#and it just feels reminiscent of days gone by and they were once so close but time and life their own decisions have torn them apart

[lotus-pear]

"feels like we could go on for forever this way.." (x)

#wooo new header for me <33 #also back to skk posting i missed them sm #wanted to pratice some scenery and try a new style which simplifies my current one and focuses more on colors and painting #and i'm super happy with how it turned out i think i won #for forever fits skk so well it rly brings back the bittersweet memories of when they were once partners and each others halves #and it just feels reminiscent of days gone by and they were once so close but time and life their own decisions have torn them apart #ben platt's voice is so pretty i love this song sm i heard it for the first time again in years and was slammed by all the emotions😭😭 #i was so normal abt deh when it first came out i swear #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd #dazai osamu #osamu dazai #nakahara chuuya #chuuya nakahara #soukoku #skk #lotus draws

[foxy-eva]

Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

Summary: Spencer was the right person at the wrong time, no doubt about it. When you’re finally back in town, you’re ready for a fresh start. 

Request: Exes with Feelings, Having an Argument, Finding Comfort in Each Other's Arms

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Category: Fluff, Comfort 

Content Warnings: mentions past break-up and fighting, a little misunderstanding, heavy kissing

Word count: 2.1k

Author’s Note: I wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins New Beginnings Writing Challenge

Masterlist

Endless hours of late-night phone calls. More time spent on planes than inside each other’s arms. Weekends that were never quite long enough.  

“Distance makes the heart grow fonder,” Spencer said. 

He was nothing but supportive of your decision to take an internship on the other side of the country. There was no doubt that the two of you could make this work, you were soulmates after all. 

“So fond it sometimes starts hurting,” you added. 

Neither of you expected that what should have been a temporary arrangement could turn into something more permanent. But when you got offered a full-time position for your dream job, you had to make the most difficult decision of your life. 

“You could come with me, you know,” you told him after letting him in on your decision to take the job offer. He only shook his head. 

“Why is your job more important than mine?” You hissed, angry that he wasn’t even considering that option. When he didn’t answer, you added, “Why is your job more important than me?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Neither of you wanted to end this relationship but after that argument you knew it was inevitable. Spencer’s stubbornness stood in the way of him begging you to stay, even though you wished for nothing more than one of those cheesy airport scenes from the romcom movies you liked to watch together. 

He never showed up, though. 

It was hard to believe that all of that happened almost a year ago. The heartache never fully went away and it got worse now that you were back, walking the streets of a city you once called home. Your job made you happy for a while but after months of trying and failing to make new friends, you had to admit to yourself that you missed your old life. 

And more than anything, you missed Spencer. 

The city still felt familiar as you stepped closer to the apartment building you spent so many days and nights in. It was almost like no time had passed when you walked up the stairs to Spencer’s apartment. The hallway still carried the same scent of old wood and the steps still creaked underneath your feet. Before you had reached his door another memory flooded your mind. 

Turning your head, you looked down the hallway and remembered how Spencer spun you around right there in a little impromptu dance when you came home from one of Rossi’s infamous dinner parties. You were happy then - some might even call you naive - and so convinced that you’d spend the rest of your life with the man of your dreams. 

The more you got lost in reminiscing about times long gone, the more you could almost feel the warmth Spencer always radiated. Your skin started tingling where he used to press his palms against you, holding your close as if nothing could ever come between the two of you. 

You sighed as you let those memories go. There were so many uncertainties as you stepped closer to his door. You weren’t sure if he still lived here and you didn’t know if he had found someone else to keep close since you left. The rational part of your brain knew that you should have called him before showing up, that he might not even want to see you. 

But those past months you recognized that you were nothing but a fool when it came to love and romance. He didn’t show up at the airport for you but a part of you still believed he would take you back just like the people in those romcoms always did. 

Relief washed over you when you found his name still written on the door of apartment 23. 

Three knocks. No answer. 

You lingered for a few moments to listen for any movement behind his door but there was none. Spencer wasn’t home and your life really wasn’t some corny movie. 

As you walked away from his door you contemplated your options. Maybe you should send him a text or even write him a letter to let him know you’re back in town. 

Or maybe you should just let it go. 

Just when you reached the last step, a tall curly-haired man entered the building. You recognized him instantly, many moments before he even realized that you were there. He greeted the doorman before turning his head towards the staircase and spotting you. 

Spencer’s face was impossible to read and looked nothing like you imagined whenever you dreamed about running into him again. Where you hoped to find a bright smile, only a thin line was visible. He looked as if he wasn’t sure you were real, as if he couldn’t trust his own eyes. 

“Hi Spencer,” you broke the silence. 

“H..Hi,” he stammered as he stepped closer. “What are you doing here?” 

I’m trying to win you back. I came to tell you how much I miss you. I want to start over. I’m still in love with you. 

There were many things you could have answered but none of the obvious explanations made it past your lips. Instead you said, “I have a job interview.” 

Spencer was confused and raised his eyebrows. “In my building?”

“No, not here of course,” you awkwardly laughed. “I have a job interview here in DC tomorrow. And I thought I’d come by to say hi.” 

Spencer just stood there like a doe caught in the headlights. It still seemed like he had a hard time processing what was happening. 

Right when he wanted to open his mouth, a raven-haired woman entered the building behind him. She was almost as tall as him and absolutely gorgeous. 

“Hey, are you ready to leave?” She asked when Spencer turned around to look at her. 

“I’ll be there in a second,” he answered before finding your eyes again. “I’m sorry but now is not a good time. Can I call you later?” 

Of course he had found someone else. 

You were too late. 

“Don't worry about it!” You said and quickly walked away from the most awkward situation you had ever been in. 

When you were almost around the corner, you heard Spencer call out your name, followed by, “Please wait!” 

Turning around, you found him running towards you. He slowed down the closer he got, coming to a halt about an arm-length away from you. He looked back and you followed his sight, spotting the woman getting into a car. She didn't drive away, instead it seemed like she was waiting for him. 

It was as if you were struck by lightning when you suddenly felt Spencer's arms wrapping around you. A hug was the last thing you had expected in that moment. It took you a moment to reciprocate the gesture, your arms closing around his body as if no time had passed since you last got a chance to do that. 

Never before had an embrace felt so healing. Like two lost puzzle pieces finally finding their way back to each other. You instantly felt the warmth he radiated entering your body and flooding through you.  

For a few seconds it was nice to pretend that no time had passed but once you remembered her, reality came crashing down on you. You wanted him to be happy more than anything but you couldn't deny that you still wished it could be you who he’d find happiness with. 

You were the first to let go, slowly stepping back to find his eyes. “I’m glad you found someone. She seems lovely,” you said while attempting to smile. 

“What..? Oh you mean Tara?” He turned his head to look back at her car for a second. “She’s my new coworker. I’m actually on the job right now, it’s a local case. I was just stopping by the apartment to grab some books I needed.”

Oh. 

“I really gotta get back to Quantico now. Where are you staying?” 

You mentioned the name of the friend you were staying with and told him, “I’m sorry I came by unannounced. You usually have Sundays off so I thought I’d give it a try.”

Spencer smiled at you and said, “No, I’m glad you did. It might be late when I get back tonight but I would really like to talk more.”

“I’m still a night owl,” you snickered. “Just call me when you're on your way home.” 

Several hours passed until your phone finally rang. The call was short, just a simple agreement you’d meet him at his place in about thirty minutes. 

When you stood in front of his door this time, you almost didn't have the courage to knock. After taking a deep breath, you did it anyway. 

As if he had been waiting right at the other side of the door, he opened immediately and let you step inside. 

“I like the way you wear your hair now. It looks great,” he complimented you. 

You noticed that he looked different, too. His hair was longer but his curls still seemed unruly. Just like they used to when you still had the chance to let your fingers brush through them. 

You smiled at him. “You look good, too.” 

It seemed like time had stood still inside his apartment. A few more books were scattered around and it looked a little more messy than what you were used to, but all in all it was still very familiar. Muscle memory led you to the same spot on his couch you always liked to sit in. 

Spencer followed you, taking his seat beside you. It was hard to find the right words when you looked into his eyes. The color of his irises reminded you of wild honey, so warm and alluring you couldn't get enough of looking at them. 

Before you got too lost, Spencer decided to start the conversation. 

“So, you have a job interview tomorrow?” 

“Yeah, I do,” you confirmed. “I want to move back here. I miss DC.” 

I miss you, was what you really wanted to say. 

“What about your job in Seattle?” 

You just shrugged and mumbled, “I’m ready for something new, I guess. Seattle never felt like home.” After a moment of uncomfortable silence you added, “I never should have left.”

Spencer shook his head. “Eventually, you would have regretted not taking that chance. And you probably would have resented me for that.”

“I never thought I would be someone who chose career over love,” you confessed. 

“It’s not that simple,” he disagreed. “I was just too stubborn and hurt to see it back then. It took several months until I could understand that I was trying to hold you back from starting a promising career. That wasn’t fair. I could have easily transferred to the Seattle field office or maybe start teaching at a university there. At the time you didn't have the same opportunities here in DC.” 

His words surprised you. It was an admission you never thought you’d hear from him.

“You wanted to choose love and career by asking me to come with you,” he continued, his tone laced with pain. “I was the one who chose his career over love. And I really regret that.”

“Spencer,” you whispered as you moved closer to him. “I missed you so much.” 

He reached out his hand to touch yours. “I missed you, too.”

His touch let something snap inside you, suddenly you were not able to hold back any longer. Without a warning your lips found his, feverishly kissing him as if you could somehow make up for lost time. 

He didn't seem surprised about your display of affection. Instead he reciprocated the kiss with a similar amount of enthusiasm. It was not enough though, there was still too much space between you. 

It was obvious that Spencer felt the same way, his hands pressing against your body until you had found your way into his lap. Between heavy breaths and lips brushing against one another, you started to forget your surroundings. 

Your chest was pushed flush against his, your racing heart sensing its counterpart inside his ribcage and skipping several beats. 

“Please, Spencer,” you whimpered against his lips, unable to let everything in your mind spill from your mouth. 

I’m sorry for leaving you. Please give me another chance. I love you. 

There was no need for those words to be spoken. Spencer understood anyway. 

“I’m yours,” he cooed between more kisses. “I have always been yours.”

Please like, reblog and leave a comment! I need your lovely words to stay motivated to write more stories.

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @gspenc @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @sebs-oxygen @happymangospot @cynbx @hotchandspencearedilfs @emiliaserpe @thenerdthatwrites @velvetthunder93 @saturnstringz @missabsey @guacam011y @hugyourlungs @reiderwriter @enamoradax @hales-17 @cham9ions @loaksulluyswife @ecneremili @xserenax-13 @grumpyy-bearr @luredwithpretzels @castiels-majestic-wings @super-nerd22 @pleasantwitchgarden @yeonalie @r-3dlips @evvy96 @torigorie @meyaareads

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid comfort #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff

[dragonsholygrail]

Reminiscent Nightmares

Astarion Ancunin x Durge!Reader

a/n: I am consumed with soft wordless sex. Total physical communication showcasing a couples intimate knowledge of each other. I love I love I love.

summary: After a nightmare of past pains you’ve inflicted, Astarion is right there to comfort you. While you feel as though you can’t talk about it, Astarion will be there for you in other ways until you can. He will always be there for you.

warning: MDNI +18 make outs, groping, soft p in v sex, clitoral stimulation. Nice and simple.

word count: 2K

Your brows furrow, shaking your head, even as you lay in a deep sleep. Squirming around in your bed a whimper escapes you as visions— no memories, whirl through your mind in a torturous loop. Pools of blood come in waves, crashing against the walls and flooding the vision of your dream. Endless faces pass the view of your eye, being presented with them all before they fall off to the side and another takes its place.

Kill after kill you’re reminded of every single one. Your mind not allowing you to forget about a second of the pain you inflicted on others. An unending stream of the damage you caused and the torture you brought upon others. All of it now coming back to you.

By the time you’ve gone through them all, you’re whimpering, tears streaming down your cheeks even though you remain asleep. Just when you think it’s over, when all is done, when you’ll finally be able to gain some release… one more head slowly floats through the river of blood.

The head slowly comes to a stop and the face that greets you is none other than Astarion’s.

You scream and a second later Astarion is shaking you awake. Your eyes shoot open and scatter around as you try and take in your surroundings, your breath is heavy with panic, and you can’t stop squirming as you feel your skin crawl. The idea of Astarion being gone, and worse by your hand, haunts your every waking thought.

When Astarion gently cups your jaw, bringing your gaze to his, you cry out at the sight of him, more tears streaming down your cheek. Astarion shakes his head, quietly shushing you in hopes to calm you down. Your tears seem unable to stop as your eyes move over his every beautiful feature. Your hands reach up, taking his face in your hold. Thumbs rubbing over smooth cheeks. You feel him. He is here. He is unharmed.

Your eyes catch onto your hands and you know that he is safe. He is safe in your embrace. You aren’t like that anymore. You don’t do those things anymore. Neither of you do. Ever since everything ended and you’ve both settled into your new lives in Baldur’s Gate. You would never hurt him, not then nor now. While there were some close calls you have full control. You’re positive.

Nothing will ever harm him. Not you or anyone. You two will spend your days protecting each other from whatever threat may come your way. You’re a team. You continue rotating through those thoughts, filling your mind with them as you inhale and exhale deeply, meeting Astarion’s worried gaze once more. His free arm moves around your waist and he brings you impossibly closer. The feeling of his body against yours furthers your comfort.

With time you eventually calm down, your breath slowing down and the panic dissipating. When fully relaxed against his body, Astarion’s eyes furrow in a silent question. You blink back, not wanting to even think about it right now. Not wanting to think about anything. So you lightly shake your head at him and his features drop just as quickly as his question, understanding you immediately.

Instead he uses his hold in your jaw to gently guide your lips to his, continuing to provide you with closeness and comfort. You inhale sharply through your nose as your lips collide. A small moan escapes you as you lean into his touch, lips simply connecting for a moment. But you both easily fall into a gentle rhythm as your lips caress each other lovingly.

Astarion’s hand slides into your hair and he uses it to pull you in closer, groaning as his mouth devours yours. Both of you quickly become swept up in the easy dance of your mouth’s movements. You whimper, everything Astarion being the only thing you can focus on. The only thing you can think about.

When he slowly brings you back down on the bed, hand on the back of your head for extra cushion, you moan again, flicking your tongue along the seam of his lips. Astarion rolls on top of you, legs cradling your hips as he opens his mouth to you. You both grin as you take turns teasing each other with your tongues. His actions meant to distract and comfort and you weren’t ashamed to say they were working.

Astarion slowly works to undress you both, taking his time, savoring the taste of your tongue on his. Only separating when you have to and then his lips are crashing back down on yours. You moan, softly pulling him down once he’s finished, your body shuddering to feel his cold skin brush along the heat of yours. The contrast sending sparks up your spine.

Your body arches into his as you feel his hand slowly making its way down your form. The sensation of his mouth and hands continuing to drive all worrying thoughts out of your head. Astarion takes his time with you, wanting to feel every groove and curve that makes up your body. His hand slips between you both once he reaches your hips.

A hiss escapes him and you feel his breath ghost across your face. Your brows furrow and you whimper, hips jolting up, knowing his next movements precisely. A moment later you feel the crown of his cock parting your folds. Your eyes snap open only to meet Astarion already looking down at you. A soft expression on his face as he gages your reactions, always making sure you’re ok. You do the same, reaching a hand to touch his cheek. You bring his forehead to rest against yours, taking a moment to connect with him emotionally.

You gasp as he teases the hole of your sex and your heart skips a beat at the slight quirk of his mouth. Which only grows wider once he hears the way your pulse instinctively reacts to him. Your moans rip through the silence as Astarion pushes inside of you with ease. Your eyelids drop as you let out a whine, the feeling of him entering you has your body filling with warmth.

Astarion easily moves straight into a languid pace, his length gliding through your wet heat as he works you open, stuffing you full of him. Your hands slide into his hair, foreheads remaining connected as he thrusts inside you. Both of you maintaining eye contact. The intensity of emotion in his gaze takes your breath away. He wants to be here for you. To look after you. And though you may not be ready to talk, he is right here to comfort you.

Your nose nuzzles against his in a silence appreciation, your chest blooming with even more love and devotion for this man. Astarion grunts, a low rumble in his chest at your sign of affection, before picking up his pace only slightly. You sigh at the feeling of his cock massaging your walls, head falling back slightly as hips roll into yours. Soon your body falls into rhythm with his, pushing back against every pump into your core.

A soft cry leaves you as he hits your G-spot. Arms tightening around him, you’re desperate to feel him close. Astarion’s hands squeeze at your waist while his cock leisurely pumps its way inside you. He nips at your jaw gently, wanting your attention back on him. Your breath stutters as your hips meet once again in a quiet smack. Tilting your head up you meet his gaze and his lips are immediately connecting with yours, causing you to groan.

Heat swirls at the bottom of your belly as you feel your orgasm begin to grow. Your hands softly play with Astarion’s curls as you kiss. Your lips moving in tandem with the steady rhythm of his pulsing length. The feeling sends your heart racing and your skin tingling. An easy passion falls over you both like a thick cloud, blocking away the rest of the world and all that remains of you and Astarion.

You whimper against his lips, mind growing hazy as you’re lulled by his soft lips and the occasional nip of his fangs. Your nerves are on fire, your entire body prickling over as you savor each time he fills you. With the building pressure within you, you know you’re getting closer and closer to your climax. Astarion groans, feeling the way your muscles tense underneath him, feeling how your body radiates heat those moves through him and drives him with a need he’s only ever truly felt with you.

His hands caress your thighs, soothing out the slight twitching occurring as you find yourself just on the edge. Then a hand is moving to the apex of your thighs, his diligent fingers quickly finding your clit. Your jaw drops slightly and he uses this to his advantage, tongue slipping into your mouth to brush along yours. Your body jolts into his touch and you melt against the slow circles applied to your bundle of nerves.

It only takes a few more soothing strokes before your walls are fluttering around his cock and you’re falling off the edge, your release coating his cock. You moan loudly and Astarion swallows it all down, mouth latching down on your tongue and sucking lightly. Your body shudders in response, making the slight shaking of your body all the more worse as your orgasm moves through you in gripping shockwaves.

You clench down on Astarion, not even aware of your actions as your release consumes you. Astarion grunts, his stomach clenching and with a few stuttering thrusts, he sinks down inside you before spilling himself. Your eyes roll back into your head and you gently grind against him, milking him for every last drop.

Both of you rock into each other slowly, helping each other ride out your highs. Your kisses grow lazy, mouths smacking together, unable to stay away for longer than a few moments. Your eyes flutter as you desperately try and stay awake. Astarion watches you, his own eyes half-lidded, a storm of powerful emotions brewing in the depths of his red gaze. Yet you don’t back away from it, instead lulled into its embrace.

Astarion rolls you both onto your sides once you’ve both calmed down. He keeps you connected as he draws you tight against his chest. You breathe deeply, your body relaxed, contentment now coursing through you as you lay in Astarion’s arms. Both of you protected. Both of you safe. You slowly begin to fall asleep, grateful for your love and the way he flawlessly has come to understand you.

A moment later you feel a hand rest on the back of your head and your body jolts a bit, the touch waking you up more. Astarion shushes you gently, leaning in to press calming kisses across your brow. You hum and snuggle back in closer to him, accepting every kind of comfort he’s been giving you since your dream rousted you two up. It was only when he started to kiss your forehead did you realize you still remain partially tense. But with his lips on your skin your body completely melts into his and you fall into a dreamless sleep without issue.

Astarion stays by your side, not wanting to get up or move away from you. Watching over you as you rest and hoping the night passes by without anything else waking you. He knows you will talk to him once the morning comes. Share your concerns and let him be there for you in that way as well. He will always be there for you so long as you wish him and doesn’t mind having to prove so. Looking down at you and thinking this all through, he can’t help but lean in and nuzzle into your hair. He closes his eyes, for even if he won’t really sleep, he’ll bask in the act if it means lying with you.

#bg3 #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion x durge #astarion x you #astarion x female tav #astarion x female reader #astarion x f!tav #durgestarion #astarion x f!reader #durge x astarion #astarion x female dark urge #astarion x afab!reader #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion angst #astarion and tav #astarion fluff #astarion hug #astarion smut #astarion imagine #astarion one shot #astarion romance #astarion love #dark urge #bg3 tav #bg3 astarion #bg3 durge

[joelscurls]

to the ends of the earth

pt ii of feel it in your bones | epilogue

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 12k

summary: You spend the week of Spring Break in Austin with your long-distance-boyfriend Joel. As you settle into a comfortable routine together, questions regarding your future arise.

warnings: 18+, minors dni, no outbreak, age gap (reader is in her late 20s, Joel is in his late 40s), fluff, angst (ik ik i’m sorry), smut, phone sex, masturbation (f, m), semi-public touching, unprotected p in v, squirting, creampie, soft dom!Joel, hair pulling, tiniest bit of nipple play, implied oral (f receiving), brief mention of shower sex, use of pet names (darlin’, baby, etc.)

a/n: i’m honestly so overwhelmed with all the positive feedback I got on part 1 - thank you all so much! there will be a part 3 in the form of a lil epilogue, so stay tuned for more of these two! as always, ty to @caffeinated-validation for giving this your eyes <3

Long distance sucks. 

It’s been six months to the day since Homecoming Weekend, five since you and Joel put a label on things: “exclusive”. Not like you’d been talking to anyone else. Since Joel left Vermont that first time, he’d occupied your mind, made a home there, nestled deep between grooves of soft brain matter. 

He’s been back a couple of times since. Quick weekend trips — much like the first one — just without the bad art and couch surfing. And each time he’s come and gone has been more painful than the last. More memories to reminisce on when you lay in bed alone. More words exchanged to drown in. You feel as if your heart has been ripped apart and stitched haphazardly back together every time he slips from your embrace.

The last time you’d seen him in person was New Year’s, when you’d rented a cabin in the Green Mountains, watched Joel react to his first snow, exchanged I love yous for the first time under falling flurries. 

It feels now as if it were a lifetime ago.

It’s never enough — time, kisses, touches. It’s all so fleeting. You want, more than anything, to burrow into Joel’s chest and make a permanent residence there. To go with him where he goes, be with him where he is, always. 

But you know you can’t — it’s not realistic. You have your life here, and Joel has his there. You remind yourself of this fact more times a day than you’d like to admit. 

You will be with him again soon enough, though, and for the longest stint of time yet. An entire week in Texas, you and Joel. 

The thought of it keeps you going in the leadup to spring break.

It’s the night before your flight, an early-morning departure from Burlington International Airport. You’ve waited until the last minute to pack, so here you are, hovering above your suitcase — which lays sprawled out on your bed — aimlessly throwing pairs of underwear and t-shirts into the main compartment. 

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand. A much welcomed distraction. 

And then you notice that it’s Joel calling. 

Your heart skips a beat. You answer. Put it on speaker-phone. 

“Hello?,” you purr, flopping down on the small empty space on the bed. 

“Hi baby,” he drawls, his voice so sweet and saccharine it makes you melt. “All packed?” 

“Yeah,” you lie. “I’m ready.” 

“Me too,” he says. “So ready. I miss you.”

“I miss you,” you parrot. “How was your day?”

He sighs. “Fine, I guess. Had a bunch’a loose ends to tie up at this site before Tommy takes over for the week. A lot’a back and forth on the phone, orderin’ shit.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I hope you won’t be stressed all week thinking about it.”

He hums, so deep it vibrates through the phone. It goes straight to your core. “Impossible, babygirl. Once I have you here, ‘m not gonna be thinkin’ ‘bout anything else.”

Your face heats. An unignorable pang of desire swells in your chest.

“Joel,” you say, desperation already coloring your voice.

“Yeah?”

“I need you.”

Phone sex has become somewhat of a norm for you and Joel, that overwhelming need to be close to one another manifesting as desperate touches of your own fingers and half-coherent pleas through the speaker. It’s rare that a bedtime conversation between the two of you doesn’t end in panting down the line, telling each other goodnight through labored, satiated breaths.

Tonight, your need for him is bordering on carnal, carving into your skin like a sharp blade. You know you’ll have him tomorrow, and a number of days after that, but still, it feels so intangible, unreal. Like you can’t let yourself fully believe it until he’s in your arms. 

And so you need him — right now — in any way you can have him.

“You wanna touch yourself?” 

“Yes Joel — please.”  

“Fuck babygirl,” he breathes. “Okay. Lemme take care’a you.” 

You slip your fingers under the waistband of your sweatpants impatiently. You feel yourself through the thin fabric of your panties and, unsurprisingly, you’re soaked. It’s like you’ve been pavloved  — like all you need is the sound of Joel’s voice, soft and deep like crushed velvet, and you’re gone  — every single time.

“I’m so wet,” you mewl. 

Joel groans on the other end. He sounds almost pained, like not being there to feel you, to taste you, is physically hurting him. If it is though, he covers it up well, snapping his attention back to you like a reflex. 

“You still got your pants on?,” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Take ‘em off for me. And your panties.”

You do as he says, pulling your sweatpants and underwear down in one tug, letting them bunch at your ankles. 

“They’re off,” you say. 

“Good. Now touch yourself baby, go ahead.”

You shallowly dip two fingers into the pool of arousal that’s formed between your thighs. Then you glide slick digits over your aching clit, back and forth, a quiet whimper slipping from your mouth.

“‘ts it, darlin’,” he coos, “rub that pretty pussy for me.”

You pretend your fingers are his — bigger, rougher — as you increase the pressure you’re applying and begin to rub tight circles against your clit. The thought of your touches being his, instead, leaves you failing to swallow back a moan.

“Joel – ngh – it feels good.”

“‘Good, baby,” he says. “Doin’ so good for me.”

You keep going, your breaths becoming increasingly uneven, your hips inadvertently canting off the bed in an attempt to create more friction. You can sense that you’re dripping onto the duvet below you, staining it with your arousal. You’re way past caring at this point — you just need to cum.

You bring your other hand between your thighs, teasing your entrance. You sigh when you find how much wetter you’ve gotten in just a few minutes. You’re sure Joel must be able to hear the lewd slickslickslick of your fingers swirling against your sopping cunt — which he confirms when he curses under his breath.

“Fuck; that all for me, darlin’?”

“Mhm,” you moan.

“Gonna fuck yourself with your fingers for me? Cum all over ‘em, imaginin’ it’s my cock, instead?”

“Yes,” you cry. “Please, Joel, need your cock so bad.” 

“I know babygirl, I know.”

You push two fingers inside as deep as you can get them, crooking them against your walls until you find that spongy spot. You fuck yourself in time with the fingers rubbing your clit, your pace reflexively increasing when you start to feel that familiar warmth growing in your abdomen.

You feel it build, up up up — and then it falls, fading completely. 

“Fuck,” you murmur. 

You don’t relent. But again and again, even with the perfect amount of pressure applied to your clit and the fingers in your pussy curved just right, you find your orgasm just out of reach. You let out a frustrated whine, your movements stalling completely. You can’t get there, not like this, not alone. 

“Joel,” you punch out, “need you to touch yourself. Need you to cum with me.”

He inhales a sharp breath through his teeth. “Fuck, sweetheart — okay.”

You hear a faint clink of his belt on the other side of the phone, followed by the telltale whir of a zipper. There’s rustling over the line. When you hear him sigh, you know his cock is in his hand. And then there’s a shift in his breathing, subtle, but enough that you pick up on it. Evidence that he’s started stroking himself.

“Shit,” he hisses. “Miss that perfect little cunt so bad, baby. Can’t wait to fuck you again. Gonna ruin you.”

You love when he talks to you like this — when he loses himself in it and his tongue works faster than his brain. You’d never imagined when you first met him, reserved, quiet Joel, that he could be so filthy.

“Tell me —“ you plead — “tell me how you’re gonna fuck me, Joel.”

“Fuck, gonna get you in my bed, burry my face between your legs until you’re beggin’ me to stop…”

“Shit,” you gasp, your fingers stuttering at his words.

“‘N then ’m gonna fill you up with this cock, make you go dumb on it, fuck you so good your eyes roll back in your head.”

You whimper. You know he’s not just all talk from experience, and the thought of him fulfilling all these promises so soon has you plummeting toward the brink. As long as he keeps going, keeps talking, you’re not going to last another minute. 

“Gonna make you soak it, make you cum all over my fuckin’ cock. Fuck — swear ’m gonna make you feel so good, baby.”

You feel your orgasm approaching again. But it’s not waning, not this time. You chase it, letting Joel’s words run on a loop in your head: gonna fill you up with this cock, gonna make you feel so good, bury my face between your legs until you’re beggin’, gonna make you go dumb on it, gonna make you feel so good, so good, so good…

“So close Joel,” you breathe. “So fucking close.”

“‘ts it, darlin’”, he says, his voice strained. “‘m right behind you — shit — let me hear you cum. Wanna — ahh — wanna hear you.” 

That’s all it takes, just his encouragement, and you’re cumming so hard the room spins.

You can faintly register Joel talking you through it, able to make out a string of good girls through ringing ears. When you finally start to come down, you can tell he’s nearing his own climax, panting down the line as your own breaths begin to even.

“Please Joel,” you beg. “Please cum for me.”

He lets out a low growl, and then your name is spilling from the tip of his tongue, over and over again, in between strangled moans. 

The line is quiet for a moment, apart from you and Joel’s shallow breathing. 

“Fuck,” he says when he’s recovered from his orgasm, “how many hours til you get here?

You laugh. “I don’t know — too many.”

“Yeah, too many,” he agrees. 

There’s another lull. You yawn exasperatedly, only now realizing how exhausted you are. An earth shattering orgasm will do that to you, you guess.

Joel chuckles on the other end.

“Go to bed, baby. It’ll make the time go faster.”

You sigh. You don’t want to hang up. Don’t want to be without him again. But he’s right. He usually is — though you’d never admit it out loud.

“Yeah, okay,” you acquiesce after a moment.

“I love you,” he hums. 

“I love you too, Joel.”

“Can’t wait to see you,” he adds.

You smile. You’re glad he can’t see you right now, can’t see how ridiculously giddy he makes you. 

“Me either,” you say. “Goodnight.”

“Night, darlin’.”

You’re still grinning like an idiot when you hang up the phone. You lay there for a few minutes, just staring at the ceiling, willing time to move faster.

Eventually you peel yourself off the bed and finish packing. You throw in some lacy bras you know Joel will love — if you end up wearing any real clothes this week, that is. Then you zip your suitcase shut, toss it onto the floor somewhere, and slip under the covers. 

You flick your bedside lamp off with a sigh, and begin your attempt to coax sleep. You are tired, but you’re more excited.

When you finally do drift off — at some ungodly hour of the morning — you dream of Joel, of his large arms wrapped around you, his honeyed voice in your ear. Tomorrow, he whispers, again and again. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.

You wake up the next morning with butterflies the size of baseballs in your stomach. You get to the airport unnecessarily early, make it through security in record time, and plant yourself down at your gate with a coffee in hand two hours before your scheduled departure. 

Your body is practically vibrating in your seat, only partially due to the caffeine. Joel will no doubt still be asleep at this hour, so you shoot him a text to wake up to: 

at the airport, all checked in. can’t wait to see you, cowboy <3

And then you send one to Sarah, who you know will be awake, her study-abroad trip to Cambodia meaning she’s probably studying or eating dinner right now.

On my way to see your dad; miss you! Can’t wait to hear all about your studies sometime soon :) 

She almost immediately responds:

Yay! Miss you both so much! Yes, talk soon pls - lots to catch you up on. The professors here want me to stay forever (I won’t, dw, need to be able to bother you and my dad on a more regular basis).

You laugh to yourself. 

Sarah had been thrilled when she’d found out about your relationship. Had been way too proud of herself for setting you up. When you’d learned she’d faked sick the night you met Joel at the art exhibition, you’d found yourself unable to feign disapproval. How could you care, really, when you’d ended the night straddling him, kissing him?

Not that you’d told her that, of course. She didn’t need to know every detail of that weekend.

It had been…interesting, to say the least, navigating a long-distance-something with the father of one of your students. But Sarah hadn’t pried, even when you’d suspected she wanted to. She’d let it bloom into something more, something real, before beginning to pester you with the questions: isn’t he the worst cook? do you think you guys will get married? can I be your maid of honor if you do?

To which you’d responded: yes (affectionately), I don’t know, and of course you can.

You’ll miss her this week, but another part of you — a more selfish part — is thrilled to have a week alone with Joel, without any distractions. 

So thrilled, you can barely steady your shaking hands enough to plug your phone into the outlet under your seat.

You scroll mindlessly on social media as it charges until it’s time to board. Then you’re shuffling single-file down the aisle of the plane to your row, hauling your suitcase into the overhead, and taking your seat next to the window.

It’s your first flight of two, separated by a three-hour layover. You make it to Philadelphia in just over an hour, halfway through the cheesy 2000s rom-com you’d selected on the inflight entertainment screen. You make a mental note to finish it on the next leg.

You get lunch once you’ve tracked down your new gate  — pay seventeen bucks for a soggy airport sandwich and a bag of chips that, upon opening, is mostly air. When you sit down to eat, you notice that Joel texted you back.

Got one foot out the front door already. Can’t wait to see you babygirl.

You can’t help the embarrassing smile that pulls across your face. 

You re-read the text no less than ten times before you board your next flight — then once more for good measure just before you put your phone on airplane-mode and shove it in your sweatshirt pocket. 

This is it, you think as the wheels lift off the ground and the clouds come closer into view. No more countdown. It’s here.

You have to refrain from sprinting off of the plane as soon as it’s landed in Austin.

You grab your suitcase from the overhead with reckless abandon, nearly knocking another piece of luggage out of the compartment and onto a passing flight attendant. 

“Shit, sorry,” you curse. 

She glares at you, unamused. 

“I’m just…I’m meeting someone here,” you ramble. “I guess I wasn’t paying attention. Too excited.” 

She nods. Pops her gum. “Mhm. Have a good day, ma’am. Thanks for flying with us.” 

You keep your head down as you disembark.

It’d been a packed flight, and so you find yourself weaving through the crowd that’s gathered at the gate as you exit, around parents who have stopped to tie their kids’ shoes and solo travelers pausing to book their ride shares.

You check your phone as you walk, unwilling to waste even a fraction of a second. Find the directions buried in the text thread between you and Joel detailing how to get from your terminal to the passenger pickup area. 

You follow them, suitcase rolling behind you as you trudge along, down a couple escalators and through a corridor.

You round one last corner — and then you see him, standing with his back to a pillar, hands anxiously fiddling at his sides. 

Now you are sprinting.

Your suitcase is abandoned somewhere behind you as you run toward Joel. He doesn’t see you at first. You make it a few feet, shoes squeaking on tile, before his head snaps up and his eyes catch yours. And then he’s bounding forward, meeting you in the middle, your bodies colliding, hard. 

He throws both arms around you, squeezes you so tightly you think your blood vessels may burst. You accept your fate willingly, breathing him in, letting your hands rove along his broad back.

He smells like pine and worn leather and Joel. 

He feels like home. 

He bruises a kiss in your hair, whispering against your scalp in disbelief: baby, you’re here.

You stand wrapped up together for a long moment, Joel rocking you back and forth as you catch your breath. Then you pull apart to look at each other. 

Only then does it begin to sink in — Joel is right in front of you, touching you — and you’re about to spend a whole week together.

“C’mere,” he drawls, grabbing both sides of your face and crashing his lips into yours. It’s a slow kiss, punctuated by gentle strokes of his fingertips along your jaw. Your tongue rolls against his and your fingers anchor into his shirt collar. It simultaneously feels like it lasts forever and not nearly long enough.

“C’mon,” he whispers against your lips when you part. “Let’s go home, darlin.”

You grab your forgotten suitcase and pull it behind you with one hand, the other in Joel’s as you walk to his truck. It’s parked just outside, at the curb, hazard lights blinking. 

“Was supposed to wait here for you,” he explains as he opens the passenger door, helping you in. He takes your suitcase, throws it onto the backseat like it weighs nothing. 

“I’m glad you didn’t,” you smile as he gets into the driver’s seat. “Felt like a rom-com — I liked it.” 

“Yeah,” he says, turning his key in the ignition. His cheeks flush. “I liked it too.”

You stop for fast food on the way to Joel’s — Whataburger, naturally. They don’t have these in Vermont, so you try to savor your burger, but your long day of travel has you ravenous, so you wolf it down, ketchup smearing on the corners of your mouth between bites. Joel just laughs at you from the driver’s seat, piece of lettuce lodged between his front teeth. 

You get it for him — fingernails prodding at his gums, but he lets you. Even sighs at the contact. When you flick the leaf off your fingertip, he pulls you in for a kiss, much softer than the one you shared in the airport, but dizzying, nonetheless. “Better?,” he whispers, and you’re not sure if he’s asking about his teeth or you, but both are true, so you hum affirmingly. 

You sink back into your seat, adjusting your seatbelt where it’s tightened around your neck.

You feel full and drowsy as you throw your trash into the paper bag the food came in, tucking it by your feet. 

You let your head rest against the window. The glass rattles against your skull as the truck begins to move, but you ignore it, too tired to care. And then you let your eyes shut —  just to rest them — that’s all.

You don’t remember falling asleep. 

You come to when you feel Joel at your side, trying to move you from the passenger seat. 

“Baby,” you hear him say. Your eyes flutter open. He brings a hand up to your face, peeling stray strands of hair from where they’re stuck to your forehead and pushing them behind your ear. 

“We’re home,” he drawls. “Let’s go inside, yeah?” 

You nod groggily, still letting your eyes adjust to the daylight. You take in your surroundings: you’re parked in his driveway, his house right in front of you. Somehow, it’s just as you’d imagined it to be — big, sprawling porch at the front, meticulously kempt yard ornamented with a beautiful red oak tree. It’s so Texan, you think, so Joel.

He grabs your luggage from the truck. Then he helps you out, walks you with a large hand wrapped around your middle to the front door and into the house. Once inside, he sets your suitcase down. 

And then he hugs you again, like he’s afraid to let you out of his embrace, lest you vaporize into thin air.

“Still tired? Wanna take a nap?,” he asks.

You yawn, right in his ear. He laughs; that’s enough of an answer. 

“Alright,” he says. You follow him to his bedroom, too sleepy to argue. You pass through the kitchen and living room on the way. Through drooping eyes, you notice scattered pieces of Joel — the guitar leaning against its stand next to the couch, the pictures of him and Sarah lining the staircase. It makes your chest tighten, being here in his house, seeing the parts of him that he can’t bring with him when he visits you.

His room is the most him though — masculine and minimalist. A canvas with a ram painted on it hangs above his bed — a gift from someone, you assume. You can’t exactly imagine Joel strolling the aisles of Target, picking out artwork to hang in his house. There’s another photo of him and Sarah on his bedside table that must’ve been taken at her highschool graduation, cap adorning her head full of curls. 

It makes you smile — all of it. 

You lope over to the bed, climbing in when Joel pulls back the covers for you. He tucks you in with a kiss to your forehead. His duvet wafts his scent, when you pull it up to your face. You inhale it deeply. Commit it to memory.

“Wait,” you say as he turns to leave the room. “Aren’t you going to stay with me?” 

He leans against the doorframe, wood creaking under his weight. “Well I don’t really nap, darlin’,” he admits. “You get some rest, I’ll just be doin’ some stuff around the house.” 

“Please,” you say, sticking out your bottom lip at him. You watch as he thinks on it for a minute, then sighs in defeat. 

“Okay, I’ll nap with you baby.” 

He climbs in next to you. “Only for a little bit, though,” he mumbles, like he’s trying to convince himself.

His broad chest presses into your back. He drapes an arm over your side as you nuzzle into his embrace, so warm, so safe. He noses at your neck, leaving gentle kisses along your exposed shoulder. This, you think, is what heaven must feel like. 

The sound of Joel’s breathing lulls you to sleep.

When you wake up, the room is cast in shadows. It’s dusk, you realize, wiping the sleep out of your eyes. You roll over. Find that Joel is no longer next to you.

His side of the bed is still warm, you notice, so he must not have gotten up too long ago.

You clamber to your feet, ignoring the blood rushing to your head as you stumble out of his room. You make your way down the stairs, hand braced against the wall as you descend. The lights are on in the living room — a sign of life. But Joel isn’t there. 

You wander into the kitchen. He’s not here either.  Did he leave the house? You look around for a note, fish your phone out of your pocket to see if he texted you. But you have zero notifications and the dining table is empty, apart from a pair of salt & pepper shakers and a napkin holder. 

You call out for him, to no avail. Stumped, you make your way to the door that leads to the garage, the only room you haven’t checked yet, and wedge it open. 

To your surprise, you find Joel standing at the back of his truck, loading something into the bed. Upon further inspection, you see that it’s blankets.

Huh?

“Hey,” you announce, making your way down the small set of stairs. He whips around at the sound of your voice. The color in his face drains, like he’s just been caught in the act of something.

“Darlin’,” he says, eyes wide. “You’re up.”

You join him by the truck. Let him rest a heavy arm on your shoulder. You peer up at him with a quirked brow. “What are you doing out here?”

“Well, I uh, I had planned somethin’ for you. Not sure if you’re up for it?”

You look back at the blankets in the truck bed. It’s not just blankets, you discover. There are pillows too, big ones, like the kinds you put on patio furniture, plus a small radio situated in the corner. And there’s a bag of chips leaned up against one of the pillows, next to a box of your favorite candy.

“A picnic… in your truck?”

He laughs. “Not quite. There’s a drive-in movie theater down the road. Thought we could go.”

Those butterflies from this morning suddenly return, swarming your insides at the realization — Joel planned a date for you.

It’s not that he isn’t normally romantic, because he is. 

You recall one particular weekend he’d visited — he’d insisted on cooking dinner for you at your apartment, determined to make it perfect for you. He’d ended up burning the chicken and oversalting his sauce, but you hadn’t cared one bit — not when he’d gazed at you so adoringly across the candlelit table, one of your hands in his as he’d peppered each of your knuckles with kisses.

On another visit, he’d scouted one of the only nearby mountains you hadn’t hiked yet and climbed to the top with you — because the internet said this was the best spot to catch the sunset. You’d stood at the lookout, hand in hand, and shared your greatest dreams — yours to have your research published in a major publication, his to leave contracting behind and buy a sheep ranch. And when the sun had dipped behind the horizon, the sky bleeding vibrant pinks and oranges, he’d just looked at you.

So you know he’s romantic. Still though, you’re practically swooning at the scene in front of you.

“So, you wanna go?,” he asks. He scuffs his boot along the concrete floor, awkwardly. “It’s okay if you d-“

“Joel,” you say. “I wanna go.”

He smiles. Rolls the cover over the truck bed. Presses a kiss to your temple. 

“Alright. Let’s go.”

The sky is dark by the time you get to the drive-in. There are already quite a few cars in the dirt lot, parked in neat rows facing the giant movie screen that sits at the edge of a treeline. There’s a person directing traffic, a teenage boy, you guess, based on his stature, and he twirls his light-up batons in the rearview as Joel rounds the corner to the back row.

He backs into a spot at the far-left, car to your right parked a good ten feet away. And then he cuts the ignition with a quiet grunt, steps out, and makes his way over to your door to open it for you and help you down.

The pillows in the truck bed had jostled around a bit on the drive over, Joel finds when he unfurls the cover. So he adjusts them, making sure everything is just right. Then he unlatches the tailgate and helps you hoist yourself up, following closely behind you as you crawl toward the back. 

Once he’s set the radio to the right channel, Joel sits with his back flush to the truck cab and spreads his legs, patting one of his thighs in invitation. He doesn’t need to ask twice — you immediately crawl between them, letting your head fall back against his chest as he wraps his arms around you, enveloping you in him. 

A satisfied hum escapes your lips. The realization hits you then that you hadn’t even asked what movie you were seeing. Not that you care much — it could be a documentary about grass, and you’d still have a good time, thanks to the company. 

It’s some dystopian sci-fi thriller, you find, as the opening credits begin to roll, with a title you vaguely remember hearing in passing at some point. 

And it’s good. You’re invested in the story by the end of the first act, curious to find out how the main character is going to save her love interest. 

But then you lose interest, quickly, when you feel the white-hot touch of Joel’s fingers against your skin as he slips them under your shirt, inching down your stomach.

He halts when he gets to the waistband of your jeans, and your breath hitches, lodged somewhere in your throat when he dips one finger under the denim. Your hips lift reflexively and he laughs lowly in your ear, prompting a shaky exhale to sputter out of you.

“Stay still, darlin,” he whispers, slipping another finger into your pants.

You try, you really try not to move, but he’s teasing you, his fingers moving the pace of molasses toward your core, where he hasn’t touched you in months. You feel like your entire body is going to combust if he doesn’t make contact with your clit in the next five seconds. 

You whine, quiet enough that it’s muffled by the sounds of the movie echoing from the radio, but still too loud for Joel, apparently. He reaches his free hand out to turn the volume up, pushing the nob a few decibels higher. 

He returns his attention to you. “You want this, babygirl?,” he asks, fingers reaching the hem of your underwear. 

“Yes,” you whisper pleadingly. “Please touch me, Joel.” You feel his cock stiffen behind you, prodding your back. 

“Okay,” he says. He pulls his hand out completely to unbutton your pants and unzip them halfway. Then he’s cupping your sex through your panties, letting his fingers brush over the wet spot that has already formed. 

“Gotta be quiet then,” he purrs. “Can ya do that for me?”

You’re not sure you can, to be honest. He’s barely touching you and you already feel like you’ve lost all control over your body. Whatever it does, however you react — you have no say in the matter. Still, you’re not about to tell him that, risk him stopping, so you nod, furiously, your desperate face illuminated by the flashing light of an action sequence playing out on screen. 

He dips two fingers into your underwear, immediately pressing them to your seam. He curses under his breath behind you, clearly pleased with how wet you are for him, with how easily he breaks you down. He brings them up to your clit, then, swiping back and forth, back and forth, his calloused touch forcing you to suppress a yelp. His fingers feel so rough compared to yours, so good. Breaths are pouring out of you in quick succession, your chest heaving with pleasure. 

You’re briefly paranoid as Joel continues his ministrations that someone might see — but as you glance around the parking lot, you realize that you can’t see anyone else, just shadows in cars and on folding chairs, all focused on the movie in front of them. Slouched within the walls of Joel’s truck bed, it’s impossible for anyone to clock what’s happening.

So you let your body relax, melting into Joel behind you, your hands clinging onto his thighs to hold yourself steady. “‘ts it baby,” he says, your pliancy encouraging him to press his fingers down harder. “Always so good for me, huh?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter, your voice still hushed. 

“Yeah, you are” he agrees, rubbing your clit faster, more deliberately. He knows by now just how to touch you — exactly how to bring you straight to the edge and send you toppling over. And it’s clear that time apart hasn’t affected this in the slightest, your abdomen already tensing, familiar coil tightening threateningly in your core.

You warn Joel with a squeal. His free hand flies up to your face, covering your mouth in an instant. Your eyes roll back instinctively at the lewdness of it, of him muffling you with his palm. You moan freely against it, teeth scraping the skin there as your orgasm grows nearer and nearer and nearer.

It hits you hard. You have to bite down on Joel’s hand to keep from screaming out as it scorches through you, heating every inch of your skin as it does. Your fingernails are digging into Joel’s legs so hard you think you may be drawing blood even through thick denim. He talks you through it, quietly, his utters of atta girl, look at you, ya cum so pretty for me baby keeping you tethered to reality.

When your breathing begins to even and the trembling in your thighs subsides, he removes his hand from your mouth and the other from your pants. 

You gaze up at him through bleary eyes just as he brings the fingers that were pressed against your pussy straight to his mouth, sucking on them through a satisfied hum. He pulls them out slowly, and your body nearly buckles at the sight.

“Taste so sweet,” he whispers in your ear. “Always taste so goddamn sweet.”

Your head swims. 

“Joel,” you say, pointedly. 

“Yeah, darlin’?” 

“We need to leave. Right now.”

He cocks his head at you, confused. “Are you alr-”

“I’m fine,” you cut him off. “But I need you to fuck me right now, and I don’t think we can do that here.” 

You see his eyes darken, his jaw twitch. 

“Yeah,” he says after a few seconds. “Let’s get out of here.”

Joel speeds the entire way home.

The hand he doesn’t have on the wheel grips your thigh, making you dizzy with desire by the time he pulls into the driveway. He lodges the passenger side door open so hard you’d think there was an emergency (maybe needing to fuck your significant other after months of not seeing them in person does constitute as an emergency, though — who’s to say?).

He unbuckles your seatbelt for you, barely letting your feet hit the pavement before his lips are on you and he’s slamming the truck door shut, caging you against it. It feels like he’s everywhere all at once, his tongue sliding along your jaw, down your neck, across your collarbone. You’re panting by the time he pulls back, begging him in not so many words to bring you inside and pound you into the mattress.

It must take you five whole minutes to get from the front door to his room. Joel’s hand is splayed across the globe of your ass as you walk. He stops you every ten feet to spin your around and kiss you again, sucking on your tongue, needy moans slipping from his parted lips. His shirt has been discarded by the time you get to the stairs, and your hands greedily take in every inch of skin they can reach as you make your way up step by agonizing step. 

When you finally make it upstairs, he backs you through the threshold, straight to his bed. You tumble down onto the mattress in a heap, mouths melding together in desperation as he reaches a hand behind you, under your shirt, and unclasps your bra. You help him out, reaching up your sleeve to tug down one strap, then shifting your weight to pull down the other. When you move, he follows you, not letting his mouth part from yours a second sooner than it needs to. 

He tugs the bra the rest of the way off your body and pulls your shirt up over your chest, revealing your bare breasts. Only then does he unlatch his lips from yours so that he can admire you.

“More gorgeous every time I see you,” he mutters, rolling one of your nipples between two fingers until it hardens under his touch. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp. He leans down, lathing his flat tongue over the sensitive peak, eliciting a heady moan from you. 

“Joel,” you cry beneath him, a hand coming up to his shoulder. You push against him lightly. 

And he gets it — as much as he loves teasing, now is not the time. You’ve been teased enough by the miles between you and him. So he pulls back. Lets you roll him over. You straddle him, bracing your hands on his chest and experimentally roll your hips. You immediately feel his hard cock straining against his jeans underneath you. 

You reach between your bodies then, prying open his button and yanking the zipper down. Then your hand is in his pants, tracing the outline of his heavy cock where it bulges under cotton.

You lean down and press a kiss to his clothed length. He hisses through his teeth. 

“Baby,” he groans, hand coming down to tilt your chin up towards his face. “Another time. I need to be inside you. Right now.”

You don’t argue. He sits up. Shuffles back to the headboard, bringing you with him. He pulls your shirt the rest of the way off, over your head. And then he’s helping you slip out of your jeans and panties so that you’re completely naked atop him. 

He pulls you in for another bruising kiss as he tugs his pants and boxers down, just enough to free his leaking cock. He strokes it languidly, smearing pre-cum from the tip down his length. You’re already impatient by the time he’s lining himself up with your entrance, so much so that you have to refrain from taking him all the way down in one go. You use your better judgment, sinking onto him slowly, until you’re flush with his pelvis, the hair at his base tickling your inner thighs. 

His eyes are squeezed shut, his breathing labored as you adjust to the size of him. You’ve missed the sweet, burning stretch of him, the fullness you feel when he’s inside you, like you’re complete, whole. You’re pretty sure you could stay like this forever, make a home here on his throbbing cock. 

When the sting dissipates, you begin to move, rocking on top of him. He grabs onto your hips, steadying you, his eyes blinking half-open to take you in.

“Fuck,” he rasps as you set a steady pace, his cock disappearing from you, then filling you to the brim again and again. “‘ts it baby, take my fuckin’ cock; ridin’ it so good.”

His hips snap up, nearly knocking the air out of your lungs. You wrap your hands around his neck reflexively, digging your nails into his shoulders, indenting crescent moons in the muscle there as he ruts against your g-spot. Your face falls against his chest, your muffled pleas for Joel to fuck you harder, harder, right there barely coherent.

He gets the message regardless.

He pulls you down onto his cock, essentially spearing you on it. You think he must be bruising your cervix, the way his thick head is repeatedly bumping it, but you don’t care. You need every inch of him, need to take everything he has to give you; it feels as essential as the air being punched out of your chest right now. 

He’s fucking up into you so brutally that you find yourself delirious, eyes rolling back in your head for the second time tonight. You can’t even find the strength to warn him of your rapidly approaching orgasm, your body going limp in his grasp. He doesn’t need you to, though — he can tell just by the way you squeeze him that you’re close. 

“Gonna cum for me, baby?,” he growls, hitting that spongy spot over and over and over. 

“Uh — ahhh — uh-huh,” you moan weakly into his skin. Your fingers loosen at his neck, too weak to hold onto him any longer.

Suddenly, he grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling your head off of his chest and holding it up so that you’re looking him in the eye. 

His gaze is lascivious, almost carnal, like going without you for so long has him ready to swallow you whole.

“Look at me,” he spits, “look at me when you cum.”

You nod wearily. You want to give him that, want to give him anything he asks of you. But you’re not sure if you can, not when your eyelids feel like boulders on your face. 

“C-can’t Joel,” you manage through moans as they fall shut again. 

“Nuh-uh,” he snaps, yanking at your roots. Your eyes fly open at the intrusion. 

“You can do it baby, c’mon. Missed these pretty eyes so much — wanna see ‘em.”

You can only imagine how absolutely fucked-out you must look, using every last ounce of energy in your body to keep from slipping again. Your eyes glaze over slightly as he gives a particularly rough thrust, and you feel yourself skyrocket to the edge.

You feel like putty in his hands — and maybe you are. You’d let him mold you to whatever shape he pleased right about now, when he’s making you feel this good.

“There ya go,” Joel coos, bringing his thumb to your clit. He lazily swipes it once — twice — and you begin to fall apart in his arms.

It’s almost violent, your second orgasm of the night. It rips through you, your body thrashing on top of Joel’s, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as he continues pounding into you. It feels different too, something more intense lingering, the threat of it just behind your walls. 

And then he hits that spot again, the one that makes you see stars, and you’re gushing around him. Your release splatters out onto the duvet below you, soaking it. If Joel notices, he doesn’t care.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he groans.

Your eyes adjust as you come to. You take in Joel’s, charcoal black and blown-out with lust. You feel shy, almost, which you know is ridiculous given he’s still inside you. But even so, the way he looks at you, like you’re the most desirable thing he’s ever seen — it makes your cheeks heat.

He flips you over onto your back in one swift movement, slipping from you momentarily as he helps you to wrap your shaky legs around him. Presses a gentle kiss to your trembling ankle as he does. And then he’s burying himself in you again, right to the hilt, his pace slowing as he nears the edge. 

“Please baby,” you cry. “Please cum inside. Need to feel you.”

Your body feels boneless under Joel’s weight, like he’s fucked near everything out of you. And now you need him to feel good, to take whatever he needs from you, whatever you have left to give. 

“Fuck,” he grunts. His hips stall abruptly. He spills into you, deep moans pulling from the back of his throat. You dig your heels into the meat of his ass, dragging him closer, forcing him so deep he paints your cervix.

He pulls out with a hiss, his length softening against your mound as he lifts himself up on his elbows to kiss you. It’s a meager kiss, both of you still too out of breath to deepen it, but it soothes you, along with the soft graze of his thumb over your ribs.

You hold each other for a while, in no rush to move from this moment. You’re pretty sure you drift off more than once, awoken each time by the vibration of his gentle hums against your neck. When you finally do move, it’s not far, just up the bed and under the covers. And then his arms are right back where they were, around you, pulling you tightly to him.

He falls asleep before you, snoring quietly at the crown of your head. You try to wiggle from his grasp, move to the other side of the bed, but even in his sleep, he’s acutely aware of your presence. He just grips you harder, nuzzles his head deeper into your hair. You’ve never felt more content being stuck somewhere.

You slip under again eventually. You’re pretty sure you dream of nothing — no need for your brain to conjure up anything more than what you already have. 

The following morning, you wake up with Joel’s tongue between your legs. He nibbles at your inner thigh, waiting for you to give him the go ahead to continue. And then he makes you cum twice on his mouth before you even eat breakfast. 

He doesn’t let you get up for that, either. He brings you hot coffee in a Texas Longhorns mug and a plate of toast, slathered with butter and grape jelly, and doesn’t complain when you get crumbs on the sheets. 

You’re satiated and caffeinated before you even start your day — which Joel has planned out to a t. 

He brings you to his favorite spot for lunch, a BBQ place by the river, and acts smug when you tell him these are the best ribs I’ve ever had in my life. Then you go home, take a shower — together, of course — and you rinse shampoo out of your hair with his cock nestled comfortably inside you.

He fucks you with your hands braced against the shower wall until you’re screaming, the echoes bouncing off of tile, and then you get back in bed, laze around in your towels until dinnertime. 

Joel orders takeout — sushi for you, lo mein and teriyaki beef for him. You sprawl out on the couch as you eat, your feet in his lap and the calming buzz of the tv on in the background.

It’s the best day you’ve had in a long time.

You easily fall into a routine over the course of the week: wake up, fuck, eat breakfast in bed, fuck, get up around noon, shower, eat lunch, grade papers while Joel cleans up or does yardwork, eat dinner, fuck, go to sleep. 

You almost forget that this isn’t permanent, that you’re going to have to get on a plane and go home soon, that this isn’t your home, here with Joel. That is, until Friday night, over dinner — when Joel abruptly pulls you back down to earth. 

You’re finishing your pasta, spooning the last remnants of sauce into your mouth. Some western flashes across the tv — Joel’s choice, and as you put your bowl down on the coffee table and snuggle up to him, he sighs. 

“This has gotta be the best vacation of my life — or, staycation, I guess.” He says it innocently enough. Still, you feel jolted. Vacation, you repeat in your head until your brain catches up with reality. You feel smothered, suddenly, warm, like your whole body is an ore about to be smelted. You extricate yourself from Joel’s arms and settle on the other side of the couch. 

“Just hot,” you lie. “Sorry.” 

“‘ts alright,” he murmurs, unphased, eyes glued to the tv. 

He doesn’t notice the way you tense, the way your breathing picks up when you excuse yourself to the bathroom. But why should he? There’s no reason for you to be freaking out. 

Except there is.

Because the thought of leaving in a couple days, leaving behind Joel and this routine, not seeing him again for several more months, and even then, only having a weekend, or if you’re lucky, a week with him – it’s making you spiral.

You lock yourself in the bathroom. Close the lid to the toilet. When you sit down, your head falls into your hands, heaving breaths warming the skin of your palms uncomfortably. I can’t do this, you think. I can’t keep doing this.

You love Joel — you do, more than anything. And you can’t begin to imagine living without him. But you also can’t help but wonder, elbows digging into your knees, how this has become your life — all the leaving. 

Something heavy settles in the pit of your stomach. You feel nauseous.

You get up. Splash cold water on your face. Curse your reflection, all sunken eyes and tear-stained cheeks. So stupid. This is why you didn’t want to get into another relationship. The pain, the pain, the unbearable pain.

Why did you have to fall in love with him?

There’s a clanging on the other side of the door — Joel clearing your dishes from dinner — an act of domesticity that plunges the dagger deeper into your bleeding heart.

You wipe your cheeks with your shirt sleeve. Huff at how pathetic you feel.

It’s so stupid, so silly, crying in Joel’s bathroom when he’s right outside, right there waiting for you. Even still, you can’t seem to shake the dread that hangs over you like a storm cloud when you make your way back into the living room with dried eyes, back into his arms.

You hope, silently, that it’ll go away with a good night’s sleep. That this is just a minor breakdown, a hormonal thing, maybe, and you’ll feel better in the morning.

It doesn’t, it’s not — and you don’t.

Joel can tell something is wrong the moment he hands you your morning coffee. You’d slept in today, legs tangled under the sheets, trepidation still clawing its way up your throat. You’d been quiet, had only hummed in response when he’d told you good morning. 

That, he hadn’t noticed. But when he passes you the mug, steam billowing from the mouth, he detects the way you won’t look at him, your mumbled thank you. 

You catch the way he steps back with a dejected hmph, and rounds the bed to climb in next to you.

You feel awful.

The mattress springs creak as he settles, balancing his full mug in one hand, laying the other over yours where it sits on top of the duvet, resting on your covered leg. 

“Y’alright?,” he asks, even though you know he knows the answer. It’s why you don’t lie, shake your head. Your eyes flick up to his as a frown sets under his nose. 

You downplay it. “I’m fine, really. It’s just — I — I’m sad that today’s our last full day. I don’t wanna go home yet.” 

“Don’t have to go,” he drawls, drawing light circles over your skin with his index finger. 

And you know he means it — know he’d let you move in with him in a heartbeat. But you also know you can’t. Can’t leave behind the life you worked so hard to make in Vermont. 

“I wish,” you sigh, taking a cautious sip of your coffee. 

“Well…d’you wanna do somethin’ today? Go into the city? I know we haven’t done much’a anything this week.” He smirks. And just for a moment, the look on his face — that dopey smile and those sweet cinnamon eyes — makes you forget about the darkness fogging your mind. 

“We can do touristy stuff,” he continues. “Do anythin’ you want. To take your mind off things. Make the most of the day, ya know?”

His brows are raised as he anticipates your response. He’s so eager to do whatever it takes for you to be happy, and that makes your chest clench. More than you want to protect your own heart, you want to appease him. He deserves that, at the very least.

So you say yes, let’s do it; show me around Austin.

The cracks in your heart deepen when he nearly jumps out of bed in excitement. 

Joel is a great tour guide, for what it’s worth.

He brings you to his favorite hiking trail in the city. It runs along a lake, the water busy with kayakers and paddle boarders. 

The sky above is overcast. A sliver of sun cuts through the clouds, casting your forehead in a light sheen of sweat as you walk.

Every single passerby waves at you or says hello, all in the same singsong twang. Joel waves back, grunts a greeting. It throws you off, how nice everyone is here. You’ve grown used to New England, with its temperamental weather and even more temperamental people.

“Busy,” you note when another group passes you. 

“Mhm,” Joel hums. Wraps a sweaty arm around you, pulling you into his side. It’s awkward to walk like this, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “Sarah used to love this place. We’d come all the time when she was little.”

You lean into his embrace. Nuzzle your face into the fabric of his T-shirt.

“I know you must’ve missed her this week. Is this the first spring break she hasn’t been home?”

“Yeah,” Joel’s other hand rests at the back of his neck, fingers absently working at a knot in the muscle there. “Gotta get used to it though, I guess, with her stayin’ north after school is over and all.”

“She didn’t tell me that,” you admit. “When did she decide?”

He sighs so deep you can almost feel it in your own chest. 

“Couple weeks ago,” he says. “Guess she got some unofficial job offer for after she graduates, from this research institute in Boston. She’s all excited about it.”

You know Joel is proud. He’s always proud of Sarah. How could he not be? But you also know his heart is breaking right now, the long-established plans for Sarah to come home to Texas, to come home to him after finishing undergrad, suddenly squashed. 

And then there’s you — leaving too — again.

The thought of hurting Joel is overbearing, more so than the thought of hurting yourself. He doesn’t deserve to be so far away from the woman he’s in a relationship with when his own daughter is already out of reach.

You feel selfish, suddenly. 

It plagues your mind for the rest of the day — when you go to a diner after the hike and split a strawberry milkshake the size of your head with Joel — and still, later, when you wander hand-in-hand into a tacky gift shop. 

You try your best to ignore the ache in your chest as you scan the store.

The back wall is stacked top to bottom with cowboy boots of varying colors and styles. There are cowboy hats too, displayed on a long table.

Joel picks up an oversized straw hat, resting it on the top of his head with a laugh. “Looks ridiculous, right?” 

“Somehow, no,” you say. And it’s the truth. You think he’s the only person who could put that thing on and look hot in it. 

He grabs another hat off of the table, a more traditional one — brown leather with a braided band wrapped around the base of the crown. You let him affix it on your head. He steps back to get a good look at you and nods. 

“Looks good. Looks sexy,” he amends. 

“Yeah?” You dip your head in faux greeting, fingers pressed into the front corner of the brim.

He scans over you then, his eyes darkening. It looks like he’s pondering something, the corner of his mouth curving. 

“What?”

He steps closer. Leans down to whisper in your ear. “Think we should get ‘em. Wear ‘em later.”

Your breath pulls. The thought of Joel wearing that and nothing but that underneath you is enough to make you forget your quandaries, temporarily.

“Yeah,” you respond way too quickly. “Let’s get them, Cowboy.”

You watch his entire body tense at the nickname. And then he’s yanking the hat off of you, bringing both to the register in a hurry. 

The house is dark when you get home, bag of Greek takeout in hand.

Joel flicks a light on in the entrance. You squint reflexively, your eyes adjusting as you set the food down on the coffee table in the living room. Joel brings your new hats upstairs, then joins you on the couch. You pull out two styrofoam containers, passing the one with Joel’s name scribbled on it to him and leaning back with yours in your lap. 

“‘m starvin,” he mumbles as he cracks his open, squeezes a wedge of lemon over his rice. 

You eat quickly, something else clearly on both of your minds as you shovel falafel into your mouths. You even forget to turn the tv on. 

When you’re done, you insist you’ll clean up, bringing the trash into the kitchen as Joel disappears upstairs. Once everything is tidied, you re-situate yourself on the couch.

He returns a few minutes later — shirtless, that ridiculous cowboy hat fastened on his head, dark jeans sitting low on his hips. He’s holding your hat in his left hand.

There’s a dull throbbing between your legs. He starts across the room, toward you.

“Joel-”

He cuts you off with a kiss, bracketing you against the cushions, his hat bumping into your head. He pulls it off immediately, like if it’s going to interfere in any way, it’s not worth it. It falls onto the floor somewhere behind him.

Joel pulls at the fabric of your shirt. Your back arches, allowing him to pull it up and off before tossing it aside. His mouth moves from yours, trailing lower, lower, and settling at the column of your throat. He sucks a bruise there, the contact sending your hips bucking off the couch, the need for him to touch you already borderline painful.

And then that voice returns, the one that’s been screaming in your head since last night.

This’ll be the last time for a while. Maybe forever. Last time he touches you like this, kisses you like this. Don’t think about it — don’t. Just enjoy it. Just-

“Joel,” you pant. He stops immediately. Pulls back. 

“What? What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

Tears well in your eyes, blur your vision. You can barely make out the look of concern plastered across Joel’s face as he kneels down in front of you and grips both of your shoulders. 

When you speak, your voice comes out shaky. “No, it’s not — I just.” Your breath catches in your throat.

“What? What is it darlin’?,” he tries, massaging tense muscle under his palms. 

You hadn’t wanted him to see you like this. You feel embarrassed that he has to comfort you like you’re a child who’s just had a nightmare, and not a grown woman with a PhD. You groan. Catch your breath. 

“Fuck. I’m fine,” you try. Joel clearly isn’t buying it. He quirks a brow at you. 

“C’mon baby, talk to me. I wanna help, whatever it is. Let me in — please” 

And you want to, you do, it’s just — you don’t know how to even explain how you’re feeling. 

“This is all so hard,” you start. Joel nods. He wants you to continue. “This whole — situation,” you try. “Being long-distance. It’s just — being here for a whole week and waking up together every morning, having coffee, watching tv at night, like a — fuck — like a real couple — and now I have to go back to normal?”

His face falls.

“Real couple? Is this not real to you?” 

“It is real,” you sob. “It’s too real. That’s why it hurts so fucking much. I just, I can’t —”

“Can’t what?” His voice is quiet. Low.

“Can’t do this. Can’t handle the pain. And it must be hurting you too, Joel. Between me and Sarah—”

“I’m fine,” he barks, suddenly jumping to his feet. He takes a deep breath. “This isn’t about Sarah. This is about us. Do you not want this? Me?” 

Your hands tremble in your lap. “Of course I want you, Joel,” you sniff. “I want you more than anything. But-”

“But not like this. This is too hard.”

You nod weakly. 

He sighs.

“You know you can move here — stay with me.”

You do know. He’s said it so many times before. But you’ve worked way too hard to pack up and start over, to give up your professorship after only three years with the blind hope that you’ll land a new position in Austin. And now you’re mad — infuriated, almost, that he keeps suggesting it.

You scoff. “You know I can’t just give up my life, Joel.” 

“So what, you’re just gonna give up on us, instead?” His voice is strained. 

“I’m not giving up,” you clip, defensively.

“Certainly doesn’t sound like you’re tryin’.”

He stares at the ceiling. You watch as his eyes mist, his concentration palpable as he wills the tears not to fall. Your anger dissipates into guilt. 

This is exactly what you’d feared — breaking his heart. It’s like you can see it fracturing, chipping at the edges. 

“I don’t want to,” you whisper. “I don’t — I don’t know. I just can’t.”

His face contorts. A single tear slips down his cheek, which he wipes away quickly with the back of his hand. “Fuck,” he curses.

You stand from the couch, begin to move cautiously toward him. “Joel, I-”

“Don’t,” he snaps. Throws his hands up defensively. And then he’s turning, heading up the stairs, leaving you standing there in the middle of the living room with a ringing in your ears.

When you climb into bed twenty minutes later, he doesn’t acknowledge you.

You fly home the next day. Joel doesn’t say anything on the drive to the airport. 

Once there, he pulls over to the curb at the drop-off and puts the car in park. You’re not sure what to do — should you kiss him? Tell him you love him? Because you do, so fucking much. You’re just — not sure if he wants to hear that right now. 

He makes the decision for you, cradling your face as he presses a gentle, lingering kiss to your lips. He lets his forehead fall to yours with a sigh, and then he pulls back. 

He doesn’t open your door for you, though. Doesn’t grab your bags from the back when you clamber down from the passenger seat. 

It’s as if he’s saying: I love you, but I’m going to give you space.

You pry open the back door. Pull out your suitcase and rest your new cowboy hat over the handle. You almost wish now that he hadn’t gotten it for you. It’ll just serve as another reminder of everything you’ve left behind once your home. 

“Text me,” he offers once your things are all gathered on the curb. “Let me know when you board, when you’re home safe.”

“Yeah,” you nod. Search his eyes for something. Some indicator that he’s okay. But he’s stoic, his lips set in a straight line. “I will. Promise.”

His mouth opens, like he wants to add something else. But whatever he’s thinking, he decides against saying out loud. Instead he just tells you safe travels, and then he’s pulling the passenger side door closed from the inside.

You stand unmoving. As his truck disappears down the roadway and out of view, a list of all the things you should’ve said rolls through your brain like the end credits of a film.

You send Joel a message when you get home. Let him know you got in safe. You don’t call, like you normally would, because that’s not what he’d asked of you.

Then you climb straight into bed, still in your clothes, and let the tears consume you. You wallow in them for what feels like hours, the natural light in your bedroom gradually sinking into the floorboards. You welcome the nightfall, the way the darkness soothes the pounding in your head, the way it feels like nothing. 

Morning comes before Joel responds. You’re rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, the time on your phone reading 11:09, and the notification from him just below it nearly jolts you: 

Okay. Thanks. 

No love you, no miss you. 

You curse under your breath. 

Why did you have to say anything? Why did you have to ruin this?

The pain of possibly losing Joel for good makes the pain of long distance feel like a papercut. All you want is to go back in time, take back everything you said, tell Joel you love him a million-and-one times. Anything to undo this.

You fleetingly consider quitting your job, handing in your resignation letter the second you get to campus tomorrow. You’ll take your unpacked suitcase and head right back to the airport.

You don’t let the temptation win. But it lingers, sits at the top of your chest like a threat. Like if he asks one more time — you’ll do it.

He doesn’t, though. In fact, he doesn’t say much of anything — which you should’ve expected — but it still stings. You hadn’t broken up, not technically, so you’re stuck in this weird limbo, one in which neither of you wants to talk about what happened in Austin.

Instead, you text each other once a day or so — weird, surface-level messages, ones you’d send to an acquaintance, not someone who literally knows you inside and out.

Finally above 60°, you say, on Monday morning, attached to a screenshot of your weather app. 

Your walk to campus must’ve been nice today, he replies.

And the next day:

Guy at the job site today was talking about that show you like. 

Parks & Rec?!

Yeah, that one.

It’s barely enough to keep you going, to keep you sane. You feel pitiful, looking forward to Joel’s text-of-the-day like it’s a re-up of your drug of choice. Better than heroin, you tell yourself.

Two weeks pass with no phone calls and minimal messages. It’s 5:45 pm on a rainy Tuesday when you sit at your dining room table with a pile of papers to grade in front of you, some low-fi playlist on in the background, unable to focus.

Because Joel hasn’t texted you all day.

Usually he’d send something by now. And it’s not like you hadn’t texted him — in fact, you’d double-texted, one message sent this morning about how you burned your tongue on your coffee, and another after your final class of the day when you’d seen he still hadn’t responded:

Busy day? 

Your fingers hover over the keyboard, the gears in your mind whirring as you debate whether or not to send the words punctuated by a flickering cursor on your screen:

Can I call you later?

He’ll probably say no. Or worse, continue to ignore you. Maybe this is it — maybe weeks of dancing around residual tension have driven him to call it quits. He’ll block you, and then you’ll never hear from him again. 

The thought has bile rising up your throat.

You close out of the app and put your phone down before stalking over to the living room, letting yourself fall stomach-first onto the couch. You stuff your face into a throw pillow and scream.

You almost don’t hear it over your muffled yells — the rapping at your front door. 

You still, lifting your head from the pillow. Listening intently. It comes again — rapraprap.

Ugh, you groan, lifting yourself onto your elbows, then your feet. You pull your cardigan tighter over your front. Drag your feet across the hardwood to the entranceway, wondering who the fuck could be at your door on a Tuesday evening, unannounced. 

Is it the property manager?, you speculate as you reach the door. Was there an issue with my rent?

Your fingers wind around the handle apprehensively. You peer through the peephole and your heart plummets into your stomach.

Because Joel is standing right outside your apartment.

You wonder if you’re seeing things. If you’ve gone full-on hysterical. But it’s him, it’s unmistakably him — in his favorite flannel and his workwear jacket, which is smattered in rain spots. His gaze is trained on the floor by his feet and his hands are fidgeting at his sides — just like the first time you met him.

You throw the door open. Joel’s eyes shoot up. For a long moment, you just stare at each other, waiting for the other to say something — do something. 

When your breath pulls, he rushes forward and crashes his lips into yours. He backs you into your apartment, letting the door slam shut behind you. 

You barely hear it, still registering that Joel is here, he’s here and he’s kissing the hell out of you. And just minutes ago, you’d been sulking on your couch, convinced it was over between you two. 

You feel dizzy. You pull back, only because you fear if you don’t, you’ll literally topple over. Joel’s breathing is heavy — it matches yours.

“What are you — fuck — what are you doing here, Joel?”

“I need to talk to you,” he pants. 

“Could’ve called,” you say, as if there’s any universe in which you’d prefer that. 

You lead him to the living room. Fall back onto the couch. He sits down next to you, taking both of your hands in his. You get a good look at him for the first time since he’d barreled into your apartment, and he looks wrecked.

“Are you okay?,” you ask. 

His response isn’t much of an answer. “’m selling my house.”

Your head spins. “You — what?” 

“Listed it last week,” he says. “Already got a couple offers.” 

“Oh,” you blink. “Okay.”

“‘m gonna move up here.”

Oh. 

Your heart feels like it’s going to beat straight out of your chest. You’re — speechless.

“I put an offer on a place,” he continues. “‘ts a ranch with some land. Room for sheep. I’m sellin’ my half of the business to Tommy. Leavin’ Texas.”

He exhales. His eyes search yours with tangible desperation. “Say somethin’.”

“I — fuck, Joel,” you breathe. “You’re — when? How?”

“Found the place a couple days ago. ‘ts about thirty minutes Southeast of here. Just went and saw it in person. Sent my offer letter before I came here.”

“Right,” you nod. “But Joel, you can’t just leave-”

“Sure I can,” he interrupts. “Nothin’ there for me anymore. Not Sarah, not you.”

A beat passes. And then he adds:

“I can’t lose you.”

Your heart swells in your chest as you imagine Joel this past week, making all of these plans to rectify the distance between you, to be sure he doesn’t lose you. And still — you’re not sure if you deserve it after the way you hurt him.

“You — you still want me, even after what I said?” 

“Darlin’,” he says, in that honey-sweet drawl. “I love you. There’s nothin’ you could do to make me not want you. You were right. This isn’t feasible. We can’t do this forever.”

“Joel,” you sigh, “I just — you’re sure you want this?”

“I want you,” he says plainly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world — like nothing else matters. “And you need to be here. So it’s a no-brainer”

The rain picks up outside. It patters against the windows.

“Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll leave,” he says. “I’ll retract my offer. Go back to Texas.”

“I do Joel — want you here more than anything, love you more than anything. But-”

“Good.” He cups your face in his hands. You stare into his eyes, your future.

“It’s settled, then,” he says, pressing his forehead to yours, his fingers twisting in the fabric of your shirt. “I’m movin’ to Vermont.”

“This is crazy,” you laugh. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you more,” he beams. “No gettin’ rid of me now.”

You smile so wide your cheeks hurt. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Cowboy.” 

end notes: ty again for reading! pls consider reblogging and leaving a comment if you liked it <3

tagging everyone who expressed interest in reading a part 2 (lmk if you don't want to be included going forward): @anoverwhelmingdin, @joelalorian, @lol-im-done, @bensonispunk, @sereindreams, @survivingandenduring, @stevie75, @vee-bees-blog, @brittmb115, @casssiopeia, @bbyanarchist, @janaispunk, @barbellpedro

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel x reader #pedro pascal as joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #fiiyb

[an-ambivalent]

Reunited [Yandere! Miguel O’Hara]

Synopsis: Two souls who have once lost one another, find themselves reunited. It reignites the passion, the love, and the lust. For a moment, the longing and despair disappears and everything becomes okay again. You feel okay again. But like the stars that become supernova, the passion, the lust, and the facade of  love burns up. You realise all too late that your new Miguel is nothing like your old one. 

Warnings: As this is yandere fiction, this deals with behaviours  that can be uncomfortable and triggering to read. Read at your own risk. This work is purely fictional, I do not condone this behaviour irl. By clicking the ‘read more/keep reading’ you are consenting to read this at your discretion.

PSA: idk much about the multiverse or marvel  other than whatever is shown in ATSV. So if “interdimensional” stuff isn’t accurate, well, idrc.  Also, not really proof read. We die like men -  Happy reading!

It was a momentary glimpse through the an interdimensional portal when each person saw the other again. Like a typical day, you had saved your city from whatever disaster was happening once more. In the beginning, your heart was embedded in the work you did as a superhero; the thrill of chases and extraordinary powers were exhilarating, and the praise and feelings of accomplishing good things of saving people inspired you to keep doing what you were. But out of all the people you saved, there was one couldn’t - your fiancé, Miguel O'Hara. 

The agony of losing your closest person had been unbearable. The absence of his presence, reminiscing in your memories with him in everything: your shared home, his clothes, the lack of affection you now found yourself with - everything, it all continued to tighten that knot in your chest. And no matter how much time passed, you weren’t healing. You could not accept the reality. The grief felt like it was continuously swallowing you whole until there was going to be nothing left, until you were going to be nothing but a shell of your former self. And just before you were about to lose all hope, there was a small disturbance in the fabric of space near you, until it had morphed into an portal that showed you another place. There you saw him: your Miguel, who looked just as dead in the eyes, and a hollow shell like you, like he had gone through the same grief you had. 

But life is cruel because just before either of you could call out to the other, the portal had closed in an instant. You had been ripped away from his grasp for the second time, and Miguel was not going to have that. 

It wasn’t difficult for him to track you down. After all, he had access to the multiverses. He had already checked multiple versions of Earth where you had never existed in the first place. In the others that you had, you met the same tragic fate that his own [Name] had. So to find an you, who was perfectly safe and alive, and definitely an anomaly, he was going to have you. For the sake of multiverse, the best decision was to take you from your dimension, and keep you beside him, isolated from the world, so you were safe and he could maintain monitoring of your influence on the multiverse. 

Much to his pleasure, Miguel did not even have to try to get you to fall for him. You had lost a version of him, and were yearning and desperate for him just like how he was yearning and desperate for you. Immediately, both of you felt like you were restarting your relationship where it had been left off: the deep kisses and clutching onto each other until your nails dug in each other’s skin; gentle whispers of ‘I missed you’ and ‘I love you so much’ hushed over and over again in between the lip locking when oxygen was desperately needed and clothes would start to come off. 

But eventually, the reunion perceived through the rose tinted glasses came off and you finally noticed how you were never able to leave the place Miguel and you lived in. You hadn’t met anyone else, you only ever saw Miguel. You rationalised to yourself that he was just being protective and cautious of your safety because he had lost you; you may have been the same way if you hadn’t known that the current Miguel had his own powers and was capable of looking after himself. So, you just had to let him know that you also had powers and could look after yourself. Surely then, you would have your freedom? 

It was during the dark hours when you were once again engaged in intimacy with Miguel. Your room was dimply lit and you were both half bare. You withered on the cool bedsheets beneath you as Miguel gently nipped and sucked on that  perfect spot between the back of your ear and neck, toes curling, fingers pulling on his messed up hair, and breathy and sensual gasps leaving your lips. 

“Can we, ah, p-please talk?” You whispered, while you shifted one hand to naked chest, and half heartedly tried to push him to create some distance. 

“There’s nothing to say right now, mi amor. There’s only our love right now,” He responded easily, and went to kiss you on your lips. But, you moved your head away, and this time, pushed him away firmly to create the distance you wanted. You prepped yourself mentally to bring up your concerns, and in doing so, failed to noticed the frown that Miguel now wore due to your rejection. 

“I just want to reassure you that nothing is going to happen to me, just like I know you’ll be safe too because you’re Spiderman.” You said softly, and affectionately swept his hair back with your fingers. Miguel grabbed and kissed the palm of your other hand, while raising an eyebrow. 

“I know nothing is going to happen to you, not again. I’m going to keep you safe. If anyone tries to hurt you, I will kill them.” He stated plainly. Then, he leaned down to kiss you once more, but you moved your head again so he kissed your cheek instead. 

His words had made your stomach churn, but nonetheless, you tried to remain optimistic. You smiled at him weakly. “No I meant that unlike my first Miguel, you have powers, so I know you are capable and strong. And unlike your original [Name], I have powers so you don’t need to worry-” 

“I am not going to worry. It doesn’t matter that you powers, you’re not going to go anywhere else. You will remain here, where I know where you are all the time.” He said, and your eyes widened in surprise. Just when he was about to try to kiss you for the third time, feeling like he was near the end of his wits, you started to use your strength to pull away. 

“What do you mean I’m going to remain here?! You’re not the boss of me! Let me go!” You shrieked. 

Miguel growled in displeasure. “Stop your idiocy before I make you regret it.” He hissed, and his claws dug into your skin, and drew blood as a warning. Although it hurt, it wasn’t painful as his words were. He had threatened you. The Miguel you knew would have never threatened you. 

“Make me regret it?! Who the hell do you think you are?! You’re not my Miguel.” You responded indignantly. As you tried to pull away once again, Miguel didn’t let you. Instead, his grip tightened to the point where you finally cried out in pain. 

The sclera of his eyes was starting to red and he leaned down just inches away from your face, baring his fangs threateningly at you. 

“I was never your Miguel and you were never my [Name]. But we’re all that’s left of each other, and I’d damn the whole world before I lose you again. I’ll show you exactly the Miguel I am. And I’ll continue to show you who I am, until you finally understand that you now belong to me.” 

#yandere x reader #miguel x reader #yandere atsv #yandere miguel o'hara #spiderverse x reader #yandere miguel #ambivalent writes #yandere spiderman

[sfehvn]

new religion part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Rating: M (18+ minors DNI) Word count: 2,049 Characters: soft!ascended!Astarion x fem!au!Tav

━─━────༺༻────━─━

  Sunlight filters through the cracks of a haphazardly covered window, illuminating your soft features under the warm glow. Astarion watches the rise and fall of your restful breathing, decidedly one of his favorite pastimes. More seasons have come and gone since he first set eyes on you and he’s baffled that you’re still the only thing on the forefront of his mind. He doesn’t foresee that ever-changing at this point. He recalls his emotional battles; the grappling of newfound feelings. Astarion hadn’t felt a beautiful thing in centuries until you. Until he longed to touch you, to shield you from the very things he’d forced upon other less fortunate souls. You’d slowly but surely become home to him.

  You had been sheltered in his manor for days following your father’s death. Beautiful reminders of your presence blessed the cold halls of his lair. He spared no expense upon stocking a wardrobe specifically for you. Beautiful dresses of the finest linens, silk, and velvet in colors reminiscent of summer overflowed the closets and dressers. He would hire a seamstress once you were well enough to allow you the creation of your wares, but for now, this would have to do. He had practically sold out every shop in town that carried luxury clothing just to ensure you’d be able to make a selection that genuinely suited you.

  As much as he urged you to make use of his many servants, you refused. Even in your broken capacity, you insisted on doing most things yourself. At which point Astarion would contend he does whatever task at hand on your behalf. He couldn’t comprehend how you could be so careful of every being’s spirit, even when he holds you as you weep. You would cling to him like a lifeline; as if he were going to disappear. Your grief had driven you deeper into his embrace. While this was precisely what he was plotting he couldn't bear to see you so broken. A light snuffed out by the cruel ways of nature. He would spend every waking moment in this bedroom consoling you if it meant he had even the tiniest chance of reigniting that light.

  Astarion’s eyes shift to the opening door of the bed chamber. A servant stood with a tray of various breakfast foods, standing in the doorway as she waited for him to summon her in further. This had been the routine every morning; she would wake you with a hot meal, a bath, and fresh clothing. This time, though, would be different. He gestured to the desk on the far side of the room and waved her away once the tray had been set down. She leaves without a question, closing the door on her way out. 

  It was time he had determined. With your younger sisters in the care of your brother and his wife and your father’s funeral being completed the day before, this was as good a time as any. He had hidden his true nature from your attention for far too long. You had proven to him that you were serious about staying so he no longer had any viable excuses in his mind to continue the lie. He recognized he should have told you sooner and there was a pang of shame that he hadn’t yet. Astarion wouldn’t dare admit it but he had enjoyed the normalcy you had brought into his life. There was a small part of him that was clinging to it.

  He collected the tray of food from the desk and slowly approached your sleeping form. He hated waking you but you had been having a hard time keeping any food down, so he had been very strict on you with mealtimes. If your body allowed you even a piece of toast, that was a victory to him. Once he’s beside you, he sits on the edge of the bed closest to you. A gentle hand reaches out to shake your arm gently, and in return your eyes flutter open. You attempt to shut them again, not ready to be woken but he persists. “You need to eat something, my darling.” His words are a gentle beckoning and you allow your eyes to open once more. 

  “Okay.” You mumble in that sleepy voice Astarion had grown to love along with every other part of you. You push yourself up until your back is against the headboard, looking over the tray that had been placed in your lap. You didn’t bother arguing about the sheer amount of food before you anymore. It was futile. While most of it would go uneaten, he didn’t care as long as there was something that you would eat. 

  He watches you silently, preparing himself to come clean once you’ve gotten a whole egg and some potatoes down. Your cheeks used to grow red under his gaze, but now it was just par for the course with him and his stare. “We need to talk, Tav.”

  Your veins run cold and he immediately picks up the quickening of your pulse. You look from the food to his face apprehensively. “Have I done something wrong?” Your mind raced; had he grown tired of you already? Perhaps he couldn’t take you being so utterly depressing anymore.

  “Gods no, my treasure.” Astarion assures, taking your hand into his own. “You’re perfect. Always my perfect angel; this is about, well,” There’s a pause in his words. “Me.”

  You nod after a moment, once you’re entirely convinced your heart isn’t going to be shattered by whatever he has to say. “Alright. What is it, love?” Those honied words, he adores when you call him that.

  “I haven’t been entirely truthful with you. For that, I am sorry. I want to be though. I want you to know me. Truly know me.” You remain silent and he tried to read your face, but you have not faltered. You look at him with those same loving eyes and it gives him the courage to continue. “I’m not that great of a person. In fact, some would argue me being a person at all. It is ridiculous if you ask me, but to each their own, I suppose.” He’s babbling, beating around the bush. He can’t get himself to say it, it’s as if the words are banished from his tongue.

  “Well, that’s just silly, Astarion.” You cut off his nervous bumbling, shaking your head as you move the tray aside. “You’re the most incredible person I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, let alone loving.”

  “No, Tav, listen.” He says sternly, his nervous dissolve fading as he finally feels the willpower take hold. If he was going to say it, it had to be now before he lost the resolve. “I’m a vampire.” 

  Your breath catches in your throat, and your face goes blank. There’s a beat of silence and he can visibly see the wheels turning in your mind as you mull over the information he’d given you. “You’ve… You’ve hurt people?” Your fingers pick at the threads of the comforter. You can’t believe you’d missed it, a testament to just how small-minded you indeed were. The sharp canines, the perfect puncture marks on his neck. All of the signs were there and you stupidly couldn’t recognize any of them; but also, how did he walk in the sun? How did he share meals with you?

  He nods, “Yes.”

  You nod slowly, refusing to look away from the blanket covering your legs. “Have you thought about hurting me?” 

  He hesitates and a lie almost leaves his lips but he stops himself. He had told you he would be truthful. “Yes.”

  Your heart is sputtering in your chest but you’re not afraid. This was the man you loved, the one who had shown you kindness and showered you in a love you weren’t sure you’d ever get to experience. “Why haven’t you?” He’d had plenty of opportunity and time to do something, yet you were still here. Alive and better with him than you would be without him.

  Astarion doesn’t hesitate and is relieved when he reaches for your hand without you refusing him. “Because I love you, Tav. That has always been the truth. From the moment I first saw you, I loved you. I haven’t loved a thing since my mortal life, and even that I can’t recall. It would be a cruel existence without you, one that I certainly never want to see. I fought it, you know. I thought if I kept away from you long enough these feelings,” A pause, “My devotion to you would leave my being. I had considered hurting you, but it didn’t take me long to figure out that my still heart would only yearn more. I was destined to see you that day. We were fated for each other. I feel it in my bones when I look at you. I feel it in my chest when we’re apart. Every terrible thing I’ve done has led me to you. I know you feel it, too.”

  You look at your dainty hand in his much larger one, his words making you take in a sharp breath of air. He was right, you did feel it. The electricity when he touched you; the comfort only he could provide you with. You wanted to be afraid, that would make sense, but you weren’t. Astarion could also see it, but the tension remained thick as he waited for you to speak. You’re unsure of how to respond, your eyes darted the planes of his face as if you’d find the answer within him. He had given you love and adoration you didn’t believe was ever in the cards for you. He held you and wiped your tears every time you cried; which happened substantially lately. As much as you wanted to be angry or frightened; you were not. You could never be afraid of him.

  “Okay.”

  “That's- that’s it then? Okay?” Whether it was apprehension or confusion in his voice, you weren’t sure. “Well, I have to say I was expecting more questions. Definitely didn’t anticipate an ‘okay’.”

  “You are the same you—the same man who turned the grounds of his property into an ethereal garden solely for me. The same man who allowed me grace when I didn’t consider how my decisions would affect you. The one who’s taken care of me after-” You stopped yourself, the grief of losing your father like a hot coal in your chest. “Are you not?” You question despite already knowing the answer. He nods and gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. You free your hand from his and take his face into your hands, resting each palm on either cheek. “Then there is nothing you can tell me that will make me love you any less.” Your mind wandered briefly to what his past would indeed entail; heinous acts, no doubt. Yet, you didn’t cower. You held his gaze, faces mere inches apart.

  He closes the gap between you two, pressing his lips to your own. Instinctively, your arms move to wrap around his neck as you melt under his touch. He turned you into putty; moldable to whatever he wanted you to be. His and his alone. He pushes you into the mattress and swiftly knocks the food tray from the bed. “I’ll love you until the end of time. I swear it.” He speaks into your lips. The words are muffled but they were not lost on you.

  Of course, he would have a much too great ask of you soon enough. You were destined to spend eternity with him, after all. He would delay that for another day, however. He would spend his day worshipping every inch of his holy altar: your body. You hadn’t shunned or pushed him away; that was enough victory for one day in his mind. You weren’t afraid of him. You welcomed him into your arms once more, into your body. He would continue to show you, sun up or down, that he was true to his word. His hungry hands explore you, reverent mouth paying particular attention to your neck. How easily he could sink his fangs into you; instead, he leaves tender kisses in his mouth’s wake.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #bg3 #x reader #ascended astarion #ascended!astarion x reader #reader #tav #ascended!astarion x tav

[worth-the-chaos]

Adventures in Babysitting - Steve Harrington x female!reader - Chapter 4

Chapter Summary: Looking for Dart isn’t easy, but it gives you and Steve a lot of time to have a heart to heart, as you slowly start to realize your feelings for one another.

Content Warning: fluff, mutual pining, slow burn, upside down scary shit, boys being stupid

Word Count: 6.5k

Author’s Note: This part sticks closely to the original series, but there will be a lot more originality in the next part! I know it probably isn’t super fun to read what you’ve watched on the show, but for me this has been the ultimate rewatch fic writing experience, which I have greatly enjoyed, so if you’re looking to reminisce about stranger things, boy is this the fic for you ;)

Series Masterlist | Part 3 | Next Part

***

Steve woke up first, and nearly panicked when he realized that you were curled up in his arms, pressed flush against his chest. At some point in the night, you both must have rolled over to face each other, and now his arms were wrapped around your waist, one hand dangerously close to your ass and one of his legs rested in between yours. He wasn’t sure what to do and his mind was screaming at him to move before you could wake up and see the compromising position the two of you were in, but his heart was screaming at him to stay.

He pulled away slightly to look at you, his heart beating wildly in his chest. The worry lines that were usually etched into your features were gone, and it was the first time he could think of that you truly looked at peace. You were stunning, there was no question about it. I could get used to this, Steve thought, but then quickly pushed it aside. He felt guilty; he wasn’t even sure if Nancy and him were actually officially broken up and he was already starting to feel things for someone else. Though if he was really being honest with himself, he’d been feeling this way about you for a while.

He carefully untangled himself from you, cursing himself for not holding onto you for just a little bit longer, but he knew that it was the right thing to do. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable, so he slipped out of bed and quietly exited the room, making his way down to the kitchen.

You groaned when you finally woke up, light filtering in through the window. The bed was empty, and you tried to push aside your disappointment as you checked the clock on Steve’s beside table. It was 8:00 which meant you had a couple of hours before Steve and you had to leave to pick up Dustin. You wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, unready to face the tribulations that inevitably lied ahead. Knowing that wasn’t an option, you got out of bed.

Upon turning the corner into the massive kitchen, you were met with the sight of a pajama clad Steve Harrington, standing over the kitchen stove while he cooked pancakes. He turned once he heard your footsteps and saw you, your eyes still sleepy as you drowned in his clothes that were way too big for you. He felt his face heat up at the sight of you, but if you asked, he would blame it on the hot stove.

“Pancake?” He asked, the one on the pan finally done cooking. You simply nodded and he plated it and walked towards the kitchen table, setting it down at a seat before pulling your chair out for you.

“I’m honestly surprised that you know how to cook anything,” you teased. It was pretty baffling to see the boy who had previously been a complete ass standing in a kitchen making pancakes with the most wild case of bedhead you’d ever seen. “Or that you’re cooking at all considering the day we have ahead of us,” you added, mind beginning to focus on the more important things.

“Well, my parents are gone most of the time so I have to fend for myself a lot. Which, you know, sucks, but it also means I kinda can do whatever the hell I want, so I guess it balances itself out, doesn’t it?” Steve took the seat across from you, sitting down with his own pancake.

“I guess,” you agreed. You both ate your breakfast quietly, trying not to think about how domestic all of this was. I’m supposed to be thinking about the damn demogorgon, not playing house with Steve, you thought, annoyed with yourself for enjoying this all a little too much. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to wear today,” you spoke up, interrupting the blissful quiet of the meal you were sharing.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if I wear my clothes from yesterday, Dustin’s going to make…assumptions. And I certainly can’t wear these,” you added, giggling and flailing your arms to demonstrate how long the sleeves were, “but I also can’t go home to change because my parents aren’t going to let me leave so easy when they find out I didn’t come home last night and now some boy they don’t know is dropping me off for a pit stop.”

Steve was quiet for a bit as he contemplated all of this. “Well, for starters,” he said through a mouthful of pancakes, “I think you look fabulous, but I can see how in a defensive situation, the miles of extra fabric would not be the best. You can raid my mom’s closet? She might have some stuff that fits you better? She also has a shit ton of stuff she definitely doesn’t wear anymore,” He offered. You felt weird about it, but given it was basically your only option, you nodded in agreement.

Steve brought you into his parents’ room, pointing out the clothes he knew his mom wouldn’t miss. You settled on a pair of jeans, a white turtleneck, and a beige windbreaker. Simple enough. You swiftly changed in the bathroom and took a look at yourself in the mirror. These clothes were definitely nicer and more expensive than the ones you normally wore. You felt good in them, and they fit your body nicely, much more well tailored than your thrifted outfits. You put your hair into a low ponytail and shook out your arms, bouncing from foot to foot trying to psych yourself up for this. At least if I die today, I’ll die wearing nicer clothes.

You and Steve loaded his trunk with things you might need: the nail bat, a few knives, a golf club, a can of gasoline, as well as a few buckets full of raw meat. If you were going to catch this thing, you were going to have to bait it.

***

“So, what are the odds you think we’re really going to find this thing?” Steve asked as the two of you drove towards Dustin’s house. To be completely honest, he thought that this attempt was most likely futile. Hawkins was small, but not that small. Hell, by now it might not even be in Hawkins anymore.

“I’d say slim to none. But we still have to try. I can’t in good conscience not find it. I don’t think I’d ever be able to sleep again if I knew it was just out there, roaming Hawkins,” you shuddered, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Yeah, I don’t sleep too well anymore. Not after last year,” Steve admitted. He hated being vulnerable, but it didn’t feel so bad when he was being that way around you.

“I know what you mean. The amount of nightmares I’ve had about that…that thing is just truly astounding” you sighed, giving Steve an empathetic look.

Steve didn’t have the heart to tell you that his nightmares weren’t scary because he was face to face with the demogorgon. They were terrifying because they always ended with you getting hurt. Every single one of them was just the two of you in that damn living room, but this time he didn’t have the bat. It was just you, pinned to the floor helpless, and him unable to move. Unable to save you.

“Yep,” he replied instead, “I didn’t have any last night though.” It wasn’t a lie, and he felt his heart race as he said it. Admitting that seemed risky, but at this point he didn’t care. With the amount of shit you both always seemed to be in, holding things back seemed riskier.

“Me neither,” you added, voice quiet but sincere.

It wasn’t long before you pulled up to the Henderson household, Dustin hurrying towards the car. He quickly got in the backseat, clearly eager to get this all over with. You couldn’t really blame him, as you felt the exact same way.

“We have shit in the back of the car so we don’t need to stop for supplies. Where are we going first?” You cut right to the chase.

“I was thinking we could walk the train tracks. It’ll be easier to cover more ground that way, and it’s secluded enough that we won’t look batshit crazy,” Dustin replied. Honestly, you had to give the boy credit, he was pretty damn smart. Steve began to pull away, headed towards the park. He knew one of the hiking trails ran parallel to the train tracks and you’d only have to deviate from it slightly in order to reach them.

“Why didn’t you pick me up first?” Dustin suddenly asked.

“What?” Steve replied.

“I said, why didn’t you pick me up first? My house is between yours and y/n’s. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Does it matter?” Steve returned his question with a question, gripping the steering wheel tighter as his shoulders tensed. You cleared your throat and looked out the window, avoiding eye contact at all costs. Your body language gave you both away, and Steve could see Dustin’s eyes light up in the rearview mirror as he connected the dots.

“Woah! Wait a minute. You didn’t have to pick her up because she stayed at your house!” Dustin exclaimed, letting out a laugh and feeling like a genius.

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Steve shot back, clearly angry. You buried your face in the palm of your hand. If Steve just wouldn’t react so huge, then Dustin might second guess himself, but no, that was too complex a reaction for the boy to ever consider.

“You’re lying! Haha! I knew it!” Dustin yelled out, pointing at your look of defeat. Maybe I could have reacted a bit differently too, you thought sheepishly, flashing Steve a look that said “I’m sorry.”

“Dustin, would you just kindly shut the fuck up,” Steve fumed, trying to pay attention to the road.

“Wait a minute, did you guys have sex?”

“NO!” You both shouted in unison, and Steve slammed on the breaks, the inertia causing your seatbelt to lock as you all jolted forward. Steve very aggressively put the car in park and whipped around, putting his left hand on the back of your seat to fully twist his body towards the boy in the backseat.

“Listen here, dipshit. It wasn’t fucking like that, she slept in the guest bedroom because I didn’t feel good about leaving her home alone while your little science experiment is running all over this goddamn town. Ask one more question about it, and I swear you’ll have bigger concerns than this Upside Down bullshit,” Steve threatened. Dustin put his hands up, signaling that he would back off, and Steve nodded as he turned back around, taking a deep breath, and putting the car back in drive.

You were a little shocked by his outburst. The old Steve would have bragged about the fact that you had shared a bed with him, so you were a bit surprised that he lied, placing you in the guest room in his explanation to Dustin. Maybe he was embarrassed about it, you thought as your heart sank a little in your chest.

You finally made it to the park, Steve parking haphazardly by a trailhead as you all exited the BMW. You handed each boy a pair of rubber gloves from your backpack, slipping a pair on yourself before passing the boys each a bucket of raw meat. Steve threw on his backpack, nail bat sticking out of it. Your backpack looked similar, but packed with a golf club instead. You also had found a hunting knife that belonged to Mr. Harrington as you both had scoured the house for anything that was or could be turned into a weapon, and it sat sheathed on your right hip underneath your windbreaker.

Suddenly, Lucas’ voice was ringing out from Dustin’s walkie talkie, “Dustin! This is Lucas, do you copy? Dustin!”

“Well, well, well, look who it is?”

“Sorry, man, my sister turned it off.”

“Well, when you were having sister problems, Dart grew again, he escaped, and I’m pretty sure he’s a baby demogorgon,” Dustin fumed.

“Wait, what?”

“I’ll explain later, just meet me, Steve, and y/n at the old junkyard,” Dustin informed him.

“Steve?!”

“And bring your binoculars and wrist rocket.”

“Steve Harrington?!” Lucas emphasized his question again, still clearly in disbelief that Dustin was hanging out with that asshole. You couldn’t help but laugh. Steve rolled his eyes.

“Alright, let’s go,” he chimed in, ready for Dustin to end his dumb conversation with his friend. Why can’t Lucas be confused as to why y/n’s here too? Why does it always have to be me?

“Just be there, stat! Over and out,” Dustin ended the discussion, putting the walkie talkie back in his pocket.

It took a second for you to finally find the train tracks, having to hike about a mile and a half before you actually were able to see them. You were glad it was still early on a Sunday, so no one was out hiking to see the three kids who definitely looked like they did not hang out together on a regular basis with bright yellow gloves and bait buckets. There were some questions you just couldn’t answer.

So there the three of you were, walking the train tracks and dropping small chucks of raw meat behind you like sailors chumming the water for sharks. You tried not to think about it as the three of you made conversation to pass the time, beginning with you forcing Dustin to explain himself.

“Alright, so let me get this straight,” Steve spoke up after his explanation, “you kept something that you knew was probably dangerous in order to impress a girl…who you just met?”

“Okay, that is grossly oversimplifying things,” Dustin replied. You were walking in a line, Dustin leading, Steve in the middle, and you taking up the rear. You were glad that this arrangement allowed you to emote freely, the boys unable to see you.

“Why would a girl like some nasty slug anyway?” You chimed in, speaking on behalf of females across the globe who weren’t looking for boys to sweep them off their feet by showing them some trashcan residing tadpole that likes nougat.

“An inter dimensional slug? Because it’s awesome, duh. And I’m a little disappointed that you wouldn’t be excited about that y/n, considering you’re like a complete nerd.”

You scoffed in disbelief. “I’m not a complete nerd.”

“Uh yeah. You are. You’ve babysat me for a whole year now and all you do is homework. Even over the summer. I’m not even that nerdy!” Dustin exclaimed.

“I mean, the kid’s got a point y/n. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you have fun…like ever,” Steve added. You gaped at him, unable to believe that he would take Henderson’s side. These motherfuckers were ganging up on you, and you wouldn’t have that.

“That is so not true! I went to that dumbass party you invited me to,” you reminded him. Dustin’s ears perked up at this, as he slowly turned, looking past Steve and narrowing his eyes at you. So Steve had been the one that invited you to the Halloween party. You realized your slip up and gave Dustin a look that you hoped was threatening enough for him to keep his mouth shut.

“Anyway, regardless of whether or not she thought it was cool—which she didn’t—I just…I don’t know, I just think you’re trying way too hard,” Steve refocused the conversation, not digging the obvious but silent argument the two of you were having that he was not privy to.

“Well, not everyone can have your perfect hair, Steve,” Dustin grumbled.

“It’s not about the hair man. The key with girls is just…just acting like you don’t care.”

“Even if you do?”

“Yeah, exactly, it drives them nuts,” Steve replied as if it was the simplest thing in the world. You slowed down your strides. Steve continued to make it abundantly clear to you that he cared…like a whole hell of a lot. In some ways, you were starting to confuse all of this for interest, but maybe you were wrong; maybe he did truly just want to be friends. You bent down and retied your shoes trying to put some distance between you and the boys, not wanting them to see how let down you felt. The boys noticed, and started to slow their steps, but you shooed them ahead, letting them know you’d be fine. Steve hesitantly obliged, following Dustin who had already started back down the tracks.

“Then what?” Dustin asked.

“Then you just wait until—“ Steve turned making sure you were out of earshot, not quite wanting you to hear him talk about how he used to pick up women. “Uh, until you feel it,” Steve finished.

“Feel what?” Geez, did this kid ever stop asking fucking questions.

“It’s like before it’s gonna storm, you know? You can’t see it but you can feel it, like this uh…electricity, you know?” Steve searched for the right words to explain it to Dustin. He figured a metaphor would be better, just in case you came within earshot again.

“Oh, like in the electromagnetic field when the clouds in the atmosphere—“

“No, no, no, no, no, like a…like a sexual electricity,” Steve connected the dots for him, “you feel that, and then you make your move.”

“So that’s when you kiss her?” Dustin asked innocently.

“No, woah, woah whoa! Slow down, Romeo…sure, okay, some girls want you to be aggressive right away, strong, hot and heavy, I don’t know, like…like a lion,” he continued to speak in metaphors, “but others you gotta be slow, stealth, like a…like a ninja.”

“What type is y/n,” Dustin asked.

Steve was thrown off by the question, but answered it anyway, “y/n’s different. She’s different than the other girls,” Steve said quietly as he looked over his shoulder, you were still trailing several paces behind, and for once he was glad. He didn’t usually like it when you were out of his sight…it was too dangerous, but right now it was nice to speak freely.

“Yeah, she is pretty special I guess,” Dustin agreed. Not many girls would have fought like hell for some random kid they babysat. You were probably one of the coolest people he knew…even if you did do a lot of homework.

“Yeah. Yeah, she is,” Steve sighed, still unsure of what the hell he was supposed to do about that. His love life was a complete shit show, but he was hoping that maybe by the end of all of this it wouldn’t be.

“But that’s the thing…this girl is special too, you know? It’s just like...something about her.”

“Woah, woah, woah. You’re not falling in love with this girl are you?” Steve asked, judgment and concern painted across his features.

“You’re not falling in love with y/n, are you?” Dustin shot back.

“Touché,” Steve replied. He looked back at you again. You had bent down to clear a branch out of the tracks, tossing it aside. Standing up and brushing your hair out of your face with your forearm, avoiding touching your skin with the rubber glove. “Well, don’t. She’ll just go breaking your heart and you’re way too young for that shit,” he added, turning away from you. Dustin hung his head down, and Steve remembered what it was like to be that age. He was never unpopular like Dustin was, but he remembered how awkward it was to be in middle school.

He sighed. “Fabergé organics,” he said pointing to his hair, “use the shampoo and the conditioner and when its damp—not wet, okay, damp—you do four puffs of the Farrah Fawcett spray.”

“Farrah Fawcett spray?” Dustin asked, trying and failing to hold back his laughter.

“Yeah, Farrah Fawcett. You tell anyone that I told you that and your ass is grass, you’re dead Henderson. You understand that?” Steve stopped, pointing a gloved finger in Dustin’s face.

“Are you threatening my kid?” The boys turned as you shouted, watching you jog towards them to catch up.

“Yes, yes I was,” Steve owned it, selling the threat, while Dustin stared a little wide eyed at him, gulping before nodding in agreement. You continued on, but you slowed a bit as you noticed a yellow flag sticking out on the side of the trail, marking a tree that’s trunk was black with rot. You felt a sinking feeling in your stomach, as you’d never seen anything quite like it…and someone was keeping tabs on it too, which was equally, if not more unsettling.

“Y/n? Are you coming?” Dustin asked, the impatience of his age showing.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry,” you muttered, shaking away the thought as you caught up with the boys.

***

You made it to the junkyard, each of you pouring the remaining chunks of raw meat in a pile in a clearing.

“I said medium-well!” You heard Lucas yell, turning to see him and a red headed girl headed your direction. You recognized her, and you kept trying to wrack your brain for how but you kept coming up empty. Dustin pulled Lucas aside to talk, so you decided to introduce yourself.

“Well, I’m y/n. It’s nice to meet you. I wish it were under better circumstances,” you told her, extending your hand towards her. She took it and smiled.

“I’m Max.”

“So, how much do you know about all of this shit?” Steve asked and you rolled your eyes.

“This is Steve,” you added, not wanting to be entirely rude to the poor girl. Realization flashed across his face as he lifted his hand in a half wave, not really in the mood for introductions. The world was basically ending, did it really matter if you all knew each other?

Max waved back, pressing her lips into a thin line, clearly also unimpressed by Steve. You couldn’t imagine how she was putting up with Dustin and his friends all this time, but then again, you had spent the last twenty-four hours with Steve Harrington, so you really couldn’t judge. “I know pretty much everything,” Max answered your previous question, though you could tell she didn’t really buy it. You weren’t going to try to convince her. Hell, you wished you didn’t believe it either.

“Well, we should probably start prepping for some serious shit,” you spoke up, starting to lift up a piece sheet metal and turning to carry it towards a broken down old bus. Steve knew that had to be heavy as hell, and if he was being honest, watching you carry it was kind of hot. He shook the thought from his head as you returned to help Max carry another piece. He turned to make his way towards the boys who were doing nothing to help whatsoever.

While you and Max carried the sheet metal, you finally realized where you knew her from, “hey, you’re Billy’s sister, right?” You remembered her from the car. She had to walk all the way down to the middle school because Billy was a lazy piece of shit.

“Step sister, but to answer your question, yeah, unfortunately,” she rolled her eyes.

“Well, I wouldn’t tell Steve that because he definitely is not a fan of your brother,” you chuckled.

“Join the club,” she sighed as you set the scrap down. You heard a loud bang as you turned to see Steve banging a metal chair against a car to get the younger boys’ attention.

“Hey! Dickheads! How come the only ones helping me out are y/n and this random girl?”

You and Max looked at each other and you burst out laughing. You apologized that Steve had referred to you as “this random girl,” as you moved to grab more and more materials to set up your impromptu shelter. Steve and the boys continued to grab sheet metal and you began pouring gasoline all over the clearing. Fire had worked pretty damn good the last time, so you were banking on it working again, hoping that it was enough.

You had fortified the entire bus with sheet metal, wiping the sweat beading on your forehead after you and Steve placed the last piece. The kids were all piling onto the dilapidated vehicle and you were about ready to join them when Steve grabbed your elbow for you to wait.

“What?” You asked, not quite sure why he had stopped you.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay if this thing shows up?” He asked, scanning your face trying to read your expression as if it would reveal some sort of fundamental truths about the universe to him.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” you shook free of his grasp, somewhat annoyed with him. If him showing he cared meant that he wasn’t interested, you weren’t interested in hearing it.

“What’s the matter? What did I do?” Steve was confused and a bit hurt too. Through all of this you had gotten along so well, and now was not the time for your friendship to be on the fritz.

You sighed, not quite sure how to explain yourself. You knew you were being unreasonable, but you just didn’t have the energy to care right now. “It’s just…I don’t know, I just wish you didn’t care so much about me sometimes. I didn’t matter to you at all a year ago, so it’s just a lot sometimes to have you worried about me all the damn time, whether it’s some guy hitting on me or this shit. I can take care of myself, I’m not fucking weak, okay?” You grumbled.

“That’s not fair, y/n, and I think you know it. And I wish I wouldn’t have been so stuck up and that we could’ve been friends sooner. And yeah, believe me, I fucking know you can handle yourself, but now that we are friends, I kind of am partial to having you around and if that means yelling at sketchy douchebags like Billy and knocking some inter dimensional fucker into next week, I’ll be damned if I let you stop me,” Steve emphasized. You could hear the annoyance in his voice, but you could also hear the desperation. Steve didn’t say it, but his heart just wanted him to scream let me take care of you…in every damn way there was.

“I know, but Steve the reality of the situation is that we’re in deep fucking shit, and either of us could get ripped to shreds or incapacitated by that thing at any moment, so I need to know that I can be okay without you.”

It was hard to admit it and your voice wavered a bit, but it was true. Something in Steve clicked when you said it and he finally understood why you were so hellbent on fending for yourself. Suddenly, Steve stepped forward and put his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. He buried his head in the crook of your neck, needing to just hold onto you for a second.

You weren’t expecting the hug, but it was more than welcome nonetheless. You didn’t really know how you were supposed to react, but you felt your hands instinctively go up to run your fingers through his hair. You spent a minute like that before pulling away, Steve taking a step back again and clearing his throat.

“Sorry, it’s just I think I push the idea that we might not come back from this out of my head sometimes. I don’t want to have any regrets if this all goes to shit,” he said. What he wanted to say was I want the chance to hold you, just in case.

You nodded and the two of you entered the bus. If the kids heard your conversation, they didn’t say anything, as you and Steve joined them on the floor.

Now it was just a waiting game. Your hand went to the blade at your hip, your fingers running over the leather of the holster. You were ready.

***

Lucas had vacated the bus, instead choosing to sit on the roof to operate as look out. You wished you would have volunteered because sitting and waiting inside this damn thing had become near excruciating. Steve kept flicking his lighter on and off, and you glared at him in the dark, hoping that it would have enough fluid left for when you really needed it.

“So…you really fought one of these things before?” Max spoke up and asked. Steve nodded, continuing to mess with the lighter.

“…and you’re, like, totally 100% sure it wasn’t a bear?”

“Shit. Don’t be an idiot. Okay? It wasn’t a bear. Why are you even here if you don’t believe us? Just go home.” Dustin fumed.

“Geez, someone’s cranky. Past your bedtime?” Max shot back, crossing her arms.

“Dustin!” You scolded. He rolled his eyes and turned away from you, and you decided to give up on trying to get him to play nice. “I’m definitely sure it wasn’t a bear. I’ve even got the scars to prove it,” you tried to go back to Max’s original question, believing that she deserved a kindly worded answer.

“Yeah, she almost died. Still think it was a fucking bear?” Dustin grumbled from his seat, still refusing to face the rest of you. You rolled your eyes and shook your head, trying to make it clear to Max that you thought he was being ridiculous.

“Here, I’ll show you.” You took off the windbreaker, and slipped your arm out of your turtleneck sleeve. Steve went to avert his eyes as a large part of your chest and torso was now on display, but he stopped in his tracks when his eyes caught your upper arm. He had never actually seen the wounds, just your blood-soaked sleeve and then the bandage, and since, you had avoided wearing anything that showed your upper arm. It was littered with scars and his breath hitched in his throat. He left that fight without a scratch on him. Well, other than the ones he already had from his scuffle with Jonathan. He couldn’t imagine what it was like to have that permanent of a reminder.

Dustin cleared his throat loudly and kicked Steve in the leg, signaling at him that he should probably look away before you noticed him staring. Steve quickly obliged, becoming very fascinated with a spot on the floor while you covered back up.

“That’s fucking crazy,” Max breathed out, “why the hell are you guys here if you almost died last time you had to deal with this thing?”

“Because who else would?” You replied as if it was simple. This was now your burden to bear, and you felt a pang in your chest as you realized that it was now Max’s as well.

With that, she nodded, moving to the ladder to join Lucas on the roof. Dustin scoffed and muttered another insult as she disappeared from the body of the bus.

“That’s good. Just show her you don’t care,” Steve spoke up.

“I don’t,” Dustin grumbled. Steve winked at him, and you rolled your eyes.

“Why are you winking, Steve? Stop.” You interjected, kicking at his leg, much like Dustin had done earlier. “Besides, just so you know,” you added, directing your focus back at Dustin, but saying it just as much for Steve’s benefit, “that’s terrible advice. Girls like it when you show them that they mean something to you. If you just keep them guessing they’re going to lose interest.”

Suddenly, you heard a growl settle across the junkyard and the familiar chattering that haunted you in your sleep. You, Steve, and Dustin moved quickly to look out the caged in window. The fog making it difficult to make anything out.

“You see him?” You asked.

“No,” Steve replied, his eyes rapidly darting around the clearing hoping to catch a glimpse of something, anything that would be helpful in giving you even the slightest advantage in this fight.

“I’ve got eyes! Ten o’clock! Ten o’clock!” You suddenly heard Lucas yell from the roof. Surely enough, there it was. You felt anxiety start to creep up in your chest, but then you reminded yourself that you were caged in. The demogorgon couldn’t get you in there…right?

“He’s not taking the bait. Why is he not taking the bait?” Steve asked.

“Maybe he’s not hungry,” Dustin proposed. Surely that couldn’t be it, and you wracked your brain trying to come up with a plan. You finally settled on one, granted it wasn’t great, but it was about your best option at the moment. It’s now or never.

“Or maybe it’s sick of cow,” you added, swiftly getting up before anyone could stop you and grabbing the golf club.

“Y/n? Y/n, what are you doing?” Dustin asked, fear seeping into his voice. Steve shot up grabbing the nail bat, understanding where you were going. He decided he wasn’t going to argue, but he wasn’t going to let you go by yourself either.

“Y/n, Steve!” Dustin called out again. Steve tossed him the lighter, the boy fumbling it before he caught it.

“Just be ready,” Steve warned as the two of you quickly swung open the door and exited the safety of the bus. Steve started whistling and calling out to the demogorgon, attempting to lure it towards the bus so you could enact your plan. You both cautiously stepped farther and farther out into the clearing, weapons in hand, looking like you were about to play the most fucked up game of basegolf ever.

“Come on! Dinner time,” you shouted out feeling fear rise in your throat. You couldn’t believe you were walking back into this again, but you had three kids with you and you weren’t going to let this creature put a scratch on them. No one else needed to come out of this with scars. You finally saw the demogorgon, or well, adolescent demogorgon. It was on all fours, stepping out from the fog into the clearing. It looked fucking menacing and you the longer you were out here, the more determined than ever you were to kill the fucking thing.

Lucas’ voice suddenly rang out “Steve! Y/n! Watch out! Three o’clock! Three o’clock!” You looked to your left and realized it wasn’t alone as two more began to climb over one of the other rundown vehicles. It had brought company.

“A little busy,” Steve called back, eyes still focused on the demogorgon in front of him.

“Steve,” you warned, and the fear in your tone caused him to turn, finally realizing that you were outnumbered. Suddenly, the face of the one across from Steve opened up as it started bounding towards the two of you, it’s buddies swiftly closing in as well, Steve dodged the first one, rolling over the hood of a car to get out of the way. You whacked at one to your left with the golf club, barely dodging another as it charged at you. So much was happening at once, and you were struggling to process it all. You barely jumped out of the way of another attack, as Steve roughly grabbed your wrist swinging you in front of him and shoving you as you both sprinted towards the bus. You heard the kids’ screams for you to hurry as the creatures closed in behind you. the two of you barely hopped back into the bus and shut the door, landing in a heap as you shoved more sheet metal to block the door. One of the demogorgons lunged at the bus, its sharp claws clamoring against the metal as you and Steve tried desperately to hold the door shut with your legs.

The kids all sprung into action, Dustin calling out on his walkie talkie for help, as the demogorgon finally broke through the door. Steve started beating it with the nail bat, swinging again and again, as it still didn’t die with each blow. It finally stopped moving, but that was when you all heard the sounds of footsteps on the roof, realizing too late that you hadn’t blocked the emergency exit. Max stood at the bottom of the ladder as the demogorgon approached, you shoved her out of the way as it opened its mouth to shriek at you. You were back in relatively the same position you had been in a year ago, you unsheathed your knife from your hip about ready to slit its throat, when all of the sudden it stopped screeching, growling off into the distance before swiftly vacating the bus.

You all cautiously exited the bus, realizing that the rest of them had left as well, all of you confused by the fact that they had just left. These things didn’t leave, not without killing something first.

“What happened?” Lucas asked.

“Y/n and Steve scared them off?” Dustin replied.

“No way,” Steve disagreed, “they’re going somewhere.”

***

The five of you made your way back down the train tracks, trying to get back to Steve’s car so you could get the hell out of there. Lucas and Max had began asking Dustin questions, similar to the ones you and Steve had asked him when he first told you guys.

“When’s he gonna molt again?” Max asked.

“It’s gonna be soon. When he does, he’ll be fully grown, or close to it,” Dustin replied confidently. The thing had already grown significantly in just a few days, there’s no telling how long you had to find him until he was the nine-foot beast you were a little too familiar with.

“Yeah, and he’s gonna eat a lot more than just cats,” Steve added, unaware of the argument that it was going to start.

“Wait, Dart ate a cat?!” Lucas yelled the question, clearly angry.

“No, no he didn’t,” Dustin answered way too quickly.

“What are you talking about? He ate Mews,” Steve interjected clearly confused. You elbowed him in the ribs to get him to stop talking. You were already annoyed with these children 90% of the time; you didn’t need to listen to another one of their dumb arguments. You tuned out their yelling back and forth before you and Steve started to walk ahead, but then you heard a growl in the distance. You all ran at the sound, coming up to an overlook where you saw Hawkins Lab in the distance.

“It’s the lab,” Lucas finally said, “they were going back home.”

You started taking off towards the lab. You were going to finish this thing once and for all. Steve ran after you, putting a hand on your shoulder to slow you down. You whirled around already thinking of your argument when he told you that this was a bad idea. Before you could even get the words out, he was speaking.

“Hey, just promise me, whatever we do, we do together, okay?” There it was again, his pinky extended towards yours. You grabbed it tightly, looking him in the eyes with the most sincerity that you could muster.

“Promise.”

***

a/n: I hope y’all liked this part. Honestly I’m just excited for when I get to write Billy showing up and Max being a total badass, so if you’re interested in that stay tuned. I’ve been trying to crank these out as quickly as possible, and your engagement makes it all the more exciting to write them, so comment and reblog if you liked it!

#stranger things #joe keery #steve harrington #netflix #friends to lovers #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington friends to lovers #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington x reader blurb #steve harrington x you #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x reader #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington angst #steve harrington the babysitter #steve harrington x reader fanfic #steve harrington fluff

[casterousaudrey]

Healing Touch

Word Count: 2k

Pairing: Astarion/Cleric!Tav!reader

Theme: tooth rotting fluff, some religious themes due to reader being a cleric.

Note: I think I made the reader and Astarion too obsessed with each other.. but in a good way!! Also this was inspired by the time I gave offerings in the stromshore tabernacle and I just see the 'Astarion disapproves', what the flip man! Sorry to those who were waiting for this, It took a while because of my busy sched!

"I’m never going to accept any kind of healing that doesn't end with a kiss after"

Fighting with Astarion never escalated far. It was usually just small jabs at each other or teasing gone too far but then there are times like these when neither one of you would back down it just kept making the fight more heated.

"I bring you once. One time to the stormshore tabernacle, and you can't even hold your tongue when I'm trying to commune with my God!"

"I just thought that you weren't the type to bow down to anyone, my dear."

"I'm a cleric, Astarion! Yes, I'm a devoted worshiper to my God and they give me strength! Apparently, strength I need to deal with you!" 

Astarion sneers and crosses his arms at you. Worshipping another being doesn't exactly sit well with him, he feels that it controls you and makes you too dependent on them. It was probably due to how Cazador treated him but in his mind, any being asking for worship was self-admiring.

"You have your own strength, darling. So pardon me if I don't think you need some God for that."

"It's not that I don't trust my skills, Astarion. I worship my God because I choose to. Was it too much of me to ask my lover to respect that holy place? If not for the Gods then at least for me!"

At this point, you were screaming your lungs out not caring that the others in camp were glancing at the commotion. This wasn't the first Astarion had expressed his distaste for your faith, it never escalated this far because you tried to understand his situation with Cazador and all. But the constant disapproving stare and look of disgust, whenever you would pray to your God or gather some offerings to bring to the stormshore Tabernacle slowly, got to you.

After all the times you saved him from life-threatening wounds, you thought that maybe he'd warm up to your faith- but he remained unshaken. 

"I'm going to take a walk... It's better if you don't follow me for now....., dearest" Your heart jumps a little at the nickname but then anger eventually pops your lovesick bubble. Astarion gets up and leaves camp, his definition of laying off steam was to walk through the woods and terrorize whatever animal crosses his path. You were about to say something about how you were the one who was supposed to storm off but instead, you held your tongue and went back to your tent making sure to close the opening. 

You loved Astarion- and there is no doubt in your heart that he loves you too, but you didn't want to have to choose between faith and love because you believed that they are the main pillars that keep your spirit strong.

~~~

As Astarion was walking through the woods he reminisced about the argument you both had, he couldn't understand why anyone would worship a being without being sure that they'd get a reward in return. The only thing close to God he had in his life was Cazador- oh and how much he wanted to rip his face apart.

Astarion ponders all of this unaware he is dangerously close to enemy territory and suddenly senses another presence- maybe four around the trees. "If you're going to spy on me all day at least make it less obvious" Just then two goblins jump down from the tree, their weapons craving for blood. 

"Hells, there must be quite a bounty on my head" Astarion smiles as he brings his weapons out. He strikes at the first goblin. "You fiends are making this stress reliever way easier for me. I can do this all day!" Astarion did occasionally love the thrill of the hunt, especially when he gets something in return. A thought comes across his mind that he feels rather... alone in this fight, although he could handle this on his own he couldn't help but crave your helping hand and your smile that shines when he saves you from danger. 

Unfortunately, Astarion didn't realize how distracted he was until one of the goblins blew a horn, a signal for backup.

 "Well, shit.."

Astarion killed the first two goblins but he sees backup quickly replacing them. The grip on his dagger tightened, this was supposed to be a nice relaxing walk to calm down or even hunt for other creatures. He guesses that trouble always did find a way to follow him. 

The goblins fall one by one but not after Astarion gets injured by their bows, axes, and maces. As the last goblin loses, Astarion clutches his side. He was hurt and it's been so long since he's felt hurt in combat, his mind jumps again to your hands that always healed him at an instant or your ability to heal the entire team within seconds. God, he really missed you- he didn't even feel angry anymore, he just wanted to be in your arms as you kiss every part of his injuries after you healed it. 

Just then he hears a footstep, and he groans in annoyance, more of this and he'd actually collapse- either from his injuries or his need to hold you again, he isn't sure. 

"Look if you're looking for gold, you're out of luck..."

"Oh Gods.. what happened?"

He quickly glances to his side where the figure had approached from where he was sitting. Astarion half expected it to be you, The thought of you running after him made him smile but then it quickly disappeared when he realized the fact that the female human in front of him may be a cleric but it wasn't his beloved cleric.

"We should get you back to the church! They'll help heal your wounds!"

"As kind as your offer is, I'm afraid I have to decline. I can't these injuries for myse-" Just as Astarion tries to stand up, he feels pain in his side. He now just felt annoyed that he was displaying this kind of weakness to some stranger.

"Nonsense! I'll help bring you there!" The cleric smiles as she wraps Astarions arm across her shoulder. Astarion couldn't protest as much because of his condition but he'd be damned if he'll let himself get healed by some cleric.

~~~

The sun was about to set and Astarion still hadn't come back to camp. You were getting worried, you weren't even mad at him anymore you just wanted him safe and back in your arms. You really did fall hard for this man. 

"Hey soldier... are you okay?" Karlach has seen you pacing back and forth all over camp, fiddling your weapon nervously, and even stress-eating your favorite sweets. 

"Yeah, sorry if I'm being all jittery today it's just.."

"Astarion, yeah I know how much you care about each other. I'm sure he'll come back safe!"

"Thank you, Karlach. You're the best" 

You softly smile at her as she waves and walks back to her tent. Just then you hear Gale laughing walking towards you, he just came back from town to fetch new ingredients for tonight's meal. He always loved cooking for the group.

"Ok you won't believe what happened"

"Spit it out, Gale. What's gotten into you?"

"Ok, so I was walking around the city and I stopped by the church. Guess who I saw there sneering at every cleric on-site..."

"No..."

"Astarion! Gods, if you saw the furrowed brows of the clerics trying to help him you'd laugh too"

"He's hurt?!"

"Not badly, I came to tell you about it. Figured the only cleric he'd let touch him was you"

You started to flush but quickly remembered that your partner was hurt. "Oh Gods, I need to go there Gale before he loses his mind. We'll be back for dinner!" You grabbed a few of your belongings, as well as some healing ingredients, and sprinted out. You wave quickly at the others before reaching the path to the church.

You have no idea why you were nervous to see Astarion, you see each other every day and sometimes even every night. You were scared if you got there and he was still mad at you. You push those thoughts away because all you wanted was to see and help him (maybe to also give him a little smooch but you won't tell him that).

As you open the door you hear the clatter of equipment being thrown to the ground, You greet the other people you know at church as you hear another glass breaking. You already know who would be acting hysterical in a church so you followed the sound and opened the door to reveal your one and only lover sitting up on a bed and a cleric who had been trying to help him.

"Oh sorry ma'am but this section is strictly forbidden to outsiders"

"It's ok I'm a cleric, and he's my husband"

"Oh well... if that's the case I can hand his case to you!"

The female cleric quickly picked up her equipment and left the room, she seemed a little too eager to finally leave. You turn to face Astarion whose eyes are already on you, his lips curled to a smile- at least you know he isn't mad.

"Husband? You could at least take me out for dinner first, darling"

"Oh hush, that was one of the only peaceful to get her to leave us alone"

The other beds in the room were surprisingly empty, leaving the both of you alone. You walked towards his bed as you set your bag on the side table. You place yourself in between his legs as you softly caress his face with your hands.

"How's my favorite vampire doing"

"Better now that you're here.... look darling, I just wanted to apologize for my actions earlier. It was completely uncalled for. The closest thing to a God I knew was Cazador... you saw firsthand how much I hate the beast.. but I also understand that it wasn't like that for you, I can live with you being faithful to a God and it also makes you kind, sometimes too kind"

"Too kind, eh? Maybe I should just leave your injuries unattended then"

"I would appreciate it if you won't"

You laugh softly at him as you place a kiss on his lips and at his lashes. You've always loved his eyes and how easily you could get lost in them. Astarions hands were on your waist as you lifted his shirt to finally tend to his wounds.

"I'm also sorry for screaming at you. Wasn't very kind of me to do... but also you were an ass"

"What an apology, my dear"

"Only the best for you"

Still in his hold, you grab a few medicines in your bag and quickly healed him with your magic. In no time Astarion was all healed, all that was left was to clean his bloodied clothing. You loved times like this- intimate and calm, You thank your God for the power to help him because he does get into trouble quite often.

"And there, you're all set. We can go back to camp now if you want"

"It still hurts right here, love" 

You glanced at where his fingers were pointing only for it to be pointed at his lips. "Want me to kiss it better?"

"I wouldn't want nothing more, my sweet"

You chuckle as you kiss him on his lips. Even before you got together he always had this flirtatious attitude, you could argue that it only became more frequent when you got together. Always the charmer.

"Now let's go home before the others get worried" He released his hold on your hips as he stood up and stretched a bit. "Anything you say, darling"

"Why didn't you want to get healed by the other clerics?"

"Oh well they aren't as attractive, strong, smart, and quick-witted as you.... besides"

Astarion turns to you holding both of your hands in his as you look him in the eye. 

"You're my one and only cleric. I’m never going to accept any kind of healing that doesn't end with a kiss after"

"You could ask Shadowheart next time"

"Ughh don't even get me started, I was trying to be romantic..."

Taglist: @severusminerva, @sarahskywalker-amadala, @ghostinvenus, @veethewriter. Hope you guys enjoyed this!! xoxo

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion #astarion x mc #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 #bg3 tav #baldurs gate iii #astarion x tav

[mirage-aera]

•°. *࿐ Five stages of grief | TF141 + König + Keegan

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Reflections - The Neighbourhood

Synopsis: How the boys will cope with your death after a mission gone wrong following the five stages of grief, denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.

Word count: 2.099

Masterlist

Inspired by an acting challenge @ simplyagh0st has created on tiktok, check him out he does great content if you haven't!

"falling just as hard, I'd rather lose somebody than use somebody"

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley has gone through so much hurt already. He promised himself that he wouldn’t let anyone close to his heart,  and just rip it out again. But once you came along and managed to tear down his walls, he made a vow to himself to keep you safe, to make sure he doesn’t have to go through loss, again. 

During the mission, your position gets overwhelmed by enemies. Backup is only a couple of minutes away. The team is split up, you are together with Simon, fighting off waves of enemies. Simon has unknowingly turned his back on an enemy while trying to help you. You’re his priority and he discards his own safety. You see the barrel of the gun facing his back. Not saying a word, you run up to him and turn him around. Not expecting the movement, he easily moves with you. Effectively swapping places with you. The shot rings out and pierces you through the heart. You start collapsing to the floor. He manages to catch you before you meet the ground. He pulls his pistol out of the holster and shoots the enemy with no hesitation.

He sets your body down on the floor gently. Your backup arrives and helps Simon clear out the enemies. As he looks at the dead bodies around him, he can’t help but stare at you. He’s a seasoned soldier. He knows you are dead and that nothing can help you.

As days go on without you by his side, slowly his misery turns into anger. He hates the fact that you put yourself in front of a bullet that was meant for him. He hates the fact that he failed to protect you. He hates that he got so distracted with keeping enemies away from you that he failed to notice the enemy pointing a gun at him. He hates that he let his walls down again, and let someone break his heart again. He gets colder by the day, not giving a damn for anyone or anything. He’s on a mission, to kill every single person involved in that mission that’s on the other side of your guns. He may have failed in protecting you, but he’ll be damned if he fails at this too.

"I see my reflection in your eyes.."

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish can’t believe how much of a fuck up he is. He promised you, that whenever you are around him. He’ll keep you safe. No matter what. So when he sees your empty eyes staring up at him. He can’t help but feel so guilty. He’s used to seeing his reflection in your eyes. Eyes that were so full of life, and now they’re lifeless. All because he broke his promise to you. He just stares at your body in shock. One second you were fine, even joking around with him. The next second you’re gone and he failed to protect you.

They had to drag him off of your dead body. When they put a white sheet over you, that’s when he finally stopped fighting. He had no other choice than to accept you’re dead. He wouldn’t leave your side. Even at death. He’s locked himself up in his room after getting discharged. Price said he’s a liability and that he should take some time off. But really all it did was shut him off even more. He feels so alone in your shared bedroom. Once full of laughter are now fleeting memories. He spends his day in bed, reminiscing and crying. He wants to be angry, he wants to avenge you. But he’s just so goddamn tired. His reflection staring back at him through your lifeless eyes will forever haunt him.

The only time he leaves the house is to visit you. Even then, your cheerful Johnny is no more. He just stares at your tombstone in sadness, remorse, and regret. He thinks about all of the what-ifs. He knows you would hate to see him like this, but he feels like he has no other option. His light was and always will be you. Someone has taken his light away, and the tunnel is now a dark and lonely one

"we were too close to the stars, I never knew somebody like you"

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick has never expected the mission to go so awry. If anything, it was supposed to be one of the easier missions that the Task Force had to endure. So when he stares at you, lying limp on the cold hard ground. One thought is speeding through his mind. ‘No no no, she’s not dead. She can’t be dead.” Even though the signs are there, you are clinically dead. You aren’t breathing, heart stopped pumping the instant the explosion went off. Eyes staring blankly up at the sky. He rushes to you and reassures you as if you’re still alive.

“Hey, hey just keep your eyes open baby. Help is on the way.”

“You’ll be okay, you’re stronger than them.”

“Just hold on, you’re fine baby. It’s just a bruise.”

He repeats these things, both to you and him. As long as he can reassure himself that you are okay and still ‘alive’, everything will be alright. Despite the blood staining his clothes and covering his hands. He refuses to believe you are dead. Not when you are one of the most important people in his life if not the most important. You’re supposed to grow old and die together. Not abruptly by an explosion, not on the job. He has never met someone like you, someone so caring and kind-hearted. You’re a special one and he knows it.

Even as the medics put you on a stretcher and placed a white sheet over your body. Even when they pronounced you dead. He refuses to listen to them. Even when your casket gets lowered into the ground as they give you an honorary send-off. When they forced him to attend your funeral so that he won't regret it later. He still believes you are alive. Sometimes he can hear you call out to him, telling him you love him and that he should move on from you. On a few rare occasions, he swears he sees you standing before him. Or amongst the team on a briefing. And when he informs the team that you have returned, they just stare at him in pity. And repeat what they have been saying for weeks. “She’s dead and isn’t coming back.”

"(tell me you see it too..)"

John Price is a seasoned soldier. He has seen many things, things that he’d rather have not seen. But to keep the world clean, someone has to get their hands dirty. During his whole military, he has seen many comrades die, good people that didn’t deserve to die. Once he became captain he made sure that every one of his fallen brothers and sisters would get a proper and honorable send-off.

You are not an exception. Once he got the news that you’ve been KIA’d. His whole world stopped before it started turning again. His team needs him to be level-headed, not an emotional wreck. He can let his emotions out later in private. They retrieve your body from the field and bring it home. As you lay in the chopper, lifeless. He stares at you both in sadness and frustration. He knows you aren’t coming back. He’s frustrated that he couldn’t save you. Your eyes are still open, staring blankly back at him. He sighs as he closes your eyes, not bearing to see his reflection in your eyes. A reminder that he failed you, both as a partner and captain.

He was there during every step of the send-off. He made sure everything was perfect and that nothing could go wrong. You deserve to rest in peace. As the casket goes down, he can’t help but feel slightly peaceful as he watches you get lowered. He’s there until midnight, talking endlessly with your tombstone. Until he’s forced to leave you, so he can prepare for his next mission. Dealing with the bastards, and everyone involved that took you from him.

‘At least she’s free from the horrors of this world.’ He thinks to himself. From now on, he’ll strive to keep the world clean. So that you can forever lay one with the earth in peace. It’s the least he could do for you now that you can’t do it yourself. Maybe one day he’ll join you. But for now he’s content with the fact you no longer have to suffer.

"maybe it's a blessing in disguise?"

König has been spiralling since that mission, the mission where you did not return like you said you would. He regrets sending you on that mission for KorTac. He unknowingly sent you on a suicide mission. The worst part is, they never found your body. It makes him sick to think about what happened to it. He hates the way he can’t even put you to proper rest, where you want to be buried if something were to happen. He rereads the mission file over and over. He thinks that maybe, just maybe, he could’ve seen it coming from a mile away and perhaps he could’ve warned you. But the times he rereads it he realizes that there was nothing that could’ve been done for you. Every outcome would’ve likely ended with you dying. It revolts him to think he sent you to your death.

Your shared home feels so cold and lonely without your presence. He takes care of the garden for you, he waters your indoor plants. You always made him a fruit salad while he worked in his office. So he does it himself. But instead of using his favourite fruits, he makes them with your favourite. Hoping that one day, you’ll come home and join him, sharing a fruit salad together as you used to do. He heads to the cemetery daily, where your empty casket is buried. Sometimes, he’ll come with a small bowl of fruit salad. 

“I’ve got your favourites, meine Taube.” 

“Bitte, come home. Your plants miss you, I can’t take care of them as well as you do.”

“I wish I never sent you on that verdammt mission.”

As he speaks softly to your tombstone, a white dove perches on top of it. He looks at it as it reminds him of you. He watches as the dove takes your favourite fruits from the bowl and eats it. Eventually, it picks up the pieces of his favourite fruit and drops them on his hand. He chuckles lightly, “welcome home, Liebe.”

"falling just as hard, I'd rather lose somebody than use somebody"

Keegan Russ was already torn with the death of Ajax. But when Rorke did the same to you. His whole world crumbled. When they found out Rorke had a kill list for the Ghosts. He made a vow to himself to keep you safe, no matter what. So when Rorke captured you, he was furious. But he still had confidence in getting you back home to him. He was so close, yet so far. He realizes it’s a repeat of what happened to Ajax. That just spurred him on more to get you back faster.

But when he came face to face with Rorke. He spots your limp body behind Rorke. Oh, he so wanted to wipe that smirk off of his face, but his priority is you first and foremost. “What did you do?!” Keegan screams out in rage. When that smirk got wider, he was so tempted to put a bullet in between his eyes right there and then. “I crossed off a name on the list.” All Keegan sees is red. Rorke throws your lifeless to him.

Keegan catches your body and slumps to the floor. Rorke sees this as an opportunity to escape, and right now Keegan doesn’t give a shit. He clutches your body closer to him. Hating the way your cold skin touches him. Hating all the dried-up blood and bruises. You suffered, and he couldn’t help you. He screams in both rage and agony. He gently puts you down before trashing the room you were held in. He throws things left and right. He tears down papers from the walls.

At your funeral, he wasn’t any better. If anything, his body was running on pure adrenaline and rage. Once he gets his hand on Rorke. He will show him the wrath that he has bestowed upon him. He can’t help but continuously for not being there to protect you. He stares at your tombstone in anger. ‘How did I let you slip through my fingers?’ That is all he can think about. You were gone, because he was too late. That thought will forever linger in the back of his mind.

#cod #cod x reader #call of duty #call of duty x reader #ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #soap x reader #soap #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #gaz #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john price #john price x reader #price #price x reader #könig x reader #könig #konig #konig x reader #keegan russ #keegan russ x reader #keegan #keegan x reader #cod mwii #cod ghosts

[genshxn]

✤ 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐜: 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝

part 2 of Looking After the Sick

written pre-3.3 • 3.2 archon quest spoiler warning technically still applies

author drivel. WROTE THIS WHILE I'M STILL RIDING THE SCARAMOUCHE WAVE THAT I HAVE FOR LIKE NO FUCKING REASON I DON'T KNOW WHY THIS IS HAPPENING TO ME WHAT IS GOING ON THIS FUCKER HAS ME IN A CHOKEHOLD HELP. right yeah anyway- every time i write fanfiction there is always a non-zero chance that someone is going to get slammed into a wall. take that as you will.

synopsis. you're not sick anymore, so you finally take matters into your own hands after he basically irl ghosted you for a few days.

contents. scaramouche can't deal with himself so he doesn't want to deal with you, he gets shoved into a wall, you tell him how you feel, plus a suggestive comment if you squint.

w.c. 2.4k words omg help me

taglist. @frissy

You looked down at It was about time to get Kunikuzushi back to his own room. Luckily, due to his inorganic composition, he’s quite light, so you don’t have much trouble hauling him around in various positions… when you’re not sick. With your lack of strength and shitty breathing, it was quite the slog trying to get the unconscious puppet back to his room, but you did manage it in the end. You laid him down on his bed somewhat ungracefully. After straightening out his messy limbs, you took one last look at his ’sleeping’ face. He’s quite beautiful when he’s this quiet. If only he had an ounce more of that calmness when he was conscious. With that final thought, you shuffled back to your room, collapsing onto the bed with a prolonged sigh (and cough).

30 minutes later, you swear you heard his faint scream from the other side of the Sanctuary. 

The whole reason you went to such an effort to try and get him back to his own room was because you assumed that he would want to be alone once he finally rebooted. And you were right—he still brought your food like he was ordered to by Nahida, but every time he entered the room, he wouldn’t say anything to you, let alone even look at you. He would enter the room without a word, place the tray of food next to you and then rush out again. If you were lucky, he’d maybe throw a fresh blanket at you. Without fail, you’d get nailed square in the face with it every time. 

In the time you were alone, which was about 99% of your waking hours, Kunikuzushi’s words ruminated in your mind. You were "making [him] feel all this shit…" and "toying with [his] already shattered heart like [a] plaything…". You wanted to roll your eyes at how painfully on-brand the wording is, but it seems like he’s gone and developed feelings for you. If all he did was say those things to you, there was more room for doubt in his words, but paired with his actions, there was no mistaking it. Kunikuzushi had developed feelings for you at some point. Looking down at the empty hand he held, you reminisced on the feeling of his soft hand in yours. It was so tender compared to the front he usually put up. You close your fist with a determined look on your face—once you’re better, you’re going to confront him about it. 

By the fourth morning after making up your mind, you finally felt human again. You woke up  with the sunlight hitting your eyes… But when that happens at this time of year, that means it’s already mid to late morning. So you’ve managed to sleep in even more than normal. With a sigh, you roll over to get out of bed but notice the food tray in the regular spot. On it sits a lonely cup of tea. Upon feeling the mug, you realize it must have been sitting there for a while, because it was only lukewarm—it must have been brought in while you were asleep. You go to gulp it down so it doesn’t go to waste, but the familiar taste hits you immediately. It was just like the tea in the chazuke that Kunikuzushi made you a few days ago. He must have made the tea. Whether it was his own idea or Nahida’s, you appreciate that he brought it to you either way. Right as you’re about to place the mug back down, you notice a tiny, plain notecard that must have been sitting beneath the cup. 

The Radish wants you to hurry up and stop being bedridden. 

Jokes on him, you’re feeling 100% better and are about to hunt his ass down. After getting changed out of your pyjamas and into some semi-presentable clothes, you set out on your quest of looking for the emotional wreck of a puppet. 

You exit out into the hallway, not quite sure where to begin. You begin to think of some possible places he may be, but your thoughts are cut off by a little radish-coloured child wandering into view—it’s Nahida.

"Oh hello, (Y/N)! I’m glad to see you up and about. How are you feeling?" The young god marches up to you with a cheery look on her face. She only comes up to at most your waist. 

"Normal, finally. I’m completely better now. Ku took good care of me… for a few days." You bit the inside of your cheek remembering the event from four days ago. 

"Ah yes, something happened between the two of you, didn’t it? I wanted to see if he would talk about it, but it seems he’s gone back to bottling things up. Can I ask what happened?" 

"Yeah, he’s doing it to me too… You wouldn’t happen to know where he is, would you? I’m gonna try talking to him." 

Nahida puffs her cheeks. "Ooh, that’s going to be tricky… Well, I believe I last saw him come out of his room a few minutes ago. He didn’t have his hat on, so I don’t think he’s planning on leaving any time soon." 

"Thank you so much. You’ll probably be able to tell later on if things go well! Please excuse me now," With a little bow and wave to the god, she sees you off with a returned smile and wave, continuing on her way down the hallway. 

Now to find that Kunikuzushi. It doesn’t take too long to get to the general area of his room. He couldn’t have gone far if he didn’t have his hat on. He never leaves without the thing. 

You can feel yourself beginning to get fidgety. As much of the fearless ex-Fatui Harbinger tamer you are, you’re still just a person with your own nervous feelings to consider. You’re not the one that has the potential to be met with humiliating rejection… right? Judging that you’re dealing with Kunikuzushi, everything could easily be flipped on its head in a matter of seconds. Your eyes turn downcast, mindlessly watching the floor in front of you as you walk. So of course you’re not watching where you’re going because you knock into something—or maybe something walks into you. Either way, it makes an incredibly familiar screech. Your head whips up to see what it is and you come face to face with just the person you were looking for. 

"Kuni—" 

"W-watch where you’re going!" He stammers, moving to hide his face behind his arm. He looks down at you with either contemptuous or embarrassed eyes—you only saw them for a split second before he turns tail and tries to run off. 

"Wait, I need to talk to you!"

"No you don’t!" He calls back, looking over his shoulder.

You run up behind him and try to catch his wrist again, and you do manage to briefly get a grip on it it… until he leaps into the air in a blast of air, yanking himself from your grip. 

You’re left reeling from the sudden gust of wind to your face while Kunikuzushi lands back down and sprints off. He turns to face you one last time and calls out "Leave me alone!" Hey, that’s the most eye-contact he’s made with you in the past four days. 

"Kunikuzushi, you get your ass back here right now!" You begin to sprint after him down the hallway. "Being alone will fix none of this, and you still have to consider how I feel!" 

He makes a shocked cry and almost trips over his own feet. There’s your chance—it’s now or never to catch up to him. Before he can escape away from you again, you manage to corner him against the wall with both hands hovering near either of his shoulders. He’s pressed up against the wall as much as humanly possible, face horrified and tomato red. "LET ME GO." 

"No. Kunikuzushi, listen to me. You can’t just avoid me for the rest of your life." 

"What, a-are you projecting on me or something? You wanna… you wanna be with me so bad you can’t even go four days without talking to me." His 'smug smile' seems more like an embarrassed frown. 

"You interpreted the statement like that. I think you’re the one projecting, Ku," You sigh at his pathetic attempt at deflection. "Which is exactly why I need to talk to you."

"Ngh…" He grunts out while looking off down the hall, hiding his mouth behind his wrist. "This is about… that night, isn’t it? What do you even want?" He frowns, glaring at you. Even when he’s this much of a hot mess, he still has a beauty to behold. 

"That’s the thing… I’m not really sure." You sigh, eyes casting off to the side. "But I would like to go somewhere a bit more private, if possible." 

"HUH? B-but—" His face heats up even further. 

"Would you rather the two of us be caught like this here in the hallway?" 

"No." He avoids your gaze again. "Ugh, c’mon, let’s just go to my room or something It’s right there." 

You let go of your cage around him and he walks stiffly to his bedroom. Once you’re in, he closes the door behind you. His room is neat and simple, not too different from your’s. A few random belongings and pieces of clothes strewn about suggest that he’s begun to feel more comfortable which makes you happy to see. But Kunikuzushi’s not in the mood for that right now. 

"So?" He asks impatiently. "What do you have to say that about… that?" He crosses his arms and shifts his weight to one leg. 

You take a step to approach him, which makes him instinctually back up a step. His expression falters with nervousness. “Well. Your confusing feelings are most likely a crush." You say. 

“Argh, I know that! I wasn’t born yesterday, you know.” He folds his arms across his chest crankily, looking off to the side. “It’s just… been so long. B-but anyway! What do you even…” he gestures around wildly with his hands, struggling to articulate. “…think of all that?!” 

“That’s the thing… I’m not fully sure,” You reply. Mind you, you do have some idea, but you want to put it to the test first. 

"Wh-what?!" He sputters in disbelief. "How can you—! Ugh, I’m right, aren’t I? All you want to do is pl—" He begins on a pessimistic rant, and you’re not having it. 

"But…" You cut him off. Despite your hammering heart rising in your chest, you grab him by both sides of his collar and yank him closer to you, placing your lips on his half-parted ones. Kunikuzushi’s eyes open as wide as can be. You can feel your a warmth and almost giddiness radiate inside you. The kiss itself is a slightly awkward one, thanks to how stiff Kunikuzushi is the whole time, but you can feel yourself melting against him. 

Eventually, you have to let him go. You take note of the fact that you don’t want to, but breathing is still somewhat important. The stunned Kunikuzushi steps back against the wall, eyes and pupils blown wide. Nothing seems to go through his head for a brief second. 

“Hello?” You wave in front of his face. “Don’t fucking tell me you’re short-circuiting again..." Your warm feeling quickly suspends at the looming threat that he may pass out again. If he does, at least his bed is literally right there, and you’re ready to catch him if necessary.

He wordlessly brings a hand to his lip, evidently still computing what just happened. Looks like you just temporarily tanked his processing speed instead. You watch in real time as his face flushes even deeper. 

"WHWHWHWH—" In an instant, his expression morphs to one of shock. Looks like he’s finally back with reality. 

"You know, I missed the feeling of your hand." Now it was your turn to pick up his hand and interlace your fingers with his. You hold it up between the two of you and it give a little squeeze. Kunikuzushi stares at them with wide eyes. "I think it helped me figure out how I feel about you.’ 

"...Wh-which is?" 

"I mean, it should be obvious since I just kissed you on the lips like that, but I think I like you t—“ 

Now it was Kunikuzushi’s turn to cut you off. With his free hand, he holds your face by the jaw and leans in to kiss you back. You’re stunned by his new found confidence. This time, he actually moves against your lips with far more experienced at this than you would have thought—then again, he has been alive several hundred years longer than you have, so what do you know? You can feel the emotion behind it—tender but with an unmistakable fervour. He lets go of your still-joint hand and brings you closer against him with his hand around the small of your back. Your arms find themselves wrapping around his shoulders. A few moments later. you pull back with a gasp of air and a hammering heart. It was also your turn to be left reeling. Kunikuzushi on the other hand, appears quite pleased with himself. 

“Hah, you drank the tea I left you this morning, didn’t you?” He still holds your face with his hand. You watch as he swipes his tongue over his lips with a smug grin. 

“AHEM.” Your face heats at his comment. “Yes, I did. The Radish wanted me to stop being bedridden after all… On another note, you look quite happy,” You say with a smile.  

“‘Cause I am, stupid,” He laughs softly. “You do my head in with all the shit you make me feel, but right now, this isn’t so bad.” 

“Oh yeah, you mentioned that you went to Nahida about your confusing feelings?” 

“…I did. What of it?” He looks at you with a slightly confused expression, rather contrary to the smug one he had before. 

“She’s probably the last person you want to go to for human emotions. She says she really doesn’t understand them since she’s been stuck alone for 500 years." 

“…So she really does have the same understanding of emotions as a radish.” He muses, looking off in some random direction. 

“Wait, KUNIKUZUSHI, WHAT DID YOU SAY TO HER?” 

 In response, he just pokes his tongue out. 

#ok now i gtg do homework #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche fluff #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin #genshin x reader #wanderer x reader

[ayabeanworks]

Title: First Impressions

Synopsis: Reminiscing about your first impressions of Geto, and you realise he's much more than meets the eye, and one of the kindest people you've ever met.

Character: Geto Suguru x reader

Series: Let's Meet in the Spring (SaShiSu x reader)

Notes: Pure fluff.

Part 2 is available here!

Geto Suguru is much more mature than you thought he was. Initially, the first impression you had of him was from a mission both he and Gojo were on - one that saved you from the curse that clung to you and manifested into a big problem.

Granted, Gojo was the one who swept you off your feet to get you to safety, but Geto was the one who gave him that opportunity (which you later found out). It was a tag team for the both of them, and was easy as they subdued and exorcised the curse, making it their mission to get you to safety. Once you were safe, Geto made sure you were mentally okay, whilst Gojo looked and scoured the area while waiting for the Windows to arrive. His words encapsulated a soft and kind feeling, one akin to a safe haven bathed in moonlight on a warm night with a light and comfortable cool breeze.

That wasn't your first impression of him, but rather your second, one that overturned the first just as quickly as it came, much to your surprise.

The first one was while Geto and Gojo were saving you. The first time you see them together after they fetched you, they crack several childish jokes to each other, making you question whether this whole ordeal was a joke.

But you were incredibly wrong, and later after observing their behaviours, you realise it was just the lighthearted fun of two teenage boys who were best friends, egging each other on in their own world of entertainment and antics.

Geto Suguru was the one who held you incredibly gently when he brought your injured body to Shoko after the mission, making sure you weren't uncomfortable since you hurt your leg. You weren't complaining since you felt cared for, but staring at his face point blank right after being told kind words made you look away as quickly as you could, glancing at him when you knew he wasn't looking.

Newsflash, he definitely knew you were, but paid no mind to it.

Later, when you became a student in the same year level as him, he told you cheekily that he knew you were looking at him back then and joked that you probably had a crush on him, and you were absolutely humiliated. Just like Gojo, you ran away from him for 3 days before Gojo & Shoko convinced you to look at him again without screaming in embarrassment at such a first meeting.

Geto was entertained the whole time, knowing exactly what was causing these reactions and had a great laugh out of it, although he did want to apologise because he missed seeing your face. Seeing this all happen, Gojo & Shoko commented he was actually a bit of a sadist especially when it came to you, in which he didn't deny nor confirm.

Suguru apologised profusely after that, only wanting to tease you, but realised he might've gone too far since your expressions were cute and he liked that he was the cause of them. He gave a hug as an apology, chin resting next to your head and on your shoulder as he whispered a soft 'sorry' next to your ear, leaning down to encase you in his arms.

You didn't expect him to whisper in your ear like that, so you hit his back lightly, whining about him teasing you again, hiding your embarrassment in the crook of his neck. The next sound that came from him was a beautiful laughter, one that you hoped you could've recorded with it so close to your ear. The thrum of it echoing in his chest could be felt in your body too, since he hugged you tighter as he laughed.

Once he finally let go, he grinned and messed up your hair, giving a wave as he turned and went off to get drinks from the vending machine for everyone.

You couldn't deny that your jaw dropped at the interaction, wondering what just happened. It was still processing in your brain.

When Gojo's soft (almost scandalous) gasp and Shoko's puff of cigarette smoke made you realise you and Suguru weren't just the only ones there, the expression, let's say, was one that Shoko & Gojo wanted to take a picture of and frame it for eternity, much to your chagrin.

They didn't stop teasing you about the whole ordeal, having been the first time they've seen Suguru act this way towards anyone. It was new and it was fresh, but it fit with Suguru's character from your precious memories of him from day 1.

You wouldn't change it for the world.

Geto Suguru's demeanour was incredibly kind underneath his teasing, serious and calm expressions, and you'd be lying if you said that you knew how kind he was. You would say that he had a soft heart, and you've been on the receiving end of it many times as he treated you well. However, a soft heart doesn't necessarily mean weak, and for Suguru, you didn't know if he was soft and weak, or if he was just soft. You just know him as Suguru, the one who loves his friends dearly and cares for their wellbeing.

This is the same Geto Suguru who shared music and book recommendations when you were bored, the same one who sometimes picks you up from the train station if you were coming back from a mission if he was nearby, the same one who would steal your little treats to give to Gojo & Shoko, the same one messed up your hair after teasing you, the same one who braided your hair when no one was around and you begged him to do your hair (he was surprisingly really good at it), the same one who would already have some of his food ready for you since you always wanted to take a bite of what he was having since it looked good (he sometimes cooked it himself), as well as the one who would hug you tightly if he noticed you were sad or feeling under the weather.

There were more things you could list, and it made your heart swell tha you were close to a person with such wonderful traits.

Sometimes you would think of him like a cat - one of the incredibly affectionate ones that you were acquainted with, especially after become familiar with you over time. It was a sight to see once you made the correlation, and you wondered if getting a cat version of Geto would be similar to the real one.

Even though you two were good friends, there was an intricate line both sides feared to cross, due to the nature of the jujutsu world and how each and every person was affected by the aftershocks of missions, curses and negative energy.

But even though you were close and kept each other at arms reach, sometimes, you wanted to reach your hand out and grab his in an unrelenting grip so he wouldn't slip away.

And once you reached your hand out, you wondered whether the world would become just a bit brighter.

A/N: Here's part 2! I think I screamed when I wrote this 🤣 If you want to read in order, Gojo's is first, then Geto and Shoko.

To read Gojo's part, click here!

For Shoko's, click here!

#jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru #jjk #jjk fluff #fluff #jjk suguru #getou suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen suguru #geto #jjk geto #suguru x reader #geto x you #geto fluff #geto suguru x you #geto x reader #suguru x you #suguru geto x reader

[mymreaderlibrary]

Could always go for some old man yaoi between Price and an older veteran reader so here are some ramblings.

[Old friends, pre relationship, yearning, beard buddies, ramblings/ no coherency].

[Length: 739 words]

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The 141's mission calls for a specialization that they don't meet (at least not well enough to risk failure), but what would you know Price has an old buddy who can help. The thing is he's a veteran who's not all that interested in exiting his retirement especially considering he lost a limb. However he's not one to abandon those in need and with a little convincing he decides to assist, offering his expertise mostly off of the field.

In their downtime y/n and Price get to catch up and spend some time together over drinks. It's been a while since they've seen each other considering how differently they now lead their lives. Y/n is embarrassed to admit he's already getting grey hairs as Price questions his brutally short buzzcut. He never used to cut his hair like that even in his younger years. Price jokes that he's disappointed that y/n is trying to hide his new silver fox look. Y/n says he'll get to see it when it starts growing into his beard. Maybe it's the alcohol but the teasing lingers in both of their minds, feeling more sincere than joking.

Even if they've spent a lot of time apart there's still things they know about each other by heart. Particularly how apprehensive y/n is to being assisted with anything. There's no fragility allowed as he'd rather grin and bare it than accept help, especially with his new(ish) disability. Price doesn't speak on the matter, but he does get frustrated at the other man's stubbornness, a subtle crinkle to his eye as he watches his friend struggle.

Speaking of stubbornness, the 141 get to "enjoy" having two hardheaded older men on the same team. Double the scolding and double the exasperated sighing, somehow it's like being together has combined them into the ultimate grumpy old man. Laswell wouldn't admit it but once their voices start to layer over each other she tunes them out. They're gonna be going in circles for a while and it's near impossible to stop them. It would be almost comedic if it didn't happen all the damn time. ( Worst of all is that most of their arguments are them agreeing on something, but thinking the other misunderstood due to how they phrased their response).

Night times are often nostalgic, neither of them are heavy sleepers so if one wakes up so does the other. They try to get as much sleep in when they can, but if they feel like reminiscing over times long gone then who's to stop them. Stories about Price's younger years in training and y/n's experience with that one damn drill instructor who seemed to hate his guts. Stories about how shitty their first long range shots were and how they could barely even hit the target. Stories about all the times they found themselves in some form of trouble be it on the field or in base. Y/n remembers the time they had to share one shitty cot that they almost punched each other over. Price remembers when they were stuck in a tundra for over a month and were so excited to have a hot shower again they just went at the same time. Neither of them mention how much they actually enjoyed that closeness and how both of them were too cowardly to initiate anything. But they do mention the day they got split up, sent to entirely different countries. Y/n admits to being disappointed he hadn't gotten the chance to say goodbye... Price says he's glad they didn't, sometimes goodbye's like those are bad luck.

They take a moment to look at each other, see scars old and new, wrinkles forming in places that used to be so smooth. Price can't help but look at y/n's eyes, seeing that familiar color that never seemed to fade despite all its seen. He thinks back to that warm shower over a decade ago and how they looked then too. The steam that rose from y/n's chest, the subtle brush of skin they shared as they tried to dance around each other. He remembers that expectation of something more that never came.

They squeeze each other's hands, but the moment passes in silence and neither of them move. Eventually they break eye contact and drift back to sleep.

It seems even now they’re still too cowardly.

#I use the term yaoi ironically #I just fuckin love the sentence ‘old man yaoi’ like thats so funny hell yeah #my bf and I just be lookin at anything and calling it old man yaoi #anyways blurb I had to get out cause I’m playing modern warfare for the first time and getting into the other games #my gay ass goes weak at the knees for military men #captain price #john price #price cod #cod #male reader #cod x male reader #john price x male reader #x male reader #ramblings #my writing #mw #I LOVE YEARNING!!!!!! GRAAAAAAAA #old man yaoi

[chrollohearttags]

cake • a. artlert

“I got a sweet tooth and it’s only for you..”

content warning and themes: blackfem!reader, florist reader, sexual content/smut, finger sucking, food play, friends with benefits, tongue kissing, fluff, creampie

📝: another cute and horknee drabble with baker armin because he’s in my head again.

wc: 693

.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:.･*:｡.･*:｡.･

“I swear this is the last time I’ll come over and help you. You always get me in trouble.”

“You sure? The way you’re squeezing me right now says otherwise.”

the snarky response from your friend and fellow small business owner elicited a laugh from between your quivering lips. Biting down on the lower one in hopes to stifle your moans, all in hopes to keep quiet. But that just wouldn’t do for him as there was no need for either of you to hold back those feelings and desires. The ones you were forced to conceal during the work day. Having thoughts of one another while serving customers at your respective shops. (Y/N), preparing beautiful bouquets of flowers for everything from last minute anniversaries, impromptu date nights, graduations and the frequent wedding arrangements. And Armin, serving up his creative confectionery in the forms of pastries, delectable desserts and his signature cakes that had gone viral a plethora of times. Mainly due in part to his looks but you weren’t mad at it..watching these girls in the comments fawn and swoon over the baby faced baker, knowing that at that exact moment, he had your leg hiked up on his desk as he pounded your little pussy; keeping it exposed to the cool air with this finger hooked around your panties. How he had managed to lure you over there? Under the guise of helping organize some inventory once you closed up for the evening. But rather, the only getting rearranged were your guts. This was a common occurrence for you and Mr. Artlert. A secret love affair between two popular shopkeepers in the exact same neighborhood, all starting when he first invited you over to his place to learn how he created his sweet treats. Granted, the night ended in the two of you doing some less than professional activities. Needless to say, the frosting wasn’t the only thing getting piped! Now here you were..legs in his grasp, ass clapping against him in a thunderous haze and fingers scaling your mouth as he prompted you to drool. Licking them clean of the frosting he used to incite some foreplay. Spreading them on your sensitive nipples, stomach and even your back, which he all slurped up before dicking you down.

“Shit!…Armin—that’s my fucking spot, right there, baby!”

and you didn’t have to tell him twice. That much was apparent by the way that milky white cream began coating his cock. The sounds of squelching reminiscent of when he stirred his sticky batters together. With his head tossed back on his shoulders, the blonde rutted his hips into you, clutching your throat to keep you in his grasp. Voice cracking under pressure as he pulsated deep between those walls.

“Yeah? Well I guess I should put my claim on it then, huh? I just want to nut inside of you..so bad. Please..can I?” Obviously knowing he’d get whatever he wanted when he cooed you like that! And naturally, you’d cave and nod, as your mouth would be too preoccupied still housing his digits. Which was all he needed..before you’d feel his thrusts get rough for a moment and then halt altogether; followed by a loud grunt and his seed spilling inside of you. You had never heard such pretty moans from a man before and with you, he didn’t mind crying out as he came because you felt that damn good! “C’mere..” spinning your head around to shove you into a kiss. The slow, sloppy tongue pecks and suckling, followed by him showering you in sweet nothings. Telling you how pretty you were and how you’d always done so good for him.

“That’s my girl..you never tell me no. That’s why I can’t get enough of you.”

knowing that with (y/n), he’d always have his cake and be able to eat it too.

#cherry’s drabbles🍒 #aot x black reader #black fem reader #black reader #arminarlert #armin x black reader #armin x black reader smut #armin snk #armin smut #eren x armin #armin x black !fem reader #armin x black reader fluff #armin artlert #black reader smut #armin arlert #armin headcanons #baker armin is adorable #baker armin headcanons #armin drabble #armin aot #armin imagines #black reader insert #smut fanfiction #aot au #armin x reader #armin imagine #armin attack on titan #attack on titan armin #snk armin #armin x y/n

[dreamerwithoutadirection]

Sparks Gone Wrong

The time when y/n falls in love with her neighbour- a hot single father 

Warnings: Yandere; Pregnancy Kink; Dub-con; Flashback

Be responsible- consume content according to your mental maturity! This does not represent how Taehyung is in real life.

Part I

It had been a good one month since you had stopped being overly excited at the mere sight of him. And Taehyung could feel his mission slipping away. It was simple- seduce you, get information, scare you away from the case and get out. But his plans went down the drain- the moment you spoke. So soft. And Taehyung felt a sudden rush of possessiveness, he hadn’t in a long time. It wasn’t that he hadn’t seen you before. You were his mission, so obviously he studied you well. But being so close, he felt his heart beating loudly after a long time. Unable to say anything, he settled on, 

“I will leave then, thank you for your time.”

Fuck. Could he have been more lamer than that? Shit. That marked the start of your’s and his relationship in his mind. You were his- the only thing left was to plan how to catch you. However, three months had passed with no visible headway, and by now, Jin seemed to be outpacing him in dismantling all the evidence. 

“Hellooooo…hyung? Are you even paying attention to us?” Jungkook asked frantically, waving his hands in the air to capture Taehyung’s attention. 

Taehyung looked up from the documents secured by Jin hyung, “Of course I am listening, Kook,” he chuckled, “I'm just multitasking, you know? Listening to you guys and working on my plan of action.”

Namjoon let out a scoff. His dragon eyes conveying his disappointment. 

"Your strategy? And what precisely does that entail? Being rude and dismissive to our target and achieving nothing because if yes, then congratulations you have been a charmer” 

“Who says I am not?!” Taehyung shot back heatedly. “I am trying my best to woo her. My strategy of wooing just differs from yours.” 

Namjoon scoffed again. 

“Alright, enough” Jin declared with finality. “If you're not up for this task, Taehyung, be honest. I'll assign it to either Yoongi or Jimin.”

Taehyung felt a surge of jealousy at the thought of you with someone else. The mere thought of you thinking about someone else was enough for him to burn the whole city. A dark gleam sparked in his eyes as a sinister determination overtook the gentle face, unveiling the depths he was willing to go for your sake.

In a blink, he lunged at Jin, squeezing his collar fiercely, “Don’t even think about it, hyung” he spoke slowly, each word dripping with determination and his craze, “She’s mine. You want the confidential papers. You’ll get it by this month.”

With that Taehyung left the quarters, leaving his teammates baffled at this sudden obsession of his with Y/N. They knew it wasn’t going to turn out good. It hadn’t in the past. 

“How dare you look at her?! Taehyung barked at the waiter taking their order for dinner. 

Sasha looked up from the menu to see her boyfriend seething at another poor soul once again. Frankly, she was tired of his antics. Sasha didn’t know when things had started turning ugly like this. 

As she reminisced about their first encounter, she couldn’t help but wonder if things would have turned differently if she hadn’t approached him for help. Sasha’s beloved companion, Barry, had gone missing—a cherished gift from her ailing mother. The day marked her first meeting with the gentle soul she thought Taehyung was. Soon, he was everywhere. His soft gaze and boxy smile reeled in her like the spider reels his prey in; deceptively. 

So, when did things really go wrong? Maybe it was when he first asked her to move in or when she kept ignoring a flash of annoyance that crossed his face at any conversations she had with the opposite gender. Or the strained smiles he gave when she gushed about anyone other than him. 

Sasha felt the familiar hand encircling her waist as another crept up her face. The familiar dread bubbling up. Taehyung crashed his lips on her heavily- biting her lips as if to punish her for the waiter’s advances. 

“Ah-”

“Shh” he whispered, “Do you know who you belong to, jagi?”

Sasha knew what she had to respond to calm him but the words never left her mouth. She kept looking at his raging eyes- begging silently to stop. But when did Taehyung stop?

Taehyung felt outraged at her no response. 

“You know what- I guess I need actions to make your dumb little self understand- who you belong to” 

With that Sasha felt taehyung lift her up to the table- his frenzy hands cupping her breasts- pinching her nipples through the shimmery dress he had bought for her. 

“Tae” Sasha tried to remove his hands- “please- not here” She looked at the waiter watching them. She felt a wave of embarrassment. 

Taehyung turned her head- “me..you should look just at me, jagi. These eyes were made for me. So keep looking here and stop whining” he grunted as his hand removed her panties- playing with her core.

“Do you find him attractive?” Taehyung asked continuing his ministrations- “Taehyung, please stop” Sasha moaned as she felt his finger enter her- back and forth “I- just list- aah”

“So wet..all for me” Taehyung whispered kissing her neck softly “I think it’s time for us to begin planning for family”

Taehyung turned to look at the waiter-  grinning before pushing Sasha on the table. Opening her legs- Taehyung pushed his dick inside her in one go. 

“Tae” Sasha mewled, “we need to tal-”

“I told you to shh jagi. I need to show him; you are mine” he replied as he kept thrusting into her with so much speed that Sasha felt herself feeling dizzy.

“So mine- and what better way than a baby? Your belly” He kissed her navel while rubbing her clit “full with the testament of our love, jagi. Just imagine how beautiful you’ll look when you're pregnant.” 

“I will make sure to put a baby in you tonight” He smiled softly imagining the flowery world of him, her and their child. 

Sasha on the other hand- sensed her dwindling freedom vanish even further.

Taglist: @loumin908; @​​devilzliaison; @princess-sunshyn; @deluluisme

#dark bts #bts yandere #yandere taehyung #yandere bts

[slytherinslut0]

SEVERUS SNAPE ONESHOT- Yours, Always.

Tags: Breakup, Love Story, Fluff, Poet Severus, Heartbreak

It had been almost an entire year.

Almost one whole fucking year since you and Severus broke up--the challenges that you'd faced within your relationship were simply too big to overcome, and as a result, the wedge that formed between you two proved to be insurmountable. But despite your issues, not a day has gone by where you don't find yourself thinking about him, thinking about how much you fucking loved him, and all the reasons in which caused you to fall so hard for him in the first place.

You loved Severus for the enigmatic depth of his soul, the way his piercing intellect and hidden vulnerabilities intertwined. His profound understanding of magic and his fierce loyalty, despite his often aloof demeanor, were entirely captivating.

Beneath his stoic exterior, you'd seen glimpses of a wounded heart yearning for redemption, and you were drawn to the complexity of his character. It was his ability to love so fiercely, even if it was sometimes obscured by the shadows of his past, that made your heart ache for him, and you believed that beneath it all, he was deserving of the love and understanding you longed to offer; and you still believed that, even now, almost a year after you'd broke things off.

Leaving Severus was one of the most agonizing decisions you've ever made. It came from a place of deep pain and frustration, stemming from the insurmountable challenges you'd faced. Your love was undeniable, but it was also a source of constant turmoil and heartache. The emotional distance, the secrecy, and the external threats became overwhelming. You yearned for a love that was more stable, open, and free from the constant fear and tension that shrouded your relationship. It was a heartbreaking choice driven by a desperate need for emotional and physical safety, even though it meant letting go of a love that had once felt like the most magical and intense connection in your life.

And even though you'd had other partners, been with other men--nothing has ever compared. Not a single soul has ever come close to making you feel the way Severus did. Not a single one.

So on this chilled September evening, as the room feels like a sanctuary of solitude, heavy with the weight of time gone by, you find yourself frozen in grief. Shadows dance upon the walls, casting long, wistful silhouettes, as if the very atmosphere mourns a love lost to the sands of time as you sit and reminisce, allowing yourself to wallow in the suppressed pain for a while.

Just as you begin to feel the salty warmth of your tears gliding down your cheeks, you're snapped from your thoughts when your owl, Percy, glides in through the open window, holding a letter between her claws--her wings rustle softly, a mournful symphony that mirrors the heartache in the room. Her eyes, dark and penetrating, seem to hold secrets of the past, and her hoot, though eerie, carries a touch of empathy.

With trembling hands, you take the letter, your fingers tracing the familiar seal with the serpent emblem, Severus's signature. The very sight of his signature stamp sends a pang of longing through your fucking heart, your pulse increasing to an unfathomably quick rate--what the hell could this be? Severus solemnly ever writes you these days.

Upon opening the letter, the inked words appear to bleed with emotion, each stroke of the quill bearing the weight of a love that was, and perhaps still is, unextinguished. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes, blurring the elegant script as memories of your shared moments flood back in vivid detail.

"My Dearest Witch,

How many years must stretch their relentless fingers between us to prove that we are no longer inlove? Seasons have come and gone, the passage of time marked by the whispering winds of summer and the quiet melancholy of September. For how long must we persist to scour the earth for someone new to fill the others shoes?

Do not doubt that there have been others, for I have wandered through the corridors of time seeking solace after facing the reality of your absence; though none could replace the unique cadence of your voice, the way you lulled me with words, the way you breathed my name into the hollow of my neck.

Have you, too, found sanctuary in another's arms? Did they manage to provide the same reverence that you'd experienced from my hands? I ask, if I may, if you have experienced a touch as patient as mine, lips that tasted of desire and warmth that filled the silences between words? Has your heart risen like a crescendo, a wave crashing upon the shore, in the company of another?

Remember, as I whispered to you, 'Love is the only thing that time cannot touch.'

I have never spoken words more true. After all this time, my love for you remains an eternal flame, my guiding light, my morning star. Time itself bears witness to the enduring power of this ancient love, a love I will carry with me across the eons, through vast oceans of existence, down to the tiniest, most fragile inches of my soul, forever guiding me back to you.

If you too find that your heart still calls my name in the silence of your nights, then do write to me. It's time we end this madness, my dear love.

Yours, always,

Severus."

The room seemed to close in around you, the walls echoing with the echoes of your laughter and whispered confessions. Your owl, perched nearby, watches with unblinking eyes, as if understanding the depth of the pain embedded in every word.

As you finished reading the heartfelt letter, a profound sense of genuine happiness enveloped you like a warm embrace. In this unexpected moment, a radiant smile graced your lips, and your heart felt lighter than it had in years. The words in the letter had transported you back to a time when your love burned with an intensity that defied the world. It rekindled cherished memories of shared laughter, whispered confessions, and the depth of your connection.

It was as though the letter had unlocked a treasure trove of emotions that you had thought were lost to time. You felt a surge of joy knowing that, despite the passage of time and the trials you had faced, Severus still carried a flame for you. It was a validation of the profound bond you had once shared. The happiness you felt was not just for yourself but also for the recognition that your love had left an indelible mark on both your hearts.

This letter from Severus is a poignant reminder of a love that, despite its ending, still lingers like a haunting melody. You immediately grabbed your quill and began writing him back.

#smut #severus #severus snape #fanfic #professor snape #severus smut #harry potter #severus x y/n #draco fanfic #lucius malfoy #severus x reader #young severus #severus x lucius #severus x oc #snape x oc #snape defense #snape community #snape content #snape fandom #pro snape #snape fic #snape love #snape smut #snape fanart #snape #snape x reader #snape fanfiction #snapedom #Malfoy #malfoyfamily

[lemmetreatya]

home and away - coworker!toji x fem!reader

thank you for another follower milestone!! 🫂❤️ i love you all so very much and yet again im sorry i couldn’t do an event for it but i hope you all enjoy the holidays 🫶🏾💖

contains: smut, fingering, voyeursim, pen.(fem)

currently thinking about how your voyeurist coworker!toji would be once you’ve gone on a department business excursion.

how he protectively slipped you into his room after the first day of group dinner, your other coworkers a bit too sloshed to notice the sneaky pairing.

or how you’d laugh aloud once you saw the balcony extension past his hotel room curtains and how you knew exactly what he had in mind in bringing you here.

how coworker!toji is able to finger your soppy cunt from behind as you held onto the balcony railing — two fingers pumping in and out of your squelching mess as you writhe forwards in pleasure.

“uh, ah! dont run from me, sweetheart!”

a shit eating grin would plaster his face as his other hand grabs you by your hip, fingers digging into your squidgy flesh as he watches your pussy subconsciously dribble onto his palms, his fingers drenched with your aromatic fluids.

coworker!toji loves having you like this, especially since he gets to hear your wet cries of pleasure call out into the noir night sky over the balcony of the hotel room. he knows the room below and to the right are occupied so his intentions are not to be discreet with you.

“i want everyone to see how well you come over my fingers. how y’er always so weak for me.”

he continues to pump in and out of you, his fingers curling so that they’re able to briefly brush that gooey spot hidden inside of your guts. the picturesque scene of your naked back and the far away lights of the city neighbourhood burning into his brain.

“they’re so clueless. the way they don’t know that we’ve done the same thing in their coffee lounges and offices. they dont know.”

he says more to himself than to you. coworker!toji reminisces the hard-ons he sometimes pops throughout the day when he sees a colleague casually use a desk he knows hes lapped your squirt off of or a chair he knows hes fucked up into you in. hollowing you out like this in the open air with the chances of anyone of those people peeping out to see what you were both doing was turning his cock rock solid.

after hes made you come once, he’s definitely going to fuck you over the balcony.

“to-to-to-toji…”

your words slurred, mind unable to process or harvest anything worthwhile. all your body could produce were whoreish moans of wanton and sticky fluids from both your lips, dribbling everywhere.

“thats it, darling. just mess everywhere for me. i know you’re close, i can feel it. just let go, don’t worry about anything else.”

coworker!toji would finger you to completion as your orgasm noisily waves over you and your cunt pushes out a spit of frothy cream in sync with the heartbeat of your climaxing pussy.

coworker!toji would shower you with praises of ‘good girl’ and ‘well done’ before telling you it was now his turn.

#toji drabbles #toji x reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro #toji x black reader #toji x you