignore it, lost in the kiss.

“Good afternoon Mr. Morales. I wasn’t aware I had you in this class.” My math teacher had arrived.

Ethan winked at me as he moved away to leave. “I’m out,” he tells my teacher, hands up in surrender, turns around and points at me, “I just wanted to take care of my lady.”

The whole class reacts loudly.

I sink lower into my desk. Still, I smile. He was announcing to the world that we’re together, claiming me in front of everyone.  I couldn’t imagine ever being happier than I was in that moment.

The End.

___________________

A/N: Thank you all for reading! You are bomb! Hope you enjoyed this little story of mine. I enjoyed writing it. Stay tuned for other fanfics and/or one shots about Ethan. ☺️

Stay awesome, much love xx

#ethan morales #ethan morales fanfic #ethan morales x reader #never have i ever #never have i ever season 4 #ben gross #devi vishwakumar #michael cimino #nhie #nhie s4

[wifeofnatasharomanoff]

Jealous/possessive Nat. Maybe she leaves y/n willingly for a few years on a mission which breaks y/n heart but when she finally comes back, y/n is sleeping with kate/Wanda or even better Yelana so Nat makes a point of claiming what is hers. Nat doesn't share what is hers.

If you're comfortable, make it smutty af as well please

Jealous Girl

WARNINGS: break ups, 18+ themes, jealousy, slight toxic!nat, strap-on use (reader receiving), fingering (reader receiving), thigh riding (reader receiving), degradation, daddy kink

WORDS: 3,108

PAIRING: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader, fwb Wanda Maximoff x f!reader

A/N: a lovely ask from a lovely anon, after this hopefully i will be updating my series! @daddynattt i better see you in a pink hoodie 🙄

She loved you. Loved. Loved? Love is for children. She loved you enough to let you go. Was that enough? Was letting you go enough? She was a fucking liar. She lied to herself, and to you.

It was a cold winter night in January. You and your girlfriend sat in your room in the Avengers compound, surrounded by blankets and pillows. A comfortable silence in the room, you could hear faint police sirens from afar. A light glow in the dark room came from your open window. Your hand ran through her soft red hair, her head on your lap. A blanket draped over the both of your bodies. It seemed perfect. Almost seemed perfect.

“Babe?”  you hummed as a response, taking the hands that were once stroking her hair away. “Yeah? What is it Natty?”  the comfortable silence growing uncomfortable by the second, “can we talk?” what? What did she mean by that? You felt your anxiety spike at those 3 words. “What do you mean? I– we're talking right now Natasha.” your words follow with a nervous laugh.

“Y/N.” her tone was rather serious. You've never heard her this serious in your entire relationship before. It scared you. Oh, how it scared you so very much. “y-yeah what is it?” she could almost hear the fear in your voice. Almost wasn't enough. Were you not enough? “I have a mission soon.” was that it? Hopefully, it was. “oh! Is that all? I thought it was something serious.” your palms get clammy, and you were quick to wipe them off with your shirt. Your lap felt lighter as she took her head off of it.

Her gaze towards you seemed so empathetic that it made you feel pathetic. She sighed, holding onto your wrists as she spoke up. “Detka the mission is over 6 months long.” you lock eyes with her. Her beautiful green eyes, the soft gaze that was there just a while ago changed to a dark one. “So..?” you ask, cocking your head to the side. “Look I'm trying to say that this can't happen between us. We.. we can't happen.” fuck. God no. Why is this happening? She loves you. She does. You've been together for 4 years, why is she doing this?

“w–why do you think that..? You've been on missions before Natasha! What's wrong this time?” did those 4 years not matter to her? Did you not matter to her? She just had to go. Didn't she know that you love her? Did she not care? Why must she do this to you? Did she not love you like how you love her? Was this relationship all a lie?

“I just think it's best if we take a break baby.” you felt tears prick your eyes, blurring your vision. You couldn't tell if you were angry or sad. “Natasha..” her grip on your wrists loosen, “Nat just get out.” she seemed surprised at your words. Did she think you'd beg for her to stay? If she didn't want you, what would begging do? She made up her mind. It's not your fault you want her to stay. “Y/N–” your gaze lowered itself onto your hands, looking everywhere but at her. “Natasha, please. Get out.” she sighed and got off the bed. “Goodnight detka.” you couldn't bring yourself to say goodbye back. The tears spilled from your burning eyes as soon as she stepped out of the room. She left you. And you couldn't do anything about it.

“You're doing so well malysh..” she coos, gripping your waist as you rode yourself against her thigh. Your moans and whimpers were heard throughout the bedroom. You were tightly holding onto her shoulders. “Wanda fuck.” your breathing labored as you were reaching an orgasm, “what is it sweetheart?” she flexed her thigh. Fucking hell. “Please. I'm so close Wands..” your juices were dripping down her thigh and onto the bedsheets.

“Let go dorogaya.. make a mess all over my thigh.” you dig your nails into her shoulders, leaving behind crescent shaped marks. “ohh my God–” you came all over her, your cum spilling onto her thigh and probably drenching the sheets as well. She chuckled, pressing her forehead to yours, “that was hot.” she admitted, watching how your breasts were pressed up against her body. “Sorry about your sheets Wands.” you say, looking down at her dampened bedsheets.

“It's okay Y/N/N, wanna stay the night?” you think on that question for a few seconds. “Sure, why not.” she kisses your cheek before laying down on the bed, pulling you down with her.

It was summer now, 6 months quickly passed by since she left you. She was still away at her mission. Sometimes you wondered why she even chose such a long mission. But eventually, you stopped wondering. She left you. End of story... Right? January soon became July, the cold breezes in the air soon became warm. Your love for her? You didn't know. She hurt you. You felt as if your heart shattered in a million pieces. Did she not care about that? She promised. Did she lie? “moya lyubov I could never hurt you like they did. I promise.”

The room's atmosphere was warm and quiet. Slight noises could be heard from the fan. It was a bit quiet outside tonight, it was dark out but you could hear birds chirping in the distance.

You sighed into her hold, nuzzling your chin against the crook of her neck. “Goodnight Wands.” she kissed your forehead, “goodnight dorogaya..” you two quickly fell into a deep slumber. You breathed softly in your sleep, and Wanda lightly snored.

January 21st was the day she broke up with you. The date tonight was July 20th. She's supposed to come home tomorrow morning. Supposed to. You didn't want anything bad to happen to her. You just didn't want to see her so soon.

Was that so bad? You were sure she didn't want anything to do with you either. So why must she come here first instead of debriefing at SHIELD? Why did you have to see her so early? She didn't love you. You were wrong all along. Were you?

You woke up the next morning being absolutely crushed by Wanda. “Wands– get off of me, I can't breathe.” she looks down at you from under her, “oops?” she said with a chuckle as she got off of you. “Oops?! Wanda? You bitch.” you giggle and shove a pillow at her face. The fun didn't last long as the both of you were called in the lounge room.

“You called?” you asked Tony, “yeah, your girlfriend is back from the mission or whatever. Thought you'd wanna know, y'know?” he said, looking up at you from his laptop screen. “My girlfriend? Who?” he raised a brow in confusion. “Red hair? Russian? A bit mean sometimes.” you laugh slightly, “ohh, yeah no. She broke up with me right before her mission.” he widened his eyes in shock. “Nobody ever tells me shit in this god damn place.”

“Y/N?” you turn to look at the familiar voice calling out your name. “oh, hey Nat.” you say before walking back to Wanda's room. “Y/N wait–” you quickly ran into her room and closed the door shut. Your heart was racing. You didn't think for one second that you'd see her after all those months, standing there and calling out your name. “Malysh? What are you doing here? Not that I'm complaining but–” you grab onto her wrists, and place her hands on your waist. “Touch me. Wanda please.” she hums, gripping your skin harshly. “What happened sweetheart?” you whine against her touch, slowly backing up to the edge of the bed.

Why did she have to come back? Was breaking up with you not enough? Did she want to hurt you more? You were so done with it. Yet you weren't. “It's Natasha..” you choked back a sob, desperately clinging onto her shoulders. “oh.. I'm sorry Y/N.” she peppers kisses onto your neck, and pushes you onto the bed. “What do you want me to do? hm?” you sigh, “mark me. Leave marks please. I–” she smirks. “wanna make her jealous? Make her mad?” you nod, clutching her wrists as she bites onto your neck, sucking on your soft sensitive spot. “Wanda..” you moan out her name and gasp softly as she brings a hand up to take off your bra. She unhooked your bra and slid it off your chest. “Just marks? Nothing else?” you nodded.

“Thanks, Wands.” you laugh, taking a look at the many marks she had left on you in the mirror. A few on your neck, your collarbone, and the upper area of your breasts. “No problem, what are friends for?” she chuckles, putting her rings back on. “Fucking?” you giggle, burying your face into her shoulder. “Just kidding Wanda, you're the best.” she smiled and kissed the top of your head.

It was a bit past midnight, and you were attempting to sneak out of your best friend's room unnoticed. But as soon as you stepped out of her room, “Natasha! Hey.. there.” she cleared her throat, her eyes fixated on your neck and your hand on the witch's doorknob. “uh..” you sighed, closing the door. “okay..” you whispered and walked past her and made your way into your bedroom.

“What the fuck was that?” Natasha muttered to herself as she was walking into her room. Did you get with someone already? Was it Wanda? Were you with Wanda? She realized her mistake. She shouldn't have left what was hers. She should feel sad, despair even, that the love of her life that she willingly chose to leave had their eyes set on someone else. But no, she felt longing, a sense of need. A drive really, a drive for claiming. Claiming what belongs to her. You. She wanted you, and she's going to get what she wants. No matter what gets in the way. You're hers, and she'll have you.

That night she went to bed, her thoughts were contaminated by you. Your beautiful face, those soft, plump lips of yours. Your hands.. the way they'd clutch onto her muscular shoulders whenever she'd have her way with you. Your neck, the one littered with sinful marks just now. The way your hips would stutter upwards when she'd tease you. Your voice, the moans, and whimpers that would sneak past your mouth. Your cheeks all flushed, bright red, when she'd whisper something in your ear.

You groaned as the sunlight cracked through the blinds. “ugh.. why is it so bright?” you sat up on your bed, rubbing your eyes. “Wait– fuck I'm late for training.” you throw off the blanket and run into the bathroom to freshen up.

“Y/N..” the sight of you made her fall in love all over again. “let's just get training over with Natasha.” you sighed. She chuckled under her breath. You were trying so hard to seem unphased, how cute. “Your position is all wrong.” she rasped, oh fuck, how her husky voice still managed to make you completely weak in the knees. “I– I can do it myself!” she briefly pauses, contemplating on whether she should let you do it on your own or step in and help. “As your mentor, I can help.” she pressed her body against your backside and brought her hand to your arm.

“You need to raise your arm up..” she gently moved your arm upwards, putting your hands in a combat position. “You didn't need to ‘help’ me Natasha.” your words came out colder than you expected, Natasha smirked. Did you expect her to be upset? “yeah well,” her hands slid down from your shoulders and down to your waist. “I wanted to, so I am.” she squeezed your waist lightly. “Nat..” you were about to give it all up at this very moment. Taking off the mask that you put up to hide the love that you still had for her.

“..Are you in love with her?” she asked, slowly backing you to the wall. You let out a shaky breath, “why should it matter to you?” she sighed, holding your wrists back with her free hand. “Do you love me?” you froze for a split second. You did love her. But were you going to tell her? What if she– “y- yes. I do love you..” but why? She hurt you. She'll do it again. You were sure of it. “I love you too. I'm so sorry detka.” she admitted, pushing you against the wall. A soft gasp escapes your mouth when your body harshly makes contact with the wall.

As much as you didn't want to admit it, the way you could tell she was packing when she pressed her crotch against the curve of your ass made arousal gush in between your legs. You flutter your eyes shut, “I'm sorry moya lyubov..” she whispered. Her slender fingers latched onto your pants and slid them off, leaving your panties on. “Tell me how much you love me Natasha.” you say, almost letting a moan out when her fingertips brush against your clothed clit. She hooked onto the hem of your underwear, slowly discarding them away.

“I love you so much. So much kotenok..” she lightly pressed her lips to your inner thigh, “so much.. I love you.” her words repeat over, and over like a chant. You almost wanted to believe her. “I know.. I know that I betrayed your trust baby but, please. Let me make it up to you.” you melted into her touch, lolling your head back. Her touch was different from Wanda's. It was gentle, but at times she would be rough. Her hands grazing against your thighs, your waist, your neck.. it sent your skin ablaze. It was heavenly, so good it was sinful. You would almost risk it all for her touch, just for one moment. She peppered light, feathery kisses up to your uncovered pussy. “Please.. Natasha please.”

“You're so beautiful.. ” she lightly bit down on your neck, “I missed you so much baby girl.” she mumbled against your burning skin. You exhaled shakily, a soft smile displayed on your face. “I missed you too Natty, s- so much..” the need for her was unbearable, you couldn't stand it, just her voice itself made you go insane. “mhm?” she slowly brought her hand in between your thighs. She chuckled when she noticed your slick inner thigh, wetness running down your legs. She dipped in a finger into your soaking cunt. Your spongey walls immediately clenched onto her finger. “Fucking hell. You're so tight detka.” she pumped her finger in and out before sneaking in a second finger. You squeak out a moan, your hands clutching at her back, your arms draped over her shoulders. “mmn..” she brought her lips to yours, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss. You whine against her lips, her fingers still moving inside of you.

You couldn't tell if you wanted her to stop or needed her to keep going. She got back up and pinned you against the wall once more. “Please what? do you want daddy to fuck you?” a slutty whimper escapes your mouth when you feel her hot breath against your skin. “Please.. daddy I need you.” she hums, tracing two fingers down your waist in a swift motion. Your hips stuttered upwards at her teasing, “God, you're dripping.. is this all for me?” you nod vigorously, hoping that'll answer her question. She pinched at your thigh, “who is it all for slut?” she asked again, “y–you! it's all for you daddy. please.” she smirked. “Look at me.” you turned around to face her. She grabbed your thighs, hoisted them around her waist, and pushed your back onto the wall.

She loved you enough to come back. She loved you enough to do this. Right? Oh, how she loathed anyone that would look your way. You were hers. But was she yours? You've never thought of it that way. You threw your head back against the wall in pleasure. Whatever she was to you didn't matter in this moment. A moment of pure bliss, whatever lies and deceits that were happening didn't matter.

“Baby let me fuck you properly..” she muttered against your lips, her hands clawing at your covered chest. “Please.. I need you.” she smiled and unbuckled her belt, taking out her faux cock. “Yeah? How bad kotenok?” you buck your hips onto the tip of her dick, wanting nothing more than her to be fully inside of you, “please.. please daddy I need to so badly.” you begged. Pathetic. That's what you were. Begging for the woman that didn't want you. She didn't want you, she wanted your body. Isn't that it? She didn't give you a proper apology, she just did what she always does. Fuck her mistakes away. She thought you'd forget about all her problems, the arguments just by touching you. But you remembered. You just couldn't leave her, she was everything to you. You loved her, but you wished you didn't.

She aligned the tip of the strap-on with your entrance and pushed a few inches into you. Eliciting lewd, slutty moans out of your mouth, “oh fuck daddy!” your nails dug into her back, and you were sure you left red marks on her skin. She grunted as she shoved completely into you, “take it, show daddy how much of a whore you are for her.” she said, thrusting in and out of your throbbing cunt. “Natasha.. oh my God–” you felt tears prick the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision as she fucked harder into you.

She loved you. You loved her. She– she loves you as much as you love her. Right? You wanted to believe that with all your heart. “Fuck- daddy ’m gonna cum!” you slur as she slammed into you. “Do it. Cum all over my cock detka, show me who you belong to.” with her words you did as told. You bit down on your lower lip as you came onto the silicone dick. “mmh– fuck- fuck Natasha!” her name repeatedly being moaned out of your mouth.

“I love you so much.. you did so well baby.” she kissed the side of your face, taking her hand up to your cheek to flick away your tears. “I love you too Natty..” you mumbled out breathlessly.

You loved her. She loved you. That's why she told you. “I love you.” those three words. She meant it. Right?

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha marvel #wanda maximoff x reader

[doggoboigaugau]

Stray dog (Part 3)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 4 / Part 5

Pairings: Ghost x Soap x Male Reader

Long story short: my old acc got terminated for no reason so I'm reposting all this💀👍

Summary: Soap invited Male Reader to join Ghost and his favorite documentaries about dinosaur fossils :D (Ghost very loves dinosaurs y'all cannot tell me otherwise).

Word count: 1950

Warnings: Nothing. It's all fluff this time.

You lost track of time and ended up stopping only when your whole body screamed at you to rest. Looking up from the training gears, you realized that there was no one left in the room. It was a habit of you to ignore everyone and everything surrounding you when it is not necessary, or maybe it’s more like a coping mechanism, since this little tricky skill prevented you from taking in redundant information, such as a close group of men joking around with each other.

This very common sight in the military and especially in the training ground always succeeded in rendering you uncomfortable, and a vague but stingy feeling prevails over your chest, sometimes so badly that it even made breathing difficult.

No matter how hard you tried to brush it aside, dismissing it as something trivial and irrelevant, you knew damn well the cause of it: You once wished to belong to a group of friends that were so close that you all would spend time doing everything together, going on mission, training, drinking, and getting drunk together at the bar. Obviously, it had never happened. It never would, judging from how every time it was only you who got left behind, drowning yourself in overpriced alcohol and your own overwhelming emotions.

It was pitch black outside as you left the training centre. You dragged your fatigued body back to the base of your Task Force, but surprisingly, in contrast to your current physical state, your mind felt empty for now. In a good way. No burdening streams of thoughts, not a single fuck given about how others saw you. You felt kind of free.

‘Guess it’s a good point for not being around people.’ On your sweat-strained face drew a genuine smile. Some people would think that it was weird to smile over something like this, not having any close people around you and just spending your entire day loitering around, doing something you considered to be productive but by no means enjoyable. To them, you were not living a life. You were only surviving through it.

Not that you would complain though. Nor were you in the position to be able to complain about it.

Your blurred vision and the dull pain in your chest reminded you that you hadn’t eaten anything since lunch, which was almost 10 hours ago. Slowly making your way to the kitchen, you decided to turn a blind eye to the kitchen sink and approached the fridge, hoping that they’d be kind enough to leave you some leftovers.

What greeted you in the fridge confounded you as you looked at a carefully prepared dish wrapped in aluminum foil with a sticky pink note on top of it.

‘want to call ya 4 dinner earlier but ya seem to enjoy the training a lot. plz eat this when ya done with the training~’ was written on the piece of paper together with a little ugly and distorted heart shape, which made you chuckle. It was not difficult to guess who left this for you. You shook your head in amusement while putting the dish into the microwave oven.

Sitting down at the empty table in the dimly lit dining room, you slowly enjoyed the meal that Soap had saved for you. Then again, amid the quiet atmosphere that was free of any stimulations, your mind began to do the thing that it excelled in, drifting away. Your unusually calm thoughts appeared like a grainy film rolling before your eyes, replaying every delightful moment that you had shared with the Scottish and other team members, like when you, Soap, Gaz, and Roach pulled a whole prank on Price during your team’s vacation while Ghost sat behind and watched with amusement in his eyes. Or when you and Roach hid one of Price’s hats unknowing that it was a piece of memorabilia of his old teammate, and as result, making that poor old dad all stressed out finding it everywhere. Or when Price decided to catch you two and make you face the consequences of your actions that time and you were so scared that you never run that fast out of battle before. Or when you had no choice but to hide behind Ghost as he was watching his favorite boring documentaries, and he looked down at you obviously contemplating whether he should help you or not as you tried to convince him with your big puppy eyes. Or when you disobeyed Price’s orders to turn back and save Soap when he fell into the enemy’s trap and was pushed into the corner.

You laughed to yourself at this point, remembering vividly what a mess that time was. You two almost blindly fired your guns at the swarm of enemies circling you. As you barely escaped, Soap cursed very loudly in Scottish while his hand threw bombs toward your enemies. It was a mission that you would never forget, a piece of memory that you’d take to the grave, not only because of how badly injured you were and the prolonged period of time you had to spend in the hospital, but also because of how Soap looked at you. After that near-death experience, whenever your eyes and his met, his eyes evidently softened, and you enjoyed every little second of it. It made you feel like, eventually, you were special to someone, like you weren’t just anybody, but someone unique that was closely linked to a hardly forgettable remembrance. It raised your hope–something that you had thought to never regain, since at least when you died, there would still be one person who would keep the image of you inside one of their billion fragments of memory.

Of course, after the certain mission, both you and Soap were heavily reprimanded by Kate and Price, you for the obvious reason of disobeying orders, and Soap for his stupid addiction to blowing things up, which worsened you two’s already horrendous injuries because at the time of the explosion you were still too close to the spot.

“What are you smiling about?” You jumped at the sudden voice that broke the room’s silence.

Soap laughed at your reaction, “Why are you so tense?” He sat down, being so near to you that your thighs touched each other. He threw his big muscular arm over your shoulder, grinning broadly, “Temme, what is so fun that you smile like that?”

“It’s nothing.” You blushed at how close you two were, silently praying that the light of the room was too feeble for him to notice.

He pinched your face, causing you to grimace, “I don’t believe ya. It’s so rare to see ya smile so cutely like this. Must have some special reason.”

Definitely you could not tell him that you were thinking of the team, and especially him, so you decided to keep silent and enjoy your meal. Maintaining eye contact was like torture to you, so your eyes were just glued to the plate until you finished. Therefore, you also missed his eyes, along with how he looked at you.

From Soap’s point of view, all that he could see at that moment was how lovely his boy was. The way his big puppy eyes widened when he suddenly talked. The way his body which was athletic but so slender when compared to Soap’s trembled slightly as he jumped. How the faint blush quickly deepened and then spread from his handsome adorable face to his delicate neck. The nice and warm feeling that Soap’s fingers felt when he pinched the boy’s cheek. And also how his long eyelashes shadowed his eyes as he looked down at his plate of food. It was so lovely that Soap volunteered to be trapped in this moment forever.

As you’d done eating and washing the dish, you came back into the dining room and saw Soap still sitting there.

The Scot chuckled at your expression, “What is that face, Y/n? Are you that annoyed because I’m still here?”

You unknowingly pouted, which only made you look even cuter in his eyes, “No.”

“Ghost is watching his stupid boring documentaries again. Wanna join?”

“You came here from the TV room?”

“Yeah. Now do you come or not?”

You scoffed, “Are you inviting me nicely or just gonna coerce me into it anyway?”

Soap didn’t reply, just amusingly shrugged his shoulders.

“Fine, I’ll come.”

“That’s my boy!” The older man approached you, then threw his arm over your shoulder again. Judging from how you barely kept up with his pace in this awkward position, he definitely coerced you into this by all means.

When you two arrived, the light in the TV room was turned off, and the only source of light left was the TV screen. Ghost was sitting on the sofa alone, eyes glued to the screen that was playing some kind of dinosaur fossils, while Price was sleeping in his favorite spot–the single couch. You swiftly looked around to see if Gaz and Roach were here or not, only to find the two idiots hugging each other on the carpet, drooling and snoring loudly.

Ghost turned his head to look at you and Soap as you were literally pushed into the room by the Scot. His out-of-nowhere eagerness strangely made you laugh.

“Daddy chill.” You jokingly said and sat down beside Ghost, completely overlooking how Soap’s flippant expressions froze for brief seconds.

“Finished your dinner?” Ghost suddenly spoke up.

You were taken aback simply because the masked man hardly ever cared what others were doing with their life outside of missions, particularly for some trivial things like taking care of your daily needs.

“Y-yes, Sir!”

Soap burst into laughter, so hard that he fell to your side, hugging his belly.

“LMAO! What was that, Y/n??? You’re scared of Ghost that much???”

“What? What???” You frowned in confusion. You were even more confused when you heard a soft chuckle from the masked man that was sitting on your left.

“Why are you two laughing? There’s nothing funny!”

“It is funny! Do you see how you shudder like a puppy under Ghost’s glare? I wish I had recorded it!”

“Gosh! I hate you Soap!” You growled under your breath as you launched your whole body into him while Soap was still barely able to put himself together from his stupid sense of humor.

You two soon began to fight each other, giggling like two mischievous kids, completely forgetting that there was Ghost right next to you, who probably got accidental punches and kicks continuously by the unaware manchildren. However, the masked man was not mad at you two for disturbing him from enjoying his favorite show at all; instead, he often stole glances at you two with pure delight in his eyes. Seeing you finally being able to relax among the team was a sight that he wanted to witness all his life. It would take more time for you to pull down the walls you had built around yourself and let them come inside, but for now, this was already enough.

After a while, the giggling and fighting noises abated. You were sleeping soundly, face on Soap’s broad chest and arms around his waist. Soap’s eyes softened as he looked at how peaceful you were at the moment, before looking up to meet Ghost’s. The two men stayed in their position, didn’t move an inch, until Soap fell his eyelids become heavier and fell asleep as well, and Ghost turned off the TV, thereby extinguishing the only source of light in the room. He rested his head on your lower back, slowly drifting off.

To be continued...

#cod x male reader #ghost x male reader #soap x male reader #male reader #call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #cod roach #terminate my acc once more time i'll kys #cod angst #depression #mention of trauma #fluff #cod fluff #ghost loves dinosaurs #soap is simping over male reader #uwu #price is a tired dad #i need to stop messing with price lmao #💀💀💀 #ghost cod #soap cod #ghost mw2 #gay #johnny soap mactavish #call of duty mw2 #ghostsoap #stray dog

[softestnatalie]

Abandoned corridors of the heart

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x female!reader

Timing: Season 1

Chapter Summary: Your group arrives at the CDC and things don't go exactly as planned. Daryl seems to regret the words he’s said.

Warnings: alcohol use, characther death, dead bodies

Autor's note: I really love this chapter 'cause Daryl and reader finally have their first honest moment together (even tho they're drunk lol). Also, I am so sorry for the long wait, school is really time consuming, but I hope you can unterstand. Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated and the support would really help me. Have fun reading <3

Chapter 4: Just for one moment

Your eyes followed Jim as the van started moving again, his body leaning against a tree with his eyes closed as he tried to fall asleep in peace. Your heart cracked a little more at the state he was in; his skin bright red and glowing, showing how much he must have been burning up from the inside, the droplets of sweat running down his face and neck only proving the point.

He refused to go any further with you and your group, his body hurting unbearably and the fear of putting just a single one of his people in danger because of his bite made him stay right there - beside the road - as the rest of you drove away.

Leaving him behind hurt you more than you'd like to admit, your hands grabbing the fabric of your dirty jeans harshly as you forced yourself to let him go. You hadn't known him for long - only four days - but he was kind - kind enough to let you stay with him and his friends even though none of them knew you.

With a heavy sigh leaving your lips, you sat down on your knees, still looking out the window and watching as the woods around you blurred when Dale sped up the van. It was quiet - awfully quiet - and the tension inside the moving vehicle was thick enough to cut with a knife, the loss of yet another member of the group affecting everybody.

"You okay?" Glenn whispered after a few more minutes of silence, trying to be as private as possible, though you were sure the others could hear him just fine.

You didn't react at first and Glenn thought that maybe you didn't even realise he was talking to you but then you turned your head, staring at him with an expression he could only describe as pained. You nodded slowly even though both of you knew it was a lie.

The asian boy bit his lip in concern, not sure if he should just drop it, "You sure?" He whispered again after a moment, deciding to ask you a second time.

And as if that one simple question was enough to hurt you, your facade crumbled, the blank expression you had on your face molded into a quivering lip and furrowed eyebrows. Before you could do anything to stop it, your throat clenched tightly as a sob broke through. It was too much for you. Death and blood was all you could see in that moment - three people in just one night; Amy, Jim, and your mother. Deep down you'd always known that she'd leave someday, sooner ot later. It wasn't supposed to be this soon though.

Gleen's eyebrows shot up in shock when he heard your cries, looking around and seeing everyone's eyes directed on your tiny figure. He hesitated for a second before he reached out his arm, wrapping it around your shoulder and pulling you into his side carefully, trying to give you a small piece of comfort. Though it only made you cry harder. Your nails were digging into your palms, your body tensing as you wished to be somewhere else - alone.

Andrea placed one of her hands over yours, squeezing it softly and telling you silently that she understood your pain. You didn't look at her but you were thankful.

A few hours later, the van stopped in front of a road blockade. Glenn stood up, forcing you to lift your head off of his chest as you got back on your feet as well, following him out of the vehicle. Your arm flew over your face - covering your mouth and nose - as soon as you stepped outside, the corpses on the street making the air smell way too bad.

The group stumbled over the dead bodies, Shane and Rick leading all of you to the huge, white building with their guns raised, ready to shoot if something was to attack them.

"Keep moving, come on," Rick said, looking behind him to make sure everybody was following along.

Shane tried to pull up the shutters while Rick banged on them, trying to get inside or to make whoever was living in that building realise you were there. Though nobody showed a sign of letting you all in and you figured the CDC was empty.

You jumped when Daryl started yelling all of a sudden, raising his crossbow, "Walkers!"

Before you could even react on your own, Glenn grabbed your shoulder, forcing to to hide behind him, shotgun in hand and ready to shoot, "Stay there, okay?" He looked at you with a worried yet serious expression, "Right behind me, you understand?"

You nodded in agreement. Not only because you trusted him but also beause you didn't have any kind of weapon with you, making it quite impossible for you to protect yourself.

Everybody was tense and disappointed, the hope of getting help - maybe even some kind of cure - gone. Just gone. Shane was trying to think of another plan - another place for you to go - while Rick didn't want to accept your defeat.

"You're killing us! You're killing us!" He screamed repeatedly as he continued to bang on the shutters. And it was honestly starting to scare you, the noise attracting even more walkers, Daryl taking care of them.

"There's no one there!" Shane yelled and grabbed Rick roughly by the collar of his sheriff uniform, pulling him away and forcing him to come with the rest of the group.

And just then, the shutters opened, a bright light making you wince and cover your eyes.

Everybody's movements paused, looking at the now open building in shock - almost disbelief. Someone was there. A doctor. Alive. Your mouth dropped slightly as you realised there was still a chance. Hope.

"Come on," Glenn whispered to you, following Rick and Shane inside in small, carful steps.

The inside was - you didn't even know how to describe it - but you guessed beautiful was an accurate word. Clean. It looked almost innocent - as if everything was still normal.

"Hello?" Rick called out.

The clicking sound of a gun was heard, "Anybody infected?" A blonde, old looking man made his way towards you, keeping his gun raised.

Rick swallowed loudly, "One of our group was," he lowered his head, "He didn't make it."

The mention of Jim made another frown appear on your face, thinking that if the doctor in front of you had any kind of medicine to stop the infection, Jim wouldn't be able to recieve it anymore.

"Why are you here? What do you want?" The man asked so quickly you almost couldn't understand his words.

"A chance," you spoke up when nobody knew what to say, "We want a chance."

The man's eyes drifted towards you, noticing you for the first time. He seemed to think about your words before he eventually agreed, "You all submit to a blood test."

Later that night, Jenner let you all have dinner with him and to say you were fascinated by the dishes on the table would be an understatement. Real food, right in front of you, something you all hadn't seen in weeks. It made you crack a tiny smile, being beyond grateful for the doctor's hospitality.

"You know, in Italy, children have a little bit of wine with dinner," Dale laughed as he filled Lori's glass with the red substance, "And in France."

Lori shook her head and covered Carl's glass with her hand, taking a sip of her wine, "Well, and when Carl is in Italy or France, he can have some."

The group laughed again and everyone seemed to be in a good mood for once, wearing big smiles and grins on their faces. And even though you were still really sad about your recent loss, you managed to have a good time, laughing when Carl was allowed to taste a tiny sip, watching as he swallowed it with a grimace, an 'ewww' leaving his lips.

"Now ya, (y/n)," Daryl's voice surprised you, "I wanna see how red yer face can get," He walked towards you with a wine bottle in his left hand and, surprisingly, with his lips formed in a teasing smile. You didn't think you would ever get to see Daryl smile. Acutally smile.

"Oh no, no no," you shook your head and waved your hands around, but it was no use, he was already filling your glass up, not even giving you time to take it yourself. Instead, he took it with one hand, the other grabbing the back of your head as he brought the glass up to your lips, making you drink a bit of it.

"Here, easy, girl," he said as he put the glass on the table, the group laughing once again when they saw your pursed lips, the red liquid running down the corners of your mouth.

"You got a little something on your face," Glenn teased as you swallowed and used your arm to clean your chin.

"Ha ha," you poked your tongue at him before chuckling as well, then looking at Daryl, who was still grinning.

If a little bit of alcohol gets him like this, I'll have to get him drunk more often, you thought. It was nice to see him in a better mood, less serious and guarded. And if you were being as open as you could be; the dimples that formed when he smiled looked quite pretty on him. You have had thoughts like that before - about him - but you chose to ignore them whenever they came up at night, knowing it was for the better, wanting to protect your heart from any more pain. And even though it might sound harsh; Daryl wasn't really the type of man your mother would have approved of.

After dinner, Jenner showed you the rooms your group could stay in. 6. Exactly 6 rooms - which of course wasn't enough for everybody to have their own, so the rooms had to get shared. Rick with Lori and Carl, Dale with Andrea, Carol with Sophia, T-Dog with Jacqui, and Shane with Glenn, leaving you with Daryl.

Glenn gave you an apologetic look as he walked off with Shane, making you pout like a little child. You were hoping to share a room with him since he was the closest to you out of the group. You were also quite drunk after Daryl had poured you another glass, and staying with said man - who apparently only liked you when he was inebriated - was making you a little too nervous.

He swung his arm over your shoulder, pulling you into him with a rather rough motion which made you yelp in surprise, "Come on, girl," he slurred his words and you were honsetly a little scared he wouldn't even remember the night the next morning, "Let's get us to bed," he started walking the both of you into the room, closing the door with his foot, almost slamming it shut, the loud noise ringing through the hallway.

"I can take the floor," you said, looking at the single bed - blanket folded neatly on top of it - and untangling his arm from around your neck. You waited a few seconds but when you didn't get an answer, you looked into his direction.

Big mistake.

"Daryl!" you exclaimed, averting your eyes as quickly as they had found him, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Gonna take a shower," he mumbled and eyed you a little confused once he had the buttons off his shirt open, his chest still covered though, "Wha', barbie? Never seen skin 'fore?" He walked into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

You scoffed at his words, rolling your eyes and plopping down on the bed, waiting for Daryl to finish his shower so you could wash yourself as well. Again, something you all hadn't done in weeks. You took the time alone to sober up a little bit, your brain becoming only the tiniest bit clearer.

You were hoping your group could stay here on long terms. Doctor Jenner didn't tell you how long your group was allowed to be there, but if everything turned out to be as good as it seemed, you really thought your group had a chance of actually living at the CDC. If Jenner let you, that is. You would be safe, the shutters making sure that no walker could ever get inside, enough food and water for at least a few months, and real beds to sleep on. Almost as normal as the life each of you had had before the apocalypse started. Almost.

"'M done," his gruff voice pulled you out of your thoughts, your eyes finding his frame, dressed into the same, dirty clothes with his hair wet and drops of water dripping down his forehead.

You nodded and stood up, rushing into the bathroom with quite a lot of eagerness, "You better didn't use up all the hot water," you spoke loud enough so he could hear you through the door. He didn't anwser.

You took your clothes off hastily and you couldn't help the loud sigh that left your lips when the dirty garments were finally not on your skin anymore. The thought of having to put them on again disgusted you. The cold air made goosebumps rise on your pale body so you finally stepped inside the shower and turned on the water. Your mouth opened in a silent moan once the warm substance hit you, your head dropping back, savoring the sensation you hadn't felt in so long.

The transparent liquid turned into a brownish colour as you rubbed your skin, getting weeks of dirt and the proof of basically living on the streets off of you. It was quite fascinating how something so normal - something people used to do on a daily basis - can become something so special once it gets taken away from them. And you were sure that if life would ever return to normal, you would appreciate every single meal, every single shower, and every single night you would get to sleep on a bed.

A few minutes later, you turned off the water, wishing you could stay inside the shower a little longer, but you didn't want to use too much of the doctor's water, so you stepped out with another sigh, shivering at the cold once again as your body had to get used to the air. You dried yourself with a towel before you put your clothes back on, taking a mental note to wash them as soon as possible.

The mirror on the wall showed you what you had been so scared of seeing and you really couldn't even recognise yourself anymore. You felt as if a completely different person - a stranger - was staring back at you. Your skin much paler than you had ever seen it before, cheekbones and jawline way more visible than they had been just a few weeks ago, eye bags decorating your face, and your hair was - even though you brushed it as often as possible - tangled.

The sight made you frown visibly. Who even were you anymore?

You didn't want to have to see your reflection any longer so you left the bathroom in a hurry. Though, you stopped in your tracks when you saw Daryl lying on the floor right next to the bed. His body was slightly curled up and he didn't move so you guessed he was already asleep. You didn't miss the fact that he purposely left the bed to you, though, you didn't know if that made you feel happy or frustrated. You didn't want him to sleep on the floor because of you and, really, you would have been fine with taking the hard surface. And if he would have been awake you certainly would have argued with him, but he wasn't and you didn't want to wake him up. He didn't seem to sleep that much as it was so you climbed into bed as silently as possible, not wanting to make too much noise.

"Didn' mean it," you had just laid down when his voice rang through the room in a quiet whisper, making you turn your head to look into his direction, even though you couldn't properly see him from where you were laying.

"What do you mean?" You asked him, not knowing what he was talking about.

It was quiet fot a few seconds and you were sure that he really had fallen asleep this time but then he spoke up again, "What I said," he started, "At the camp. 'Bout y'all deservin' what happened. Didn' mean it."

You thought about his words and realised that this was probably his was of saying sorry. You didn’t think he would even try to apologise but there he was, telling you he didn't mean what he had said. And maybe he didn't notice, but the small smile on your face showed how much that meant to you. You hoped he would be just as nice to you when he was fully sober, but a part of you was sure he wouldn't be. Still, the fact that he cared about what you thought was enough for you in that moment.

"I know."

Tag list:

@goth-cowgirl-03 @paintlavillered @hotgirlsshareaccounts @tiedyedghoulette @alialiclouds @angelofthorr

#twd daryl #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon #daryl dixon twd #daryl twd #twd #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead #rick grimes #shane walsh #carol twd #carol peletier #merle dixon #carl grimes #lori grimes #t dog #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl fanfiction #daryl x you

[the-peak-tmnt]

So Leo sees the world through Raphs or his other brothers eyes right? Does it look normal or is it like fuzzier or blurrier? Or maybe the vision isn't blurry but the comprehension of whats happening blurs in and out a little bit?? I bet Leos perspective of everything happening is so disorientating and sad. Anyway here's a drawing I did. I really like your work!

AHHHH THIS IS INCREDIBLE!!!

Holy shit, I love this so much! The colors are amazing, especially with Leo and his shadow against them. And the way he’s boxed in to reflect his captivity…incredible imagery! Raph and Mikey's expressions are just so perfect, too! Just WOW dude! I’m so blown away by your visual interpretation of what Leo is seeing!!!

Thank you so much for the fan art 😭 It’s impossible to express how much it means to me when people are inspired by the story enough to create something. Seriously just so, so, SO rewarding, and it inspires me right back! THANK YOU!

Also, I love this question! I'm absolutely dying to reveal more about how the mental link between the brothers works, and how Leo experiences the world  beyond the place he’s being kept through Raph.

If things go according to plan, we will learn more about this in about 3 to 4 chapters. But I can’t help myself but give a little bit away early since you asked! If you aren’t afraid of some tiny spoilers, I’ll add more below the cut!

SPOILERS (KINDA?)

You totally hit the nail on the head! I literally have the word “disorienting” in my WIP document for a later chapter, because that’s the perfect description of how it feels for Leo at first.

As he continues to develop his skills over time, things become clearer whenever he “tags along” with Raph. He didn’t lie to Raph in Chapter 13 about not being able to hear Raph’s thoughts as clearly as he can when they’re in the dream room together. When Raph is awake and Leo is tagging along, he’s perceiving Raph’s sensory experience more so than his emotional state.

The turtles’ emotional states DO affect the “quality” of the connection, though. It’s implied that Leo’s been experiencing whatever media Raph is watching through the mind link, and that it’s clear enough that Leo can even hear dialogue. That’s because Raph is relaxed and (more or less) content when just hanging out watching YouTube or a movie.

The more unsettled, upset, or distressed Raph is, the less Leo can connect. This is why Leo tells Raph “I couldn’t feel you for a while” in Chapter 6. Raph had a panic attack/dissociative episode after speaking with Splinter, so Leo wasn’t able to connect with him at all. Leo doesn’t understand that’s what happened, though, thinking instead he maybe pushed the limits of their connection too far…

That being said, how everything works could very well change…if Raph ever decides to pick up that book again 😉

PS: I am losing my mind that you included Casey as something Leo saw! Because even though Raph/the reader doesn’t know it yet, Leo is aware that Casey has entered Raph’s life and this is IMPORTANT AHHHHHHH

#reciprocity asks #reciprocity fic #reciprocity #tmnt #tmnt mutant mayhem #mutant mayhem #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt mm #tmnt fandom #tmnt fanart #tmnt fanfic #mm raph #mm mikey #mm leo #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt fic

[sapphicthunderhead]

Listening to Ep 8, I cannot help but extrapolate on the repeated references to both hunger and loneliness and make inferences as to what it might mean about the nature of whatever Entity is enacting its will upon this Brutalist Liminal space and Mr. Stevens during his tenure working within said.

Thoughts:

1. Human beings share meals & eat together as a communal activity, and have done so throughout history. The connection between physical hunger and social isolation is not a reach.

2. Mr. Stevens is a middle-aged divorcee, and thus likely a prime target for the Forsaken. Liminal spaces and the “repetitive geometric shapes” mentioned in his discussion of Brutalism are immediately evocative of the Spiral. But as the Fears have been altered by their journey across Universes, we can surmise that whatever Entity suffers from this “architectural hunger” Stevens is sensing, it is not as simple as a place that blurs the line between those two fears.

3. Mr. Stevens’ successive discussions of the “overdevelopment of UK road infrastructure” and the permeation of trash deposited throughout Forton strongly evokes the memory of Extinction statements from TMA.

3. Oh. Those are the lights of cars going by, hanging still over the asphalt. But the cars are nowhere to be seen. Fucking haunting imagery.

4. Did you say “pork?” Did you mean “long pig?” Am I sensing traces of a new incarnation of Viscera? (Am I still very much trapped in the TMA universe mindset? It appears so.)

5. A mere “impression of speech,” as Andrea Nunis heard in MAG 48: Lost in the Crowd? When I visualize the figures in the restaurant, why do I see AI images of people?

6. “You Are Here,” the avatars say. Shall we call this entity the Presence, or the Absence?

7. Cannibals. I knew it. Maybe we should refer to their governing Entity as Hunger.

8. Stevens’ remark about no one noticing his absence reminds me of Martin’s comments upon his return from his incarceration at the hands of Prentiss. He’s a lonely guy, lowercase l.

9. Is that. Is that jealousy I hear, Alice?

10. Is….. that…. OH MY GOD. oh my god.. OMFG IT IS GERRRYYYYYYY AND GERTRUDEEEEEEEEE WHAT THE FUCK

11. Gifted Kids’ Program??? I’m having flashbacks…

12. The painting has eyes in it, doesn’t it, Gerry? You’re going to spy on her, is that it?

13. Physics? My beloved? My chosen discipline? Celia, I think you’d be on the right track researching higher dimensions and other universes (both implied by String Theory, but very different ideas), but teleportation? In my mind, that concept is more closely tied to quantum entanglement and therefore Quantum Gravity as a candidate for the Unified Field Theory. Those are competing ideas, but I enjoy researching both, so I suppose in cannon there’s no harm to exploring all avenues…?

14. DID SHE SAY GEORGIE—

#the magnus archives #tma #the magnus protocol #tmagp #tmagp spoilers #tma spoilers