#but she always says such nice compliments to me and maybe she is just really sweet i don't knowwwwww
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Florida!!! | Aaron Hotchner
It’s a two-hour flight from Quantico to Tampa, but the team’s already been up the day before for this case. There’s very little left in all of you to give right now so you’re mostly going through the files again or, more likely, staring blankly at the papers – sleeping with your eyes open. Rossi succumbs to the sweet call of rest first and he will most certainly be mocked for it tomorrow.
Reid is sat behind you and you can feel his frequent jolts. He’s coming in and out of sleep, always fighting it. Hotch is across from you and as always, an unwavering force. He is reading files and keeping notes without a single complaint. Not a single sign of discomfort or an urge to slow down.
You’d think he was a statue, but his humanity prevails through the peaks of facial hair just now growing in, the skin that sinks under his eyes and the softness of his breathing.
You’re no longer too aware of your surroundings, but from the corner of your eye, you see him squirm uncomfortably and glance at you before returning to his notes.
Then-
“You smell very good.”
“Oh, uh, it’s my body lotion, I think. Violet.”
He nods as if taking in the information that he can’t really use.
What exactly was the purpose of that statement? The thought of a scent emitting from the warmth of your body does something to him.
“I’m sorry, that was probably a weird thing to say.”
“Don’t worry, it wasn’t.” He nods again and silence ensues. “Maybe a little? I also feel weird complimenting people on their perfumes, it makes me feel like Buffalo Bill. It rubs the lotion on its skin.”
He laughs and his head drops downward. Full-hearted laughs from Hotch are a rare phenomenon and eliciting one is always a thrilling accomplishment.
“It’s a nice scent, let’s just leave it at that.”
“Let’s.”
-.-.-
Six hours of sleep in the hotel go by in a moment and do little to alleviate the headache that’s been building up. Tylenol it is.
Emily offers you a sympathetic smile when you meet her at the car and pats your back lovingly. You know she is just as tired.
“One of these days they’re going to stop working for me and then I’m really screwed.”
“You’re like a pretty house plant. You thrive only under very specific conditions.”
“That’s right. I only need a full eight hours of sleep, seventy-five-to-eighty-degree weather and a full stomach to not feel sick, I’m honestly very low maintenance.”
She laughs and hands you a coffee.
“I know, honey. I vow to maintain you to the best of my abilities.”
Hotch is listening from inside the car and he’s almost jealous at the comfortable banter. Chat always feels forced to him in one way or another, especially with you. It’s complicated.
You seat behind him and he looks at you through the rear mirror.
“Good morning, Hotch.”
Never boss. Never Agent. You called him Aaron once a very long time ago and he’s clung to it. He can hear it now if he tries.
He makes an effort to be warm to you and there’s a hint of a polite smile.
“Good morning.”
Emily and Spencer join you and after a quick check-in with the rest of the team in the other car, you’re ready to go.
Tampa is hot. And swampy. It was comfortable enough in the beginning when the sun was only coming out but you can’t escape its angry glare anywhere now. Your clothes are starting to cling to you and the Tylenol hasn’t worked.
Aaron notices your discomfort when you sneak away from the rest of the team and head back to the car for some shade. It’s been a long couple of hours driving around and looking at the perp’s dump sites.
“Are you okay?”
You look up and see him lean against the open car door. Brows furrowed, eyes on you. You’re always a little uncomfortable under his gaze.
“Yeah, I’m fine, I just needed a break.”
He’s not too convinced. “Is it the headache?”
“Yeah… I left my sunglasses back at the hotel and that doesn’t help much either.” You take a sip of water just in case it helps. “Who even has the energy to go around and murder people in Florida? I can barely move my arms up and down without wanting to die.”
He laughs again. You’re really getting good at this.
“That’s some fine profiling there, agent. It makes sense to assume the perp is a local.”
You squint your eyes to look at him through all the glaring sunlight and he’s smirking.
“Was that a joke from THE Agent Hotchner? Be still my beating heart.”
You smile at each other for just a second before the sun once again becomes unbearable. Your eyes close on instinct.
“Just give me a second and I’ll be back on my feet.”
“Of course, take your time.”
Next thing you know, you feel a gentle touch at the sides of your face, something being placed on the bridge of your nose. When you open your eyes again, Hotch is covered by a thin veil of black that gives you immense relief.
“Oh, Hotch, it’s not necessary.”
“It’s alright, you need them more. Keep them.”
“Thank you so much.”
He nods, now back to his regular self and walks away when he sees you’re looking better.
You follow close behind him and watch as he joins the group to comment on something Spencer said. Emily leans discreetly toward you, “Are those Hotch’s sunglasses?”
-.-.-
The air-conditioned hotel room is a lovely change of scenery by the end of it all. This time you can really take it all in, you’re not in a rush to go anywhere. A hot shower, clean linen and the scent of pine room spray in the air.
Pine might be an odd choice for a Floridian beach resort, but alright.
You’re drying your hair when someone knocks on your door, which surprises you. The usual routine for everyone in the team is a shower to wash out the filth that you witness and passing out in the queen-sized beds. You assumed they were doing the latter.
“Hi.”
Aaron Hotchner in a t-shirt is definitely something. Seeing him like this, you almost feel like you’re violating him even though he’s the one knocking on your hotel door at half past two in the morning.
“Hi, is there something wrong?”
His brows furrow. He looks anxious.
“Did I wake you up?”
“No, I just got out of the shower, was about to dry my hair and go to bed.” His gaze falls on the water stains forming on your shirt, your hair loose. It looks so soft. “Did you need something?”
“Uh, sort of. The Wi-Fi in my room isn’t working and I have to send in my report before we fly back tomorrow. I tried the reception but they can’t really do anything about it right now.”
“Oh! Of course, you can work from here if you want.”
“Are you sure it wouldn’t be a bother-”
“Hotch, get in here, of course it wouldn’t be a bother. You’re quite literally the most discreet the person in the world.”
He smiles at the praise. It’s a boyish sort of joy to know that you think so highly of him.
“Let me just grab my laptop.”
You watch as he briefly disappears in his room right across from yours and reappears with his laptop and a case file in hand. He stands awkwardly before you, waiting for you to invite him in again and you laugh at his insane need to always be so careful with his movements.
You step back and he understands, joining you inside the room.
“Give me a second to clear my things off the bed and you can get to work, okay?”
“I can just take the chair, it’s no big deal.”
“That’s actually even harder for me right now because all my clothes are on that chair. You can absolutely sit on the bed as long it’s not with outside clothes, because yuck.”
You both laugh and you think it’s because of your hyperbole but he’s laughing at the way your nose scrunches when you say it.
“I never wear my outside clothes to bed.”
“Of course you don’t.”
You make space for him in your bed that smells like laundry softener and you from the night before. It’s your body lotion. Violet.
He can’t help but think it’s a nice place to be.
“I’m just going to blow-dry my hair in the bathroom, hopefully that won’t make too much noise at this hour. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Sure.”
You don’t think you’ve ever made this much eye contact with Hotch in a single day but tonight, he’s insistent on looking right in your eyes with every word he speaks. It’s odd, but not uncomfortable. You could certainly get used to it.
You only get a solid minute and a half of blow drying before you decide you can’t be certain that the walls prevent the sound from reaching other rooms. It’s a cruel thing to do at this hour, even though the only other person you know on this floor is your boss that’s currently sitting on your bed like a teenager doing homework.
“I’m done.”
He looks at you star-struck, something about the familiarity of this moment really getting to him. The two of you have never been like this before and he’s always felt a certain amount of regret over not being as close with you as the other members of the team have managed. That’s the curse of being a stone, he supposes. People will eventually treat you like one.
“I won’t take long; I just need to finish up the rest and send it.”
“Don’t worry, you can stay as much as you need.”
He glances at the bottle of melatonin on the nightstand.
“How come you’re not already dozing off?”
“I just wanted to relax a little before I did. Felt disgusting after today.”
He hums. Was it the heat? Was it the humidity? Was it the empty look inside the perp’s eyes when he was finally caught? Like there was no humanity there, nothing to see but cruelty. He won’t ask.
“Do you have trouble falling asleep?”
You also glance at the bottle, then at him. “Are you profiling me, Agent Hotchner?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be inquisitive. I just thought you could fall asleep everywhere. Several long hours in the jet have proved so, at least.”
His attempt to lighten up the mood works and he’s thankful.
“I can, I just have trouble staying asleep once I do. Especially with all the changes in time zone; it really messes with me.”
He smiles at you so warmly. This is Aaron. Not Agent Hotchner, not even Hotch, just Aaron sitting on your hotel bed with his knee bumping into yours. “Like a pretty house plant.”
You smile back and try not to think too hard about the repercussions of him calling you pretty, even though he’s technically repeating another person’s words.
“Do you have trouble falling asleep?”
“I do sometimes… it can be tough.”
Aaron’s brown eyes are so soft under the dimmed lights.
“It really can be.”
The spell of eye contact breaks before it becomes too intense.
“Do you mind if I also sit here until you finish?”
His hand twitches at his side, begging to touch; to reassure you.
“Of course not. It’s your bed.”
“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“You couldn’t.”
You watch some TV while he works away, often stealing glances at the way his hands move over the keyboard. They’re very nice to look at; all veins and rough skin. They suddenly stop and shut the laptop.
“I’m finished, so I can finally leave you to your rest. I’m really sorry for the intrusion.”
You sit up from your cozy spot, alarmed at the thought of his departure when you’re finally getting used to his presence here.
“I told you, there was no intrusion. I’m glad I was able to help.”
He smiles at you again, this time a little more reserved. It’s as if the bubble of intimacy has burst and now it’s all awkward again.
“I should leave so you can get some sleep.”
“Yeah.” You watch as he gets up and moves toward the door, “Although…”
The suggestion of something else following stops in him in his tracks.
“I don’t think I’m in the mood to sleep right now and I’d really just like some coffee.”
He moves again, turning to face you completely. Eye contact, again.
“I could actually go for some coffee. Breakfast doesn’t start being served for a few more hours though.”
You sigh, maybe it’s the sleep deprivation but it feels like neither of you wants to let go.
“Maybe we could head out? See if there’s any place open in the neighborhood?”
You watch as he glances at the door, then back at you. “Yeah. Yes, let’s do that.”
“Meet you in the hallway in five?”
“I’ll be there.”
-.-.-
The hotel is fairly close to the airport and you guess East Tampa is not the place to be for nightlife. The streets are empty save for the occasional passing car.
“Should we take the car?”
“We could do that, or…”
“Or?”
“We could explore the East Tampa wilderness by foot. I hear they recently got rid of the alligators.”
He laughs, “Will you ever tire of the Florida jokes?”
“Not ever, no.”
“Good, I like hearing them.”
East Tampa is more walkable than you expected.
“See, they even have tiny slivers of sidewalk! We might as well be in Paris.”
“Magical.” he hums, walking slightly behind you so you don’t bump into each other.
God forbid you cross that boundary while wandering around a foreign city with your coworker, alone, when it’s almost four am and you’re both wearing pajamas outside. God forbid.
You can feel him leading you through the streets despite being right behind you and neither of you really knowing where you’re heading. He guides you through his sturdy footsteps, the quiet breathing that finds and leaves your ear again with every step.
“We can try turning left here.”
You would trust him anywhere.
The moment you make the turn and make room for him beside you, a car practically zooms by. It makes you dizzy when he holds on to you immediately, pulling you toward him until you’re sure you’ve stepped all over his shoes. He looks so angry when you turn to him and for a moment, you think it might be at you.
“Going 50 in a 25? That guy’s going to get someone killed.”
“Yeah, I underestimated the traffic.”
“Are you okay?
“Sure, I am, it was just fast.”
“Take the sidewalk, I’ll walk on this side, alright?”
You don’t argue with him, there is no point.
“Thank you.”
At the end of the street, you can make out the joyous neon sign of a 7-Eleven.
“Ah! We’ve reached civilization!”
“Can you really call 7-Eleven that?”
“Barely.”
-.-.-
The coffee is so deliciously warm and even though the weather doesn’t call for it, it brings you comfort.
An employee is eyeing you suspiciously from the window while you seat on the pavement outside and you don’t know why. Your clothes are sleepwear, sure, but you’ve seen at least five people in the city strut around in nothing but jean shorts and flip-flops so is there really room for judgement here?
Aaron discreetly scoots closer to you as if to be heard better but the street’s already incredibly quiet.
“This was a great idea, actually.”
You smile at him and keep sipping your coffee.
“We can go back to the hotel now if you want.”
“Are you tired?”
“No,” you see him tilt his head in doubt and you think the bags under your eyes might have reached your chin by now, “I mean, my body is, but my mind is right here with you.”
He smiles back at you in such a sweet way, it reaches his eyes.
“I don’t want to then.”
If you do, you have to go back to separate rooms and miss this opportunity for one perfect sunrise.
You move closer to him and he thinks you might tell him a secret, “Should we keep walking?”
“Walk toward where?”
Your shoulders relax.
“Do you have your map with you? We can walk until we reach the beach.”
His smile doesn’t falter a bit, “I think the nearest beach is like, an hour from here on foot.”
“That’s a lot. We can walk until we don’t feel like walking anymore then.”
“Another good idea.”
“I know you live in constant admiration of me but all this praise might just get to my head.”
He gets up first and puts out his hand for you to grab, “Oh, has it not already?”
When you take him up on his offer, his grasp is incredibly strong, yet tender. He pulls you up like it’s nothing but he’s careful not to hurt you in the process.
He doesn’t let go of your hand, drinks in the casual banter like the two of you might never speak again.
Your other hand is holding your coffee and you instinctively touch your forehead to his shoulder in protest for just a second, “I am a very down-to-earth person.”
The bare skin under his sleeve grows warm where you touched it.
“The most.”
He, still, doesn’t let go of your hand.
“How cruel of you to mock me when I’m dressed like this and haven’t slept.”
He laughs.
“I’m sure you mock me all the time with the team when I’m not listening.”
His tone hasn’t changed to indicate if he’s serious or not, but you feel very uncomfortable at the thought of him assuming that you and the squad might speak ill of him.
“I would never mock you, Hotch. I know we all poke fun at each other, but I admire you. Deeply.”
“I admire you too. Deeply.”
You walk side by side and your hand rests loosely clasped in his. He tells himself it’s to keep you safe and you let him guide you everywhere; anywhere. Nothing but trust there.
After a while, he stops and looks at you.
“I do really want to go to the beach.”
You laugh because the notion of Aaron Hotchner really wanting to do something seems so alien.
So far, you’ve assumed he’s just going along for the ride.
“I guess we could look for a cab?”
-.-.-
It’s almost dawn and there is no one here you can see. Just soft sand that will most definitely get everywhere inside your clothes and the sound of waves crashing softly when they reach the shore.
You’re looking at them, he’s looking at you.
The two of you sit closer now than ever before.
“It’s going to officially be morning soon.”
He instinctively turns to his wrist but his watch is back at the hotel discarded somewhere, so you reach for your phone and show him the time. It almost ruins the illusion of no time existing around you, but he won’t allow it. He will bend it to his will as he does with all else, just to stay here.
“We don’t have to be back until nine.”
The realization that he also doesn’t wish to leave makes you smile. That’s barely enough time to get properly dressed when you’re back at the hotel and then drive to the airport. It’s so unlike him.
‘I haven’t been at the beach in so long.”
You can picture him now, turning bright red under the sun and playing around with Jack.
“Do you not go with Jack?”
His lips pull downward and you immediately regret asking.
“We haven’t taken a vacation in so long.”
“I’m really sorry, I didn’t want to-”
“Don’t worry, you didn’t say anything wrong. We probably should take one soon.”
Your hand touches his, just a tiny bit, pinkies finding each other.
“You should take him to the beach.”
“Perhaps we’ll take you too.”
“Oh, I don’t know if my boss will allow that. I am indispensable to the team.”
“I’m sure we can work something out.”
You laugh and lie backwards when your back has finally had enough of all the crouching.
“That was actually my plan all along. I lured you here to get more vacation days.”
He watches you from above, entranced by the image of you splayed out on the sand. Your hair forms a halo around you and the sand seems golden when the first rays of sunlight finally find it. Your eyes do too, “I should have known.”
It feels awkward, sitting when you’re lying down, so he succumbs to the sand at last. You beam at him when he does, relishing in the way he’s come undone before you. You can really look at each other now, there’s no more pretending that the sea has your full attention. Shades of pink and orange in the sky, sea foam landing near your feet, but this is really all there is.
“Do you ever think of quitting the job?”
This really messes with him all of the sudden. You can see the change in the way his body tenses.
“Do you?”
“I asked first.”
He releases a deep breath and you can almost feel warm on your face, “Sometimes, but it’s the only thing I’m good at. I wouldn’t know what else to do.”
“That’s not true. You’re good at many things.”
He avoids your gaze and you know you’ve really struck a nerve here.
“Not good enough.”
“Now, that’s really not true. You’re brilliant at everything you do.”
He sits up, suddenly very aware of his vulnerability.
“Or I just give everything I have to this job and my bare minimum to everything else. Even Jack.”
“That’s not fair, Aaron. You’re a very good father to Jack and I know just how much he looks up at you. Even if it’s the bare minimum sometimes, your bare minimum is a lot more than other people can give at their best. It’s just hard to keep a balance.”
He feels your hand touch his back gently, asking for permission. The way he relaxes under your touch grants it and you move your thumb in circles as a soft caress. He turns to face you.
“Are you thinking of leaving?”
Your hand drops, shocked at the sudden change in his tone. He seems so full of emotion like this; all layers peeled away before you.
“Not decisively. They’re just thoughts,” Aaron seems unconvinced by your answer and your gaze falls downward in an attempt to escape the scrutiny, “I just don’t know if this is something I can do forever, so from time to time, I think about what else there might be out there. Maybe going private, opening up an office.”
“You want to be a therapist?”
“I am licensed.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Maybe. It definitely seems… easier.”
He doesn’t really know what to say. He knows it would be good for you, he knows this job will eat away at you until there’s very little left there. It’s what it did to him, but the thought of it happening to you seems much more unbearable.
“The team would miss you,” is such a typically professional thing of him to say, so the rest surprises you, “I would miss you.”
“I would miss you too.”
Tenderness, again. Now that he’s started, he doesn’t think he can stop.
“This has been one of the best days I’ve had in a while. I mean, being with Jack always makes me feel much better, but this… being like this with an adult-with you, it’s really nice.”
You smile and adjust your body to be closer to him.
“Really nice.”
From the corner of your eye, you can make out a convenience store in the distance that’s just now opening up.
“Would you allow me to treat you to some ice cream before we go?”
He stands up first, offering you his hand like before.
“I think you know me well enough to know that I won’t,” he stands up first and offers you his hand like before, “I am definitely buying.”
“Worth a try.”
There is sand all over his hair and shoulders. Being this relaxed, it suits him incredibly.
“Can I?”
He leans down and toward you, surrendering to the freedom of your touch when you pat off what sand you can see on him. All these hours of crossing boundaries and you’re still not entirely sure how you’ve gotten so comfortable with him, but he melts every time you touch him, as if experiencing gentleness for the very first time.
Might as well be the first time, he figures.
“You have some too in your hair.”
You turn around and he almost envelops you, although he’s hesitant in the beginning. Both his hands entangle themselves in your hair, those lovely hands, and softly separate and pat where needed. You always knew he hid softness underneath, just didn’t know it was there for you to enjoy.
You get your ice cream, gag when you taste just how much lemon zest they have put in the vanilla and he offers to exchange with his chocolate. Says he does it with Jack all the time and you gasp at the connotation.
“It is absolutely not childish to not like citrus fruits secretly involved in every dessert.”
He hums and smiles at you, bites and licks right where your own mouth was a moment ago. It puts thoughts in both of your heads.
You walk the entire way back and your feet definitely feel it, but you’re too focused on the feeling of impending separation. You will see each other again in half an hour but it just won’t be the same.
It might never be the same.
When you’re finally ready to part from each other in the hallway, he thinks about kissing you. Thinks you would taste like chocolate and waffle on his mouth, thinks a lot about the tiny bit of violet body lotion left on your neck that he can smell from this distance.
Would it really change that much? Is that the final line to cross after tonight?
He doesn’t have any answers, so he doesn’t.
“I’ll see you in a bit.”
“See you in a bit, Aaron.”
He’s going to cling on your use of his first name for a while, although when you’re back in the jet, it’s as if nothing happened. Now clad in his usual attire, he’s regular Hotch; prim and proper, sat upright with crossed arms in his seat in the only way he knows how to rest in front of others.
Yet, you know. You see Aaron in the gentle shutting of his eyes, the tiny remnants of sand in his hair.
Something has changed.
A/N: A Hotch fic in 2024? It's more likely than you think. There will absolutely be another part to this.
Find me @MadeofLilies in Ao3!
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner#criminal minds#thomas gibson#aaron hotchner imagine#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine
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It is what it is - Tendou x Reader x Ushijima (platonic)
Another one of my "this is my boyfriend and this is my boyfriend's best friend" fics. This has been going round and round in my head the whole weekend, I hope I could put all the feeling into this that I felt about it. Tell me what you think.
Tagging: @lees-chaotic-brain and @satorisoup because in a way, it's Tendou
“Aren’t you worried people are going to call you out for this?” Satori asks, teasing lilt in his voice. “Flying all the way to Paris for a haircut?”
“I don’t care,” Wakatoshi exclaims, bathing in your joyful giggling and Satori’s amused snort.
“Whatever you say. I’ll see you after work, okay?” The redhead brushes a hand over his buzzcut before leaning over to kiss you - Wakatoshi averts his eyes on instinct.
“See you later. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
You hold Satori’s hand all the way to the door, watch him step into the elevator before you turn back.
“Alright, now that we’re on our own. What do you want me to do with your hair? Some color? A buzzcut?”
“The usual,” he asks, closing his eyes when you pat his shoulder.
There’s so much understanding in your words, your action, the simplest touch.
Oh, how he’s missed you.
-
“Wakatoshi, stand straight,” his mother orders. His father’s hands are warm on his shoulders as he stiffens, posture perfect now.
“This is my good friend,” she explains just seconds later and Wakatoshi can see it, in the harsh lines and the absence of a smile.
“And this is her daughter. It would make us very happy if you two would marry one day.”
“Love-” His father says in that tone he uses when he asks his mother to change her mind on something. She rarely listens.
“Of course, nothing will be settled until you are older,” she speaks over him yet again. “But I am sure you two will be fast friends.”
The adults leave them alone after that, with nothing but a plate of healthy snacks and glasses of water.
You are nice to look at, he thinks. Unlike your mother, you’re curves and softness, eyes glittering as you shyly ask what he likes to do in his free time.
“My father plays Volleyball with me sometimes,” he explains, “Or I read.”
“Could you show me?” You ask, pulling your lower lip between your teeth as you wait for his answer.
“The books or Volleyball?” He asks, not really understanding. He’s not good at reading between the lines, as his mother calls it. He hopes you won’t mind.
But your face lights up at his question, a sight he wants to see again.
“Both?” You ask and when he nods and turns to show you to his room first, your hand shoots out to curl into his, warm and small and soft.
He can’t remember the last time he held someone’s hand, but he squeezes yours like his father used to do with his and your smile tells him what he did was the right thing.
-
“Is this okay?” You ask, soft voice floating around him as you drag a comb through his hair.
“It always is,” he answers, stilling as you move to assess your work.
“It looks good,” you decide finally, smiling as you grab a mirror, making a show of presenting it. “You look good, Toshi.”
“You look better,” he insists, but it sounds foreign in his mouth.
He’s not one to compliment someone’s appearance and he can see the surprise in your eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he apologizes immediately, “It’s something I heard Satori say.”
“I thought it sounded familiar,” you agree easily before patting his cheek. “I sometimes lend sentences from him as well.”
“Pray tell.”
You smile, handing him the mirror again. “First you have to tell me how it looks.”
“Perfect,” he says, because it is. He looks the way he’s used to, the same haircut he’s had for years. You embrace routine as much as he does. Maybe that’s why the two of you clicked so well.
“Now,” you smile, “I’ll make us some tea. I’m sure I still have some sweets hidden where Satori won’t look if you want them.”
“I’d rather have something healthy,” he admits and your smile doesn’t flicker, it grows.
“Like the old days,” you agree easily.
It warms his heart that you remember the beginnings of your friendship as well as he does.
-
“Are you leaving?” Satori asks, looking up from his Shonen Jump.
“Yes,” Wakatoshi agrees, tying his shoelaces. “I will be back before lights out.”
“I’m not worried about that,” Satori laughs, “I’m curious. Where are you going?”
“I’m meeting with a friend.”
“Do I know him?”
“No, you don’t know her.”
The surprise is loud on his face, dark eyes widening.
“A girlfriend?” Satori gasps, hands pressed against his lips in excitement.
“A friend that’s a girl,” Wakatoshi corrects. For a second he stills, doorknob in his hand. “Do you want to join us?”
Satori blinks. Once, twice, three times.
“Are you sure?”
“No. But I think she might like you.”
“In that case… give me five minutes.”
“I’ll inform her that we’ll come in later.”
“We won’t be late if we run,” Satori sings, diving into his closet to pull out something to wear that doesn’t wear the Shiratorizawa emblem.
.
Wakatoshi is usually blind to social cues, no matter how much he studies them. He still can’t read between the lines, but he can’t say he’s given it much thought lately.
He’s good at Volleyball and he’s excelling in his studies. What else is there in life?
You’ve never complained about him missing something either, clearly content with the state of your friendship. And if there’s someone’s opinion he cares about, it’s not his mother's, it’s yours.
But he can see it now, written in bold letters on your face, your eyes, the shiver of your hesitant smile.
You look at Satori like the girls from his class look at him before he begins to speak.
Your hand twitches as if to hold his but you hesitate.
He turns to look, surprised to see his only other friend just as changed.
Satori is supposed to be the confident one. Loud and unapologetically himself.
This Satori, however, is blushing, staring at the tips of his sneakers only for his eyes to flicker upwards and back to you for only a second before looking back down.
Is this, Wakatoshi thinks, a little dumbfounded that it’s happening in front of him of all people, is this falling in love?
-
It’s cold, even for Spring in Europe. You curl further into the warmth of your jacket, hands stuffed into the pockets to keep warm.
The day had been bathed in a grey light that’s now dimming fast, street lamps and the warm glow of shop windows battling against the coming night.
Wakatoshi’s hand reaches out without a thought, folding around yours like he used to when you were little.
You look up with surprise and he’s not sure if he should regret this or not.
“You’re worried,” you tell him, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. “I can see it now. I was wondering what was wrong, but you wouldn’t say and I didn’t want to push.”
He opens his mouth to insist that he’s fine, a lie he’s been telling himself for weeks now, almost mastering to make himself believe it.
“Don’t lie, Toshi,” you ask and it’s the nickname that unravels him, a memory from long forgotten times resurfacing.
“I love you,” he admits, words spilling out of him like Volleyballs out of an upturned cart. They’re unstoppable, now that they’ve been set free.
But your smile doesn’t fade and your hand only squeezes his.
“I know, Toshi.”
His eyes flicker to the dark asphalt and back up.
“But Satori-”
“You don’t love me like Satori loves me, do you, Toshi?”
Your voice is warm and comfortable, like a blanket he wants to curl into.
“I don’t know,” he admits, because this is you. He’s always been honest with you.
“But I do,” you tell him softly, reaching up to cup his cheek with your other hand. “You’ve never looked at me in that way. We both know it, Satori and I, we both know you. What is worrying you?”
The question hits him like one does a tuning fork, everything in him vibrating to the point he fears he’ll fall apart.
“I miss you,” he says, his voice carrying something he cannot begin to describe.
Hurt, loneliness, despair, insecurity. Will I ever be enough?
“Oh Toshi,” you rub your thumb under his eye, catching a tear that must have slipped out. “We miss you too. But we love you, okay? And even though it feels like that sometimes, you’ll never be alone.”
He considers it, smoothes it over the open wound inside of him like one does with a balm.
Another voice pops up, cuts through the noise inside his head like a warm knife through butter.
“There you are. I was looking for you.”
They both turn and Wakatoshi isn’t sure what he anticipates to see in his best friend’s face.
Anger, maybe, or betrayal.
Not this kind of soft worry he isn’t used to.
You say something in French he doesn’t quite catch and Satori steps closer, wraps one impossible long arm around his shoulders, and curls into him.
“Can’t fool us, big boy,” he says with a voice so warm it feels like hot chocolate tastes, “Knew something was up when you asked to travel all the way here for a haircut.”
It might look strange to someone looking in, the three of them hugging in the cold night on the middle of the sidewalk.
But it’s not strange to Wakatoshi.
He should have known. These are his friends. His family.
His home away from home.
-
“Is this really okay?” Satori asks, kneeling on the floor next to Wakatoshi’s bed. “You’ve got to be honest with me here, okay?”
“I am.”
“I am going to marry her if you let me, you know this!”
“I’d be happy if you did,” Wakatoshi insists. “If she wants you, that is.”
Satori snorts but it sounds more like a sob. “You think she likes me?”
“She said so, didn’t she?”
“Yeah,” the word is more a dreamy sigh than anything else. Satori puts his head back and stares up at the ceiling.
“I didn’t know people like her existed,” he says, voice far away. Wakatoshi turns to look at him.
“Girls?” He asks, a little confused.
“Kind people,” Satori explains, “with a good heart. Who don’t judge about someone’s looks.”
“Did that happen to you?” Wakatoshi asks, thinking about himself and his mother and you.
There’s something in Satori’s eyes, something vulnerable and open that he hasn’t seen before.
Wakatoshi pats the bed next to him before he can pull himself away again. Satori is nice. He wants to know him.
“Tell me about it?” He asks.
.
“You’re not good with social cues, are you?” Satori asks one day after lunch, walking back to Class.
“No.”
“The girl that was talking to you, she wanted me to leave.”
“Why?”
“Because she likes you. She wanted to be alone with you.”
Wakatoshi stops, freezing in place.
“What?” Satori asks, walking back to him. “What are you thinking about?”
“Do you want to be alone?”
Satori understands immediately. “Sometimes, yeah. But I’d tell you that, you know? Right now we barely manage to hold hands without our faces combusting. And I like having you there. She does too, I know.”
“How?”
“She said so,” Satori pulls out his phone, drags his thumb across the screen for a minute before he holds it up for Wakatoshi to see.
It’s an entire conversation he’s not been part of, your blocks of texts interspersed with the emojis Satori likes to use.
But he can read it, black letters on a white background.
“Wakatoshi is the most important person in my life.” It warms his heart like hot chocolate on a cold night.
“And since you’re my best friend too,” Satori singsongs, “You’re not getting rid of either of us.”
“Good,” Wakatoshi nods and repeats it once more for good measure. “Good.”
-
“Poland is not that far away,” you point out over morning coffee. Your hair’s a mess and you sit in Satori’s lap, leaning back into him every few minutes to remind him to feed you one more bite of the croissants Wakatoshi bought on his morning run.
“It’s not France.”
“Yeah, but the French team sucks,” Satori exclaims, “You’d lose all happiness playing for them just to be close. The Polish team sounds good if you ask me. And it’s really not that far. You could come over once or twice a month depending on your schedule.”
“I’ll think about it,” he agrees, buying himself some time with a sip from his coffee.
His wound is still open, though it has stopped bleeding.
“Do you think I’ll find someone,” he asks, yet again unable to keep the words inside before he has thought them through.
Satori and you both turn your heads to the side as you think, a habit that started with one person but he’s no longer sure with whom.
“Maybe you will,” you say, “maybe you won’t. You can be happy either way.”
“Don’t lose sight of what’s important to you,” Satori adds, “because it can be easier than you think. To give up on a boundary just because you think you have to.”
He considers that for a second.
“If I’ll never find someone-” Your hand finds his before he’s able to finish the sentence, squeezing as hard as you can.
“You’ll never be alone,” you insist. Satori’s larger hand wraps around yours until again, you are three.
- - -
The French Countryside is not a bad place to retire.
“Look what I found,” Satori raises a basket full of fruit, each looking better than the last, “everything from our own garden.”
“I thought you wanted to work less,” Wakatoshi comments, picking a plump apricot from the basket and biting into it. It’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.
“Ah, this isn’t work,” Satori insists, but he puts the basket down, pressing a hand to his back for a second. “I just need to slow down a little.”
“You should,” Wakatoshi agrees, but makes no move to pick up the basket himself. His back is even worse than Satori’s.
“Boys, boys,” your voice comes from inside, “Leave the hard work to someone younger. I’ve made coffee and tea, what do you want?”
They turn and walk inside, Satori singing yet another made-up song about the market in the village.
When he reaches you, he kisses your temple first and then your lips, squeezing your hips under the apron.
Wakatoshi has gotten used to the sight after decades. He’s more interested in his coffee and maybe the morning paper.
“Has anyone seen my glasses?” He asks, squinting down at the paper.
Satori laughs. “On your head,” he tells him, but stays where he is, glued to your side.
It’s like this everyday and if someone would dare to ask, Wakatoshi wouldn’t mind living like this for another decade or two.
After all, one hasn’t lived before turning one hundred.
My Kofi if you'd like to tip me
#my writing#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu x you#haikyuu!!#hq x reader#Tendou x reader#Tendou Satori#Tendou fluff#Ushijima x reader#Ushijima Wakatoshi#Ushijima fluff#Tendou x reader x Ushijima
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#pokemon#charizard#squirtle#ivysaur#celebi#jirachi#latias#my art#traditional art#every time i look at charizard i always remember my teacher saying that the way that i draw him he's very handsome😆😂#she even said that i drew him better than him from the anime not sure if i good in that level😅~🌸#(maybe she was just trying to be nice and encouraging me maybe she didn't mean it💧...but i think she does really mean it!)#it was a very nice compliment✨ i always remember haha😆#yeah~ he does have a charm✨
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#little ramble-#aghhhh just had unexpected lunch with the girl i think i might like and it was so nice :))))#she keeps on noticing and categorizing my mannerisms which i can't tell if it's nice or bad#but also she says things like i'm chaotic and when i don't know how to respond she says it's a good thing and that i'm unique and special#and eeeeek.#she smiles so much when we talk and i can't tell if it's because i am smiling the whole time...#but she always says such nice compliments to me and maybe she is just really sweet i don't knowwwwww
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could you please write something where maybe bombshell!reader hears one of the team members teasing about how she’s torturing spencer and she kinda backs off with the flirting and maybe it’s his turn to hold her hand and call her cute names because even though he always says he doesn’t mind, maybe he does and he just doesn’t want to tell her
tysm for requesting, 1k
Spencer's hair is brown silk in the sun. You bite your tongue to hold in a compliment rearing to come out, saccharine and completely true. Looking sweet, Spence.
You love to compliment him and especially while Hotch is out of earshot. He and Derek play pairs against two agents from a different unit, their tennis racquets a shiny FBI navy. You start to speak and bite it back —a memory flashes, a shouting stop sign.
You'd been teasing Spencer as he left the room, something about his indecisive hair. He's cut it shorter but left his curls without product, and you love it.
Poor guy, Emily'd murmured, lips set against the rim of her coffee cup.
What's the matter with him? you asked, perplexed.
Nothing, just that he spins into a total meltdown every time you guys are within ten feet of each other. He must be exhausted.
She was joking and you know that, but something deep down worries she's right. It's not fair for you to keep winding him up… Especially when Spencer might be going along with you because he isn't sure how to say no.
What if you're forcing yourself on him?
You're sitting together on a small blanket in the grass with Anderson and a few of the other less competitive BAU agents. You bring your bottled iced tea to your forehead to cool down, condensation wetting your hot skin. The top of your head feels as though it has the full concentration of the sun beating against it.
Spencer looks up at your movement. He's been reading a book for pleasure, or so he says, so he isn't going a mile a minute but he's still way faster than the average Joe. "Do you want to go find some shade?" he asks.
"You look comfortable," you say, putting your iced tea aside.
Which is to say, I don't want you to come with me, it would disrupt you. Spencer nods and turns to the brown leather of his familiar satchel, popping the buckle open to dig around inside.
"Do you think this would be okay?" he asks, bringing out his baseball cap.
The fabric is starchy and the brim stiff as you accept it and wedge it over your head. You don't immediately cool, but your heart spins strange loops. "Thank you," you say. Thank you, handsome, gorgeous, baby, all beg to be said.
Spencer stays looking at you for longer than normal.
"Do I have something on my face?" you ask, swatting self consciously at your cheeks.
"Nothing. You look really pretty," he says.
"Thank you." Another loop. You point at his book, fingertip hitting a creamy page with a small thud. "Is this any good?"
"I think you'd really like it, it feels like that last book I borrowed from you, and you loved that. They're very similar. I can lend it to you when I'm done."
"Don't rush it for my sake."
Spencer gives you a private smile. "I won't. Just because you could watch a movie at two times speed doesn't mean you should."
Your returning smile isn't half as nice. No shared lightness, no bright eyes. You're feeling awkward and unhappy —you really like Spencer. Like, you think you could be happy together for a long long time sort of like. He's charming and sweet and no one is ever as kind to him as he deserves, which is why you're trying to be kind now by putting distance between you.
You'll be brash forever. You can't change that, and Spencer doesn't need the stress of dealing with you, not on top of everything else.
His smile fades as yours does. Quiet, without fuss, he scoots back on the picnic blanket, putting you knee to knee. The subtle muscle of his arm presses to yours and his hand wraps gently around your wrist as he dips his head down, his cheek touching briefly to your shoulder.
"I know it's nice, but if the heat is getting to you we should go inside," he says, his fingers sliding across your palm to slot between your own. He squeezes your hand. "Heat stroke isn't obvious at first. Do you feel woozy?"
You stare at your twined fingers. He surprises you again, being this soft with you, and being uncharacteristically forward. Or maybe not uncharacteristic at all; Spencer won't let something like timidity stop him from comforting someone that needs it.
"Spence," you murmur, closing your eyes, face angled down.
"What?"
"I'm sorry if I… If I've been messing you around. But I don't think this is a good idea."
"What's not a good idea?"
You can't make yourself say it. Instead, you rub the back of his hand, more for your own comfort than his, your tongue like a useless lump in your mouth.
"You're sorry? Are you sure you're okay?" Spencer asks, no heed to the people sitting with you as he lets go of your hand to put his arm behind your shoulder like a shield.
"I don't want to torture you," you say.
Your friends love that word. You torture Spencer with your flirting and your easy affection.
Spencer makes a face, eyes squinting and nose wrinkled. "They're just kidding when they say that. Emily, Morgan, they like making fun of me, it's like, sibling bonding or something. They don't say it because there's actually something to feel sorry about." He lowers his voice, bashful but sincere at once, "If you're torturing me, I guess I'm a masochist."
You laugh without thinking, a breathless, girlish sound you'd regret if you had the wherewithal. "You're a masochist?" you ask.
He takes the brim of your borrowed hat and pushes it up to unobstruct the view of your eyes.
"If that's what it takes," he says. A hint of wryness creeps into his otherwise smooth tone.
Despite his brave talk and his steady eye contact, his face has started to blush. A rosy hue kisses the tops of his cheeks and his nose, a dusting of pink splodges stark against his paleness. The curve of his lips seems extra tantalising now. He's very, very pretty.
And he doesn't mind stepping in to take the reins when you're unsure of things.
"We really should sit in the shade for a bit," he says. "Let's get drinks from the gazebo. Yeah?"
You're halfway through a nod when he kisses your cheek too quickly for you to respond. You follow him to the gazebo without any more reluctance, weaselling your hand back into his, and attempt to pull another kiss from him.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader
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I’ve been obsessed w the movie since seeing it! Could you write something for ryan gosling Ken! where reader (a Barbie lol) compliments him on something and he then start’s following her around like a puppy and she invites him over for a sleepover (Barbie’s never miss girls night but she’ll miss it for him) just fluff maybe some cuddles with Ken having his hair played w and some kisses I just need to give him some love thank you <3
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ you are Kenough
ryan gosling! ken x f! reader
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
IT was a pretty normal day in the barbieland. you were chilling at the beach with your best friend, — allan. it isn’t surprising that you spend almost every second with him; you didn’t expect that it was going to change anytime soon. right now, you and allan were "drinking" your colorful drinks with paper umbrellas as decorations. it was a beautiful day (to be honest, every day in barbieland was just perfect).
“hi barbie!” you heard ken calling your name as you just smiled at him and waved.
“hi ken!” you have always liked Ken; he was hilarious, and sometimes he could be really sweet. “i really like your outfit today, ken, it suits you.” you smiled nicely, being honest with him.
“thank you, barbie, you also look pretty” he said, and you only smiled shyly at his compliment. allan sent you a surprised look because he didn’t know that you would like Ken. maybe it was fear that he would lose you (of course it wasn’t true). but at the same time, you knew that he was supporting.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
barbie doesn’t knew that it was only the beginning.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
AFTER this situation, Ken started to be your shadow; he was in every place you were. he always wanted to make you happy with compliments and sweet gestures. other barbies also found it sweet because he was just the perfect ken for you.
today was girls night at the stereotypical barbie’s dream house. you loved them, and you always have the best time with all barbies. but today you wanted to spend time alone with ken, you loved sleepovers with allan, so why don't you do it with ken instead? you find Ken standing on the beach doing nothing, so you come to him and poke his arm to get his attention.
“hi barbie! how are you?” he asked as you smiled at him.
“i’m doing fine, thank you. i was wondering if you want to have a sleepover with me today?” you asked him, wishing that he would say ‘yes’.
“as a girlfriend and boyfriend?” he crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. you nodded excitedly, and he instantly agreed.
“what will we do as a boyfriend and girlfriend?” ken asked you as you two walked to your house.
“we can hold hands, we can kiss our cheeks, and we can cuddle,” you answered as he smiled at you sweetly, grabbed your hand, and kissed your cheek as you smiled flatter.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
YOU two were at your house, sitting on your bed under the pink fluffy blanket. you knew that you skipped the girls' night, but you were happy to lay and cuddle with ken, and girls night was every night, so you could spend this one time doing something else.
you closed your eyes and placed your head on ken’s torso.
“i love to be your girlfriend, ken” you admitted with a shy smile.
“and i love to be your boyfriend, barbie” he said happily.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
it was so nice to write it, cause it’s just a fluff and ryan as a ken was incredible!
i hope you liked it!
#barbie#barbie movie#barbie x reader#ken x reader#ryan gosling#margot robbie#imagines#barbie 2023#fluff#request#requests are open#f!reader
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Not ridiculous at all | James Potter
Pairing: James Potter x fem!Reader
Word Count: 3.5k
Summary: You are part of the marauders, always having felt special when they called you part of the gang, but also consequently too embarrassed to admit to wanting to be more feminine, afraid that they would no longer deem you cool enough to hang out with you. You are hurt by James' comments and James might realise something when you're avoiding him.
Notes: Best friend!James, he's a bit stupid, Lily is a sweet friend, arguments, so maybe a little angsty, but not really, classic cliche tropes like friends to lovers, misunderstandings, pining (I literally just dreamt this so it's a bit patchy) and I know it's very stereotypical but that's why it's just fanfiction :)
(PS) I haven't written before, just wanted to get this out of my system. English is my third language, and this fic is not proofread because I'm way too lazy for that! Enjoy!
Part two Masterlist
__________________
You've grown up with James Potter and have been part of the marauders since the very beginning. You always took 'being one of the guys' or 'part of the gang' as a compliment, it left you feeling giddy as if you were included in some secret group that only you had the privilege of belonging to.
But sometimes you would sit in the girls dormitory and despite your friends laughing and chatting about, you would feel a wave of loneliness wash over you. They often did activities together and by now, 6th year at Hogwarts, they've managed to stop asking you to join them as you've always dutifully replied that it 'wasn't your thing'.
I mean, what would the guys think of you? It would be too embarrassing to admit to them, or anyone for that matter, that you would love to be dolled up for once. To go shopping with your friends, be included in movie nights, asked by Alice if she could test some makeup on you, or read and gossip about the new romance novels that were the new hype.
Especially now when you sat on your bed, part of the circle in which they were discussing plans to go dress shopping.
"You should absolutely join us!" Alice squealed in delight. You were shaken out of your train of thoughts with a huh and realized the conversation had taken a turn somewhere and now included you too. Marlene and Lily nodded fervently in agreement but you bashfully shook your head.
"Nah, can you imagine me in a dress?" You joked, but Dorcas caught the curious and somewhat longing look in your eyes at the mention of getting ready for the Yule ball.
"I think you would look great actually. And besides, you can treat yourself too sometime you know. You're not obligated to stick with the marauders all the time." The girls in the dorm once again all agreed and you smiled at their kindness.
"Since when are you interested in things like the Yule ball?"
You snapped your head up at James to see his questioning eyes and then quickly averted your own in a flustered manner as if one of your greatest secrets had just been uncovered. "I just think it seems nice, that's all, I'm not even going or anything", you defended. You felt slightly embarrassed by James' face which wore a weirded out expression.
"Well you're not really the type to go to such an event anyway right?", James remarked. You did your best to hide your frown at his immediate agreement. Was it that bad that you'd hoped he would say something along the lines of 'what are you talking about, go enjoy yourself at the party' or something like that?
"Besides I can't imagine you in a dress, all made up, it'd just look so ridiculous." James continued. Remus, ever the sweet and attentive boy glanced at you and noticed your slightly sacked shoulders in disappointment at his words.
"I mean you're just not that type of person, you know? Like completely opposite of Lily."
And with that your face felt like it burned from embarrassment. As if you didn't already know. That didn't mean you didn't want to be more like her sometimes.
Peter's eyes flicked with concern from James to you and back.
You felt hurt and forced yourself to stop tears welling up at his words, mustering up a grin, ready to agree with him but were interrupted by Sirius who had now also caught your change in mood.
"Prongs, you really have no tact at all, how are you expecting to even win Evans over with that?" He said in a playful manner as to not offend their whipped friend, but not fully succeeding.
"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?" James looked slightly offended and Remus jumped in the conversation.
"That's just not a nice thing to say. It's different if you call me an ugly toad, but not Y/N! If she wants to go to the Yule Ball all dolled up, she definitely should." He shot you a supportive smile which you returned.
Peter nodded in agreement. "I don't think you'd look ridiculous at all," he told you sincerely. You subtly scooted a little closer to him and Remus.
"But it's Y/N, it'd just look weird, cause she's just not a proper girl like that, no offense." James shot back and gave you a smile at the last two words.
You saw Remus opening his mouth to retort but quickly intervened. "He's right." You told them. You just wanted this conversation to be over with already. It was awkward and painful for you as it was.
James didn't seem to get the memo, however, and kept on going, drilling your confidence further into the ground.
"See, she agrees." He turned to you. "It's not like you're ugly or anything but it'd be ridiculous. Like I said, you're not the type to be all beautiful and dressed up, hair done and all. I mean you're cool, but not pretty like that." He was clearly not done yet and started talking about Lily and her beauty at which point you abruptly got up and left.
"What's gotten into her?" James remarked with a frown.
Sirius and Remus didn't even bother to answer and just stared at him in disbelief.
The girls comforted you as you cried. Marlene barged in with ice cream, stolen from the kitchen in one hand and 5 spoons in the other. "What a jerk." She commented and thrust a spoon in your hand before plopping down in front of you with the rest of your friends.
Lily sighed frustratedly. "See this is why I don't like him at all. He's so rude and arrogant, and he-"
"- is right." You answered dejectedly. "I'm your friend, but not the type to join you guys and belong to your circle."
"Well that's only because you hang around the boys all the time," Alice argued. She nudged you. "But you know what, now that James is being a git, you can hang out with us!"
Dorcas gasped dramatically. "We could do a girls night! Treat ourselves a little", she jumped up. "I'll get the face masks and nail polish!"
Lily let go of you too and told you to sit up. "Come on, let me do your hair," she smiled.
With Marlene feeding you ice cream, your nails being polished by Alice, hair done by Lily and Dorcas reading the latest romance novel out loud while you were all wearing a facemask, you couldn't help but feel all warm inside.
"I love you guys."
"Don't talk with your mouth full."
You laughed and pushed Marlene teasingly off the bed.
"Hey, watch it! I just finished your right hand." Alice complained.
James was a moron. He was kind hearted (to most), popular, captain of the Quidditch team, good looking but a moron nonetheless. So he was absolutely clueless to find you missing from the common room yesterday evening and even more clueless when you were missing from your usual spot next to him at the Gryffindor table in the great hall, because he could not for the life of him think of a reason why you would sit with Alice and Frank instead.
He frowned and felt uneasy at the fact that you hadn't even looked at him, let alone come for a hug with your smile and said 'good morning' like usual. He shook the thoughts away. You were obviously allowed to have your own friends as well and not obligated to spend all your time with him.
The door of the great hall behind him opened and Lily Evans walked in, which was why instead of walking up to you to say something, he habitually turned to Lily instead.
"You look beautiful this morning as usual. I could put in the effort to match you when we go out together?" He shot her a wink and a coy smile but faltered slightly when his attempts at flirting got even less of a reaction out of her than usual.
James turned to Sirius with a questioning look, as if to ask 'you noticed that too right?' but Sirius simply shrugged. When James looked back at Frank and Alice, you were gone, having left the moment you felt his stare.
James started to ponder. 'Were you avoiding him? Surely you wouldn't, right? You two were friends after all, childhood friends. Childhood best friends even, for Merlin's sake! If you were upset with him, you'd definitely let him know.'
A week passed with you, sitting on the opposite sides of the classroom, seemingly having picked partners long before class because how else would you team up with random students before James could even blink?
He had now fully accepted that you were avoiding him. And with that, he meant 'accepting the possibility of that occurrence'. He was by no means going to accept your strange new behavior without doing anything.
The last drop though, was when he heard the news from Peter that you'd already left for Hogsmeade with the girls.
He frowned. 'You were kind', he reasoned. If you were upset with him, then he'd have to apologize. Quickly. Because it's been far too long without his best friend and he realized he missed you. Especially seeing you hang out with others.
"What did I do?" He finally asked his remaining friends.
"Really Prongs?" Remus couldn't help but ask. His friend just gave him a look that said 'well go on then, what is it'.
"How about you think about what you said last week, you know, those rude comments about the Yule ball."
"Yeah, but I already apologized yesterday and told her that I didn't mean to offend her!" James flailed his arms around when he exclaimed it.
"But she's still only hanging out with anyone but me," he whined. "Peter studied with her, Pads got a 'good morning' this morning and you're still talking to eachother.
Remus gave him an unimpressed look at his whining but James was not done complaining yet.
"She keeps spending all her time with the girls while she doesn't even seem to be fully enjoying herself"
This was true. You dearly missed James, so despite your newfound hobbies, a look of sadness sometimes fell over your face, which hadn't escaped James' attention.
"And I just don't understand why she would-" He started but never finished, something dawning on him. "Oh of course! Merlin, I'm so stupid!" He shouted out in epiphany.
"Your words not mine," Sirius quickly took the opportunity.
"Oh bugger off Pads", James laughed and pushed Sirius' arm. And with that, he took off to find you.
Sirius and Remus watched him leave and sighed at the same time. "Do you really think he got it?"
"I bloody hope so, Moony."
"But it's James."
"Yeah, but I mean it's not my fight but even I realize that she's sad that James made fun of the idea of her being more girly when she secretly wants to be. Now she's trying out what she likes, without having to stay within the role of 'one of the guys'. I mean, it's pretty straightforward. I guess a genuine apology and show of support is the solution."
"But it's James."
"Yep, you're right."
Though he hadn't been able to find you, he'd waited patiently for your return in the common room. Staring at the ceiling from his laid back position on the couch.
"Oh there you are, Y/N," He rushed to sit up to face you when you entered the room. If you were surprised by his presence, you didn't show it.
"We need to talk, I wanted to apologize." He breathed out, relieved at himself for having figured it out. "Also, I've missed you so much."
You felt a weight fall off your shoulders. You didn't want to be upset with him and felt incredibly relieved to hear him say that.
"I'm sorry for the things I said. I didn't mean for you to get offended or anything," James began.
"Yeah, you already said that." You frowned. "And I remember I told you that that was not a proper apology."
"I know, I know. It was shitty of me so I wanted to apologize. Properly you know? I'm really really sorry. I was a terrible friend and shouldn't have said the things I said. Please forgive me?" He proceeded to give you Bambi eyes in an attempt to convince you. It unsurprisingly worked.
You softly smiled up at him. "Okay". You barely got the word out before he pulled you into a bone-crushing hug.
"Great," he said, cutting through the comfortable silence that you two had been hugging in.
"Now you don't have to avoid me anymore, and you can stop sitting with the girls to prove your point, and join us again instead." He triumphantly continued.
What now?
You blanked. "I'm sorry?" You managed to ask.
"I get that I hurt you by saying your weren't a proper girl, but you don't have to pretend to prove your point by trying to be one." James stated, proud of himself that he figured it out.
"Because I can see that you don't like it, like your face gets all gloomy which is understandable because it isn't really your circle of people."
You stared at him, an incredulous look on your face.
"Fuck you James." You said, your voice coming out softer than you'd hoped. Tears were welling up again, but you couldn't help yourself.
"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I do want that to be my circle of people? That I don't just want to be one of the guys all the time? Is it that crazy to think that I'm still a girl with feelings? That I want to feel pretty too? That I don't like being told by my supposed best friend that I'm basically ugly? That I hate to be compared to other girls like that?"
You were ranting and James had taken a step back, surprised by your outburst.
"No, that's not what I-", James tried to salvage the situation but you weren't having it.
"You've told me that stuff for as long as I can remember and I never told you otherwise because I was scared that you'd no longer want to hang out with me for not being a 'chill friend'. But you know what, I no longer want you to."
At this point, you angrily wiped your eyes to get rid of tears that were threatening to spill. "So fuck you". With that, you brushed past him, escaping upstairs to your room.
James Fleamont Potter felt absolutely miserable.
If anyone told James that you'd ever be more on his mind than Lily, he would call them ridiculous. But here he was, another week had passed and he was staring at your back as you were leaving with your friends for Hogsmeade again.
You weren't wearing your school uniform and robes anymore and James was surprised to see you wearing one of what he knew to be Lily's dresses.
'It suited you more than it suited Lily.' The unwarranted thought flashed through his mind and he shook his head with a scoff to himself. What was going on?
James also noticed that your hair was brushed and shining with a butterfly clip holding your hair in a bun. He wondered when you decided to change your hairstyle because he found that it framed your face perfectly.
'Not ridiculous at all,' he understood.
You looked absolutely perfect.
You turned your face a little and James could feel his head reeling. Have you always been this glowing? Was he just simply missing you? He didn't even realize that he hadn't spared Lily a glance- until Sirius mentioned her while they were having a drink - and a strange feeling washed over him at the thought.
You were running from Filch.
'Fuck I shouldn't have studied after hours, curfew was probably hours ago," you cursed to yourself and took a sharp right turn. You were trying to reach the secret passage right behind the big statue on the fourth floor when you saw the hallway light up because of Filches torch.
Forcing your legs to move faster, you were suddenly grabbed by the wrist. A hand was clasped over your mouth and you felt a heavy cloth fall over you.
You recognised the person pressed to your back immediately and tried not to melt in his embrace as Filch walked straight past the two of you, covered in the invisibility cloak.
You could feel his breath against your temple. His hand had dropped from your mouth, instead draping across your stomach now to rest on your side. The other held out in front of you to create space under the cloak. You shifted a little and finally turned your head and lifted it to look at him and thank him but you were unable to say anything for a moment.
You simply admired him.
The proximity of the two of you in that intimate embrace had something fluttering in your stomach and you harshly jerked away in denial when your feelings hit you.
Oh no.
Now, all suddenly? What changed? Does it really take one random moment to flip your world upside down?
You rushed to push the invisibility cloak out of your way and then left without sparing James another glance.
James couldn't force his legs to move to run after you, still reeling from about the exact same epiphany that you'd just run away from. Your gaze, his fast beating heart and the urge he had felt to lean down for a kiss had confirmed his conflicted feelings of the past few days since he'd seen you leave for Hogsmeade.
The following morning, you'd had the chance to properly process the happenings of last night.
Your conclusion was that you felt guilty that you hadn't even expressed your gratitude. It was rude, you figured. Even if you were overwhelmed by the sudden wave of realization that came crashing down on you, it was rude.
So you pushed your confused feelings aside and marched up to him when you found him in the great hall.
"Thanks, I owe you." You awkwardly said, stopping at his spot at the Gryffindor table. All while absolutely not having forgotten about the fact that the last time you had said something to him, you'd flipped him off and told him to go fuck himself.
James was absolutely beaming. "Yeah you do, but no worries, I'll cash it in right away." This was his chance. He would make up for his behavior and act on his feelings right now.
"How about a date?"
There was a long silence. Your heart plummeted to the ground. Right. James. Lily. Lily and James.
"What am I a magician?" You finally managed to sarcastically retort. "I'm a convincing person but not a miracle worker." You pulled your hand through your hair as you looked around the great hall to see if you could spot Lily.
"Alright, I'll see what I can do." You forced a smile.
James, who had been mostly confused at your words, disregarded it completely in delight at your acceptance to go out with him, even if it seemed somewhat reluctant. Not that it would matter because he was going to prove what an amazing boyfriend he could be. If you'd accept him, of course.
He was grinning from ear to ear, which you mistook as excitement at the prospect of a potential date with Lily. So when you abruptly turned on your heels and marched over to Lily, James watched you confusedly.
And when he heard you try to talk Lily into going out with him, he wanted to crawl in a ditch and die. He stood there, frozen and recounting how you could've interpreted that wrongly.
You returned to him after a while with an apologetic smile. "Yeah sorry Prongs, she-"
"You", he blurted out.
You raised your eyebrows. "Me?" You repeated back.
"The date, I meant you. A-and me of course. Us, like you and me on a date. Together. I thought maybe Hogsmeade?" He managed to force the words out nervously.
There was a long silence and James' shoulders slumped a little. Even more when you finally answered.
"Uh, no?" You said in a questioning manner. James officially wanted to die now.
"You're sweet James, and I don't think you do it on purpose but you're not interested in me like that." You began, trying to convince not only James, but yourself as well.
James opened his mouth to argue but you quickly interrupted him before he could properly do so.
"James, you really don't. And you asking me out on a date when you've quite literally been drooling over Lily just last week as you have been doing for the past 5 years, that's not very nice to me." You frowned.
"Oh." He whispered. He was once again at a lack of words for a moment. Terrible new habit, he thought. This was not how he thought it would go.
"I'd still gladly go with you to Hogsmeade though?" You offered. "Just you know, not as an easy second choice date while you are obviously head over heels with her."
'I'm not', he wanted to tell you, but it was obvious that you wouldn't believe him. "Yeah okay," he weakly smiled. "Just the two of us though."
You nodded and stepped forward, wrapped your arms around him and he leaned into you, returning the hug.
With his face pressed in your hair, eyes closed, he decided that this situation wasn't too bad. He's fought for Lily's affection for years. He'd fight harder for yours.
Part two
#james potter x fem!reader#james potter x reader#james potter imagine#marauders era#marauders#james potter x you#james potter x y/n#james potter fluff#james potter angst#james potter fic
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hihiiii can i ask for hc’s and maybe a small drabble for lucifer, lute, adam, and charlie with a (fem) reader who tends to unintentionally fluster them ?
— Lucifer, Lute, Adam, Charlie / Fem!Reader; Headcanons
*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･ HEADCANONS ･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*
— Lucifer;
Intentional or not, he always wonders how you can be so smooth with your words / actions
He tries to reply with the same tone, but he always stumbles with his words
“You’re so cute when you stutter—” “STOP IT.”
Whenever you lightly tease him, he melts from both embarrassment and love
You chuckled softly upon seeing his already blushing face. “Aw, come on, don’t go shy on me already,” you teased, getting pleasantly surprised when you see the way his face reddens at your words. You truly don’t understand how your choice of words could affect him so much — but you weren’t really complaining.
You always laugh it off, but you definitely like the way he just begins to flush over your words
There are times that you forget that he's Lucifer, though. He'll catch you off guard yourself, saying something surprisingly smooth with that enticing voice of his, and he'll eat up every detail of your own flustered face
"Oh so this is how it feels to fluster, huh?"
Essentially, you both match each other's energy <3
— Lute;
my guilty pleasure fr
She'd totally try to cover her blush with frustration
At first, you used to think she hated being around you. Her face always turned red and judging by her scowl, you assumed it was because she was angry
The only reason you found out otherwise was because of Adam, who was brutally teasing Lute
"HAH, no way, your face is so red!" You were going down a hall when you heard Adam's taunting voice ring out. Before you could tune them out, another voice spoke up, "You heard her, who the hell says that so casually?" Oh, Lute was with him too. You paused for a moment, letting Adam reply. "Ooooh Lute, you look so cute with your hair pulled back!" he spoke in a mocking high-pitched tone, laughing right after when he heard Lute bark out, "Unlike you, she didn't sound annoying!"
... Wasn't that the compliment you told Lute earlier that day?
After that, you couldn't help but to stop by a bit more often during training, simply to converse a bit more
While you didn't understand how you can cause her to have that reaction, it didn't stop you from pushing forward
I mean, it just means she's not mad at you. And she also hasn't said anything about you needing to stop... you're sure it's fine!
It wasn't until one day she just yells "Why do you feel the need to torment me?!"
"I'm sorry... I just think you look so pretty when you blush."
She "reluctantly" asks you out on a date after that
— Adam;
guilty pleasure 2.0
Whenever you first catch him off guard, he goes silent for like,, a good minute
It takes a moment to register that his heart skipped a beat and his face began to burn from the blood that was rushing to his cheeks
After hanging out with you, he has to take a moment to sort of realize that someone genuinely makes him flustered and not the other way around
Initially, he's like "well no duh I'm blushing a bit, she's hot as fuck" but that later turns into him being like "she said my hair looks nice today, does that mean anything?? my face is burning, does she notice all of that?? is all of this on purpose??"
He'll call you (jokingly) an attention whore, which you're confused about and leaves him to explain...
Adam chuckled dryly, "You know... because you're, like, constantly flirting with me. That makes you an attention whore." He tried to keep his cool, he really did. But when all you could do was muster up an awkward smile and head tilt of confusion, he realized you genuinely didn't mean to actually fluster him. Fuck. "Don't take it to heart, sugar tits. I'm just joking!" he laughed it off.
After that "incident" he actually tries to match your energy
If you make him blush, he makes it his mission to see you at least giggle from his flirting
I think it's safe to say Adam sort of sucks at flirting because most of his "flirtatiousness" it just lewd comments and stuff
So it takes a while to actually make you blush from his words and not because he said something embarrassingly lewd
You still appreciate his efforts of course :)
— Charlie;
You are, by far, her biggest distraction
She'll be in the middle of trying to come up with lesson plans when you come up to her and say something like "but Charlie, I miss your kisses..."
Immediately folds for you
I'm positive she openly simps for you, no other way around it
"Isn't she just the cutest? She said I look so adorable with a bow tie! She's so considerate and so..." Charlie swooned as her words drifted off into a ran, face already flushed. Angel raised a brow, "Isn't it, like, the third time she makes you go red? You don't think you're sick or somethin'?" "And it's only the morning," Husk groaned behind the two.
The hotel residents are sick of it /hj
Something that they do appreciate it whenever you're able to calm Charlie down from going overboard. Whether it's with the lesson of the day or her going into a near breakdown over how the hotel isn't going how it's supposed to
While, yes, your words definitely have her giggling and kicking her feet, she mainly goes wild over your actions
The way you'll take her hands into yours, looking her in the eyes as you gently tell her "it'll all work out, just be patient."
She just can't imagine a world where you're not by her side, constantly making her heart flutter
She doesn't typically try to match your flirting, especially because she knows that you don't exactly mean to be flirty
But that doesn't stop her from complimenting you and your words/actions
"You really make my day with your words!"
#hazbin hotel lucifer#lucifer hazbin hotel#lucifer morningstar#lucifer x reader#lucifer x you#lucifer x y/n#lucifer headcanons#hazbin hotel lute#lute hazbin hotel#lute headcanons#lute#lute x reader#lute x you#hazbin hotel adam#adam hazbin hotel#adam headcanons#adam x reader#adam x you#hazbin hotel charlie#charlie hazbin hotel#charlie morningstar hazbin hotel#charlie morningstar#charlie x reader#charlie x you#charlie headcanons
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How’s your head? H.S
She never thought she’d be into something like this.
Something which reduced her to such a filthy, whiney mess.
That too from her best friend.
Or,
Harry is Y/N’s best friend, and he just wants the best for her.
Content warning: mature content.
Word count: 3.8K
When Y/N told Harry she wanted to hang out with him Friday afternoon, she didn’t quite think it would end up like this.
The original plan was to essentially do nothing all night. After a long, tiring week at work, nothing satisfied Y/N more than lazing around on her couch and snacking on all the chocolate sitting in her pantry she had been fantasising about having while at her desk. It was always nice to have someone do these things with you, though, where both parties could lie in silence, munch on snacks and glue their eyes to the television to forget everything that happened in the past workdays.
Y/N quickly realised Harry was the perfect person for this. He didn’t have much going on for him either so there was no reason why he would turn down a night of gorging Y/N’s pantry and flopping over her hunched body on the sofa so they could watch whatever show she was recently obsessing over.
And that was how the night started.
Harry came over at about 7, with a pizza for takeaway and a large soda, and claimed the furthest right corner of the couch, snuggled up with Y/N’s cat Lola. While Lola took her time sniffing Harry’s fingers and tentatively licking his knuckles, Y/N warmed up some popcorn and ruffled Harry’s hair as she walked past him to her spot on the other end of the sofa. “Heeeeeey,” he began, a furrow in his brows, “you can’t just do that. I put a lot of work into making it look this good.” Y/N rolled her eyes, “if it looks like that after all the work I’m afraid you’re not doing enough, Harry.” He didn’t say anything, only scoffed and shoved her legs slightly from where she had swung them on his lap, “you need to pull that stick out of your ass. Let off some steam or something.”
“Right and do you want to volunteer as my punching bag?” She retorted. She wasn’t really trying to be mean, a teasing grin on her lips when he feigned offence once more, “that’s not what I meant. There are other ways to release tension, you know,” he said.
“Harry, if you want me to drop-kick you, just say i—“
“What I want is for you to go out and get a good dicking so you can stop being such a menace to me.”
“I’m not being a menace, this is just how I am. I thought you’d know that by now.” Y/N’s eyes widen, looking at him like she can’t believe he hadn’t realised her quip-y and teasing comments have been entirely satire. “Menace or not, it doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been on edge lately and could go for an orgasm not brought to you by your vibrator.”
“Harry!”
”What? I’m just saying,” he said through a smirk. Y/N’s eyes narrow at his dishevelled sight, his hair just touching his collarbones and his black sweater swallowing him whole. “My orgasms are perfectly fine, thank you. And my vibrator does a very good job at helping me ‘let off steam’.”
He sighs, almost mockingly. “When’s the last time you got laid?”
“Why would I tell you?”
”Because I’m your friend. I promise I’m just trying to help,” he says sincerely. The dim lighting of the living room made his eyes sparkle and Y/N avoided eye contact by fiddling with her fingers.
God, there was just something about the fucker that made a person want to spill every secret before his jade gaze. “I dunno. Maybe five, six months?”
“Jesus Christ Y/N, what the fuck? Weren’t you seeing Daniel like 3 weeks ago?” His voice goes up a few octaves, looking at her all bewildered. “It’s Danny,” she corrected him, “and I stopped texting him a while back. He was a bore in real life and quite frankly, a bore in bed.” Danny was one of Y/N’s coworkers' brothers who she had tried setting her up with, and Y/N did have some fun with him at first. It was always nice having someone to flirt with back and forth and get compliments from every now and then but he just never scratched that itch for Y/N. She ended up ghosting him 2 dates in and she knows that's a dick move, but really a second more of listening to him go on and on about his mum and how much his new PC game cost would make Y/N want to gauge out her own eyeballs with a dinner fork.
“Did he ever get you off?” Harry asked. Y/N was incredibly appalled, not appreciating his prying hands all over her sex life. Or lack thereof. “No and that’s none of your business anyway, jeez.”
“There you go again, snapping at me. You know if you’ll ask me nicely I’ll stop.” He sat up against the arm rest, fingers grazing her bare leg from when he pulled it back on his lap. Y/N knew she could ask him to stop asking her all these questions and he would, but was it really a conversation with her if she wasn’t being at least a little bit hard to read?
Besides, maybe it would do her some good talking about it and whatever advice he had might actually help her out. Harry seemed to be more than well-equipped when it came to charming the heck out of someone and working his way into their pants. “Sorry,” she sighed, rubbing her eye, “no, he didn’t get me off. We never actually had sex, I just gave him a blowie once and he tried to go down on me.”
Harry smiled softly knowing he got her to crack and squeezed her calf, “tried?” He knew he was treading on dangerous waters here, wedging his fingers between Y/N’s brain and asking her to recall her time with Danny.
“Yes, tried. It was fucking awful.”
She didn’t meet his eyes, busying herself with the strings on her hoodie, “and he definitely came in your mouth?” Y/N’s cheeks went pink, and she quickly pulled her legs away from him, “Harry!” Her voice was high pitched and defensive, and while her mind told her that maybe confiding all this in Harry isn’t the smartest thing, her heart wanted to see where an odd conversation like this could lead.
“I’m just asking!”
She hesitated, narrowing her eyes. “Yeah.”
“Well fuck, Y/N, sorry to say it but you were seeing an absolute douche.” Harry makes this diagnosis like Y/N didn’t already know, his fingers reaching for her legs again, tugging them onto his thighs with a strength that made her tummy flip. He ran a hand through his unruly hair. “I know. It was fun but I didn’t want anything more with him.”
“Good. But you still need a good fuck. One where you actually get to come and don’t come back home all high and dry.”
Y/N gasps, trying to get off him again but Harry holds her down, laughing at her bright red embarrassed face, “you’re such a dick I hate you.”
His dimples dug deep into the soft of his cheeks, and he pulled her legs so she was sitting much closer to him. Her ass touched the edge of his thighs and she could feel the warmth radiating off of him, making her skin even hotter. Y/N remained frowning, shoving his chest when he wouldn’t stop giggling, “stop laughing, Harry!” For obvious reasons that doesn’t work and the little genuine crink in her eyebrows had him almost cooing and smiling wide at the same time. When she didn’t let up the frown and tried to move back to her spot, Harry only grabbed her hips and pulled her back, close enough that her ass was now on top of his thighs, “okay, okay I’m sorry. You’ve got a really funny angry face.”
Y/N was near seething at this point, gearing up for an attack, “I’ll show you an angry face,” she tried lunging for his hair again but very quickly realised she failed to take into consideration her position when he instantly caught her wrists in between his long fingers, holding them tight but not enough to hurt her, “okay, John Cena let’s take a breather.”
God, was he able to make her skin absolutely crawl at times. He was still holding her wrists when he brought them down, watching her blazingly. She didn’t realise how far she had shuffled into his lap and how close his face was to hers until now. Until she could smell the strawberry mints he was sucking on on his breath.
She made a half-hearted attempt to smack his chest, but his hold only tightened around her, suddenly dragging her even closer to him over the soft fabric of his sweats. Y/N held her breath. He was too close to her, his nose daring to touch hers. She’d never been in such a vulnerable position with him and she might possibly just faint if he didn’t stop staring at her mouth and then her eyes, flicking his gaze between the two like he couldn’t decide where to settle.
She moved her head back, trying to create some space between the pair, “what are you doing Harry.” The sound she makes is an odd one— one that she doesn’t make often and it’s desperate and needy, akin to a weepy whine. His fingers finally loosened enough for her to break free and she quickly moved her face away from his where it seems like it was magnetically pulling her closer and closer.
Harry didn’t say anything for a while and Y/N found herself frozen in her spot, still right on his lap. “What’s going on here, hmm?” He said, glancing down.
Y/N followed his gaze, confused at first and it took her a moment to realise what he was insinuating. His fingers grazed her hips. “What’s got you all squirmy on my lap?”
He was still staring right into her eyes, making her go crazy with the stolen glances at her lips with every passing second. Meanwhile Y/N’s chest heaved and she unintentionally shuffles again, “fuck, Y/N.” Harry’s voice was deep and groan-y, vibrating through her body when his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “I’m not squirmy, Harry shut up.” She was lying right to his face and her poor attempt at covering her actions made him laugh again. The sound was teasing, nothing like the light-hearted giggles spilling from his lips when he found her angry face amusing.
“You’re a terrible liar, Y/N.” His fingers fell to her upper thighs, which he gripped harshly. Only then when she couldn’t move did Y/N realise she really was practically rubbing herself against him, milking even the slightest pressure against her heat from his warm, pliant lap. Her face pinkened again, embarrassment coursing through her veins and making her want to dig a hole and hide in it forever. She couldn’t believe what she had just been caught doing.
Y/N expected him to fully push her off his lap, disgusted by her basically humping his leg, but he didn’t.
Instead, he dug his fingers into her skin and slowly helped her move back and forth, pushing her down just slightly to give her the friction she was searching for. Y/N’s mouth dropped open in another little whine.
“Will you let me, then?” His eyes searched hers, gaze sincere, though Y/N didn’t know what he was implying, only half listening to him. She was clearly preoccupied with the delicious pressure pressing right up against her clothed clit.
“What?”
Harry laughed, a large, ringed hand slipping over her ass to squeeze lightly. “I said, will you let me make you feel good? Help you relax? Have you gone dumb already, baby?” Y/N couldn’t really do much other than nod frantically, afraid he might pull away if she didn’t say yes. The pet name melts her even further, paired with the way he was holding her like he was going to swallow her whole made her insides slosh.
She preens under his gaze, now holding the front of his sweater tightly between her fingers. “Yes,” Y/N breathed, “yes please.”
Harry wondered for a second if she was agreeing to being cockdumb or agreeing to him touching her but nonetheless he took it as his queue to push her off his lap and position her the way he wanted.
“I—what, I thought you we—“ Y/N protests, neediness evident in her voice and her hands which chased after his warmth, like she was afraid he was going to leave her be in this desperate state. Harry only pressed on her shoulder until she laid back on her back, hands coming to part her legs so he could fit between them, “shh.” A wet kiss was pressed to her cheek, like comforting a rabid animal, which Y/N was feeling exactly like as she stared at Harry’s frame cowering hers.
His curls hung past his ears and tickled her face when he slotted his hips between her legs so she could continue grinding down on him, “who knew you were such a needy little thing?” Y/N sighed in response. Another suckling kiss was pressed to her jaw, “do you need me to make you feel good, baby? Hmm? Need me to make it better?”
The way he was talking to her made her feral.
She had trouble believing this was the same Harry who irritated her to no end and pushed all her buttons to rile her up. Except this time he was pushing other kinds of buttons, moving his body around hers so perfectly Y/N wondered if this was like second nature to him.
“Yes. Please don’t tease me.” She commanded him and Harry chuckled at her desperation, lips sponging these warm, slow, gooey kisses down her neck and across her collarbone. When she went to sift her fingers through his curly hair, he pulled back to look at her. “You’re so bossy,” he accuses, pulling her thighs further up his hips, “it’s okay though. I’ll fuck the attitude right of you.” He grinded down against her, one strong roll of his bulge against her heat. “Are we going to have sex, Harry?”
“No.” He grinned.
“Why?” Y/N’s eyes crinkled in pain like he just told her her cat died and her lip jutted out in a pout which Harry quickly tucked away with his thumb. “Because,” he started, using that same hand to wrap around her throat, “we need to talk about that before we do anything. Don’t want to lose my best friend, do I?”
His rejection almost made Y/N cry and she would have had Harry not tightened his hand around her jugular. The cold press of his rings sent shivers down Y/N’s spine. “Why would you say anything then?” She asked, craning her neck to allow him more room to cover with his palm.
“I said I won’t have sex with you. Didn’t say I wouldn’t make you feel good.”
With that, he took the hand that made a home around her throat and patted her cheek, hard enough that the feeling went straight down to her tummy but soft enough that it didn’t hurt her like someone might think it would. He crawled further down her body, shoving her hoodie up with his hands and exposing her stomach to the cold air of the room. Y/N thinks he was trying to keep up some boundaries, bunching the shirt just below her tits like protecting some kind of modesty and pressing ticklish kisses across her skin and down her belly button. Her body tingled with anticipation, breath bated and eyes glazed as she watched him.
She felt him nuzzle into her tummy and inhale loudly, “you smell so fucking good.” Y/N giggled, taking pride in her extensive shower routine and incessant rubbing of various lotions into her skin, “thank you.”
When his mouth reached the waistband of her tiny shorts he murmured a small, “can I take these off?” To which Y/N hummed in agreement. She couldn’t agree with anything more. If Harry walked up and out of this room right now, Y/N was certain she would die.
Once they’re off, Y/N realised she was completely at his mercy. Her underwear is the only thing protecting her modesty, and with how wet she’s feeling, she doubts there’s anything left to the imagination down there, “would you look at that. You’ve soaked right through.” His fingers toyed with the edge of her wet gusset.
Another embarrassingly desperate sound left her throat and she pushed her hips in the air in search of some friction. Harry delivered a harsh slap to her thigh, “don’t move.”
His stern voice did unimaginable things for her but she complied and tried to stay as still as she could, which seemed like a task for the impossible with the teasing touches Harry delivered to her skin.
She never thought she’d be into something like this.
Something which reduces her to such a filthy, whiney mess.
That too from her best friend.
Harry doesn’t do anything for a while, just admiring how her pussy looked soaked through her panties, playing around with the lace lining of the fabric. He grabbed the gusset and pulled it tight against her so her folds swallow the cotton, “fuck. A little manhandling and this is what happens?” He more so makes a statement rather than asking her, punctuating his words by leaning down to lick a wide, sloppy strip across the cloth. It makes Y/N squeal and attempt to shut her thighs but Harry makes sure to hold her down, biceps bulging.
He pulled back to drop his fingers firmly against her clit, just keeping them there pressed tightly, feeling her heartbeat against the tips. “I thought I told you not to move.”
“Yes, I’m sorry please, please don’t stop.”
He went back to nosing at her covered clit, not making any attempt to wrap his lips around it. At this point Y/N was itching in anticipation, every ounce of her working not to rut her hips in his face and ride his tongue like she wanted to. When he finally touches her again, it's where the wetness pooled, soft suckling kisses over the fabric which made Y/N’s heart and pussy flutter.
She was incredibly frustrated, wanting nothing more than to rip her underwear off and shove his face into her but she held back, not sure if Harry would appreciate that after he made it clear time and time again how he preferred her to remain immobile while he played with her. Instead she waited until he was through with kissing every inch of her and when he finally peeled off her panties, she could practically come just from the prospect of having his mouth on her.
He doesn’t give her a second to think though, because his mouth is unrelenting. Teasing the tip of her button with his tongue before circling his lips around it and suckling in sweet, soft pulses. The sensation has her panting and gasping, squeezing his head between her thighs while one of his arms swung across her hips to keep her down and the other wiggled between the two to push her lips apart in a V shape. With her clit now exposed to the cool air, Harry zeroed in on the nerve and worked magic with his tongue, flicking it up, down, left, right and circling the button with such fevor Y/N could burst.
What electrified the experience was the sounds in the room, which were just sinful.
Her pussy squelched with each suckle Harry gave, making Y/N moan and pull Harry’s curls which in turn had him groaning lowly against her. It was an endless cycle of pornographic music.
When he pulls away from her clit, the pulsing it does is almost amusing, like it was personally begging for Harry’s attention. Instead he kissed down the length of her slit and took his time playing around with her folds, slicking her hole and letting his spit drip down to her ass.
It was so perfect and messy.
Before she knew it, Y/N’s thighs were shaking and Harry’s tongue was back to abuse her poor button. A couple more flicks and a harsh kiss pushed Y/N over the edge, her orgasm washing over her and nearly blinding her. It’s euphoric and the most intense she’s ever felt, no vibrator of hers or cock she’s ever had compared to what she was feeling and even then Harry didn’t let up on her pussy. He continued his assault, now both of his arms locking around her hips to tone down her thrashing. Only when she pushed his forehead away did he finally depart with a final lick across her slit and smiled at her fucked-out state.
He wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb and brought it to his lips, sitting up between her legs which she clinked shut. A second passes.
“Are you okay?” Y/N’s eyes were shut, an arm thrown across her forehead. “I think so.”
Harry giggled, leaning over her to remove her arm, “how’s it feel?”
“S’good. It was really nice. Thanks.” She was slightly dazed, too far gone to really understand what was going on. Her limbs felt like jell-o and she let Harry kiss her cheek again before lending her a hand to help her sit up. “I’m glad. Come on now. We need to clean you up.”
She doesn't know how she stood up from that godforsaken couch and how she made it to the bathroom, Lola returning from her retreat to her bedroom to wind around her ankles. Harry bent down to pet between her ears, “hello babydoll. Did you miss me?” He cooed.
She looked down at the pair and Harry easily sensed her wary gaze. A dashing smile was sent her way. “Do you need me to get you some underwear? Or are you afraid I’ll stumble across your array of sex toys?”
Y/N rolled her eyes. He was still the Harry she knew before he gave her the best head she ever received.
“You’re such a dick.”
“A dick that gave you the best orgasm of your life.” She couldn’t even argue with him on that. Instead, she flipped him off and disappeared into her room. Once she was all changed and wearing a fresh pair of undies and shorts, she walked out to see Harry passed out on the couch with Lola snuggled into his throat. It was then when her head finally returned to the ground and she realised the gravity of the situation.
The looming prospect of a long, painful chat in the morning hung over Y/N like a dark cloud, filling her with a gnawing sense of dread she suddenly couldn’t seem to shake.
Divider by @firefly-graphics
Hiiiii i hope you like this one, first time posting in a long time so feeling a little nervous omg … leave feedback if you have any!!! Mwuahh
#harry styles#one direction#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles blurb#harry styles imagine#harry styles smut#harry styles fluff#harry styles angst#one direction fanfiction#writing#harry styles one shot#harry styles writing#harry styles Drabble#Harry styles au#bloobharry
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𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘧𝘶𝘭 || joel miller x reader
𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 || joel wasn't looking for a follower, or a protégé, or an employee— whatever you're supposed to be— when he saved some dumbass kid from a couple runners. but he ended up with you anyways, and you swore to always be faithful to him... in every way.
𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 || 9.2k
𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 || smut (18+ only; oral f receiving, unprotected sex, very slight dacryphilia kinda?, a touch of degradation and dumbification in there, and virginity loss with some pain and one mention of blood), heavy age gap (not specified but the reader is absolutely an adult), insecure crybaby reader, unrequited love/pining, reader wants to fuck joel so bad it makes her look stupid (and we love that for her cause same), angst, tess getting kinda screwed over but only because it's absolutely necessary for the plot, emotionally repressed joel, mention of reader's parents being deceased (implied to be infected)
this fic does not contain spoilers for anything but minor details from episode one!
They were doing that thing again— where they talked in front of you, as if you weren’t there.
“So we make the run tonight,” Tess decided, standing while Joel sat on the worn-out sofa with his hands clasped and his elbows resting on his knees. “We should be back by four, that’s when the FEDRA boys have their shift change, so we can avoid too much risk of getting caught.”
“What should I do?” you piped up. They both looked at you with that oh yeah, she’s here glare and Tess sighed; she didn’t try very hard to hide her frustration with you, but at the same time, she was actually nice to you when she was in a good mood (which was rare). Joel was less mean but also less nice— he stayed steady in his neutral-to-mildly-irritated state, and you figured if he wanted you to fuck off, he would’ve said so (probably in those exact words, too).
At the same time, they both instructed you flatly: “Keep watch.”
You sighed, shoulders sinking. “Again? Can’t I at least—?”
“You’re safer here,” Joel insisted.
“Yeah, and your gun is safer in the box under the bed, but it’s not gonna do shit to protect you if you never take it out,” you countered.
Tess scoffed. “And what are you gonna do to protect us?”
“I wasn’t,” you admitted. “You know I’m a great shot, but I wasn’t gonna try to shoot anybody. I’m quieter than both of you. I can get in and out better— and nobody’s looking for me. Everybody knows you’re smuggling—”
“Not everybody,” Joel defended himself in a mumble.
“ — so if I do get caught, I can probably get out of a search,” you bargained.
“And what are you gonna do to get out of a search?” Tess smirked. “Bat your eyelashes?”
That did sting, but you rolled your eyes and hoped you had effectively looked like it didn’t affect you at all. “If implying that I’m pretty enough to get out of a search is supposed to be an insult, I can’t wait to hear one of your compliments, Tess,” you replied— but your voice was soft and almost shaky, not as confident as the comeback merited. That summarized you pretty well: you had the will to be tough, but when it was time to really go for it, your body failed you and your hands got shaky and your eyes watered. Almost anything could make you cry, Tess had already made fun of you for it; Joel just seemed to get really uncomfortable when you started crying, but you always did your best to hide it from him. It just didn’t usually work.
Your whole face probably lit up when you caught Joel’s suppressed smile— did he think your joke was funny? He hadn’t been smiling when Tess made fun of you, so it had to be what you said— or maybe he was thinking of something he would say if he cared enough to say it, some comment about how you could do more than that to get out of being searched. He didn’t seem the type to make comments like that, but he was well aware what guards might let (or make) a girl do to avoid punishment.
“Whatever,” Tess decided, shaking her head, “you’re not coming with us, that’s the point.”
“Joel gets a say, too!” you blurted out. “You can’t just pick for him that I’m not coming, he has to—”
“You’ll stay here,” he interrupted. So much for getting Joel to let you go— you thought maybe he would side with you, for once. Deflating, you nodded, and they stopped paying attention to you at the same time that you stopped paying attention to them.
Your mind wandered in times like this, when they were talking and it was clear that it didn’t concern you; Tess said once that you had an ‘overactive imagination’, but she hadn’t said it in a really mean way (like she said most things). You didn’t want Joel to think that you were always daydreaming, but you couldn’t help it sometimes— you really just hoped that he didn’t know he was the subject of so many of your thoughts.
Truth was, he’d caught your eye long before he even knew you existed. You’d seen him around, doing all those odd jobs he did to make ends meet, and thought he was… well, handsome, but not just that. Mysterious. Intimidating, though he didn’t exactly intimidate you— okay, he did, but not like he did everybody else. He intimidated others because they were afraid he would hurt them; he intimidated you because you kind of wanted him to hurt you. Not, you know, bad, just… maybe a hand around the neck or pinning you to a wall or something?
It wasn’t in spite of your inexperience that you had thoughts like that— it was because of it; you had been lonely for a long, long time, and maybe it was just fantasy, but you always wanted someone like Joel. You wanted someone to take care of you, protect you. You were just guessing that he was capable of that, but he proved it when you met for the first time.
It wasn’t exactly a meet-cute, or even just a pleasant way to meet; you were short on rations, because you’d given most of yours away to Mrs. Davis who was too old and weak now to earn any extra for herself, and someone offered to pay you ten if you snuck something they could sell out of the old mall in the QZ… well, that went about as poorly as anyone would’ve expected.
You asked Joel what he was doing there, after he’d saved you from the runners, but he refused to tell you. Either way, it was the best luck you ever had that he showed up and fought them off. For a moment, he’d held you close to him as he pulled you away from the Infected; you wished, later, that you hadn’t been too terrified to appreciate that.
Ever since, you’d sworn yourself to him— in more ways than one, but he only knew about the main one: you wanted to assist him however you could, figuring after he saved your life that you should dedicate it to his service. Well, Joel had never been interested in your assistance, or anything else about you. It was actually Tess' idea to let you stay: "if she wants to help, let her do it for free," she whispered to Joel, and he shrugged, and he did. That was how it ended up like this: you were the squeaky, wobbly third wheel of Joel and Tess’ operation, more often than not doing the least important work if not filling your time with essentially goose-chase tasks they invented to keep you occupied. Keep watch and listen to the radio were your biggest assignments; just wait here was another common one, when they were too lazy to call it one of the other two.
Tess left a little while later, and Joel laid down on the sofa. You broke away from your thoughts and tried to make yourself useful— you got up to rinse the dishes, humming a random tune to yourself as you worked. You were already back inside your head, wondering if you should tell Joel it was a song you’d heard on his radio and had stuck in your head ever since. Probably not worth it; it usually didn’t go well when you tried to talk about things like that. Joel and Tess talked about before a lot— well, it wasn't that often, because it wasn't very productive to talk about it. But they talked about it occasionally and you never had anything to say. Once, you tried to weigh in: they were reminiscing on concerts before the outbreak, bands and artists they remembered, and you chirped about how "I read about that in a book once!"
They both glared at you, and you didn't say anything else. But you didn’t take it too personally, they just didn’t want to feel old— but you didn’t think either of them were old! These days, old wasn’t a matter of years, it was really just about usefulness— like poor Mrs. Davis, she was old, she couldn’t do much for herself anymore— and they were both… actually, they were both significantly more useful than you. That made you sad. But at least Joel had helped you get better with guns— not that he ever let you carry one.
“I didn’t ask you to do that,” Joel broke the silence as you washed his favorite mug.
“I know,” you said back, voice light and chipper. “You don’t have to.”
You felt his eyes linger on you for a moment after that, but he didn’t say anything else.
~
Though they had decided already that you weren’t joining them on the run, you ended up there— mostly by happenstance— when Joel and Tess met with the buyer who wanted half of what they managed to bring back. Not many people in the QZ could afford that kind of contraband, so it made sense that it was one of the FEDRA soldier’s bankrolling this. They were by no means rich, but they had a lot of pull and could provide all sorts of ration cards and promises to look the other way if future issues arose. He couldn’t guarantee safe movement out and back in through the boundaries of the city, but he at least promised to look the other way in any future run-ins with the law.
“So that’s it: you’ll leave at eleven, you’re back by four, and you bring me my share the next day during my break?” the soldier confirmed.
“Yep,” Tess agreed. “Quick and painless. Hopefully.”
You didn’t expect the man’s eyes to land on you, but you didn’t particularly care for it. "Is your little lap dog coming, too?" he smirked, glancing at Joel after he was finished raking his stare over you.
Your face got hot instantly, with shame and confusion. "I— I'm not in his lap," you denied, "that's not— we don't—"
“No,” Joel interrupted firmly, “she’s not coming.”
There was an awkward silence, the place where he might’ve said and she’s not my lap dog, if he cared much about the accusation. Tess seemed to be hanging onto that silence nearly as tightly as you were.
“Whatever,” the soldier finally brought everyone’s attention back to the conversation, “just meet me here tomorrow at half past one, and we’ll see what you’ve got.”
You were still thinking about that conversation that night— while you were keeping watch, like Joel had asked you to. It was really boring; you spent most of the time on the couch, reading a book you’d bought off someone for a few rations. After a while, your curiosity got the better of you, and you started snooping around Joel’s apartment. There wasn’t much to look at… he didn’t own much, just a few shirts— actually, you thought those jeans he always wore might be his only pair…
Your search led you to his bed. Even with no one here to see you do it, you were a little embarrassed to lean in and take a whiff of his pillow— but it was totally worth it. It smelled just like him, that warm piney kind of scent he had; in times like this, not many people could afford to smell nice, but Joel could. Not to say that he was the type to splurge on all the nicest stuff, you were pretty sure he didn’t even own cologne, but he owned shampoo and deodorant, so that put him in the 80th percentile for hygiene in the Boston QZ.
But it wasn’t just those products you smelled on his sheets— there was something quintessentially Joel to it all, something impossible to define but incredibly addictive. It was instinctual, the way you got in his bed and curled up in those sheets, burying yourself in the comfort of him. It was so easy to imagine how he might hold you, now that you were here— all you were missing was his strength, his weight, slow and steady breaths behind you as he drifted to sleep…
You woke up when you heard the door shut. Startled into sitting up, you were hoping you’d have time to get out of his bed before he saw you— but he was already standing there, staring at you. He was just a shape in the dark, so you couldn’t see his face, but you heard the exasperated sigh.
“I thought I told you to sleep on the couch,” he said.
“R-right, sorry,” you coughed, recalling last time this happened with a pained wince.
“Better yet, I thought I told you to keep watch!”
“You know you just say that,” you mumbled, “so you can keep me away from the real work.”
He didn’t say anything, probably because he knew you were right— but even if he’d wanted to, he couldn’t, because Tess walked in a second later. “Can’t believe he tried to stiff us,” she was saying as she walked in, half-laughing in frustration. “Well, yeah I can,” she added a second later.
Her attitude changed when she saw you in the bed. “I— I’ll go back to my—” you started, but you ended up just getting up and leaving in a hurry before you could really finish your thought.
Wiping a small tear from under your eye quickly, you walked out of Joel’s apartment and started for your own bunk across the city— even though it was more likely than not that somebody would hassle you for walking around during curfew.
Yes, if you had a little more self-respect, you would just stop hanging around those two and find some other work to do, but Joel had done something for you that you could never repay and never forget. He didn’t have to love you the way you loved him— and you’d been sure for a while that he never would— but couldn’t he at least be a little nicer? You wouldn’t feel right being anywhere but at his side, no matter how much he made it seem like he never wanted you there at all.
~
Honestly, you did consider not going back the next morning— but you figured they might actually need you for the next part. Okay, not need, but they could at least use you for something: after smuggling anything in, you need a fence, someone to pawn this stuff off. Joel and Tess did a decent job of keeping a low profile, but it was even easier to do so when they had someone like you moving contraband around Boston’s population.
So, after a few hours of sleep on that radically uncomfortable cot, you decided to head back to Joel’s place. The sun was just above the horizon by this time, but only the people working early shifts for their rations were up now; you liked the city best when it was quiet like this, but then again, you liked almost everything better quiet.
Usually, Joel’s apartment was the same way. But when you walked in, the energy was completely different than you were used to. Where you’d normally find Tess counting up the score while Joel sipped on coffee (or liquor, depending most on the hour), instead you walked in on what was clearly a lover’s quarrel.
The thing was, this was not your typical argument— they were doing it Joel and Tess style, which is to say, as repressed as possible. In fact, they weren’t even talking when you walked in, but just the way they were standing was indicative of the discomfort they were clearly trying not to acknowledge.
Tess was at the window, arms crossed, looking at the view; and you knew that was a bad sign, because there was no view to be had, the QZ was an eyesore and she complained about it all the time. Joel was sitting at the table, facing the other way, his hand squeezing his own fist instead of the handle of his mug— it didn’t look injured, but his face still had a hint of pain on it.
“I’m sorry—” you mumbled, not sure what you were apologizing for yet, but Tess interrupted you.
“I’ll go,” she decided, walking over to the table.
“Okay,” Joel agreed, not looking at her.
Well, you were no relationship expert, and you didn’t even know what they were arguing about… but you knew that was pretty cold. “So that’s all you’re gonna say to me?” Tess prompted him, her tone tight and her eyes red.
You kept your head low, as if that would hide the fact that you could clearly see and hear all this.
“Yeah,” Joel decided, not as aloof as usual; it reminded you of how he usually spoke to you, that frustration, but it was definitely different. More… exhausted. “Yeah, it is.”
Tess put her weight predominantly on one leg, her hips shifting, as she let out a scoffing sort of breath. For a moment, she looked at you; you looked back at her shyly from beneath your brows before looking away. Why would she look at me right now?
Shaking her head, she left, mumbling to herself but you couldn’t make it out. The door slammed behind her. Joel sighed next.
“Everything okay?” you asked sheepishly, twisting your boot on the floor to watch the shapes it made in the thin layer of dust.
“Clearly,” he insisted, and the sarcasm was obvious though his voice was neutral. You could tell he didn’t want you to prod more— anyone who knew Joel for two minutes would know that— but you still chewed your lip as you wondered what you should do.
Your attention turned to the stacks of contraband on the table; most of it was perfectly legal material to own, just not legal to acquire from outside the city’s perimeter. “Looks like a good haul this time,” you noticed, hoping a change of subject would soothe him a little. Maybe it did, but he didn’t show it. He just kept squeezing his fist, and you gently sat down across from him at the table— and you started doing what you figured you should, going through what they’d brought back and starting to figure how much you could get for it.
For a while, he entertained that conversation, though with as short of responses as possible. Not even a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’, just hums and grunts that got the point across. You could tell he was thinking, but you could also tell he didn’t want to be— that he’d rather forget about all that. For once, he was struggling to do that.
It scared you to imagine doing something he so obviously didn’t want you to do, but you knew you couldn’t ignore it forever. “What made her so upset?” you asked softly, finally.
He paused for so long that you thought he was just ignoring your question, but he did eventually say something. “She told me something I wasn’t ready to hear,” he answered, “and… and I guess I said the wrong thing.”
“What did you say?”
“Actually, I didn’t say anything,” he admitted with a thin laugh. “But, I said nothing in the wrong way.”
"... Do you think she'll come back?" you pressed, and his sigh was answer enough.
You had to wonder if he'd make you a real partner in all this now. Probably not, right? He thought so little of you before, that wouldn't change just because Tess was out.
“I’m sorry,” you decided.
“It’s not your fault,” he promised. “It was me.”
You didn’t press on that, already thankful and pleasantly surprised by how much he’d shared. He stood up a moment later, leaving the table and moving to the kitchenette so he could make some coffee; oddly, that comforted you. Like things were going to go forward now, like life could be normal again and he would still drink his coffee.
For a while, it was quiet— just how you liked it, and how you figured he liked it, too. He was humming a song at one point but you didn’t think he realized he was doing it.
It was so quiet, in fact, that when you went to lay on the sofa later, you ended up accidentally dozing off. You couldn’t say how long you were asleep— you were pretty underslept, but it didn’t feel like more than an hour— just that you were awoken to the sound of movement in the kitchen area.
Sitting up, you tilted your head when you saw Joel had begun packing up the contraband haul— well, half of it. “What are you—?” you began to ask, but then you saw the time, and you remembered; but he answered you anyways.
“Our buyer’s on his break now,” Joel announced as he stuffed a pack of bandages into his bag. “I said I would meet him to show him what we got.”
“I can go with you!” you announced. “You know, if Tess isn’t—”
“It’s fine,” he insisted, “I can do it myself.”
“Joel, please,” you pressed, “I promise I’ll do whatever you need me to, I just wanna help—”
“I need you to stay here,” he frowned.
Some things never change, huh? “Why don’t you just let me go? Let me help you?” you whimpered, lip shaking as you started to cry. You hated yourself for it, but you knew you couldn’t stop it.
There was a pause before he responded. “I don’t like the way he looks at you,” Joel explained, but you doubted that was the real reason he didn’t want you to come. “It only takes one of us, you’re better off here.”
“Tess was gonna go!” you reminded him, getting more upset. "I know I'm not…" you trailed off as you tried not to cry too much or too loudly. "I can't do what she can— I'm not strong…"
He sighed as he knelt down in front of you, resting his hand on your knee. You peeked out from behind your fingers, but looked down again.
"I'm not— I'm not smart, either," you whimpered. "I don't know anything, about before, about now—"
"That's not true," he mumbled, but you weren't finished yet.
"Nobody knows why you even keep me around, I sure don't," you shrugged, dropping your hands defeatedly, hot tears running faster down your face and dripping onto your pants; his hand reached up and wiped your cheeks with a gentleness you never knew he had. “M’not… I’m not tough, like you guys…”
"You know what you are, little girl?" he replied quietly. "You're good. You're sweet. Me an' Tess, we need someone like you to keep us from bein' sad old assholes all the time…"
He sighed, and you thought was done talking, until he spoke again, softer.
"I need someone like you."
Your heart swelled, and light filled your chest, until you had just enough confidence to finally blurt out what you'd been holding in for months: "Joel, you should know that I always—"
"Shh," he soothed, nodding. "I know."
Your face got hot instantly again, and your heart sank. "I think everybody knows," you mumbled awkwardly, giving him a half-smile through the drying tears. "But I thought— it's just that you never—"
“I couldn’t,” he insisted. “You understand that? I couldn’t, not with you—”
“Why not?” you snapped. “Why can’t you?”
“If you don’t know why, you’re more hopeless than I thought,” he frowned.
“I know— I know I’m… a lot younger than you…” you mumbled, almost not wanting to say it in case he actually hadn’t noticed that. “I know you think I’m not very mature and stuff… but that shouldn’t matter when you really love someone—”
“Woah, hey,” he coughed, “love? Sweetheart, you’ve got a crush—”
“No! Don’t tell me how I feel,” you snapped, surprising both of you with your sudden ability to stand up to him. “You can tell me what to do but not what to feel.”
“Okay,” he softened up, “fine. That’s fair. But it’ll pass—”
"I've never loved anybody before," you whimpered, "and I'm never gonna love anybody like I love you. I know that! I know you think I'm just a stupid kid who doesn't understand love, but I know that I really love you! Okay? So just… just stop talking! Doesn’t need to take this long for you to reject me, geez…”
There was a pregnant pause, you were too caught up in your own frustration to really notice it: the way he looked to the side, chewing on the inside of his cheek for a moment. You weren’t expecting him to say anything after that, so it nearly startled you when he spoke. “It was last night, after you left,” he explained. “I— I thought about telling you to come back, figured you’d be safer on the couch than walking back across the city at that time…”
Wrapping your arms around your chest, you smiled a little imagining that, but you knew you couldn’t have taken him up on that offer: it would’ve killed you, trying to sleep on that sofa while Joel and Tess shared the bed.
“She told me not to,” Joel continued. “That’s… that’s how it started, I guess…”
“That girl’s so obsessed with you,” Tess laughed lightly, toying with Joel’s lapel. “It’s cute, really. I mean, it’s sad— but it’s cute.”
“Hm,” Joel said first, not really listening— it took him a second to properly react. “Why is it sad?” he asked when her words processed completely.
“‘Cause she thinks she might actually have a chance,” Tess explained.
That was it, what he did wrong; he sees it now, in retrospect, but at the time he figured saying nothing was his safest bet. Apparently, he didn’t have to say anything.
“Shit,” Tess said suddenly, moving instantly from shock to anger. “Are you fucking serious?”
“What?” Joel spat.
“You know fucking what,” she returned sharply. “That look— you looked away.”
“Okay? So?” Joel tried to defend himself, but he knew that she knew now— believe it or not, he really wasn’t much of a liar. Especially with her.
“She’s a goddamn fetus, Joel,” Tess reminded him. “She hasn’t seen a hundredth of the shit we’ve seen, she hasn’t lost anyone—”
“Lost her parents,” Joel corrected.
“Well, we all lose our parents,” Tess rolled her eyes, “that’s part of life.”
Not the way she lost them, Joel wanted to add, but he was going back to his original plan of saying nothing.
“She’s not like us,” Tess insisted.
“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Joel decided.
That was the point of no return; because Tess had never thought of you as competition, she barely even thought of you at all, but if innocence was something he wanted… then the competition was already over before it even started. The silence was heavy, more sad than angry, and Joel knew he really fucked up because he’d never really seen Tess speechless before. Is it bad that he didn’t regret it, though? Maybe he could’ve handled things better, but telling her the truth couldn’t be wrong. It’s not like he’d been hiding it, really— he never even acknowledged it himself, not often.
“I can’t believe you,” she shook her head, and shame twisted in his gut. “Part of me always— not always, I guess, but part of me wondered. Sometimes the way you looked at her…”
As she trailed off, Joel looked down, too afraid for her to look in his eyes now.
“You’d do anything to keep her safe,” she said instead of finishing that last thought. “I told myself you didn’t look at me like that because you knew I could protect myself.”
“I do,” he promised.
“So what do you want?” she asked point-blank. “Something you can protect, or something you don’t have to?”
“And what did you say?” you asked hurriedly.
“I told her what I wanted,” was all he replied, and your heart skipped. “And that’s… that’s why she left.”
Joel nodded slightly, looking away. But you reached out and touched his face, turning it back towards you. Impulsively, you leaned forward and kissed him; it took all the courage you had, and a hand on his shoulder for balance, but you felt him kiss you back after a moment. It was gentle, for how sudden it was, and you sighed as his hand moved higher up your leg.
You were still crying, because of course you were, but he didn’t mind as much as you’d worried: he only wiped your tears away, holding onto your face, standing up and pulling you with him.
“I love you,” you whispered as he embraced you, wanting to say it a thousand times now that it wasn’t the worst-kept secret in Boston. “I love you, Joel—”
“I know,” he promised, whispering back into the kiss which got deeper with each passing moment. “I know, darlin’.”
That was enough for you— that was plenty: the way he kissed you, and held you, calling you darlin’ in that rough-yet-gentle voice… you were weak already, melting into his touch, ready to give him anything.
In fact, he had to put a hand on your shoulder and gently push you away to get you to calm down, and your face heated up as you realized how eager you’d been. “Don’t need to get so worked up, m’gonna take care of you now, okay?”
“You always take care of me,” you noticed.
“A different way,” he explained.
Just the way those brown eyes darkened, just the way he said that made your thighs clench against each other. “Y-you’ll miss the meeting with the buyer,” you realized.
“Fuck,” Joel grumbled, and you smiled a bit. “Waited this long and now I’ve gotta fuckin’ leave you again.”
Your hand rested on his chest, the soft flannel of his shirt transmitting some of the warmth of his body, and you looked up with him with wide, wet eyes.
“I know you hate waitin’ here, but… I always liked it,” he admitted, his voice softer yet deeper. “I always liked knowing you were here, waiting for me…”
Your heart swelled. “Y-yeah— I didn’t mind waiting for you so much,” you admitted in return, “just didn’t want you to think that’s all I was good for.”
He kissed your temple, making your chest flood with warmth. “I know,” he promised. “You’ll be here when I get back, won’tcha? Can’t disappear on me now.”
“I won’t, I’ll be here,” you assured, turning your face to peck his cheek in return. It seemed to surprise him, like he hadn’t had tenderness of that sort in a long time.
~
Funny how you’d waited for him all night before, but that half hour felt longer than all of them combined. You were quite sure you knew what he meant before— about how he would take care of you in a different way— and it put you on edge all afternoon.
You couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d kissed you, about his hands pulling you closer. Or his eyes: if he’d ever looked at you like that before, you hadn’t noticed (which was probably what he intended).
For how much time you spent wondering what you would do, what you would say, when he returned, you ended up not doing much of either: he was on you the moment he stepped in the door, though that was sort of what you’d been betting on when you decided to strip down to just your underwear and wait for him like that. Not that you minded the idea of him, you know, tearing your clothes off like one of those romance novels— you just didn’t like the idea of having to wait any longer than you already had and this shirt had way too many buttons.
He did take a moment to stare you down when he came back, to appreciate your nakedness, and despite imagining showing yourself to him many times before, you felt a little self-conscious with his eyes just piercing through you like that: you didn’t cover yourself, ignoring a slight instinct to do so, but you did wrap your arms over your stomach and cross your legs as you sat on his bed.
Waiting for him to say something— or, possibly, waiting for yourself to find some courage to speak— you were a little taken aback when he grabbed you and kissed you. And you realized, as his lips moved with yours even harder, deeper, needier than before, that there was nothing else to say.
He climbed on top of you on that bed, laid you down on it gently, as his weight pressed you down into the mattress. You could've sworn you heard him growl when he rocked his hips against yours, a firm bulge in his jeans pressing right up to where heat had gathered between your legs.
Fingers weaving in his hair, you hummed as you did all you could to keep him close, as if he might just disappear if you didn’t hold him near to you. But he didn’t seem like much of a flight risk, considering his tight grip on you— so tight it could leave marks, which you hoped it would. You needed more than just memories of this.
“Tell me this is what you want,” he demanded, his voice breathless yet somehow not weak at all. “Need to know you want this.”
“Fuck, Joel, f’course,” you promised— wasn’t it obvious? It probably was. But you could understand if he was still fighting back some guilt; you just wanted to do everything you could to help him forget about that. “So bad,” you continued, “for so long…”
“Since I saved you?” he assumed, his teeth grazing your lip like a threat to bite down harder— a threat that made you throb from the inside out.
“Before,” you admitted, smiling sheepishly.
“Didn’t even know me before,” he noticed, raising an eyebrow.
“Saw you around sometimes—” god, am I blushing as hard as it feels like I am? — “thought maybe you could… you know…”
Protect me. Hold me. Take care of me. And fuck me like the world is ending even though it already did.
He smirked at you proudly, leaning in to kiss your neck this time, following some invisible trail that made you even more sensitive to the touch of his lips; after he kissed right under your ear, he whispered to you.
“Then just go ahead and take what you want, darlin’.”
After a shiver ran over you, so strong you thought it might never end, your hands shot down between you so you could get to work on his belt and fly; you felt his smile against your skin, then his teeth a moment later, as his hand rubbed the curve of your waist gently.
Both of you gasped when your fingers wrapped gently around his cock, for different reasons. The skin was so smooth, it was hard to believe something this soft and silky was part of Joel— and it was hot, or maybe your fingers were just cold, but you hoped that didn't bother him.
He was already starting to move his hips just a bit, rocking into your touch, and you hummed when he suddenly grabbed your hand to force it to press firmer against himself. "You thought about touchin' me like this before?" he asked in a voice that was breathy and low— you loved hearing the pleasure in his voice.
"Y-yeah," you admitted shyly; when he let your hand go, your touch wandered, your hands sliding up under the bottom of his shirt so you could feel the skin there— the firm muscle, the thin scars, the graying hairs that formed a trail down his stomach…
Grabbing your wrists, he pinned them down above your head, and you let out a joyful whine. "Keep those there," he ordered, and you nodded as you watched him intently.
His hands traced down your body, making shivers run all over your skin; how could a man with so much strength touch you so delicately?
He purred as his fingers ran down to your panties, toying with the edge of the fabric before carefully pulling them down your legs. You tried not to wiggle too much, but your hips were desperate for some friction, for some attention from him— they didn't have to wait long, though. He groaned at the sight as he parted your legs, grabbing himself to rub his fat head through your folds. "Fuck," he mumbled, your channel clenching on nothing as you saw how far apart his tip forced your swollen lips, "so wet for me already, bet I'll slide right in…"
Your back arched with a moan just imagining that, and he pushed your stomach down flat with his free hand so you wouldn't angle too far away from him, laying his body atop yours. Though you tried to stay still, you couldn’t stop shaking as he lined himself up; it felt surreal, it felt hyperreal— his skin against yours was unlike anything you could’ve imagined.
You’d sort of wondered if he’d say something before he put it in, maybe a quick you ready? or even here it comes which would’ve been stupid but an appreciated warning nonetheless. Instead, he just looked at your face carefully, and pushed inside. It was sudden, sharp; your whole body tensed up and you sucked in a breath before biting your lip.
He only made it halfway in, struggling against how tight you were. You were doing everything you could not to give away your pain, but he must've seen it in your expression.
"What's wrong?" he asked in a hoarse whisper. "I'm hurting you…"
"No— Joel, please don't stop—"
You wrapped your legs around his hips to try to keep him inside, but he pulled out most of the way and looked down— and you winced when he saw the blood. "Baby, you… are you— is this your—? Fuck, why didn't you say something?"
"You wouldn't have done it with me if you knew it was my first time," you explained with a whimper.
"No, baby— I just would've taken my time with you, s'all," he sighed, "would've helped you— sweetie, it didn't need to hurt like that…"
Clutching tighter at his shirt, you pulled him down into a needy kiss. "Hurt me more, Joel," you pleaded into it with a breathy whisper, "do whatever you want to me. I'm yours— that's all I want, just to be yours."
He kissed you back, slow but passionate; but, much to your dismay, he pulled out and sat up.
"No, Joel, I'm sorry," you whined, "I'm sorry— I didn't mean to lie, I'm so sorry, I promise I can be good! M'gonna be really good for you!"
But he just shook his head, and you bit your quivering lip as tears ran down your temples. He smiled, just a little. "Such a crybaby," he scolded you softly. "What am I gonna do with you, little girl? You can't even keep yourself together."
He leaned down again, but he slid his knees down on the bed so he could position his face between your legs. He kissed your inner thigh first, and you jumped because it tickled.
Then he held your hips, running his thumbs over your skin soothingly, and you tried not to squirm too much as he looked up at you with those dark eyes— much darker than before. “You want me to taste you?” he asked, like it was your idea or something.
“Uh, yeah,” you mumbled sheepishly, and he actually laughed for a moment.
“Yeah?” he repeated. “Could you be a little more specific?”
Oh— he wants me to beg. “Um— please? Taste me, Joel…”
He smiled, but not like a haha funny smile or an oh that’s nice smile— a really dirty kind of smile, even though his teeth were actually in better condition than most out here. “Okay, baby,” he agreed.
He was subtle about it at first, just giving gentle kisses all around; you felt… exposed, even more than you had with his face between your legs before.
“Is that alright?” he asked, his voice rougher than the last time you heard it.
“Y-yeah,” you choked, clearing your throat. “Don’t… don’t stop, please…”
When he got back to it, he was much more aggressive— long, slow licks between your lips, sloppy kisses with his eyes shut tight; and you whined as you held on tighter to the sheets. You didn’t realize how hard you were shaking until his grip on your thighs was bruisingly tight. And as he held you down, he just dug in deeper: every time you thought he’d stop escalating the intensity of it all, he just did it more— he just did everything more— until you couldn’t control your moans and gasps anymore.
His tongue was the fucking devil; he slid it inside you and your eyes rolled back. He sucked greedily on your clit until your hips bucked uncontrollably, moaning against your skin just enough that you could hear it over your own shameless cries.
"Joel, fuck, how are you—? Oh god—"
"Mm?" he encouraged you to finish your thought without breaking away from you.
"How does that feel so good?" you sobbed. "Oh my god— please don't stop, never stop, oh fuck!"
All he was doing was flicking his tongue over your bud, such a small interaction with a tiny little organ, and your whole body was shaking. Reaching down and grabbing his hair, you didn't mean to tug on it so hard but you also didn't expect him to moan deeply when you did.
His mouth moved a little higher, focusing on the bud you were sure had never been this swollen or this sensitive. Doing so freed your opening, and one of his thick fingers prodded at it. "Please," you panted, wanting any part of him to be inside you again.
He pushed it in, the roughness of his skin creating the perfect friction on your delicate walls. You were waiting to feel his knuckle against you, but instead he only put it in maybe halfway, not very far at all. It didn’t make much sense to you, until he started to rub one place just inside and a gasp instantly inflated your chest.
“Oh—” you choked, and he was licking harder on your clit at the same time that he added a second finger; you’d never felt anything like it before. “Joel!” you squealed, hating how girlish it sounded but helpless to the control he had over your body with just two fingers and his tongue.
His rhythm wasn’t all that fast but it was relentless, the exact tempo you needed for that pleasure to build and build, toes curling and vision getting all spotty— you tried to look down at him sometimes, but your head wanted so badly to tilt back and let everything go black.
“I— oh, fuck— I’m gonna— fuck, Joel!” you sobbed, grabbing on tighter to his hair; you took one glimpse at it, and when you saw the scattered silver hairs peeking out from between your fingers, it just made you even more overwhelmed.
He hummed and looked up at you, encouraging you— his fingers pumped faster and faster suddenly, and when it hit, you felt like your whole body was going numb. It started where he was touching you, but then a moment later it was in your head, then it was just running all over and you were too weak to do anything but give into it.
Suddenly it became too much, and the hand that had been holding him down by his hair was suddenly pushing him away; you blinked away the spots in your vision to catch a glimpse of him with that beard soaked in you, but his fingers hadn’t stopped yet. “Oh… ohhh my god…” you whined, breathing harder than you could ever remember breathing before, your head getting all dizzy and cloudy as he smirked up at you and continued fucking you with his hand.
Your hole was pulsing, flexing over and over, waves of slick leaking out until you could feel the puddle spreading under you. Your cheeks burned with humiliation, even though he kept praising you as his fingers milked everything from your swollen spot. "Good girl, good girl," he said over and over, "fuck, good job, soak the sheets, baby— soak my fingers, keep going…"
"Joel," you sobbed, desperate for some relief from the overwhelming sensation. He didn't really stop, just slowed down a lot, but he kept twisting his fingers and rubbing that one place until your quivering body collapsed completely onto his mattress. And then he went on for just a little bit longer after that.
Then he stopped. When you thought you might fucking pass out.
He climbed up your body and brought his two soaked fingers to your slack lips.
"You want a taste, too, baby?" he purred.
You dutifully opened your mouth and did your best to clean his fingers off, sucking and licking as he hummed a bit; his eyes got a little darker as he felt your tongue run all over his rough fingers.
"What do you think?" he prompted when he pulled his fingers away, and you swallowed as you made a little face.
"I dunno if I like it," you admitted nervously. "Kinda sour."
"Really? I think your pussy's fuckin' delicious."
Your face flushed, but you didn't say anything else because he was reaching down to hold his cock again— and your heart started racing.
"Ready to do this the right way?" he prompted, and you nodded eagerly. "S'gonna feel so much better, now you're all ready for me. Ready for something this big inside ya— but it might still sting at first, okay? Just hold onto me tight."
That you did, tighter than you thought you could— apparently you were stronger than you realized, especially considering that orgasm nearly took you out a minute ago. But you had to hold on that tight as he began to push that fat head inside you, stretching you so wide before he'd even gotten the ridge of it past your opening. It didn't sting like before, or at least not as much, but it was still completely overwhelming. You forgot to breathe until he was halfway in: you gasped out his name, reminding yourself he was inside you and above you and everywhere, everything.
"See how much— fuck— how much easier it is now?" he grunted, sliding into you slowly until his hips met yours. "See how you're takin' all'a me? God damn, still tight as hell, though."
You were delirious already, he hadn't even moved yet. You didn't think it could get much better than his mouth on you, than coming because of him, but this? This perfect stretch, this addictive friction, knowing he was completely inside you and that he liked how you felt? This was ecstasy, bliss. And he hadn't even fucking moved yet.
"Gonna have a hard time being gentle with you now," he admitted with a growl beside your ear. "You've got one of those perfect little pussies that just needs to be fucked hard— suckin' me in, just beggin' for it rough and fast."
"Joel," you whined, "fuck me however you want, please… I can take it, I swear, I want you so bad…"
Still, when he moved, it was slow and patient. Too goddamn slow.
"Fuck," you sobbed, back arching up off the bed as he carefully savored every detail of you. "Fuck, Joel, I can't— I can't believe you're— I can't believe it's you. I wanted you so much I couldn't fucking breathe."
He smiled at you, and leaned in to kiss your neck; you let out what could only be described as a joyful whimper. “Wanted you too,” he finally admitted. “Tried not to, you’re so young… jus’ couldn’t help it after a while.”
"Faster," you whined, "please, fuck, please please—"
"You are so goddamn spoiled, you know that?" Joel grunted— but then he did it, he fucked you even faster than you'd imagined. His thrusts were still deep and long, but they came at you quicker than you could process and you nearly screamed.
You were even more sensitive after he’d made you come the first time; it was just overwhelming, the feeling of him, and you felt like your mind had left your body— like your mind had left you entirely.
“Y’feel fuckin’ perfect, darlin’,” he praised lowly, kissing your neck with all the gentleness and patience his thrusts lacked. “So good for me.”
Maybe it was pathetic, but being good for him felt fucking amazing— not just physically, obviously. It felt like having a purpose; you’d never really felt that before.
You lost track of time; honestly, you lost track of everything. Everything that wasn’t this had fallen away, and it was just you holding on for dear life as Joel wrecked you all over again with every motion. "Hear that? How wet you are for me?" he groaned, and yes, there was a squishy-wet sound that filled the room with each thrust. You tried to answer him, say something witty about how he made you that wet so many times, but only moans came when you opened your mouth. "I asked you a question," he reminded you. "Can you fuckin' hear it?"
Whimpering, you could only bite your lip and nod.
"Oh," he smiled, "I see— you get stupid with cock in you, huh? Get fucked right and that silly brain just turns off?"
You nodded again— wasn’t much else for you to do.
"Just gonna be a dumb whore for me now?" he asked. "Just kidding, I know you already were."
“Fuck— Joel—” you choked.
"No no, it's okay— it's good,” he soothed you, kissing a tear from your temple that you hadn’t even realized was there. “You don't need to think. I don't need you to think. You can just be my fucktoy, okay? You can just be my slut. Say it."
"I-I'm your slut, Joel…"
He hummed appreciatively; your moan caught in your throat, and you tried to hide your face in his shoulder— you couldn’t believe he was still dressed, for all you knew he still had his boots on, and meanwhile you were stripped of everything. Not just your clothes: you were stripped of all pretense (didn’t need it) and dignity (didn’t want it). You’d thought of yourself as his for quite some time now, but now that he’d really made you his, it was more than you could’ve imagined.
When you came with him inside you, it wasn’t like how it was before— definitely similar, obviously the same thing at the core of it, but very different. Before it was so… sudden, like a firework going off and then glittering into darkness (at least, that was how you understood fireworks to be, you’d only ever had them explained to you). This was more like a deep pressure that just built and built and built, and then at some point you’d crossed that threshold and you were there but it didn’t go away, it just stayed at the peak while he kept moving inside you.
He grunted as your walls beared down on him, watching the tears of ecstasy stream down your face. “Tryin’ to milk my cock, huh?” he accused with a snarl to his tone. “S’that what you want?”
You weren’t really paying attention, you couldn’t while he was fucking you like that. Digging your fingers into his shoulders through the flannel shirt, you just whimpered and nodded.
“S’workin’, baby,” he smiled, “little pussy’s got me so tight— is it a little too much, honey? You’re cryin’...”
“I— I always cry,” you sniffled.
“M’not gonna make you take too much more,” he promised, “doin’ so good honey— gonna let you rest soon—”
“No, d-don’t stop,” you begged, and he laughed a little.
“I’m close,” he explained, and even though that should’ve been obvious, it made you feel better. “Normally takes me a little longer, but… never had a pussy like this.”
That was probably just flattery, but you were happy to believe it. Happy enough to just lay back and let that pleasure wash over you, but of course, he expected more of you than that.
"Tell me where I can come," he ordered.
"Fuck, Joel— anywhere you want, anywhere," you pleaded, struggling to keep your train of thought but desperate to appease him as best you could.
"Inside you?" he pressed.
"Yeah, fuck, anywhere," you insisted.
"I bet that's what you want— you want it inside. You want this cunt full and dripping."
“Fuck— yeah,” you agreed, “s’what I want— please, please—”
“Shh, don’t need to beg,” he assured sweetly, kissing your neck again— burying his face in the crook of your shoulder, until his panting breaths echoed on your skin. “Don’t need to beg, darlin’, gonna fill you nice and deep—”
“Please,” you said again, ignoring his assurances.
“Just like you need it—”
“Please, Joel— love you so much,” you sobbed, your thighs starting to go a little numb where his jeans were rubbing against them and your clit getting sore from the way he stayed deep inside and grinded himself against you.
“I know,” he promised again, “jus’ say it one more time.”
“I love you, Joel,” you cried, and it was over somewhat suddenly: he stayed still, and you could feel his grip on you tighten, and you heard that sound that was like a groan and a sigh at the same time. You’d hoped you’d be able to really feel it inside you, the warmth of his come, but everything was so hot that it was all the same— what you did feel was full, even more than you had just from his cock in you, and it was enough to make you clutch at his shoulders again despite having almost no energy left in you.
Though he stayed inside for a little while after, he did eventually have to pull out; you were too exhausted to even think about trying to close your legs when he stared down at you— at his come leaking slowly from your hole.
You knew there would need to be a conversation soon about what this all meant— what should happen now with the business, with your relationship, even just what should happen tomorrow morning since you’d both given in to instinct rather than take the safer route and have Joel pull out…
But that would have to wait; you still couldn’t think straight, you couldn’t think about anything but him in fact.
Thankfully, Joel was just fine with the silence. He just held you, let you wander between sleep and wakefulness, and wiped that last stray tear away from your face.
“I’m sorry I keep crying,” you offered quietly, breaking a long silence.
“I don’t mind,” he promised.
#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller hbo x reader#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal fanfiction#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n
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holding their hand
Tokyo revengers boys holding your hand for the first time Pt.2
Includes: Kakucho, Hanma, Ran, Rindou
tags: fluff, flirting, confession, protectiveness??
A/N: I didn’t expect my first story to get many likes so thank you for everyone who interacted ♡♡♡
Kakucho
Kakucho is always kind to you constantly providing you with nice gestures, so when he invited you to get some coffee you didn’t think anything of it.
Since it was nearing Valentine’s Day, the coffee shop had a discount for couples. Kakucho asked if you wanted to put on an act for some discounted food, and of course you agreed because who doesn’t like free food.
The waiter came to the table complementing you with a smile “your girlfriend is extremely beautiful.” “I know she is” he says with a sweet yet cocky smile on his face. You decide to ignore it telling the waiter thankyou and flashing Kakucho a smile because maybe it was just to keep the act up.
After paying the check Kakucho gets up from his side of the booth walking over to your side holding his hand out, you take his hand as he helps you out the booth. “Wow your really putting your all into this act” You say as yall walk out of the shop hand in hand. “It’s not an act stupid” he responds with a slight smile as he opens the shop door for you to exit. “What” you respond as you exit the shop. “I said it’s not an act Y/N” he says before he grabs you by the waist to move you to the side of the sidewalk opposite from the cars.
Hanma
Hanma was a wild card and everyone knew it. He was constantly taunting you and mocking you any chance he got. It was so much to the point that you couldn’t tell when he was being serious or joking.
Although he was crazy you could see he had a heart making himself vulnerable sometimes, you don’t even think he was aware when he was even exposing his true self sometimes.
As you two were walking you end up tripping over your shoes causing you to stumble. “Next time I’ll push you down myself” he say’s chuckling as he looks down at you. “If you push me you’ll regret it…trust me” you say jokingly knowing in the event that he actually pushed you that you would be defenseless.
He shoves you jokingly “now do something” he says smiling.
As you go to shove him back he grabs your wrist while smiling down at you. “Your weak” he says laughing as you give him a slight pout. “You’re not as funny as you think you are” you say with furrowed brows. “You know you enjoy my antics” he says moving his grip down from your wrist to your hand relaxing it in the middle of the two of y’all. “I don’t” you reply monotone but it was obvious you weren’t mad.
Ran
Ran was a lady’s man nobody could deny that. So you never took it seriously whenever he tried to flirt or compliment you.
But this time you were a little unsure. Here he was giving you a bag with a gift. “Open it” he says nonchalantly holding it out for you to grab. “Huh, what’s this?” you ask grabbing it from him taking out the crinkle paper inside. “Thought of you when I saw it” he says with a small smile as his low eyes look down at you with anticipation for your reaction.
You pull out a pearl necklace and a bracelet with the initial “R” dangling from it. “It’s very pretty” you say staring at it with admiration “but I think you left a bracelet for someone else in here stupid” you say thinking he was trying to buy gifts for multiple girls at once. “No I didn’t, it’s yours stupid* he says monotone looking at you with slight amusement. “I’m not stupid, my name doesn’t start with R, you messed up” you say smirking thinking you caught him holding the jewelry out for him to grab. “I know your name doesn’t start with R it’s because mine does” he says taking the jewelry, grabbing your wrist clipping the piece of delicate jewelry onto your wrist.
“Why did you get me this…don’t get me wrong I’m appreciative but why” you say looking up at him as he focuses on the jewelry he’s putting on your wrist. “Because you’re mine Y/N and I want everyone to know it” He smiles at you cockily after he finishes putting the jewelry on your wrist. You look at him a little surprised and suspicious. “Do you have an issue with that” he ask smirking down at you. “No…thanks for the jewelry it’s pretty, I like it” you say with a shy smile. “I know…pretty just like you” he says grabbing your hand.
Rindou
Rindou was your boy best friend. You two had the same humor and often laughed a lot with each other. And you two were now walking home from school together.
As you were walking home from school you looked down at your shoes to notice there untied. “Ugh my shoes keep coming untied” you groan starting to bend down. “Stop” he says lightly grabbing your arm lightly pulling you up. “Let me do it” he says smiling at you as he gets down on one knee. “Put your foot up Y/N” he says patting his thigh. “Oh ok” you say putting your foot on his thigh.
He starts focusing on tying your shoe for you. “You know I could tie it myself” you say looking down at him. “I know but I can’t let you tie your own shoes” he says taking your foot off his thigh as he finishes tying it.
You look at him confused as he stands up. “Why?” You ask him confused. “Because that’s not very gentlemanly” he says smirking at you. “If you say so” you shrug as you continue to walk.
He stops walking and you notice, so you turn around to see why he stopped. “You know Y/N, you’d never have to do anything for yourself if you were with me” he say hands in pockets. “Huh? What are you talking about” you say walking towards him.
“I’m saying that you would never have to lift a finger if you were with me” he says smirking grabbing your hand pulling you closer to him to get his point across. “Are you going to take me up on my offer” he say smirking looking over at you as he continues walking still holding your hand.
Part 1 down here ⇩
#tokyo revengers#tokyo rev x y/n#tokyo rev x you#tokyo rev x reader#tokyo rev fluff#tokyo rev headcanons#kakucho#hanma shuji#hanma x reader#tokyo revengers hanma#hanma shuuji x reader#tokrev hanma#hanma x you#shuji hanma x reader#ran haitani#rindou haitani#haitani brothers#haitani rindou x reader#haitani x reader#haitani rindou headcanons#haitani ran headcanons#haitani
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mike schmidt trying to flirt with you is a like a car crash. it’s so bad, but you’re intrigued.
he happens to be sitting next to you at abby’s yearly pediatrician check up. she’s sitting at one of the little tables in the lobby coloring while mike’s waiting for the nurse to call abby in. he can’t help but notice the absolute beauty sitting next to him. you’re flipping mindlessly through a magazine, looking up and sighing every so often as your wait time increases.
“terrible time management here, right?” mike asks. you glance over at him, his eyes nervously flickering from you to the wall. you don’t say anything, not sure if he was speaking to you or himself. mike sita up in his chair, trying to look more confident this time.
“terrible time management, right?” he asks again. “i swear every time we’re here, it takes half a day just for a little check up.”
“yeah,” you agree. “it doesn’t help that it’s always busy.”
mike hums in agreement, thinking of what to say next. god, he’s so dumb and helpless. was it really this hard to flirt, much less talk? he looks over at you, trying to catch something that he could say. perhaps maybe you’re wearing something he can compliment? or there’s something in your magazine that’s also interesting to him?
“do you have a staring problem or something?” you break him out of his thoughts. he looks into your eyes, his heart slipping a beat. “i… uh… no. i… just like looking at interesting things.” he rushes out.
you raise your brows. “i’m an interesting thing?” he wants to kick himself. “no! i mean, yes. what i meant to say was i like staring at beautiful… people.” he watches as your lips upturn, but you work to keep it in a straight line. god, now he just wants to someone to run him over with a semi. “i didn’t mean that either,” he’s quick to say.
“oh, so i’m not beautiful?” you scoff, can’t help but feeling a little amused. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him cute as well. you thought about saying something to him, but you’re glad you didn’t. if you did, you’d miss whatever this is.
his eyes widen and he wishes the nurses would call abby’s name. “yes! yes, you are very beautiful. i’m just uh… well.. i-i’m mike.”
“it’s nice to meet you, mike,” you say. you look back at your magazine, not really reading any of the words now.
“are you here with your, uh, kid?” mike asks. “yes,” you say at first. “well, she’s not mine. she’s my niece. my sister and her husband are out of town and i get to babysit her.”
you swear you hear mike say “thank god”.
“what about you? is that your little girl over there?” you point to abby who is sharing her crayons with another kid.
“yeah, but she’s my little sister,” he says. “ah, how sweet. she looks like a nice kid,” you say.
“she is. so, uh, do you live around here?” mike asks.
you stifle a giggle and nod. “i do.”
“oh, awesome!” he exclaims like he just won the lottery. you look at him again and he calms down, laughing awkwardly. “yeah, that’s cool. i mean, obviously you live here. or maybe you don’t. it would make sense. you’re babysitting, so —”
“josie hutchins?” a nurse calls out. “that’s me,” you say. you fold up the magazine and place it on the table next to you. mike looks so sad, like he just witness a puppy die. “ah, okay. nice talking to you.”
“you, too,” you smile sweetly, taking your neice by the hand. as you walk away, a little folded up piece of paper from your coat.
“h-hey! you forgot this,” mike says, but you’re already gone. he picks it up, choking on his own spit once he reads your number on the paper. you must’ve wrote it down while mike was blabbering like an idiot.
“abby schmidt?” a nurse calls out. mike shoots up from his spot, making sure to slide the piece of paper in his pocket for safe keeping.
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happy winter time! naruto, dealer's choice. thank you!
a continuation of 1
Sakura is terrified that she’s going to mess this up.
Naruto’s never been mean to her, and has complimented her hair several times, but they’re not really friends. Back when she was friends with Ino, she’d see her at the Yamanaka compound sometimes and they’d play together, but she doubts Naruto remembers that.
Sakura doesn’t think she and Sasuke have ever had an actual conversation. He used to be the center of all their competitive crushes, to his hilarious dismay, but then he got betrothed to Naruto and no one was willing to piss off the hokage’s daughter by flirting with her fiance.
Well, besides Ino, but everyone knows she does it just because Sasuke hates it and Naruto feels duty bound to defend him.
Also because Shikamaru ended up taking Sasuke’s place as Cutest (and Available) Boy and Ino would rather stab herself in the eye than bat her eyelashes at Shikamaru, even if that means there’s a social game she can’t win.
Sakura's on a team with son of the Uchiha clan head and the hokage’s daughter, Rookie of the Year and Top Kunoichi, and their sensei isn’t even some normal jounin, but the Inuzuka clan head.
Tsume-sensei seems dismayed when they pass, although Sakura thinks she should have expected this. Naruto and Sasuke have been working as a team for even longer than they’ve been engaged.
Maybe she’s just surprised that they folded Sakura in with them instead of leaving her behind. Honestly, she’s pretty surprised by that too.
“Does this mean we get a dog?” Naruto asks brightly as Sasuke picks twigs out of her hair. “Mom says I only get one pet and doesn’t believe me that the frog doesn’t count.”
“No,” Tsume-sensei snaps, then, “Maybe, I don’t know. I hadn’t actually expected that I’d have to train you, fuck.”
Sakura can’t see this going well.
~
Naruto walks home with Sasuke, because her mother is working late to avoid her father and her father is working late to avoid the fact that her mother is working late to avoid him.
She wishes they’d just get a divorce. Maybe they will now that she’s legally an adult. Maybe she’ll move out and take herself out of the equation.
She won’t. But she thinks about it a lot.
“Maybe it’s good that it’s Tsume,” she says. “Sakura’s biggest weakness is her conditioning and you know that Tsume will train us into the dirt.”
Sasuke hums. “Maybe we should introduce her to Gai.”
She stares. “Do you hate Sakura?”
“She’s fine,” he says dismissively. “It’s too bad we didn’t get Hinata, but both my father and hers would have thrown a fit and gone to complain to yours. He’s the best at taijutsu, if she joins Team Nine’s morning workouts then she’ll be up to par in no time.”
“If it doesn’t kill her,” Naruto says dryly. “Why don’t we see what Tsume cooks up first, yeah? The first chunin exam is months away. She has time.”
“How do you know Tsume will sign us up for that one?” he asks, although by the glint in his eye he already knows.
Naruto answers anyway. “Tsume is going to take the first opportunity to get rid of us that she can, which would be the chunin exams. She’ll be praying for us to either pass or die.”
He laughs, a breathy sound that wouldn’t qualify coming from anyone else.
They arrive at the Uchiha compound and she stares at it wistfully. After helping uncover the almost betrayal, every Uchiha is nice to her now. The compound is so warm and bright and everyone is happy to see her and there’s always somewhere she can go.
“You can join me,” Sasuke says. “Mom always makes extra.”
Just in case she shows up.
“They’ll be expecting me to be home after the test,” she says, trying not to sigh. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”
Sasuke nods, a pinched look on his face that she pretends not to notice.
When they get married, she hopes they live in the compound.
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Another Love | Part 4
Summary: you've been hopelessly in love with Han since you were children. One night you confess your feelings to him.
Words count: 6,639
Warnings for this chapter: angst(as usual)
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
A/N: I'm sorry it took me a bit longer to write this part, I'm just in a weird place right now. I'm doubting a lot about my skills as a writer and that leads me to believe everything I write sucks so this was a bit harder to write, I hope you all like it though.
Jisung has been dreaming about you lately. Going back to every little memory he has with you, watching all the signs you gave him while he was oblivious to you, to your feelings.
It's been almost a week since Han ended things with Lia. The things she said are still stuck in his head, he can't be in love with you. Not after rejecting you. Not after everything you went through to get over him. Not now, when you're happy with someone else.
Things are going back to the way they were before, except that now your roles are reversed, he's the one hanging on your every word and movement, all the little details about you look fascinating to him. He's never felt this way before.
You're not avoiding him anymore. Things fell into place slowly, you started having dinner together again, talking about your day. Then you got back to making coffee for him in the morning, waking him up with the nice scent so he wouldn't be too grumpy woking up so early.
He has a mission now: to stop these strange thoughts he's having. Even if he is indeed feeling this way about you, he lost his chance. He knows he did. Right now, he wants to focus on being a good friend to you, the same as he was before the confession happened.
Jisung just didn't expect how he would feel seeing you with Jeongho again. You invited all your friends to dinner in a nice restaurant, to officially introduce your boyfriend to everyone.
This must be how you felt seeing him with all his previous partners, you must have felt this ache in your chest, as if someone was holding your heart and squeezing it to their heart's content.
You look pretty, hair tied in a ponytail and a dress he never saw before, maybe it's a gift from your boyfriend, he wouldn't know. He avoids talking about your relationship, too selfish to handle the same pain you did for so many years.
Your friendship is getting back to what it was, even though he screwed up really badly, you were the bigger person and forgave him, so he has no right feeling this way about you.
Jisung knows it would be better for you and for him if you didn't come back to the apartment but he's too greedy, he wants you close to him.
This whole problem began because he was greedy, afterall. He didn't want to stay away from you, then he hurt you again and again trying to fix things. Now he just wants to make things right, he just wants you to be happy.
You're smiling so brightly it actually makes his heart skip a beat. He sips from his drink, trying to calm his heart a bit and watch as the others try to make small talk.
“So how did you meet y/n?” Chan asks Jeongho.
“I had the biggest crush on her in middle school but she mercilessly rejected me”, Jeongho answers, looking at you and smiling playfully.
“I thought he had lost a bet or something”, you defend yourself.
“Why would you think that?” Han asks, surprised and you stare at him for a second before shrugging. Of course Jisung was not the only reason for you to reject Jeongho, you were just learning about your feelings at that time. You just couldn't get your head around why someone older and handsome like Jeongho would want to have anything to do with you.
“Y/N was one of the prettiest girls in our school”, Han comments, not understanding why you would feel like that.
He always thought you were pretty, that's why he always complimented you and gave you clothes saying they would look good on you.
“I think teenagers are just insecure. I guess it's part of growing up”, you sip from your wine glass.
Jisung never thought you were insecure about anything by the way you carried yourself with your head high, always so sure about everything you put your mind into. Maybe there's too much he doesn't know about you.
The rest of the dinner goes well, your friends are being nice and trying to make Jeongho comfortable, you're happy about it. Everything seems to be falling into place with your best friend by your side being his normal self and your boyfriend, the guy you're falling in love with being just perfect. Your heart is finally healing, you're moving on, things are working out. You couldn't wish for anything else, you just want things to stay like this forever.
“Are you happy?” Jisung asks when you're outside the restaurant, Jeongho stepped out to take a call from work and left you and your friends alone. One by one they called it a night, saying their goodbyes and leaving you and Han alone.
You stare at him for a moment before answering.
“Yes, I am”, you're not sure why he wants to know and not even sure why you're thinking so much before answering.
Jisung smiles, a sincere and bright smile.
“I'm glad”, he says, “I want you to be happy”
You are a bit taken aback, you didn't expect him to react this way, he almost sounds like a grown up now.
“Thanks, I-”
“I'm sorry I kept you waiting”, Jeongho's voice cuts you out. He slides his arm over your shoulders pulling you closer.
“I should get going”, Jisung says, turning his gaze away from you and your boyfriend.
“Aren't you going home?” You ask and he shakes his head, he's not sure if he can stay at the same place with you two for much longer. “Oh, are you going to Lia's?”
There's not a bit of discomfort in your face, so he just nods. He's not sure if now is the best moment to tell you about his situation with Lia.
“Okay, see you tomorrow then”, you hesitate, not sure if it's appropriate, but you try not thinking too much, throwing your arms around him, squeezing him into a hug. You would never think twice about hugging him before your confession, there's no need for you to make it awkward now.
You're trying to get things back to the way they were and Jisung notices that, he's grateful. So the only thing he can do is wrap his arms around your waist, hugging you back.
Jisung didn't want to lie, but he's afraid it may be uncomfortable to you if he says he's not with Lia anymore. And he's afraid you'll be able to see right through him, see that he is giving in to the strange feelings he's trying so hard to avoid.
He ends up sleeping on Chan's couch, if he could call that ‘sleeping’. Everytime he closes his eyes, you show up in his mind, smiling, making a joke, just looking at him. Everytime he finally managed to fall asleep, you would be there, together with your boyfriend, giggling and kissing him while Jisung just watched. He would wake up sweating and stare at the ceiling for at least ten minutes before trying to sleep again.
>><<
After pondering what he wanted to do from now on, Jisung decided he should have some closure with Lia. He didn't like the way things ended with her, he really liked her until a certain point and above all, she is a good person. Even though he didn't want to, he ended up hurting her and he should apologize for that.
Awkward. That's the best word to explain the situation that Jisung finds himself in right now. Lia is on the other side of the table, glaring at him like she could kill him with the power of her mind.
“What is it that you want?” She asks, coldly.
He clears his throat, trying to gather some courage.
“I want to apologize”, he says, “I shouldn't have lead you on even though I already knew something was not right”, sighing he looks at her, biting his lower lip, “I'm just… confused, I ended up hurting you in the middle of this mess and I'm really sorry”
Lia looks at his eyes, staring deeply. She can feel his sincerity but she's not sure if only an apology is enough to make up for the pain he caused. She's not crazy, she knows people can't control how they feel most of the time. Maybe if he just admits he likes you, she'll feel at ease.
“So, have you finally accepted that you're in love with y/n?”
Jisung thinks for a bit, trying to put what he is feeling into words.
“I don't know if love is the right word”, he says, fidgeting with his fingers, “but I'm feeling some weird things around her, when she smiles or laughs, or even when she's doing nothing”, he covers his mouth with his hand in a slap, wide eyes, realizing he is talking about being in love with someone else with the girl that likes him.
Lia chuckles.
“It's alright, I'm pretty sure that's the definition of love though”, she sighs looking at Jisung. “Maybe you never felt that before”
It's not easy for her to be kind and comprehensive at the moment, but it's not like being mean is going to make him like her back. She's not actually even sure if she wants that anymore. Maybe her heart just accepted things ended, maybe she was already preparing herself for this since Han started acting differently, but the pain is not as great as she thought it would be. Maybe seeing him naively admitting his feelings made her have some sympathy for the mess he made of his relationship with you, maybe she didn't like him as much as she thought.
Since the beginning, there were too many maybes in this relationship. Lia knows she deserves better, she deserves someone who's sure about her, no maybes.
“I think I can forgive you, yeah”, she chuckles seeing Jisungs shocked face, “not now, obviously”, with a sigh, she looks deeply into his eyes, “you were always great to me before things started going wrong and I know you're not a bad person”, she stands up, “I'm actually feeling bad for you, with the mess you created I have no idea how you're going to fix it, but I'll cheer for you”, she puts her hand in his shoulder, squeezing it in reassurance. Lia leaves Jisung there, stuck in his head once more. At least that is something they both have in common, because he sure doesn't know how he's going to keep these strange feelings under control while fixing his relationship with you.
>><<
If Jisung had to rate his acting skills, he would be proud to say he deserves an award. He's succeeding at pretending not to be in love with you while maintaining a healthy friendship.
It's almost the same as it was before, except Jisung has to watch his every move. He's trying to act normal while trying to crush the onslaught of feelings in his chest everytime you laugh at one of his jokes, or when you just talk about your very normal day.
You both do your things during the day, have dinner together and talk or watch something before sleeping, that's your routine when Jeongho is not visiting.
You've been watching your phone lately, more than usual, is there something wrong? He's sure you're just waiting for Jeongho's call. Jisung has lost count of how many nights he spent listening to your laughs on the phone with your boyfriend, wishing it was him making you happy like that.
It's true, he's struggling. He's not sure how you managed to like him for so long without freaking out, because he's about to collapse and it's been just about a month since he came to terms with his feelings.
He feels bad just thinking about how much you must have suffered because of him, before and after your confession. Guilt is eating him alive, along with heartbreak.
He's been watching you for a while now, you are washing the dishes while talking about these kids you tutor and how smart they are, he's staring at you with heart eyes—you're not seeing—while he dries the dishes.
“I'm sure they can only learn so fast because it's you teaching them”, Jisung says.
You giggle to his compliment, bumping a shoulder into his.
“Should we watch a movie before going to bed?” You ask, drying your hands on your apron.
“I'm actually kinda sleepy”, Jisung laughs, he can only keep his feeling bottled for so long, he doesn't want to get careless and blurt out everything. He knows that if he gets too comfortable he'll feel at ease and you were always too good at making him tell you what's on his mind.
“Let's do it another time then”, you shrug, taking your phone out of your pocket and smiling when the screen brightens with Jeongho's name.
Han feels his chest tighten, he wants to throw up, he wants to cry, he wants to plead for you to not like someone else. But he can't do any of those things, not when you're so happy. So he won't be selfish, he'll think about you first and keep his distance.
>><<
It's been almost a month since the last time you saw Jeongho. He was not able to come by on the usual weekends because the company he works for is opening a new branch somewhere and he is involved in the project.
He's been busy, texting less and not even calling, so you start getting insecure. What if he's getting cold feet about your relationship? Maybe he met someone more interesting who's near him.
No. Jeongho wouldn't be like that. He would break up if he didn't like you anymore, you know him enough to know that.
When he calls saying he's coming to see you, you feel excited once again. You knew you were mistaken, it's not right to presume the worst just because he's a bit more busy. It must be nothing.
You just can't shake the feeling that you were going through the calm before the storm and now the bad weather is finally coming.
He's waiting for you at the restaurant of the hotel he's staying in, Jeongho is fidgeting with his fingers nervously, looking around until his eyes land on you. You smile at him, waving at him but he doesn't smile back.
“Hey”, you say, dropping your bag on the chair and sitting, “is there something wrong?”
“I received a promotion”, he says suddenly, he doesn't look happy about it.
“That's great”, you smile, taking his hand into yours to hold it, not really understanding his reaction.
He stares at your hands together, taking a deep breath before speaking again.
“Actually, the company wants me to go to Europe”, Jeongho says, fidgeting with his hands.
“Oh”, you frown, “for how long?”
“They are not sure about the exact period, but-”, he clears his throat, looking around, “they are projecting it to be between five and eight years”, he replies, feeling his breathing quickening.
“They want you to move there?” You repeat it to yourself, trying to absorb the information.
“They are trying to make an entry in the European market, so a team is needed there to develop the new branch”
“Okay, yeah”, you feel dizzy, “we can work with that, hm, I can- we can visit each other”, you nod, trying to organize your thoughts.
“Y/N-”, Jeongho starts, his voice fails and he stops for a moment before continuing. “Long distance works right now because we are a 2 hour flight away from each other, not 12 hours”
“What are you saying?” You feel all the air in your lungs escape, knowing exactly what he means but choosing not to believe it.
“I don't think we can keep doing this, I'm not sure our relationship is going to survive and-”, he sighs, running his hand through his hair, “I won't ask you to come with me”
“Why not? Why won't you ask me?” You plead, feeling tears brimming in your eyes. It's not logical what you're asking of him, but you don't want to hurt anymore, not again.
“How could I? I can't make you leave your whole life here, your family, your friends or college to go to a country where you know no one but me”, he explains, “I’ll be in charge of a large project, I'll have to stay late probably everyday and you're going to stay alone, how could I do that to you?”
“Don't you think that's for me to decide?” You ask, feeling your hands shaking. You put them in between your legs, trying not to show him the sight of your broken heart.
“I can't- I can't carry that guilt with me”, he says, “not knowing how happy you are here, if you go with me and things end up not working out I could never forgive myself”
“What if things work out? What if we are happy together forever? Did you consider it for a moment?” You ask, he's not looking at you. Jeongho is trying to hold his own tears, trying to be strong for you, “I guess this relationship is not worth you considering it”, you stand up, grabbing your bag.
He lifts his eyes to look at him, finding your quivering lips and the tears flooding from your eyes.
“Well, good luck then”, you tell him, turning around and walking out.
After walking far enough from the hotel, you let yourself crouch on the floor, scaring the people walking by. You are sobbing, trying to wipe the tears from your eyes, but they keep coming continuously.
You stand up again, walking, what are you supposed to do now? When are things going to finally get better for you? Since you confessed to Jisung things got worse over and over, you should have never told him about your feelings, maybe your life would have stayed the same.
The hurt you felt seeing him with other people was a pain you were already used to, but this? This is excruciating, it's the same all over again, the same as when Jisung rejected you. Will you ever feel complete again?
It's 3 a.m, Jisung went to the studio to work for a bit and to try to forget about everything else. His phone buzzes in his pocket, when he looks at the screen, your name is there. He doesn't think twice about answering, just to find your drunk voice on the other side of the call. He can't understand a thing you're saying just that you'll share your location with him.
He grabs the keys to his car, running to the parking lot, he drives for about thirty minutes until arriving where you are. The bar is empty, there are only employees cleaning and you're laying on the counter, unconscious.
“It's been a while since we closed, but we let her stay inside since it looks like she went through something”, the bartender tells Han when he gets closer.
“Thank you”, Jisung says, before trying to wake you up with no success. He sighs, looking around and thinking about what to do.
He slides one of your arms around his neck, putting one of his hands behind your back for support and the other underneath your knees, lifting you up.
Your face is puffy, he can see it now that he's looking so closely, you probably cried a lot but what would make you cry like that?
Jisung glances at you a few times during the ride home. You groan, whining something in your sleep, even crying a bit. That makes him even more worried.
He repeats the process of picking you up when he parks in front of your apartment, carrying you inside. You whimper all the way to the apartment, he knows you can wake up at any moment.
Han sits you on your bed, taking your coat off and helping you lay down, covering you with a blanket after taking off your shoes. Your makeup is all smeared, so he picks a wet tissue and starts rubbing your face, trying to take off everything he can.
You open your eyes slowly, seeing Jisung with a focused expression while whipping your face.
“What are you doing?” You ask, making him jump. He was so concentrated he didn't even see you waking up.
“I was trying to take your makeup off”, he says, “it's not good for you to sleep with it on your face”
“How did I come home?” You look around, stumbling a bit over your words.
“You don't remember calling me?” He asks and you shake your head. “I went to the bar to pick you up”
Jisung is still whipping your face while he talks, that's when you remember why you were in the bar in the first place and tears run out of your eyes again.
“What happened? Why are you crying like this?” He asks worriedly, helping you sit on the bed.
“I don't- everything goes wrong for me”, you say, sobbing. “Maybe I'm the problem”
Jisung sighs, pulling you into a hug and holding you tightly, feeling your tears soak his shirt. He's worried and doesn't know what to do, should he call Hannah? Or Jeongho? Jisung knows you went to meet with him earlier… wait, did that guy do this to you?
After you stop sobbing for a while, Jisung realizes you fell asleep in his embrace. He lies you on the bed, covering you with the blanket once more. He leaves a glass of water and some hangover medicine on your nightstand so you can take in the morning and prepares his bed on the floor.
You wake up to the bright sunlight coming from the window, your head hurts like crazy and you're so thirsty it seems like a thousand years since you last drank something.
You take the hangover medicine and the water, while sitting down, still a bit dizzy. When your feet touch the floor, it's not the hard ground they meet but something soft. Why is Jisung sleeping by your bedside?
He doesn't look a bit comfortable, although he seems fast asleep. You start poking him, trying to make him wake up, causing your friend to jump and hold your arm.
“Are you alright?” He asks, eyes widened.
You frown at the sight, it's been a while since you last saw Jisung this startled.
“Yeah”, you answer and he can finally let out the breath he didn't even notice was being held. “Why are you sleeping on the floor?”
He looks around for a bit as if he didn't understand why you were asking such a thing.
“Oh, I- hm- I was afraid you would need something so I stayed here just in case”, he tells you and you nod.
It's not an uncommon occurrence for you two to do this kind of thing, even when you were living with your parents. When one of you got sick, it was a tradition to stay by each other's side until the other felt better.
When you moved in with him, naturally, your drinking habits grew since you didn't have to worry about your parents anymore. Jisung was responsible for taking care of you when you came home wasted after partying with Hannah or even when you drunk with him and the boys, he made sure to stay sober enough to still be able to take you home and help you get to your room safely.
“Oh”, you answer, “thank you”
He kept staring at you, waiting for something you're not sure what is.
“Do you want to talk about the reason you got wasted last night?” He asks, awkwardly and the pain comes back all at once.
It was so nice, the period of numbness after waking up from a deep sleep, you wish you could keep feeling that way. Now, your hands are trembling again, just like last night, tears are brimming in your eyes and your lips are quivering. It's obvious to Jisung, you're trying not to cry.
He gets up, collecting the things he used to sleep, without looking at you, he doesn't want to make you any more uncomfortable.
“We don't have to talk about it”, he says, putting the blanket and pillow back in your wardrobe. “Do you want me to call Hannah?” He asks and you stare at him for a moment, nodding to his question, not really wanting to look at your phone.
You're scared Jeongho contacted you, you don't want to see him. But more than anything, you're scared he didn't try talking to you at all, because that means everything is really over.
It's pathetic, you know that break ups happen. But Jeongho was the first guy to ever make you feel the closest to what you ever felt for Jisung, no other could do that and you're scared no one ever will.
Hannah gets to your place about an hour after Jisung called her. She's huffing, hair messed up and puffy face.
“Were you sleeping?” You ask her and she takes a deep breath, seeing that you're okay.
“I'm going to kill that guy”, she yells out of the door to your room, “he made it seems like you were dying or something”
“If I was dying I'm pretty sure he would have taken me to the hospital”, you point out.
Hannah rolls her eyes, dropping her bag on the floor. Closing the door, she walks slowly to sit on your bed, she can clearly see that you cried a lot.
“So, did something happen?” She asks, you avoid her gaze, looking at anything but her face. You find your fingers much more interesting than any part of this conversation, actually. So you pay attention to them, playing on your lap.
“It's nothing”, you answer.
Hannah sighs, if you don't want to talk about it, it means it's bad.
“We don't have to talk about it right now”, she stretches her hand, taking yours and squeezing it. “But you will have to talk about it eventually”
It's your time to sigh now, she's right, you know that, but talking about it makes it real and you don't want it to be real.
“Jeongho broke up with me”, you rip the bandaid all at once.
Hannah gasps, she's speechless. How can this be? She thought he was head over heels for you, so why?
“His company is sending him to Europe and he doesn't want to do long distance”, you feel the tears brimming into your eyes again, voice cracking, “or take me with him”
It's the first time in her life Hannah doesn't know what to say. Your love life is such a mess, worse than hers, so she doesn't have any advice or any comfort to give you.
“Honey, I…”, she tries, but what is she supposed to say? ‘I am sorry?’, that's not it, ‘he is an asshole?’ nothing of the sort.
Looking from outside the situation, Jeongho is being logical, they still are in their honeymoon phase of the relationship, everything is perfect at that time. For most people, problems start to arise after some time. However, when you're in love, you don't want logical outputs, you want what your heart wants.
Hannah is saved by a knock on the door. Han's head pops inside the room and he observes for a moment trying to assess the situation.
“I bought some things you like”, he says, “I'll be going out, so you have the apartment all to yourselves”
He wants you to feel comfortable right now, he doesn't know exactly what happened but you're sad. Jisung knows just letting you enjoy your afternoon with Hannah in the apartment is not going to make things better for whatever is making you feel so down, but he knows you are going to feel livelier after some time with Hannah.
He goes out with Hyunjin, who's buying a present for his mother. It's hot, so if his friend didn't ask very nicely he wouldn't have accepted to go to the mall, since they have to wear hoods and masks. The fact that you're home, crying your eyes out for something he has no clue about, made him want to go out too. It hurts seeing you sad and it's even worse because he can't do anything about it, not when he doesn't know what's happening.
They are looking at bags, maybe he should get you something? You are not really a materialistic person, he's not sure if giving you an expensive present is going to help at all, maybe he should get you that webtoon print you've been talking about, they should definitely have it in the bookstore next door.
When Jisung turns around to tell Hyunjin they should stop at the bookstore, he sees Jeongho. He's looking at bags too, trying to figure out which one he should choose.
Is he giving you a gift too? Maybe he did something and you fought, that's why you were crying so much. Even remembering the way you cried as soon as you woke up makes his heart ache.
Jisung walks to Jeongho, not sure how to initiate a conversation but he feels like he should try and help in some way.
“Hey”, he says, watching Jeongho turn around and look at him.
“Jisung, how are you doing?” He asks, arms crossed in front of chest.
“Fine, are you choosing a gift for y/n?” He asks, awkwardly, “I don't think she likes purple”, he points out observing the bags Jeongho was looking at.
“It's actually for my mother”, he clears his throat, frowning, “didn't y/n tell you?”
“Tell me what?” Jisung asks, confused and Jeongho nods.
“So she didn't”, he sighs, “we broke up”, he struggles to say it.
Jisung's eyes dart directly to Jeongho's face, now he can see the eyebags on his face and how tired he looks.
“Why?” Jisung panics, you shouldn't have to go through another heartbreak.
“I don't think it's something you should know about, if she didn't tell you”, Jeongho shrugs.
“Well, can't you fix it? Whatever it is that is wrong?” He asks, carefully.
Jeongho sighs, he wishes there was something he could do about it, but he's a coward who's too afraid of taking such a big step in the beginning of a relationship.
“I’m afraid I can't”, he says, “take care of her”
Jisung is speechless, he has no idea what to do, so he just watches as Jeongho chooses a gift and walks tiredly out of the store.
Jisung arrives after killing some time outside, he was out for almost the entire day and hopes that you could enjoy a bit of your day with Hannah. He doesn't know if he should bring up his encounter with Jeongho or if he should talk about what your, now ex, boyfriend told him.
He shouldn't mention it, if you didn't tell him about it, it's because you're not ready for you to know and he gets that. Han is not sure about what he's feeling. It hurts his heart to see you in so much pain but he doesn't want to overstep the boundaries you're setting.
So when he enters the house, he sees you and Hannah watching a movie, he greets you both and goes to his room. You clearly cried more since he left and he won't be able to stay in your presence without trying to comfort you.
>><<
Things are difficult for you at the moment. Even though your love for Jeongho never got to its full potential, it's still love. You're mourning what you could have had with him had things been different, you wake up in the middle of the night and can't sleep anymore, feeling your chest hurting and remembering it's over.
It all sank in when he didn't contact you anymore, you're sure he's hurting too but you had hoped that you two could find a solution around this cruel puzzle.
“Should we go out?” Hannah asks while you're watching a drama, burying your sorrows in ice cream.
“I'm not really in the mood”, you say. You haven't cried for some time now, you're too tired, maybe your tears finally dried up.
“I know you don't feel like it”, Hannah sighs, looking at your apathetic face, worriedly, “but I think you should have some fresh air, you have been stuck in this apartment for a week now, it's not healthy”
You sigh, she's right, you know she is, but you can't really find the strength to doll up and go out.
“We don't have to go to a party or anything crowded”, she says, seeing the resigned look on your face. “We can just go to a cafe or something, anything”, she pleads.
You nod, sighing in defeat, maybe a walk can really lift your mood a bit.
Hannah jumps out of the sofa, taking the ice cream from your hands. She talks excitedly about what kind of things you two can do but can't really follow what she's saying, your head is still numb.
You walk around for a bit, looking at clothes in the stores nearby, doing just about anything to think of anything but your break up.
It's already night when you two decide to eat something, there's this restaurant that's kinda hidden so there's not many people eating when you arrive. It's not the first time you eat there, it's a nice and cozy place so you come by when you're needing a little bit of peace.
“Y/N?” You hear a familiar voice calling you, making you turn around to find Lia. She's smiling, there's a man accompanying her. “It's been a while”, she says after telling the man to look for a place for them to sit.
“Hey, yeah it does”, you smile politely. Lia can see the huge eyebags you have and the wide eyes your friend has looking at her.
“Are you alright?” She asks, noticing you barely touched your food.
“Yeah”, you lie, “what about you?” You ask, eyeing the guy who's now looking at his phone while waiting for Lia.
“I'm okay”, she smiles shyly, “it's not easy, you know? But I'm trying to move on, meet new people”
You frown, not really understanding what she's talking about.
“I hope we can still be on friendly terms even though Jisung and I are over”, Lia says, regrets immediately when she sees your eyes widen. He didn't tell you. Shit.
“I didn't know you guys were not together anymore”, Hannah is the one to talk, stealing Lia's attention from your shocked face.
“Yeah, hm, it's been a while actually. I thought he would have already told you everything by now”, she says apologetically. “Well, Han Jisung, let's say that now we are even”, she thinks.
“I should probably go!” Lia points out to the man who's staring impatiently. She waves goodbye to you and walks towards him, afraid she'll tell you something more she's not supposed to.
You find yourself in the dark, seated at the sofa, arms crossed in front of your chest. You can't believe you had to hear from someone other than Jisung about his relationship status. You're mad at him, you were making an effort so things could go back to the way they were so why isn't he acting like he wants that too?
Before, he would tell you everything about his romantic endeavors and even though it hurted, you felt special, knowing every little thing about him. Now, you feel like you know nothing, he's spending less time with you and every time you try doing anything just the two of you, he avoids it like you would jump his bones or something if you stay alone with him for more than two hours.
You may have not gotten over him completely, but you're fine now and for years you could behave yourself, so you're not sure why he's acting like that.
You hear the door being open, Han’s voice comes out in a discussion, he's on the phone. He walks in, putting his phone in his pocket while trying to find his way in the dark. He jumps at the sight of you on the sofa, staring at him with a scowl.
“Jesus christ, y/n”, he says, putting his hand above his heart, “what the hell are you doing there in the dark?”
He turns on the light, turning back at you. You're still staring at him in silence.
“Why didn't you tell me you and Lia are not together anymore?” You stand up, waiting for his answer.
“W-what?” His standing falters and he takes a step back. “How did you know?”
“Clearly I didn't find out from my best friend”, you scoff. “Did you think I would try making a move on you if you are single?”
Jisung frowns, how the hell did you get to that conclusion?
“No, I-”
“I'm sure you already figured Jeongho and I broke up”, you point out, “but you rejected me, I'm over that already”
“I can see why you would think that”, Jisung says carefully, “considering the way I acted when you confessed, but it's not that, I can assure you”
“I'm trying to have a normal relationship with you, you know, but you're just not the same. You don't spend time with me anymore, you don't talk to me about what's on your mind, the only thing I can think is that you're scared of me”
“I'm sorry I made you feel that way, I'm trying to act normally too, it's just-” Jisung cuts himself off, not sure what to say. At the same time he doesn't know what to say to make you stop thinking like that, he's not sure things will get any better if he tells you the truth.
“What's it? Just tell me so I can fix it, please I-”
“I'm in love with you”, he blurts out, hand instantly going to his chest and clenching the place above his heart. “I'm so in love with you it hurts”
You stumble back, almost falling. Did you hear it right?
“I don't think I understand”, you say, frowning, trying to make sense of his words.
“I feel terrible, I rejected you and made you suffer just for me to feel like this now?” He scoffs, “I'm sorry I made you think you are the problem again, but you're not, I am. I'm the one who can't stay close to you because I'm afraid I'll do something that will ruin our friendship”
You get up, trying to function properly after this sudden confession. Never, in your wildest dreams did you think there would come a day when Jisung would actually love you in the way you most desperately once wanted. You fantasized about it for years but you never really thought it would happen for real.
“I can't do this right now”, you say to him, seeing his shoulders slump. The sad look in your face is what he most feared. Jisung didn't expect you to still like him, but it would be a lie to say he didn't have any hope of you telling him he still has a chance.
“I don't expect you to like me back”, he says, voice cracking a bit when he tries to say the words he least want to, “I just don't want you to think I'm avoiding you because of you, it's because of me”
You nod slowly, still not fully recovered from the shock. You walk past him, not saying anything anymore, just entering your room and closing the door silently. This was definitely unexpected.
A/N: If you like what I write please reblog or let me know in the comments, feedback give me motivation to keep writing. Also, you can buy me a coffee.
Taglist(closed):
@hhwangsmoon @weareapackofstrays @shycreationdreamland @adestayskz @skizmee @ca11me3mily @realviviboss @sofix-hc7 @starsandrqindrops @its-hannjisung @redstayrosie @mae-is-cute98 @blithevix @astro-doll-the-star @vlctorriaa @captainchrisstan @rag-iii @notastraykid @jisunghannie @applepie-macaroon @stayingdelulu @sundayysunshine @kidrauhlschik @wolfennracha @meloncremesoda @hanschimpmunk @realrintaro @teejisung @maexc @gyustarzzi @ivaneedssleep @chaeryred @daemon-bunny @broken-glowsticks @ch4nniebang @sleepyleeji @seukijeuxq @luvbangchan @lovesunshinefelix @hyunjins-dimples @castielsfrillywhiteknickers @armystay89 @literallyjustwanttoread @jisunghannie @jungkookies1002 @diorggukie @channieandhisgoonsquad @mamabymychem @ladylexis @bmnyy
#han jisung x reader#jisung x y/n#jisung x you#han jisung angst#jisung x reader#han jisung x you#stray kids#han jisung scenarios#han jisung x y/n#stray kids han#han jisung imagines#skz han#stray kids han jisung#skz han jisung#skz#skz imagines#skz x reader#skz x y/n#skz x you#stray kids x y/n#stray kids x you#stray kids x reader#stray kids imagines#stray kids scenarios#skz angst#stray kids masterlist#skz masterlist#skz scenarios#skz imagine
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anything bombshell reader I would adore!!!
Oh my god, Spencer thinks desperately, could she give me a break?
You waltz into the conference room wearing a smile (your smile, as heartbreakingly perfect as always) and a motorcycle jacket buttoned to the chin. There's something about it. Spencer doesn't know what it is, just that it makes you even more attractive than usual. He toys with the word sexy, and sure, you are when you want to be, but he thinks about it long and hard. You're a fucking bombshell, and you're going to kill him one day.
“What's with the outfit?” Morgan asks immediately.
“You can't wear that to the precinct,” Hotch says, though he sounds curious rather than annoyed.
“You called us in unexpectedly,” you defend, holding up two perfect hands. Calluses from shooting practice line the palm of your dominant hand and you've a cut down the side of the other, and they're still perfect. Everything about you compliments everything else. “I was out.”
“What, on your motorcycle?” JJ asks.
“Your motorcycle?” Emily asks.
“I didn't know you had a motorcycle,” Garcia says.
“You're ganging up on me. Spencer, honey, would you save me?” you ask, though the tone you use doesn't express much urgency as you unzip your thick jacket and toss it aside, its logos and sponsorships crumpling over the back of your chair. “You're the only one who looks pleased to see me.”
“I am pleased to see you,” he says honestly.
You don't make it to cases every time; you're on a different type of leasing, you always say. He doesn't have the subtlety to pretend he isn't happy you're here. You flirt with him, sure, and he enjoys it even while being out of his depths, but he likes you. You're fun and smart and good to be around. You listen.
“They couldn't keep me away from you if they tried,” you say, head dipped gently to one side, smile far from teasing..
“Since when do you ride a motorcycle?” Emily asks.
“If we could get back to the case at hand,” Hotch says, and for a moment everyone looks rightly chastised, until he adds, “we can discuss Y/N's choices afterwards.”
What's worse than your jacket is the quickness of your brain, the connections you make, your endless suggestions. You're so good at your job it makes Spencer feel funny. Rossi, who'd been mostly silent during the exchange, sends Spencer a pitying look.
When the case has been introduced and everyone sent to make preparations for another trip, you and Spencer remain in the conference room. You, because your go bag is already here and you don't have much to do, and Spencer, because you're here.
“Do you really have a motorcycle?”
You tap your nose. “Need to know, babe.”
“I sort of do need to know. If you have a motorcycle, I should probably be spending more time worrying about you.”
“Well, it's not mine.”
He feels a crushing wave of rejection descend on him. “Right,” he says. He knew this would happen. He knew you were just being nice—
“I'm borrowing it from a friend. Mostly to see if I still knew how.” You put your chin in your hand, smiling knowingly. “Who's did you think it was, Dr. Reid?”
“Don't do that,” he says.
“Or what?” You ease up anyhow. “If you don't like being flirted with, Spence, I won't do it.”
“I didn't say that, just don't– don't look at me like that.”
You sigh morosely, but your dramatics are unconvincing, and a smile plays on your painted lips. “Alright, I won't. But it's how you were looking at me, you realise? How's that fair?”
Spencer is about to say you know how, but do you really? Why is it fair for him to ogle you (albeit without meaning to) when you walk in, but when you make your soft googly eyes at him, he tells you to stop? Maybe because his are real, and yours are… questionable in authenticity.
You're smart enough to see that debate before it forms. “I have less choice over it all than you think, you know?” you ask, softer than before.
“I know,” he says. He doesn't, obviously, because the idea that you flirt with him accidentally is hard to accept, because who is Spencer to you? Your nerdy, socially clueless coworker who very clearly has a crush on you. Why would you like that? So he doesn't know about that, but he knows about having little choice in the manner; he sees you and he trips over himself trying to get you to see him.
“I say it every time, but I've missed you, handsome. How have you been?” you ask.
Spencer forgets the depth of his crush in the face of a friend. “I'm good, I've been reading all this Russian existentialist literature–”
“Yeah? Anything good?”
Spencer beams. “Actually, yeah. There's this one writer, you've probably read him already, Dostoevsky…”
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader
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Three for One 2
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: As a customer service associate, you’re used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what’s on the shelf.
Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale
Note: The ho-lidays are the daddies and the baddies.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)
Love you all. Take care. 💖
You bob around to the tinkling of carols as they waft over the store. Unlike your coworkers, you enjoy the repetitive tunes. They are so fun and bright and help the time pass between customers and stocking. Not that there isn't more than enough to keep you busy.
In the rare moment where you aren't distracted, you let yourself browse the colourful lipsticks and shining perfume bottles all around. You don't have anyone to shop for, not even yourself. You have your dollar store glosses and discount nail polishes. You don't see the need to spend too much on those things. Or maybe you just prefer what you know. Simple and cheap.
Around lunchtime, traffic really picks up. Several customers ignore your approach and brush by you before you can entice them into buying some Chanel. You've already hit your sales targets but you never really think of numbers.
A woman stops you and asks for a very specific palette. You know just the one. You think it's cute, it looks like a cupcake, and while you adore the aesthetic, it isn't worth the price tag. It's just powder!
You show her where it is and Luanne comes over to take the reins. She's the makeup genius, her flawless contour is proof enough. You turn to float back to your zone and see a man watching you. You recognise him! Vaguely. You see a lot of people in a day.
"Good afternoon," you sing as you near him, "anything I can help you with?"
His throat bobs as he cheek ticks, "uh, yeah, er..." he pushes back his gray jacket, tucking his hands in his pants pockets, "you remember me?"
You smile as you try not to show your cluelessness, "I think..."
"I came in last week," he says.
You think, scrunching up your face as you tap your chin, "yes! You bought Liz Taylor for you mother."
"Mother-in-law," he corrects you, not unkindly.
"Yes, that's it," you jab your finger upwards, "you complimented my sweater."
"Yeah, that was me," He finally smiles, "anyway, I was thinking of getting a gift for my wife. Just a little stocking stuffer."
"Oh, that sounds so cute," you nearly squee. You get so excited to help people shop for a loved one. At the same time, you feel that void. Maybe one day you'll have a husband thinking of you. "We have some great gift sets, actually. They come with different scents so you're wife can figure out which one she likes best." You direct him over to a shelf, "oh, and if she has a favourite, you can get her a full bottle for Valentine's!"
He gives you a look. His eyes narrow just a bit and his cheeks round, "that's a good idea."
He glances over the shelf and you wait patiently. He turns back to you, his eyes flitting over your name tag as he reads it out, "do you have a suggestion?"
"Me?" You perk up, "well, I actually like the Coach. It's not too expensive and it's nice and subtle."
"Is that what you wear?" He asks.
"I don't... I use some cherry blossom body spray but I usually smell like the whole store by the end of the day," you shrug.
"Cherry blossom," he nods, "oh, by the way, I'm Andy."
He offers his hand in an overly formal way. You giggle but take it nonetheless. You don't really get that often.
"Sorry," he squeezes your hand firmly before letting go, "lawyer, habit."
"No, it's fine," you assure him, "I'm just a perfume salesman, is all."
"Well, you're really good at your job," he praises.
"How do you know?" You say.
"You're friendly and helpful. I have no complaints," he reaches past you and claims the Coach pack, "she's going to love this. I owe you."
"No problem. Do you need me to ring you up?"
"Actually," he sighs, "she has this idea. Christmas card. I'm supposed to find a sweater. So, I need to look around some more."
"Oh, that's so cool. A Christmas card? The sweaters are just over in the men's, right near the east entrance," you point, "they have some really cute Charlie Brown ones."
"Charlie Brown," he repeats.
"Anyway, I'll let you go," you clutch your hands together, "I hope your wife likes the perfume."
"I'm sure she will," he agrees, hesitantly clapping the kit between his hands, "uh, thanks. Again." He leans back on his heel, "oh and, that's a really nice colour on you."
"Uh," you look down at your gem green blouse, "thank you, sir."
"Andy," he insists, walking backwards, "again, you're a life saver."
You grin proudly and he spins on his heel, nearly knocking into Luanne as she comes over. He apologises as he side steps her and continues on. She gives you a strange look.
"Geez," she grumbles, "people. This time of year makes everyone so crazy."
"Well, he was nice," you say.
"Kinda cute, too," she intones.
"He was shopping for his wife."
"Lucky lady," she scoffs, "so, you wanna go on lunch first? I'm dying for a latte."
"You can go, I don't mind," you say, "I'm not very hungry."
"Deal," she winks, "I'll get you a hot chocolate for your trouble."
"You don't have to do that."
"I don't have to, I want to, sweetie," she preens.
"Fine, fine, I accept your coerced hot chocolate.”
🎀
Another day close to complete. It's like checking off items on a list. Each evening seems to darken sooner than the last, every morning rising too soon.
You yawn at the empty fragrance section as it’s only you left for the last hour. There isn't much to do except balance the till. Your headset keeps you entertained as electronics calls out possible shrink and home goods argue about their numbers.
“We need a body at returns,” Lucille cuts through the chatter. “Now.”
No answer comes and you slowly slide your hand up the wire. Before you can hit the button, your name is snarled from the other end. You're ordered up to cash to assist with the hordes.
You leave the ghost town that is beauty and as good as skip up to the front. You calm your step as you see Lucille sneering at you from behind a machine. You give a tiny smile and claim the extra screen behind returns.
“I can help the next person,” you call and wave your hand in the air.
You stand back and wait for your first customer. A man comes up and throws a torn open package on the counter, the item bouncing out of the plastic. You flinch and barely catch it before it can slide off the other edge.
“Hello, sir,” you bat your lashes, “how are you today?”
“Not fucking well,” the man snarls. His mustache tickles your memory; do you know him? “It’s a piece of shit.”
“Oh, okay,” you look down at the trimmer and examine it, “you’d like to do a return?”
“Yes, I’d like to do a return,” he snaps, “are you dim?”
“Of course, sir,” you punch in your ID and passcode, “I’ll just get you going. Do you have your receipt?”
“A receipt? I bought the damn thing here, look it up.”
“Ah, alright, when did you buy it?”
“You don’t remember, little trigger finger,” he sneers.
“What do you mean?”
“Pfft, right, you think spraying people with skunk spray is fun?”
“Um, no?” Your cheeks tremor as you withhold a frown; you think you know him now as you’re hit by a sudden wave of Gucci cologne, the scent of a memory. “Did you have the card you purchased this with?”
“You don’t think I have money?”
Everything he says is aggressive. Your questions bounce off him like accusations. You don’t know what to say that won’t agitate him further, He huffs and kicks a foot out, leaning on his back heel as he reaches in his back pocket.
He flicks a black card onto the counter, “put it back on this.”
You nod and take the card, examining the nameless front. You turn it over and swipe it in the machine instead to search the number. He scoffs, “bet you never seen one of those up close.”
“Sir,” you smile bigger, letting the insult ping off of you. All the money in the world and he has no manners.
You find the purchase with the same sku and put his card back on the counter. He snatches it up as you start the return. You scan the barcode and continue on to the next screen, “what’s your name, sir?”
“Lloyd,” he answers curtly. You type, waiting, then look up at him, “Hansen.” He finishes sharply, “with an E, got it?”
“Yes, sir, and the reason for return?”
He rolls his eyes, “it doesn’t fucking work.”
“Alright. So it doesn’t cut the hair or–”
“It won’t turn on,” he growls.
“Right,” you take the trimmer and turn it over. It looks fine enough, even after he threw it. You slip the door of the battery compartment off. It’s empty, “and you had double As in it?”
“Double As?” He repeats.
“It needs batteries, sir.”
He pauses, eyes flaring, nostrils flaring.
“You think I’m stupid? That I don’t fucking know that? You’re not getting free fucking batteries from me.”
“Of course, sir, of course,” you rarely feel this addled, even this time of year, “I’ll get you your money back on a gift card–”
“Gift card? I want my money,” he holds up his card between two fingers.
“Yes, sir, I understand. As per our return policy, personal care items, once opened, are only eligible for a store credit return. Or you can exchange for another item. Would you like to look at our other trimmers? I can put this aside while–”
“What? How would I know that?” He hisses.
“It says on the receipt, sir.”
“I don’t have the goddamn receipt,” he barks.
“I know, sir, sorry. I can only refund this amount on a gift card. I can’t override the option.”
“I want a manager. NOW!” He demands as you jump in your shoes.
“I… I’ll see if she’s avail–”
Lucille has you jumping even more as she appears beside you, no doubt drawn by the raging man in front of you. She elbows you out of the way, not even acknowledging you as she puts on her mask. She leans on the counter just slightly.
“Sir, is there something I can help with? I’m the manager,” she says.
“I want my money,” he echoes once more. “I bought a defective product and I don’t want store credit. I drove out here twice for this bullshit.”
“Oh, certainly sir,” she brushes you with her hip, further edging you out, “right back on that black card, right?”
She scans her keycard, overriding the safeguard, and proceeds to the refund screen.
“Yes, exactly,” he snorts, “not like I don’t have even more money to spend here. Even if the customer service is lacking.”
You back away, unsure what to do. Do you just stand there for the transaction or do you go back to your department? You twiddle your fingers and bob on your heels.
Your eyes meet that man’s and he smirks smugly, wiggly his credit card at you. It’s fine, you won’t let him ruin your day. He’s already ruined his own getting so worked up.
🎀
It’s another busy shift. Your hot chocolate has gone cold from your neglect and you long to sneak away and shove it in the break room microwave. You can’t mourn the lukewarm drink as the line before you stretches on. You’re only a week from Christmas.
You finish wrapping the Prada bottle and hand it over the iron-haired woman with her cute curls. You wish her a good day as she waddles off. The next customer comes up, slamming down a cup so hard, the foam of the drink spits through the slot in the lid.
“Hello, sir,” you croon, “how are you today?”
“Here for a pickup,” he ignores your question.
“Right, can I get a name?”
“Why?” He challenges.
“For… for the package,” you sputter.
“Oh, uh, Drysdale,” he sniffs.
“I saw that earlier. I’m the one who called,” you brighten up.
“So you’re the annoying songbird,” he grabs his drink again, “took you fucking long enough. Line’s a mile long.”
“It’s very busy, yes. Everyone’s catching up on their Christmas shopping,” you bounce, “are you almost done yours?”
“Yeah, I bought myself cologne. So, chop chop, sweetheart.”
You nod and quickly spin. People get so impatient. You go into the small back room housed behind the shelves of lockup and you search the shelves. Drysdale. You pluck up the box and hurry back out.
“Right here,” you announce, “I have good news, too.”
“Tell me you’re gonna stop yammering,” he snickers.
“Um, no, the uh… the cologne is currently on markdown so I can do a price match and give you your money back.”
“Why would you do that?” He asks.
“Er, because… it’s policy?”
“You think I can’t afford it?”
“N-no, I didn’t say–”
“Look, I don’t need some department store busy bee to judge me, got it? This scarf costs more than your whole wardrobe,” he touches the patterned scarf around his neck.
“It’s a very nice scarf,” you agree.
He narrows his eyes, “you’re mocking me.”
You shake your head, “no, sir, I like the colours–”
“Give my goddamn package," he reaches and rips the box out of your hands, “and a tip, shut up and do your job. Maybe then you won’t have half the city waiting to get their shit.”
“Thanks,” you swallow down his anger. “Have a great day, sir.”
He doesn’t reply as he takes his cologne and storms away. You watch him and notice his cup still beside your till. It’s too late to call him back. You’ll just put it aside, you’re sure he’ll come back for it.
You move it to the other end of the counter and face the next customer, “hello, how are you?”
“Good,” the blonde woman answers with a gentle smile, “some people…” she tuts, “don’t let the grinches get to you, honey.”
“Thanks,” you feel the ice melt away, “I won’t.”
“Adorable cardigan,” she adds, “I really love the collar.”
“Oh, thank you,” you trill, “is this everything for today?” You gesture to the bottle of Calvin Klein on the counter.
“That will be it. And I’d love to have it gift-wrapped, thank you, hon.”
#andy barber#dark andy barber#lloyd hansen#ransom drysdale#dark lloyd ranson#dark ransom drysdale#dark!andy barber#dark!lloyd hansen#dark!ransom drysdale#andy barber x reader#lloyd hansen x reader#ransom drysdale x reader#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#au#multicharacter#multifandom#knives out#the gray man#defending jacob#series#three for one
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