#and i replied to this so EVERYONE who has EVER read my stupid fics KNOWS that I don't WANT DUCKING CONCRIT

[shellshocklove]

just crazy love | joel miller

pairing/AU: 70s!pornstar!joel miller x inexperienced!female reader

summary: joel had hurt you badly, but can you forgive him?

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! reader is 23, joel is in his early 30s, accuracies and inaccuracies about the 70s and the porn industry, smoking of cigarettes (it's the 70s alright), mentions and drinking of alcohol, misogyny (bc of the times™), readers uncle is a character in this but his name is not mentioned and there's no description of looks, angst, swearing, use of pet names, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, squirting, unprotected sex (don't do it!!), praise kink, some size kink (pornstar!joel has a big dick), soft!dom joel, no use of y/n

a/n: this is part three and the last part to my little 70s!pornstar!joel mini-series. i'm overwhelmed by the love i got on the previous part. i honestly thought everyone had forgotten about the orginal one shot as it had been so long 💀 i really appreciate all of you who's left a comment, reply or sent me an ask! makes my heart all mushy 🥺 thank you to @dustydaddyyy for all the help and for reading through it! <3

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3

On the way home from set, Joel started to think he’d fucked up.

You were so quiet, quieter than you usually were, and it made him worried. After wrapping his scene with Cheryl, he’d immediately looked for you, but your place in the corner where you’d stood watching was empty. He’d noticed you slip out during his scene but thought nothing of it as he knew being on set wasn’t your favorite, but then you came back, and Joel had found it hard to conceal his happiness behind his acting.

His head had been filled with memories and fantasies, memories and fantasies of you. The look you’d get in your eyes when he kissed you, blown out and wide. The feel of your soft hand wrapped around him this morning, the feel of your wet pussy tight around his cock. The sweet taste of you on his tongue. Shit. You were intoxicating. Joel couldn’t get you out of his head– and he didn’t want to try either. One look at you and those pretty eyes, and he came harder during a scene than he can remember ever doing – no need to fake any groans or moans.

It had been a long time since Joel had felt something so strongly for another woman. It must’ve been his high school sweetheart, he thought, that first teenage love, that all-consuming love that made that one special girl feel like the most important person in the world. And sure, after he moved to LA he’d dated, had a couple of girlfriends, but it never went anywhere, and his job, his job always made it complicated. Joel didn’t want complicated– so he stopped dating and got his fill of human touch through his work instead. It made his life easy, but then he’d seen you at the bar by yourself at Tommy’s club, and Joel didn’t want easy anymore.

Joel was a charming man; those southern manners had gotten him far in life, and especially with the ladies – it was no secret. And maybe he’d turned it up a few notches that night, he could admit that – hoping it would hook you in. He’d almost gone against his own rule. The rule he’d set for himself after one particularly nasty break-up a few years back: his rule of no sex outside work. He’d told himself he was protecting himself– protecting himself from getting involved into something complicated again, from getting hurt, or hurting someone he cared for. But then he’d met you, danced with you, talked to you, and Joel didn’t care about protecting himself anymore.

You weren’t someone to take home at the end of the night for a quick fuck. You were so sweet, and shy, he couldn’t help but want to get to know you better. Learn what made you smile, what books you liked, what music you listened to, but also what noises you made when you fell apart. In that dark dingy club, Joel had realized how special you were.

Maybe it was stupid what he did? He could’ve gotten your number a number of ways, but the alcohol was talking and suddenly he was offering you a job before really thinking it through – but at least he had a reason to see you again.

You were a good assistant, and he appreciated the work you did for him, his life had gotten much easier after hiring you. But you were so professional, and what Joel wanted to do to you was unprofessional. You kept on top of his schedule, took his phone calls, scheduled meetings, predicted what he needed before he even knew he wanted it. You were nothing short of a great assistant, but the more he worked with you it was clear that there were things about his job you weren’t as comfortable with – and Joel couldn’t blame you. From the outside his job was unusual, and fucking on camera wasn’t for everybody, but Joel had come to know – it especially wasn’t for you.

A couple of months in, Joel had started to think you were a virgin. At first, he thought it was just your steadfast professionalism, but your reactions to what he considered normal things in his line of work, made him wonder. Not that there was anything wrong with you being a virgin, he just couldn’t understand how anyone could look at you and not want you to be theirs. And maybe it was wrong, but it turned him on a little too, something possessive deep inside loving the thought of you being his, and only his.

He wanted you, wanted you to be his, and the more he got to know you, the more he had to fight to hold back his growing feelings. Joel could hide behind his personality, hide behind the way he loved to flirt, loving the way you squirmed from his compliments– from his teasing. It was cute, it was so goddamn cute, but it didn’t fix the ache he had inside only you could sooth.

After Pismo Beach, Joel knew he was fucked. In the car on the way back to LA he’d had trouble watching anything except your face; the beautiful glimmering sea you drove along might as well have been an oily puddle for all he cared. Nothing was sweeter than watching you hum along to the Joni Mitchell cassette you played on repeat. Joni’s mezzo-soprano clung in his ear like a warning. Yes, help me, he was falling in love too fast, but damn if it didn’t feel good.

Now a different song filled the space of his car, as he drove you home. Crosby, Stills & Nash’s melodic guitar picking hummed a low tune, their three-part harmonies flowing from his car speakers.

“Heartlessly helping himself to her bad dreams, he worries.”

So yeah, Joel was worried. That rosy hue that had been tinting his world when he looked at you, had now faded to a drab dirty pink. You didn’t even look at him, and hadn’t muttered as much as a word to him since he found you in his trailer – where you’d been flicking through his papers from the meeting – after the scene ended.

“’s everythin’ alright?” Joel spoke across the silence that had grown between you.

You didn’t move your head from where it rested against the window; your face bathed in red from the sea of brake lights on the freeway. You weren’t moving much, so Joel allowed himself a good look at you. He watched the way your body curled in on itself in the seat, your fingers picking at your nailbeds – it made him pull his brows in a tight frown.

“Did he hear a goodbye, or even hello?”

With a brave hand he reached out to touch you, stroking the back of his hand against your cheek. “Hey,” he said, “did ya hear me, my sweet girl?”

“They are one person. They are two alone. They are three together. They are for each other.”

You pulled away from his touch immediately, shifting in your seat, and Joel felt his heart sink in his chest. “I’m fine,” you muttered, an unfamiliar sting in your voice.

A loud honk behind him released Joel from the shock from your tone, and his hand that had been previously dancing along your delicate skin, fell to the gear stick. Releasing the clutch slowly, Joel’s car rolled forward, following the slug traffic. You clearly weren’t fine.

“Stand by the stairway, you’ll see something certain to tell you, confusion has its cost.”

Joel let the music fill the space while you stayed quiet, a bubbling panic settling in his chest as the day played on repeat in his head. Everything had been so great earlier, until it wasn’t. He’d seen it in you after the meeting. Joel knew he should’ve said something, and he’d simmered with it all throughout the meeting, but Joel also knew better than to speak against Ronald in a setting like that.

Ronald was the best thing that had happened to Joel’s career. He was a big name in the porn industry, only managing the very best in the game. Eight years had passed since Ronald had discovered Joel.

It had been the summer of ‘67, his first year in LA already in the rear view. He’d come with a guitar case and a dream of making something of himself. Joel had chased that dream around in circles, and a year into it, he’d been free falling towards rock bottom. The gigs he’d dreamt would line up as soon as his feet touched the hot Californian sand, never came, and had it not been for Tommy, who’d made the move with him, he’d be homeless.

The whole exchange had been bizarre. Tommy was working as a busboy at a club on The Strip at the time, and as an employee, Tommy got a discount at the bar. Joel knew how to take advantage of his little brother’s benefits, and occupied a seat at the bar every weekend where he drank almost free booze, and flirted himself to a one night stand, or two, or three.

He’d sat by the bar one Saturday like usual when a man sat down in the seat next to him. Joel paid him no mind at first, continuing to smoke his cigarette and enjoy his whiskey. Then the man had started talking to him, asking if he knew this girl he’d slept with last week. He was about to deny ever having talked to someone matching this girl’s description, concerned that this man was a husband or a crazy ex-boyfriend of some sort, when the man started telling him that she dabbled in porn. Nothing crazy, just some nude photoshoots here and there, but she’d told him all about Joel and his impressive package.

Joel was about to tell the man to go fuck himself – the conversation twisting into something way too weird for Joel to navigate – when the man, Ronald, had offered to manage him. 

Sure, Joel was gifted, blessed, some might even say, but it had sounded too good to be true: getting paid the big bucks for just having sex? At the time, it had sounded like every man’s pipe dream but now, Joel owed Ronald everything.

If the movie deal with VCA went through, Joel’d owe him even more. It was a miracle he was this sought after in the first place. The top consumers of porn, Joel knew, and he supposed the entire porn industry knew, were predominantly men looking for big boobs and a willing woman, neither of which he was. But the tide was turning with the rise of the women’s movement, and Ronald had thrown his net into the pool of opportunity at the exact right moment.

The cynical part of Joel told him it paid his bills – he’d been so desperate in that club – but now, now he was living large as his popularity had continued to grow, and grow, and grow. He’d paved his path towards success, towards the success he’d dreamed about those eighth years ago. And sure, it felt good to be sought after and desired by women everywhere, but if he was being honest, the only woman he wanted to be desired by in this moment, was you.

He loved your gentle nature, that shy, almost timid, way you looked at him. No one had looked at him like that before. It felt so much more real, but it was like something was always holding you back, like you could never allow yourself to just be, always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Joel recognized that feeling, he did. He was from the south after all, and as far as his family was concerned, Joel was a sinner. That guilt they instilled in him– he’d sat with that a long time, years spent learning not to hate himself for the choices he’d made, unlearning years of shame. To not feel guilty about his desires, to embrace all that life had to offer with open arms, to dream, to eat until he was full and still have room for dessert.

“Love isn’t lying, it’s loose in a lady who lingers.”

Clearing his throat, Joel spoke again, “Somethin’ ‘s clearly wrong, sweet girl.”

“Please don’t call me that,” you sighed, voice strained like you were close to crying. The broken sound of you shattered something inside him.

“Saying she is lost, and choking on hello.”

Finally, the traffic picked up its pace, and Joel changed gear, gaining speed for the first time since you got on the freeway.  

“My sweet girl?” he asked, “I thought you liked that?”

Crosby, Stills & Nash sang their last lines, before the song faded into some disco song Joel had never heard before. It was loud and obnoxious, and your answer drowned in the beat. Joel’s hand was on the volume button in less than a second, turning it down.

“I didn’t,” you repeated in a whisper, “I don’t.”

You shifted your body closer to the door, and Joel knew he had to do something to make you feel better.

“How about…” he started, his hand shifting from the gear stick to land on the thick of your thigh, “I’ll drive us back to my place, and we’ll pick up where we left of this mornin’, huh? Would that make ya feel better?”

You crossed your leg over the other, making his hand slip from your thigh. “I’m too tired, Joel– it’s been a long day… and I didn’t get enough sleep,” you sighed, eyes closed and defeated.

“You sure? Swe–” Joel cut himself off before he could say it, the sweetness turning bitter on his tongue.

You didn’t answer, didn’t look at him, didn’t let him touch you. Something tightened in his chest. You were slipping away like sand through his fingers.

Maybe this wasn’t about the meeting after all?

“’s this about Cheryl?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady and calm, to conceal the panic bubbling in his throat. “’s just for work– was just actin’.”

You took a deep breath, and held it before you spoke, like you were practicing what to say before you said it. “It’s fine, Joel– I’m not your girlfriend.”

Not his girlfriend. Not his. Never his.

This time he couldn’t look at you, his hand gripping tightly around the steering wheel as he glimpsed your apartment complex down at the next turn.

“I thought–” Shit. A breathless chuckle devoid of any joy left him. He was speechless. 

Pulling into the parking lot next to your car, Joel didn’t know what to do. He watched you gather your things, while the heaviness in his chest grew.

Was it over before it had even begun?

“I’m…” you drew a shaky breath, “I’ll see you at work.”

And then you were gone, slipping out the door and leaving Joel alone in the swollen silence of your absence. His heart hammered in his chest, his breathing growing shallower as he watched you hurry across the parking lot in the rear-view mirror.

Move you fucking idiot– run after her, his brain told him, but he couldn’t move an inch. Shit. Shit. Shit. His chest tightened, and tightened, his fingers clawing at the rough fabric of his jeans as he started gasping for air. He’d wanted you for so long, and now you were gone. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? With shaky hands he managed to roll down the window, the fresh evening air filled his lungs as he tried his best to calm down.

Joel had fucked up.

When Thursday rolled around, and Joel still hadn’t heard from you, he started to wonder if it was excessive to file a missing persons report. He’d tried to call you multiple times since Monday, but your phone was always off the hook. The hollow beeping of the busy signal doing nothing to calm the panic building in him since Monday.

He’d been so stupid, and he’d cursed himself for not seeing it sooner. Embarrassment suffocating him at the fact that it hadn’t settled in until Ronald had shown him the first rough cut of his chemistry test with Cheryl yesterday.

It had been Cheryl’s idea, the whole innocence thing. She’d pitched it to him after the meeting ended, telling him how excited she was for this opportunity, and how much she was looking forward to finally filming later. Joel had played along; he was at work after all – it was his job. So, he turned on the charm, tested the chemistry waters, and agreed. She was new to the industry and young, it made sense.

What didn’t make sense was what he’d called her. Sweet girl. He’d called Cheryl that multiple times without even realizing it – too lost in his thoughts of you, and how he wished it was you with your lips wrapped around him.

Joel was fucking stupid.

He’d convinced you to watch him get a blowjob from another woman right after you’d confessed to never having given head before. He knew you were inexperienced, but that had never mattered to him. Joel thought it was kinda nice to explore sex with you – to find out what you liked, and what you didn’t. It made it exciting again – it wasn’t just work. But hearing himself praise Cheryl for making him feel good was the last straw for him – he needed to apologize to you.

How he wished he’d been able to convince you to stay in bed that morning– to forget about the stupid fucking meeting. Finally, he’d had you. Finally, he could kiss you, and hold you, and make you feel good. The sweetness of you, of having had you, now bitter as he realized he’d probably never get that back.

Wiping a sweaty palm on his jeans, he tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for someone to buzz him into your apartment complex. He knew he shouldn’t be here, he could get you in trouble, but he needed to see you, to talk to you face to face.

“Hello?” a static voice croaked through the busted speakers of the rusting door buzzer.

“Pizza delivery,” Joel answered, and not a second later the door buzzed.

Trudging up the stairs the words he’d rehearsed played on a loop in his head: He know you probably don’t want to see him ever again, but he needed to apologize for what happened on Monday. He never meant to hurt you the way he did. He understands he was never your boyfriend, but that was what he wanted to be, and he’s sorry for the way he acted.

Stopping outside your apartment door he drew in a deep breath before he knocked. It felt like he stood there for hours waiting while nothing happened. That worry he’d felt for days now tugging harder at his neck. Joel knocked again, a little harder with the shout of your name, and added ‘It’s Joel’ for good measure. Again, nothing. When he repeated the action a third time, the door to the neighboring apartment flew open.

“She’s not home,” your neighbor told him, a hint of annoyance in her voice. She was dressed in a formless paisley patterned dress, hair thrown back in a low ponytail as she bounced a crying baby in her arms. When Joel’s eyes landed on the little girl in her arms, she told him, “You woke her up with all that banging.”

“I’m sorry ma’am,” he said earnestly, “I never meant to–” The baby screamed louder, face red from exertion.

“Sure, you didn’t,” she scoffed, with a roll of her eyes. She bounced her daughter, shifting her hold to hike her up over her shoulder, hand tap tapping at her back as she started to bounce her.

Sliding his hands into his jean pockets, Joel didn’t know what to do. Awkwardly he cleared his throat, tilting his head towards your door. “D’you–” Joel started, before your neighbor cut him off.

“No, but I saw her getting picked up by an older man about an hour ago.” Something about the judgement in her tone didn’t sit right with Joel.

He nodded at the information. Your uncle. Joel remembered now. Your uncle was coming to visit – taking you to dinner. What had you said on the phone again? An Italian place in Santa Monica?

Pulling his car keys from his pocket, he thanked your neighbor – making sure to apologize once again for the ruckus, before he hurried back down the stairs. He walked with long steps towards his car. The sun was setting on LA, turning the clouds and the city pink, but he paid the beautiful sight no mind, his eyes set on the Italian restaurant in Santa Monica where he knew Deborah worked.

“Well would you look at what the cat dragged in.”

Joel turned his head towards the source of the familiar voice, only to find himself eye to eye with Deborah, and her raised eyebrow.

The air smelled like garlic and basil, and the restaurant hummed with conversation over the sound of Dean Martin. She was adorning the restaurant’s waiter uniform, a short red dress over a white collared shirt, while balancing a tower of dirty plates in her hands. He almost didn’t recognize her, she looked so different from how he was used to seeing her – all dolled up at Tommy’s club.

“Deborah,” he acknowledged with a nod, plastering a polite smile on his face.

“Don’t you ‘Deborah’ me, Miller,” she told him with a scoff, placing the tower of dishes down on an empty table before crossing her arms over her chest and narrowing her eyes at him, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m lookin’ for–”

“I bet you are,” Deborah replied, raising an unimpressed brow, “She ain’t here.”

Joel sighed, his face pulling into a defeated smile. “I know she’s with her uncle, Deborah. She told me she was takin’ him to an Italian restaurant in Santa Monica– As far as I’m concerned, that’s this place.”

Deborah shrugged nonchalantly, and Joel felt himself start to get annoyed. “Sorry, haven’t seen her in months.”

“Deb,” Joel let out through an exasperated sigh, a hand coming up to rub his eye, “Listen, I–... I just came to apologize, okay? I did somethin’ stupid that I shouldn’t have, and I need to apologize to her f’it.”

Deborah scoffed at Joel’s words, shaking her head with a bitter smile. “I bet you did something stupid... always the same thing with you Millers, hm? You always do first and think later.”

Confused, Deborah’s tone made Joel raise a single eyebrow, “Sure we still talkin’ about me?”

He hadn’t heard much from Tommy about what had gone on between him and Deborah, but he knew it hadn’t been very pretty. Tommy had just broken up Maria for the umpteenth time when they’d started going around. It was never going to last, Joel knew it the second he’d met Deb. Tommy always came back to Maria somehow, it didn’t matter how badly it had ended – like an endless figure eight they’d always meet again in the middle.

“Potato, potahto,” she said with a falsely sweet smile.

“Look, I ain’t my brother, okay? Never have been, never will be. Now I ain’t got a clue what went down between the two of you, and I’m damn near sure he deserves all the rage you’ve got to throw at ‘him, but it ain’t my business to sort out, so don’t go makin’ it my business...”

Deb tightened her arms over her chest, green eyes glaring at him, still, Joel could see a twinkle of curiosity in her eyes, too. “Apologize for what? You dock her pay or something?”

“No,” Joel let out with an annoyed breath.

“So what, you fired her?”

“No, Deb,” Joel said again, his voice heavy with exasperation.

Deborah quieted down for a second as she scrutinized him, her eyes boring into him. Then, her eyes cleared, and she shook her head.

“You got handsy, didn’t you?” she asked eventually, raising a questioning eyebrow. Joel couldn’t hide the guilt on his face, it told her all she needed to know. Her hands fell to her sides, “Jesus Christ, Miller... don’t you get laid enough at work?”

“Look, it ain’t like that,” he said, shaking his head as he felt his cheeks heat up, which only embarrassed him more.

Joel Miller doesn’t blush.

When Deb crossed her arms again, expression expectant as she looked silently at him, Joel sighed. “Deb… I really like her– and I know ya’ll are friends, and you want to protect her, but you gotta give me a fair shot, too... I never meant to hurt her, but I did, and if I have to spend the rest of my life apologizin’ to her every single day then that’s what I’mma do, but I promise you, you’re going to get sick of me real quick.”

There was a moment of silence in which the two of them looked at each other, before Deb raised a finger to point at Joel, taking a step forward.

“You listen here, Miller,” she said, wagging it under his nose, “Just this once, I’m going to be nice to you, for old times’ sake... but if I so much as hear a squeak from her you’re acting like a bastard, then you bet your ass I’m coming the hell after you.”

Joel nodded slowly, pulling in a deep breath through his nose as he pursed his lips.

“Anythin’ else?” he asked, raising a semi-impressed eyebrow, but Deborah only scoffed at his tone, poking him in the chest a final time.

“Yeah, tell your brother to stop calling,” she said, looking up at him, before nodding towards the back of the restaurant, “Unlike her, I don’t give second chances.”

“I’ll pass it on,” Joel said with a nod, but his voice was already absent as he finally spotted your familiar shape sitting in a booth at the very back of the restaurant.

Twirling your fork absentmindedly through your spaghetti, you listened to your uncle yap on and on about the boys at the garage, and the car he’d just driven down here.

“It’s a beaut,” your uncle said through a mouthful of his own pasta, “1971 C3 model, nice dark green color Ralphie repainted. You know I’m not a convertible guy myself, can’t give up my truck, but I could see myself in one of them cars out here– apparently, it’s being sold to some high-profile actor or something.”

“Really?” you asked, trying to steer this never-ending one-sided conversation towards something somewhat interesting.

“Yeah, you know I don’t keep up with them celebrities, but I’m pretty sure I was talking to the client’s manager on the phone.”

You nodded, letting your fork fall to take a sip of your water. Your uncle hadn’t let you order yourself a glass of wine, the impression that you were still that innocent little girl you were back when you worked in his garage shop hard to shake. Your uncle, on the other hand, nursed his beer.

“That’s exciting,” you said with a small smile.

“Oh yeah, we’ve got this bet going at the shop about who it is–” Your uncle cut himself off as a broad figure approached your table. Looking up from your plate your breath hitched when you saw the man before you.

“Joel?” His name fell from your lips before you had time to think, your brows pulling together in confusion, before something tugged at the hurt in your heart. What was he doing here?

“Hi, sweetheart.” His face wore a quiet smile, eyes scanning over your form.

“W-what are you doing here?” you stuttered out, a panic racing in your chest while a lump formed in your throat. You couldn’t do this here, especially not in front of your uncle.

“I was in the neighborhood– saw y’all through the window and wanted to…” he trailed off, finally noticing your uncle. “Sorry, sir,” he reached out his hand to your uncle in a greeting, “Joel Miller, I’m–”

“Joel’s an actor,” you cut him off, “he starred in one of Mr. Cooper’s commercials a few months ago,” you lied.

You could see the kink in Joel brow at your lie, that quiet surprise he then played off with a charming smile. “Yeah, that’s right– a beer commercial, wasn’t it?” He looked at you with one eyebrow raised. Biting down on your lip you confirmed the lie with a nod.

“You do look a little familiar,” you uncle said, dragging the words out like he’s pulling them from his memory, “they show your commercial on the TV?”

“Oh, I haven’t been payin’ attention, but somethin’ like that,” Joel shrugged, shoving his hands in the front pockets of his tight Levis, his signature western belt buckle glinting in the low light. “Y’all mind if I join y’all for a drink?”

“Not at all,” your uncle smiled before you could say anything. Joel lifted his hand to get Deborah’s attention to order himself a beer, before he squeezed himself into the booth next to you, his knee bumping into yours as he got comfortable.

Having lost your appetite, you shifted your plate to the side to make room for Joel. It was a tight squeeze in the booth, the warmth of his body flooding your senses, the familiar scent of cigarettes and of his cologne making your heart ache.

How could you miss him, and hate him all at the same time?

Deborah served Joel his drink quickly, checking in at your table at the same time. Her eyes were focused on you as she cleared the table, asking you a silent ‘You okay?’ which you quickly nodded at. You knew she’d make up some crazy excuse to get you out of any situation, but you didn’t know if you could handle it if she did. It was easier to just suffer through. You’d suffered enough this past week; you could handle another hour.

The days since you’d seen Joel last had been spent between your bed and your couch. Unfocused eyes rolling over reruns as you let a blanket of numbness fall over you as the hours passed you by. You felt so tired, that kind of tired that sits in your stomach, heavy and pulling you down, every step a drag and every breath a strain. You’d isolated yourself for days, hadn’t showered for days, you were too tired to do it, and what did it matter anyway?

You’d tried to cry, but you couldn’t make the tears fall. You wanted the release, and to feel sorry for yourself, but nothing came. And what good would it do? Nothing. You were nothing. Nothing to yourself, nothing to Joel, and nothing to this lonely city. Just some small-town girl who thought she could change who she was, who she was always destined to be.

After two whole days on your couch, you had to get up, you had no choice. You wanted to cancel, to tell your uncle that you’d come down with the flu, but you knew he was driving all day, and you wouldn’t have a clue where to call to reach him. So, you’d sat up, ate a piece of bread, and had a shower. Every minute you tried to not think of Joel, tried to not think about the way he’d kissed you hello in your hallway, the way he'd held you through the night as you slept soundly in his arms, how his gaze had felt over your features on your way back from Pismo Beach – it was all too much. Every nice memory ruined by the way his voice had echoed ‘Sweet girl’ to Cheryl.

Sweet girl. Feels so good, my sweet girl– just like that. My sweet girl.

How stupid you’d felt hearing those words. You’d fooled yourself into thinking there was something more between you and Joel. You weren’t special, and that was the worst part, because he’d made you feel special. He’d made you feel desired– like he actually liked you. Or maybe that’s what hurt the most – to realize that to him you were just one girl among many.

You’d placed your phone back on the hook in the afternoon, anticipating your uncle’s call, and when it rang, you were relieved to hear his familiar voice down the line. It was all so complicated. The relief a strange mix with the suffocating memories of home. You were different now than when you worked at his shop. Still shy, but still different, more grown up and more independent. He didn’t know you anymore. No one knew you anymore– well except for one person.

You’d felt free with Joel– even before, when he was just your boss. He’d challenged you, made you come out of your shell, challenged your shame, and challenged your guilt. And watching Joel small talk with your uncle, you started to wonder if that was the reason why it had hit you so hard? Joel had let you be yourself, while still challenging you. He’d let you be shy, while still feeling sexy. He’d made you feel seen, until you’d been forgotten.

“You guys will have to excuse me, I need to take a leak,” your uncle said, pulling you from your thoughts, and getting up from his seat.

With his glass raised to his lips, Joel only gave him a short nod as he watched him walk away from your table. When your uncle was out of earshot, Joel dropped the act, shoulders relaxing as he gently placed his beer on the red and white gingham.

His face looked tired, eyes sparkling with melancholy. “I’m sorry for showin’ up here all unannounced,” he started, fingertips tapping lightly over the cloth, “you weren’t pickin’ up your phone and I need to talk to you.”

The lump on your throat grew larger as you tried to swallow around it, lost for words. “F-for what?” you said, voice hoarse and not louder than a whisper.

“I think we both know for what,” he sighed, “I fucked it up with you– never should’ve said those things to Cheryl– even if it was just actin’. I got so caught up in you, I didn’t realize what I’d said until it was too late, and I’m sorry.”

“I-I, J-Joel,” you stuttered, brows pulling together tightly as you searched for your words.

“You don’t need to say nothin’ right now, but I wanna drive you home ‘f that’s okay? Wanna have a proper talk with you.”

His hand was shaking as he placed it gently on your shoulder, the touch making your eyes fall shut as a hitching breath escaped you.

“Joel,” you whispered.

“Please,” his hand moved gently up your neck to cup your cheek, the warmth of his touch sending goosebumps down your spine. “Please, I need to explain myself.” His voice sounded pained and full of sorrow. “I’m beggin’ you, sweetheart.”

You opened your eyes slowly, breath shaky as you tried to hold back the tears pressing behind your eyes. His whole face shifted when you met his eyes, melancholy turning to worry, his other hand coming up to cup your other cheek as he shifted closer.

“Hey,” he said it so softly, “Sweet girl, sweet sweet girl, please don’t cry.” His forehead fell against yours, his mustache tickling your skin as he pressed ‘I’m sorry’ into it.

“O-okay,” you managed to stutter out against your better judgment.

Joel lifted his head, brown warm eyes finding yours as his thumbs rubbed gently into your skin, “Yeah?”

Behind Joel, you noticed your uncle exit the men’s room, and you jerked out of Joel’s hold. His brows tightened together in a confused frown before you gave him a short nod in the direction of your uncle. Joel gathered his hands in his lap, his eyes tracing your uncle as he squeezed back into his seat. He gave Joel a look you couldn’t decipher, jaw locked tight and eyes piercing, before he turned to you with a plastered smile.

“Alright, what do you say, sweetie? You want some dessert?”

Your eyes flicked quickly from your uncle to Joel, and then back again, “No, I think I’m too full, and um… it’s getting late.”

Your uncle hummed, “Yeah, been a long day for sure.” Shifting in his seat your uncle fished his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. “Let’s see if we can get a hold of that pretty friend of yours,” he said, turning his head to search for Deborah.

As he got her attention, Joel fished his pack of cigarettes from the front pocket of his shirt. He lit himself a cigarette as you watched your uncle hold up his wallet and point. You couldn’t help but steal a glance at Joel, watching the way his lips pursed around the cigarette as he inhaled.

“I think I’m also gonna use the restroom before we leave,” you peeped, getting to your feet before anyone could say anything. You felt Joel’s hands graze the back of your legs as you squeezed past him. The touch quick but gentle, but still leaving a burn of longing either way.

Pushing open the door to the restroom you took a deep breath. Joel was here. Joel was here and he wanted to apologize. Pacing to the end of the room, you discreetly dropped your head to check the stalls. No one. Good. Leaning your weight over the stone sink, you looked at yourself in the mirror.

What were you doing? One touch from Joel and you fall apart?

You released a breathless laugh and shook your head at yourself; you were in over your head, but at the same time a bubble of relief sat in your throat. He was here after all, he wanted to explain himself, and you knew that deep down you wanted to hear it.   

When you made your way back to the table, something in the air had changed. “There she is,” your uncle said, gathering his jacket, “Ready to go?”

“Um…” You looked to Joel, but something about him looked different. His shoulders looked tense, the cigarette pinched between his fingers were close to burning out, but it was his face when he looked at you that made you worried. The previous tenderness gone, replaced by a clenched jaw and eyes that wouldn’t meet yours.

“Actually, Joel said–”

He cut you off, “I’m gonna stay for another drink…”

His words dropped to the pit your stomach where they weighed you down, your feet frozen to the tiled floor. When Joel still didn’t look at you as he handed you your jacket and purse, you knew something was clearly wrong. Beside you your uncle crowded your space. His hand landed on your shoulder where it rubbed harshly into your skin, almost possessive as his eyes locked on Joel in a way that said, ‘good man’.

“I’ll drive you home, sweetie.”

With a hand resting at your back, your uncle guided you out the restaurant without as much as a mutter of goodbye to Joel. You looked back at him, not once but twice, but he still didn’t look at you – his eyes were glued to the foam of his beer as you vanished out the door.

Back inside your uncle’s rental car you were quiet, sitting with your thoughts as they swirled around your head. You’d been so close to believing Joel; that he was actually sorry, that he wanted to apologize. But once again you’d been a fool. Leaning your head against the window you felt so silly– silly for getting your hopes up.

“I– uh,” your uncle cleared his throat, “That Joel back there, sweetie, he’s not who he says he is.”

Lifting your head you turned to your uncle with a frown, “I don’t–”

Your uncle cut you off, “I don’t want to be telling you this– lord knows I don’t want your aunt knowing about this but…”

You watched how your uncle’s grip tightened around the steering wheel, his nervousness infecting you. What was he talking about?

“But what?” Your voice rose an octave, as you let out a nervous breath.

“Joel does porn,” your uncle revealed. He said it all dramatic, like he was in a movie and this scene was the turning point for your character. You had to restrain yourself to hide the laugh tickling your throat as he continued, “I thought he looked familiar, and– jesus, don’t you ever tell anybody about this but… he’s in a couple of movies I keep in the basement.”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, your eyes staring straight ahead down the road. You cringed at the new atmosphere settling in the car, stuffy with embarrassment and a picture of your uncle getting off to Joel stuck to your retinas. You wanted to hurl, this new picture not something you’d ever want to visualize. You were quiet as the revelation settled, your brain searching for words, but it was like they’d all fallen out your ears.

“Listen,” he cleared his throat of the discomfort, “I don’t know what he is to you, if he’s your boyfriend or what–”

“He’s not,” you squeaked, ready for this conversation to be over.

“I saw him kissing you when I stepped out of the toilets,” your uncle accused sternly, a biting lilt to his voice.

“Kiss me? I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you protested, confused about how he’d gotten it in his head that Joel had kissed you.

“Don’t you raise your voice at me,” he started to yell, “I saw it with my own two eyes, don’t you go lying to me.”

Your heart picked up its pace, all the blood in your body turning to ice in your veins. Pressing your lips together in a thin line, you fought to hold back the tears threatening to spill.

“I don’t want you seeing him anymore– that kinda filth he’s involved in…” he shook his head, “it’s sinful and I don’t want him getting you involved in that.” Your uncle’s voice was stern, words spat through gritted teeth.

You were frozen in your seat. Your heart beating so fast you thought it might burst through your ribcage. You didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to say. All too quickly you were transported back home, back to who you used to be. You drew a shaky breath as a single tear spilled down your cheek.

“What would your parents say if they knew what you were doing down here? Who your friends were? That Deborah? Did you see how short her dress was? The city of sin this is,” your uncle continued as he pulled into the parking lot outside your apartment complex.

With eyes glued to your hands, you couldn’t get a single word to come out of your mouth – like they were stuck to the back of your throat where they formed a painful lump. After parking the car, your uncle turned to you, a finger brushing over your cheek in a suffocating touch.

“Sweetie,” he started, voice gone softer, “I’m worried about you. You’re out here all alone– all alone with all this temptation. Wouldn’t it be nice if you came back home with me, hm? Get you back where you belong?”

"I–..."

The words stayed stuck in your throat, unable to rise over the anxiety that gripped you at the thought of returning home to your parents. How different your life would be, back to the way it used to be, an old prison you'd hoped you'd left far behind you. Yet you felt numb, finding yourself incapable of uttering a single word of protest as your uncle nodded self-righteously. 

"I think that's the best, sweetie," he told you, his tone sounding entirely too convinced, "Tell you what Hon. . . I'm gonna be driving back down tomorrow, and I'll be damned if you aren't sitting in this seat all safe right next to me, alright? So why don't you go and pack your stuff and a bag, and I'll be by in the afternoon to pick you up?"

You said nothing, the rising panic in your throat rendering you almost paralyzed. Your fingers desperately reached for the car door handle; you needed to get out of this car. 

Unaware of your distress, your uncle bid you a contented 'See you later' as you stepped out of his car, slamming the door shut. 

Finally, he drove off. You watched him disappear with a knot in your stomach until he was just a tiny dot on the horizon, wishing he would stay that way as you tried desperately not to throw up your dinner in the parking lot.

“Hello?”

The electric static of your voice filled Joel with a deep sense of relief. His grip around the phone handset tightened as he forced out a clumsy, “It’s Joel.”

The sigh you sent down the phone tickled up his spine, but before you could say anything Joel continued, “I just wanted to apologize to you… for last night.”

He’d felt awful all through the night and into the morning. He’d fucked it up again. Letting you leave like that last night was the hardest thing he’d done in a long while. Had you not gone to the bathroom and left him with your uncle, none of this would’ve happened.

You sighed again, “All you do is apologize Joel, but do you ever mean it?”

Joel face contracted into a grimace, “I do, sweet girl, you don’t know how much I mean it,”

“Joel…” your voice sounded pained, and it shattered something inside him. He just wanted you to be happy, and loved, and taken care of, but all he’d done was hurt you, again and again.

“It doesn’t matter how much you mean it Joel… none of it matters anymore.” The tone of your voice scared him.

“What d’you mean, sweetheart?” he hurried.

“It’s just… you don’t need to worry about me anymore, Joel– I’m leaving LA tonight.”

Joel felt his heart drop to his stomach, a rising panic bubbling under his skin as he stumbled out, “What are you talkin’ about, sweet girl?”

“I’m going back home tonight. I-I don’t know when I’ll be back– if I’m coming back. Joel, I can’t be your assistant anymore.”

“Fuck being my assistant!” he spoke through gritted teeth, holding back from yelling out in panic, “What d’you mean you’re leavin’?” Joel’s voice faltered as his heart caught up with what was about to happen.

He was gonna lose you. You would never be his. He was losing the first girl he thought he could really love. The girl he wanted a future with. Hell, the girl he could see himself grow old with. Joel knew it was fast, way too fast to be feeling like this about you, but right now, all those shitty romance novels about finding ‘the one’, all those weeping love songs about love at first sight – after you, they didn’t seem so stupid anymore.

“Joel, it’s– it’s okay.” Your voice had gone soft, but he could still hear the strain of hurt in it.

“It’s not, sweet girl, nothin’ about this is okay.” Joel’s eyes fell shut, his thumb and pointer finger coming up to squeeze at the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t lose you. “I’m comin’ over– We can’t be doin’ this over the phone.”

“Joel,” you sighed.

“I’m comin’ over,” he reiterated, and hung up.

You were carrying a bag to your car when you saw Joel’s car pull into the parking lot. He must’ve noticed you right away as he’d hastily parked next to your own car – his wheels screeched against the asphalt. As you made your way across the parking lot, you watched how he almost jumped out the car like he was in a hurry, coming around the back to fill the space between your cars.

“Joel– you really didn’t have to come all the way out here,” you told him when you got close enough, stepping past him to place your last bag in your back seat. He leaned his hand on your door, holding it open for you, his broad form shielding you from the blazing afternoon sun.

Inside, your apartment was left half-empty. You’d left most of your things, only bringing your clothes, your pictures, your records and your record player, and your books. 

You didn’t need much more where you were going.

The thought still made your stomach turn in on itself, the dread of going back home had trickled down your back ever since last night. But what choice did you have? It was either your parents finding out about your job and Joel, or going back home. You knew your uncle; he’d never keep this a secret if you didn’t do as he said. If your parents found out it would be over for you. You didn’t even want to think about it; they’d disown you if they were feeling nice, or send you to an asylum if they were feeling extra nice. If you didn’t go now, they’d never let you come home again, and it scared you, you were already on thin ice for moving to LA in the first place.

“Are you just gonna pretend this isn’t your uncle’s idea?” Joel’s voice had a bite to it, and it caught you off guard. Standing to your full height you raised a hand to shield your eyes from the sun. His face wore none of the anger you’d heard in his voice, instead there was a veil of sadness coating his features.

“I– Why do you think that?” You tried to keep your voice steady, normal, you didn’t want him to hear how scared you were.

“’Cause of what he told me back at the restaurant,” he closed your car door, “told me he knew who I really was and to stay away from you– he didn’t want me taintin’ you with my filth.”

Your eyes fell shut as your hand came up to rub at your forehead. So that’s what happened yesterday? Letting your hand fall, your eyes fell over Joel’ face; over his neat mustache that tickled you in just the right way whenever he kissed you, over his soft curls he’d let grow out the last couple of months, and over his eyes. His brown eyes now swirling with something you hadn’t seen in them before. Shame?  

“I done fucked it up haven’t I– you associatin’ with me? He’s takin’ you back to your daddy, ‘s that it?” When he met your eyes they softened, a veil of his regular self now concealing that blink of insecurity.  

You shook your head as a lump grew at the back of your throat, “You just– you don’t understand Joel.” The words came out strained as you felt tears push behind your eyelids.

“Hey,” Joel softened immediately, his hand wrapping gently around your upper arm and sending a warmth through your body. “You’re okay, sweet girl, tell me what I don’t understand.”

He stepped a little closer, but not too close, his hand traveled up your arm in a soothing gesture. Your eyes fell shut again, squeezing them tight to stave off your tears. You’ve never talked about it before with anybody. Never talked about your family and how trapped you’d felt by their rules and their expectations; the guilt they’d instilled in you for never being able to live up to the person they wanted you to be.

You shook your head, “I don’t think I can,” you half-whispered.

“Sweetheart, I– I know I fucked it up with you, and I know I ain’t your boyfriend or nothin’, but I do care for you– I care for you more than you think. I wanna be there for you when somethin’s wrong. So please, tell me what’s wrong.”

Slowly opening your eyes, you looked at him. Those warm like whiskey eyes staring at you with concern and with a hint of something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Adoration? Fondness? Love?

“My uncle will be back soon,” you said, voice low, “he wants to get on the road before dark.”

“’s that really what you want?” he asked then, his hand slipping from your arm.

“It’s– it’s complicated, Joel.”

A sigh escaped him, as he ran a hand over his face, “Yeah… I just wish you weren’t leavin’– wish it didn’t have to end like this.”

He didn’t look like himself. Eyes shining with sadness, and that usual cocky lilt to his voice gone, exchanged by something low and strangled. His face contorted into a crooked smile, his shoulders shaking with an unhumorous breathy laugh as he shook his head.

“Shit–”, he snickered, “life’s cruel sometimes… you finally fall in love with a girl and then…” he shook his head.

You felt like you’d been hit by a truck. Fall in love? In love with you? Joel didn’t look at you, his hand rubbed at the back of his neck as he started to walk away, rounding the tail of his car.

“Fall in love?” you asked, hands falling to your side in shock, “with me?”

Joel stopped at your voice, “Couldn’t help it,” he shrugged with a sad smile.

Those tears you’d fought so hard to stave off finally broke loose, a single tear running down your cheek – the tear in the dam of your sadness. Joel’s arms were around you in an instance, strong and steady. He held you so close to his broad chest, that familiar scent of cologne mixed with cigarettes making a sob escape you as you realized you’d never be able to be this close to him ever again.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled into his shirt.

Joel’s grip around you tightened as he dipped his head against your cheek, “Why are you apologizin’, sweet girl? I’m the one who’s sorry.”

“I don’t want to leave,” you whispered; your tears staining his shirt.

“Then don’t– stay,” Joel said, soothing a hand across your back.

“I-I can’t– they’ll… they’ll hate me if they find out.”

“Find out about what, sweet girl?”

“You… the porn… everything. He’ll tell them and I’ll never be able to come home again,” you cried into his shirt.

“Okay,” Joel sighed, loosening his grip around you, “let’s go back to my place– we should talk.”

“But my uncle–” you started to protest, but Joel cut you off.

“He doesn’t decide over you, sweet girl, you make your own decisions– you hear me?”

His hands found your face, his massive palms holding you gently as he rubbed his thumbs down your cheek, drying your tears. You could only nod.

You’d never been inside Joel’s house before, you realized, as you trailed after him up the steps to his front door. He lived in one of those houses at the top of a long hill where he had the most incredible view over LA. You knew porn paid him the big bucks, but he’d been sensible when it came to his home – well, sensible for LA. 

It was a one-story house in the shape of an U; inside, the hallway opened up to a living room where big glass doors framed his back yard and a kidney shaped pool. Warm, dark toned wood paneling clad his walls and made the space feel masculine, but inviting.

With a hand hovering over your back he guided you towards his couch. “D’you want a cup of tea?” Joel asked you as you sat down on his leather couch. He looked nervous where he stood, palms running down the side of his leg like he didn’t know what to do with them. It was contagious.

“Um, okay,” you nodded, shifting a little in your seat and folding your hands in your lap.

Waiting for Joel to come back from the kitchen you tried to steady your stuttering heart. You’d been mostly silent on the drive over, trying to wrap your head around the fact that Joel was in love with you – the fact never seeming to stick to your brain in the right way.

It felt ridiculous – Joel, a successful pornstar, being in love with you. But stacked on top of his confession was the fact that Joel was a pornstar – making a living out of having sex with other women. You didn’t understand how exactly it bothered you, but you knew that it did somewhere deep down – but then again did you have any right to be bothered by it if it paid your bills.

“Didn’t know if you took sugar or not so I brought the bowl.” Joel pulled you from your thoughts, placing a steaming cup of tea and a small crystal bowl filled with sugar on the coffee table in front of you.

“Thank you,” you smiled meekly, your hand finding the string to bop the teabag as you watched the steaming water turn darker.

You felt the cushion dip as Joel sat down, a seat of absence between you. 

The air felt loaded. Loaded with the week left behind you. Loaded with Joel’s lingering confession. Loaded with the uncertain future. Joel watched your hands, eyes fixed but far away.

“I… uh,” Joel cleared his throat as he searched for his words. “I wanna apologize to you for– for everythin’ that happened at work on Monday.”

You felt yourself not, drawing back your hands to rest them in your lap, a finger clumsily picking at your nailbed.

“There ain’t no excuse for how I was actin’– for the things I said… truth is, the way I feel about you, I’ve never felt like this with anyone before. You make–” Joel tipped his head, a smile coating his lips, “you make everythin’ just brighter– like everythin’ will be alright as long as I have you… And I know this all feels fast, but I’ve been crazy ‘bout you since I first laid my eyes on you. I ain’t ever believed in that ‘love at first sight’ crap but,” Joel hesitated, like the words hung at the tip of his tongue but wouldn’t let go.

“But?” you encouraged.

“I think I do now.”

His words tasted so bitter and so sweet. Tipping your head downwards your eyes found your hands.

“Joel…” you shook your head, trying to will the words to form. “This… I don’t understand.”

“What ain’t you understandin’, sweet girl?” He shifted his weight, leaning closer but still maintaining a respectful distance.

“Why me?” You looked up from your lap, eyebrows pulled together in a frown.

“Are you kiddin’ me?” He breathed out in shock.

“I mean, you’re Joel Packer– you can have any girl you want… and I guess you already do– at work.” You swallowed around the growing lump in your throat, tears pushing behind your eyelids.

“Well, I ain’t in love with all those other girls, am I?” His voice was gentle; the words escaping like they were the easiest words in the world.

Your tears pushed their way forward, trailing down your cheeks like curving rivers. Joel instantly moved closer, the familiar warmth of his body against your side made the tears run faster.

“Hey, my sweet girl, it’s okay, baby, it’s alright,” he cooed, pulling you into his embrace.

“It’s not, Joel… I don’t know what to do,” you sobbed into his shoulder.

“Tell me and we’ll figure it out together,” he pulled away to cup your head in his hands, thumbs wiping away your tears, “just tell me, baby.”

You watched his face, your eyes dancing over his features, drinking him in. Drawing a deep breath, you told Joel everything. You told him about your parents and your upbringing, their rules and their expectations. How they’d wanted you to be the perfect student, the perfect daughter, and someday the perfect wife. You told him why you’d moved to LA in the first place – to run from it all, from the guilt and shame they instilled in you for never being what they wanted. Joel held you in his arms as you emptied your feelings. He let you speak, humming at the right moments and squeezing you tighter when it was extra emotional for you.

“And now my uncle’s gonna tell them about you and the porn and–” you spoke fast, stumbling over your words, “they’ll disown me– I know it or worse they’ll come and get me… send me somewhere,” you sobbed.

“Heyheyhey,” Joel shifted his hold on you. You’d sunk into the couch as he’d let you talk, your feet slung over his lap as he held you close. Now he sat up, turning your body to face him, eyes locked with yours. “Listen, baby– they ain’t takin’ you anywhere, you hear me? You’re an adult– you’re your own person now!”

“I know I’m askin’ a lot of you– you’re afraid of losin’ your family– I understand! Believe me I do.” His head tipped against your forehead, nose brushing gently against yours. “My folks, they—... well they ain’t talkin’ to me anymore. Don’t matter how famous I am, I’m a sinner to them.”

“Joel, I’m sorry,” you whispered, your heart aching for him.

“Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry about– it’s in the past and I got Tommy…” he trailed off, lifting his head, one large hand cupping your cheek. “Listen, my sweet girl, you’re the only girl I want. I want you to stay, but I want you to stay for your own sake. There ain’t nothin’ you owe your folks, okay? And I promise you I’ll always be there for you!”

For once you didn’t think.

Leaning closer you brushed your lips against Joel’s, and it made all the walls inside you break down. Humming in surprise he stalled before he relaxed against you, pulling you closer, his hand pressed into your cheek. There was no air, only Joel. His mustache tickled your upper lip and cupid’s bow in just the right way, and you realized just how much you’d missed him.

The kiss was languid like molasses, pulling you apart and putting you together again. Your hand found his neck, fingers curling into the hair at the back of his neck – tethering yourself to him. He broke away from your kiss, pressing soft tender kisses along your jaw, his hand brushing down the column of your neck.

“Come sit in my lap, sweet girl,” he whispered into your skin and a rush of electricity sped through your body. His hand fell to your waist while the other grabbed at the thick of your thigh – maneuvering you to straddle him.

“There you go, my good girl,” he praised, his hands rubbing it into your skin. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” Joel leaned forward, pressing soft kisses to the spot where your jaw met your neck.

“Joel, I– ah!” you gasped as he brushed his tongue over that sensitive spot behind your ear. You felt his smile against your skin, teeth nipping at your sensitive skin before his lips brushed over your drumming pulse. He kissed his way along your jaw, nose bumping into yours as he hovered before your lips – daring you to kiss him again.

You took the bait, eyes flicking down to his lips before you pressed your own against him. You didn’t have much experience with love but being this close to Joel felt so right. Maybe this was what love was, you thought. 

“I think I’m in love with you,” you mumbled against his lips, your words swallowed by his kiss. A wide smile blossomed across Joel’s face at your words, and soon you were kissing teeth.

“Whatchu sayin’, sweet girl?” he grinned, raising one eyebrow at you as he leaned back.

You had to fight not to roll your eyes at him, at how he always found a way to playfully tease you. You weren’t joking though – you meant it, you really did.

“I’m in love with you too,” you told him sincerely, “I don’t know how to be in love, so you’ll have to be patient with me, but I’m yours if you’ll have me.”

“I’ll always want you, sweet girl, always,” he promised, sealing it with a chaste kiss.

“I uh, I think I need to quit being your assistant too,” you said, biting your lip. “I can’t– I don’t really want to see you with other women… you can tell me about work, but I don’t want to see it.”

Joel squeezed your waist gently before rubbing soft circles over the spot. “That’s okay– thank you for tellin’ me,” he nodded, “I’ll talk to Ronald ‘n see if he knows if there’s any assistant jobs for you over in Hollywood.”

You slowly shook your head, “Ronald is a piece of shit.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Joel chuckled, leaning his head against the back of the couch, “But he’s connected, and very convincin’.”

“He’d never do that for me,” you said.

“But he’ll do it for me– I’m his favorite client,” he grinned, leaning forward to cup your chin, before pulling his hand away.

“You just make him a lot of money,” you countered with a shrug, still sitting pretty in his lap.

“Do I now?” Joel asked, leaning closer with a cocky grin, “’n how do I do that, sweet girl?”

“Joel,” you sighed as his lips brushed over yours in another quick peck.

“Listen,” he started, “It’s been a long time since I’ve dated anyone ‘n I won’t lie, last time it got complicated ‘cause of my job. You know what the job entails, but I need you to talk to me– we need to be communicatin’, you need to tell me ‘f somethin’s wrong– just like you’re doing so well for me right now.”

“Ok, Joel,” you nodded, wrapping your arms around him and resting your head on his shoulder.

“Thank you, sweet girl,” he mumbled, placing a soft kiss to your temple.

You stayed like that for seconds, minutes, hours, you didn’t know. But it felt nice to be so close, to just be in each other’s company, to enjoy being so in tune with another person without any ulterior motive. You didn’t know when, or who started it, but his lips were back over yours, moving in a perfect rhythm. Slow and drawn out, enjoying every second of being this close. When his tongue darted over your bottom lip, the kiss got messier, more passionate, like either of you couldn’t get enough of the other.

Under you, you felt Joel’s cock harden, the feel of what you did to him making your cunt ache for him. His capable hands had explored your clothed body, rubbing softly over the dips and curves before they’d landed on your ass. With a gentle rock, he’d moved you back and forth over him, catching your every moan with his mouth as your clit caught on his growing bulge.

It felt so good. Joel felt so good.

He moved you expertly over him, edging you closer to an edge you didn’t think you could reach this fast, your arousal soiling your panties with every grind. The kiss got sloppy, and you broke away, content little sighs escaping your mouth as you buried your face in Joel’s neck. He was everywhere. The scent of him, his warmth, his hard cock underneath you– it was all too much, and Joel knew it. Tightening his grip on your ass, he bucked his hips to meet your grinding, and you snapped. Mewling into his neck, you withered in his lap, legs shaking with your orgasm.

“Joel,” you managed to moan between the white hot ecstasy.

“There you go, baby– good girl, come for me, just like that,” he encouraged, rubbing his hand down your back in gentle strokes. His heavy hand rested over your back, pressing soft kisses to your temple as you came down, cooing at the aftershock.

With your mind somewhat back on earth you lifted your head from the home you’d made in his neck to place a soft kiss to his lips. Meanwhile your hands slipped between your bodies, clumsy fingers fiddling with the buttons on his jeans.

Joel broke your kiss, “Not here.” Confused, you pulled away, your eyebrows meeting in a furrow. “Let me fuck you properly… in my bed.”

Stumbling back into his hallway, your hands linked, he led you to his bedroom. His decorating was simple: a king-sized bed placed up against the back wall, paired with more of those large floor-to-ceiling windows gave him a view out into his backyard. An art piece hung above his bed, which looked suspiciously like a Warhol, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it with Joel’s hands on you.

He took his time undressing you– one painstaking item at a time, dotting kisses to each new piece of skin revealed. You were practically swimming in your arousal by the time he got to your panties. He had that look in his eyes, something dark and filled with lust as he sank to his knees before you. Never breaking eye contact, Joel leaned in, his lips brushing over the soft spot below your belly button – it made goosebumps prickle across your skin, and a hitch of breath to get stuck in your throat.  His lips skated downwards, running along the elastic of your panties, teeth nipping at the bow in the center.

It was like time stood still. Outside the setting sun filled Joel’s bedroom with a golden hue, and bathed him a soft warmth. The way he looked at you sent bolts of electricity through your body, into every nerve ending. He was everywhere, and you wanted him everywhere, wanted him inside.

His fingertips grazed the side of your thighs, finding the thin sides of your panties. His eyes locked with yours and you nodded along with a breathless, “Yes,” before he pulled them down. A smile filled with cocky happiness spread across his features when he hit a bit of a snag, your arousal and previous orgasm making the fabric stick to your cunt.

After helping you step out of your panties, Joel sat back on his heels as he admired you. His tight jeans clung to his thighs and your eyes couldn’t help but trail over him; over his strong muscles, his impressive bulge, his signature belt buckle and his scarlet red shirt with the deep V, straining against his shoulders. Naked and bare for him, he took in your body, those warm whiskey eyes memorizing every inch of it. The rough skin of his hand made you keen under his touch where it skated up your leg, following your form and parting your legs for him. Hooking his hand under your thigh, Joel placed it over his shoulder giving him a perfect view of your wet cunt, while your fingers found his curls to keep yourself steady.

“Look at this pretty pussy,” he whispered almost to himself, “it’s all messy f’me ain’t it?” He dragged his lips along your inner thigh, dark eyes locked with yours.

“Y-yes,” you managed to stutter out – your whole body alight under his touch.

“Yes, it is, baby,” he underlined his words with a finger swiping through your soaked folds, the sound filling the space between you. “You hear? Hear how messy?”

A heat traveled up your neck to your cheeks, making them burn under his playful teasing. “Joel,” you whined, your fingers tightening your grip on his curls. He continued his teasing, placing wet kisses to the inside of your other thigh. The coarse hair of his mustache brushing against the sensitive skin in just the right way. 

“Fuck,” he whispered against your skin, “you gonna let me take care of ya, sweet girl? Gonna let me show you I’m only yours?”

You were nodding even before he’d finished his sentence, “Yes,” you sighed. The ache between your legs burned so bright it almost hurt.

With your permission, Joel closed the teasing distance, and buried his face between your legs. He started with a kiss directly to your clit, before he dipped lower to taste you properly. Small and breathy sighs escaped your lips, your other hand not in his hair falling to his shoulder to keep you from keeling over.

The flat of his tongue lapped at the seam of your cunt, collecting your arousal on your tongue, as he hummed in contentment. It felt too good. He always made you feel so good. When the tip of his tongue teased your hole, you had to bite down on your bottom lip to fight back the moan about to escape you. Pressing your heel into his back, your body bucked by its own will, meeting the swipes and zigzags of his tongue.

“Joel,” you gasped when he found your clit again, a tense arousal building in your core. Spurred on by your noises, Joel sucked at your sensitive bud, laving his tongue over it in lazy strokes.

“Fuck,” you whispered, breath hitching in your throat as you squeezed your eyes shut from the ecstasy. You were close now, your second orgasm approaching fast in Joel’s capable hands– or tongue.

“C’mon, baby,” he spoke between laps over your clit, urging you on, “come all over my tongue.”

A hand slid up to your ass, holding you flush to his face as you started to wither above him. His cheeks were warm from your soft thighs, his mustache slick with your arousal as he brought you closer and closer.

“There she goes, good girl,” he said with a ragged puff, encouraging you when the dam finally broke. His grip on your ass tightened, keeping you upright, as your whole body started to shake with your orgasm. Your grip on his hair was tight, tethering yourself to Joel, as you whimpered out breathy moans. Your hips bucked into his mouth, and the heel you dug into his back must’ve hurt, but your mind was entirely elsewhere, lost in the pleasure he was giving you.

He pressed soft kisses to the fold where your thigh started as the aftershocks coursed through you, holding you steady while your chest heaved for breath as you tried to calm down.

“Joel,” you sighed contently, your hand brushing over his hair. He didn’t pull away like you thought he’d do, instead he placed another kiss to your sensitive clit. You jumped at the touch, a giggle catching in your throat.

“I’m not done witchu, sweet girl.” You could feel the smile against your skin, the way his lips smoothed the exposed surface, the sweetness of his smile practically dripping down your legs.

He helped you slide your leg off his shoulder, his big hands framing your waist as he rose from the floor with a restrained grunt. He looked a mess. Hair pulled in all directions, mustache glistening with your wetness and cheeks smeared with your arousal. Seeing what you’d done to him, you felt your cheeks heat up.

With his hands around your waist, he walked you backwards, until the back of your legs hit the end of the bed. He was crowding your space now, the familiar scent of him now mixed with you sent your brain into a mushy state. He pushed you forward gently, and you fell down on his bed, bouncing slightly.

Joel towered over you, still completely dressed. The thought of how bare you were for him, while he was still fully clothed, sent a tingle down your tummy to your core. He had the upper hand, and it felt good. It felt good to let him take control, to be able to shut your brain off for a while, to know he would take care of you.

Across his face, Joel wore his signature cocky grin as he stepped closer to the edge of the bed, the hardwood floor creaking slightly with ever step. You dipped your head to your shoulder, looking up at him through your lashes, and it made his smile wider. He stalked over you, his hand curling around your ankle before he playful yanked you towards him. A yelp fell from your lips, before a giggle broke lose.

“Oh, you ain’t gonna be gigglin’ like that when I’m done witchu,” he teased, lowering himself over your body.

“W-what are you gonna do to me?” you asked breathlessly as Joel dipped down to nip at the skin below your collarbone.

A deep chuckle rumbled across your skin between his kisses, “Gonna make you come, and come and come, sweet girl– wanna feel you squeezin’ around cock– make you forget your own name.”

“Shit, Joel,” you stuttered out as his lips closed around your nipple, “I-I haven’t–”

He cut you off, “That ain’t matter to me, sweet girl, I know you’ll be good f’me.”

And he was right; you wanted nothing more than to be good for him.

He kissed a trail down the valley of your breasts, across your tummy and the dip of your belly button until he reached your mound. Joel got comfortable on his knees, hooking his arms under your legs to manhandle you the way he wanted, spreading your thighs, and putting your wet cunt on display for him.

“Sweet fuckin’ pussy,” he pulled back and spat, and you felt the way his spit dripped down your clit, “Sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted.”

With his thumb he smeared his spit through your folds, not that you needed it, you were plenty wet from your two previous orgasms. You jumped under him when he brushed your clit, puffed and sensitive as it was, and it made him chuckle.

“You’re so sensitive, aren’t you, sweet girl?” he coaxed, putting more pressure on your clit with his thumb.

Your moan got caught in your throat as you hurried to answer him, “Y-yes, Joel, so sensitive.” Heat and arousal flushed through your body, traveling through your bloodstream, and shading the world in a rose-tinted hue.

Another chuckle escaped Joel before he ducked down and brought his lips to your clit, while two of his fingers teased down your folds to edge at your opening. You felt your hole clench in anticipation, as a whimpering moan fell from your lips.

“This hole is just drippin’ for me ain’t it?” he teased, voice muffled by his lips around your clit.

You couldn’t think, so consumed by his touch and the way he made you feel. You managed to nod and breathe out a “Yes.” Joel hummed around your clit, the vibrations edging you on as his fingers prodded at your entrance.

Pushing forward he thrusted his fingers inside. It was a snug fit, but your arousal dripping over his knuckles made it easy. He immediately curled his fingers, expertly prodding at that sensitive spot inside that made you squirm underneath him and buck your hips involuntarily.  

“Shh,” Joel soothed you, fingers still pushing up, hitting something that made your leg shake involuntarily as he circled them against the delicate flesh.

Shit. Fuck.

You mewled, whiny breaths falling from your lips as you hurled quickly towards the edge, again. Joel didn’t let up, thrusting his fingers expertly into that perfectly sensitive spot. When your right leg couldn’t stop shaking, he slung his other arm over your stomach, keeping you in place for him.

“That’s it, sweet girl, that’s your g-spot, honey,” he cooed between lapping and sucking at your clit, “Are you gonna come again, baby? You can let go– ‘s okay.”

The added pressure of his arm sent your hurling towards your release. Your back arched off his bed at a particular perfect thrust; your breath coming out panting and breathless.

“Joel–” you heaved, “J-Joel, I-I’m—,” you couldn’t finish your thought. You clenched around his fingers, a pressure building like you’d never felt before – you felt like you were about to explode.

Joel sucked hard on your clit before he moved his lips off with a soft pop, “C’mon, honey,” he coaxed, stopping his thrusting fingers to massage at your g-spot, “Be a good girl f’me and come all over my fingers.”

With his permission you came with a silent cry, eyes squeezed tight as your whole body arched off the bed, your head pressed tightly into the mattress as you let it wash over you. It was like your body clenched and released all at the same time. Small tears trickled down your temples, your body shaking from the force of your orgasm. You gushed over his fingers, and Joel pulled his fingers from your wasted hole at the exact right moment, right as a stream of liquid released.

You were somewhere else entirely, floating away on a cloud of ecstasy you’d never felt before – the feeling so intense, it made your eyes roll back. Beside you, you felt the bed dip. Still shaking from your orgasm, you heaved for your breath, trying to come down. Joel’s arms snaked their way around you, pushing you against his body as he cooed and hushed you.

“You’re alright, sweet girl,” he mumbled against your temple, “squirting all over my hand like a good girl.”

“Joel, I–” You were still catching your breath, still reeling from the intensity.

“You’re ok, baby.” 

He held you close until you’d fully calmed down, and your heartbeat had steadied. You let yourself be held, to just be. Joel pressed absentminded kisses to your skin. One on your cheek, another to the pulse of your neck, a third to your collarbone. He was amazing. He was yours.

“Thank you, Joel,” you finally spoke, “I’ve– I’ve never done that before, it… it felt really good.”

Joel pressed another kiss to your cheek, “You’re welcome, baby– you looked so fuckin’ hot comin’ like that.” 

He pressed another kiss to your cheek before he pulled away. Standing to his feet he stretched his back with a groan. You watched how his muscles moved underneath his shirt. He must’ve felt you watching him as he sent you a cocky smile over his shoulder before he padded towards the door of his en suite.

You turned onto your stomach, your eyebrows pulling together in a furrow as you asked him, “Where are you going?”

“Just gonna getchu ya somethin’ to clean up with,” he explained, nodding his head towards his en suite.

“But…” you trailed off, eyes flicking sheepishly towards his bulge, his cock rock hard and straining against his jeans.

He caught your eye, his trademark cocky smirk spreading. Joel turned his body towards you, and let you ogle him as he crept towards you. “But, what?” he questioned, one teasing eyebrow raised.

“What about…” you bit your lip, heat flushing your cheeks. He’d made you squirt for fucks sake, and you still couldn’t ask him for his cock.

“What about what?” he teased, standing at the end of the bed, his hard cock now eye level with how you were sitting. He watched you from above, how you flicked your eyes from his face to his cock, trying to tell him what you wanted without saying the words.

“You want more, greedy girl?” he questioned, cupping your cheek and angling your face towards him, “You want my cock, don’t you?”

You nodded in his hand, big moony eyes looking up at him. Joel shifted his weight, his hand traveling from your cheek to your chin, letting his thumb run over it in a smooth motion.

“Take my clothes off,” he ordered.

Sitting up on your knees, your hands started fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. Above you, Joel watched you – warm eyes studying you. Unbuttoning the last button, you placed a nervous hand to his chest, right above his heart. Under your palm you felt it beat, fast paced, but steady. With a scrunch of your face, you looked to him.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, fitting his own hand over yours, “I’m crazy ‘bout you, sweet girl.” He dipped his head to fit a soft kiss to your lips.

He helped you with the rest of his clothes. His shirt hitting the floor first, then followed by his belt and his jeans, and lastly his socks. Clad only in his white briefs, you took him in. His handsome face, his neat mustache, his tanned skin and broad shoulders, but most importantly (at least in this moment), his aching cock.

“Take it out f’me,” he ordered.

Obeying his command, your fingers dug into the elastic. His rock hard cock strained desperately against the cotton, a wet spot had formed where the head was, turning the fabric translucent from precum. You pulled his briefs down his legs, his impressive cock springing free to bob in front of your face. Joel stepped out of his underwear, kicking them across the floor to the pile with his other clothes.

You moved up the bed as he crawled over you, parting your legs for him to fit between as you laid back against his fluffy pillows, the scent of him overwhelming. His cock rubbed against your cunt, the head catching on your clit as he adjusted himself over you.

“This whatchu wanted, sweet girl?” he asked, guiding the tip through your folds, and coating himself in your arousal.

“Y-yes, Joel, please,” you begged, “want you.”

Between your legs he jerked himself off, spreading your wetness all over his cock, a slick wet sound squelching from his fist. Joel’s eyes trailed over your body before he shook his head.

“Sit up,” he said.

Confused, you did as he said, sitting up on your knees before him. Joel shifted on the bed, leaning his back against the headrest, his impressive cock standing to attention in his lap.

“C’mon baby, come take what’s yours,” he said, reaching his hand out to you and helping you straddle his thighs.

Looking between your bodies, you couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated. Each time you’d had sex, Joel was always the one in control, but now… Your teeth caught on your bottom lip, insecurity an uninvited guest in the home you’d made in Joel’s bed.

Warm hands cupped your cheeks then, lifting your head to meet his. “You’re alright, my sweet girl,” he told you, fitting his lips against yours, “wanna feel you squeezin’ my cock.”

With Joel’s guiding hands, you lifted yourself over him as he guided the head towards your entrance, the head of his cock pushing through your folds. “Take it slow ‘f ya need it,” he told you, reassuring you. With a timid nod, you shifted your weight slightly, steading yourself on your knees before you slowly sunk down on him.

Your mouth dropped open at the stretch, never really getting used to the size of him – even with the thorough prep he’d done to you. You took your time, easing yourself down on him one inch at a time till he was buried to the hilt in your cunt. He was so deep inside you in this position, you felt him in your tummy, too deep for a cock to reach.

“Shit,” you cursed with a whimper, feeling Joel’s thighs press against your bare ass.

“That’s it, good fuckin’ girl, knew you could do it– takin’ all that cock f’me,” he praised as you tried to adjust to the feeling of him reaching so deep inside you. His hand landed on the small of your back, pushing you closer to his chest and making you rock forward in his lap.

“Y-you’re so deep like this,” you stuttered, draping your arms around his shoulder to steady yourself as his cock hit a new angle inside you, and making you see stars.

“I know, sweet girl, I know– feels good, don’t it?” he cooed, and rocked you in his lap again. Your clit caught in the coarse hair at the base of his cock, and it made a gush of arousal drip down his cock.

You nodded your head desperately. It felt good, it felt really good.

“Why don’t ya bounce on it f’me, honey– make yourself come.”

Again, you obeyed.

You started slow, inching upwards just a tad before grinding down on him again, working yourself up and down his length at your own pace. Below you, Joel watched you closely, a lazy smile spread across his face. His hand on your waist helped guide you, and soon you were bouncing on his cock like an eager little bunny.

“Fuck,” you cursed between moans.

The drag of his cock inside you felt like nothing you’d ever felt before. Love and ecstasy and pleasure – all mixed up into one infatuated feeling. Under you, Joel groaned unabashedly. The noises he made, deep and rugged as he started to meet your bouncing with his own thrusts, building a rising rhythm of pleasure.

“Feel so fuckin’ good, baby,” he groaned, “squeezin’ my cock so good.”

“Uh-uh,” you nodded, mind gone completely blank.

The feeling of him filling you just right with every thrust and hitting that special spot inside you, were almost too much to handle. Your thighs burned with the effort, and you didn’t know how much more you could take before he was hurling you over the edge for the fourth time.

“You gonna come again, sweet girl? Gonna be my good girl and give me ’nother? Give that big cock a nice squeeze?” he encouraged.

You were far too gone to say anything coherent and when his thumb found your clit, you knew you were in trouble. Your legs shook from pleasure and the strain of your bouncing, and you fell forward, your head finding a home in his neck as you gasped. Joel worked quickly and expertly, shifting your weight on his lap so he could thrust into you from below. Breathy whiny moans escaped you in quick succession, and then you were falling apart for him with a cry.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised you through gritted teeth as you withered in his lap, squirming and gasping in his lap. Your walls fluttered and pulsed around his cock as you rode through your orgasm. Under you, Joel’s breath became shallower and his grunts more restrained, and even in your cloud of ecstasy you knew he was close.

“Fuck, ‘m comin’” he let out, quickly lifting you off his cock before he spilled hot cum onto your tummy and mound, his panting moan deep and guttural. It was hot and sticky and suffocating in a good way.

As the sun set over LA, you and Joel found refuge in each other under the pink and orange sky. Your panting breaths slowed to a still comforting silence as you held each other close, and you knew that there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

You had been unable to see it before, or simply just unwilling to let yourself see it, but the answer had been on the tip of your tongue all along. Joel had been the missing piece of your puzzle, the part you'd never even known you'd needed until he'd slotted himself securely into that space, completing your life in a way your family had never been able to. Being with Joel felt right, and if there was one thing you did know, was that no matter what your uncle said or did, or what your parents would think, you were done making sacrifices.  And so you laid in Joel's arms, your chest unraveling with the relief of the knowledge that for maybe the first time in your life, you were making a choice entirely for yourself, and that, given the chance, you would choose Joel, every day, for the rest of your life.

and that's the end <3 if this was a movie we'd slowly fade to a drone shot of LA while cher's cover of "lay baby lay" starts playing as the credits roll over the cityscape.

i hope this was okay, and that the ending was satisfying and that you liked it? as always feedback as a comment, in the tags, as an ask or reply is very much appreciated, and they make me super happy! <3 i'm very curious to hear your thoughts about this! <3

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller series #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #dom!joel miller #the last of us smut #tlou smut #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #inexperienced!reader #70s au #pedro pascal

[satoruxx]

SAUDADE.

✧ PAIRING: gojo satoru x f!reader, geto suguru x f!reader | 3.7k words

✧ SUMMARY: canon au, set after geto leaves so lots of unresolved feelings, alternate between past and present, megumi and tsumiki cameo, satoru has a raging crush on you but you're blind, suguru also had a raging crush on you but you were still blind, slight angst bc canon jjk events, lots of longing on suguru's end, you're confused af, satoru PINES for you and shoko is so tired of him, but overall very fluffy

✧ RHEYA'S NOTE: will i ever publish the actual canon au? who knows. this fic is written in that same au but it's just a snippet of their lives. if you've read angel on my shoulder, just know that's an alternate ending of this au where reader dies lol. but this is very sweet bc you don't die !! you and satoru love each other lots but suck at showing it. happy valentine's day everyone <33

you glance at satoru's giddy smile, wariness creeping up your shoulders before turning to shoko. "what's wrong with him?" you ask, shifting slightly from where you're leaning against one of balconies of jujutsu high.

"who knows?" she sighs, eyes flickering up to glance at the snowy haired sorcerer just barely before they turn back to you. "ignore him."

"hey!" satoru huffs, walking closer to sling an arm around your shoulder—casual, like it's something he doesn't have to think about. you grumble under the extra weight, shooting him a glare, but he's too busy smiling like he's up to something.

"so…" he grins down at you, eyes shining and full of mischief. "know what day it is today?"

you blink at him, trying to scour your brain. "what's the date again?"

satoru gives you a blank stare, before sighing heavily. "god you're slow. it's february 14th, stupid."

"oh," you reply blankly, relaxing because it's nothing inherently important. "so valentine's day?"

satoru's smile comes back full force—cheeky and blinding. "exactly! and when i went shopping today guess what happened?"

"what happened?" shoko asks boredly, shaking her head when she makes eye contact with you.

"well," he drags out the word, crossing his arms like he's pleased with himself. "i was walking along after picking up some sweets because—"

"because you have an addiction," you supplement, and satoru pauses to glare down at you, reaching out to flick a long finger against your forehead.

"it's not an addiction! and don't interrupt me! anyways—"

you smother a smile that shoko mirrors.

"—i was walking and then these two girls came up to me all smiley. like they were giggling and shit, right?"

"uh huh."

"and they started going on and on about how i was the most handsome guy they've ever seen. and then they asked how come i was walking around by myself on valentine's day."

you blink, suddenly feeling a strange mix of interest and irritation.

"so i told them that it's not really my thing and that i didn't have anyone to celebrate with anyway. and then they said it was actually a crime that someone like me was single on valentine's day."

you have to suppress a roll of your eyes, though you're not sure why.

"so basically the moral of the story is that i'm extremely charming and super good-looking too! and that girls love me!"

he looks at you, eyes scrutinizing your expression as you glance at shoko, unimpressed.

"that's it? that's your crazy story?"

"well you guys always say i'm full of it when i call myself hot! now i have proof that it's a universal truth!"

"well we're not stupid—" shoko rolls her eyes, hugging her arms to push away the cold as she leans against the railing. "—we know you're freakishly hot. you're just obnoxious and we like teasing you."

"ugh." satoru rolls his eyes, huffing as he stretches his joints. "you guys are ridiculous. and—"

he pauses, an odd expression crossing his face as he blinks in thought. then he's turning to you with the most smug smirk you've ever seen on him. "wait. you think i'm hot?"

you frown, lips parting in mild confusion. "huh?"

"that's what shoko just said. that you think i'm freakishly hot."

your brows shoot up, an unfamiliar rush of heat crawling up your skin. "but she said both of us! like it's just something that's obvious. i mean as long as you have eyes anyone can see—"

"oh so it's obvious, is it?" satoru's expression is oddly giddy, a pink flush settling high on his cheekbones.

you gape at him, suddenly speechless. you don't remember satoru ever having the ability to make you speechless before.

you can't comprehend the stirring in your chest—uncomfortable and unfamiliar.

"you—" you scoff, reaching up to shove him away. "you're full of shit. doesn't change no matter how hot you are."

shoko has gone quiet, eyes darting between you and satoru with an uncharacteristic glint of curiosity. but satoru's gaze does not stray away from you, pearly whites on full display as he licks his lips. he doesn't say anything else, running his fingers through his hair.

"sure sure," satoru hums—pleased. "whatever you say."

you throw shoko an exasperated glare, and she shakes her head, though there is a shine of amusement in her eyes—like she knows something that you don't.

"i mean, they were right you know?" satoru ponders, leaning back against the railing. "why aren't we doing something fun today? we used to go out and buy a shit ton of chocolate back when—"

he stops, expression going sour, before disappearing all together. there is a clear absence, one that the three of you notice but try not to linger on.

("valentine's day?" suguru had asked years ago, glancing down at you with a smile. "you like it?"

"definitely not," you reply, cheeks warming as you fiddle with the sugared churros in your hand, unable to look at him. "what's so great about a day where couples spend a shit ton of money on each other to make the rest of us singles feel miserable?"

a muted chuckle, and when you look up suguru's eyes are shining with mirth. "i'm sure you wouldn't think that if you weren't single."

"i guess," you huff, glancing at the sidewalk. your face feels like it's on fire—but suguru has always had that effect on you. "not very likely to happen though."

the expression suguru throws you will linger in your mind until the day you die. "what do you mean?" he asks—incredulous, like you were speaking nonsense. he stops in his tracks, the busy streets bustling around him as you continue to walk.

you take a bite of your churro, glancing back at him with clear confusion. "huh? oh i just meant me dating someone is unlikely," you shrug, though suguru looks speechless, lips parted and eyes wide behind dark bangs.

"why on earth do you say that?" he asks, shoving his hands into his pockets. he seems to visibly shake off his initial shock to continue walking, and you patiently wait for him to rejoin your side—he does.

"i don't know," you say, somewhat bashfully because you don't usually talk about these things with him. "do you really think there's room for things like that in our lives?"

"do you?" he counters, and you're too busy formulating your answer to notice that he's oddly interested, eyes continuously darting over your face.

"i mean, it'd be great if there was," you ponder, taking another quick bite. "it'd be nice to be able to settle down with someone even after all the crap we've gone through."

"right…" suguru seems to nod along with you, matching your steps even with his longer stride.

"but—" you stress. "considering that most of us are too traumatized or dead by that time, i don't have much faith."

you laugh at your own statement, but there isn't much amusement in it at all. putting it into words makes you truly realize how shitty your lives are even at such a young age.

your mind drifts to the cerulean eyed sorcerer who's currently off in a different city, being made to fight because he is god on earth in a seventeen year old body. it drifts to a brown haired girl who sits, secluded in a room as bodies are sent to her on a conveyor belt, her hands outstretched to feel blood and gore and horror day in and day out. then it drifts to the boy who is most like you, the one with the dark bangs who rationalizes this pain, this service you have devoted yourselves to with the need to do good for others—because there is no other explanation for why you have to go through this.

the same boy who takes your answer in critically, eyes heavy with an oddly somber sheen. he doesn't say anything, thinking hard, and you focus on eating your churro because you've never once found silence with suguru to be uncomfortable.

you are halfway finished when he breaks it.

"well…" suguru's voice is oddly high, a tick of nerves that doesn't usually infiltrate his calm tone. "if there was room for it, what would a good valentine's day look like for you?"

you laugh, loud and unfiltered, and suguru's skin flushes at the sound.

"i don't know!" your laughter dies down into hushed giggles. "i can't think of anything. besides this is stupid as hell!"

"indulge me," he says quietly, and when you turn to look up at him he's staring at you deeply—eyes hooded and smile gone. you suddenly feel oddly parched as heat crawls up your neck.

"um—" you swallow, the churro in your hand forgotten as you glance at the sidewalk again. "i-i'm not sure. i've really never thought that much about it."

"would you want flowers?" he asks. you suddenly become acutely aware that his voice has gone lower, throaty and deep in a way that sends chills up your spine.

you shake your head quietly, somehow nervous to look at him. "it makes me sad that they die off in a few days. better to keep them planted than cut them for a bouquet."

a quiet huff of laughter—fond and nostalgic. "that's on par for you. very in-character."

you lick your lips, tasting the sugar from the treat in your hand. "i guess…maybe i'd like chocolates?"

"chocolates?" suguru repeats, like he's surprised. you don't know why his reaction has you stumbling, but you shake your head quickly, appalled that you're even telling him this in the first place.

"i mean—it's not a big deal or anything! even just a small box of them would do! i don't really care anyway—"

"i would've guessed you'd like a plushie or something along those lines." he hums, a small smile stretching across his face. there's a dust of color blooming across his cheekbones, and you think he looks unfairly charming.

"that's good too!" you reply, too quickly, before catching yourself and ducking your head. "i mean…i don't know. plushies are really cute. i think they'd be a cute gift."

there's a beat of silence, and when you look up suguru is smiling at you like you've just put the stars in the sky for him. he hums to himself, eyes darting around the streets and looking much more at ease than he did a few minutes prior. you find yourself unable to look away.

"what would you want?" the words escape before you can stop them.

"me?" he asks, tilting his head in mild surprise.

"yeah. what would you want for valentine's day?"

suguru blanches, gaze darting over your facial features with shocking speed. it lingers on your eyes, before flickering downward, then shooting back up. you're trying to trace them but they're too fast, and he shuts them before you can process anything. he keeps his eyes closed as you curiously await his answer.

to this day you don't quite understand what he meant.

"anything i can get," he answers with a rueful smile, shaking his head at you fondly. his eyes bore into yours with an intensity you've never seen before. "anything at all.")

a familiar voice tickles your ear amongst the silence even now, and you rub your palms together. you can feel satoru's gaze on you, trailing over your expression—searching, analyzing.

you let him—used to it.

"that's enough of that for now. plus don't the two of you have to go check on the kids today?" shoko asks, eyeing the two of you pointedly. her voice has a strain to it, one that you can only pick up because you've known her so long. but you're grateful for the change in subject as you glance at satoru, who checks his phone.

"ah shit. they should be back from school by now but we were supposed to pick up some groceries beforehand," he mutters under his breath before looking down at you. "you wanna head over there first and i'll go get some stuff?"

"sure," you reply, patting shoko's shoulder in farewell. satoru steps closer, digging into his pockets before dropping the apartment keys into your palm. he pushes his shades up the bridge of his nose, eyes trailing over your face like he's searching for something, and yet you can't make out what.

a beat of silence.

"d-don't forget to get some of those cookies tsumiki said she liked last time." you drop the keys into your bag and shrug off the odd feeling of this conversation—something strange that you don't feel like looking into because you're scared of what you'll find out about yourself.

satoru's eyes go soft, a mixture of somber and affectionate, and he smiles easily. "you got it." he reaches out to ruffle your hair, licking his lips as he heads for the door. "see you later."

you watch him go, and think that you'd rather have him by your side. but you keep that to yourself—so used to sewing your mouth shut.

("which do you want?" you ask satoru, who peers at the shelves over your shoulder. his close proximity does nothing to you, but he seems oddly giddy when he glances at your side profile.

"hmm, the white chocolate," he answers, low and hushed, like it's meant only for you to hear. you can feel the energy radiating off of him—can feel it shake your very soul.

"okay," you reply, reaching up for the box, but satoru beats you to it. he stretches up, towering over you and you shoot him an playful glare. he had gotten a growth spurt over the holidays and wouldn't let you forget it.

"aw this is so sweet of you," he teases, excited and all too pleased. you roll your eyes, hiding a smile.

"you're the one who's been bugging us for valentine's day chocolate."

"like it wasn't a good idea," he counters with a grin. "even if we're all single we should still get chocolate."

you snort in amusement, before turning to call out across the aisle. "suguru which one should i get you?"

the dark haired male meets your gaze, and the warmth of it sends a tickle through your stomach. he shakes his head with a gentle smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. "don't worry about it. you know i'm not big on sweets anyway."

you deflate—he smiles at you like he's happy you asked.

"you can give me his share," satoru interjects with a playful smirk, pressing his palm into your shoulder. you shake your head in exasperation.

"no way. i'm still going to get him something." your eyes dart across the shelves, before you reach up and pull down a box of unsweetened chocolates, tied with a red ribbon. "this should be good."

satoru eyes the box, and you glance at him. "suguru would like these right?"

"yeah," he shrugs, before crossing his arms. "as long as they aren't crazy sweet. he hates sweet stuff."

"okay good. then i'll get him these!" your smile stretches wide, and it doesn't go unnoticed.

"you're being awfully thoughtful today," satoru comments. you look at him quickly, quirking a brow.

"well i can't just get you one. you're not my only friend." you shoot back.

satoru grins. "guess that's true."

his arm takes its position around your shoulder as you head towards the counter.

"you were really particular about getting suguru something though. any special reason?" he pipes up, and you immediately go still, looking at him as you try to bite back an uncharacteristic surge of panic.

"of course not! i got something for everyone. i even got shoko the rum and raisin chocolates." you say quickly, fighting the urge to crumble under satoru's implications. "besides this was all your idea anyway!"

you dig into your wallet, pulling out exact change and smiling at the cashier, who puts all of your chocolates into a bag. you decide you'll gift them later, when you're in the comfort of the dorm.

"okay let's leave—" you pause when you turn around, breath catching.

because satoru is staring at you, an odd expression on his face. there's something behind his eyes—realization mixed with another emotion you can't quite place.

you're not sure if the expression excites you or scares you.)

you don't expect tsumiki to be so excited when you push open the door. she bounds out of her small bedroom, practically tripping over herself as she chants your name over excited giggles.

"hey kiddo, how was school?" you smile as she throws her arms around your waist. you pat her hair, making a mental note to take her for a haircut sometime soon.

"good! my friends gave me some chocolates today!" she's giddy as she says this, and you smile playfully.

"oh yeah? any boys?"

she immediately flusters at your quirked brow and teasing grin. "of course not!"

you laugh, patting her head again as you take a seat on the couch. "okay okay! where's your brother?"

you don't see the dark haired nine-year-old anywhere. normally he'd be doing his homework at the kitchen table—so much more diligent than you ever were at that age.

"he's in his room," tsumiki answers, and your eyes catch the sneaky bit of amusement in her face.

"doing what?" you ask curiously. she smothers a smile, shrugging.

"i'm not sure." she raises her voice to call out. "megumi! she's here!"

you can hear him grumbling down the hall, hear his little footsteps padding across the floor—affection swells within you.

you think back to the day satoru dragged you to meet him, and you internally remind yourself to thank him.

"hey gumi." you offer the kid a smile, though it falters when you notice the way his hands are hiding behind his back even as he mumbles a quiet greeting in return. "what's wrong?"

"i…" his voice catches, and you notice the heavy pink flush crawling up his neck and into his cheeks. "i just wanted to…"

he trails off again, and tsumiki nudges him discreetly. "just do it!" she whispers, not all that quietly. your eyes dart between them in confusion, and megumi tries to sink into his sweater's collar.

"megumi what's wrong? are you okay?" there's a note of concern you can't keep from your voice, and tsumiki gently pushes him closer to you. "did something happen?"

"no…" he mumbles, attempting to hide his face even more. "i just wanted to…give…"

you blink owlishly. "give…?"

megumi lets out an exasperated huff, brows pinching helplessly before thrusting his arms into your line of sight. "here!"

your lips part. in his little hands are a box of chocolates and a small stuffed bear.

"this is…" you trail off, taking them from his hands.

"he wanted to give you something for valentine's day! to show you how much he appreciates you!" tsumiki interjects, practically bouncing on her feet.

"no i didn't! it's just chocolates stop making it sound like such a big deal!" megumi immediately snaps, glaring at his sister. you can practically see his cheeks burn with embarrassment, and you think you will never stop caring for this kid. there's a tickle of a distant memory—small fists clenched around a backpack and deep green eyes that stare up at you in childish apprehension.

those same green eyes now sneak glances at you, assessing your reaction, and you decide to put him out of his misery.

"this is so sweet megumi. thank you!" you smile at him gratefully, touched beyond recognition. your heart swells with affection once more.

megumi shoves his hands into his pockets, a stubborn pout on his face that makes the fat of his cheeks look that much more endearing. "whatever, it's not a big deal."

tsumiki shoots him a glare, before turning to you with a wide smile. "he says that but he was really excited to get you something!"

megumi gapes at her, eyes going wide in betrayal before they narrow. "shut up! besides it was gojo-san who gave me the idea!"

you blink, before smiling somewhat gingerly. though there is a strange sort of satisfaction in you when you hear those words—the mention of satoru's name. as detached as he tries to remain, you know all too well how much more there is to his character.

"i thought gojo-san would suggest flowers," tsumiki ponders, reaching out to squish the little bear before looking at you curiously. "aren't flowers a typical gift to get someone for valentine's day?"

you shrug, smiling carelessly. "i guess so. but i'm glad he didn't because i don't really like flowe—"

it hits you. echoes of a conversation that occurred many many winters ago. it washes over you, a refreshing tide that cools your skin and tickles your face.

of course, it made sense now that you thought about it. there were no secrets between satoru and suguru after all.

a chime cuts through the silence. you glance down at your phone to see a casual text from the snowy haired wonderboy who has been by your side since the beginning, and you can't help but smile.

i'll be home in a minute :P

a promise that has remained constant all these years.

so you type back.

hurry back. waiting for you.

you smile to yourself, heart thudding heavily against your ribcage. "hm."

tsumiki quirks a brow. "what?"

"nothing," you shake your head, wetting your lips as you reach down to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. she smiles at you, stars in her eyes, and you think you'll remember that smile forever. "i was just thinking."

"about what?" megumi can't stop the curiosity from seeping into his voice as he peers at you. you grin, gently patting his head with the bear plushie and laughing when he swats you away.

"valentine's day," you answer, smiling at them as you stand up to head to the door. you already know who's about to knock. "i was just thinking that it's not too bad of a holiday."

#gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #stsg x reader #satosugu x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #gojo x reader x geto #jjk angst #jjk fluff #gojou satoru x reader #getou suguru x reader #gojo satoru x you #geto suguru x you #satoru gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #gojo fluff #geto fluff #gojo angst #geto angst #suguru x reader

[priniya]

okay, so i would like to request a theodore nott x reader where reader is like this kind of shy, studious type of girl and theo has had a crush on her for the longest time? like, he always sees her muttering the answers to professors questions and studying in the library and reading in every corner of the castle. maybe she gets dragged to a party by one of her more extroverted friends and ends up hiding away in the corner where theo comes and puts the moves on her?

i've read a few of your fics and adored them, you are such a good writer <33 if you can't get to this ask, i understand. i hope this finds your well <33

🗺️ SMALL WORLDS

synopsis. being an introvert pushed into a crowd of over extraverts isn’t what you imagined doing on a friday night. good thing that theodore nott seems to be the best extrovert you could ever find to be around.

notes. theodore nott x shy!reader. kind of high school!au

req. i’m like. so in love with that request. liz i love you. its all i needed in my life to feel completed. hope i exceeded ur expectations 🕺 also pride n prejudice reference??

oh.

theo didn’t expect to see you there. you were never a party person, you hardly ever went out to hogsmeade with your friends or paid attention to something that wasn’t your thrifted, muggle books. however now, you were standing all dolled up in the corner of the room, surrounded by gwen and betty, – who wanted to make sure you’d be okay on your own – anxiously scanning the common room, when the two girls left you.

something in his mind could tell him that the party wasn’t exactly your cup of tea, the huge, loud crowd you were pushed into was probably just giving you a hard time adjusting to the atmosphere. it wasn’t hard to notice as your eyes couldn’t focus on one thing, hands trembled and you were getting pale, so you had to sit on the emerald chair.

“it’s not nice to stare.” pansy nudged him in his ribcage teasingly, catching his attention almost immediately. his best friend had her arm wrapped around ginny weasley’s waist and a drunken smile spread over her lips. “go get ‘er tiger.” she added, watching him roll his eyes and walk somewhere.

maybe he stared a little. and maybe he made it a little too obvious — or obvious enough to get teased for it by his friends. he had to keep his cool or he would probably scare the shit out of you for being such a creep who just stared. not only at the moment, but also in class when you sit somewhere in front of him, or at the slytherin table.

and, to just make clear that theo has been interested in the curious creature you were, he even started coming to the library more often, staying there and pretending to read, when he couldn’t, so utterly distracted by the way your eyes move, or the way you have to take breaks to react to the book you’re reading, or the way you sometimes look his way, but look away the second you make eye contact.

theodore nott has never been a shy type of guy — overly confident, always hanging out with the elite, and looking above on everybody. or maybe that’s what everyone thought, because when he was to make a few steps in your direction, all the traits people knows him for were gone. he felt like a little kid, who wanted to ask his mom a big, important question, but couldn’t let it out of him.

his legs felt wobbly, making him as confused as it was possible. he’s never experienced anything like that over a girl who’s doubtlessly more into the book on her lap than she’d ever been into him. a stupid smile appeared on nott’s face the second you brought your gaze higher, falling on his lightly flushed face.

“uh, hi.” you struggled to let out, a little flustered that he came up to you like that. having closed the book, your gaze fell on his face one more time, analysing who you’re talking to, though it didn’t take too long to figure out it was theodore nott.

“hey.” he replied, shamelessly taking a seat next to you. for the fifteen seconds he was walking there, he thought about all the possibilities of conversation, but then? he just sat next to her silently for half a minute. “doin’ alright?” a question left his lips.

“i–, uh. kind of.” you lied, stuttering at the same time.

of course you knew theodore nott, who didn’t? he was a friend of mattheo and draco, a lacrosse player and a smart-talker. never studying, but always perfect on tests. and, in addition to top it all – undeniably handsome that keeping eyes off him was like a death sentence.

his eyes rolled in playfulness. “funny. you look more than just miserable.” the boy commented, his eyes fixated on your face as he speaks. “would you mind if i keep you company?” theo flashed you a cheeky smile and you just shook your head silently, watching him as he took a closer seat.

“you don’t have to speak.” nott added quickly, seeing a piece of distress at him keeping you company, and the way your hands gripped the cup you held. “you can just… act like you listen to whatever i’m sayin’, that’s fine with you?” his head tilted to the side waiting for a most likely short answer.

once you agreed or maybe it’s better to say once you didn’t refuse, he started rambling, rambling and rambling, trying so hard to make you laugh — chuckle, at least. oh and was he so proud of himself when he finally did. and minutes after that, you started replying to him more often, and god, it sent him to heaven, even though he was the one speaking much more, hearing you reply once in a while was enough.

the music was getting louder with each second, and he took you out for a walk, showing you around a little, because you were not exactly from that part of the town. “you smoke?” he asked, and he knew the answer immediately. you didn’t, but you nodded, waiting till he extends his hand with the pack of cigarettes.

you brought the cigarette to your parted lips, feeling his gaze on you. the motive for the whole smoking part was completely unknown to you — you never smoked, neither did you want to, but how could you ever say no to theodore nott, when he ditched the party to talk to you.

so… somehow, it led you to do what you can to impress him. you took a drag, feeling his eyes on you, and… started coughing so much you had to hold his arm for a few seconds to keep your composure. you could see theo trying his best not to laugh at your poor attempt at smoking. his teeth dig into his bottom lip as he bit back a smile, not wanting to make you feel bad.

“it’s better that way.” he nudged your side lightly, trying to cheer you up, seeing the embarrassment painting all over your face. “someone really doesn’t want you to smoke up there.” theo joked, making the corners of your lips curve a little upwards.

there was a comfortable silence between the two of you for some time, just walking around the town, enjoying each other’s presence until he finally decided to give it a break. “you’re not the type to party.” theodore stated, giving you a side glance. “lost a bet or something?” he asked, his left eyebrows lifted.

you walked beside him, hands laced behind your back as he asks the question. you couldn’t help but tilted your head slightly to the side to take a better view of him — of his sharp jawline, high cheekbones, those beautiful eyes of his and those lips— shit. you almost forgot he asked you a question and maybe even worse, noticed you staring.

“no.” he got a little head shake for an answer, before you found yourself revealing even more. “just promised my friends i’d go out with them.”

to theo, it sounded like something you’d do. even though he hardly ever spoke more than few words to you, he’s been perceptive and watching you in class was something he did most of the time, the reason behind it? his crush fell too deep to not continue looking for an opportunity to make a move.

“mhmm.” he mumbled under his breath, turning his face to look at you, a smile creeping onto his lips. “to be fair, despite the visible discomfort on your face, you look real pretty.” theo gave you a cheeky smile, before adding. “though, comfort looks so much better on you.”

shit. this motherfucker. his smooth way with words got you blushing from the top of your head down to your toes. before you could even stutter an answer, you felt the fuzzy insides of his coat on your shoulders. it felt so unreal yet so realistic at the same time. were you dreaming? you wish you weren’t.

“is it really that visible?” a soft sigh has left your lips, stopping in your tracks to look at him. “nah, just if someone has been paying attention to you before, they’ll notice.” the boy shrugged, your cheeks growing even hotter.

he’s been paying attention to you. theodore nott, the slytherin, has been paying enough attention to you to notice how uncomfortable you were in gwen’s dress. his cheeky smile got even cheekier as you were processing everything in your mind, the two of you standing in front of each other in the middle of the pavement.

your lips were slightly parted as you tried to think of something to say without embarrassing yourself more. you didn’t even catch the moment when he leaned a little closer until the two of you were inches away. “theo…?” a quiet whisper escaped your lips, your head tilted upwards to look at him.

“i’ve been infatuated with you for a while now.” confessed theodore, your breath hitching in your throat. what now? “it’s not the ‘i like you’ talk, it’s the mr. darcy’s ‘you’ve bewitched me, body and soul’ talk. i’m not myself when you’re not around.” his words are like honey on your ears, his hand finding yours, your eyes never leaving his.

“you like jane austen?” you giggled, accidentally interrupting his confession.

“y/n.” he groaned. “please, can i kiss you? i don’t think i’ll be able to breathe without it.” theo seemed desperate, but you couldn’t mind, it was theo who wanted to kiss you, the guy you always stared, when no one looked, the only guy that ever appeared in your dreams.

it took him just a small nod from you to lower his head and crush his lips into yours. at first, you could feel all the emotions he wanted you to feel — the desperation, the need, and the happiness that came with finally being able to kiss you. his fingers found its way to your hair, pulling you even closer as your lips moved against his so perfectly.

if it wasn’t for your fist that gripped the fabric of his collar, you’d probably pass out from the sensation of his mouth on yours. you had to break out for a few seconds to catch some air, but this time — you were the one who kissed him, standing on your tiptoes, kissing him like your life depends on it. he tasted like the liquor he had drunk before you two got away, and menthol cigarettes.

his forehead is resting against yours, after the two of you finally pull away yet so slightly. “were you for real?”

“i have never been as for real as i am right now, y/n. if being so enamoured with you was a crime, i’d be facing lifetime.”

#theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott rec #theo nott x reader #theo nott #theodore nott #pansy parkinson #slytherin #theodore nott fic #theodore nott x reader #theo nott fic #slytherin boys #harry potter #harry potter fic #the lightning era #lightning era fic #niki’s works 🫂 #theo nott x you

[agaypanic]

Is this how you request a fic? I have no idea but I’ll try. I’m craving Regina George content. Can you please write something where reader is apart of the plastics but she’s not mean like the rest of them and that’s why Regina likes her. When Cady shows up and Regina has an interest in cady it’s too make reader jealous but instead cady ends up liking reader who distances herself from the plastics and then Regina gets jealous and admits her feelings so reader doesn’t end up with cady. If that makes sense? Thank you!

Craving Your Attention (Regina George X Plastic!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Regina George is the queen of North Shore High and she doesn’t like to share her toys, even if she doesn’t really play with them. 

A/N: kinda toxic!regina even tho thats not really a surprise. slight cady x reader, she likes you instead of aaron (also aaron doesn’t exist teehee). The girls arent homophobic bc cady tells gretchen she likes reader and regina ends up with reader (saying this bc idk if you’re gonna read this with 2004 regina or 2024 regina in mind, and obviously 2004 was a different time lmao) content warning for diet talk but it’s just part of one scene. Heavily relied on the mean girls (2004) script for this fic, so it's almost all written centered around Cady. all in third person which felt a lil weird to write because i usually write in second person lol idk if anyone’s gonna want a part 2 but imma lyk rn that im not planning on writing a part 2, mainly bc this took so painstakingly long

***

Everyone at North Shore High knew about Regina George. They’d be stupid not to. She was practically royalty. 

A queen bee was nothing without her little worker bees. First was Karen Smith. She seemed to give a whole new meaning to the word ‘clueless,’ but she was friendly. In more ways than one.

Then there’s Gretchen Wieners. She was Regina’s eyes and ears, whether it was wanted or not. All she wanted to do was please her leader.

And finally, there was Y/n L/n. If any of the plastics were to be deemed approachable, it was her. She was Regina’s right-hand girl, maybe even a bit more than that. But no one ever brought that up.

But then Cady Heron came to North Shore.

“Is he bothering you?” Regina tilted her head as she looked at the redheaded girl and the familiar boy who was talking to her. Y/n, who was sitting next to Regina, looked up from her food in curiosity. Regina didn’t usually talk to anyone outside of the table during lunch. The girl made a nondescript noise, so Regina turned her attention to the boy. “Jason, why are you such a skeez?”

Jason rolled his eyes, but tried to seem polite.

“I’m just being friendly.”

“You were supposed to call me last night,” Gretchen pouted, looking over her shoulder at Jason.

“Jason.” Attention was brought back to Regina with the simple call of his name. She wore a sweet smile, which meant that Jason was probably about to get a bite taken out of him. “You do not come to a party at my house with Gretchen and then scam on some poor, innocent girl right in front of us three days later. She’s not interested.” Regina then turned to the redheaded girl. “Do you wanna have sex with him?”

She looked shocked, giving an immediate no.

“Good. So it’s settled.”

“You can go shave your back now,” Y/n finished, and the four plastics waved him off. Jason walked away, but not before muttering an insult to the girls.

“Good one,” Regina said quietly to Y/n, who couldn’t help but smile a bit at the small praise. Before she could reply, Regina’s eyes followed after the red-haired girl, who was now starting to walk away. “Wait.” The single word made her stop in her tracks and look back. “Sit down.”

Regina moved her hands, signaling Gretchen and Karen to move to the sides of the lunch bench to make room for this mystery girl. After some more encouragement, she sat down.

“What’s your name?” Y/n asked sweetly, trying to ease the girl’s nerves.

“Cady.”

“Why don’t I know you?” Regina asked, looking at Cady curiously.

“I’m new,” Cady replied. “I just moved here from Africa.”

“What?”

“I used to be home-schooled.”

“Wait. What?”

Cady took a second, wondering why Regina kept saying ‘what.’ She didn’t think it was that confusing.

“My mom taught me at home-”

“No, no.” Regina laughed. “I know what ‘home-school’ is; I’m not stupid. So, you’ve actually never been to a real school before?”

As she spoke, Regina leaned more and more forward towards Cady. And as the conversation continued, Y/n wondered why Regina was taking such an interest in her. Regina never cared about anyone who passed by, too involved in the latest gossip session Gretchen had started or in Y/n’s appearance. Not that Y/n really noticed that; she was busy thinking about Regina to see that Regina was thinking about her. Either way, she didn’t understand why the blonde was suddenly so fascinated by this new girl.

“You’re like, really pretty.”

Oh… That must be why.

Y/n seemed to tune the rest of the conversation out, too wrapped up in Regina’s compliment towards Cady and the bright smile she wore while giving it. She didn’t know why it bothered her. It’s not like Regina belonged to her. If anything, Y/n, along with the rest of the Plastics, belonged to Regina.

Even when Regina brought Gretchen and Karen in close to speak to them and Y/n, leaving Cady awkwardly leaning back to give them more privacy, Y/n didn’t care much to listen. The gist of the conversation was that they wanted Cady to sit with them at lunch for a week, something they had never considered doing with anyone else in this school.

“Okay.” Regina started as Gretchen and Karen relaxed back into their seats, and Cady leaned back in. “You should just know that we don’t do this a lot, so this is, like, a really huge deal. We wanna invite you to have lunch with us every day for the rest of the week.” Regina wore a grin that meant she was up to something, but Cady didn’t seem to decipher that, and the rest of the girls didn’t know what it meant.

“Oh, it’s okay—” Cady’s tone seemed to indicate that she was about to decline, but Regina interrupted her before she could.

“Coolness.” The bell rang, and Regina’s eyes darted over to Y/n before going back to Cady. Her mischievous smile remained present as she, Gretchen, and Karen grabbed their trays. “So we’ll see you tomorrow.”

The three Plastics stood up and left the table, leaving Y/n in a slight daze and Cady confused about what had just happened. Y/n suddenly looked around, realizing that her friends had left without her, but the new girl was still with her. She figured that she should say something before leaving her alone. She didn’t have to be mean or unpleasant just because Regina seemed to like Cady.

“On Wednesdays, we wear pink.” Y/n said it with a timid but sweet smile, trying to get over the revelation that the girl she loved was setting her sights on someone else. Her hand patted Cady’s a few times before she stood up and picked up her tray. “Welcome to North Shore.”

As Cady watched Y/n leave, and as Janis and Damian dragged the redhead away to interrogate her about her interaction with Regina, she couldn’t help but feel warm. Maybe public school wouldn’t be so bad.

***

The next day, Cady was slightly nervous to sit with the Plastics. She felt like a double spy. Janis and Damian were under the impression that Cady was doing it for them, to listen in on Regina’s secrets and relay them back to her friends so they could laugh at the pathetic and superficial nature of it all. And sure, that was the main reason she was sitting with the girls. But Cady also returned to the table so she could bask in a new light, Y/n. 

But living in girl world came with a bunch of rules.

“You can’t wear a tank top two days in a row, and you can only wear your hair in a ponytail once a week. So…” Gretchen laughed lightly, seeming a little nervous for no reason as she looked at Cady, who was wearing her hair in a ponytail. “I guess you picked today. Oh! And we only wear jeans or track pants on Fridays.”

“Which totally blows in the winter,” Y/n muttered before sipping her Diet Coke.

“Now,” Gretchen started again, “if you break any of these rules, you can’t sit with us at lunch.” Cady seemed surprised, but Gretchen continued. “Not just you! Like, any of us. Okay, so, like, if I was wearing jeans today, I would be sitting over there with the art freaks.” She said it with a grimace, pointing over to a table a few feet away from the girls before looking back at Cady. “Oh, and we always vote before we ask someone to eat lunch with us, because you have to be considerate of the rest of the group. I mean, you wouldn’t buy a skirt without asking your friends first if it looks good on you.”

Everyone nodded except for Cady, who was processing all of these new rules she had to follow.

“I wouldn’t?”

“Right,” Gretchen said with a definitive nod. “And it’s the same with guys. Like, you may think you like someone, but you could be wrong.”

“One hundred twenty calories and forty-eight calories from fat,” Regina interrupted, reading a food bar that she had grabbed. She looked at her friends inquisitively. What percent is that?”

“Uh… forty-eight into one hundred and twenty?” Gretchen suggested, not really sure of herself.

“No, I don’t think so, Gretch,” Y/n said, trying to think of the correct answer.

“I’m only eating foods with less than thirty percent calories from fat.”

“It’s forty percent,” Cady said suddenly, proud that she was able to do the equation in her head. Everyone looked at her, expressions varying from impressed to confused. Cady suddenly felt the need to show her work. “Well, forty-eight over a hundred and twenty equals X over a hundred-”

“So then you cross multiply to get X!” Y/n finished off with a grin, thrilled that she knew what Cady was talking about. Cady smiled back at her with the same excited energy, although looking a little more subdued. Not only was this girl super pretty and friendly, but she also seemed decently smart. Maybe Janis was wrong about these girls.

“Whatever.” Regina looked at the two girls suspiciously. She tossed the food bar onto the table and stood up. “I’m getting cheese fries. Y/n, come with me.”

Taken back by the sudden command, Y/n stumbled out of her seat and followed Regina. Cady’s eyes followed her until she was out of sight, and she sighed quietly when she couldn’t catch a glimpse of the girl anymore. 

“So!” Gretchen startled Cady with her enthusiastic voice and a hand on her shoulder. As she turned to look at her, Cady realized that Karen was also gone from the table. She must’ve gone to the bathroom or somewhere else. “Have you seen anyone you think is cute yet?”

Cady didn’t know how to answer. There was definitely one person that came to mind, but she didn’t know if she should say the name. Gretchen might react badly if Cady told her, which would most likely lead to her getting kicked out of the Plastics.

But at the same time, she didn’t want to lie. 

“Well… there’s this one.. girl.” The last word was quiet and hesitant, but Gretchen picked up on it.

“Oh my gosh, who is it?” She asked excitedly. “Do you think it’s just like, a phase, or is it more serious?”

“I dunno.” Cady shrugged. “I haven’t known her too long to be sure.”

“Who is it?” Gretchen leaned forward in her seat, completely invested in Cady’s answer. It took the redhead a long moment of hesitancy to open her mouth.

“It’s Y/n…”

“No!” Gretchen straightened up, looking absolutely horrified. She looked around, ensuring none of the other girls were back yet. “You can’t like Y/n. Not only is she a part of the group, but… Okay, you didn’t hear this from me, and you’re, like, totally forbidden from ever bringing it up. But Regina is really possessive over Y/n. They’ve been best friends for, like, forever, and Regina chases off anyone who tries to so much as ask her out. And it’s not my place to say whether or not it’s more than friendship, but if I had to say something, there’s definitely something going on between them.” Gretchen took a much-needed breath, shaking her head slightly to clear her jumbled thoughts. “Look, the point is, you shouldn’t date friends. Especially Regina’s friends. But don’t worry, I’ll never tell Regina or Y/n what you said. It’ll be our little secret.”

Gretchen gave Cady a sweet smile, and that seemed to be the end of their little conversation. But for the next few days, Cady kept thinking about it.

She didn’t want to get on Regina’s bad side. That would mean no more things to tell Janis and Damian and no more seeing Y/n. And she also didn’t want to freak Y/n out. But just because Cady wasn’t allowed to like Y/n didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed to look at her. Or think about her. Or talk to her.

A few days later, when Cady was with Janis and Damian at the mall, Janis asked when Cady would see Regina next. She said it felt weird to spy on her and that she didn’t want to do it anymore. And sure, it being weird was part of why she wanted to stop. But mainly, it was because Cady had started getting so distracted by Y/n that it was difficult to focus on Regina. Which was strange, because the blonde girl was so alluring. But Janis reassured Cady that Regina would never find out about her double agent status, that it would be their little secret.

So many secrets.

***

“Hello?” Cady held the phone up to her ear, wondering who was calling her at this late hour.

“I know your secret.” Cady stiffened at Regina’s voice coming through the speaker. She internally panicked, trying to figure out what to do. How did Regina figure out about Cady’s spying?

“Secret?” She decided that playing it cool was the better move. “What secret?”

“Gretchen told me that you like Y/n.” Cady relaxed at the fact that Regina had learned about her other secret, before freezing again. Right now, she wondered if it would be better if Regina knew about the spying. “I mean, I don’t care, do whatever you want.” Regina didn’t sound like she didn’t care, but Cady didn’t bring it up. “But let me just tell you something about Y/n: She’s, like, never gone on a date before. It’s not that she’s not pretty or anything, but no one’s ever really been good enough for her.”

“Oh?” What did this mean? Did Regina deem Cady good enough for Y/n after so many others tried and failed? Or was this a set-up?

Honestly, Cady was so happy for Regina’s blessing that she didn’t really care.

“I could talk to her for you, if you want.”

“Really? You would do that?”

“We’ve been friends since like, pretty much birth. I know exactly how to play it.” There was a moment of silence, and Cady could picture Regina picking at her nails. “But wait. Aren’t you mad at Gretchen for telling me? Because if you are, you can tell me. It was a really bitchy thing for her to do.”

“Yeah, it was pretty bitchy, but I’m not mad.” Cady was a little mad, but she didn’t feel like saying that. “I mean, it’s better she told you instead of Y/n. I dunno, I guess she just likes the attention.” Cady didn’t know why she said that last part, but it had just spilled out of her mouth.

“See, Gretch? I told you she’s not mad at you.” Cady was a bit confused, but then another voice spoke.

“I can’t believe you think I like attention!” There was a click, and Cady assumed the Gretchen had hung up. She had no idea she was even listening.

“Okay, love you. See you tomorrow!” Cady could hear Regina’s smile, and then there was another click followed by a dial tone, showing that Cady was now the only one on the line. She then hung up herself, processing the three-way call she had just survived.

And then after that, Cady realized that she had gotten Regina’s blessing to try to pursue Y/n.

***

“What day is it?” Y/n asked, looking down at her worksheet. She didn’t usually do homework at lunch, but lately, some of her classes had been kicking her ass. 

“It’s October third,” Cady answered almost immediately, catching the suspicious eyes of Regina and Gretchen.

“Thanks, Cady,” Y/n said, looking up at the girl and giving her a sweet smile before returning to her paper.

“I dunno why you don’t just ask one of the Mathlete dorks to do it for you,” Regina said, looking over Y/n’s shoulder. “They’d probably even do it for free.”

“We’ve talked about this, Regina. If my teacher didn’t catch on, it would still totally bite me in the ass when I’d have to do a test all by myself.”

“You need help with math?” Cady asked, subtly leaning closer to Y/n. The girl looked at Cady, now completely distracted from her work.

“Yeah! I used to get it, but trig is crazy hard.” Y/n sighed, delicately rubbing at her tired eyes so she didn’t mess up her makeup. “I feel like I’m never gonna get it.”

“I can help you!” Cady said, excited over this opportunity. She had always excelled in mathematics, and now Y/n needs help with that exact subject? It seemed like fate.

“Really?” Both Y/n and Cady missed the slight glare that Regina was giving them. 

“Oh right, Cady’s like, a total nerd.” They also chose to ignore Regina’s snide comment before sipping her Diet Coke.

“That would be amazing, Cady! Maybe I could come over after school today or something?”

Cady was about to say yes, a million times yes, but Regina butted in.

“Y/n, you’re coming over to my house today.” It didn’t really feel like Regina was reminding her of forgotten plans. Instead, it sounded like Regina was coming up with a reason for Y/n to be unavailable. Cady’s suspicions were confirmed by the confused look Y/n gave the blonde.

“I am?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh… Well, how about tomorrow?”

“Perfect!” Cady spoke quickly and enthusiastically before Regina could say another word.

***

Over the next month or so, Cady tutored Y/n a few days every week. It quickly became their favorite part of their days. After helping with a few problems Y/n was stuck on, the two girls would get distracted by conversations about whatever they wanted to talk about. Neither of them felt the need to filter themselves in fear of being made fun of by one of the other Plastics, mainly Regina. Topics ranged from the latest gossip to future plans to their favorite things in media. If Cady had never heard of something Y/n brought up, which was the case nine times out of ten, the tutoring session would turn into a movie night or music party.

“Oh my gosh, so…” Y/n and Cady were in the middle of watching a chick flick that Cady had never seen when Y/n suddenly spoke. “I’m having a Halloween party at my place. We usually do it at Regina’s, but for some reason, she didn’t feel like doing it this year. Are you gonna come?” 

“Yeah, sure.” Cady’s response made Y/n smile brightly, a sight that Cady could never get sick of.

“Awesome!” Y/n sat up from her slouched position, her excitement waking her up from her slightly tired state. “It’s a costume party, which’ll be a lot of fun. I can give you a flier with all the info tomorrow. Even though I know you’re invited, you need the flier to get in. It only admits one person, so don’t bring anyone else with you.”

“Grool.” Y/n blinked in slight confusion, and Cady realized what she had said. “I… I meant to say ‘cool,’ and then I started to say ‘great.’”

Y/n giggled, which made Cady’s cheeks heat up.

“Right. Well, grool.” The two laughed, and then Y/n looked down at her watch. “Oh my gosh, it’s so late. I should probably get going.” With the help of Cady, Y/n gathered her things. “See you tomorrow!” In a flash, Y/n kissed Cady’s cheek before walking out of the room and leaving Cady’s house. Cady’s cheeks felt like they were on fire, and she lightly touched the cheek Y/n had kissed.

***

One thing that no one told Cady was that on Halloween, many girls opted for very revealing costumes rather than actual costumes. So when she arrived at Y/n’s house, she stuck out like a sore thumb in her dead bride attire while her friends wore tight clothes and animal ears.

“Why are you so scary?” Gretchen asked with concern, looking at Cady’s appearance with wide eyes.

“It’s Halloween,” Cady said with a shrug, not knowing what the problem was.

Suddenly, a hand touched Cady’s arm, making her jump. But she quickly relaxed when she saw who was touching her.

“You came!” Y/n squealed, bringing Cady in for a hug. The redhead felt a bit flustered by the contact, plus seeing Y/n in her slightly revealing outfit. When they broke the embrace, Y/n held Cady by the shoulders, surveying her outfit. “And you’re a… zombie bride…?”

“An ‘ex-wife.’” Cady replied, using her fingers to air quote.

“Well, I love it.” Y/n finally let go of Cady, although she wouldn’t have been opposed if she kept holding onto her. “You want something to drink?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll be right back.” 

Y/n squeezed Cady’s arm for a quick moment before turning around. She weaved her way through the crowd to get to the kitchen, where a shit load of different drinks were scattered on the counters. She started mixing a drink for Cady when she felt a presence behind her.

“What the hell is Cady wearing?” Regina asked, squinting to see Cady from across the room.

“She’s a zombie bride!”

“She looks like a freak.”

“Regina!” Y/n set down the bottle she was pouring and looked at the blonde. “Be nice.”

“Whatever.” Regina rolled her eyes, pushing her hair off her shoulder before leaning on the kitchen counter. “You know, you should probably be careful around her. She has a giant crush on you.”

“What?” Y/n’s eyes snapped to Regina, immediately curious. “How do you know?”

“She told me. She tells everybody. It’s kinda cute, to be honest. She’s like a little girl.” Regina laughed, and Y/n tilted her head and raised her brows, silently asking for more details. “Like, she writes ‘Y/n plus Cady’ and stuff like that all over her notebook. And she made this shirt that says ‘I heart Y/n’ and she wears it under all of her clothes.

“Oh, come on.” Y/n sighed and rolled her eyes, figuring Regina had been joking. “That’s not funny, Regina.”

“I’m serious! She’s, like, obsessed with you. And who can blame her?” Regina’s hand reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair away from Y/n’s face. When Y/n looked at her friend, she was suddenly closer than before. “I mean, you’re gorgeous.”

“Regina.”

“If I’m being honest… I hate the way she looks at you.” Regina grabbed Y/n’s chin before she could look away, forcing them to maintain eye contact. “It makes me sick. She should know better than to think she has a chance with you.”

“What are you saying, Regina?” Y/n’s voice was barely a whisper, but the blonde heard her loud and clear despite being in a crowded room with blasting music and semi-drunk teenagers.

“I’m saying you’re mine, Y/n.” With every word, Regina inched closer and closer. “I don’t want you to be with Cady. Or with anyone else.” 

Regina closed the small gap between her and Y/n’s lips, wrapping her arms around Y/n’s body to keep her close. After the wave of shock washed over her, Y/n reciprocated the kiss. Neither of them cared about any of the people around them watching. Including Cady, who watched from across the room with watery eyes and a breaking heart. 

Cady had lost Y/n to a competition she didn’t even know she had. Y/n had finally gotten the girl she had been wanting for years after being kept at arm’s length away. And Regina had once again ruined someone else’s happiness for her own.

***

Regina George Taglist: @wedfan2 @pyro-les @natashamaximoff-69

#agaypanic #regina george x reader #regina george #mean girls #mean girls x reader #rachel mcadams x reader #rachel mcadams #renee rapp #renee rapp x reader

[totheblood]

I WISH I NEVER MET YOU. (2)

pairing: ex!ellie williams x reader

warnings: cursing, drinking, bitchy ellie, bitchy reader

a/n: . ellie sings in this one... ai audios in the fic <3 reblogs, asks, and replies are so appreciated and encouraged! thank u kisses

wc: 2.3k

"texted and saw you read it, lately i'm so pathetic."

This was turning out to be the worst trip you have ever been on.

It was one thing to be stuck in a house with your ex-girlfriend who hates your guts, but it was another thing to be stuck with her and her new girlfriend. Her new perfectly pretty and normal girlfriend who was probably going to give her everything she ever wanted. Who probably made her happy. You don’t know why that thought upset you so much.  

You ignored the pit in your stomach as you hauled the bags out of the back of Cora’s car and into the house. The comfort this place used to give you now had a sour tinge to it. This would now be forever known as the place where you watched your ex-girlfriend move on. The worst part was that you deserved this. Whatever sick and twisted game Ellie was playing, you deserved, and you knew that. 

As you approached the French doors, Jesse burst through them, arms coming up to squeeze you tightly. You laughed as he took the air out of you, lifting you up from your spot, your bags dropping in your hand. 

“If it isn’t Miss Lemon Drop,” Jesse beamed, putting you down and examining your face, touching it with his bare hand “You look older.”

“Oh, shut up,” you swatted his hand away from your face, a smile plastered across it, “aren’t you pushing thirty?” 

“I’m 25,” he shook his head laughing, picking up your bags and helping you bring them inside, “and I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Jess,” you pulled him into a hug, needing the comfort that only he could provide. 

“What’s wrong?” Pulling away, his eyes searched your face frantically. He always knew when something was up with you. You were not convinced he couldn’t read your mind. 

“Nothi-” your voice was cut off by the sound of laughter coming through the door. June, with her long blonde hair, was giggling as she held onto Ellie’s arm, Ellie holding two pink bags on her other arm. They were clearly not her luggage. 

“Oh,” was all Jesse said as he gave you a pitiful look and pushed past you to greet Ellie and her new ‘friend’. 

They all began laughing and hugging, the introductions overflowing as they stood in the foyer. Deciding you didn’t want anything to do with it, you picked your bags up and made your way up the stairs to the room you usually stayed in. Plopping your shit down, you laid down on the bed, closing your eyes for just a moment. You needed to catch your breath for a moment away from everyone. The peace was just starting to set in as the door swung open and in walked Ellie.

You leaned up on your elbows, giving her a confused look as you watched June’s figure appear behind her. 

“What are you doing?” She asked, tone still laced with coldness, however, there was a much lighter air to it now. She was trying to save face in front of her new girlfriend.

“Resting on my bed,” you replied matter-of-factly, looking towards the bags in her hand. 

“This is our room,” Ellie stated, pursing her lips before giving a quick glance to June who opened her eyes slightly, giving Ellie a knowing look.

“This has always been my room,” you looked at her, sitting up straighter now.

“Yeah, but it’s the only other one with a double bed,” Ellie put the bags down on the large dresser, shaking her head and shrugging, “and you don’t really have anyone to share the bed with.”

June snorted from her place in the doorway, causing you to look at her with a scowl on her face. Ellie was smirking to herself as she pushed her hands into her pockets. 

“You could share the guest room with Faye,” she offered, the stupid smirk still on her face, “I mean that was usually my bed but you are free to have it.”

“You’re too kind, Ellie,” you gave her a sickly sweet smile. If this was the game she was playing, you would be playing just as hard. Smiling, you picked up your bags and turned to June who was still standing in the doorway, “I guess we both get sloppy seconds this trip.” 

With that, you pushed past her and down the hallway. That would have been satisfying if you hadn’t felt snubbed by Ellie. When you opened the guest bedroom Faye was already sitting on her bed, phone in hand as she texted. You didn’t know Faye that well, but you still got along. She smiled when she saw you, putting her phone away as she got up to hug you.

“Oh my god,” She laughed as she squeezed you, “You’re staying with me?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, hugging her back before dropping your things on the ground, “Ellie and her new girlfriend stole my room.”

She looked at you with wide eyes, “Ellie has a girlfriend?” She gasped as she moved back to sit on her bed. You picked your stuff up again, moving around to place them on your bed.

“Yup,” you said, popping your lips on the ‘p’, “she’s very pretty, glossy lips type. You know now that I mention it, she’s more like your type.” 

Faye squinted at you before rolling her eyes as her cheeks tinged a deeper color. Faye was probably the most outwardly open out of the group. She grew up in a fairly liberal family that allowed her to express herself from a very early age. Due to that, she never shied away from her sexuality. She liked women, and she let them know, but she never was the committed type. A fuckboy of sorts.

But beyond that, Faye was just nice. She knew how to listen and give advice without sounding condescending, always sitting close to you with a warm hand on your back. And she was pretty, insanely pretty with chocolate brown eyes and perfectly tanned skin. Faye was dreamy wrapped up in a 5’5 body.

“What do you know about my type?” She joked, eyes watching you as you began to unpack your things.

“I’ve been out with you,” you laughed, pulling clothes from your bag and moving to put them in the closet, “I’ve seen who you’ve gone home with.”

She giggled, getting up again to help you hang stuff up. She was so nice that it pissed you off sometimes. It mostly pissed you off when you thought that she and Ellie had a thing before she revealed to you that she was more into femmes. The jealousy subsided, but the wish that you were more like her remained. 

“Maybe I’ll steal her from Ellie,” she smirked as she collected the rest of your things, holding them to you as you put them in the closet.

“You?” you scoffed, a smile dancing on your lips, “yeah right.”

“Hey,” she pouted, nudging you with her shoulder, “I’m not that ugly.”

“No!” you yelled, stopping for a moment and looking at her, “Not like- I didn’t mean it like that. You’re pretty, really fucking pretty. It’s just that you’re too nice to steal anyone’s girlfriend.”

Her cheeks tinged pink again, “You think I’m nice?” 

“Shut up.”

When the clothes were put away and sorted, you and Faye went downstairs for lunch. The dining room was large and scattered with fruit, small premade and cut-up sandwiches, and little eateries. You never got used to how rich Cora actually was. But when you got there, June and Ellie were already at the table. Ellie was feeding June a grape,  June’s legs splattered over Ellie’s lap. Her free hand held firmly onto her thigh. You wanted to throw up. However, when you looked at Faye, she also looked like she wanted to throw up.

Quickly, she pulled you out of the room and back down the hallway, her breath heavy. 

“Faye, what the fuck?” you whisper yelled, looking into her eyes as they kept glancing to the opening down the hallway to the dining room. 

“That’s my ex-girlfriend,” She whispered back.

“Your what?”

“My ex-girlfriend,” she repeated.

“I thought you didn’t date,” your face had confusion etched into it.

“I don’t,” she whispered shaking her breath, “not since her.”

“Oh,” you replied, feeling a little relieved that this trip wouldn’t just suck for you.

“You need to pretend to be my girlfriend,” Faye demanded, her face serious. You burst out laughing, but when she didn’t even crack a smile, your laughter faded.

“I can’t-”

“It will make Ellie jealous,” She replied quickly, eyes frantic and wide, almost like she was begging, “Please, I cant make her think she has one up on me.”

“She doesn’t have one up on you,” you tried to remind her.

“Except she does,” she sighed, “she’s able to move on, and I’m not. Even after 3 years.”

You took a deep breath. The idea of making Ellie jealous made your heart flip in the best way possible. Even though you ended things, you still wanted her to want you. You were pretty sure you still wanted her. It also wouldn’t hurt to help Faye out. Maybe living in the delusion that you were in a happy relationship was the only thing you needed to get past this trip without multiple meltdowns. 

“Fine,” you spat out, “but it needs to look realistic. You need to be all touchy with me.”

“Easy,” she coughed for a moment, “done.”

Faye stuck her hand in your back pocket as you made your way down the hallway and back out into the dining room. You pretended to fake laugh at something she said, putting your hand on her waist as you entered the room. The laugh caused both Ellie and June to look up at the two of you. To really play it off you quickly separated yourself from Faye as if you had been caught. You looked towards Ellie who had a blank look on her face, her lips turned downwards as she looked between you and Faye. 

“Faye?” June asked voice sing songy as she stood up and ran to give her a hug. Faye didn’t hug back, just lightly stepped back as she placed her arm around your shoulders. 

“June,” she looked at you with a shocked face as if this was her first time noticing her. Get this girl a fucking Oscar, you thought, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m with,” she turned around, gesturing to Ellie who gave a small smile and waved to Faye before her eyes drifted back to her phone, ignoring the arm placed around your shoulder, “I’m here with my girlfriend, Ellie.”

“How do you two know each other, babe?” you asked, looking at Faye and then back to June. June paused, looking between the both of you with an expression you couldn’t quite read. 

“We, um,” Faye started, pretending to not know what to say. 

“We used to date,” June blurted out quickly, a cocky smile on her face. 

“It’s so cool how we have the same taste in women,” you smirked at June, pushing past her with your hand lodged in Faye’s to grab a pre-cut sandwich from the table, taking a bite of it and sitting down across from Ellie. You made a conscious choice to not say anything to her, but she looked mad. She was on her phone at this point, pretending (and failing) to act like she didn’t hear the conversation. But you could tell from the way her eyebrows twisted, and her nervous habit of biting her nails that she heard the entire thing and did not like it. 

Ellie knew she was a mess as she kept her head low. Get up and leave, her mind rang over and over. She was frozen in place, staring at her phone and trying not to drown in the scent of you. She moved on, she was better, so why did she feel like this? Why did it still gnaw at her stomach to see someone else touch you? Why did she care when you made it clear you didn’t care about her?

Ellie’s mind was flooded with images of you daily. Her fingernails digging into the sides of your hips, the weight of you next to her in bed, the way she had a permanent smile around you. All of it felt like an open wound, deep and fleshy, and no matter how much she stitched it up, it would open again. Her brain was all noise as she did her best to not look up at you, to not look at you intertwined with Faye. 

She couldn’t help but compare herself to her at this moment. Was she not as nice as Faye? Or as pretty? What about Faye made you pick her over Ellie? Was she softer with you? What about her did Ellie not have? Ellie didn’t even realize she was holding her breath till June placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“I’m going upstairs, El,” she whispered lowly, “might take a nap.”

“Cool,” Ellie smiled, leaning up to give her a quick peck on the lips, “I’m going outside.” 

Finally, Ellie stood from her place, not taking a second glance at you before heading outside to where the hydrangeas littered the garden and the expansive still pool hummed lightly. Placed out there was her guitar, covered where she had left it a few weeks prior. Taking it out she started strumming, singing a song she only started when you had broken up with her. 

“I’ve been having a hard time adjusting. I’ve had the shinest wheels now they’re rusting.”

She began singing, the song getting caught up in the hair. With the strum of the guitar and her mind somewhere distant, she didn’t notice you tiptoeing out into the garden. She didn’t notice you intently listening to her lyrics, in a song that she wrote for you.

“I didn’t know if you cared if I came back, I have a lot of regrets about that.”

This lyric came a month after the breakup, her fingers scrolling through the wall of texts you left her. She hadn’t replied to a single one, assuming that you didn’t really care what happened to her anymore. She thought that maybe if she didn’t have all this pain brewing in her chest, she wouldn’t feel this way anymore about you, but that was a lie. The more she left unsaid, and the more she assumed you never wanted her around, the more she hated you. 

“Pulled the car off the road to the lookout. Could’ve followed my fears all the way down.”

She drove out to your spot one day, eyes still red and puffy from weeks of crying. She was doing this to torture herself, in some sort of sadistic way she was punishing herself for you leaving her. This was the place she started realizing that she may never be enough for anyone, and that deep-rooted fear of ending up alone was still alive and well. 

Snap. 

You stepped on a branch and she stopped playing, turning around to face you but sighing deeply when she saw you. 

“Can we please not do this?” She sighed, watching as you made your way around the fire pit and sat next to her, “I really don’t have the energy.”

“It’s a beautiful song,” you commented. You never knew what you were doing when it came to her. Your feet moved long before your brain ever did. 

“Thanks,” She shuffled in her seat, staring down at her worn-out Converse. 

 “I just want to say that,” you took a deep breath, looking away from her and out into the backyard where the light was hitting the grass, “I am happy for you. You seem really happy with June.”

“Are you really?” She chuckled lightly, “Cause you were kind of an asshole back there.”

“I know,” You sighed, looking at her now, “I guess I don’t know how to handle seeing you with someone else. Just wasn’t prepared.”

She scoffed at that shaking her head. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. Ever,” you tried to reason with her.

“Well, you did,” her voice was small again.

“And I’m sorry,” you pleaded with her, “I have been apologizing forever for this.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” she sighed, “I want you to want me.”

“I have wanted you, Ellie. For so long. But things aren’t that simp-”

“Oh, cut it with the ‘things aren’t simple’ shit! I loved you and you didn't love me. That’s simple. It doesn’t get any simpler than that but save me the fucking theatrics. You owe me more than that,” it was going down that road again and you were nervous the trip would be over before it started. 

“I did love you,” you replied watching her eyes shift for a moment, the light reflecting in them beautifully, before she was scoffing again and shaking her head, “I did love you!”

“Bullshit!” she spoke over you, standing from her place now, her hand tightly wrapped around the guitar.

“Ellie, just because you are insecure you don’t get to act like I didn’t feel what I felt,” you stood, voice faltering as you spoke, the words getting caught up in your throat, “you don’t want to believe I loved you so you can feel sorry for yourself but you never once heard me out or cared about what I had to say. You just needed to feel like the victim so you could hate me.”

“I don’t hate you!” She yelled back, standing straighter now watching as anger was written all over your face, in your scrunched-up nose and doe eyes- What the fuck was happening to her?

“You sure treat me like you do,” you crossed your arms over your chest, watching as she placed her guitar on the chair and took a steadying breath.

“I hate the situation,” she breathed out, “I hate that I loved you so much and it still didn’t work out in the end. I hate that no matter what I do and wherever I go I will always have to compare whoever I’m with to you. And god forbid I meet anyone that holds a candle to you, I would just… I would lose my fucking mind thinking about all the ways they could leave me and I would have to be reminded of you again. You, who probably years into the future, I will still love. I hate that you did this to me. I hate that no matter what I do, no matter what you do to me, I will always love you.”

You were winded by her confession, by her wild eyes, and how defeated she looked as she stood in front of you. All of it overwhelmed your senses. You reached out for her hand, head bowed as you took a step towards her. Her breath hitched in her throat as you stepped closer. 

“I love you, Ellie,” you whispered, looking up at her. You were so close to her now you could hear her ragged breathing. She leaned in closer about to make a move or say something, honestly, you were unsure what was about to happen next because you were cut off by the sound of the back door slamming open and Jesse and Orion lugging a cooler outside. 

As if she was snapped back into reality, Ellie took a quick step away from you, her eyes completely glossed over as she made her way back inside without another word.

What the fuck just happened?

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fan fic #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams oneshot #modern!ellie williams #college!ellie williams #ellie williams one shot

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

Miraculous Ladybug

Open My Eyes by buggachat

Adrien smiles as he eats breakfast with Nathalie, smiles as he walks through the halls of his new lycée, smiles as people stop him on the street and tell him time and time again what a "hero" his father was.

(Adrien wishes he could've been a hero, too. He should've been. Maybe then his father would still be alive.)

(But he's surviving. Everyone may be treating him as though he were made of glass, but he can still go through the motions, he can prove them wrong, he can still smile.)

“And you’re… happy,” Marinette spoke carefully, a nervous tilt to her voice, “... right?”

(Adrien has some things to find out.)

DC

the good, the bad, and the power hungry by konan_konan

dim trake ☑ @timdrakeceo・8hr if one more person tweets about #superlex unironically im gonna end it all 391K Views | 200 Retweets | 13 Quote Tweets | 22.1K Likes

j-son of a bitch ☑ @jsntdd・8hr ↳ replying to @timdrakeceo hurr durr these are the consequences of ur actions bitch 201K Views | 109 Retweets | 4 Quote Tweets | 18.4K Likes

or: lex luthor makes bad choices. and then, so does everyone else.

call me cute and feed me sugar by suzukiblu

Tim Drake had absolutely no intentions of ever becoming anyone's sugar daddy when he met Superboy.

This would have worked out better for him if Superboy had ever had an actual legal identity or an actual legal guardian or just . . . literally anything whatsoever in life. Ever. At all.

Just a bank account, even.

how big, how blue, how beautiful by merils

Kon-El is not good with medical settings. One could even say he's quite bad with them. How bad, exactly?

Well, let's put it this way: Very few things in the world can make him scream for Superman to save him.

(Superman will save him. That's what family's for, right?)

Clone Wars

The Kenobi Chronicles by WobblyCat

General Kenobi isn't actually dead. Someone should really tell that to his troopers, though.

Or: The clones under General Kenobi's command have a groupchat dedicated to him. Cody wishes his subordinates weren't so fucking stupid.

SVSSS

Shen Yuan's Forced Shen Qingqiu Redemption Arc by SpicyReyes

The System's OOC function won't unlock all at once - instead, character traits have to be added individually, through quests. This leads to Shen Qingqiu having to jump through endless hoops just to complete enough side quests to unlock the ability to be a decent person - all while avoiding the effects it has on those around him. If only the cheapskate System wouldn't keep changing the cost of point values - he needs to know what the hell Yue Qingyuan told the others about him that makes them all look so sad when he does manage to be nice! He's breaking his back here, can't we just appreciate his work?!

second-hand alibis by nex_et_nox

"All right. I’m in Proud Immortal Demon Way," he says, once he's had a chance to compose himself again. He sits back up, tossing his stupidly long hair back over his shoulders where it belongs; he is totally calm and ready to grill the System for more information.  "Who am I supposed to be?" Please please please don't let it be someone who Bingge violently murders. Though given the fact that he's a man in PIDW, his chances are already skewed, and not in his favor. Ugh. [Bound Role: Shen Yuan, Rogue Cultivator. Weapon: the sword Heng Li. Starting B-points: 100.]

or: Shen Yuan transmigrates as a rogue cultivator, one completely unconnected to any canon characters or events. Right, System? Right?

#my laptop broke :(( can i get an f in the notes #i'm using my super old one from high school rn and i am Struggling #my posts #weekly fic round up #fic recs #svsss recs #dc recs #sw recs #ml recs

[dearabhi]

book dates • harry james potter x reader!

PART 1 of the series!

SUMMARY: harry has a crush on mikayla greene and wants to talk to her. he goes to y/n l/n in need for help.

TROPES: slytherin x gryffindor, strangers to lovers?, almost unrequited love, oblivious daft dimbos!

author's note! hey everyone! welcome to the new series, and this was acc written quite a while ago, just so lazy to post this. aneewayz, the future parts will be posted soon!! [please interact! it might encourage me to write this cute ass fic soon!]

word count: 1k? i guess

warnings! swearings.

—

“Mind telling me why were you stalking me, Potter?” Y/N said, cornering Harry in the library. Look, Harry wasn't exactly stalking her. He just wanted to talk to Y/N, but he is so nervous to do it.  So, Harry decided to just follow everywhere Y/N goes just in case Harry gets the courage to talk to her.

“I was not stalking you, L/N!” Harry manages to reply back. Y/N raises an eyebrow.

“Then why are you following me then?” Y/N questioned him. Harry tries to think of a reply.

“I was not following you either, I just happened to be in the same place as you, L/N” He lies, folding his arms. 

“Potter, I have never ever seen you set foot in the library without the company of Granger.”

Now he has a question he doesn't know how to lie about. He just has to tell the truth then. But at the same time, Harry didn't want to let go of his pride to a Slytherin, either. 

You should've thought of that before thinking of the plan, idiot! says a voice in his head. Shut up! he tells the voice.

Harry sighs and just decides to tell her instead. “Can we sit on a bench while we talk?” He asked to which Y/N nodded at him suspiciously. Harry thought she might think whatever he's trying to do is for some stupid prank.

“I want your help,” Harry said as soon as the two sat on the bench. 

“How exactly?” Y/N asks.

“W- Well, I want you to read some books for me?”He starts. Harry avoids Y/N's eyes now. She is going to laugh at him after he elaborates his master plan. And he would never ever set foot in Y/N's direction ever again. 

“Why would I ever read—” Y/N interrupts.

“Listen to me and you will understand!” Harry says quickly. “First of all, I want you to know that I have a crush on this girl from Ravenclaw. No, I am not going to say her name, sorry. She likes reading books that Hermione says would never read. And I heard you love reading books and would read any kind of book.”

“You see, L/N, I would recommend you to read some books for me and you would tell me whatever the storyline is,” Harry continues. “This is a win-win for both of us. You get to read books. You tell me about them and I get to talk to my crush about it.” Harry concludes.

Harry gathers courage to look at Y/N after elaborating his clever plan. The 'crush' he mentioned is Mikayla Greene. (You can't disagree with Harry on this opinion, Mikayla had a very beautiful laugh and eyes.) 

Harry saw Y/N, who seemed to control an urge to laugh but failed at it miserably. Harry sighed. “You can laugh if you want, I guess,”

Y/N started to laugh very loudly that Harry feared Madam Pince might kick her out of the library permanently. Still, Y/N couldn't be able to control it. 

Harry is mentally planning to sail to a far country and never come back again. Or hide in his Invisibility Cloak forever. He hates listening to his father's ideas now. He should've asked his other dad, instead.

“I— what— made —” Y/N could not even form a sentence at this point. Harry wanted to hit himself for telling her. He was also worried that Y/N might choke on her own laughter. Out of embarrassment, he covered his face.

Finally, after at least five minutes and a warning from Madam Pince, Y/N stopped laughing.

Why was Harry still here anyway? He still wants a reply after fully knowing what Y/N would say. He is a fool like that. That was when Harry noticed Y/N standing, a smile still plastered on her face. “Thank you, Potter.” She says.“I have never had a laugh like this in years.” Y/N started moving. But Harry wasn't done with her yet.

She still has not given her an answer right?

Harry finally caught on Y/N after literally chasing her. “L/N! Wait!” He shouted earning a glare from a third year girl looking at the two. Y/N stopped and turned around to face Harry.

“You still haven't told me the answer!” Harry manages to say to her despite the fact he was running out of breath.

Y/N cleared her throat, and chuckled again and replied quite firmly with a straight face.  “No.”

｡˚ ✧˚ · .

Harry being the idiot he is, did not take the rejection by Y/N for his plan to his heart. He was quite determined that Y/N would somehow accept the deal.

Harry actually knew the reason why Y/N didn't accept his deal. Harry has actually never talked to Y/N despite the fact sharing a couple of classes through the years. She probably thought he was trying to get into a prank or something.

So, what if Y/N actually gets to know about Harry? 

Harry tries that too. 

Unfortunately, Harry's all gryffindor traits left whenever he approached the h/c slytherin. He would just create a lame excuse and move out of whatever place he was in immediately.

“Potter, has anyone ever told you, you're bad at whatever you are doing right now? because you actually are.” Y/N suddenly said when Harry tried to approach to talk to her when Y/N was reading in the library.

Harry, who was (pretending to) read— looked up to the Y/N sitting in front of him. “What do you mean, L/N?”

Y/N rolled her eyes at Harry. “If you ever want to say something to me, Just say it. Anyone with a brain would know that you have been trying to approach me for the past two weeks.” 

She was coming straight to the point. Shit. What would Harry say now? He had this planned didn't he? Then why the heck is he getting nervous?

“I—I actually needed to talk to you about the plan I told you the last time. This time with a better offer,” Harry started. Y/N clearly looked disinterested. “I swear you will like it, L/N!”

“Entertain me then,” Y/N told him in a dull tone.

“Um— So, Hermione told me that there is going to be a new bookstore in Hogsmeade.” If it isn't anymore obvious, Hermione is unaware of Harry's plan, by the way. “Perhaps if you accept to help me with my plan, I would buy books from the stores on our every hogsmeade visit.”

Harry looked at Y/N eyes, which were now sparking in excitement. Y/N cleared her throat and looked convinced, maybe?

“I will maybe accept this foolish plan of yours— let me finish before frightening the whole Hogwarts with your scream,  Potter— If you read whatever book it may be with me— No! I am not finished yet! — I will only read the book if it interests me.” Y/N explained. Harry tries  not to scream and (in Y/N's words,) frighten the whole Hogwarts with his scream.

“.. and that's it?” Harry asked Y/N, after she went on and went on with her rules. 

“I will add more rules if you continue to annoy me, Potter. ” Harry rolled his eyes at that.

Atleast, Harry having Mikayla Greene as his girlfriend isn't in the far future anymore.

#harry potter #harry james potter x reader #harry james potter x y/n #harry james potter x you #harry potter x reader #harry james potter #harry james potter fluff #harry james potter smut #pls interact!! #it helps alott! #harry potter x y/n

[highwayorgantrade]

Art History

Pairing: (cis)fem!reader x Carlisle Cullen

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Cursing, the most mild nsfw (basically intense kissing and references to sex), minor choking, general tomfoolery.

Summary: A certain doctor helps you find resources for your college art history class.

Spotify Playlist: Art History

A/N: Aaah okay my first fic on this blog!! I'm so excited to get back into writing, especially with my favorite characters and people. Also, I'm sorry, I love Esmé as much as everyone else does, she does not exist here and Carlisle is the Ultimate Single Father™. And God, I did not expect it to be this long!!

The way that you met the Cullens was, at best, not ideal. A broken down car here, the offer of a ride there. It wasn't a bad thing - the friendship you had with the family had lasted all through high school up to a local community college.

When they told you the truth about who they were, what they were, you thought it was a joke.

"Yeah, very funny. Halloween isn't for another two months, and you can't all go as vampires, that would be so stupid." You snorted, returning to the homework that was scattered on the dining room table.

"(Y/N)... Think about it." Alice placed her hand on your shoulder, forcing you to listen.How are you just now noticing her hands are so cold? "Have you ever seen any of us eat? Go into the sun?"

You didn't want to think about it, you knew they would never lie to you like this. It's too insane to be a lie. But didn't they lie and pretend like they were human? It was just all too confusing, so naturally, it took you a few days before you starting going around their house again. They answered all your questions, even when you decided to punish them all a bit for not telling you sooner.

"So, have you ever thought about the ecological damage you might be doing with all the hunting?" You had been interrogating them for hours, but honestly? They were grateful. Grateful that you didn't run off and tell the entire town, or worse, flee from Forks and lose you forever.

"Honestly, we all have different preferences." Emmett replied cooly, as if you were chatting about movies. "I prefer some of the bigger stuff: Bears, wildcats. It's mostly deer, though."

"Never people." Carlisle confirms with a smile, and you almost immediately regret giving him a chance to speak. Before their confession, the pounding of your heart was a fun secret, a dream you knew would never come true. The scenarios have run through your head all the time, anytime you looked at him. And those rare moments where you felt brave enough to make eye contact? But now, you knew that it was basically a public confession. You never talked about it. The Cullens never did, either.

"I know one of you has to know something about the Reliquary of Sainte Foy." You sighed, dropping your bag at your feet.

"Please, (y/n), come in." Edward quipped from the living room.

"I mean, this whole thing makes no sense!" You continued, thinking back to every single time you've used Edward to complain. "First, she starts off the semester with the Renaissance, then goes to modern minimalism, then back to freakin' Jesus times?"

"You know," Alice strode in, reading over the same paper, "When I have questions about art history, I usually ask Carlisle." She leaned against the counter. "He's the oldest of us." The look her and Edward shared were lost to you, as you already began to think of excuses as to why you shouldn't be alone in a room with him. The fear of looking and sounding stupid overcame the desire to just do anything with him. The desire to mess up that stupidly perfect hair of his, or his cold hands roughly wrapping around your-.

No. Absolutely not.

"Ah, no! I wouldn't want to bother him. He's probably super busy, with all of his... doctoring stuff-"

"Nonsense." Edward smiled. "He would be overjoyed to help."

"Edward, seriously, don't-" You pleaded, but it was too late. Carlisle's name echoed throughout the house, but it felt like a death bell.

"I hope you find your answers!" Alice quickly took her exit out the front door, with Edward following right behind her, with a polite "Excuse me."

"(Y/N)!" He greeted you fondly, noticing Edward and Alice's backs as they walked deeper into the forest that surrounded the house. "Didn't Edward call for me?" He was watching them, but you were watching how he saw you and immediately smiled, and the way his arms flexed on the table.

Stop.

"Yeah, he did. They insisted that you could help me with art history, but this is old, old crap, and like, yeah, you're old, but you're not that old, so it's not really..." He began to smile again. "Super important." You finished, suddenly very aware of how you were standing. And how your hand rested so close to his. And how hot your face suddenly got.

"Well, what is it you need my help with?" He took your assignment paper. "The Reliquary of Sainte Foy. Around what time was that?" He looked back at you.

"Uh, the- Jesus times. Like upper double digits for the year. Which, I mean, I don't know when you were born, but I don't think you're that old, I mean you're still fun and pretty cool." God, why couldn't you just stop talking!

"Come on." He turned his back, taking your picking up your bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "I think I have something in my office."

His office? He's taking you to his office? You've been inside of it before, but it wasn't just him and you, it was him and his kids. Just keep reminding yourself: You are his children's friend. You're friends with every single one of this man's children. You're probably not even on his radar! A (publicly) mid-30 year old local surgeon, and men that looked like him in this part of Washington was rare. And to be going after a college student? Pull it together.

The steely resolve quickly crumbled as he held the door open for you to walk past him, and if you had any doubts he could hear your heart before, they were absolutely gone. You could hear your pounding heart in your head. The office was gorgeous, a few lamps and some candles gave the dark office a warm glow, and you could see he had been actively working on... something?

"I'm so sorry, did I interrupt something?" You glanced at the papers on his desk.

"Oh, no, I was just going over some old files. You could never interrupt me."

Oh.

"Now." He began scanning a section of his large bookshelves. "I unfortunately was not born in 'Jesus times,' but I was born in 1640, and my father was an Anglican priest, so I might have something about early Christian relics." He finally pulled a large dark blue book from the shelf and handed it to you. "What about The Book of Sainte Foy? Written in 1010 A.D. and translated in 1995."

"Yes, please, that would be amazing." You replied quickly, eager to spend as little time in this room as possible.

"(Y/N), you seem stressed. If college is getting to be too much, you could always take a break." His eyebrows knit together and set the book on his desk. Your eyes followed his hand and you swallowed. This cannot be happening.

"Uh, no, it's not college! College is fine. It's just... other stuff." Your hands clasped together to try and ease some of your nerves.

"Well, (Y/N), if it's something more personal, you know you can always talk to me. I've enjoyed having you around and I hate to see you upset." You knew he was trying to ease information out of you, but his words just made it harder.

"Carlisle, I-" Oh god. No. Stop talking. His hand came to rest on your upper arm, his icy hand almost burning your hot skin. You've imagined this so many times "It's you!"

Wait. No! Keep talking! The look of slight shock and confusion on his face combined with the gentle grip he had on your arm had wiped your brain of whatever you were going to say. His hand relaxed and fell back to his side.

"Me? (Y/N), did I make you uncomfortable?" His voice was soft, but serious. Fix this, now!

"No! Well, sort of. But no! Just... listen." You rubbed the back of your neck, shifting your weight between your legs. He leaned back against his desk and looked at you.

This was going to be hard.

"It's just... You make me nervous because you know, you're like a genetically modified beauty of a human being. I mean, have you seen yourself? Actually seen yourself?"

Carlisle opened his mouth to respond but he couldn't get the words out before you continued.

"You are... gorgeous. And I know, Edward's complained to me about that whole 'Oh, our beauty just lures in innocent prey so we can destroy them,' thing, but you're just a... a genuinely beautiful person. You help people in need, you go to some extreme lengths to help people because why? Because you're a doctor and it's what you do, damn it! It's amazing. You're amazing." You took a breath, filling your lungs with all the words you've kept to yourself. "And I like your hands."

And you like his hands? That's what your confession is ending on? Okay, own it.

"You like my hands?" He questioned, biting back a smile. Of course that's what he focused on. "Tell me about my hands." He stood up off his desk and moved closer to you. You felt like the breath was being sucked out of your lungs as you tried to organize your thoughts.

"Well, they're..." His hand came up to your face, thumb grazing your cheekbone.

"Go on."

"I like the way they're..." In an effort to look anywhere else but his eyes, you glanced down to his chest. His face seemed to inch closer to yours as you searched for words you knew you wouldn't find. The hand on your face traveled to the back of your neck, and his other hand found the small of your back. Your hands rested on his biceps, your last attempt to try to cover up your attraction towards him.

"Tell me you want this." Carlisle whispered, pressing you closer to him, encouraged by your racing heart.

"I want this so bad." You admitted, and those were the words that broke the both of you. He pressed you against a bookshelf as his lips met yours, and the amount of passion coming from Carlisle was shocking. His thumb came around your neck to wrap around the front, and the simple weight of his hand caused you to moan in his mouth. He smiled into the kiss and your hands went to his hair, tugging as gently as you could.

"Jump." He whispered in between kisses. The faint taste of spearmint lingered, and you whined at the loss.

"What?" You pulled back and stared at him.

"Jump."

God, please let his vampire strength come in clutch. You wrapped your legs around his waist and his hands found the bottom of your thighs. He placed you on top of his desk, careful as to not disturb any documents or books, and pulled you in again. this time, there was something different. The kiss was more insistent, more demanding.

"More." He groaned, and slotted his head into the curve of your neck, biting gently, and kissing the same spots.

You had never seen Carlisle like this, never this... out of control.

"So, when is this paper due?" He asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. He walked back to the door of his office, laying his hand on the doorknob. You simply stared at him, still catching your breath. Did he seriously just ask that? Now? "Is it tonight?"

"No?"

"Good." He grinned at you, and turned the lock. "Because it's not getting done."

#twilight x reader #twilight imagine #carlisle cullen x reader #carlisle cullen #carlisle cullen imagine

[bordysbae]

could you do a fic with mark estampa where it's like bestfriends to lovers in denial with a sprinkle of angst? like y/n has had a crush on mark forever but is in heavy denial (prompt #1) and and then after a big fight over something and y/n shouts at him (prompt #53)

“just one date”

mark estapa x f!reader

1. “he’s my bestfriend i don’t like him!”

53 “i like you, dipshit!”

warnings: not proof read, cursing

okay sooo i know you asked for the reader to be the one to confess feelings first, but i could only think of a plot where mark confesses sorry!! and this was kinda rushed but oh well

—

having mark as your best friend was easily one of the best and worst things to happen to you. you met him at the start of middle school and you guys have been attached at the hip ever since. this also means you’ve had to watch him go through multiple girlfriends, flings, and even one night stands. you get this weird feeling of sadness, or pain even, whenever he tells you about a new girl, but you refuse to believe what everyone’s been telling you.. ‘y/n you like him!’ but your reply always stays the same no matter who it is that’s trying to convince you, ‘he’s my bestfriend, i don’t like him!’

deep down, you know you’ve had feelings for him for the longest time, but you’d rather love him quietly rather than risk losing a long friendship. unfortunately, things with mark have been off recently and you don’t understand why. last weekend at a party you met a boy named lucas, and you two hit it off. you spent majority of the night talking to lucas, but when you went to speak with mark he shrugged you off and went to go make out with some other girl. he’s barely been calling or texting you, unless he needs help with his classes. he does this weird thing where whenever he’s with a girl he acts like he doesn’t know you, but when you’re with a guy it’s the end of the world. it makes your feelings for him even more confusing than they already are.

thankfully you’re planning to go out with lucas tonight, hoping this will take your mind off of everything. as you’re finishing your makeup, mark randomly facetimes you. “hey mark!” you exclaim, fixing your hair in the mirror resting behind your phone. “where are you going on a wednesday night that you’re fixing your hair and have a full face of makeup?” he asks, making you a little annoyed. why does he all of sudden care about you and your life after pretty much dodging you all week?

“i’m going to hang out with a boy i met last weekend, why do you care?”

“the hell does that mean? why do i care? you’re my best friend i was just asking,” he questions.

“i don’t know mark, maybe cause you’ve been so dodgy lately? you barely even talk to me,” you shrug, now applying lipgloss to your lips.

“whatever man, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to. who are you going to see?”

“you don’t know him, we’re just hanging out around town don’t worry. and please mark, don’t get all your stupid teammates to fucking spy on me again,” you groan. “i didn’t trust that guy! he was sketchy, can you blame me? i needed to make sure you were safe,” mark shrugs, defending himself.

“so you felt the need to get your friends to spy on my date? look whatever mark, i gotta go. and if i see any of your teammates i’m seriously gonna be pissed,” you say before hanging up, not wanting to deal with marks shit today. you text lucas that you’re on the way to the spot you guys chose to meet at.

as you’re on the way out of the dorms, you hear a voice shouting your name. you spin around, and see mark running up the block.“what the fuck are you doing?” you ask, very annoyed now.

“don’t go on that date y/n, please,” mark says, slightly out of breath.

“oh don’t do that mark. you cant just avoid me all week for no reason, and the second i tell you i have a date with someone, that’s when you care? and now you’re telling me not to go?”

“fucking let me explain! i’ve been dodging you because i saw you guys talking at the party, and it hurt! you think i get with all these random girls for fun? for shits and giggles? i like you, dipshit! i’ve liked you for years! and i’ve been dodging you this week to try and make the both of us happier. cant you see how selfish i am? here i am, asking you to not go on a date, just to make myself happier. y/n all i’m asking is just one date. please just go on one date with me, let me prove that i’m the one you need. not whoever you’re going to see tonight,” he pleads, making your head spin. you barely understood a thing he just said, but those last words were just what you’ve been dying to hear.

“mark, you don’t need to do any of that. i already know what i want, and that’s you,” you say, before pulling him in closer to you. your guys’ lips crash together, and it feels like the world is spinning so fast that it’s not even spinning at all. before you even realize it, you guys are pulling back from the passionate kiss, and resting your foreheads against one another. “i need to text lucas, i have way better plans than him,” you chuckle, pulling out your phone to inform your date that you won’t be able to make it.

“shhh, don’t ruin the moment,” mark says before taking your phone from your hands, making you giggle. suddenly your hands are wrapped around the back of his neck, and his hands are around your waist, pulling you as close as possible.

#mark estapa x reader #mark estapa imagine #mark estapa blurb #mark estapa #hockey blurb #hockey imagine #umich hockey #michigan hockey

[nimata-beroya]

20 Questions For Writers

This was sitting on my notifs for a few days and i finally took the time to do it. Thank my darling @takadasaiko for the tag!! 💕💕

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

I have 88 works in total, 31 of which are for Star Wars.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

574,873 words.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently, I'm only writing for Star Wars. But I used to write for Arrow and Supergirl, and ASoIAF, Dark-Hunters and Chronicles of Nick are in standby. I'm waiting for right motivation to come back to any of the last 3.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

I'm only talking about Star Wars fics here...

Kadala (The Mandalorian) [and 4th place in most kudos of all my works]

Rough Awakening (The Bad Batch) [and 5th place in most kudos of all my works]

Welcome to Yavin IV (Rebels)

An Explosive Situation (Rebels)

Rescue on Ryloth (The Bad Batch)

And the the rest of my all-time fics with most kudos are

Take Your Breath Away (Arrow)

Undisclosed Desires (Arrow)

Made For You (ASoIaF/Game of Thrones)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try my best, but sometimes I forget, and then it's been weeks and months since I got the comments that I'm embarrassed to reply them after so long. Even though, I think it's important that a writer let the reader/commenter that they appreciate it, even if it's with a simple "thank you" or an emoji. I know I'm being a hypocrite here since I fail to do what I preach, but it doesn't make it less true.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I think that would be Drifting, because it's kind of open ending, left to be interpreted, so it could end however the reader wants. Although, I left an author's note at the end saying what's my preferred ending, which always will be inclined to the happy side.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

High Above the Ground because is the happy ending i want for Commander Fox and Riyo Chuchi. They deserve only the best!

8. Do you get hate on your fic?

No, not really. I've gotten only 1 stupid message of someone criticizing a fic, but that was years ago when I still posted on FF dot net. The joke was on the reader because I moderated all the comments there so I just deleted it and nobody saw it but me. Honestly, I just laughed about it cuz their argument was just stupid.

9. Do you write smut?

I do, all kinds -from the most tame thing to the most perverted. But I used to wrote way more in my old fandoms, especially for Arrow. I think for Star Wars I've written just 1 or 2 smutty fics, and tamed at that.

10. Do you write crossovers?

I've tried a couple of occasions but never finished them. I'm not opposed to them obviously, but I do think the combination of fandoms has to be just right to work. Or at least, when it's me doing the writing.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes! Many, many years ago in the first fandom I ever wrote for. It was awful and hated it! You see, this was in the stone age of the internet when fandom specific sites abounded and not everyone had an account on FFnet yet (and Ao3 was not even a dream). The site I published on was split in 2 sections because the ships war in the fandom was bloody and ruthless, so to avoid the slaughter, I kept myself in my preferred side. But one day, a friend who read fic on both sides told me that someone stole my fics. Avoiding to get caught, the person who did it published them under a pen name that was almost exact to mine, she only added a period at the end, which could easily go unnoticed. Oh, and she interchanged characters names so it'd fit the other ship.

At first, my friend thought I had posted them but she knew I'd never write for that ship, like ever. In the end, it turned out that I wasn't the only one who had being plagiarized. Several people ON BOTH SIDES were. Thankfully, the person was caught and banned, but we almost burned the site down because of the whole shitshow.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

By me, yes, several. All into Spanish (my mother tongue). By others, not that I know of.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Yes! A couple of times for different fandoms, and I loved it. I hope I'll do it again. The thing is that you need to find the right partner for it, or it can be a nightmare.

14. What‘s your all-time favourite ship?

I don't appreciate this question, let me tell you. It's hard to choose. But I think I have to go with Olicity. I love them still (even if the show ending ruined it for me). Close second would be Braime (and I'm glad that there's still hope for them on the books, because as usual the show fucked them so but sooooo bad)

And as Star Wars specific, I don't think anyone will be surprised if I say it's Kalluzeb, right 🤣 They're my babies and I adore them!

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Anything for Arrow or Supergirl. I sworn off those fandoms after their respectively awful endings.

No promises, but there's still hope for all if my unfinished works for Star Wars 😅

16. What’s your writing strengths?

Coming up with ideas. So, so many ideas. All the time and I want to write them all.

17. What’s your writing weaknesses?

Finishing writing the above-mentioned ideas. I tend to splay myself too much when I'm writing, and it takes me forever to get to the portion I really want to write (usually the idea that sparked the whole writing process) and I lose steam. That's why I have so many unfinished WIPs. I wish they'd write themselves.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

It's ok if used sparingly. A word here, a phrase over there is fine, but if a wall of dialogue that the reader needs to scroll down to the notes or click on a tooltip to find out the meaning it's the worst!!! A better solution for a writer that really needs/wants to have a whole conversation in another language for plot reasons or whatever, then all they need to do is to say once that the characters are talking in the other language and put the dialogue in the same language they've been writing the rest of the narrative and in italic.

The characters who don't speak the language won't understand what's being said, but the reader will and their reading will be more pleasant and fluid.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

An Argentinian show called Floricienta. A modern retelling of Cinderella.

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

I don't like this question either! All my fics are my babies! How do you want me to choose?!! There are so many I'm proud of. I guess I'll point the most recent one: Feed Me Poison, Fill me till I Drown I really like how this story is coming along. It's not done yet (what else is new? 😅) but what's coming is so so good!

Tagging (no pressure): @renee561 @thecoffeelorian @genericficerblog @airlockfailure @mistr3ssquickly @insertmeaningfulusername @fanfictasia

#20 asks for writers #ask game #the mandalorian #the bad batch #sw rebels #kalluzeb #braime #foxiyo #mare writes star wars #and other things #olicity #long post

[magpiefngrl]

20 Questions for Writers

Thank you for the tag @hoko-onchi-writes! Great way to spend a lazy Sunday morning :)

Username: magpie_fngrl

1. How many works do you have on A03? 54

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 392,045

3. What fandoms do you write for? I've mostly written drarry. I'd started as a pynch writer (TRC) and lately I've written a bunch in other fandoms.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? all drarry:

dirtynumbangelboy

The Miseducation of Draco Malfoy

The Full Monty

Through the Looking Glass and What Draco Found There,

9 ½ Days

5. Do you respond to comments? I do my best. I made a decision back when I posted a lot of stuff and got more comments than I could handle that I would only reply to the comments on the last chapter of a multi-chapter fic. Other than that, I try my best to reply to everyone.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I wrote a Major Character Death fic (The Death You Carry). Can't get angstier than that.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Most of my fics end happy, but now that I think of it they're mostly HFN in romance-genre speak. Happy For Now aka the fic ends with them as a couple, kissing or touching for example, the Ever After is implied but not explicit. Two fics which end with H/D living together, and thus more committed to each other, are Hush, darling and The Boy Who Died. These are also angstier than my other fics, which makes the happy ending sweeter imo.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not hate per se. I've received demanding comments ("Can you write more? Another sex scene? And make it mpreg?") or comments like "I like your story but I can't read on because you have X topping". Not hate. There was a time, though, that I got several comments about how stupid/annoying/an arsehole Harry is, which reflect an attitude I used to see in fandom, where Draco is perfect and Harry is a bumbling fool and the minute he says something sharp to Draco he becomes an arsehole and should be screamed at. Needless to say, I hate this kind of interpretation. I deleted a couple of these comments, I just couldn't have them on my page. It was the reason I de-activated comments on all my fics for some time.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? The sexy kind, I hope LOL

Serious answer: I have written explicit sex scenes, although I tend to be more vague rather than write a play-by-play description of what is happening. I mean, there is some of that, but not as detailed as it can be. I don't know how to explain it better in English, sorry. Anyhow, I love sex scenes, I love reading them, I enjoy the challenge of writing them, and I think what I like best in what I read (and thus I try to emulate) is when a sex scene reveals the emotional state of these two people rather than just say whose dick does what.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I haven't! A couple of years ago I got a few asks about wangxian and drarry meeting up and although it was fun to reply to the asks and imagine how it would take place, I don't think I'll ever write it.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Someone screenshot dnab and posted it on instagram. The whole 40k fic. If there have been others, I don't know.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes, a few.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? I haven't and I'm not sure I could. I don't think my writing process would lead to successful collaborations. If I were to imagine it, the easiest for me would be that each writer has their own POV (I'd write Draco, the other person Harry, for instance) and we'd have a general idea but not a strict outline and we'd write it like a relay race: I'd post something, they'd write the next part, then me etc.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? I tend to move on from fandoms, so it used to be pynch, then drarry, now wangxian. I don't have a lot of time for fandom these days so I'm not as obsessed with a ship as I used to be. I love all my babies equally.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I started a fic with a magical university of sorts, or rather 8th year but they'd be more like uni students than normal school students, and Draco was a Veela whose mate was Astoria. Not sure where it would all go, but well--it won't go anywhere now, because I have so many other WIPs that take precedent.

16. What are your writing strengths? I'm decent at dialogue and I've been told my fics have great atmosphere. Occasionally I write an unusual turn of phrase and people comment on that. My fics are fairly short, but I've been told that they have a lot more story than the reader expected because of the word count, and I think that's because I edit ruthlessly.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Plotting is my main problem. I pants my stories and it takes me forever to figure out what happens next. I also lack confidence and doubt everything while writing, which isn't a writing weakness exactly, but it does affect my writing.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? It's cool. I like it.

19. First fandom you wrote for? The Raven Cycle. I was mad about pynch.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? Currently 9 ½ Days but I have a very, very soft spot for The Boy Who Died.

Tagging: @lettersbyelise @lucifergraced @coriesocks @wolfpants @julcheninred @nerdherderette @lqtraintracks if they wanna!

#tagged #writer questions #thank you hoko!

[fxnfiction]

Buddie Fic Recs! (pt 1)

A few months ago I shared my FirstPrince fic rec list- today it's time for Buddie fics! (part one- 2023 fic edition!)

happy reading!

All My Shattered Oaths by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels | 107k | E

Eddie wants to stay away from his family’s legacy and give his son a normal life. Buck’s desperate to find a way to get over the love he lost.

Fate has other plans for both of them.

-

still by brewrosemilk | 9k | T

For the first time, Buck longs for a bullet wound to treat. Dirt to dig at. A door to break through. Something. There’s nothing.

“Your guess was correct, Diaz,” the bomb technician tells them, as he gestures to the orange circle. “You’re standing on a large sensor plate, wired to a detonator. It’s incredibly important that you don’t move. Don’t shift. When you put your weight down, it was like cocking a gun - you take your weight off, this thing is powerful enough to take the entire house with it."

Inspired by Castle, S05E22: Still

-

come close, let me be home by Daffi_990_ao3 | 4k | Not Rated

“Looking good out there, Buckley” Eddie says as he hands him a beer.

Buck accepts the bottle and takes a seat beside him, popping the cap off to take a drink. “Any chance we’ll see you bust some moves on the dance floor, Diaz?”

“Maybe, if I have the right partner”.

Eddie’s looking right and him and Buck can feel a blush creeping its way across his cheeks. It’s shit like this that has him thinking maybe this thing between them isn’t just one sided. Buck takes another pull of beer, keeping eye contact with Eddie and watching how the other man tracks the bob of his adams apple as he swallows.

“The night is still young and full of possibilities.” Buck replies, and he swears he sees Eddie’s eyes sparkle

OR

Buck and Eddie slow dance at Maddie and Chim’s wedding

-

if i'm honest (it felt like love by sparegarbage | 2k | G

“You have a good partner, Eddie.”

Eddie flushes, because he knows that her partner isn’t the same as work partner. It’s an assumption they had never bothered to correct at Christopher’s school, mostly because it made it easier for people to understand why Buck was around so often, versus best friend or colleague or legal guardian in case I die.

“Yeah,” Eddie responds, his voice thicker than he expected. “He’s the best partner I could ask for.”

Or: Christopher hosts a sleepover, Buck helps, and Eddie realizes he hasn’t been a single dad in years.

-

i’ll bandage up your body and your bones and your bad days too by oklahoma | 6k | T

Eddie’s day is going pretty well until he’s held hostage at gunpoint in the Dollar Store five minutes from his house.

Okay, that’s a lie. Not the being held hostage at gunpoint bit—that’s very much real, if the gun in his face is anything to go by—but the good day part.

Because it’s been a bad day. A shit day. A stupid day. A horrible, no good, very bad, awful, ugly day, and it all started when he woke up this morning.

-

You, all the way down by justhockey | 8k | Not Rated

Suddenly, between one moment and the next, there are hands on him. Hands that Buck would know anywhere; hands that Buck knows maybe even better than he knows his own. The touch is exquisitely gentle - tender to the point of devastation, even though the calloused palms scratch against the soft skin of his cheeks.

It’s Eddie, because of course it is. Because who else would it be.

“Breathe for me,” he says, loud enough that everyone can hear, but meant only for them. Only for Buck.

-

It’s Not the Roaring Dream, It’s the Silent Lightning by giselleslash | 15k | M

Buck gets struck by lightning and wakes up in another life where he has everything he’s ever wanted, but soon that life starts to crumble around him and the painful pull back into reality nearly breaks his heart.

(or the one where Buck is married to Eddie in a coma dream and he doesn’t want to let the dream go.)

-

feels like I'm closer to a revelation every night by wafflesofdoom | 2k | G

She sees me.

Like Eddie didn’t? Like Eddie didn't know Buck better than anyone - better than he knew himself, sometimes? Eddie sees him for exactly who he is – kind, and caring, and wonderful, and fundamentally changed by those three minutes and seventeen seconds he was dead.

or, a look inside of Eddie's head during their conversation at the cemetary.

-

I’m Not Breathing Unless I’m Giving You CPR by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels | 51k | E

Evan Buckley fascinates Eddie. And when Eddie's fascinated by something, he wants to play with it. Especially when the thing in question hates him so much.

But then something odd happens - Buck sees past Eddie's mask for what he really is. And it turns out, Buck's the same way. And he's not something to play with. He's something to keep.

Now the real game begins: the game of being who they are, what they are, together, without their well-meaning friends and family finding out. Because now that they've found each other, they're not going to let anyone separate them. Buck is keeping Eddie, and Eddie is keeping Buck.

By any means necessary.

-

The one where Buck can’t leave by buddiefication | 1k | G

At the end of movie night, Buck usually goes home. This time, he can’t seem to force himself to leave.

OR: Buck and Eddie curl up on the couch together, and somehow don’t know they’re in love.

-

wishing to be the friction by ipretendtobesane | 97k | E

Buck and Eddie are straight best friends who start having no strings attached sex. Eddie has a hard time having sex with someone he doesn't trust, and Buck's tired of hookups after being with Abby. Besides, they're both comfortable with their sexuality, and there's nothing wrong with giving your friend a hand. What's surprising is how long it took them to fall into bed together, really.

What's entirely unsurprising is how quickly strings start getting attached.

or; the straight eddie friends with benefits fic

-

heart in hands, hands in pockets by soyxunxperdedor | 5k | G

In which Eddie tries to move on.

-

not all of us are heroes (not all of us are brave) by withmeornotatall | 6k | G

Buck shakes his head and grimaces apologetically at Marisol. "I'm so sorry for interrupting your night," he tells her. "I'm gonna leave you guys to it, but it was nice to see you again." "Nice to see you too," Marisol replies with a smile. "Sorry again," he addresses this one to Eddie. "I didn't think. I just—" "You thought Chris needed you," Eddie says softly, eyes so warm Buck wants to stay here forever. "Don't apologise for that." "Right, well." Buck takes a deep breath to calm his still pounding heart before saluting at Christopher. "Forever at your service, Superman." He backs out of the kitchen in an exaggerated bow, ducking to hide his smile when Christopher's laugh follows him out.

(OR: buck and natalia break up, eddie decides to introduce his girlfriend to his son, christopher knows way too much, and the 118's wine night has never been quite so eventful)

-

translate the magic (show me) by extasiswings | 8k | E

“I think I might be bad in bed.”

Eddie rolls that thought around in his head, trying to decide the best way to respond, weighing the options of what Buck needs to hear versus how to say it. It’s not a conversation he wants to be having, is part of the problem. Thinking about Buck desperately seeking connection through fleeting sexual encounters with strangers already makes him swallow back a wave of petty jealousy and possessiveness. But there’s an added level of insult to injury to the idea that Buck wasn’t even having good sex. Which maybe explains why despite his initial commitment to delicacy and tact, what comes out of Eddie’s mouth is—

“You probably were. Bad at it.”

Buck’s eyes widen, a strangled noise sounding from his throat.

“Don’t pull any punches,” he shoots back as he hunches in the chair and drains the last dregs of his beer.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

[Or: the one where Buck has a crisis and Eddie teaches him what good sex really is]

-

Enjoy! Find part 2 here x

#911 #911 on abc #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #fic recs #buck x eddie #fanfiction #fxnfiction does fanfiction #i want to make a million of these tbh #pls let me know what you think #letmetellyouaboutmyfeels i am submitting my application for your biggest fan actually #anyway more tomorrow bye!

[winterhue]

Like a moth to a flame

15—⁠☆ "alright? alright, friend"

Pairing: yoon jeonghan x fem reader x joshua hong

Genre: fluff, comedy, angst, banter, college romance

~written part below~

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

You could not believe you agreed to hangout with Jeonghan. Not that you didn't like him but mostly 'cause you are not someone who can befriend people easily. You always had a hard time making friends. Maybe that is why you stopped trying at one point. All the friends that you have now are more than enough for you. You love them all and they are aware of it even though you don't actively express yourself.

You convinced yourself that there was no place for a new friend in your life, that making one new friend at this point would be one friend too many and you'd struggle to maintain all these friendships at once. Maybe this is also why you often appear unapproachable to others. You never really tried to socialize other than your active group of friends. It has always been exhausting for you to try and build new friendships.

You remember Seungkwan once told you, "If you put only a little effort socializing, you'd be pretty popular, you know?"

To which you replied, "Maybe, but I like this better"

And you really did. You liked what you had. That is until you met Yoon Jeonghan. He barged in and knocked all your defenses. And you know that sounds cliche but that's how it is with him. He was is so good at this befriending thing. It was almost as if he charmed you into it. Even though you make sure to maintain your distance with others you somehow find yourself willing to close the distance when it comes to Jeonghan.

You do not want to admit it out loud but you are aware of your active participation when it comes to him. You admit you find it fun challenging him with something or the other. You provoke him to act and he does. He does it so well. Always exceeding your expectations.

You challenged him again yesterday to prove to you that he's not boring. You are already aware that he's not. He's anything but boring as he said earlier but it's amusing to tease him. You have been enjoying it more than you'd like to admit.

And that is how you got yourself to agree to go out with him tonight. You were not sure where you were going. He said he'll pick you up after class. So you patiently wait for your last class to end. When you step out you find him waiting for you.

He immediately waves his hand and flashes the prettiest smile you've ever seen. For a second you stand still, thinking whether he was real. You realise you have never noticed how captivating his smile is until today. It was unreal.

He runs to you with that stupid smile and in that moment there is only one thought in your head: fuck.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Previous • Masterlist • Next

Synopsis: You and Joshua have a complicated relationship. You are each other's home. You tag along as each other's dates to parties, you flirt and banter and never hesitate to show PDA. Everyone's convinced you're both in love but the truth is there's someone else your eyes always search for. It's the man you've never shared a single word with, the man who looks like he came straight out of a movie, the man who can make you lose every rational part of your brain. Yoon Jeonghan, the man you find yourself driven to -like a moth to a flame.

An: updating this fic after forever I missed it so much. I can't believe how busy life has been 😭 please leave comments if you do read it. I need motivation to work on the next parts 🫠

Also, i made a Minghao oneshot 'cause I was in my hao brainrot era. Do check it out ♡

________________________

#kpop smau #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen smau #seventeen social media au #svt imagines #svt smau #seventeen joshua #svt fanfic

[mrcowboydeanwinchester]

☀️ on sunshine ☀️

charliedonna fic - 7250 words - rating: M - read on ao3

art by myself and @limbel - view full piece

“The two biggest rays of sunshine this side of the Atlantic,” Dean grins. “It’s fitting you two are finally meeting.”

Charlie knows all too well what it is to smile for everyone but herself. And after months of running across Europe to retrieve the Book of the Damned, she’s grateful for a change of pace when Dean suggests they spend the weekend with Donna and Jody in Sioux Falls. So now it’s spring, Donna is beautiful, and from the second Charlie lays eyes on her she wants to figure out who really lives behind Donna’s sunny smile.

thanks to @magdaclaire for the beta!

Charlie meets Donna for the first time, and is greeted with the widest smile she’s ever seen.

On the drive up, with ABBA playing in the background because Charlie has Dean wrapped around her little finger, Dean had promised a change of scene in Sioux Falls, a change of pace. Getting out of the tense coffin of the Bunker would be good for both of them: it would let Charlie unwind after being on the run for so long and it would let Dean forget, hopefully, about the mark burning its way through his arm.

Jody has a proper backyard, he’d said. Actual sunlight, and some room to breathe. And Donna is stopping by for the weekend, too, so you’ll get to meet her as well. Donna’s awesome, possibly the smiliest person I’ve ever met. 

He’d looked over at her then, eyes off the road, fondness rolling off him in a way he always hides when the others are around. Well, maybe apart from you. 

So it’s a smile she’s greeted with from Donna now, just as Dean had said. A welcoming, friendly, gorgeous one, as Donna holds open the door and beams hello.

“Hello you two! Jodes, they’re here!” she calls to the hallway behind her, before turning back to them and stepping down to wrap Dean in a warm hug. 

“And you must be Charlie,” she grins, disentangling herself from Dean and turning to where Charlie is standing beside him.

“Hi,” Charlie replies, giving her a little wave. The second she does it it feels stupid but Donna returns it easily, before taking Charlie’s wrist lightly and pushing it aside so she can wrap Charlie into a proper hug, just like she had Dean. 

Charlie barely has time to consider the feeling of the worn pads of Donna’s finger gracing the skin of her arm before she’s wrapped in her embrace wholeheartedly, everything suddenly the orange of Donna’s flannel. 

Donna doesn’t just smile, then, she follows through with affection. How much of Charlie’s body can she feel in the lack of space between them? She probably thinks nothing of it, if she introduces herself through hugs full of so much love. So Charlie should think nothing of it either. 

So Charlie thinks nothing of it as Donna releases her again, and leaves her cooling in the afternoon spring air. 

“Didn’t want to crush you or anythin’,” Donna chuckles, motioning to the wrist she’d moved aside what now feels to Charlie like a lifetime ago. 

“Yeah,” Charlie smiles a little breathlessly back. “I get it. You give really good hugs.”

Donna beams at the words, and as light seems to pour out of her, teeth dappling the rays, Charlie suddenly understands how a smile can be equated to sunshine. 

“Oh, you really think so? Well, I try my best. And you know you’re not too bad yourself - I find folk like you who are all wiry and strong are always the best huggers.”

Charlie is saved from trying to find an acceptable response to that by a fond voice coming from further within the house. 

“Donna, don’t tell me you’re leaving our guests on the doorstep again!” 

A woman steps into the light of the doorway just as Donna turns a bashful look towards Charlie and Dean. 

“Jody,” Dean greets her warmly, taking Jody’s cue and stepping up into the house, dropping his and Charlie’s bags to wrap her in a real bear hug.

Charlie lingers on the step slightly, not sure there’s enough room in the front corridor for her. 

“Come on in, Charlie,” Donna says quietly with a nod of her head beckoning Charlie inwards. She shuffles herself to the side so Charlie can walk properly into the house. The doorway is still small, though, and Dean and Jody are still hugging, so Charlie only really has space to press herself up against Donna to squeeze inside. 

As she passes, Donna’s breath heats the side of her neck, the ghost of the slightly awkward smile Donna lets out condensing itself onto her skin. They were closer when they hugged, setting themselves against each other with a friendly warmth. But this, somehow, feels more intimate. 

Charlie slips past and is finally free within the berth of the corridor, with Dean and Jody moving further up and taking the bags with them. Donna still lingers next to her.

“And this is Charlie,” Dean says, gesturing between Charlie and Jody. “Jody, Charlie; Charlie, Jody.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Jody says, squeezing Charlie’s hand in a hearty handshake. Her demeanor is slightly rougher than Donna’s, maybe, but her eyes are still sparkling with camaraderie. 

“And you,” Charlie replies as she flashes a smile. “Dean says such awesome things about both of you. He could barely speak about anything else the whole drive here.”

The women turn to look at Dean with a fondness he doesn’t appear to really know what to do with. 

“Oh, you know I love you all,” he huffs, eyes cast down to where he’s scuffing his feet along the carpet. He clears his throat and looks up, only to make a beeline to the bags and the stairs. “Where’s the best place to put these?”

“I’ll show you,” Jody says, exasperated smile evident in her voice. She grabs a bag out of Dean’s hand and slings it over her own shoulder before heading up the stairway, closely followed by Dean.

Charlie is left standing next to Donna in the hallway, the space around them suddenly feeling abundant and empty. Empty, in particular, of reasons for them to be standing so close together. 

Out of politeness more than any real want, Charlie reshuffles herself to lean against the wall, facing Donna. It isn’t a long time that passes, then, but enough for Charlie to take Donna in properly. She’s got an orange and pink flannel on - lesbian colors, Charlie’s brain helpfully and needlessly supplies - tucked loosely into sturdy bootleg jeans that cling to her wide thighs. The seams are stitched in yellow and look almost ready to burst. 

The fire that that image starts up in the furnace of Charlie’s belly is fierce and quickly ignored. She lets her gaze glide away like she used to do with the windows of lingerie stores at the mall. 

Donna brushes a stray strand of wavy hair that’s fallen out of her low ponytail behind her ear, and it draws Charlie’s eyes back to her again. So far, Donna hasn’t stopped looking at her. She shoots Charlie a small smile. 

This silence, after the bustle of their arrival, should be awkward. Maybe it is, a little. But there’s something about Donna that puts Charlie so at ease she doesn’t really mind.

“Would you like a drink?” Donna offers with a smile, gesturing towards what must be the kitchen.

“Sure,” Charlie says back, making sure to shoot her a grin. 

Donna pads through to the kitchen with Charlie in tow, flicking on the coffee machine at Charlie’s nod.

“So did you arrive today too?” Charlie asks.

“Oh yeah, drove down this morning. Got here in time to have lunch with Alex before she went out for the weekend with her friends.”

“Alex is Jody’s kid, right?”

Donna smiles. “Yeah, basically. Although she’s feelin’ more and more like mine too, what with me spending so much time down here recently. It’s like I live here as much as Stillwater now.”

Suddenly, the orange and pink flannel doesn’t seem as irrelevant as Charlie first thought. Donna driving for hours to live with Jody and a kid who feels like her own - maybe she’s unavailable in a completely different way than Charlie expected. 

And as much as she loves Dean, it’s definitely the kind of thing he’d neglect to tell her.

“Oh, are you and Jody together?”

Donna turns to her with a chuckle. “Oh, no, nothing like that. That’d be cute, but, uh. Jodes is just teachin’ me how to hunt and we’re good friends, is all.” She pauses, before adding, “not that I have any problems with it. At all.” 

Her last words come out glittering, more meaningful than the rest. Charlie isn’t oblivious, but it’s not enough to go on, either. Not for the first time, Charlie mourns how girls in bars are so much easier to work out than any of her friends.

Again tucking her hair behind her ear with one hand, Donna passes Charlie’s mug to her with the other. It’s handpainted, by the looks of it, with swirls of pink, purple and blue decorating the sides.

Charlie admires it before taking a sip of the coffee. It’s horrific; she doesn’t like coffee. Donna made it for her though, so it tastes a little better than normal. “It’s a pretty mug, did you paint it yourself?”

“I sure did!” Donna says proudly. “Me, Jody and Alex went out for a girls pottery painting night. Had a real nice time painting mine, but Alex’s is by far the best.”

She shows off the mug she’s drinking her own coffee from, which has three recognisable little figures painted around the sides. Jody, Alex and Donna are labeled neatly above each one. 

Charlie whistles. “Wow, she is good. And mini you is so cute!”

Donna smiles, the upward curves of her lips then hidden as she takes a sip of her coffee. Her eyes linger on Charlie until they don’t, until Charlie realizes she should probably glance away too.

“What about you,” Donna asks with a satisfied sigh after her drink of coffee, “you got anyone?” 

Charlie shakes her head. She steadies herself too, for what she’s about to tell Donna, like she always does. It’s still instinctual, universes later. “No, not anymore. I traveled with this girl, Dorothy, for a while, but I had to come home in the end and she wanted to stay out there, so.”

That’s the simplest way of telling it, she’s figured.

“That’s rough, I’m sorry,” Donna says, face falling in sympathy. Charlie reckons it’s the first time she’s seen Donna look anything other than joyful since she arrived. 

The smile flickers back a second later though, and Donna nods encouragingly. “But hey, it just means there’s somebody else right here who’s perfect for you. Everything’ll work out.”

There’s an assurance in her words that unearths Charlie a little. She is suddenly aware that with Donna, she doesn’t really know where she stands. But Donna is looking at her like she really is hopeful for Charlie. In the breezy light of the kitchen, maybe Charlie can invest in a little blind optimism too.

“You really believe that?” she asks, quirking an eyebrow.

Donna shrugs. “I have to.”

There’s something more to Donna, Charlie estimates, with the fixed determination in her eyes and the supposed levity of her smile. She’s holding on.

The heavy footsteps of Dean and Jody plodding down the stairs and across to the kitchen break the hush of their conversation and the intensity of their gazes. Donna jumps into cheery action, offering coffee to Dean and Jody. 

“You two getting along?” Dean asks, happily accepting the mug Donna passes to him. 

Donna smiles at Charlie. “Oh, you betcha! She’s a real sweetie.”

A heat spreads across Charlie’s cheeks, one she knows will be fluorescent against the weedy paleness of her skin. Damn ginger genes. She takes another sip from her coffee, hoping to hide her flush with her mug. She glances over to Donna as she does so though, and shoots her the warmest look she can muster in exchange.

“The two biggest rays of sunshine this side of the Atlantic,” Dean grins, oblivious to it all. “It’s fitting you two are finally meeting.”

“Keeping two old grumps like us smiling is quite the feat, but you two sure do it,” Jody heartily concurs, raising her mug slightly as if in toast.

Donna ducks her head and chinks her mug with Jody’s, as Charlie chuckles, reaching up to mess with Dean’s hair. “Well, someone has to.”

“And you do it brilliantly,” Dean says softly, the tenderness of his words completely undermined by his forceful batting away of Charlie’s hand. 

“We left your bag on yours and Dean’s bed by the way, Charlie,” Jody says. “You’re in Alex’s room and she has a double, but there’s no room for a mattress on the floor.” She gives her an apologetic grimace. “I hope that’s alright.”

“You’re welcome to stay in my room if you’d rather,” Donna chimes in, looking towards Charlie. “It’s just one bed still, but it’s a little bigger.”

It’s a kindness, another obvious example of the way kinship just seems to stream out from Donna and light the surroundings. But it’s also a dangerous game: sharing a bed, sleeping with her. One that never ends well, and that she’ll fall for all too quickly. 

The implications of Donna’s suggestion ricochet around Charlie’s head. Dean, on the other hand, is safe and easy, and doesn’t send Charlie reeling when he does something as simple as hold the door open for her.

“Thanks, but I’m sure me and Dean’ll be okay,” she smiles instead. 

Donna’s eyes darken for a second, but her kindness doesn’t. “No worries! If he starts getting smelly though, you’re always welcome.”

“Old and smelly,” Dean laments. “Is this all I am to you now?”

“Always,” the three women laugh fondly. Dean just sighs and shakes his head. 

Jody collects the now empty mugs of coffee from everyone’s hands and pushes them towards the sink, before gesturing out the window. 

“I’ve got some new fruit trees growing in the backyard if you guys wanted to take a look before it starts getting dark?” she asks, much to Dean’s immediate joy.

“Sure!” Charlie agrees, eager just to see something green and alive after the gray and gray and gray of the bunker. 

She’d had houseplants in her old apartment, before she had to move. And then move again. And then run across Europe. She misses them now, and she’d tried to petition Dean to get some for the bunker once, before he pointed out there was no sunlight down there. Nothing can live without sunshine, after all.

Sometimes, Charlie thinks that’s why they keep her around. 

“Just make sure to say nice things,” Donna chuckles, “Jody’s real protective over those trees of hers.”

Charlie hesitates in her movement towards the door. “You’re not coming?”

Donna shakes her head with a laugh and gravitates towards the sink. “I’ve had the tour already, many times. I’ll stay and clean up.”

She takes the cuffs of her flannel, and unbuttons and rolls the sleeves up in one swift motion, revealing the thickness of her lower arms. The light brown hair which sweeps up them is just visible in the light.

Charlie feels a little dizzy with it.

“As Donna keeps telling me, if you’ve seen my plum trees once, you’ve seen them a thousand times,” Jody says, her chuckle echoing Donna’s. 

No one else seems to care about Donna’s forearms, or the way Donna’s fingers deftly tuck the cuffs of her sleeves up in the fold of fabric around her elbow. 

“Good job we’re seeing them for the first time then,” Dean grins placidly as he heads out the door. 

Charlie makes a beeline to follow before she embarrasses herself when Donna calls out behind her. 

It’s just them in the kitchen. Unlike in the corridor, with its emptiness, the kitchen feels warm and full. And Donna feels too far away. 

“Charlie?” she says, and Charlie whips around to face her.

“Yeah?”

Donna’s large hands clutch the mug she’d given Charlie earlier, the one painted in swirls of pink, purple and blue, as she runs the tap over the sink. Her knuckles are a little bruised.

So are Charlie’s, lately.

“I know you’ve been all over, but now… I think you’re right where you need to be.”

She’s earnest and soft about it, in a way that sends shivers across the hairs on the back of Charlie’s neck. Charlie finds a smile working its way onto her face. She nods, something like gratitude and something like agreement, the words raising a blush on her cheeks. 

Donna smiles again, then switches her attention back to the bubbling water and coffee stained mugs.

Just as Charlie turns away to join the others outside, she catches Donna’s reflection in the glass of the window above the sink. If it were a horror movie, this image would be haunting, different as it is from what Charlie’s come to expect from the other woman. Turns out in real life it’s just sad.

When she thinks no one can see her, Donna’s smile drops. 

**

The evening falls, and it falls visibly, which Charlie realizes is something she is no longer used to. 

In the bunker, the lights are artificial and bright and decidedly on , until she decides to turn them off. They never change, never waver, never indicate the time of day or if the moon is out. The library’s ambient lamps are the closest they get to evening.

And she hasn't realized how stark a difference it is until she spends dinner half listening to the conversation and half watching the sunset through the mirror facing her opposite the window. It isn’t a special sunset: the clouds aren’t spun purple and the sky is never tinged that tender pink. But still, it’s the first sunset she’s seen in two weeks, maybe. 

And she watches the light melt across Donna’s face the whole time. 

It’s not long after the sun has sunk completely below the horizon that the four of them turn in for the night, with three of them having traveled for hours earlier and Jody confessing she considers any night she gets to sleep before 11 o’clock a huge success. 

Dean teases her for it, but Charlie can tell he’s really all too eager to follow suit. The second he gets the chance, he pulls his hearing aids out from his ears with a sigh of relief and flicks them off, dumping them on the bedside table of Alex’s room where they’re sleeping.

“You could just not wear them around Jody and Donna you know, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind,” Charlie points out to him as he rubs at the back of his ears with a pout. 

Dean waves her off. “I just haven’t worn them for that long in a few weeks, it’s fine. Besides, I don’t wanna make things hard.”

“You don’t make things hard, it just makes things different,” Charlie says, stepping right in front of him to make sure he can understand her. “No one minds switching a few things up to make it easier for you.”

She tells him this because she believes it wholeheartedly, and it’s true. It’s times like these, though, that she wishes she believed the same for herself. It’s not like she doesn’t think that Dean and Sam don’t want her around, or wouldn’t drop everything to help her out, because they’d proved that theory wrong a long, long time ago. It’s just the instinctual little things to make herself smaller, more easily digestible, that are harder to shake. 

The princess only ever gets saved if she smiles enough, right?

Charlie smiles at Dean, determined to make him understand that she cares, and he scrubs the backs of his ears again, but more out of bashfulness than ache this time. 

“Alright, alright. Stop being good to me, Bradbury, I don’t know what to do with it.”

“You could get changed and brush your teeth,” Charlie says hopefully. “I want to go to bed.”

Dean rolls his eyes but ambles off to the bathroom, and Charlie takes the time to get changed herself. She throws on her pajamas and then stands in the mirror for a moment, lifting her t-shirt to see her stomach, where the bullet wound is meant to be. 

Castiel healed it weeks ago now, but it’s still strange. The pain of it plays so frequently in her mind; she wakes up remembering it and the nightmare tears through her like the bullet did. In a way, how angels can heal a wound so completely isn’t all kindness. There’s no proof, then, that it still hurts inside. 

Dean wanders back into the room in his pajamas and with minty fresh breath. It’s a Led Zeppelin long sleeve shirt he’s wearing, one Charlie had picked out for him last time they swung by a Goodwill. He barely ever wears t-shirts now, and he rolls his shirt sleeves down too, especially around Charlie. Charlie pretends she doesn’t notice.

“Strange, isn’t it? Took me years to get used to it,” Dean says sympathetically at where Charlie’s hand still ghosts her stomach. He can be quick when he wants to be. 

“It’s odd,” Charlie says. “Like the wound was never there. I know it was, but only I know it was.” 

“Messes with your head, having nothing to show for the pain,” Dean nods perceptively. He perches on the bed, looking up at Charlie with his big labrador eyes. “But it’s still a good thing, though. That you don’t feel pain.” 

Charlie is all too aware of the intricacies of the singular and plural you in the English language, but she swears that in that moment, Dean means it for her specifically. 

“Yeah,” she replies. She wonders if not feeling the pain is the same as not feeling anything.

The conversation dips as they both settle under the duvet, taking a moment to get comfortable. Dean switches off the big light.  

“So,” he eventually murmurs. “Do you like them?”

The words feel loud in the quietness of the night, and Donna and Jody are only walls away. But Dean can't really hear himself if he whispers, and he definitely can't hear Charlie if she does, so when she speaks she murmurs too, facing Dean in the bed so he can read her lips in the lamplight.

“Of course I do,” she says. “I never expected not to.”

“You and Donna seem to get along well,” he smiles, and Charlie isn’t sure if there’s more meaning she should be reading into that than she is. 

She takes up the edge of the duvet in her hands and twists it a little, mostly for something to do. 

“She’s really nice, yeah,” she says carefully. She looks up at Dean then, and feels the carefulness drop away in the warmth of a shared bed with her best friend. “She’s really pretty, too. How did you forget to mention she’s so pretty?”

Dean chuckles. “I thought you would figure it out for yourself, it’s not hard to see.”

“No,” Charlie says, the word coming out as a deep sigh in a way she hadn’t quite intended. “It’s not.”

Dean brings his hand up to near hers on the edge of the duvet, and takes up the little creases she’s been folding into it and squeezes them like an accordion. Charlie can just make out the way his Adam's apple bobs, just the way it always does when he wants to say something but is struggling to.

She waits him out. You’ve got to be patient, to hear Dean Winchester.

“I’m sorry about the way things have been going lately, Charlie. You know that, right?”

He’s staring at the patterns they’re both tucking into the blanket. This was not the way she thought the conversation was about to go.

“Yeah, Dean, of course.”

“What with Dorothy, and the mark, and you going on the run… it’s nothing like what you should be doing.”

He’s refusing to meet her eyes, but in the gold of the lamplight they’re turning an earnest hazel.

“I don’t blame you, Dean, if that’s what this is.” She pauses for a second, the question fizzing on her lips before she gets it out. “Is that what all this is?”

His gaze snaps back up to meet hers, surprised. “No, no. I wanted you to meet Donna and Jody, spend some time together. I thought it would be nice for you.”

“And Donna’s really lovely, and Jody’s kind. And I got to play ABBA all the way here. It’s good, Dean.”

He sighs, obviously unsatisfied with her answer; rolls away slightly to look restlessly towards the ceiling. His hands stay by hers on the duvet, tapping against the folds.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, loud enough for him to hear her say something, if not make out the words. 

He gestures to show he didn’t understand her, but shows no sign of moving to face her. She asks him again, louder this time. Starts tapping it onto his wrist in morse code too, but he cuts her off before she can finish by turning back towards her with an intensity he didn’t have before.

“I want you to be happy, Charlie.”

Charlie stills next to him, the duvet she'd been fiddling with on the bed laying flat between her fingers. 

She does what she always does. She meets Dean’s eyes and smiles. 

“Who says I’m not?”

**

For the first time in months, Charlie wakes up slowly and freely, not to the scream of the alarm but instead to the morning light glowing in warmly from behind the curtains. She didn’t quite close them fully last night, so a slither of clear sunlight arches its way across the room. As she stirs, breathing in a deep, relieving breath, she follows its trail along the walls and ceiling. Little rainbows spiral out from it where it hits the mirror.

She looks beside her, and Dean is still slumbering away. His breaths are deep and even. Although the mark is still visible from underneath his rucked shirted sleeve, for the moment he seems peaceful. It’s nice, that Dean’s face isn’t creased in repressed ire, that Charlie can see all this without even having to flick on a light: this morning, this is just how the world is.

No more bunker, no more shitty motels , Charlie thinks as she stretches luxuriously out under the clean cotton sheets which Jody’s own hands undoubtedly strung up on the washing line. I should live somewhere else. After all this, I’m gonna live somewhere else.

When she does check the time, it reads a comfortable half past eight. Dean won’t be up for a few hours if he can help it - although maybe he’ll be stirred early like her by the light of a genuine sunrise. He must’ve seen even less of them than she has in recent years. Maybe, if he got out of that damn hole in the ground, he would photosynthesize a little and see that the sun was already out there.

As she wiggles gently out of bed, careful not to disturb Dean with her movements, Charlie lets her mind stray to what Donna’s house might be like. Does her bedroom face east and get the sun in the mornings? Is it cluttered and cozy with trinkets and souvenirs, or swept clean and neat? Probably a mix of the two, Charlie decides. Homey, while still being organized, with everything important kept within reach.

It’s as she ponders this that she pads airily down the stairs. In the kitchen, with the large window opening out upon the vivid spring planes of the fruit trees in the backyard, Charlie helps herself to a breakfast of berries and yogurt that Jody recommended last night. It’s all green outside, dewy with the morning. The sour bite of the berries tickles her tongue.

Everything is growing here. Everything is alive.

Charlie is so involved in her cloudless thoughts as she strolls back up the stairs to the hallway, that she doesn’t quite notice Donna stepping out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around her until her own forearms make contact with Donna’s still lightly damp skin. 

“Oh, sorry-!”

“No worries,” Donna grins with a smile, not bothering to move too far away. She’s tossed her hair over her shoulder and now the ends, darkened with water, are creating small wet patches on the side of Charlie’s pajama sleeve. 

This morning, Charlie can’t find it in her to mind. 

Donna’s had her hair up in a sensible low ponytail the entire time Charlie’s seen her so far. But after the wet of the shower, it’s curling around her face and down her back in tight ringlets. Somehow they bounce slightly as Donna moves her head, even under the weight of the water. 

Charlie has spent years learning how to keep her friendships with women exactly that - friendships. She is an expert in all things platonic, so she doesn’t even think about how little the towel is really covering Donna’s freshly showered, lavender smelling skin. She keeps her eyes fixed on Donna’s face, on the water-shining rosiness of her cheeks and the single strands of hair that fall in lazily gorgeous curls in front of her eyes.

Charlie swallows down a swallow.

“Your hair is curly? I’ve only ever seen it straight.” 

Donna nods, her face falling from her always friendly smile to one of frustration. “Oh, you betcha. Takes me hours to straighten the damn stuff.”

“But it looks so pretty curly,” Charlie says, maybe a little softer than she intended in an attempt to hide the pout she knows is otherwise audible in her voice.

But Donna is pretty, that’s plain as day, and has been since Charlie slipped closely past her through the door yesterday. And it’s not just the natural curls of her hair that bring this further into the light; with all the layers of flannel removed, all the shields down, the round curves of Donna’s figure are even more evident. 

Charlie forces her gaze back to the (admittedly relative) safety of Donna’s smile. Rather than the wide, sunshiney thing she’d been greeted with so far, it’s morphed into something softer. A little surprised.

“Oh, I dunno-”

“No, it looks real pretty. You should wear it down curly, it suits you.”

Charlie finds herself reaching out to thread a tangle of Donna’s hair through her fingers and brush it neat before she can catch the action and stop it. Donna’s hair is silky, freshly conditioned, and it slips easily between her fingers. 

Donna’s eye catches hers and it’s only then she pulls her hand away, jerkily. 

“Sorry, that was weird,” she starts, feeling the heat flood to her face. 

Donna shakes her head slightly, the gentle radiance of her smile still lingering. “No, it’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“Your hair, it’s soft,” Charlie manages. The words scratch a little as they make their way up her throat. She shouldn’t be doing this.

“Thanks.”

Donna reaches out, now, twisting the longer front strands of Charlie’s hair around her own finger. Yesterday’s flat-iron curls give in to her movement as her hand brushes just slightly against Charlie’s cheek, and the quiet damp of her skin sends a shiver, barely a shiver, through Charlie. 

Her hair’s a little greasy, Charlie knows, she needs to shower. But Donna’s lips quirk up as she strokes her thumb against it. “Yours is soft too.”

“Thanks,” Charlie whispers, just about. 

Donna pulls her hand back away and stray hairs follow the action, ginger turning gold in the morning light chasing after the loss of contact. Some wild part of Charlie runs to strings of spit, her lips pulling away from Donna’s and their connection still not leaving her completely. 

Oh, Bradbury, this cannot be happening right now. 

She sways back, falling out of Donna’s space, away from the lavender scent and the ever-drying blonde curls and the warm blush blossoming on the tops of Donna’s shoulders above her towel. 

“I just always wanted curly hair as a kid, you know. And all my favorite characters had curly hair, I was always kinda jealous of people who had it. People say all kinda things about ginger hair but I’ve just always loved curly.” Charlie gets the distinct sense she’s rambling, and perhaps even more hysterically than normal. 

“Yeah, well tell all that to my ex-husband,” Donna laughs almost sourly, wrapping the towel a little tighter around her again as she starts towards the guest bedroom that seems to be decidedly hers. “Come sit with me as I get ready, I don’t mind,” she calls back to Charlie.

Charlie doesn’t bluescreen often, but she’s pretty sure she hears the dull thunk of the error sound at that comment. Donna has an ex-husband, and she knows Charlie’s a lesbian, and Charlie just ran her hand through her hair, and Donna’s inviting her to sit in her room as she gets dressed as casually as gals who actually are pals.

“You sure?” she asks, wandering to the door. She’s giving Donna an out, if she wants one. Don’t they all normally want one?

“Of course, hon!” 

So Charlie lets herself walk through the door and flop down onto the bed, grabbing a cushion to fiddle with, something to keep her eyes busy as well as her hands. Donna shrugs a bathrobe on over her towel and Charlie knows she doesn’t really need to look away, but she does anyway. The cushion has little purple flowers embroidered all over.

“I can’t imagine not liking your curly hair,” Charlie says, mostly as a means to get the conversation going again, but also decidedly to pick at the thread she thinks might unravel a little more of Donna’s mask. The darkening of her face in the kitchen window has a cause, and whatever the cause is, Charlie wants to hunt it down and eclipse it. It’s instinct.

“Oh, Doug liked me best however I wasn’t,” Donna chuckles disparagingly, as she slides her towel off underneath her robe and lays it on the bed next to Charlie.

The towel is damp, still. Charlie can feel its coolness next to her. Damp with the water that once sat on Donna’s skin, smelling still of the lotion Donna rubbed between her hands before smoothing it over her arms, down her stomach, the wavy cellulite of her thighs.

Charlie wants to reach out and touch it. Charlie wants an excuse to use that towel after her own shower, like kissing through a shared bottle of beer.

“I wore my hair curly, he liked it straight. I put on a full face of makeup, he liked me natural. I gained a few pounds, he told me…” Donna trails off, the reverie clouding her face completely. 

Anger flushes hot through Charlie, a burning passion building on her already quickening heartbeat. “He was wrong, you know,” she says. 

Donna turns, looking surprised at the change in Charlie’s voice. She smiles at the intensity of it. “You’re kind, Charlie. A lot of people say that, but I can never seem to shake the feeling he’s right.”

“I’m not being kind, Donna, not right now. I’m telling you the truth,” Charlie insists. She takes Donna’s hand and pulls her down to sit on the bed next to her. “You’re beautiful.”

It’s only as she says those words that she realizes the potency of them, and how Donna’s hand is now in hers, and how she’s only wearing a bathrobe. Charlie wants to recoil, suddenly, and take it all back. But that would be a lie. And Donna’s been told too many of those already.

The other woman’s eyes are wide as she looks at her. Full of so much, and so much of that incredulous doubt.

Charlie steels herself and raises her hand and brushes it through Donna’s hair again. “I say a lot, but I mean this. Believe me.”

“I would like to,” Donna says, decidedly lightly for a room full of gravity. “Of course I want to. But I can’t.” She shakes her head slightly, like she wants to clear it. When she looks back up at Charlie, her eyelashes are dewy with tears. Her throat bobs beneath her smile.

Charlie caves in, her anger turning to a porous sadness inside. “But it’s over, Donna. He’s over.”

Donna draws in a teary breath. “Maybe people, relationships, can be over. I don’t think words ever are.” She shoots Charlie a grin; it’s a false, self-deprecating thing. 

“You’re still smiling,” Charlie says softly. She runs her thumb over Donna’s, smoothing over the skin like it will smooth over the tired corner’s of Donna’s lips. “Honey, you don’t have to keep smiling.”

Donna wavers in front of her, the expressions on her face flickering like heat on the horizon. Charlie can’t quite make her out, anymore, underneath it, but at the same time Donna feels more touchable than she ever has before. 

“Don’t I?”

Charlie shakes her head. “No, love, you don’t.”

Like rain spilling down and pouring after the bitterest summer drought, Donna cracks. Her face falls completely, her lips pulled downwards in pure, luxurious upset. The tears that had been locked into place around her eyes pool forward and fall. The rosy apples of her cheeks relax too, the smile lines shifting into creases of sadness. 

The mask cascades down around them both, and Charlie sits and holds Donna’s hands, and the absence of her smile feels like being let in on something special and sweet, something secret.

“Thank you,” Charlie whispers.

Donna looks up at her through watery eyes; the light of the morning hits them and the sheen of her tears is clear as glass. 

“What for?” Donna asks, voice gooey and lips still trembling.

“For letting it be me you let the smile fall for.”

Donna heaves in a shuddering breath at that, like she’s scared that what Charlie said just made it real. “It’s not usually anyone, I’m not usually like this,” she sniffs. She glances back up again, and then seems to catch something in Charlie’s eyes, not averting her gaze. “You’re not usually like this either though, are you?”

It goes against every instinct for Charlie not to flash a grin, feels like short circuiting not to come back with a witty remark. But she shakes it off, letting it fall away like Donna did. 

“No,” she admits. “I smile so much my cheeks ache, most days. But without it, it feels like - what do I do?”

Donna nods, taking Charlie’s hands in hers now. Charlie isn’t sure she knows she’s doing it, and she’s not sure who she’s doing it for, but it’s spreading warmth up her arm. “Gives you someone to be, a way to hold everything together.”

Those words tilt Charlie’s world slightly to the left before righting it completely again, like she can feel the gears of her mind clinking right back into place and running smoothly.

“You put it into words,” she breathes.

Donna strokes a thumb across the aching inside of Charlie’s palm. It’s a movement intended to soothe, but it just draws Charlie closer in. With every circle Donna graces against the sensitive skin of Charlie’s heart line her gravity is stronger, more magnetizing. She’s no longer sure where the comfort they’re sharing in each other ends and the sparking press of her fingertips tapping along Donna’s thumb begins. Every flare of contact begs another. Now, everything about Donna is comforting - but nothing about the way she makes Charlie feel is safe. 

Donna worries at her plush lips. They’re a little chapped, and downturned too, finally relaxed. When she wets them with her tongue and leaves them shining and rosy in the morning light Charlie feels the inner workings of herself break and give way.

Donna speaks and her voice is low. “Sometimes it just feels like… I’ve just got to be sunshine.”

And that’s what they are for everybody else at the end of the day, aren’t they? But this morning, by god can that be broken with the dawn.

“I don’t want sunshine,” Charlie whispers. 

“Really?” Donna asks, like she still doesn’t quite believe her. Like she’s sitting here, inches from Charlie’s mouth, realizing she doesn’t have to be who she thought she had to. Charlie wants her to realize it all. Charlie wants Donna to realize her .

“There’s a sun already. Can you see it, through the curtains?” she breathes. “Can you feel it on your back?” 

Charlie lets her hands roam to the tie of Donna’s robe. No inhibitions, no pretenses, she pulls the knot away. Donna leans into her touch, into the cool freedom of the unbroken air. Her skin is still slightly damp; Charlie can feel it all along the insides of her wrists as she takes the edges of the robe from Donna’s shoulders and pulls it tenderly down her soft arms, until it falls away and gives in completely. 

The sunlight pours through the windows onto the fullness of Donna’s back, descending upon the upper curves of her arms. The robe lays around her on the bed. Kneeling naked in the fresh white of the robe upon the flat of the sheets, it looks like Donna has parted the sea. 

Or maybe it looks like wings, spread out across the ground. Like Icarus, and Donna is still glowing, silhouetted in the warm light. Never has flying too close to the sun prompted such sweet a fall.

Charlie feels Donna inhale, feels the intake of breath and expansion of Donna’s stomach against hers with it. 

“I can feel it,” Donna murmurs. 

Her breath is hot and quivering against Charlie’s cheek. 

“I can feel everything.”

With that it’s like Donna’s bashfulness evaporates under the warmth of the sun, and she surges forwards with her hands under Charlie’s t-shirt. Charlie lifts her arms as soon as she catches on, feeling the light hit her skin as she raises them upwards past the shadows. Donna coaxes her t-shirt off of her, over her head, and for the split second Charlie can’t see Donna it’s like being taken out of orbit, out of gravity. When she resurfaces Donna’s eyes are the first thing she sees; the warmth on her arms is the first thing she feels. 

She drops her arms in all their sunlight, runs her hands through Donna’s hair instead. Clutches her close, until Donna becomes more than silhouette and more than a ray of light and is a body, soft and damp and lavender in her arms. Donna is kneeling but Charlie is reverent. She wants Donna’s lips, she wants to taste the lavender and saltwater, she wants to leave that string of spit hanging between them, but she takes it slow. 

She sighs forward, pressing kisses along Donna’s rounded collarbone. Donna melts into her, her hands roaming across Charlie’s back, grazing her lips along Charlie’s bony shoulder. The pads of Donna’s fingers are tracing along her spine. Charlie pulls herself closer, every fuse within her shorting.

“Don’t want sunshine,” Charlie mumbles again, into the soft slope of Donna’s neck. “I want you. Just you.”

Donna breathes, one hand still on her back but the other cupping her cheek upwards. “You have me.”

Their eyes meet in startling clarity, the world dipped in salted caramel all apart from them, together, suspended. Charlie has some of Donna’s hair in her mouth.

And then they’re kissing and Donna’s knee is slotting between Charlie’s legs and her lips are touching hers, and she doesn’t just taste of lavender and saltwater she tastes of something true and real and god, Charlie knows . Charlie knows it all, she knows what Donna means. She can feel everything. 

Beneath the smiles, naked and silhouetted and tender, she can feel everything.

#IT'S HERE IT'S FINALLY HERE #AFTER 6 WHOLE MONTHS #finally the fic is out alongside the art....... they literally go together that is how old this fic is #so so so proud of this #thanks to mer for betaing again!!!!!! #charlie bradbury #donna hanscum #charliedonna #sapphicnatural #spn fic #femslash #hohnatural #ola writes

[blouisparadise]

Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of October. We hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) High On Tour | Explicit | 2284 words

Daddy gets high, but Daddy takes care of business... if that business was getting fucked in his dressing room after a concert.

2) Fifties Baby Doll Dress For My “I Do” | Explicit | 4708 words

"Are we celebrating something?" the man asked coldly, as the music closed and Louis turned off the sound. He walked with nonchalant steps closer to his spouse, discarded what was left of his own cigarette in the ashtray and sat down on the sofa facing her.

"I can't remember, are we?" her false tone of disagreement was obvious. That stupid grin on her reddened lips was enough to drive anyone off their feet.

3) Let Me Love You | Explicit | 5035 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Louis's not expecting to run into his first ever crush while picking up his daughter from school, but fate clearly has other plans. His mum was right.

Harry would always be in his life.

4) Comfort Is Found When I’m the Only Thought On Your Mind | Mature | 5087 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Prompt 396: Established relationship - very domestic PWP. Louis complains about being out of his favorite moisturizer, and Harry suggests giving him a facial.

5) Nobody Had To Know | Explicit | 5146 words

Louis has a secret kink. He never thought his roommate and best friend, Harry, would have it too.

6) I Wanna Be Yours | Explicit | 5838 words

Just like how Cady Heron from mean girls said Halloween is the one night a year when girls can dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it, not like anyone ever does to Louis because well Louis is a sweetheart and a boy, the guy with the softest voice and eyes bluer than the oceans. They were all Cara's words not his. 

7) I’m Fine | Mature | 6420 words

"Harry and Louis pretend that the intimacy they shared the night before never happened, until Louis has to go get his cell phone from his apartment.

Or where Louis escapes as fast as he can from the apartment, he spent the night in and is forced to return after forgetting his phone."

8) Tides Thrash Inside | Explicit | 8510 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

"How could I call you when I needed you as far as possible to sever our spatial bond?”

9) Addressed To The Fire | Explicit | 9085 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

“Would you have come,” Harry says after a few seconds, voice levelled. A part of Louis wants him to snap — wants him to be the first one to raise his voice, because if there’s one thing he will never, ever do, is give anyone the satisfaction of saying he’s the one that starts the fights, “if I had invited you?”

No, Louis’ mind replies immediately, I wouldn’t have.

10) Be The Artist To My Muse | Explicit | 9665 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

“I think I’m in love,” Harry says, flopping back to lay on the bench again. Nick sighs and pats Harry on the head.

“There, there. You’ll forget him in a day or so.”

11) Take It Day By Day | Mature | 10167 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

“Enemies” to Lovers AU where Harry and Louis secretly date and Harry just wants to smell like his baby.

12) The One Who Stays And The One Leaving You  | Mature | 10315 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Fuck.

He had just slept with none other than Harry Styles.

13) Everyone’s Entitled To One Good Scare | Explicit | 10278 words

Louis has suspected his husband isn't what he says and is determined to be right this Halloween. Inspired by this prompt.            

14) I Beg You To Stop Running | Mature | 10346 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

“Congrats. You’re marrying an amazing human being.” Harry found himself saying before thinking about it.

“Oh, I know, he’s truly the love of my life.”

Harry didn’t expect it to hurt that much. Now he realises he had everything with Louis. It was amazing, maybe not perfect but it was more than enough. Louis is the love of his life not this redhead man’s.

15) Losing That Reactive Spark | Explicit | 11599 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

“You didn’t shock me,” the O says, yanking at Harry’s shirt. Harry’s eyebrows furrow, looking down at him. He could probably shake him off if he wanted to, wouldn’t even hurt him. Harry doesn’t. “What’s your name? How come you didn’t shock me?”

“Um,” Harry says. “What?”

The O sways closer, pushing himself up onto his toes as he peers at Harry’s face. Harry tries not to breathe in too deeply, too obviously. The last thing he needs is for someone to catch him obviously scenting an O that doesn’t belong with him in public. No matter how unhinged that particular O might be. That’s just asking for trouble.

“Is it broken?” the O asks, shaking at Harry’s shirt. Harry sways, more confused than ever. The bell on the door dings, and on autopilot Harry shifts them out of the way, allowing the person to pass. His umbrella dangles uselessly from his hand, not doing anything to keep them dry.

“Is what broken?” Harry asks.

“It’s not broken,” the O says to himself, fast. He shakes his head again, bringing both hands up to his face to push his wet hair back. “Just yesterday – ”

He stops, staring at Harry again. It’s a suspicious stare. Harry’s mildly offended by it.

16) Reckless Behaviour | Not Rated | 13565 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Harry is a retired football player looking for a new opportunity. Louis is the image consultant hired to help him find it.

17) As You Stay In A Daydream | Mature | 14689 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

"Come on I'll show you something!" Louis said eagerly dragging him away towards what looks like a cabin, louis' eyes shone as he showed him it. His loved for this place was evident on his face as he told him things he did with it, his sadness was evident when he told him that he would go here to escape his house that never felt like home. He told him who built the small little cabin and he had shyly showed harry his artworks which amazes him as he never knew louis was making art. Harry felt as if his heart could burst with so much love when louis showed him a portrait drawing of him. Intricate details of him was drawn down on to the paper, the shading was right as the light hit him at the side of his face when he was looking out of the window after being bored listening to Mr. Smith's lecture. He didn't know louis had noticed him with so much beauty he had captured it and decided to lay him on a piece of paper that had know meant so much to him.

18) And If Ever I Can Rescue You | Mature | 14725 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Louis waited until he was on top of the criminals before emitting his light, announcing his presence as the alley lit up. “Didn’t I put you two away last week?”

All three men in the alley froze as they stared at Louis. The two crooks Louis recognized as a pair of brothers hell bent on committing petty crimes no matter how many times they got locked up for doing so. But the civilian — shit, he was the guy Louis had been watching earlier from the rooftop, the one with the long hair and the skinny jeans and—.”

“Well, if it isn’t London’s Little Ray of Sunshine,” the thug with the wallet sneered, pulling Louis’ focus back.

19) How You Sleep At Night | Mature | 15568 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

"-And...this is Louis."

And just that.

‘This is Louis.’

Louis feels like throwing up out of nowhere. So, that’s it then? Is he just a ‘Louis’ to him now?

20) Hungry Heart | Explicit | 16100 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

"So you're using me and my kitchen for a bigger paycheck?" Harry asks. "What do I get out of it?"

"What do you-" Louis parrots in disbelief. "I get a job that doesn't make me work ten hour shifts just to barely pay my rent while you get three meals a day cooked for you."

"So, what, you're like some glorified housewife?"

Housewife, personal chef, Louis doesn't care. Contract's signed and done; T's crossed and I's dotted. Louis will wear an apron and twirl his hair all pretty if that's what he wants. Even if the job feels more like some drawn out jail sentence, Louis hopes this isn't going to be a long summer.

21) A Little Bad Luck | Explicit | 17237 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

"What the fuck do you mean, they quit?" Louis asks.

This man—demon, whatever—looks over at Louis with a withering glance before tossing the apple he's eating. It misses the trash can by about a foot, falling to the floor of Louis' kitchen and definitely leaving a sticky residue that he's going to have to clean up later.

"You kept getting yourself into trouble and their afterlife experience became too stressful, so they quit. After the fifth guardian angel quit their post last week, there were no other volunteers, so that's where I stepped in. I was getting bored of welcoming souls into hell anyway...they're so goddamn whiney, I'm always like, bro, just shut the fuck up—"

"So you're my guardian demon," Louis says flatly, cutting the demon/man/thing off before he can get any further.

He smiles largely enough to show dimples, which seem like a completely inappropriate thing for a demon to have.

"Exactly," the demon confirms.

22) Baby, Loving You’s The Real Thing | Explicit | 21011 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Harry never thought he’d be taking care of a child at the age of twenty-one—well, trying to anyway.

23) Let Me In | Explicit | 24059 words

Note: The main pairing is Louis/Zayn Malik. This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here. 

Louis and Zayn begin messing around on tour in 2014, but Zayn's getting ready to make a decision that he knows is going to change everything, possibly for good. They just have to believe that they can make it.

24) Heart Of Sugar, Sweet Temptation of Mine | Explicit | 25600 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

The process of courting is seriously outdated nowadays, it's not common anymore; people don’t want to go through the hassle of a proper courtship, dating is easier.

Louis though, he was raised in a very traditional family, every member, down to his parents, had a courting and a mating ceremony. He grew up hearing stories about how wonderful it is, how much deeper the connection gets between a courting pair can get, and he's wanted that for himself since he was a pup, always dreaming of his alpha showing up and sweeping him off of his feet.

His dreams seem to be coming true when he moves into a new building, closer to where he works, and the older alpha living in the flat in front of his own, initiates the courtship process. Everything he's ever wanted is within reach.

Or is it?

25) Feeling Peachy, Take A Bite | Explicit | 25654 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Prompt 570: omega louis works at a cupcake shop. he makes the prettiest cupcakes and loves his job. in comes beefy alpha harry who absolutely loves to eat louis’ cake. inspired by louis being a cute baby girl handing out cupcakes. (no a/b/o necessary, but louis has to be feminine)

26) Like Rabbits In Cigar Smoke | Explicit | 26088 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Los Angeles 1975

The rules to being a Playboy Bunny are very clear. Keep the clients happy while still protecting the brand. Bunny Louis tries very hard to keep to that, and no amount of longing stares or soft touches from world-wide famous rock star Harry Styles is going to change that. He's not that kind of Bunny, right?

27) Hash Brown, Eggyolks. I Will Always Love You | Mature | 26883 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Harry loves watching louis, it never gets old or boring for him because everytime he looks at him he finds traces of something new he didn't find the last time and it always left him in awe to call louis as the love of his life, he get to call him his and he get to know someone as amazing as louis. The way there's a small mole underneath his chins and traces of freckles wrapped around his cheeks like constellations. Louis is so beautiful to just sit and admire what he's like and the small omega didn't even know how beautiful and how important he is for him. That's why whenever louis would get inside his head and be an insecure mess, harry would kiss every tear away and would fill louis up with love. He never wanted louis to go to a drop again because of it so he always makes sure to give him enough of everything he will ever need.

Andy place down their orders as harry was still lost in staring at his muse that louis was quickly arranging their food in the way he loves to. "Okay we've finally got our hash browns, some nice sunny side up egg yolks.. and what else?" Louis rambled, trying to organize the many food his alpha had ordered for him.

"I love you."

28) Ding-Dong! Daybreak | Explicit | 28096 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

“Hungry for knot?” The alpha’s voice suited his image so well. The deep, borderline sensual octave made Louis shiver. It was laced with timbre and Louis couldn’t remember the last time someone had spoken with a voice like this to him. But wait… Did the alpha just ask him if he was “hungry for knot”? "Excuse me?" The omega could feel a hot flush underneath his skin.

All it took was a flat bike tire, confusing usernames, pumpkin flavored biscuits, a chaotically supportive dog and food deliveries at daybreak for Omega Louis to fall hard.

29) If It Wasn’t For The Nights | Explicit | 28449 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

“Okay, so. You didn’t fuck. But you’re gonna go hiking with Harry?” Zayn raises an eyebrow. “You don’t even go outside.”

Louis groans, crossing his arms on the table and hiding his face in them. “I know.”

30) What It Feels Like | Explicit | 34272 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

“Okay, right. Aren’t you straight?” Harry was straight. Unless he somehow lied to the entire internet about how much he likes pussy, he was straight.

“A good time is a good time. A hole is a hole. What does it matter that I’m straight?”

Louis’ knee wobbled. Barely. Everything was fine.

“That doesn’t sound straight to me.”

Harry groaned and tossed his head back. He looked more comfortable in Louis’ office than he did, swiveling back and forth. “What does it matter that I want to have sex with you? You’re pretty, like a girl, and you moan like one, too. It’s your fault, not mine.”

31) Something As Simple As This | Explicit | 34625 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Trapped in a cabin in the middle of nowhere after a blizzard derails Louis from getting home, he and the attractive stranger who owns the place have nothing to do but... well, each other. It would be a real shame if feelings got in the way, and even more of a shame if a secret about this stranger's identity turned both their lives upside down and inside out.

32) Every Witch Way | Explicit | 36318 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Heart leaping to his throat, Harry’s head snaps up in shock to see a person standing in the middle of the room. Someone dressed in a black sweatshirt that absolutely swamps his smaller frame and jeans that are cuffed at the ankle. More peculiar is the cat perched on his shoulder, blinking at Harry with luminous purple eyes.

“Who the fuck are you?” Harry chokes out once he regains the ability to speak, eyes widening as he realizes the carved circle on the floor is now glowing bright violet. “What the fuck is going on?”

The stranger simply raises an eyebrow, cat still on his shoulder. “You’re definitely not Cressida.”

33) To Paint A Symphony | Explicit | 40583 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Despite being a wedding painter, Louis has never had quite an optimistic outlook on marriage life. Love, sure, he’s a hopeless romantic and he longs for a sweet partner, to feel adored and cherished, but a part of him will forever doubt that love can last forever, a spark never lasts long, after all, so he paints because strokes of paint can remain forever and unchanged if looked after properly, cared and cherished the way he wished he could be, safe from an unsure future. Harry, on the other hand, as a performer and lyricist, indulges in pleasure. He loves love, never wastes a moment, never hesitates, always so sure of what he wants. Songs come and go on the radio, sometimes forgotten, sometimes transcending generations, the way people leave, and others stay. He never thinks of a future because he only ever lives in the present and he never was egocentric enough to think he could make a real impact and his art could outlive him.

At a wedding under summer skies and surrounded by endless sea, two seemingly polar opposite lovers meet, and perhaps one learns to let himself feel and fall, and the other lets himself hope and cling on.

34) Catch Me If I Fall | Explicit | 47100 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

“You– how do you–” Louis stammers before attempting to compose himself, fighting off the tidal wave of fear that threatens to wash him away in its wake. “No. You don’t. You don’t know.”

Every protest falling from his lips is in vain, because despite what he keeps telling himself, Harry knows.

Harry's widening smirk is answer enough as he steps forward slowly, walking up until he’s right in Louis’ space.

“You look like you need some time to process things,” he whispers with false-earnestness. Sliding a hand under Louis’ chin, Harry tilts his head so Louis is forced to look up at him. “Why don’t we take a little break and start up again later, so you can mull things over?”

35) This Is How You Fall In Love | Explicit | 53538 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

When Harry Styles' 16 year old daughter dragged him along to see her favourite artist, Louis Tomlinson, in concert, the last thing he had expected was to be invited backstage. Unaware his life was about to change forever.

36) Not Afraid Of Living On A Fault Line | Explicit | 55218 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

His eyes widened when he realized he had just somehow managed to ask Harry to hang out.

Judging by Harry’s own expression, he wasn't the only one who was shocked. Louis expected him to laugh it off the ridiculous request but the beta looked up at him, almost hopefully. “Are you being serious?”

“Um,” was all Louis could say, feeling every bit as speechless as Harry had been earlier. “Are you?”

Harry shrugged. “I’ve been told I need to get out more.”

37) Dark Doom, Honey | Explicit | 57801 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Louis lifted one shoulder, lips slightly pursed. “You are acting like an asshole.”

Harry’s mouth pressed into a thin line, eyebrows knitting together. “I wasn’t being an asshole, I was following my own rules. The ones I always follow when I’m about to start an arrangement with a new submissive. If you don’t want this or are having doubts, we should stop now. But if we do this, I do want to make something clear, I’ll never do anything you don’t want to, but you have to be aware that I’ll never be sweet, I don’t do sweet, you already saw what I do. If you want something different you can go on dates, this is not that. Are we clear?”

It was the perfect way out. Louis could simply say no and their lives would keep on going as they were. So far, nothing was changed beyond repair. But he wanted to be. At some point in his life, way before Harry and the betrayals, Louis lost a little of himself, and had never felt closer to getting it back than in Lair, with Harry.

“Crystal.”

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here. You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

#bottom louis #top harry #larry #fic research #blp #monthly fic recs #blp fic recs

[rrxnjun]

(im really stupid but i hope u like this fanletter 😭)

hello <3 this is for my favourite writer on tumblr; to the the same writer who does not realise how much their works could mean to someone, the lovely @rrxnjun 🎀 !!!

so, i found your blog at the beginning ot this month– november, 2023, and now that the month's about to end, i have nearly finished reading all your nct works.

to me, this month is the most special one of this year. why? because i found your blog, your stories– some pieces of your mind. i found you through one of those nct fanfic recs, 'take the stairs - njm' being the first work i read from you. it was sweet, it made me happy. and then i read the other two parts of the 'simplify romance' series, which will always hold a special place in my heart.

this year has been the worst for me, with no one for me to lean on to, weird identify crisis shit, and losing myself in this tiring process of growing up. but you know what? you saved 2023 for me. when no one's words could speak to me, yours did. you make me feel a little less lonely.

im a silly teenager, who never read sad/mainly angsty stories before i found you because i was scared, i was confident i'd cry. and i did. i gathered the courage to read angst only because you'd written it, and it was so worth it. ive stayed up so many nights this month just to read your works in peace and privacy, hidden from my family, and then spend the days thinking about how you literally create art, and telling my bestfriends about it. you are blessed. you are phenomenal. no amount of thank yous or i love yous could be enough for me to express my gratitude. you've made me feel so at peace with my thoughts sometimes and you've made me feel like i'm not alone. you have magic in your hands. i owe you so much, i wish i could gift you something, but sadly im still a minor and theres a few years until i finish uni and then get a job, and then i promise i'll get you something, because i am so lucky to be able to read your stories for free. you deserve so much more than followers, likes and reblogs. each one of your fics have made me tear up and all of them are too special for me.

this month ive read all of your nct dream '00 line fics, and my favourite was 'happier than ever' which i finished a week ago— AND I SWEAR THAT FIC DESTROYED ME 😭😭😭 it had me bawling my eyes out for two hours on a school night i love it so so fucking much, i literally think about it daily and i told all my friends about it and im so in love with it, please tell me, for my inner peace that renjun and the reader ended up getting together and being fine because im gonna cry over it for the rest of my life IDC IF THEY DIDNT END UP TOGETHER please lie to me and tell me they did 💔💔💔💔💔😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

i want you to know, and to remember this whenever you feel even a little like giving up— you have magic, bar, don't ever let go of that magic.

your stories make me want to heal and to help everyone heal. to be loved and to love everyone. to be cared for and care for everyone. your magic helps me survive my days with a little smile. thank you so much for everything you've done for me, without realising you're helping me live.

every single word i wrote here– i swear on everything i have, i genuinely mean it. you are the best thing that happened this year :) i hope that one day someone will love you as much as i love your blog.

(me when i talk about your work)

P.S. permission to take a screenshot of your blog and paste it to my scrapbook by which i can remember my teenage years that your stories mended, please?

thank you for reading, ily ❤️

- your biggest fan (hopefully no one's more dedicated!!) 💘

when i saw this in my inbox i got so emotional i couldnt reply immidiately because i genuinely wanted to sob. this is so so sweet and it mustve taken a long time to type out and i appreciate you a WHOLE lot, not only for this, but also for supporting me sm over the last month. :,)

take the stairs is a very sweet and fun fic and i am glad you found my blog through this one, haha. the simplify romance series holds my favorite fics and i PROMISE to finish jeno's entry at the beginning of the next year!! it HAS to be done. it means a lot to me that you took the time of your day to read my works and that you enjoyed them so much to let me know.

i am happy to hear that my work could help you through some hard times. as a reader on this platform as well, i do know that feeling very well and i could never imagine being that person to someone, but i am glad my words could be there for you when no one else could. hearing this makes all the effort feel worth it, and it's something i'll think of whenever im having a hard time with my work again. i also hope life is nicer to you in the future, and if you ever need someone, my inbox is always open.

having my fics be called art is something i never imagined could happen. it's beyond what i think about my work, but i am honored to hear this compliment, truly. despite being a writer i cant find the words to express my gratitude towards you and your supportive words right now >:( it does mean the whole entire world to me. please do NOT worry about "paying me back" or something, i do this because it's what i love doing and sharing my work with others makes me happy, so an ask like this is more than enough for me. you made me feel really appreciated and i will remember and treasure your kind words forever.

happier than ever is definitely a heavier read, since it's partly from personal experience, hh. i tend to project on renjun a lot so take this as a warning for my other renjun fics LMAO. TT this fic has a special place in my heart and hearing you talk so highly about it makes me all warm on the inside hhhhh my love langugage is words of affirmation stop this or ill cry. i enjoy leaving my fics open-ended to interpretation of the reader, so whatever you feels fits their story is how the story ends for you. <3

i will definitely use this ask as a reminder to not give up when i feel like doing so. it really brought me a lot of strength :) thank you for calling my writing magic. i never imagined someone describing it that way, but it does feel good to hear haha

knowing that my work helped somebody and made them heal and feel all sorts of emotions inside makes me feel at peace. thank you so much. SO much.

also u really make me want to bawl with that scrapbook comment. cant believe im an important part of someone's teenage years :((

once again, words cant express how much this means to me. thank you and i hope my fics continue to be a source of good things for you :) i will think of this often. ily

#💌ask #feedback !! #<3