#fun fact: i have been feeling this series' name more and more lately

[heygerald]

AU where Tom Ryder is still an asshole, just not a psychotic one. When he starts being less of an asshole, and more of a person, Parker finds that he isn't so bad. Not that she would tell him that, though.

Parker doesn't get much sleep. Not necessarily because she's so busy that she doesn't have time, and not definitively because of the sleep disorder she has self-diagnosed off of a sketchy website she found while browsing her symptoms one day.

In truth it's because she thinks too much.

She overthinks what her to-do list for the following week should be; overthinks the plot of her favorite tv series and whether or not they are going to kill off her favorite character in the mid-season finale; overthinks whether she should spend more one-on-one time with her brother while they're both in the same city, able bodied (with his career, there was no guarantee), and with the time to waste on stupid memories. On the really bad nights, Parker overthinks whether or not she made a mistake in purchasing an old, dilapidated bookstore that has drained her bank account over the last couple of years. She worries that her life is going nowhere, that she'll soon have failed at her dream venture, and that when she dies, she'll have no accomplishments to her name.

On those nights, she ends up washing down a handful of melatonin gummies with two boiling cups of sleepy time tea.

It helps, but it also leaves her floating in a state between unconsciousness and squirrely dreams that is hard to shake off in the morning.

Harder still to shake off when her phone lights up the room in the middle of the night, the shrill song of her ringtone bleating through the pitch black of her bedroom shocking her awake in delirious fright.

You gotta get up, gotta get out, gotta get home before the...

Parker swings her hand towards the nightstand in such a rush that she ends up knocking her cellphone onto the ground. It bounces on the hardwood floor—she doesn't even care if it breaks, the damn thing—before skidding underneath her bed. The light from it casts shadows in all directions.

What if I'm late? Gotta big date, gotta get home...

It takes her half crawling out of bed, sheets tangled around her bare legs, elbow braced on the cold floor as she blindly grapples for the device to find it. Colt always made fun of her ringtone—if you're going to pick a song, at least pick a good one, he would taunt while listening to Taylor Swift on replay—and while Parker had adamantly told him where to stick his opinion, at the moment, the song blaring in the middle of the night has her half-prepared to scratch out of her own eardrums in frustration.

The stanza continues: before the morning comes...

She grabs the phone and wrenches it—and herself—back onto the bed. The number isn't saved in her phone, and panic wells in her chest. She's gasping as blood rushes back down to her toes. "Hello?"

"Jesus, finally. I thought you weren't going to fucking answer."

Whether it's the tea, the overdose of melatonin, or the fact that she had just been woken up in the middle of the night, Parker can't seem to make sense of much. The only thing she can think about is how she has a brother who does stupid stuff for money, and has called her from the back of ambulance three times and counting.

Once on her birthday.

"Oh my god," she mutters, a hand already clutching to her chest as she can feel the cavity caving in. Clarity has no place in her spiraling panic. "Oh my god, he's finally dead, isn't he? Oh my god, Colt is dead!"

"What the fuck are you on about?" the voice interrupts her panic with a modicum of disbelief. It sounds familiar, but Parker is far more focused on regulating her breathing before she throws up than placing a voice through her half-broken speaker. The room, pitch black and without anything to see, is spinning. "I'm not even with Colt."

"Fuck," she curses, before recklessly scrabbling with her nightstand. It's a total fucking mess, and in her haste, she knocks a lamp and stack of books onto the ground. The least of her problems if her idiot of a brother is already fucking dead. "Fuck! Where are you? I didn't even know he was on a job right now. Um, what hospital is he at? Wait—shit—I need to find a pen and paper..."

"Parker, Jesus, Colt's fine. Stop spinning out for two seconds. Are you on drugs?"

She blinks, unsure if she just heard what she heard, and slowly withdrawals her hand as she tries to compute what is being said.

"He's... not dead?" she croaks hesitantly.

"He's fine. I mean, well, as far as I know," the voice drones on; it's clearly annoyed now. A scoff. "Why in the hell would you assume that he's dead?"

"Because—it's—" she wipes a hand over her face tiredly, sweeping tufts of hair off her forehead to peer at the clock in the corner. Large, red numbers blink at her showing that she had only been asleep for two and a half hours. Worse still when she makes sense of what she's seeing. "It's two thirty in the morning! Why the fuck would an unknown number be calling me in the middle of the night if it wasn't for Colt?"

"Are you—wait—are seriously his emergency contact?" the voice goads, teasing and judging all in one tone. She hates it. "That's a little pathetic, honestly."

Her left eye twitches. "Who the fuck is this?"

"It's Tom."

Parker doesn't know a Tom, she's never known a Tom in the entirety of her life, and as she struggles to clear her thoughts, the idea that some asshole with a stupid name like Tom would call her out of the blue at this time of night starts to really piss her off.

"Tom who? I don't know a fucking Tom!" she shouts into the receiver.

There's a thump against the wall, a muffled call of "shut the fuck up!" rings out from her roommate's room. Too many things are happening though, and Parker clutches her head between her hands while trying to stay on topic.

"Fucking Tom Ryder, smartass," the voice chides. "Who else?"

And—

Fuck.

Yeah, alright, maybe she did know a Tom, and, yeah, now that she thought about it, he was a raging, grade-A asshole that would call someone up in the middle of the night for no reason other than to ruin the first good sleep she had in a week. All while getting upset at her for her negative response to the impromptu gab-sesh.

You know, in the way that all assholes did.

"Why—?" she starts, before realizing that she is shouting. Parker clears her throat with a glance towards the wall and tries a second time in an angry hiss. "Why the fuck are you calling me at two in the morning, Ryder?"

"I finished the book and I want to talk about it."

The words don't compute for half a second, but when they do, Parker can feel a migraine spiraling behind her eyes. She sort of feels like she's having a seizure before realizing that it's just pure anger spiking in the bottom of her chest.

She's pretty sure this is how someone feels right before committing a violent crime.

"Are you—? I was fucking sleeping!" she hisses. "Good—fucking—bye!"

Hanging up the phone certainly isn't as satisfying as it used to be when flip phones were in fashion, and you could slam the top down to end a conversation. But pressing the big red END button on Tom Ryder does grant her a small moment of satisfaction. Even more so when she imagines the shocked furrow of his eyebrows or the crease of his mouth as he frowns.

Good, she thinks sourly while flopping back onto her pillows with a sharp huff, maybe Tom Ryder could use a few wrinkles in his life.

Her peace lasts all of twenty seconds.

You gotta get up, gotta get out, gotta get home before the morning...

Parker grabs a pillow and smushes it against her face hoping that it will drown out the noise. When it doesn't, she hopes that maybe suffocation will knock her out for a couple hours of sleep. But then there's another thump against the wall and she realizes that if she dies right here and now, the last person she would have ever talked to would be Tom fucking Ryder, and she's not so sure she's okay with that.

So, she removes the pillow to take a deep breath. Then she answers the phone.

"Did you just hang up on me?" he asks incredulously.

"It is two-thirty in the morning, and you want to talk about a book?"

A huff. "Yes. Why else would I ever call you?"

If she was more awake, Parker might have taken offense at the insult. She's much too groggy to do that, though. Besides, almost everything out of his mouth was some sort of judgement. At this point, she didn't think he would be able to speak without being rude.

"Couldn't you have called me during a normal hour?"

"My audition is on Friday," he said, as if that was any sort of excuse for his behavior. "I still have to read the other two books by then."

"Wait, I'm sorry," Parker interjects with a mean laugh, pausing to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Have you been up all-night reading?"

"You could sound a little less judgmental about it," he snarks. "I do read, you know. Bad scripts and the like."

She huffs. Not quite a laugh, but not just an expression either. It's a little hard to take anything serious when she's sleep-deprived and delirious. And, certainly, he can't be serious. That's her justification for giving up, anyway. "Okay, alright, fine. Which book did you finish?"

"Contact."

"That's a good one to start with," Parker murmurs, shifting on her mattress so she can cradle her PillowPet.

It has lost of all of its stuffing, an eye, and any joy it once had, but the penguin was a gift from Colt that she can't convince herself to trash. It mirrors her frown.

"No, not a good one. I didn't understand it at all."

"What didn't you understand?"

"Any of it, all of it. Why the hell did you tell me that Dune was too complicated and then hand me this shit?" he complains. There's something odd in his tone though. Something she can hear creeping through the syllables somewhere between annoyed and confused that reminds her of their conversation weeks prior at Gail's—you don't even sound like yourself, she had said. It's only now that she realizes he hadn't sounded like himself because he was doubting himself, which was the most un-like Tom Ryder thing anyone could ever do. She frowns at the thought as he continues. "It's all about math and pi and something called a transcendental number. I should have just watched Altered Carbon."

Parker sighs. "You're getting yourself all worked up over things that don't matter."

"Don't matter? It's all the book fucking talks about!"

"That's sci-fi," she says. And while it's a piss poor excuse, it's the truth. A moment later and Parker realizes that if he really had never read anything sci-fi before, he likely wouldn't realize the rules of reading it. Sighing, she takes some pity on him to explain, "okay, look. You know when you watch an action film and there's some ridiculous sequence that makes no sense; like when the ground is crumbling beneath their feet and the character jumps at the last second and is totally okay?"

"Like in the Fast and the Furious."

"Literally every single scene in those movies."

"Okay...?"

"Right, well, you watch those scenes and tell yourself not to take them seriously. They exist because it's an action movie, right? It doesn't have to be realistic."

"Sure," he agreed, but she could tell he still wasn't getting the point.

"It's the same thing when you're reading sci-fi. Okay? All the math and theoretical physics and calculations they do—whatever it is—they throw that stuff in there to build up a universe that feels real. The audience doesn't have to understand quantum mechanics to know that Chris Pine can fly a really big spaceship in Star Trek."

"You really have a hard-on for Chris Pine, huh?"

Parker ignored his comment entirely, barreling on. "The point of the book is not that the audience is stupid and needs to take some math classes even if that's how it feels sometimes. The point is that Ellie is a genius that no one else understands or believes in. When she talks about transcendental numbers and you have no idea what she means, that's exactly how the other characters in the book feel. They don't believe her because they don't understand her."

"So, it's... like an attempt to make the audience sympathize with her but also so the author can explain how everything happens."

Parker smiles. "Right."

"That's stupid," he says, and her smile immediately disappears behind a groan. "I just don' think the author needed to spend so much time trying to sound smart."

"It's a book about interstellar travel and the existence of intelligent life," she deadpans. "It's supposed to sound smart."

Tom mulls that over, and while he does so, Parker shifts once more in bed. The red numbers blink at her are only going up, but now that her heart rate has returned to a normal level, she finds it's far from the worst conversation she's had with Tom. Especially since she gets to talk about one of her favorite books.

Even if he is an ass.

"This would have been better as a movie," he finally settles on. It's not a sophisticated opinion by any means, but it certainly is him.

"Actually, it was originally written to be a screenplay. The movie got cancelled, and Sagan adapted it into a book."

"Seriously?"

"Sure," she shrugs. She spares a glance towards her nightstand where a copy of the book lays in tatters from how often she has read it. "Ironic considering the book became so popular that it got a second movie deal a few years later."

"...you're telling me that I could have watched this instead of reading it after all?" he barks. But, well, his tone isn't so annoyed as it sounds impressed. Parker hears the taping of buttons on a remote, before he's yelling. "Jodie Foster! Seriously?"

She can't help it. Parker laughs. "It's not a bad movie, but the book is way better."

"I have to watch this now."

"I have a copy you can borrow if you don't want to rent it."

"It's three dollars. How poor are you, exactly?"

She scoffs, an eye roll that has become habit when talking to the prick even though he can't see it. Snootily, she tells him, "I just rolled my eyes at you, asshole. In case you were wondering."

A harrumph. "I do think I caught something from your bookstore. I've been sick all day. It's disgusting—it's making my mouth all dry and it practically ruined my breakfast. I couldn't even eat my avocado."

"First the cappuccino, and now the avocado. Is there anything you don't blame me for?"

The teasing got the exact reaction she wanted, and as Tom starts complaining on the other end of the line, Parker smothers a laugh into her penguin. "It was a flat white! And—"

"I'm going to hang up on you now," she sing-songed. "And fair warning: if you call me again before eight am, I'm going to post your phone number on Reddit. Gail can eat shit with her lawsuit."

"Don't you fucking—"

Parker finds a lot more satisfaction in hanging up on Tom Ryder the second time, and when the phone screen stays dark, she plops it down onto her nightstand with an amused hum. It's past three am now, something she will be regretting come morning.

Then again, it seemed that Tom Ryder was all about regrets.

Right?

----

"Do you think I'm cool?" Parker ponders two days later, a glance tossed to her brother as she idly tries on a pair of sunglasses that are in the shape of trout. They're overpriced, but she's also incredibly bored, and about five minutes away from throwing a toddler-style meltdown in the middle of the bait and tackle shop.

"Of course you're cool," he says as he models a rash guard that he's been trying on for the last half hour. He twists in the mirror, left and right, before giving himself two thumbs up. There's something dangerous about the way he grins at her. "You have me for a brother, after all. Coolest kid on the block. Always have been, always will be."

"Right. Didn't they call you Shitpants in high school?"

A passing employee coughs into their hand to hide their laugh, and Colt turns a bright red.

"She's totally joking. They didn't call me that, my nickname was something totally different," he calls after the retreating sales associate, always attempting to save face but never quite succeeding. A moment later and he's glaring at his sister. "That was one time, and it was an accident. The potato salad was—"

"Bad," Parker finishes for him with an eyeroll. "Yeah, I know. I've heard the story."

"Then why do you insist on bringing it back up all the time?" he hissed.

There isn't much activity in the oceanfront store beside the pair wandering from aisle to aisle. It's a small shack that they've frequented for years. Colt pretends to be good friends with the owner, and Parker never minds because there's a great lemonade stand right down the block. It's usually the first stop of the day when they decide to hang out on the beach. Just a place to buy ice and snacks before moving on to better things.

Which is good considering there being little to no airflow when sitting inside, and the radio seems to be on a constant loop of Justin Bieber in his pre-puberty phase. It's not so good, however, when they spend more than five minutes inside.

Today, it seems to be the first and final stop given how long they've been there. She feels her bones getting weary from all the pandering her brother has done, and she's starting to suspect that his reasons for picking her up that morning weren't as innocent as he initially claimed.

Deprived of breathable air and sleep, Parker isn't all too enthused when she props the kiosk sunglasses onto her head with a pleading look towards her brother. "Because I'm bored!" she whined, in a way that was far too little-sisterly like for someone her age. Decidedly though she doesn't care when he makes no move to leave. "I thought we were just going to buy some sunscreen before heading towards the point. That's what you said, anyway."

"We are!" he says, arms thrown wide in exasperation. Parker doesn't buy that for a second, however, and her brother folds under her stare. "Just... in a minute. I need a new rash guard. Maybe some new board shorts."

"You don't even surf."

"I... do," he argues, his head bobbing up and down as if trying to convince himself of such a bold statement. "It's just been a couple of—"

"Decades?"

"Years," he corrects her with a glare. "It's like riding a bike. You know. Probably."

"Just with water and waves and the possibility of drowning or death by shark."

"You're not helping."

She shrugs. "I never said I was here to help."

Colt's response is a melodramatic pout, pausing in his nervous shifting to wave a hand in her general direction. "Well, this would be a lot quicker if you just helped."

He punctuates the statement by performing a full spin for her, hands stuck out before realizing that's awkward. To fix that, he props them even more awkwardly on his hips, but it only makes him look like he's a Ken doll pretending to be a real person.

Parker elects to keep that to herself sensing his anxiety was getting dangerously close to his own toddler-style meltdown.

"What do you think of this? Cool? Not cool?" he continues on muttering, head bobbing in every direction as he smooths the material down over his puffed-up chest. It deflates just as quickly as he turns back to her to ask, "pink's cool, right? I'm going for a laidback look, you know. But not too laidback. Somewhere right in the middle."

Parker returns the sunglasses to the rotating stand before plopping onto a stack of buckets. He seems awfully concerned with this particular task all of the sudden, despite spending the last three years avoiding the idea altogether. Every time he was offered a chance to get back out on the water by one of his stunt buddies, he miraculously came up with an excuse not to.

It all feels weird. And when her brother got weird, there was usually a girl involved.

Ah.

"You told Jody you still surf, huh?" she puts two and two together.

His peacocking in the mirror stopped entirely. A wince. Then a smile. Then a wince again in a ball of pent-up nerves. "That's... maybe one of the—she doesn't—you don't have to hang around here while I try these on. Don't you have something better to be doing?"

"If I had literally anything better to be doing, I would be doing it."

"Okay, ouch."

Parker rolled her eyes at her brother's whining. But really, she didn't have anything better to be doing at the moment than hanging around while her brother tried to impress a girl.

Not to mention she liked this girl.

Sighing, she decided to throw him a bone. Because, what else would she be doing? Parker peered at the rack behind him for a moment before pointing to the top. "Try the blue one instead."

Colt glanced down at his chest with a frown. "But... Jody likes pink."

"Yes, but blue will match your eyes better. Make you look tanner."

"And make me harder to see if I start drowning," he huffed. But, after a moment of consideration, stripped off the pink rash guard to pull on the blue one. Always a fucking argument with him, she thought with a bemused eyeroll. Especially when a moment later, "oh, this one does look better..."

She laughed as he spun in the mirror, attempting to get a three-sixty perspective of the potential garment. Only for the moment to be interrupted by a buzzing in her back pocket.

You gotta get up, gotta get out, gotta get gone before...

Her phone's ringtone broke through her relative boredom, and as Colt ran a hand through his hair and squared his shoulders in the mirror, she plucked the device out of her back pocket.

"You really got to change that ringtone," he said half-heartedly.

Parker stuck her tongue out at him and swiveled on her bucket, so she now had a view of the empty beach outside. It wasn't even that early—nine in the morning—but this particular spot was far enough removed from LA that people didn't tend to populate it unless it was a holiday weekend.

Phone pressed to her ear, she answered with a casual, "hello?"

"Was it not possible for you to give me a book from this century to read?"

A smile teased her face, and Parker returned her attention to the sunglass rack at her side just for something to do. Testing on an oversized pair of cat-eye sunglasses, she asked, "who is this?"

"Jesus, just save my fucking contact in your phone, already."

"Why would I do that when you could just stop calling me to talk about books?" she mused, stifling a laugh when there was a load of huffing and cursing from the other end of the line. He deserved it, though. Especially after ruining her sleep the other night and practically giving her a heart attack. "There are reddit forums for that exact purpose, you know. Maybe you could ask the nerds what they think. Go right to the source."

"You're such an asshole."

"Mhm. Takes one to know one, right?"

"Earthlight isn't a movie, is it?" he barreled on. She could tell from his tone that he was annoyed, and selfishly, Parker hoped that she was ruining his morning coffee and avocado toast. "It'd be a short movie."

"No, not a movie. Could be, I guess. You feel like self-funding?"

"You're hilarious," he deadpanned, and through the phone line she could hear the distant whir of a coffee grinder working. Knowing Tom, the thing probably cost more than her car. "Maybe you should quit your little bookstore and go into stand-up comedy. Probably make more money doing that. Granted, you'd have to sacrifice your dignity, but you don't have much to start with, do you?"

Parker tutted, but the overwhelming failure of her bookstore came back to mind full force at the comment, and so rather than keep up the joke, she moved the conversation on. "So, you liked it?"

"Well don't go sounding too smug about it," he chastised. "I liked it better, but still not much. They're both so outdated."

"Too much science for you?"

"This author really fucking loves the technical bullshit just as much as the last one. Pricks, all of them."

"Arthur C. Clarke is a prick?" she snorted. That was definitely a viewpoint she had never heard before. Leave it to Tom to dislike one of the best sci-fi writes in history because he spent too much time writing, well, sci-fi. "That's a hot take. He cowrote 2001 you know."

"A Space Odyssey?" She hummed. There was rattling and banging noises—the image of a hungover Tom stumbling around his kitchen came to mind—before the sound of a milk frother cut across the line. She jerked her phone away from her ear with a wince. Muffled, his voice returned. "Alright, that's not a bad movie. I'll give him that."

"It's only one of the highest-rated films of the genre," she retorted dryly.

More banging continued on the phone and as Parker tried not to let him blow out her eardrum, a hissing sound of its own came from her end of the line. She glanced up at the airshaft above her warily, but, if the sweat pooling on her back was anything to go by, it wasn't working. She glanced around in search of the noise before a rubber pool toy bounced off of the back of her head.

"Hey," the hiss returned. Pool toy in hand, she turned to find her brother waving a hand at her. The blue rash guard had been replaced with a yellow one. Worse still, he was now wearing a matching bucket hat. He gestured to himself as if he hadn't just assaulted her with a whale shaped toy. "What about this?"

She covered the phone speaker with her hand. "What happened to the blue?"

"This one is on sale!"

"Jesus, Colt. No girl has ever been impressed by that logic."

"I—" he started, then paused, and frowned at his sister like she had just burst his bubble. She might have felt bad if she hadn't been brushing off his puppy-dog eyes for the entirety of her life. The lip wobble was a new touch, though. "...is that a no to the bucket hat too?"

Parker responded by chucking the toy back at him. It bounced off his chest with a squeak.

"Yeah, alright..." he muttered, shoulders drooping, as he snatched the hat off of his head. It left his hair sticking up in tufts.

She kept that to herself.

"—are you even listening to me right now?" Tom's voice crackled back to life. If the incredulous lilt of his voice was anything to go by, he was not used to being sidelined for other people nor did he like it. "Who the hell are you talking to?"

"There was a bucket hat situation I had to deal with."

"...are you with Colt right now?"

She laughed. First, at the fact that Tom Ryder equated a bucket hat with her brother. Second because he sounded so disgusted by the fact that she would willingly spend her Sunday morning's helping her brother shop for bucket hats.

"You mean my brother?" she corrected.

"Did you tell him that I'm auditioning for a sci-fi roll? What does he think about it?"

"Why the hell would I tell him I'm talking to you?" she asked, echoing his sentiments from their last phone call. Parker was only teasing though, while she was pretty sure Tom had meant to be mean. Regardless, she moved on as she stood from the bucket to stretch out the kinks in her legs. "A bucket hat is a bad idea, right?"

"Is this seriously more important than what I want to talk about?"

"This may come as a surprise to you, but my world doesn't revolve around things that you want to talk about," she explained exasperatedly. Not necessarily because of what he said, but because she was fairly confident that he actually believed those sentiments. Worse still, she bet no one had ever told him that before. "Particularly not at two in the morning—thanks for that by the way. My roommate is pissed at me for waking her up."

A pause. Then, "you still have a roommate? How old are you?"

"I was serious about posting your phone number online you know," she threatened idly.

Colt disappeared into the changing booth, and Parker slowly started perusing the now abandoned hat rack. Despite her disapproval, she was bored. Plus, it actually had a fairly impressive selection.

Plopping an oversized sunhat atop her head, she ignored his insult to press on more important matters. "But seriously. Bucket hats. They're out of style, right?"

"Bucket hats have never been in style."

"Fashion is all made up anyway."

"That's just what poor people say who can't afford actual fashion."

She tutted, scrunching her nose up. Derisively, she asked, "did Gail tell you that?"

"Alright, that's it. I'm hanging up."

"It was a joke—!"

Joke or not, the dial tone was the only response that she got from Tom. She stared at the phone in her hand for a moment before huffing.

So that's what that feels like, she thought.

Something bright and ugly popped into her line of vision, and Parker glanced in the mirror to find her brother sporting a cheetah print body suit paired with a trucker hat that said Wine Made Me Do It in big, cursive lettering.

"Now, not to step on any middle-aged ladies' toes, but this is fashion," he clapped his hands with a goofy grin on his face. He gestured to the hat with a crooked thumb. "Get it? Two dollars!"

Parker laughed; couldn't not even if she wanted to.

Her brother was so innocent and idiotic and awful that while she once used to be embarrassed in public by him, now she just appreciated the fact that he was, always, unashamedly himself.

"Here, wait," she poked her tongue out of the side of her mouth while angling her camera at him. "Say cheese."

"Asiago," he cooed, making a Blue Steel type face that looked ridiculous when paired with his clothes.

The picture was even better, and Parker felt tears gathering in her eyes as they giggled. The employee from earlier shot them an annoyed look, but he was promptly ignored. If she didn't care about Tom Ryder's opinion, she certainly didn't care about his.

"That was good, right?"

"Oh, definitely. Jody won't know what hit her," she teased. Colt nodded, looking all too smug with himself, despite the fact that she was joking.

This smug version of himself reminded her of someone else that he looked a whole lot like.

An idea struck Parker, and as Colt started putting back the clothes where he found them, she quickly saved Tom's number in her phone before attaching the picture to the contact. Parker hesitated when she saw his name typed out.

Asshole, she typed in big letters. It was funny for half a second, though, before she realized it didn't quite feel right.

She deleted his name. Thought about it. Then replaced it with nothing more than a simple puking face emoji.

"Are you getting that?" Colt asked, drawing her from her reverie, and when she glanced up, she remembered that she was still wearing the ridiculous sunhat. "Because, you know... I'm not so sure that's something a cool person would wear."

Parker shoved her brother towards the cash register with a laugh.

They left the store with a blue rash guard, a pair of sunglasses, and matching bucket hats.

Twenty minutes later they realized they had forgotten to get sunscreen.

---

Paker had heard a lot of stupid and surprising things in her life; things that were so shockingly idiotic that she often wondered if they had been spoken as a joke. Most of the things on that list were quoted from her brother; a man she loved, but that didn't entirely think before he spoke.

When they were kids, he had argued that fish didn't need oxygen to survive. That's why they live under water, dummy, he had said with far too much confidence that she, younger and far less educated, could only blink at him. Then there was the time in his twenties that Colt had brought up the topic of furries at the dinner table in front of their grandparents. They're not, like, really having sex... are they? he had asked while trying to figure out what costume part would go where if they did do the dirty. And of course, there was the infamous baking soda as a cure all for wounds debate, but she tried to block out the sound of his skin literally sizzling as he screamed.

Tom, in the short time that she had known him, had also said some pretty shocking things that wound up on the list. He was, after all, an unapologetic asshole/idiot that didn't care if the world was flat or round so long as it revolved around him.

But out of shocking thing she had ever heard, it was fifteen-year-old California born and bred girl that topped the list.

"I want a job," Melissa proclaimed.

Parker's pen scratched an ugly line across her poor excuse of an accounting notebook as she glanced up wildly, big eyes blinking slow and dumb, as static hummed in between her ears.

"...what?"

"I want to apply for a job," she reiterated.

The bookstore was empty save for a pair of retirees that were slowly perusing her small selection of bird watching books. An oversized fly buzzed overhead, whizzing an uneven path between the two, as an irritable car stuck in traffic laid on the horn outside.

"Like—like here?" Parker asked. There was nothing fun or young or hip about her store. Just dusty bookshelves, a musty smell she could not get rid of no matter how many Bath and Body Works' scent infusers she plugged into the corner, and a ratty reading chair that had a Melissa-sized depression in the middle. She arched a brow. "You want to work... here. In my bookstore."

Melissa rolled her eyes, shrugging. Duh, the gesture said.

"Yeah, sure, obviously," Parker hummed, despite the fact that there was nothing yeah, sure, or obvious about the current conversation. Specifically given that Melissa, on more than occasion, had complained that her store was boring. "Just... why?"

"I need money."

"Suuuuure," she drew out the syllable, wooden stool creaking as she shifted in her seat behind the register. "But wouldn't you prefer to work somewhere a little more, er, fun?"

"This place is plenty fun."

The fly from earlier buzzed between them before smacking into the windowpane. It spiraled to the floor with a depressing zzzz.

Parker raised a second brow.

Melissa, in response, threw her hands up with a huff. "Okay, so, maybe I've been rejected from Jamba Juice and Target already. Which is so, totally crazy."

"That is crazy because I thought Jamba Juice went out of business—"

"And I can get my driver's permit in three months, and I want to get my license as soon as possible. But there's no way that I'm going to have Mom drive me everywhere, so I need to get a car. And to get a car I need to be able to afford a car—which, like, the economy is awful right now if you didn't know—so I need a job. Mom and Dad said they'll match whatever money I can put towards it. And as of today, that is a fat zero."

Woes of teenage girls, Parker thought.

"That's nice of them," she said instead. Not that she envied a teenager in the twenty-first century, but for her sixteenth birthday she had been given a bike. Not even a new one. It had been Colt's old one that he outgrew, and it still had flame stickers and duck tape wrapped all around it. "But, seriously, there has to be at least one other place a kid your age would want to work."

Melissa, having been slowly circling around the center of the room, paused in her ambling to cast Parker a suspicious look. "Do you not want me to work here or something?"

"No, of course I would want you to work here—"

"Great!"

"—but I have no money. Why do you think I'm the only employee here?"

Melissa considered that. "I just always assumed you were a little uptight and didn't like other people messing with your shelves."

"Uptight?" she cried. "Why does everyone keep calling me that?"

But Melissa didn't seem to notice that she had just quoted her celebrity crush, and so she instead turned her attention to the bookstore. She cast a critical eye over everything; though there was no smoke, Parker could smell the wheels turning between her ears, and slumped further onto the counter in preparation for what was to come.

"Don't get me wrong, Park, I love your store," she started. "But it could definitely use some updating."

"Updating?" she deadpanned.

"Some new paint for starters. I think it would be so cute if you painted it, um, maybe a soft blue. Then you could paint the bookshelves in different colors—pastels, definitely—and even some flowers here and there wouldn't hurt."

Parker made a face. Pastels weren't really her thing. "You want to paint the shelves?"

"It's just so brown."

"The natural color of wood, yes."

Melissa rolled her eyes, and with a waft of Vanilla perfume, trotted behind the front desk to examine the string of posters tacked onto the wall. Most of them were salvages from the dollar store, and while Parker thought they gave the store some character, Melissa clearly didn't agree. "These totally need to go too."

"Excuse me—"

"You could still keep them," she huffed half-heartedly. Clearly, she wasn't sold on the idea, but Parker would be damned if she pitched her Jane Austen posters based on the opinion of a teenager. "Just cut them down to a smaller size, put them in some picture frames—you can get them super cheap at the thrift store—and they'll make it look less packrat-like and more eclectic."

Parker glared, an argument on the tip of her tongue.

But, well, when she thought about it, it wasn't such a bad idea. And, well, maybe giving the store a new coat of paint wasn't either. It still looked like it had when she bought it from Larry. She had spent so much money on the loan payment, that she never considered really updating the place—mostly because, duh, she had no money—but paint and some dollar store frames weren't so expensive.

"How do you know all of this?" she asked with a quizzical look.

Melissa smiled, phone waved in hand as she tossed a plait of perfectly curled hair over her shoulder. "I spend a lot of time on Pinterest. What this place needs is a total cottage-core makeover."

"That sounds so made-up."

The girl frowned. "Well, duh. Everything is made up."

Parker opened her mouth, thought it through, and then promptly snapped her mouth shut. When did kids become so philosophical?

"So," said kid leaned onto the front counter with a conniving smile. She was a pretty girl with a clear complexion, bright white teeth beneath blue braces, and a deep closest of cute, but age-appropriate clothing. When she wiggled her eyebrows, Parker couldn't help but notice how well shaped they were. "Can I have a job?"

It was a tempting offer...

She glanced at the balancing worksheet she was doing, scores of numbers and ugly handwriting sprawled across her notebook, before taking a proper look at her empty storefront.

"I'll... have to think about it," she finally hedged.

Melissa's shoulders sank in disappointment.

"I don't have a ton of money right now," she explained, not at all liking how sad she looked. Colt's puppy dog expression had done nothing to prepare her for Melissa Abernathy's professional one. "So, I'll need to look things over first."

"But...?"

A sigh. "Are you free on Sundays?"

"I thought you were closed on Sundays?"

"I am," Parker nodded. "Which means it's about the only day of the week that I could try to paint this place. If you're serious about wanting a job and wanting to help, I'll consider bringing you in on the weekends to start helping me renovate."

A grin broke out on the girl's face, and she started bouncing on her toes. "Really?"

"Just temporarily," Parker threatened with her index finger. She wasn't sure how much was being heard and how much was going over the girl's head, however, and suddenly this was all feeling like a bad idea. "You can help me paint and decorate, and then I'll look at my finances."

"And you'll hire me?"

"If I can afford it, then... yes, we could work something out."

"Yes!"

"Just a few shifts a week!"

"That's perfect."

"And I'm not paying more than minimum wage."

"Totally fair. This rocks!"

"I said if—"

Melissa was already on her phone, texting and typing away as she bounced around. Parker felt a migraine start whirring between her temples, but—well—the kid was so excited that she couldn't feel too miserable about her decision. Tourist traffic was dying down as the season's changed, and she really needed to do something if she still wanted to be in business come the new year.

There was the sound of a camera clicking, and Melissa grinned from her corner of the room. "Oh my god, Park, you're so not going to regret this. We could totally do a beachy palette—blues and greens and, oh, orange—throw some rugs down, add some little details to the bottom of the shelves that you have to look for to see. Like easter egg, stuff. Oh, this is so exciting! I'm going to get Miranda and Abby to come, they have a great eye for detail."

She watched Melissa disappear down the MYSTERY aisle, all the while chatting to whoever she had already gotten on the phone.

Parker steepled her head between her hands with a sigh.

But, well, the enthusiasm was contagious, and after a moment she was laughing to herself. Maybe a fresh coat of paint would cheer her up.

Speaking of, how much did paint cost?

She was in the middle of a google search when her phone started to ring. The caller ID only showed an emoji and a picture of her brother modeling a ridiculous outfit, and she let out a childish snort in response.

A small smile in place, she answered. "Three books in a week. I have to say that I am a little impressed."

"Hm. I'm impressed you finally saved my contact. I was starting to think that basic technology was beyond your skill set."

"Hardy, har, har," she deadpanned, rolling her eyes. Melissa was somewhere in the back of store now, likely scaring off her only customers, and she decided to give up on her accounting for the day. Twisting in her seat so she was watching the street outside, she propped her elbow on her knee. "What did you think of Nemesis?"

He seemed hesitant to answer. "I... liked it."

Parker grinned. "Oh, you did, did you?"

A sound halfway between a groan and a whine. "You're fucking infuriating, you know that?"

"For recommending you good books?"

"You don't have to be so smug about it."

"I'm not smug," she said smugly.

He scoffed, and Parker couldn't help but grin even further. The idea that Tom Ryder, pain in her ass, was admitting that he liked her recommendation was the metaphorical cherry on the top of her cake. Even better, she got to be smug to him about something.

Parker continued on to say, "I guess I'm just happy that I recommended something you like. Especially since I didn't think you liked anything other than looking in a mirror, hair gel, and hot lattes."

"For fuck's sake, it was a flat white, and it was one time."

"Was it?" she teased, enjoying the conversation far more than she should be. This was the asshole that drove her brother insane every day at work, after all. But then again, what Colt didn't know, wouldn't hurt him. "You're just so memorable, I guess. Can't stop thinking about it."

"I would hope I'm memorable," he shot back, a whole lot of huffing and puffing from his side of the line that didn't fit the whole "perfect human being" sort of vibe he tried so desperately hard to give off. A dog barked in the distance. A second, more put-off and annoyed huff argued back. "Putain, calme-toi, Jean Claude."

Parker curled an eyebrow, impressed. "Was that French?"

"Impressed?" he said, taking a page out of her book to sound unnecessarily smug.

Catching a glimpse of her reflection in the window—a stupid smile in place, lip pulled between two teeth, eyes twinkling in a way that didn't suit the sleep-deprived bags beneath them—Parker straightened in her seat. "Hardly. It's an ugly language," she said, overcorrecting just a little by insulting what some considered to be the language of love. Not her best move. "Moreso wondering why you're imposing a foreign language on your dog. Seems cruel."

"He's French," Tom said, certainly rolling his eyes.

"Ooh, a French bulldog? I love those."

Something about the insinuation that Tom Ryder would own a bulldog managed to insult him, and she heard the scorn in his voice when he responded with a scathing, "I would never own a fucking bulldog. They can't breathe and can't run thanks to decades of improper inbreeding. What use are they?"

"...they're cute?"

She heard him mutter something in French, before another bark—as if his dog, the French bastard, was agreeing with whatever complaint he made against her—and Parker was so elegantly reminded of what a pain in the ass he could be.

Chin in hand, she rolled her eyes. "You want to tell me about the book or not?"

There was noise from his side of the line; music in the background kicked up, the sound of dog food being slung into a metal bowl, a faucet running, before things quieted down a bit. "I thought the idea of moon colonization is a little overplayed, plus there's the whole bit about the telepathic organism that is so fucking stupid," he said.

Despite his tone though, somehow Parker just knew that he was only complaining so he had something to complain about. She didn't wonder how she knew that.

"The book is from the eighties. I don't think moon colonization was overplayed when he wrote it," she protested anyway, sipping on her watered-down cold brew as she did so. "And the bit about the organism is fascinating to me. Everyone always writes about ET-style aliens, but I thought it was brilliant of Asimov to create something new."

"Brilliant is what I do. Not writing a short story about a family being separated in space," he grumbled. A moment later, "you're awfully hot on these writers. You've never called me brilliant before." Sore about it, obviously.

"That's not true. I think you're brilliantly self-centered and egotistical."

"Elle pense qu’elle est une comédienne, celle-ci," he muttered, much to her English-speaking chagrin. He switched back to say, "I'm the reason your brother has a career, you know. You could give me a little credit."

"Are you?" she mused, knowing it was a load of horseshit. Self-centered and egotistical horseshit that only further proved her point. "Interesting. I thought he introduced you to Gail."

A moment of silence. "He told you that?"

"We tell each other everything," she said. Though, that wasn't exactly true, was it? "Well, mostly everything, anyway."

"Hm. I could argue that's breaking our nondisclosure agreement. I could probably fire him for it, you know," he threatened, idly, though, and without any real heat to his words. There was the sound of water running in the background, and Parker really hoped that he was spontaneously washing some dishes and not talking to her while in the shower.

"Please. We both know that Colt is the best stunt-man out there. And you only work with the best, right?"

His lack of response proved that she was right; Colt was the best at his job, and he just so happened to look a whole lot like Tom Ryder. Not to mention that Tom's entire career was built around bragging how good he was, how talented the people he worked with were, how he didn't settle for anything but excellence. In fact, Parker was half-sure she could break Ryder's nose and the only backlash Colt would get would be a whole lot of bitching.

Granted, she might get arrested, but at least her brother would be relatively fine.

"When's the audition, anyway?" she asked just to be nosy.

"Tomorrow morning."

Parker raised a brow, idly watching as some idiot failed to parallel park out front. "Cutting it a little close, huh?"

"I'm Tom Ryder," he said, in his typical sense of self-importance that she loathed. Though, this time, Parker didn't loathe it as much as she found it amusing. "I know what I'm doing and don't need your fucking opinion about it."

"Do you have that written on a motivational poster somewhere?"

"No," he said immediately. A little too quickly, in her opinion, and Parker narrowed her eyes with a sneaking suspicion that his house was just plastered with photos of himself. "Whatever. I have to go. Unlike you I don't just have all day to talk."

She scoffed incredulously, reminding him that, "you called me!"

Unsurprisingly, however, he didn't care. "I need to practice some more before the audition. Unless you want me to fail."

"I didn't think Tom Ryder could fail."

"Yeah, well," he hesitated for a moment, all that bravado he'd been displaying moments earlier gone in a flash. Parker wondered if he ever talked to anyone without it, and if he didn't, then what sort of friends he had in his life. He cleared his throat. "It's a big deal. Not just for me, but Colt too. This would be our biggest movie yet. Some extra practice doesn't hurt anyone."

Pride swelled in her chest; her brother had always impressed her with how he built his own career, moving to LA without knowing anyone and not leaving until he accomplished what he wanted. And while she was his biggest fan—number one, as she liked to joke—his success was his alone, not Tom's.

Still, without Tom it may have been less consistent, and without Colt, Tom may have been stuck doing rom coms. Parker kept that to herself.

Instead, she said, almost sensing that he needed to hear it, "yeah, well, I know you don't need it or anything, but—you know—good luck on the audition. I think you'd be really good in a sci-fi film. Despite what Gail seems to think, I might actually want to, er, see that movie. Pirated, of course. I don't go to the theaters for just any asshole."

The sound of water cut off, and for a long moment it was silent. Then, a scoff. "You're right," he said. "I don't need it."

Parker hummed, rolling her eyes, and biting back a smile at his blatant audacity. Gail was right about one thing; there was no one in this world quite like him. Maybe that was a good thing, too.

"Sure. You being Tom Ryder, and all. Guess you're a shoo-in, huh?"

"Well," he cleared his throat, "I do have the blonde hair and blue eyes."

A laugh bubbled up her throat, and she only managed to keep it to herself when the door jingled with the sound of new customers. A pair of teen girls strode inside with sweet, but nonplussed looks on their faces, and mindlessly Parker waved them towards the back where Melissa had disappeared to.

Watching them amble with her phone tucked against her shoulder, she asked, "did you just make a joke? Forget sci-fi, someone should call SNL right now and get you an audition with them."

"You're just as bad as Colt. You know that?"

"And now you're just handing out compliments," she teased. He laughed in response, wasn't quite quick enough to disguise it as a huff or a cough, and Parker bit her lip to keep from smugly grinning like a total idiot. "Just don't forget to send me that agent's fee when you get the part. I accept checks and DutchBros gift cards."

"Jesus Christ, you're pathetic."

"Am I? Because I just so happen to be popular enough to have the one and only Tom Ryder calling me three times in one week."

"Good-fucking-bye, smartass."

The sound of a dial tone came a second later, and when Parker glanced at her screen she was greeted with her own reflection. She didn't mind that he hung up on her. If anything, she almost wished that he had more time to talk. If only because he seemed to be in a rare, friendly mood.

Not because she almost actually liked talking to him. Asshole-ish tendencies notwithstanding.

"What are you smiling about?"

Parker turned to find Melissa and her two friends staring warily at her across the counter. Clearing her throat, she set her phone aside with pink cheeks.

"Er, nothing."

She harrumphed. Teenagers had never seemed so intimidating before, and with a self-conscious smile, Parker smoothed her hair down as subtly as she could.

"Need something?"

"Do you have any John Green books?" one of the girls asked.

Parker nodded, shaking off the conversation to switch into work mode, and smiled a little more genuinely at them all as she stood. "Sure, loads. Come on, I'll show you," she waved them after her, and as they browsed, they filled her in on what paint colors they thought would look best.

Melissa, she mused two hours later with disheveled hair, sweat-tacked curls on her neck, a stack of notes in one hand, and a long email chain of Pinterest posts on her phone, could rule the world one day.

She just needed a car first.

#plot bunny #the fall guy #tom ryder #original female character #tom ryder x ofc #tom ryder imagine #series?

[melverie]

⸺ LESSON 8 ⸺

Nightbringer

Solomon & Barbatos

MC's magic

situation in the Devildom

strange feelings & soup

the 'MC is human' situation

misc

- lesson 7 || lesson 9 || all posts so far -

Hi! It sure has been a while, huh? So sorry about that, I thought that maybe taking a break would make it easier for me to NOT somehow try and connect every single detail to who I want Nightbringer to be, but nope, it just made things worse. Oh well... Also, I decided to stop counting when Solomon wears his human world clothes. While it is weird that he switches that often, I don't think when he wears them has any significant meaning Also also, I know we most likely won't ever see him again, but Adam, I have my eyes on you... General spoiler warning for all of Obey Me Nightbringer, as well as for the original Obey Me

⸺ NIGHTBRINGER ⸺

once freed from the grave and inhabiting Mammon's body, Adam tells us what happened to him, and tells us a little about Nightbringer [8-16; all pics below] -> he also points out that while he does remember Nightbringer's name, he "can't be certain that was his real name" [8-16]. Interesting detail to include

Nightbringer somehow knows that MC has the Ring of Light [8-16] -> fun fact! If you're on the amnesia route, you get a flashback of Solomon briefly explaining what the Ring of Light is to MC. Also this is how I found that I was apparently on the amnesia route while replaying -> upon seeing it, the Gang™ recognizes the ring as Lucifer's, only to immediately gaslight themselves into thinking the opposite. Thank god they're all allergic to braincells

Nightbringer entrusted Adam with a message for MC; "It's not yet time for you to return" [8-18] -> I know that's probably not how they meant it, but timing-wise it kind of sounds like it's not time for MC to return to the Celestial Realm

⸺ SOLOMON & BARBATOS ⸺

disregarding the insult he throws in right after, Barbatos does speak with some respect about Solomon, and suggests that if MC wants to stay in the Devildom, it's best if they talk to Solomon about it [8-1] -> btw not him telling MC that after he teleported Solomon away

⸺ MC'S MAGIC ⸺

MC is able to pull magical power from the brothers and succeeds in opening the gate to the Celestial Realm [8-18] -> sure would be a shame if something like literally opening the gate to the Celestial Realm just like that had no repercussions whatsoever later on, huh :)

Adam says the following [8-18; pic below]. What do you mean by that, Adam???

⸺ SITUATION IN THE DEVILDOM ⸺

we learn that the relationship between the Devildom and the Celestial Realm were nearly at the breaking point, and while they are still far from stable, at least a war could be avoided [8-1] -> and yet, Simeon talks about good relations between the Devildom and the Celestial Realm back in lesson 6

we also learn that the Demon King suddenly fell into his slumber, meaning all responsibility of governing the Devildom fell onto Diavolo's shoulders. The House of Lords thinks he is too young for that though [8-1] -> apparently the Demon King fell into his slumber right after the brothers got their ranking [8-9; pic below]. Interesting timing to say the least -> this lesson in generall talks a lot about where the Demon King is

⸺ STRANGE FEELINGS & SOUP ⸺

Simeon greets MC with a "welcome home" [8-4], meaning he on some level somehow knows that MC originally lives at the House of Lamentation

MC's future room has apparently become a regular meet-up spot for the brothers, and Lucifer even takes naps in there [8-9] -> Asmodeus also describes it as "a favorite spot from your past." Interesting wording [8-9; pic below]

⸺ THE 'MC IS HUMAN' SITUATION ⸺

Diavolo claims that he can "sense something" in MC [8-1]. He himself isn't entirely sure what it is, but I'm guessing it's the angelic qualities that MC inherited from Lilith. In OG season 3 (lesson 52 iirc?), illusion angel!Lucifer also points out that MC possess those qualities

⸺ MISC ⸺

Luke claims that angels can tell when someone lies to them [8-4], yet he still 100% believes that MC is a demon

thinking about it, it is kind of interesting that MC actually wants to stay in the past. We have no option of saying that we want to go back [8-4; pic below]

MC writes a goodbye letter to the brothers that promptly proceeds to be so irrelevant to the story [8-11]

after MC successfully opened the gates to the Celestial Realm, Adam tells them this [8-18; pic below]. IN THIS WHAT, ADAM.

there's some talk about finding happiness between Lucifer and Simeon [8-A]

Lucifer is unaware why Simeon is now an archangel [8-A] -> while not stated in the lesson itself, we know that Simeon got demoted because he covered for the brothers

we learn that most past demon kings died in battle [lesson 8 hard mode]

they also bring up that humans live such short lives in comparison to demons and angels [lesson 8 hard mode]

#fun fact: i have been feeling this series' name more and more lately #especially lesson 8 and 10 broke me. send help :> #mel's descend into madness #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me spoilers #obey me nightbringer spoilers

[hanafubukki]

Happy Birthday Malleus Draconia 💚💕

Summary: You kidnap Malleus Draconia.

Sebek knew it would be a tiring day when he saw a letter placed on his wardrobe table.

It had decorative little crocodiles and squirrels all over with his name written in your writing.

He could already feel a headache incoming.

He’ll wonder how you snuck into his room to place said letter later, he was more interested in the message you had to say.

“Dear Knight,

Your Lord has been kidnapped. He is mine for the day.

Mwah~

YN”

Sebek rushed out of his room, running to the Diasomnia waiting room where his lord would sit and enjoy tea at this time.

…only to be met with a giggling Lilia and a napping Silver.

“YN!”

“Did you have to tease Sebek?”

“It’s all in good fun Tsunotaro.”

“I see.”

While Malleus ponders your answer, you plopped down right next to him on the couch.

“What does this…kidnapping entail?”

You could tell Malleus was humoring you. He found this whole situation funny and yet intriguing.

“For you? Just sit there look pretty and enjoy all the snacks, games, and movies I have.”

Malleus laughed lowly, “YN, I do have duties to fulfill. I can’t just sit here.”

You shrugged, “One day without work won’t bring down your dorm. Besides, all work and no play make dragons go cranky.”

Malleus laughed freely and you joined him this time, “Is that so? Then I shall join in this activity with you.”

You laid the nearby comforter over you and Malleus before starting your T.V.

It would be a good day; you would make sure of it.

“This warrior does not speak?”

“Kind of. He talks he’s just not voice acted, but he does make sounds when you attack with him.”

“Interesting. A silent and courageous warrior who will save his kingdom and the princess.”

“Reminds you of someone?”

“This Link reminds me of Silver. They share many similar qualities.”

You joked, “Are you the princess then?”

“I am a prince, am I not?” Malleus replied, before softly continuing, “and Silver has saved me, from myself.”

You bumped your shoulder with his, “That’s love for you.”

“Yes, it is.”

“That crocodile and that pirate…”

“Funny, isn’t it?”

“Yes, especially as Kingscholar dressed as one during Halloween.”

“Does the crocodile remind you of Sebek?”

The glint in Malleus' eyes answered your question.

You can only imagine Sebek's reaction if he knew, “Well with the way Sebek is always barking at Leona, I can't blame you for thinking it.”

Ah, you were going to hold this over Sebek's head forever.

“Those fairies should have never been given the child.”

“Yeah…”

“They haven’t properly fed her, even Lilia knew to feed a baby!”

“Yeah.”

“She almost fell off the cliff!”

“I know. They suck.”

You tugged at Malleus’ hair, “At least she had someone to take care of her, two of them in fact.”

Malleus calmed down knowing exactly to whom you referred, “Yes, those days were filled with laughter and warmth even amidst the chaos. How…nostalgic.”

Malleus leaned towards you; a mischievous glint in his eyes, it reminded you of a certain pink-streaked fae, “Want to hear an embarrassing story grandmother told me about Lilia?”

“Yes! I’m all ears!”

You watched as Tsunotaro enjoyed Toothless and Hiccup's adventures.

You knew he would like this series.

You wondered how Sam had the trilogy.

…you would question him thoroughly later.

You were content to watch Tsunotaro be happy.

His family is never far from his thoughts as he is never far from theirs.

You felt happy to be part of his family.

“YN, is there a reason to why we are making cupcakes this late at night?”

He didn’t know.

You hid your smile as you put the tray of goodies into the oven.

Malleus must have enjoyed his day if he forgot why tonight would be special.

“Anytime is a good time for cupcakes, just like how you can have ice cream even during winter.”

“I thought it was easier for human’s teeth to decay due to late night sugary treats?”

“We’ll be fine! Just make sure to brush your teeth and don’t tell Trey -senpai.”

You went over to the nearby drawer. The confetti poppers were there as planned, just a few more minutes before the time came, so you snuck them into your pocket discreetly.

“Let’s go play more Zelda.”

You and Malleus moved towards the lounge; you eyed the hallway clock on the way.

Less than a minute.

You took out the poppers from your pocket.

“Malleus?”

“Yes?”

You pulled the poppers out just as he entered the ramshackle lounge.

3…2…1

“Happy Birthday (Lord) Malleus!”

Malleus was shocked as confetti rained on him from all sides.

Lilia, Silver, Sebek, and you surrounded him as the day turned over.

His surprised face broke into a wide smile before an unrestrained joyous laughter filled the lounge.

What a beautiful start to today.

The day Malleus Draconia was born.

A day filled with endless love.

Happy Birthday Malleus.

Resounded affectionately in all the hearts of everyone present.

May you always be filled with happiness and love.

Bonus:

Silver came to you as you watch Lilia bear hug Malleus. It was funny how someone so petite wrapped all four limbs on someone so tall.

Silver hesitated.

You knew.

“He baked a cake, didn’t he?”

Silver sighed, “Yes. We tried to stop him.”

You laughed and shook your head.

“It’s okay. Toxic waste it might be, but it is something Lilia made with him in mind. Malleus will love it nonetheless.”

You bumped shoulders with Silver, whispering, “We made cupcakes.”

Silver’s grateful smile had you hugging him.

No one will get food poisoning today, not on your watch.

You hoped.

☺️🌺🌸💚

#twisted wonderland x reader #malleus draconia x reader #twst x you #twst malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia #twst x reader #lilia vanrouge #twst silver #malleus x reader #sebek zigvolt #twst malleus draconia #twisted wonderland x you #silver vanrouge #x reader #twst scenarios #twst drabbles #twst imagines #twst #malleus draconia x yuu #twst x mc #malleus draconia x you #could be platonic or romantic #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland

[sahkuna]

needed to write a drabble about sukuna being that hot older brother you always look forward to seeing at your best friend’s (yuuji) house... eee!

UPDATE: there’s a FOLLOW UP to this drabble

content warning: f! reader, smut, childhood "friends" with benefits, best friend's brother trope! oh and modern au:]

he’s only a couple years older than you, (by three years, if you want to be exact) and you’ve been acquainted with itadori yuuji's older brother— sukuna— multiple times.

whether it was through seeing him over at the itadori household during high school or being invited out by yuuji to sukuna’s new place a couple years after college— sukuna had always been a lingering presence in your life.

your relationship hadn’t been anything more than exchanging brief pleasantries whenever needed. until things start growing more suggestive as the two of you grew older.

it wasn't planned. the kissing, the meet-ups late at night, him deliberately lingering around when everyone else seems to have left the room. there were too many incidents to recall.

but one thing lead to the next and...

the slapping of skin on skin can be heard throughout his apartment, echoing against the walls of the vacant hallway that leads towards the doorway of sukuna's apartment.

tucked away behind his bedroom door, is quite an obscene scene. with your chest pressed against his mattress and face covered deep into his pillows, there's only so much left for you to do as you stick your ass up to receive the rough pounding from sukuna's thick cock.

the coherent sentences you used to form a few moments prior have slowly turned into a series of whimpers and broken moans all while sukuna has a tight grip on your waist pulling your ass flush against his hips so he can bury himself deep into your sweet cunt— unprotected.

you forgot how this came to be, of who convinced who to dip their toes into the world of sex with each other but you're damn glad that it happened.

"oh god," you blurt out between cries. sukuna's left hand drags down away from your waist, and finds its way toward your clit. "ah—! please, don't stop! that's… so good, so goo—ah!" you just about lose your mind when his fingers tease your sensitive clit in slow, torturous circles.

there's a mean, wicked smile tugging at the corner of sukuna's lips. his brows rise in amusement at how quick you are to fall apart in his hands— quite literally at that, too. "think you can hurry up and finish before your friend comes back?" sukuna asks, tone unwavering despite how his hips thrust into you repeatedly.

ah. your friend. his brother. the fact that he doesn't even bother to address him by name and does it dismissively would have you chiding him to be nice— but you're too far gone to digest what he said.

between the touching and the fullness of his dick pressing and rubbing against the walls of your pussy, you squeeze your eyes shut and wail. "please, please— i think i'm—!" your hand shoots down to hold onto his wrist. but you don't pull it away from you, despite how overstimulated you feel. "shit!"

when sukuna pulls out briefly to rub the head of his cock against your slit, you whine at the loss of him. with shaky hands you press your palms against his mattress, and make a weak attempt to change positions onto your back.

"please, put it back in!" he's definitely gonna make fun of you for begging later. but perhaps a higher power decided to have mercy on you— just this once— because sukuna's back between your thighs and stretching your hole.

fuck him, fuck him, fuck him and his stupid, girthy cock. and the smug ass expression he's probably got on his face right now.

despite that all, you wanted to kiss him. just the thought of it was—

the harsh sound of a fist pounding at his front door tears you from your thoughts. you're about to question who it is until you hear a voice from the other side that you know all too well.

"answer your phone, sukuna!" wait, why's yuuji here? "if you're gonna invite me to your place, at least do it when you don't have some girl over!"

"are you crazy?!" your voice is sharp, incredulity seeps through your tone.

with his dick still submerged in you and his hips rolling at a languid pace tacked with the sound of the gentle plap-ing of his skin against yours, — as if his fucking brother wasn't technically right the fuck there— he offers you a mere shrug. "forgot i invited him over."

and fuck him for being your best friend's older brother.

#sahkuna! #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryoumen x reader #jjk x reader #sukuna smut #jjk smut #bfb sukuna #hopefully this shows <333 #TUMBLR STOP HIDING MY STUFF

[auteurdelabre]

Code Broken (Series) dark!Joel Miller x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni

summary: "You broke into my house," Joel says moving his gaze from your eyes back down to your mouth as his wide hand grazes his belt buckle. "Moved my shit around. Least you could do is be polite."

You only wanted to pull a silly prank on your neighbor, Joel. Who could have seen it ending up like this?

[AU where Joel Miller ends up in Jackson City by himself.]

warnings/tags: Extremely dubious consent, oral sex [m receiving], rough oral sex, face-fucking, Come shot, Joel is bad at feelings, Mean Joel, Dirty Talk  

word count:  6.9k

a/n: Y'all, this whole series is pretty depraved (from my perspective) and much darker than my normal stuff. I wanted it as a challenge and I had a lot of fun doing the series, there's 5 parts so I hope you enjoy it. Comments and the like really make my day. xx

masterlist

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Chapter 1: Go your Own Way

Joel Miller is the most serious man you've ever seen. The rigidity of his spine when he walks, the dark eyes always darting around in stormy irritation. People still greet him when he goes into the center of town, and he nods politely and makes small talk. But he never looks anything other than bothered.

He terrifies you. 

You know his name only because of your friends in the small community of Jackson City. His brother is Tommy, a cheerful man married to Maria with a baby on the way. Tommy is the one that welcomed you into this settlement years ago, the one that settled you into the modest home you now live in on the end of Rancher Street. Larger homes buttress you on either side and yours is dwarfed in comparison but you don’t care. You still can’t believe you have your own house.  Your own bed. Your own everything.

You watched the survivors come from all over the globe, watched as the community swelled in number and joy over the years. It was like a slice of heaven in and amongst a hellish landscape of the undead.

And then Joel Miller had entered and everything for you changed.

Tommy and Joel couldn't be more different. Tommy is sweet and polite and likes to ask after people to make sure they're okay. He’s stoic and his dark eyes light up when he laughs or makes a joke.

Joel keeps to himself. He doesn't talk to many people. He answers people with a serious tone in his drawl. He likes horses and he likes music, that's as much as you can tell about what he likes because he rarely does anything else.  

When he'd moved into Jackson City he'd been given the home next to yours. Yours was a simple one bedroom, meant for singles, his was a spanning home with a garage. You rarely saw him outside unless he was headed for the stables or communal meals. 

Sometimes on nights your window was open to let in the night breeze you heard him playing his guitar in his place. On rare occasions he sang, his voice rasping and mournful under the chords. It made your chest tight and your eyes prick with tears. It made you remember a youth you’d rather forget.

It was actually the music that had inspired your first attempt at an introduction. 

You'd been out planting in your garden when you heard the front door to his place creak open. You walked casually over to the fence that separated your properties to see him sitting on the front stoop of his place, a pale blue coffee mug in one hand. 

He was looking into the middle distance, his profile strong. You'd leaned on the fence, hoping to catch his attention. As a man always on alert he had, his dark eyes sliding over to you as you greeted him. 

"You play really well," you told him enthusiastically, recalling the tune you heard him play late into the night the evening prior. "Was that Fleetwood Mac you were singing yesterday?"

Joel hadn't replied. In fact he'd given you the coldest look you'd ever received, stood up and gone back into his house. You'd stood there looking after him in shock for several moments until going back to your gardening. 

When you'd told your friend Trish what happened that following Tuesday during your weekly "book club" (drinking poorly made wine and playing cards) she'd laughed in that annoying way of hers and told you to stop being so sensitive.

Trish told you that Joel Miller was rude to everyone. That the only reason people put up with it was because his brother was Tommy and because Joel himself was one of the few bachelors in the community.  Then she’d gotten a soft look in her eyes and sighed that Joel was gorgeous in that sullen, quiet way that made older men mysterious. You hadn’t understood that, having never found poor humor and a bad attitude attractive.

You’d decided it had been a one-off. Maybe Joel was just tired that morning. You tried waving to him if you saw him in the street, one hand usually on the reigns of a horse tugging it gently behind him. He never returned the gesture. 

It came to a head when you and Trish had been to a movie night in the square some months later, the summer heat always driving you indoors where it was cooler. They were playing an old science fiction feature and finding seats was near impossible. It was always like this when a popular film was showing. The popcorn lay in big tubs and patrons brought bowls to scoop the kernels into.

The children were hunched in front of the large white blanket that acted as a screen chatting animatedly. Your co-workers waved, observing how busy it was as you scanned the space, seeing an empty chair in the middle row near the back. Trish told you to grab it and that she'd search for another free one. 

You'd been so intent on taking the chair that you didn't even realize who was seated next to you until you plopped down, brushing arms with the bare forearm next to you. 

You noticed his jeans first, the way they seemed molded to his muscular thighs. Then his forearms, his plaid shirt rolled to the elbows and then finally up his neck to his profile, the full lips, the hawkish nose and the dark eyes that you could clearly see were trying to ignore your presence.

"Hello neighbor," you'd chirped trying not to sound as nervous as you felt. You'd watched as he glanced out the corner of his eyes at you, nodding briefly. Emboldened by this you motioned towards the large white sheet.

“You a big fan of Charlton Heston?”

He’d given a short nod, a grunt of a reply. This had felt like such progress to you and you relaxed a bit into the seat. You saw Trish heading your way with popcorn in hand and your knee bumped into Joel’s as you swivelled in your chair, angling your neck to see if there were any other free seats. 

"Do you see any other empty seats? My friend Trish-"

He gave you one sharp look, scanning your body from top to bottom before rolling his eyes and jerking from his seat. Your face went bright red as he sidled past you just as Trish approached with popcorn.  

"What was that?" Trish asked, looking after his frame quickly disappearing down the street. You'd shrugged, embarrassment overtaking you.

But the message was clear: Joel Miller can't stand you. 

You suppose after that is when you decided on payback. Something innocent, really, silly in hindsight. Something that would irritate him on a daily basis. 

The plan was to hide his guitar somewhere within his home. Specifically, in the back of his under his kitchen sink... then the bathtub ... then under his bed. 

It's immature, especially at your age. But you'd missed out on so much life during those twenty years of running and hiding that this felt fun.

You could imagine him going insane trying to find it. Shouting angrily when he realized it was misplaced only to find it popping up in random places in his home.

It was an innocuous prank, borne out of boredom and humiliation. And if Joel caught on or accused you and brought you before the sheriff, what could they do? The guitar never left his house. How could it be stealing?

It had seemed like the perfect plan.  

But now as you pull the black hooded jacket over dark jeans and look into the night sky this evening, you're wondering if this was really is the best idea. 

You've gotten away with it twice before. Once to hide the guitar in his shower. Once under his kitchen sink. 

You do this once a month on one of the evenings that everyone is at the movies. After your last experience with Joel, when you started to internally begin cataloguing his movements, you'd noticed that Joel attends every single one. His only habitual act that you can count on. 

His visits with Tommy are regular but never scheduled, sometimes they go to the bar, sometimes at Joel's and you assume, sometimes at Tommy's. He's not a big joiner, not found during game nights at the canteen. He rides, that much you've seen and know. He likes to be around the animals. 

There’s not much to do in the evenings in Jackson City, and that usually rests easily on the community. After so much violence it’s nice to have quiet, peaceful nights. But the movie nights provide popular and give you enough time to act, a good hour and a half minimum. You could push it to two hours but that seems foolish. It's a perfect time because it's where your neighbors are usually spending their time as well. 

The first time you'd navigated from your roof to his, you'd been shocked at how easy it was. Your homes were close together and jumping onto his shingles was nothing more than a gentle leap in the darkness. 

The window to his hallway was unlatched, just as yours was, just as most everyone's was. You lived on a glorified compound; no one felt the need to lock up the upper floor windows. 

You'd squeezed in, falling gracelessly onto the wood floor. You'd worked quickly, finding the guitar beside the fireplace downstairs and gently placing it into Joel's shower half leaning against the tile. 

Then you'd run back, closing the window after you, jumping back onto your roof and throwing yourself back into your bedroom with your heart in your throat. You hadn’t taken time to catch your breath before you'd rushed down your own steps and run to the movies, coming in the back to make it seem like you'd always been there, standing near the far corner with your heart racing, trying not to giggle. 

When the lights flickered on and everyone rose to leave you made sure that Joel saw you, brushing past him intentionally. You had to have an alibi. He needed to see that you’d been here the whole night, just as he had.  

"Excuse me," you'd said airily, not even put off by the silence of his reply when you ‘bumped’ into him. 

The second time in his place you were finding an appropriate hiding spot for his guitar when you'd noticed other things about him. Like the detailed wood carvings that lined the mantle over the fireplace. The paintings of landscapes filled with animals hung around the sparsely decorated home. 

You’d taken time to wander around the home, noticing the records, the other guitars hung on the wall. You’d seen the reading glasses on the coffee table in front of the sofa and the woodworking space in the garage. It had been thrilling seeing this interior life, knowing that the impenetrable Joel Miller wore reading glasses and carved wood figurines. There was something beautiful in those small pieces of him.

But tonight as you stand looking at yourself in your mirror you wonder if maybe that's enough. You've had your fun. You've tricked him twice; you've snooped in his home. That's enough. 

That should be enough.

But you haven’t seen his bedroom yet. Something holds you back every single time you consider it. You’ve walked by that closed door twice, knowing that solving the mystery of Joel Miller could be even closer if you just walked over the threshold.

You’re broken from these thoughts when you hear his front door open. You creep to your bedroom window, hiding in the shadows to see his tall frame pulling his jacket on, locking his front door and heading to the center of town for the film. His boots crunch the leaves underfoot as he moves and when he turns the corner you know it's time to move. 

You traverse across your roof silently, cloaked in the darkness of the night. The neighborhood is mercifully quiet and you take a moment to appreciate the view. Your thankful for the still of the evening, the quiet and you glance up to see the stars dotting the sky. 

Then you’re back focusing, leaping onto Joel's roof and hurriedly moving inside. You pass the familiar sights of his closed bedroom door, the creaking wood hallway leading to bathroom. The single red toothbrush that sits sadly in a fogged water glass. You jog quickly downstairs to retrieve the guitar, always in its stand by the fireplace. 

It gleams in the moonlight streaming through the window, as if it’s begging you to grab it, to hide it, to play a game. You take it into your hands, always sure to be careful with it. Pulling  a prank on him is one thing, willful destruction quite another.

It's your last time doing this, you've decided. So where should you hide it?

The answer comes to you almost immediately - his bedroom. The only room of his house you haven't snooped yet. The only space of his that you haven’t conquered. Excited tingles go through you as you race back up the creaking step to his bedroom, pushing the door open without ceremony before your nerves overtake you. 

It's a simple box shaped room, larger but the exactly the same shape as yours, which is exactly the same as the many homes that line these streets. Joel's is much less inviting than yours though. 

He has a bed near the window, tan sheets and blue coverlet. The bed is hastily made, as if he'd been in a rush to leave. There is a small nightstand next to his bed holding a pile of books.  On one wall is a well built shelf holding a myriad of records, all ones you've heard him play and on the table below it is the record player. 

You observe that his closet doors are half open and you pull them smoothly apart, your gaze going hungrily over the contents inside. You’re  amazed at how neat and organized it is. Shirts and jackets are hung, hats on shelves, belts strung on hooks.

The familiar green plaid is hanging there dead center, reminding you of that embarrassment at the movies. Despite this your fingers go to the fabric and you find it soft with use and age. Without thinking you dip your face forward, dragging the fabric to your nose and you inhale. It smells like him, or how you imagine he smells. Like the outdoors and fresh laundry and warm cologne. Probably the cologne you saw in his bathroom during your last adventure. 

You take the smooth neck of the guitar and place it gently in the far side of the closet floor, next to what looks like a beat-up tan backpack. You close the closet doors with a smile of self satisfaction, imagining what his reaction will be.

You've never actually seen Joel get upset by these pranks but one day working on your garden you did hear him complaining to Tommy over coffee that he must be getting old because he can’t remember where I put my fucking guitar.

You'd giggled yourself silly at that, trying your best not to be heard as you moved the soil under your gloves. It had tickled you immensely to know that your small inconvenience was upsetting him. You felt vindicated for the way he had treated you.

You stand in the center of his bedroom and your eyes drift back to that pile of books and you find yourself curious about what he reads. You traces the spines with your forefinger and your gaze and you're shocked when you find classics by Jane Austen and books on astronomy. You'd expected worn paperbacks of cowboys or travel. 

You notice that behind this stack of books there's a framed photo of a smiling Joel and a sweet faced little girl, obviously his daughter at what looks like a carnival. You can see a waving Tommy in the distance. You’re shocked at how different Joel looks when he smiles, his dark eyes crinkling authentically, his smile broad and his face boyish. Perhaps he is sort of attractive, in a brooding way.  

You notice the yellow of age in the corner of the photograph and the realization that the photo is over twenty years old. When you look closer you can see Joel is younger, his hair and beard not threaded with grey. 

Knowing what that means in this dark world of carnage is what solidifies the realization that you've overstepped. 

You need to leave. Fuck the prank. Fuck harassing a guy who clearly has very good reason to not like people. You were so quick to judge, so fast to make it about you when maybe, just maybe, he was just a loner who never got over the loss of his kid. 

You even think about taking the guitar back to its place by the fire when you hear the distant jingle of keys hitting the lock to the front door. 

What the fuck? He was supposed to be gone at least another hour!

Your heart sinks when you hear him enter his home, tossing the keys onto the kitchen table and moving quickly to the stairs.

Fuck. 

Now his footsteps are on the creaking staircase coming your way. If you run for the window in the hallway he'll see you through the gaps in the banister. If you hide under the bed you'll be easily seen. 

Panic overtakes you and you do the only thing you can think of and dash into the closet, sure to avoid hitting the guitar with your leg. You close the doors, leaving them open just a hair, just as he had.

You don’t want to arouse suspicion. You'll just stay here a little bit. Wait until he goes back downstairs and then try to sneak back out the window. 

"The fuck?"

You hear Joel on the landing and now you realize your fatal mistake when he murmurs something else to himself and you hear the heavy sound of the window being closed.

You left the fucking window open. 

He knows someone is inside. 

You cover your mouth, muffling the shallow pants of terror that go through you when Joel enters the bedroom. Through the slits between the slightly parted closet doors you can just make him out.  He doesn’t turn on the light in the bedroom, so everything is still bathed in a blanket of darkness tinged blue from the moon’s glow.  

He’s wearing a flannel, this one tighter around the shoulder, emphasizing the muscles of his back and broad expanse of his upper body. He looks suspiciously around, his face stoic like someone on a deadly mission.

He walks past the closet, his body strong and his movement’s solid in a way that intimidates you. If he wanted he could snap you in half and not break a sweat. He scans the room before slowly dropping to his knees beside the bed, craning his head to see underneath. 

When he sees it's clear he stands again and moves out of your view.

You tilt your head, trying to listen for his footfalls but hear nothing but silence. Did he go downstairs? You figure he's gone to check out the other rooms when the closet doors fly open revealing you to him.

Joel is there, his hands on either door as he looks down at your hooded frame hunched in the corner. 

"I fucking knew it."

He reaches in and pulls you out of the closet by the arm of your jacket but you stumble out, wrenching out of his grip enough to run into the hallway, your heart pounding. 

The window is closed. It'll take too long to open. Your best bet is to run downstairs and out the front door. You think since you're hood is still on he hasn't seen your face properly and there is a chance to make an escape.

You move swiftly down the hallway, your eyes on the nearing stairs but he's immediately there, gripping you by the back of your jacket and tugging harshly. You fall back into his arms before he’s whirled you around to face him.  

You give a sharp yelp when he slams you against the nearest wall, his hand around your throat pinning you there. 

"Who the fuck are you?" 

His voice is loud and echoes in the barren hallway. He sounds furious, not that you're shocked. If you'd come home to a stranger hiding in your closet you likely wouldn't be elated either. You try to hide your face in the hood of your jacket, panic making you feel cold all over. If you could just-

His large hand comes to rip the hood of your head, taking with it a few loose strands of your hair. You give a hiss of pain as your scalp tingles. 

You're caught. 

Joel's stares down at you with fury in those dark eyes of his that fades abruptly when he recognizes you.  "You live next door."

He still has you loosely pinned to the wall by the throat, but now he drops his hand, gliding it down your collar before pulling it from your body. He smooths his palm over his wavy hair, not out of nerves but more out of disbelief at seeing you of all people in his home.

"Did I hurt you?"

You stare up at him in shock. You've broken into his house and he's the one asking if you're hurt?  You shake your head. The slam of your back against the wall had shocked you more than anything. He looks confused, his eyes narrowing on your face. 

"How'd you get in my house? Why are you here?"

You're both breathing heavily and you can only hope he doesn't see the fear in your eyes.

"I'm sorry," you sputter instead of answering him. "Just a joke, was just-"

"How did you get into my house?" He repeats though this time his voice isn't as hard, more curious.  

"I j-just climbed in the window," you explain shakily pointing to the window at the end of the hall. "My roof is close enough to yours that..."

You trail off, not wanting to incriminate yourself further. He's so close to you that you can feel his warm breath falling over your cheeks. 

"I've never stolen anything," you assure him just in case that's what's really upsetting him. "Never touched any of your stuff except your guitar. Just hid it a few times and I was really careful with it."

"Why were you doin' that?'

"It was just a joke," you say again weakly, though now under his severe eye line you can't understand why at one time you thought it was so amusing. 

He's not responding, not replying, just staring at you with that inscrutable gaze. There is a flutter of panic starting in your belly, the realization that no one knows you’re trapped between Joel Miller and the wall. The knowledge that despite a few interactions, he remains a mystery.

"I should get back home," you whisper, trying to sidle off to the left. "My boyfriend is waiting for m-"

His palm comes to lay flat against the wall just next to you, boxing you in. Its dark in the hallway, but the moon hits you both, silhouetting you and showing you Joel’s expressive eyes.  

"You live alone," Joel says with a sigh, as if your lie has disappointed him. "Have for as long as I've been here. Only company you get at your place is on Tuesday nights with that gal of yours."

You gape up at Joel, shocked at how accurate he is. Your brows furrow in confusion. "How do you know that?" 

"Same reason you know I go to the movies every other week."

He's been watching you. 

Just as you've been watching him. And while you know why you've been following his schedule, noting his arrivals and departures you can't understand why he would be doing the same for you. He just keeps staring at you in that intense way of his that makes you feel warm and tingly all over. 

"My friend Trish-"

"No one knows you're here," Joel murmurs, his eyes moving to your mouth and then back to your eyes. His voice is so low, so velvety, so soothing despite the inherent menace in the sentence.

You swallow thickly, the sensation of fear slowly curving the length of your spine. You’re suddenly so aware about how little you know of Joel Miller. For all you know he could be a serial killer. 

But that doesn't fit with how he's studying your face. He looks more open, even bordering on amused. But that can't be right, he can't stand you and now he knows you've broken into his house on more than one occasion.  

"Had a feeling someone was fucking with me,' Joel observes evenly. "S'why I turned around tonight. Realized the guitar thing only happens when I'm out at the movies."

You remain silent, feeling so stupid. Why had you needed to keep going? Why didn't you just go with your gut instinct and stay home?

"I’ll go," you croak, hoping that Joel will take pity on you and just let you leave. Joel's face remains placid, his hand going to rest where your neck meets your shoulder, stopping you from leaving. 

"You broke into my house," Joel says moving his eyes from your eyes back down to your mouth. "Moved my shit around. Least you could do is be polite."

Polite? What is that supposed to mean? 

The meaning becomes quite obvious when you feel his heavy hand on your shoulder begin to press, moving you back to slide down the wall until you're on your knees between he and it. The wood floor bites into your denim clad knees, but you remain still.  

His eyes stay on your face as realization dawn's on you. His fingertips are ghosting over your shoulder and you watch as his free hand goes to his jeans, undoing the button and bringing down the zipper. You can see his pale boxers underneath and watch his hand flexing. 

Your eyes dart back up to his face, seeing the way he towers over you, his breathing elevated only slightly and his eyes fixed on yours. 

Why aren't you running?

He reaches and grips your wrist in his fingers. You watch almost detached as he opens your hand with his own and slides it under the waistband of his boxers. 

Why aren't you screaming?

His stomach is warm and taut, strangely smooth for a man of his vocation. You hesitate before his hand is forcing yours to continue, wrapping it tightly around his hard cock. You hold in a gasp as your palm hits it, instinctively curling. 

"Like that," he murmurs gently. 

He's warm and thick and under your exploratory fingers you can feel him twitch which excites as well as terrifies you.  He hisses through his teeth softly as you begin to squeeze, your eyes focused on his face. His eyes never leaving yours, the full mouth dropping open as he groans. 

You continue slowly, feeling the ridge of his shaft, the pulsing heat of that iron under velvety skin. He has his palm flat on the wall above your head, his forehead moves to rest in the crook of his arm as he gently shifts his hips.

You stare up at him from your spot kneeling on the floor, still in disbelief that this is happening. Usually just the sight of him walking down the same street as you is enough to send you bolting in the other direction. 

But now his gaze is soft and half lidded. His mouth isn't curled into a sneer or scowl. Joel Miller is much less intimidating when he's leaning into your stroking hand.

Then with a soft grunt he bats your hand away and brings himself out of his boxers. You hide a sigh at the sight of his broad hand curling around his thick cock. You hadn’t expected beauty in him, a softness of movement inside his rigid edges.  

He remains standing there unmoving and watches you stare, breathing shallowly as you drink him in. You think he must like it because you can see droplets of pre-cum gathering on the tip. It's obvious what he wants. 

Your heart gallops. "I don't-"

"'Course I could just go down to the sheriff and see what they make of this break in," Joel interrupts tightly. "Whatever you'd prefer."

It's blackmail, plain and simple. And considering how the threat of being tossed into the wild with the ravenous clickers is always an option when it comes to the sheriff, you know your choices are limited. 

His large hand has come to slip over the head of his cock, his hips moving to press into his fingers slowly. You seriously consider your chance of survival outside these walls survival when Joel tilts his head slightly, a small smirk playing on his lips. 

"I think you want it," he croons, his hand continuing to stroke himself shallowly. "Think you've wanted my cock for a while now, pretty eyes. Just been afraid to ask for it."

You frown, protestations dying on your lips as you consider his words. Had a small part of you been wondering what lay beneath your neighbors rough exterior? Was that why you had been so determined to engage with him in the first place? 

Wait, did he call you pretty eyes? 

A steady thrum starts between your legs at that, your knees pressing into the wood floor harshly. You feel too warm in your jacket, but you don't dare move. You feel like a trapped animal trying to outwit an apex predator. 

"Just a taste," Joel suggests when you don't reply, his hand moving from his cock to cup your cheek. You feel your lips parting subconsciously to take in a sharp breath as you regard him twitching inches from your mouth. 

Fuck why are you even considering this? You should be screaming, running away, not on your knees and looking at Joel's hard cock with what feels like a burgeoning anticipation. 

No. You're not doing this. It's fucking degrading. You barely know Joel Miller and this is- Your eyes fly open when his hand comes to grip your chin. His eyes are heavy lidded with lust, the pupils blown wide. 

"Open up," he commands huskily.  

When you don't immediately acquiesce you feel his thumb drag over your lower lip, curling over your bottom teeth and urging your mouth to open for him. 

After a moment of consideration your jaw goes slack and you feel your heart leap when Joel gives you a ghost of a smile. There is a brief shadow and you're almost convicted you saw a dimple in his right cheek. 

You don't have time to consider this because he's taken his cock in his hand again, stroking the base languidly.

"Mouth open. Tongue out." 

You hesitate, wondering how far this is all going to go. He's not actually going to go through with this, is he? You open your mouth a bit, your breathing coming out in hurried puffs. The amusement has fled from his features and he narrows those dark eyes of his on you

"Tongue. Out." 

The words are clipped and offer no room for negotiation. With a quiver that goes through your core, you do as instructed, slowly inching your tongue out of your mouth and letting it hang over your lower lip. 

He moves slowly, but you're still shocked when his hips shift forward. You turn your head at the last minute, panic overtaking you. Joel gives a grunt and you feel the warmth of his cock pressing against your cheek having just narrowly missed your mouth. 

He growls in frustration, his hand coming to grip the back of your head as he drags his cock along your cheek. You feel the pre-cum smearing along your skin to the corner of your mouth like some debauched trail of pleasure but you seal your mouth closed, a small form of rebellion. 

"Don't make me ask again."

His voice is low and dangerous. If it hadn't been so intimidating you might have pointed out that he hadn't asked for anything, just demanded. But as it is you’re caught in his home, his hand is wrapped in your hair and he doesn’t look like he’s fucking around.

You tilt your jaw and again stick out your tongue. With cock still in hand, he taps the weeping head onto your flattened tongue before letting it rest there, heavy and pulsing. The salty flavor of him explodes on your tongue, the ridges of his cock pronounced on your sensitive tongue. 

Your eyes crack open and move up the length of his body, noting that Joel's breathing picks up when your eyes meet his again. 

Without ceremony he slips past your lips, tensing only when you let out a small cry of surprise. When you offer no other protestations his cock inches further into the slick heat of your mouth. He gives a small shudder, his head tilting back and exposing the column of his neck.

Your eyes shutter closed, your mouth working around him, confused as to why you're not fighting this more.

"You deserve this," he says through slow exhales, his hand bracing on the wall behind you. His eyes are closed so you're not sure if he's talking to you or to himself. 

His hips snap forward and you whimper, feeling him inch closer to the back of your throat. One of his hands moves down to stroke your hair as he withdraws, his slick cock dragging against your lower lip. You exhale through your nose, catching your breath as you look up at him. 

He's breathing heavily, his mouth parted ever so slightly. 

"You can take it all," he tells you plainly.

And without another word he's thrust himself back fully into your mouth. So deep that your nose brushes against the wiry hairs at the base of his cock. You feel him hit the back of your throat and it takes everything not to gag or pull back. You have a feeling if you did he'd stop. 

But you want to continue. You want to hear what other noises Joel Miller makes when he gets his cock sucked. 

Does he do this often? Instruct women like he's done to you this evening? Fuck their mouths? The thought overruns your senses, imagining Joel in the throes of orgasm. Imagining that its you doing it to him. Your tongue swirls on the underside of him and you're rewarded with a shallow gasp.

Joel groans, watching your bob your head along his shaft. His hands are on either side of your jaw, guiding you along his slick member. 

"I just know this is makin' you wet," Joel grunts as his hips continue to thrust forward. "Me fucking this sweet mouth of yours." 

While you wish you could deny it, he's completely right. You are shocked at how wet you are. You can feel it there, pooling between your legs as you suck him.

His movements increase in tempo, the motions are abrupt and you search for purchase anywhere. Your hands go to the bottom of his t-shirt, gripping it as you urge him to bury himself completely in your mouth. 

He growls as he begins to fuck your throat hard, so hard your head jerks back and presses into the wall behind you. He pins your head there and shoves his cock deeper into your throat, giving sharp moans as you whimper and writhe, knowing you can't escape. For a moment all you can feel and see is Joel's cock, slick with your saliva sliding between your lips over and over again. After a few guttural grunts and thrusts his movements slow and he lets his cock simply pulse there, your lips straining to wrap around it.

"Show me those pretty eyes," he murmurs. He doesn't need to ask you twice, you lift your gaze up the length of him, hollowing your cheeks. When your eyes finally meet Joel's you hear a sharp inhale from him. 

"You have no idea how fucking gorgeous you look right now," he says, his teeth clenching as you continue to suck him. "F-fuck, those eyes staring up at me.. Your mouth so... So full of my cock... You like it don't you? Having my cock fill your sweet mouth?"

You make a low humming noise of approval. Those words, those filthy, delicious words wrap around your insides. Now your hands are at the base of his cock, stroking him as you swivel your tongue along his shaft. 

"So good," he grunts, his hand going to the top of your head. But instead of using it to brace you and push further into your mouth, it just rests there, almost fondly. 

It's you who grips the back of his thighs, urging him down your throat. You who moans wantonly not for him but because you're so turned on you can barely function. 

You suppose that's what tips him over the edge, your open desire. 

Now his movements are erratic and he's fucking into your mouth so harshly you think you might faint. Not from pain but because it feels so fucking good to be used like this. So taboo to have the grouch from next door using your mouth for his pleasure. So fucking heady knowing that he’s going to come because of you.

Your hands fly back to the base of his cock, stroking him as you swivel your tongue along his shaft. He makes a sound that could almost be a whimper if it weren't so low and gravelly. He tilts his chin down, watching you.   

"You want my come?" He grunts, pulling your hair back at the nape of your neck, forcing your gaze to his. You nod, your mouth stuffed with him and he makes a noise in the back of his throat as he pulls out from between your lips.  

"Say it.” He's visibly shuddering as he takes his cock in his hand and begins stroking. 

"I want it," you whimper, your body aflame. 

"What do you want?" He asks jerkily, his movements becoming staccato-ed. "You know what I wanna hear." 

"Please Joel," you say; drifting forward and licking the reddened head of his straining cock. "I want your come. Please." 

He licks his lower lip swiftly. 

"Fuck yeah you do," he sighs almost reverently before the fist around his cock increases in speed. "You're gonna take every last drop aren't you?"

Another nod from you and now your tongue is out, flattened and ready for him as you arch. Joel makes a tortured sound in the back of his throat. 

"Keep those pretty eyes on me," Joel whispers raggedly. "Don't you dare look away." 

Your eyes open just in time to see Joel Miller come undone before you. The face normally contorted into a frown or grimace is replaced by his mouth curved into a disbelieving smile as he looks down at you, his breathing coming out in short little rasps. Then he stills and you watch him spill out over his hand.

Thick ropes of his come erupt over you, landing in warm strips along your cheeks, your lips, your tongue. His hand continues stroking, painting you with him, muttering filth that you can't really hear before he is spent. 

Joel's legs tremble a moment, but grow steady as he leans against the wall with his forearm. You go to wipe your face but Joel shakes his head. 

"Don't move," Joel demands breathlessly. "I.. I just need to look at you."

You sit there, your face decorated with his seed and your eyes fixed on his face for what feels like forever. He looks at you as if you are art. As if you were designed and molded to be everything he wants. 

You want to bathe in the warmth of his eyes forever, but soon his breathing becomes even. He tucks himself back into his boxers and zips up his jeans. 

You sit there expectantly, unsure of what to do next. After everything that happened is-

"Get out."

You blink twice as the words sink in. You’re still kneeling there, still staring up at him when Joel pulls back, his gaze hard again. He raises a brow in irritation, a silent question of why are you still here?

Humiliated again by Joel Miller.  

You hastily wipe at the cooling seed on your face with the arm of your jacket as you scramble to a stand. Your eyes go to the stairs, thinking of how you'll get back inside your place and you make a motion to go down them. His hand shoots out, holding it in front of you to stop your movement. You notice he doesn’t touch you when he does this.   

"You can go the way you came," Joel says without inflection and somehow this option of escape feels like a further sting. He steps back, indicating the hallway window with a tip of his head and you move past him quickly, hot tears pricking the back of your eyes.

You pull open the window with ease, not looking behind you to see if he’s watching. You hope he’s not. You pull yourself over the sill and lower yourself onto the roof.  You hate yourself for looking back over your shoulder, hoping he’ll stop you and bring you back inside.

Instead you watch as Joel brings his wide hands to the lip of the window, preparing to shut it the moment he stops speaking.

"Don't ever break into my house again."

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller smut #smut #fanfic #pedro pascal #dad joel miller #fanfiction #dark!joel x reader #dark!joel miller #dark!joel #deaddovedecember2023

[nolita-fairytale]

Carmy as Your Baby Daddy | Social Media AU & Headcanon Series | part three

part two | masterlist | part four me and @carmensberzattos are back again with more carmy as your baby daddy thots. no fr, this is pretty much just a leaked and edited version of our dms. telling people & your second trimester. #teambreaktheinternet

telling everyone at the bear is the most heartwarming and fluffy thing. tina absolutely knew the whole time. "i knew it!" she brags smugly. "what do you mean you knew?!" you exclaim while carmy looks perplexed. "just a feeling," she shrugs in her most 'i'm always right' tone of voice. "food poisoning, my ass."

richie's reaction is unexpected. while you think he'll say something snarky or crass, he has a much more emotional reaction. he gets quiet for a long time, and neither you nor carmy are going to say anything about the tears welling in his eyes. it's not till later, as you're getting ready to go, that he pulls you aside. "thank you for changing his life," he says, and you think it's the most genuine you've ever seen him.

the second restaurant, sydney's restaurant, is open and up-and-running, so you have to make your way there next. while carmy is working that night, you head over to the new restaurant with a cake you made that says 'best auntie ever.' it takes her a minute to realize that you're telling her that you're pregnant, and she practically stops any pre-shift duties as she tackles you in a hug while yelling: "we're having a baby!? we're having a baby!!!"

telling sugar and pete goes exactly as expected. sugar is so excited that their baby boy will have a cousin close in age to grow up with. "don't cry, pete," you all groan. (@carmensberzattos and I have a headcanon about this headcanon that sugar had a boy and named him michael 😭 and of course she asked carmy if it was ok before staking claim over the name).

while your first trimester is ROUGH, the fog begins to clear as you enter your second trimester. as your hormones change, the morning sickness is quickly replaced by a high sex drive and carmy can't get enough. it's everything: your hair is thicker, the pregnancy boobs are incredible, there's a glow about you and you just can't keep your hands off of him. the fact that he knows that you're carrying his child drives him absolutely wild. he is more than happy to help out when you're begging him to fuck you morning, noon, and night.

however, carmy gets all kinds of flustered when anyone else but you catches wind of how much sex you've been having. one day he shows up late to the restaurant and richie is laughing his ass of. "what's up?" "nothin'. just that you're late because you're gettin' some, cousin." and carmy is blushing beet red all the way down to his toes as richie shakes his head and says, "men can never resist a pregnant woman, cousin. tiff was the same way."

he comes home and grumbles about the long day he's had since richie's been so unprofessional all damn day. "so he knows you're gettin' some. what's the big deal, bear?" you ask him. "the big deal is... richie doesn't know when to shut the fuck up!" he huffs. "i hate to break it to you, baby, but i doubt anyone thinks you knocked me up by way of immaculate conception," you laugh, cheekily while running a hand over your belly, and he's blushing again.

ok but why is wearing overalls (in general, but also) while pregnant such a vibe?! you have a pair for your gardening and farm work, but your overall and dress collection expands dramatically when you start showing because all you want to do is be comfy.

you get an insatiable craving for trashy chicken nuggets. mcdonald's, sonic, dino nuggets made in the air fryer (or even just in the microwave), you name it! marcus makes fun of you considering you're married to a james beard award winning chef and yet all you want is fried chicken. carmy begins making you your own nugget sauces because, while he can't flip the bear into a drive-thru fast food chain, he CAN make a mean buffalo sauce, a homemade ranch, or a fancy beet ketchup.

you want to give the baby something gender neutral that you can refer to them as, still undecided about whether or not you want to find out. it slips out one day while carmy is talking to your belly before bed (because of course pete told him that was something he should do) and you're both a freaking mess when carmy calls them baby bear for the first time.

speaking of pete, he sees fatherhood as another way to connect with carmy. it's sweet, but in classic pete fashion, he's a tries a little too hard. he's in love with being a father and is more than happy to lend carmy books, recruit him for a daddy & me bootcamp, and asking the both of you if you want to hold his baby michael every chance he gets. while sugar pretends that she hates it (she loves it) you're more than happy to leave carmy with pete for the day. sure, it's annoying, and sure pete's A LOT, but it really IS sweet.

sugar insists on throwing you a baby shower and pete offers to help the two of you find a bigger apartment since you'll need more room. you decide to strike while the iron is hot (aka while you have the energy to) and the two of you move to a bigger unit in your building. you're most definitely wearing overalls and you're most definitely beginning to show. carmy doesn't want to let you lift anything where you have to remind him that you're pregnant, not breakable (which, still doesn't put his mind at ease). regardless, marcus, gary, sugar, and pete all come to help the two of you move on a saturday. (sydney is running a whole new damn restaurant so she's busy or she'd be there but she makes sure to send food over and stops by later to check in that night).

liz & maya send you the sweetest gift: a crocheted onesie with 'baby bear' embroidered on the front, while your parents have already purchased grandma and grandpa merch. they're on the first flight out as soon as soon as you and carmy facetime them and tell them the news.

carmy never misses a single doctor's appointment. it doesn't matter what shift he has to call out of or who he has to call in a favor with, he will be there. you have ultrasound photos everywhere: taped to the fridge, in your planner, in carmy's office at the restaurant, functioning as a bookmark in one of your books.

marcus runs a mean campaign to be godfather that would give any presidential candidate a run for their money. richie competes with him, partially just to stir the pot, and carmy has to talk him down, reminding him that he got to be the witness in your wedding. you make the argument that if anything ever happened to the two of you, you'd want your baby to grow up with a pastry chef for a parent-figure. "dark..." richie comments, shooting you a look, while you shrug it off with a laugh. "that was dark, babe," carmy says, nervously. "yeah the concept of godparents is dark, honey," you point out.

after going back and forth about it, you and carmy decide that you do want to know the gender of baby bear after all. when you finally share your decision with your OB, she's more than excited to share with you that you're having a girl. you and carmy, both teary-eyed, stare up at the ultrasound and declare that it's a new chapter for the berzatto family.

#social media au #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto headcanon #the bear headcanon #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #comfort and chaos #still into you #make my heart surrender #Carmy as your baby daddy

[gimmethatagustd]

venor (12) | kth + jjk

The barista at the university’s café keeps telling Jungkook not to come back, but Jungkook is too busy daydreaming about kissing the beauty marks on his face to be paying attention to his warnings.

○ Pairing: Tiger!Taehyung x Bunny!Jungkook

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: Hybrids, predator/prey, college au, strangers to lovers, slow burn, fluff, light angst, eventual smut

○ Word Count: 7,862

○ Warnings: Time for y'all to judge me for my smut writing, loss of virginity, blow job, what the gworlies call self-lubrication aka slick, Taehyung's got a big dick (in every universe imo), size difference, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, anal fingering, unprotected anal sex, alcohol, scenting, marking, self-esteem issues, jealousy, pet names

○ Notes: This is cliche and cute and smutty (don't @ me, I warned you in advance) and 2 days late 😌

○ Post Date: April 2, 2024

○ Masterlist | AO3 Cross-Post

○ What was Jai listening to? The series playlist

Series Masterlist

“Considering everything you’ve put me through, I feel like I shouldn’t have to be here right now.”

The glare that Yoongi gives Jungkook is scary enough to rival the biggest, meanest predator hybrid on campus. It has been three weeks since Yoongi suffered through Jungkook and Taehyung’s little not PG date night, and he still won’t let it go, despite Jungkook’s numerous apologies — both verbal and in the form of sweets— which Jungkook surely thought Yoongi would accept by now. At this point, Jungkook doesn’t know if he should still be embarrassed by the fact that his roommate heard him loudly orgasm or if he should be annoyed that Yoongi won’t stop talking about it.

“Oh, come on, hyung! This is fun!”

“Is it?” Yoongi scowls.

Hooking his arm around Yoongi’s, Jungkook practically drags him through the front doors of the university’s basketball arena. The building is massive and packed with fans hurrying through the ticket lines to get to their seats as the announcer’s deep voice booms over the speakers. The announcement lets everyone know that the game is about to start. For as many months as Jungkook has been getting to know Taehyung, it’s surprising that this is his first time watching Taehyung play.

“Jungkook-ah! Yoongi oppa!”

Suyun waves her arms from where she stands in the lobby, past the ticket lines. She’s so small that Jungkook nearly loses her in the crowd once he and Yoongi have finally made it through the line, their printed tickets clutched between their fists. Luckily, her ears make it easy to relocate her.

“Yay, I’m so excited!” Suyun throws herself into Jungkook and Yoongi to squeeze them together in a hug her scrawny arms can barely maintain. “Let’s hurry up! They’re already playing.”

The sea of college students and locals eager to watch a Saturday evening basketball game against the university’s biggest rival pushes the three friends in waves down the arena’s wide hallways. It’s hard for Jungkook to keep up with where he’s going, easily getting confused by each rounded corner they turn and how everyone looks the same in their white and blue clothing to match the university’s colors. Occasionally, splotches of red and black are in the mix, but the rival’s fans are sparse. Even Jungkook knew how to dress the part, wearing a pair of powder blue overalls with one strap undone and hanging forward to expose more of the white sweater underneath and his all-white Converse. The 90s chic look might make him sweat down to his balls, but he looks cute, and that’s what matters.

“Is our basketball team really that big of a deal?” Yoongi asks, unable to hide the genuine curiosity that seeps through his words.

“How have you gone to school here for four years without knowing, oppa?”

Suyun clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth with a shake of her head as she guides Jungkook and Yoongi down the crowded halls until they reach a large, open doorway. At least Jungkook isn’t the only one new to this.

Thousands of fans are packed in the seats consisting of three separate levels circling the basketball court in the middle of the room. When Jungkook tilts his head back, he thinks he can see people nearly in the building’s rafters. It’s all very overwhelming, but there’s a sense of comradery that makes his body tingle. It’s cool to be part of something bigger than himself! And it especially feels cool knowing that all these people are here to see his Taehyung play.

“Jackson got us really good seats,” Suyun explains as she continues leading them through the crowd, though it’s not as busy down here on the ground level. “They aren’t courtside, but they might as well be.”

Their seats are only a few rows from the court, meaning Jungkook has a clear view of the basketball players huddled around men in suits, who he assumes are the coaching staff. From the huddle, Jungkook spots Jackson’s bushy orange tail and the silvery glint of Hoseok’s scales in the arena’s fluorescent lighting. As he takes his seat in between Suyun and Yoongi, Jungkook searches for the mop of coppery curls he loves so much.

Taehyung spots him first. Having been blocked by another player, Taehyung steps to the side just far enough to see around the huddled group and straight into Jungkook’s wide eyes.

Hey bun, Taehyung mouths to Jungkook with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Waving shyly, Jungkook tries to shoo Taehyung away so he’ll pay attention to whatever his coach is saying. Of course, Taehyung doesn’t listen. Instead, he elbows one of the players standing next to him. Jungkook watches with hot cheeks as Taehyung leans in to say something to the other player before turning to point at Jungkook.

Stop it, Jungkook mouths back, waving Taehyung off again.

The buzzer sounds, notifying the teams that the game is resuming. Taehyung blows a kiss at Jungkook before spinning around to get into place on the court.

“What position is Taehyung?” Yoongi asks over the roar of the crowd as the game advances.

“Point guard,” comes a response from Jungkook’s right. He and Yoongi turn to see a face that has become more familiar over the past few weeks.

“Hi, Jimin hyung,” Jungkook has to project his voice to greet the calico cat hybrid when the crowd boos after the rival team makes a basket.

“Jungkook-ah, Yoongi hyung.”

Jimin nods curtly before slinking into his seat beside Suyun, who immediately scratches behind one of his splotchy, multicolored ears. He sticks his arm down the row of seats to offer a large bag of popcorn, which Yoongi declines, but Jungkook takes a handful of the buttery goodness.

Like most domestic cats, it takes Jimin a while to become comfortable with strangers, so he has only recently started hanging out with Jungkook whenever Taehyung and Hoseok invite them to their apartment. Yoongi’s presence seems to help Jimin feel at ease, perhaps because of their shared prey hybrid species. It’s cute how aloof they are; Jungkook doesn’t know why he finds them so endearing, especially Jimin, who always seems to look simultaneously bored and conniving.

“What does a point guard do?” Jungkook asks between chewing his popcorn. He directs his question to Suyun, though Jimin may also know the answer. Yoongi is just as hopeless as Jungkook.

“Honestly, I don’t really understand all the rules…” Suyun admits sheepishly. “I think it’s Taehyung’s job to help set up the other players so they have the best opportunities to score. He’s always shouting things and telling everyone where to go when he passes the ball and stuff.”

Pride swells in Jungkook’s chest when he sits back to watch the game, knowing that his Taehyung plays an important role. Of course, all the players do, but not all the players are Taehyung, and Taehyung is the one who matters most. Obviously.

“It fits Taehyung. He’s so bossy,” Jimin rolls his eyes and tosses a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“Is he?” Jungkook has never felt like Taehyung is bossy, but the annoyed look on Jimin’s face tells another story.

“So bossy. But all predators are, aren’t they?”

Yoongi snorts a resounding, “Yeah, they are,” while Suyun insists, “They’re not all like that.”

“Jackson doesn’t count,” Jimin licks his buttery lips, “He’s so whipped for you.”

“And Taehyung is whipped for Jungkookie,” Suyun giggles at Jungkook’s pink face.

“Let’s just watch the game…” Jungkook angrily scrunches his nose and glares at his friends until there’s more shouting from the crowd, and he quickly turns back to the court to see what he’s missed.

For the rest of the game, Jungkook won’t take his eyes off Taehyung, who spends it sprinting up and down the court, only taking a few breaks. He looks good in their university’s blue basketball uniform. The sleeveless jersey shows off the definition of his arms, especially when he raises them and bends them at the elbow to prepare to shoot or rushes down the court while dribbling the basketball. There’s too much distance between them to tell, but Jungkook is sure all the movement has made Taehyung’s veins raise slightly in his forearms — an occurrence capable of causing Jungkook ultimate psychological damage if he witnesses it up close. It’s good that Jackson got them seats that aren’t too close.

There aren’t many timeouts, but Taehyung takes advantage of the few scattered throughout the game to wink at Jungkook and blow him kisses. It makes Jungkook feel warm and fuzzy inside, something unordinary and special, like Taehyung is some kind of celebrity and Jungkook is the fan he’s fallen in love with. Unfortunately, his little dreamworld is rudely interrupted by obnoxious squealing.

“Did Kim Taehyung just blow a kiss at you?”

“I don’t know!”

“Oh my god, he totally did!”

Jungkook turns around to look at the group of girls sitting in the row behind him. Interestingly, the group is a mix of predator and prey hybrids, which Jungkook would usually find cute, but the current circumstances sour that realization. There’s no way these girls can possibly think that his Taehyung would be showering them with affection, girls he doesn’t even personally know! It takes everything in Jungkook’s power to slowly turn back around and stamp down the ugly feeling of jealousy that eats away at him like acid in his gut. He felt this once before, when Taehyung spoke with his friend in the library, and he hates it just as much now as he had then.

“You good, kid?” Yoongi asks with a flick of his tail against Jungkook’s arm to get his attention.

“Mhm…”

Jungkook’s response isn’t convincing, but the game is nearly over, and Yoongi can’t interrogate him in the middle of a basketball arena, so Yoongi lets the conversation go. The girls’ comments are harmless, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t important. To Jungkook, they’re a reminder of the one thing he desperately craves from Taehyung and still doesn’t know how to ask for: commitment.

Their university wins because of an iconic three-point basket made by Hoseok right before time runs out. The entire arena erupts in screaming and chants of his name—including Yoongi, whom Jungkook has never seen so animated. It’s cute, and it makes Jungkook wonder why Yoongi agreed to attend the basketball game with him.

It takes a while after the game ends for the players to return from the locker rooms. Jungkook, Suyun, Yoongi, and Jimin stand around the side of the basketball court, finishing up the last of Jimin’s popcorn and passing around an extra-large soda Suyun convinced Yoongi to pay for during the game’s halftime. It isn’t a sufficient dinner considering the group plans to go out drinking after this, but part of Jungkook was hoping that the guys on the team would be too tired to go out. Although Jungkook has yet to experience the city’s nightlife, he thinks he’d rather get cozy in bed with Taehyung and spend the rest of the night with each other. It’s Suyun and Jackson’s fault that everyone has jumped onto the idea of clubbing; it’s always their fault if the plans include drinking. Little, quiet Suyun! Jungkook never knew he was missing out on this side of her personality until he started hanging out with predator hybrids.

The first player to return is the one Jungkook has ignored all night. Byungchul has made himself scarce ever since the altercation at Jackson’s house. Although Jungkook is no longer angry or afraid, he’s still uncomfortable, and that’s enough to not want to be near Byungchul if he doesn’t have to be. So, when he realizes that Byungchul is heading straight for him, Jungkook finds it difficult to look him in the eyes.

“Hi,” Byungchul greets the floor once he approaches Jungkook, also avoiding eye contact.

Trying not to sound mean or defensive, Jungkook is quiet and slow when he responds, “Hello…”

Byungchul’s gray wolf tail hangs so low that it drags on the floor and his ears are flat to his head and only visible because the gray fur stands out against his black hair. His hair and fur are wet from showering in the locker room, and he’s wearing a university-branded tracksuit and a backpack thrown over one shoulder. Despite being much bigger than Jungkook, he looks small.

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry I was such an asshole to you and your friends. And, well, my friends, too,” Byungchul takes a deep breath and finally meets Jungkook’s gaze. His expression is softer than Jungkook has ever seen; the typically harsh, almost hateful look melted away into something less severe and almost… sad.

“No one put me up to this or anything,” Byungchul continues, “I was being a dick, and it fucked with the team’s dynamic, and, I don’t know, I realized it was all stupid. I know Suyun and Jimin are cool. And you must be cool if hyung likes you so much.”

Byungchul pauses for a moment to give Yoongi a strange look, with his eyebrows furrowed and his head slightly tilted to one side.

“I have no idea who you are, but, uh, I’m sure you’re cool, too.”

With a snort and a roll of his eyes, Yoongi mutters, “Cooler than any of you will ever be,” before walking off to throw away the empty soda cup.

“Anyway, yeah, that’s… that’s all I wanted to say.”

“Thank you for apologizing,” Jungkook says with heated cheeks because his senses alert him to the presence of Taehyung returning from the locker room with Hoseok and Jackson.

Byungchul must also grow shy from the sudden audience because he doesn’t say anything else. With a slight bow of his head, he bids everyone a silent goodbye and jogs over to a few other players hanging out by the exit, waiting for him. It’s odd to see Byungchul so quiet and not the boisterous, aggressive bully he wanted to make himself seem like. Despite understanding that Byungchul behaved from a place of insecurity, Jungkook is still confused by him. Jungkook can’t imagine ever wanting to make himself out to be a bad guy.

“Everyone alright?” Hoseok asks as he approaches the quiet group of prey hybrids.

Almost immediately, Jimin breaks away from the other prey to latch himself to Hoseok’s side, giving Taehyung a pinch on his arm on his way over.

“Jimin-ah!” Taehyung swats at the calico with a hiss, and Jungkook can’t help but giggle when Jimin hisses right back. Cats. How has Jungkook managed to surround himself with them?

“Byungchul apologized to Jungkook,” Suyun explains as she beckons for Yoongi to hurry up before the group leaves.

“Shocking, really,” Jimin says with a smirk, “Considering how big predators’ egos are, I can’t imagine how difficult it must be to find the capacity for empathy.”

Rather than be offended, Hoseok snickers. His laughter is a strange mix of hisses and giggles, making Jimin’s smirk morph into something a little closer to a genuine smile.

Jungkook isn’t the best at reading people’s scents to determine their moods, but he has lived with Yoongi long enough to tell when he’s getting worked up for whatever reason. The sour spike in Yoongi’s citrus scent doesn’t match the blush that paints his cheeks when Jimin begins openly scenting Hoseok by nuzzling his neck.

“Ugh, enough of Byungchul, I’m so tired of talking about all that bullshit,” Jackson groans. “Who needs a ride to my place? I can fit four other people.”

They’re all grown adults in college, but it takes counting on their fingers to figure out who goes in which car. Taehyung doesn’t bother worrying about it; he’s got his eyes on Jungkook while everyone else plans their next moves for the night. Jungkook tries not to stare at him, and he’s even proud of himself for not latching onto him — mainly because Jungkook promised Yoongi that he wouldn’t leave him alone with all the couples doing coupley things like a seventh wheel.

“Taehyung,” Hoseok pushes him on the shoulder for not paying attention. “Is it cool if you and Jungkook drive together?”

Taehyung’s grin is boxy and boyish when he replies, “I mean, I guess.”

Jungkook and Taehyung walk back to Taehyung’s dorm while their friends clamber into Jackson’s car. Whereas Jackson already showered in the arena’s locker room, Hoseok is too disgusted by the idea of showering where “who knows how many other athletes have showered,” and Taehyung is too married to his skincare regime to shower anywhere other than in his own bathroom. They split up, allowing Hoseok to get ready for the night at Jackson’s house and Taehyung the ease of not needing to share the bathroom in their apartment.

Jungkook is just happy to go wherever Taehyung goes.

“Did you have fun?” Taehyung asks with his lips pressed against the soft fur of Jungkook’s bunny ear. It tickles, and Jungkook tries to escape, but Taehyung’s arm is draped over his shoulders to pull him back in.

“Mhm, I had no idea what was going on, though,” Jungkook admits, laughing lightly when he remembers Suyun and Jimin trying to explain the rules, only for Yoongi to look them up online and find that they were wrong.

“I should have prepped you beforehand.”

Jungkook shrugs.

“We should play together instead. I think I could beat you.”

Taehyung steps away from Jungkook to open the front door of the residence hall. He gives Jungkook a shocked look, eyebrows raised, and one corner of his mouth tweaked into a half-smirk.

“Oh, really? You think you could?”

Jungkook pushes past Taehyung and leads them to the stairwell, skipping the elevator like always.

“I probably work out more than you,” Jungkook purposely gives Taehyung a long, hard look that drags from his feet to the fuzzy, striped ears on his head. “I’m strong and definitely more agile than you are.”

It’s all fun and games, just silly shit-talking until Taehyung gets that wild look in his eyes. Jungkook spins on his heel and launches himself up the stairs, taking them two at a time, knowing Taehyung is right behind him. He has the advantage of being lighter on his feet and not having been playing sports for nearly two hours straight, so he manages to scramble up the stairs without getting snatched until they’re outside Taehyung’s apartment door.

“Did you forget I’m a cute little bunny?” Jungkook teases through his heavy breathing, which matches Taehyung’s panting. “Hopping up the stairs is easy. I’ve got a good bounce to me.”

Pressed with his back against the door, Jungkook looks up into Taehyung’s eyes with his chin raised and a smug look on his face that quickly falters when Taehyung says,

“You bouncing sounds fun.”

“Ah, open the door, Tae!” Jungkook shoves Taehyung in the chest, forcing him to give Jungkook space to move away from the door. “You’re gross.”

Chuckling, Taehyung does as he’s told. 

“I’m going to shower now, but I’ll be quick,” Taehyung murmurs with a kiss on Jungkook’s forehead, his short exhale ruffling Jungkook’s bangs.

Jungkook smiles in response as Taehyung disappears through the bathroom door. Once the door clicks shut, he turns around and retreats into Taehyung’s bedroom. He likes the feel of Taehyung’s bedroom the most out of all the rooms in the apartment. The green walls and plants and earth-toned furniture are comforting. There must be some psychology about why natural hues induce relaxation in hybrids; Jungkook is sure it’s part of their biology. Or perhaps he feels relaxed as he flops onto his stomach on the bed because the comforter smells like Taehyung, and he can already sense how their scents dance around each other, mixing to create the aroma of peaceful spring rain. Perhaps Jungkook’s sense of comfort is a little bit of both, a combination of nature and nurture.

Catching himself metaphorically drooling over Taehyung yet again, Jungkook gives himself permission to keep gushing over the boy in his head. When Jungkook started getting to know Taehyung, he was a starry-eyed, silly bunny determined to crack the mysterious tiger’s hard exterior. Now, he sees Taehyung for what he really is: a quiet, somewhat reserved boy who feels deeply and has a heart of gold. 

As for Jungkook, he doesn’t think he’s very different from the bunny he was when he first transferred all those months ago. His identity hasn’t changed much, but how he thinks about himself has. He’s still starry-eyed and silly, but he’s confident in his desire to be a kind and accepting person, and he no longer worries about being considered naive.

Jungkook props himself up on Taehyung’s pillow as he sprawls out on the bed, phone in hand, to scroll through his phone for music to play on Taehyung’s speaker while he waits for Taehyung to finish showering. Most of his recent music has been random lofi playlists Taehyung showed him, perfect for relaxing or studying. Those don’t seem particularly fitting to prepare to go clubbing, so Jungkook searches for a playlist with a decent mix of mainstream hip-hop and pop songs to bop his head along to while he aimlessly scrolls through social media.

It’s still early, and Jungkook is sure that the rest of their friends will take a while to get ready, even with Jackson’s house having multiple bathrooms. Luckily, Suyun and Yoongi were already prepared to go out after the game; it’s the basketball players and Jimin who should be concerned about taking too long.

Jungkook can’t help but giggle when he thinks about his friends, particularly his poor Yoongi hyung, squished between Hoseok and Jimin in the backseat of Jackson’s car. He looked terrified — with his orange tail clutched in one hand to prevent anyone from accidentally sitting on it and his ears flattened against his hair — as if he didn’t love having two pretty boys trying to talk to him all night. 

With the right amount of alcohol, Yoongi will loosen up enough to enjoy himself despite going out not being high on his list of favorite things to do. It might not even be high on Jungkook’s list of favorite things to do, but considering he hasn’t ever gone clubbing before, he’s not sure. All he knows is that Taehyung is responsible for ensuring he doesn’t get messy, as Suyun said. 

Not long after Jungkook texts Yoongi and Suyun to confirm which nightclub Jackson wants everyone to meet up at, he hears the bathroom door open. Taehyung is always light on his feet, hardly making a sound as he walks down the hallway. Sneaky, a quality not uncommon for a predator hybrid.

Pushing himself up, Jungkook settles for sitting in the middle of Taehyung’s bed and turns toward the door when Taehyung crosses the threshold.

“Jackson said we should go to…”

Jungkook trails off, the name of the nightclub escaping out of his brain through his ears like all his common sense and body’s ability to remember how to breathe. Frozen in place, the only things that move on Jungkook are his throat when he swallows, despite how dry his mouth has gotten, and his eyes that follow Taehyung to his closet.

Seeing Taehyung shirtless isn’t shocking; they’ve slept in the same bed a few times, and Taehyung usually sleeps shirtless. Seeing Taehyung wearing only a fluffy white towel that sits low on his hips, with a few stray beads of water trickling down his chest and his copper hair slicked back away from his face… seeing that is more than Jungkook’s little soul can bear.

When Jungkook doesn’t speak, Taehyung turns around to look at him, his forehead wrinkled with worry lines.

“Bun? Go where?”

Heat climbs up Jungkook’s neck like scorching pinpricks in his skin when he realizes he has forgotten what he was supposed to say. It takes everything in his power to stare into Taehyung’s eyes instead of at the swell of his pecs and how his arms flex as he sorts through the clothes hanging in his closet.

“Um,” Jungkook quickly looks down at his phone, using clumsy fingers to open Suyun and Yoongi’s text messages. If he doesn’t chill out, he’s going to lose to his naturally horny bunny instincts, and he cannot do that right now. “Singularity. That’s the, uh…”

“Club?” Taehyung offers, one corner of his mouth twitching like he wants to smile or laugh but is holding it in.

“Yes.”

“Do you know what time?”

Jungkook keeps his head down, using his ears and bangs to hide from Taehyung as he sorts through his text messages with trembling thumbs. He needs to calm down before he embarrasses himself.

“Suyun said thirty minutes, but Yoongi hyung said an hour,” Jungkook responds after deep breaths. “I’d trust hyung more, honestly.”

The slide of Taehyung’s fingers in Jungkook’s hair makes him look up from his phone. He tilts his head back far enough that he can look directly into Taehyung’s eyes — and not at his crotch, which is much closer to Jungkook’s face now that Taehyung stands at the edge of the bed.

“That’s enough time,” Taehyung reassures as he massages the base of Jungkook’s ears. The gentle caresses make Jungkook’s eyes flutter.

“Enough time for what?” Jungkook asks and leans into Taehyung’s touch.

Using his grip on Jungkook’s hair, Taehyung guides Jungkook closer until he’s kneeling on the bed in front of Taehyung, making it easier for Taehyung to whisper his response against Jungkook’s lips,

“For me to help you find new pants.”

Huffing, Jungkook tries to voice a complaint, embarrassed that it seems Taehyung will never let this terrible joke die, but Taehyung slots their lips together faster than Jungkook can keep up. 

Taehyung isn’t slow this time, and although he keeps his promise of being gentle, there’s more force in how he handles Jungkook as if he’s no longer concerned about scaring him. He digs his fingers into Jungkook’s silky black hair and tugs on the strands, not harshly, but enough to force Jungkook to tilt his head to the side so Taehyung can deepen the kiss. It’s wet and hot, Taehyung shoving his tongue in Jungkook’s mouth, curling his tongue around Jungkook’s like he curls his arm around his waist to pull him closer. 

“I can smell it on you,” Taehyung murmurs when he moves to nuzzle Jungkook’s throat, dragging his nose and pink lips along his soft skin. 

“W-What?” 

“How turned on you are. Don’t need you to get wet to know.” 

Taehyung bites Jungkook’s neck just above the scent gland where a mating bite is meant to go. Jungkook’s neck has been littered with deep red, almost purple, bruises ever since that night Taehyung lost control of himself. Jungkook thinks it’s another way for Taehyung to claim him, like mating bites that disappear rather than stay forever. Yoongi’s warning about mating echoes in Jungkook’s mind when Taehyung bites him again with enough pressure to leave an intent in his skin but not enough for it to hurt. 

It feels good. Jungkook whimpers as he hesitantly grabs the back of Taehyung’s head to keep him against his neck when he tries to pull away. 

“Shit,” Taehyung groans, and goosebumps spring up along Jungkook’s skin when he scrapes his teeth against his throat, “You like that? Like it when I leave marks on you?” 

Jungkook nods with his eyes fluttering closed, just a small hum in response. 

“Want me to bite you?” Taehyung’s warm, hypnotizing voice draws Jungkook in. It’s low and soothing, with a tantalizing edge that makes a shudder run through Jungkook’s body. 

“Please,” Jungkook whispers as Taehyung trails kisses along his jaw. 

“Want me to mate you, bun? Make you mine?” 

Tugging Taehyung’s hair, Jungkook pulls him backward until they both fall onto the bed with Jungkook on his back and Taehyung hovering over him. 

“Yes, Tae,” Jungkook begs, hardly knowing what he’s saying but can’t stop himself, as though Taehyung has genuinely hypnotized him. His voice is frantic, breathy, and pathetic like he needs it.

“Mmm, you know I can’t,” Taehyung smiles against the apple of Jungkook’s cheek, opening his mouth slightly to press his blunt front teeth there, too. “You naughty bunny. Don’t even know what you’re asking me.” 

Taehyung muffles Jungkook’s whine with his mouth, sucking his tongue with a slight bob to his head as he reaches with one hand in between their bodies to unclasp the other strap of Jungkook’s overalls. Pulling the flap down, he slips his hand beneath Jungkook’s sweater to run his fingers along his warm skin.

“Why are your clothes so complicated?” Taehyung leans back to kneel between Jungkook’s legs, which are bent at the knees and spread open to accommodate him.

“It’s a cute outfit,” Jungkook pouts, making Taehyung’s huffy expression blossom into a boyish grin.

“You do look really cute. I couldn’t stop looking at you.”

“I noticed.”

Taehyung’s slow curl of his fingers around the waist of Jungkook’s overalls is a silent request. Jungkook’s raise of his hips is the silent granting of permission.

“Almost fucked up that free throw because I could hear you cheering for me.”

Too distracted by what Taehyung is doing, Jungkook can’t bring himself to protest Taehyung’s accusations. How dare Taehyung blame him when all he was trying to do was give Taehyung encouragement! The complaint is lost, gently brushed to the side by Taehyung’s gentle caresses as he helps Jungkook take off the rest of his clothes, leaving a pile of white and powder blue amongst the swath of browns and greens that is his bedroom.

“You’re cute, but you’re also beautiful,” Taehyung’s tone is soft, as are his touches as he runs his hands up and down Jungkook’s bare torso.

It’s the first time Jungkook has been fully naked in front of Taehyung, in front of anyone. He thought he would be more nervous, that he would be petrified by insecurities. Instead, he feels heat spreading through his body, little fires burning in his chest and the inside of his thighs, like electrical sparks setting off flames in his veins. The longer Taehyung stares at his body, exploring it with light fingertips that flick his brown, perky nipples and skate across his hip bones, the hotter the fires burn.

Jungkook knows he’s attractive; people have always praised him for being pretty. But Jungkook doesn’t want to be pretty or cute; he wants to be hot, like the heat Taehyung’s gaze stirs inside him.

Leaning forward, Taehyung sucks one of Jungkook’s nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it to hear the weak whimper that the action elicits from Jungkook.

“Ahh, Tae,” Jungkook curves his spine to press his chest against Taehyung’s mouth and digs his fingers in his damp hair when Taehyung lets go of one nipple to drag his lips across his sternum, sucking and licking the other once he reaches it.

“Hoseok hyung isn’t home,” Taehyung murmurs against Jungkook’s chest as he tosses his towel onto the floor.

Initially, the comment doesn’t sink in for Jungkook. He’s caught up in the wet kisses Taehyung plants down his stomach and the wave of slick-inducing pleasure that overtakes him when Taehyung takes his cock in his mouth. It takes barely any time for Taehyung to suck Jungkook until he’s fully hard, and it isn’t until he’s guiding Jungkook to turn around on his hands and knees when it finally hits him.

No one else is home.

The moan Taehyung coaxes out of Jungkook when he presses two fingers into his hole is uninhibited because there’s no one to offend by how loud he is. His moans come out stunted and quick with every thrust of Taehyung’s fingers. Eventually, they stretch out and shift into a higher pitch once Taehyung finds his prostate and focuses on pressing that spot every time he fucks into him with his fingers.

“You’re so wet, I don’t even think you need any prep,” Taehyung groans as he inserts a third finger.

Jungkook lowers onto his forearms to press his forehead against the mattress, unable to keep himself up when his arms shake so severely. He does his best to rock with Taehyung’s movements but is too embarrassed by how uncoordinated he is compared to Taehyung.

“It feels good,” Jungkook sighs when Taehyung pulls his fingers out.

“Yeah?”

Nodding, Jungkook twists around to meet Taehyung’s dark gaze. He’s got that look again, ardent and wild, with dilated pupils and his scent so strong that Jungkook can imagine the two of them getting lost in a thunderstorm of Taehyung’s making. It stirs that primal urge to run, to get away from the predator that drapes his body over Jungkook’s, pressing him into the mattress on his stomach so he can grind his cock in between his cheeks with practiced precision.

“What do you want, bun?” Taehyung’s breath comes out in hot puffs against Jungkook’s neck.

What does Jungkook want?

He digs his fingers into the bed sheets and turns his head to the side so Taehyung can kiss him. Each smooth, slow roll of Taehyung’s hips against his ass gently pushes him up the bed. It feels so good, even though the nerves about what they’re doing are finally starting to kick in. He can hardly breathe when Taehyung nips at his neck where his scent gland is.

What does Jungkook want?

“I want you.”

Taehyung’s hips still. He nuzzles his face further into Jungkook’s neck and leaves kisses there, each one planted on top of the sore hickeys he’d bitten and sucked onto Jungkook’s skin. There are so many reminders of the commitment they could have, but neither will offer out loud.

“Want me to fuck you, Jungkook?” His name sounds rough, coming from Taehyung, like a growl pulled from deep inside his chest.

“Please.”

Pressing his forehead to Jungkook’s shoulder, Taehyung whispers a quiet “Fuck,” before sitting back on his knees.

“I want you to ride me.”

It’s a command, even though it’s spoken softly. Jungkook could say no if he wanted to; he knows Taehyung would respect him. But he also feels like his instincts tell him that he must obey this predator who looms over him with a hungry glint in his eyes.

“I won’t be good,” Jungkook mutters as Taehyung trades places with him. He’s gorgeous, laid out on the bed, honey gold skin against white sheets, and his hair dry enough to start getting fluffy and poofy atop his head. Jungkook may be gorgeous, too, but he’s inadequate in other ways.

“What do you mean?” Taehyung leans slightly to reach for Jungkook, guiding him to straddle his hips like before.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, and you’ve…”

“I’ve what?”

Biting his lip, Jungkook looks off into the room, his eyes landing on his reflection in the darkened window. Seeing a distorted image of himself on top of Taehyung makes him even more nervous.

“You’ve had sex with other people before,” Jungkook says quietly.

“Bun,” Taehyung squeezes Jungkook’s tiny waist and glides his palms upward until they rest on his chest. “This is about me and you, that’s it. The other people are in the past for a reason. And I’d never judge you. You’re so perfect, Jungkook. You do it for me just by being you. I don’t care about you being ‘good’ or ‘bad’ or whatever. You’re you, and that’s enough, alright?”

Jungkook rests his hands on Taehyung’s and keeps them cradled to his chest when he nods in understanding. Maybe he’s naive, but he believes Taehyung, even though his insecurities tell him not to.

“I want you to ride me so you can determine our pace, okay?” Taehyung explains, and Jungkook nods again. “You can control how much you take, so you’re more comfortable. If I’m on top, I might hurt you.”

A bit of primal fear returns, spiking through Jungkook’s fiery veins with a shot of ice. Although they joke around about their differences, the reality is that Taehyung is bigger and stronger than Jungkook. He genuinely could hurt him, especially with this being Jungkook’s first time.

Choosing to trust him, Jungkook lets go of Taehyung’s hands so he can rest them on Jungkook’s waist. It feels nice having Taehyung’s hands there, like a comforting pressure to remind Jungkook that he has someone to support him through this.

“Okay,” Jungkook confirms breathily, with a sigh. “Okay. I’m ready.”

He wants to be sexy, but he doesn’t know if he can be when he’s trembling with nerves along with excitement. Taehyung genuinely doesn’t seem to mind. He rubs Jungkook’s sides, lightly dragging his nails across his ribs and occasionally brushing over his nipples while Jungkook works up the courage to do this.

“Do you want me to help? I can sit up and—”

“No!” Jungkook blushes from his sudden outburst, but Taehyung just grins.

“Alright, alright,” Taehyung says, lying back and crossing his arms behind his head. “I’ll be over here minding my own business.”

Something about the nonchalant pose makes Jungkook’s stomach flip, and not just because it makes Taehyung’s biceps bulge. Forcing himself out of that mindset, Jungkook presses his palm against Taehyung’s chest to steady himself as he leans forward, lifting onto his knees.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Taehyung murmurs as Jungkook reaches behind himself to gently grab Taehyung’s cock. He keeps his promise by staying still and letting Jungkook guide his cock, slippery with Jungkook’s slick, to his hole.

Jungkook is so wet that he takes Taehyung’s cock much easier than he expected, even with how thick it is. Still, it’s a lot, especially for a prey hybrid’s first time, and Jungkook’s body trembles as he sinks further down, taking it slow like Taehyung told him to.

“Tae,” Jungkook whimpers once Taehyung is fully inside him.

“Fuck, look at you.” Taehyung runs his palms up Jungkook’s thighs until he reaches his waist, giving him a light squeeze. “How do you feel, bun?”

“You’re big,” Jungkook’s voice trembles as severely as his body.

“Mmm,” Taehyung smirks, wild eyes sparkling despite their darkness. “That’s what I like to hear.”

Playfully hitting Taehyung’s firm chest with his fist, Jungkook scolds him for his vulgar comment during such a serious moment.

“Oh my god, Tae, shut up.”

Dropping the cocky attitude, Taehyung’s features soften despite maintaining the wild look, still stroking Jungkook’s instinct to run. Taehyung lightly squeezes Jungkook’s hips, pulling him forward just enough to understand the silent cue to start moving if he feels comfortable.

So Jungkook does, at first leaning forward with his hands holding Taehyung’s pecs as he tries rolling his hips. The angle lets him adjust to Taehyung’s size better, slowly easing away the stretch and light discomfort he’d felt earlier until he’s whimpering and calling Taehyung’s name in a rushed chant.

“Lean back a little,” Taehyung instructs as he bends his knees slightly so Jungkook has something to hold onto. “It’ll feel better if my little bunny bounces.”

The bad thing about being on top is that Jungkook can’t hide from Taehyung’s teasing. All he can do is blush until his face is on fire, and then do exactly as Taehyung says, lifting and easing down until he is bouncing on Taehyung’s cock.

“Oh my god, oh god,” Jungkook nearly wails when Taehyung grabs his hands and intertwines their fingers.

“Yeah, fuck yourself on my cock, baby,” Taehyung groans, “You look so pretty, fuck.” He squeezes Jungkook’s hands so tightly that it hurts, but Jungkook doesn’t care because Taehyung didn’t call him bun; he called him baby.

“Again, Tae,” Jungkook gasps, letting his head lull to the side as he moves. “Call me that again.”

Taehyung lets go of Jungkook’s hand and reaches up to wrap his hand around his throat, using his grip to force Jungkook to look at him.

“Hmm? What? Call you baby?”

With a quiet whine, Jungkook nods his head. He doesn’t think he’ll survive the swell of affection he feels inside his chest when Taehyung grins with so much boyish charm and repeats himself,

“Baby, you’re my baby, Jungkook-ah. Didn’t you know?”

“Harder,” Jungkook whispers in response, too overwhelmed to articulate himself in any other way.

That one word is all Taehyung needs, though. His hands find Jungkook’s waist as he plants his feet and thrusts upward, pulling Jungkook down on his cock to meet each thrust. It’s a miracle they found time to be alone, with Jungkook a crying, babbling, moaning mess on top of Taehyung, completely resigned to being a pillow princess who can do nothing but hold on as Taehyung fucks into him. It’s hard and fast, so desperate that Taehyung was otherwise good at hiding. His fingers dig into Jungkook’s hips hard enough to leave bruises that will match the ones scattered across his neck and collarbones, but Jungkook doesn’t care. He likes it.

“Feel good, baby?”

Jungkook nods quickly, not bothering to speak through his sounds of pleasure. He leans forward slightly to slide his hands through Taehyung’s hair and rubs his fuzzy tiger ears once his fingertips brush against them. The deep purr he gets in response makes him touch Taehyung more.

“Gonna cum with me, baby? Can you do that for me?”

He nods again as Taehyung grabs Jungkook’s cock and starts jerking him off at the same pace he fucks him. The buildup of pleasure has Jungkook wound so tightly that it only takes a few pumps before he cums with a loud sob.

“Fuck,” Taehyung hisses, continuing to jerk Jungkook off even when he starts to cry. He doesn’t stop until Jungkook cums for a second time, with Taehyung as he finally finds his release.

Jungkook can feel the moment Taehyung relaxes, when his hungry fervor slowly seeps away and exhaustion takes over. He feels it in himself, too, his arms and legs losing strength until Jungkook thinks he’s just a blob slumped onto Taehyung’s heaving chest.

“I didn’t pass out while conscious,” Jungkook whispers and Taehyung weakly laughs.

“Does that mean I didn’t perform well?”

Taehyung is cheeky and fishing for compliments that Jungkook will gladly give him.

“It was really nice, Tae,” Jungkook speaks against Taehyung’s neck, where he nuzzles his face to scent him despite them being covered in each other’s scents from sex. “I’m happy it was with you.”

There’s so much more Jungkook wants to say, but he can’t. Not now, when it could ruin the moment. Not now, when they must slowly pry themselves from each other and take another shower because Jungkook’s slick and cum are all over them. Later. Jungkook will tell Taehyung later, tell him everything he’s afraid to say as they cram into the shower together and take turns washing each other’s hair.

He promises himself that he’ll tell Taehyung later. 

-

Clubbing isn’t as terrible as Jungkook feared it would be. It’s pretty fun, though he wonders if he’s having a good time because he’s under the spell of a particular tiger hybrid with a dazzling smile and warm eyes that crinkle every time they happen to fall on Jungkook’s from across the room. Jungkook is also drunk, so that could also impact the level of enthusiasm he has when Suyun drags him out onto the dancefloor.

“You look unusually happy,” she shouts over the loud music with a hoarse voice.

“I’m always happy!” Jungkook gives Suyun a deep pout.

“Well, yeah, but like, more than usual!”

Jungkook doesn’t know if there’s such a thing as a post-sex afterglow, but he really hopes that Suyun doesn’t make any connections to what transpired before he and Taehyung arrived at the nightclub. He wonders if Taehyung has already told his friends or if they can tell.

Biting his lip, Jungkook looks away from Suyun’s swaying dance moves and finds Taehyung leaning against the bar with Jackson and the pretty panther predator Jungkook remembers from the library, Ten.

“Oh, I know what it is,” Suyun giggles and gulps half her drink. Jungkook has the same kind, though he doesn’t remember what it is; aside from that, it’s more vodka than anything else.

“What? No, you don’t!” Jungkook shoves Suyun, and she shoves him back until they’re both play-fighting while the other clubbers try to grind on each other. “Stop it!”

“You’re in looooove, Jungkook-ah! You’re all glowy in the face because you’re in love!”

“Shut up!”

“What, are you afraid he’ll hear me?” Suyun’s eyes are large and glazed over when she turns around to look for Taehyung. “Maybe I should tell him for you. TAEHYUNG! JUNGKOOK WANTS YOU TO KNOW THAT—”

Jungkook grabs Suyun’s arm and yanks her hard enough that she stumbles into him, causing the two of them to nearly trip. Some kind stranger struggles to straighten them up, but the damage is done. When Jungkook looks again, Taehyung and Ten are already walking over.

“Suyun, please,” Jungkook pleads with his big, round, starry eyes that typically get him what he wants.

Before he can get Suyun to promise not to completely ruin his life, Taehyung and Ten approach them.

“What’s up, bun?”

Taehyung reaches for Jungkook’s hand and intertwines their fingers. Despite it being an innocent gesture, arousal spikes through his stomach. Just over an hour ago, Taehyung had intertwined their fingers in an entirely different context.

Jungkook feels Taehyung’s tail curl around his calf and playfully tug him, and he’s reminded that Taehyung said Jungkook didn’t need to slick for him to smell his arousal. That knowledge makes him nervous like he’s going to be found out for being a horny freak. Taehyung’s smile is soft and innocent when he looks up, so maybe Jungkook is in the clear.

“Suyun is just being silly,” Jungkook explains, shooting Suyun a look.

Suyun shrugs, “I’m drunk.”

Taehyung snorts and gestures with a nod toward the bar.

“Jackson is over there. You should have him get you some water.”

Suyun skips away with an annoyed sigh, leaving Jungkook with Taehyung. and Ten, who gives Jungkook an odd look.

“I don’t think Taehyung properly introduced us,” Ten says with a pretty smile that makes Jungkook nervous. Jungkook doesn’t particularly want to be properly introduced to him.

“Ah, shit, sorry, I’m bad at introductions,” Taehyung apologizes with a laugh that eases Jungkook’s nerves. “Ten, this is my boyfriend, Jungkook.”

Boyfriend.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jungkook,” Ten says sweetly, though it seems obvious to Jungkook that the airiness to his voice is forced. “No wonder Taehyung hasn’t been around much lately. I hope you’re keeping him out of trouble.”

Jungkook twists to look up at Taehyung’s sparkling eyes and can’t stop himself from wiggling further into his side. Taehyung loops his arm around Jungkook’s waist and nuzzles his cheek against his soft bunny ears, and Jungkook feels like he might die from how quickly his heart is beating.

“He’s getting me into trouble, actually,” Jungkook admits sheepishly, and Ten throws his head back in laughter.

“That doesn’t surprise me at all.”

Unbothered by the allegations against him, Taehyung breathes Jungkook in and purrs, soft and low, and Jungkook feels all his nerves disappear.  

Series Masterlist

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories. 

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd​ - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie).

#bts fanfic #bts smut #bts fluff #venor #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #taekook fanfic

[supernovafics]

series masterlist | last part

pairing: modern!actor!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 8.1k words

warnings: explicit language, angst, fluff, smut (18+)

summary: it’s ten months of texts, phone calls, voicemails, anything to make it feel like everything isn’t too different. and for the most part, it works. until you and steve finally see each other again

EPILOGUE | ❝𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆❞

You: How’s New York so far?

Steve: Good aside from Tom trying to force me to do more press stuff than what we initially agreed on and I’ve only been here three days

You: I kinda miss that british man

Steve: That truly offends me</3

You: I’m sorry<3

You: Okay very very important question

You: Empire State of Mind or Welcome to New York?

Steve: ???? 

You: You’re in New York for the next month so one of them has to be your signature song (and yes this is coming from the person that has only been to New York a handful of times. shut up don’t mention it) 

Steve: Can I say no to both of them?

You: No.

Steve: Okay then 

Steve: The Taylor Swift one

You: Solid answer

You: Now I will start your morning right every day you’re there by sending you lyrics from that song :) 

Steve: Oh god

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Steve: What was the name of that show we watched for almost five hours at your place that one night?

You: It sincerely hurts me that you forgot the name of Brooklyn Nine-Nine….

Steve: Yes, that’s it! I was thinking about this one episode we watched of it but I couldn’t remember the name

You: Are you about to watch it without me? (if the answer is yes that hurts me even more)

Steve: Yes I was… But now no way I would never watch it without you

You: A true friend. Thank you 

Steve: Oh wait I’m just now realizing how late it is where you are. How are you even talking to me right now? 

You: Yeah, it’s 2am but I can’t sleep. First day of real filming tomorrow. First day being AD. And yes all the pre-production stuff me and Jessie have been doing since we got to Spain two weeks ago has been perfectly leading to this moment, but now it just feels so fucking real and even though I know I’m not gonna mess up or anything I’m still nervous

Steve: You’re gonna do great and actually I think it’s impossible for you not to be really good at what you do  

You: Thank you

Steve: I would suggest that I call you and we watch an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine to take your mind off things but you should sleep 

You: No actually can we do that? I’m wide awake right now and I don’t think I’ll be able to fall asleep anytime soon 

You: Also fun fact: I’m actually able to function better when I’m running on barely three hours of sleep 

Steve: That’s a huge lie but okay

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“… Please leave a message after the beep.”

You listened to the all-too familiar sound of the “beep” and then began speaking. “Okay, I know it’s like three in the morning in LA right now, so it completely makes sense why you didn’t answer. But, anyway, I just landed in London last night and now it’s morning and I’m at the coffee shop that you told me I should go to while I’m here.” 

“It’s really, really great, and I hate how right you are about the tea being amazing, and it actually makes me change my mind about how much I dislike tea. Oh, also, I got my first ever British scone from here and it’s so good too. I think I’ll probably be spending every day at this place while I’m here for the next month.”

“And I know you raved a lot about the breakfast sandwiches here too, so I will try that tomorrow. I think you said that the bacon one was your favorite, but please confirm that because I can’t fully remember… Oh, wait, nevermind, it’s definitely the bacon because I do remember you saying that you miss it a lot.”

“I could bring you one back if you want? No, wait, actually, that wouldn’t make sense because even when I leave London, I’m still gonna be in Europe for three more months… Wait, I see that they sell coffee mugs here, though, so I could definitely bring you back that if you wanted me to? They have some cool options.” 

“Alright, I think I’m just rambling at this point so let me shut up.” You let out a small laugh. “Okay, bye.” 

Call Ended

-

You: *image attached* 

You: Enjoy that picture of me being the most touristy tourist in the world :) 

Steve: I can’t believe you’re doing the leaning tower of pisa pose thing

You: I had to. I couldn’t come here and not do it. It feels like tradition. A rite of passage, if you will

Steve: You’re such a dork 

You: Joke’s on you because I fully take that as a compliment, so thank you 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The feeling of your phone vibrating in the back pocket of the jeans you were wearing surprised you because you thought you had turned it off for the day. And then seeing Steve’s name take over your phone screen further surprised you, but you didn’t hesitate to answer the call.  

“Hi,” You said. You were on a break for the first time that day, so the timing of his call was actually kind of perfect. “This is a pretty nice surprise.”

“Hey, how’s it going?” It felt really good actually hearing his voice for the first time in what felt like forever.  

“Pretty good. I never thought I’d actually find myself truly missing LA, but now I kinda can’t wait to be back there in three weeks,” You answered, saying what had been on your mind for a while at this point. “How’s Vancouver?” 

“Nice so far. It’s actually been snowing a lot, but I like it.” 

“I hope you've been doing all of the snow and Winter activities; making snow angels, sledding down hills. Y’know, all the stuff they do in children’s Christmas movies.” 

You almost immediately heard Steve laugh at your words. “The apartment I’m staying at here has a balcony, and last night after it stopped snowing I made a really small snowman.” 

You smiled. “I love that. Please send me a picture of it.” 

“Okay.”

Things became quiet for a moment, and it was a silence that easily felt comfortable and you didn’t mind it at all. Simply knowing that Steve was on the other end of the call felt like enough. 

“This is a random thought, but we never usually talk on the phone. Mainly because our time zones are insanely different, so the timing is never right, and we’re either leaving each other voicemails or just texting, which is fine. But it’s really nice hearing your voice. It’s just… really comforting.” You let out a soft breath. “Where I am right now and where I’ve been the past five-ish months have become my makeshift “homes,” but talking to you actually feels like home, in a way… And I know exactly how disgustingly cheesy that sounds. Don’t say anything about it, or I will end this call.”

Steve laughed a bit. “No, I agree with you. We’ve talked about feeling lonely before, but even though we haven’t seen each other in what feels like a really long time, whenever we text and especially when we talk on the phone, it’s hard to feel lonely. It’s like all of these miles between us don’t really matter, which is nice. You’re my “home” too.”

You were quiet for a second, fully taking in his words and smiling at how happy they made you feel. It was the kind of happiness where you also kind of felt like crying. 

You loved what you had been doing currently with your job and you wouldn’t have changed any of it, but you also really wished that you could see Steve right then; you would’ve killed for a hug.  

“Okay, I think I should go before I start crying,” You said, only slightly joking with your words. “Also, I only have ten more minutes of my break, and I haven’t eaten since this morning.” 

“Oh shit, I’m sorry.”

You shook your head even though he couldn’t see you. “No, don’t be sorry. Like I said, I really like when we can actually talk to each other. I like hearing your voice.” 

“I like hearing yours too,” He told you and somehow it was easy to hear the smile in his tone. “Okay, I’m gonna hang up now. Go eat something.”

“Aye, aye captain,” You said with a small laugh. “Talk to you soon.”  

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You: I just watched the final cut of Fear of Lonesome with Jessie… Enjoy this picture of me currently bawling my eyes out at the ending

You: *image attached*

Steve: Sorry for making you cry?

You: It was worth it, honestly

Steve: You’re coming to the cast and crew screening next week right?

You: Of course. I will happily cry at this movie again :)

You: It’s kinda really fucked up how good of an actor you are 

Steve: Thank you? At least I think that’s a compliment

You: It is<3

You: Anyway I’ll see you next week then

You: The first time in a really really long time. Holy shit 

Steve: That feels a little weird to think about. But a good kind of weird

You: Yeah definitely the good kind 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It was a moment that was ten months in the making. 

Ten months of texts, voicemails, and sporadic phone calls. Ten months of being so far apart from one another, but doing so much to make it feel like you weren’t. 

It was all leading here— seeing Steve in person at the small theater in West Hollywood that had been rented out for the night’s occasion. And when you saw him, talking to random members of the cast and crew, it didn’t exactly feel real, which made you not say anything. 

Until he saw you and your eyes met and small smiles were quickly shared. You gave him a small nod before you got pulled into a conversation with someone.

He looked a little different, hair grown out a bit more and there was something minorly different about his stance, but overall he was still your Steve. Well, not technically yours, but close enough. You then wondered if he thought you looked any different. You personally felt a bit different, in a good way; like you’d become better over the past ten months, and in some ways, more of yourself. 

It was almost amusing how, most of the time, the time seemed to move slowly over the past ten months, but now it was suddenly moving so much faster. 

Everyone left the lobby area and started making their way inside the room that the screening would be happening in since it was scheduled to start in five minutes, but you and Steve lingered back, walking toward each other until there were only a few beats of space between you two. 

You smiled at him again. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He stepped forward to close the rest of the distance between you and pull you in for a hug, but you stepped back. 

“Oh, I don’t know if I’m allowed to hug you. Y’know given that you’re an engaged man and all.” You tried to be completely serious with your words but it was hard not to laugh at least a little bit.

According to many celebrity news outlets, Steve and his female costar of the limited series he’d been filming in Vancouver for the past five months were dating. It was a rumor that started about two months into filming, and there had been no confirmations about the said relationship but there were also no hard denials, so the speculations continued. And then there were even a handful of news outlets that went quite insane with their headlines and said that the two were secretly engaged. You both had laughed about it then when you sent that article to him, because the rumors were hilariously ridiculous, and you couldn’t not joke about it now. 

“Ha ha,” He said, voice deadpan. “I didn’t even get to tell you, but Tom suggested that me and Lily actually start fake dating because, in addition to all of this giving so much more press to the show, it could also help me. If I’m dating someone it will fully “kill off the asshole image.” I immediately vetoed that idea, though.”

Although the asshole narrative that surrounded Steve still existed— not as prominent as it once was but it still lingered whenever his name was brought up by the media— it was hard to see him like that anymore.  

You let out a laugh. “Of course Tom would suggest that.” 

“Yeah, he’s…” Steve trailed off with a quick shake of his head. “Anyway, c’mere.”

You walked into his open arms that time, pushing up on your toes to circle your arms around his neck as his wrapped around your waist. Your eyes fell shut as he held you tight and it was then that the time felt like it started to move slow again. 

“I have something for you,” You told him after a moment, words getting somewhat lost in his neck but he was still able to hear you. “A little gift. It’s in my car, I’ll give it to you after.” 

“I also have something for you,” Steve whispered, and you opened your eyes at that.

You pulled back from the hug, still smiling at him. “Great minds, hm?”

He nodded and matched your smile with one of his own. Seeing him right then still didn’t entirely feel real just yet, so you went quiet once again and the two of you simply looked at each other. 

During the past ten months you and him had talked pretty much all of the time, but there was something different about this moment. Feelings that you thought you had successfully pushed far away rushed right back to the surface. 

“We should head inside,” He said, breaking the silence and pulling you out of your thoughts, which you were grateful for because you really didn’t want to think right then, especially not about that.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You were the one that suggested Steve come back to your place and the small gift exchange happen there. 

The screening felt as if it ended too soon and the inevitability of the night itself ending started to hang in the air. However, you couldn’t allow that to happen; you wanted this night to last as long as it could. 

Steve agreed with your suggestion and thirty minutes after various goodbyes were said, the two of you were sitting on your couch as a frozen pizza that you’d just bought yesterday cooked in the oven because both of you were hungry. 

You were already wearing the navy blue oversized crewneck he got you that had “Vancouver” embroidered in white across the front of it. It was comfortable and perfect, and a simple gift but also the best thing you’d received in a while. 

“I hope you like this,” You said as you handed him the gift you’d gotten for him; a cream colored mug with the logo of a coffee shop in brown lettering on the side. “I know you said that you were okay with not getting a mug from that coffee shop in London, but I just really wanted to get you this one.”

Steve looked at the mug for a second and then at you, a smile on his face. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” You said and your fingers started mindlessly playing with the hem of your crewneck as you continued speaking. “I’ve missed you a lot this past year. I know we talked so often and everything, but being right here, in person, feels really nice.”

“I’ve missed you too,” He said softly before he placed the mug on the coffee table barely a few feet away and then met your eyes again. “There were so many times where I wanted to just drop everything and go see you. Rearrange plans or cancel some stupid press stuff and meet up with you. Even if it would only be for barely a day or whatever. I just always wanted to see you.” 

You wanted to tell him how much you related to his words. You wanted to say how there were a countless amount of times where you had yearned to do the exact same thing. However, you couldn’t find the words to tell Steve any of that, so instead you only looked at him for a bit.

It was almost funny how many times you had become at a loss of words so far that night simply because of him. But it was as if the fact that you were suppressing so much made you unable to say pretty much anything. Because you were scared of where exactly your mind would go if you didn’t immediately shut down some of your thoughts that involved you and Steve, especially now that he was right here instead of thousands of miles away and no longer solely limited to the confines of your phone.  

He was your friend. Best friend. And it had been so much easier to pretend that that was where you and him solely began and ended when you both were so far away from each other— when he wasn’t right in front of you and you weren’t so easily reminded of how close you two used to be in such a different way. 

Those same revived feelings from earlier that night came right back again, and they practically increased tenfold because you found yourself wanting to kiss him so fucking badly. And, of course, there was a part of your mind that immediately told you just how bad of an idea that would be. However, at that moment, you became okay with all logical thinking being pushed out of the window. 

In your mind it felt like you were moving in slow motion, scooting closer to him on the couch and sliding into his lap so that your legs were on either side of him, but in reality it was happening so much quicker. However, you stopped there before you did anything else.

You could see some confusion in his eyes and also something else that you couldn’t fully decipher, maybe he was contemplating things as much as you had been before you decided to take this sort of plunge.  

That look was almost enough to wake you up and remind you of what had been agreed upon all those months ago, but it wasn’t enough to make you pull away from Steve. However, instead of sliding off of his lap or moving things further, you gave the metaphorical ball to him. 

You let silence hang in the air as the two of you simply looked at each other and you gave him the opportunity to push you away. To tell you that there wasn’t any part of him that wanted this to happen. That he was so far past feeling anything like that toward you anymore. That he never even thought about it.

You would’ve been okay with any of those things happening because even though it would’ve hurt, it would actually make things a thousand times easier. 

But, he didn’t do or say any of that. Instead, he closed the last bit of space between you two and slotted his lips against yours. 

It was an immovable and obvious fact that you had missed him so much over the past ten months, but you now realized that you had missed this just as much. A soft kiss that almost immediately turned into something more with one of Steve’s hands coming up to cup your cheek and the other finding your hip to keep you steady. You couldn’t help but moan into his mouth when his tongue ran across your bottom lip making the kiss deeper, and your hands fisted themselves into his t-shirt to bring yourself impossibly closer to him. 

For the time being, you effectively turned your mind off. You deliberately chose not to think about what this exactly meant or what it would come to mean. All you focused on in that moment was how fucking good doing this with Steve felt. 

Your hands found the hem of your crewneck because you suddenly felt way too hot and you pulled away from Steve for a second so that you could slip it over your head, leaving you in just your black tank top and shorts.  

You became so lost in the pure happiness of everything that was happening right then that you couldn’t hear anything except your heart pounding in your ears and the soft sounds Steve was managing to elicit from you due to the way he was squeezing your hips.  

“The oven,” He mumbled against your lips, which slowly snapped you out of the haze you were in. “The oven is beeping.” 

It was then that you heard the incessant noise; almost too loud and clear. 

You abruptly pulled away from Steve and maneuvered off of his lap. “Oh, shit.”  

He followed you into the kitchen as you opened up the oven and used a mitt to grab the circular pan the pizza was on and place it atop the stove. 

“That was, um…” You trailed off not knowing exactly where you wanted to go with your words. 

Steve shook his head. “It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.” 

“I don’t regret what just happened,” You blurted out. They were the words that pretty much mimicked what was said after the first time you two ever had sex. But, instead of those words first coming from Steve they were coming from you. “And I don’t really know what that means, and I kinda don’t wanna think about what it means right now. I kinda just don’t wanna think at all right now. Sometimes I feel like I think way too much when it comes to us.”

He was quiet for a second before he nodded at you. “Okay.”

His hands found your hips and you were softly pressed against the side of the kitchen counter. You two shared a look that felt as if it was saying a million things, none of which you particularly wanted to decipher right then. 

Before things could stay silent for too long, before you accidentally let your mind fall down a spiraling rabbit hole, you nodded a bit and mimicked Steve’s previous word. “Okay.”   

His hands came up to cup your face before he leaned in to kiss you again. You didn’t waste a second to push yourself onto the counter and Steve’s lips found your neck, roughly kissing and nipping at the skin. Your hands started playing with the hem of his t-shirt before circling in the loops of his jeans and pulling him flush against you. When you felt his hardness press against your inner thigh, you took in a sharp breath and let out a soft moan. You were completely certain that you would’ve let him pull off your shorts and underwear and do whatever he wanted to do to you against your kitchen counter if you weren’t reminded of something else. 

“The pizza?” You mumbled, a bit unable to form the question coherently because all you could really focus on was the feeling of Steve’s mouth against you. 

He pulled away from your neck and met your eyes. “We can eat it after.”

He didn’t have to specify further for you to know exactly what he meant. You smiled and pressed a quick kiss against his lips. “Yeah, after sounds perfect.” 

It became a blur of movements after those words fell from your lips. His hands found the backs of your thighs and he picked you up— the abruptness of the action made you simultaneously yelp and laugh as your arms came up to circle around his neck. You were carried to your bedroom and softly placed down against the unmade bed. Clothes were quickly shed until there was nothing between you and him. 

No words were said in these rushed moments where hands and mouths roamed almost everywhere on each other's bodies; the brief looks shared and breathy noises coming from both of you were enough. 

It was as if one mind was being shared or a song that only you two knew the words to was playing and both of you were singing along. Your hands were in his hair, softly pulling because the groans he’d let out were probably the hottest thing you’d ever heard. And his middle finger softly teased your clit as he whispered the filthiest things in your ear because he knew just how much that would make you lose it. 

It had been almost a year but neither of you forgot these little things about one another and it almost felt like second nature to be with each other in this way. There wasn’t a hint of nervousness or awkwardness, and maybe that was saying a lot more than you wanted to admit. 

You were positive that if you fully thought about what was happening right then, your mind wouldn’t hesitate to yell at you that this was a bad idea; that it would only make things complicated, and start you both back at square one. 

However, it would also tell you that the times in your life where you felt your happiest and most comfortable mainly consisted of moments with Steve, and that was something that felt as if it would never change. 

Therefore, when he slipped inside you with a low groan that you caught with your mouth and proceeded to make you come faster than you had in such a long time, it was hard to feel anything but completely happy. 

Your legs wrapped around him, coaxing him deeper inside of you and soft “pleases” fell from your lips begging him to come. And after a particularly hard thrust, he let out a loud “Fuck” and came inside of you, and you couldn’t do anything but moan at the feeling of his cum painting your walls. 

The weight of him crushed you in the most comforting way possible, and you tilted your head upward a bit to meet his lips in a soft and lazy kiss. The two of you stayed just like that for a while, coming down from your highs and letting your racing hearts return to normal. Your head fell back against your pillow, eyes closing, but you didn’t feel tired. 

“When those articles about you and Lily dating started coming out, I knew exactly how ridiculous the rumors were because I feel like we have the kind of… friendship where you’d tell me if you were dating someone… But, there was still a small part of me that believed it for a second, and it was actually so hard to not feel a little sad about it.” Your words came out quiet, and you actually had no idea why you had just said all of that— perhaps that confession did not make for the best post-sex pillow talk conversation. But, for some reason, you wanted to say it. 

It was a thought that had weighed on you all those months ago, and you knew that you couldn’t tell that to him then because of what it implied. And you weren’t entirely sure why and what made this moment different from then. 

Steve was quiet for a bit and his face was buried in your neck as he softly spoke. “I don’t really know what to say to that.”

“It’s okay,” You whispered back. “You don’t have to say anything. It was dumb of me to feel that way about it.” 

He rolled off of you and the feel of his warmth against you was something that you missed almost immediately. For a second you thought that maybe you ruined this moment, whatever it was, but then he said something.  

“What are you doing this weekend?” He asked, and you were grateful for the randomness of the subject change. 

You let out a breath that you didn't know you’d been holding and turned on your side to face him. “For once, absolutely nothing. It’ll probably be the last time I actually have nothing to do before the documentary I’m helping out on starts filming in a month, and I have to do some pre-production stuff for it soon.”

Work was honestly the only thing in your life that felt completely certain, so it always felt easy to talk about.

“You should come to New York. I’m going tomorrow, and I'll be there until the premiere here for the movie next week. I have to do some press stuff and have a few meetings. A bunch of boring stuff, but you should come for the weekend,” Steve said, one hand finding your bare hip and softly rubbing the skin. “To make the boring stuff a lot less boring.” 

You couldn’t help but smile at that, and you nodded at him, quickly deciding not to think too heavily about your answer. “Okay.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It was a little surprising that it wasn’t surprising how easy things fell back into that old place with you and Steve. Back to what sort of resembled the “arrangement” that had started during filming a year ago where you two pretty much acted like you were in a relationship, but neither of you would say the words or wholeheartedly acknowledge that fact. 

There was a lot that you two would eventually have to talk about, but you decided that that would be a bridge that you’d cross once you were hours away from getting on your flight back to California. And it was a flight that kept changing because you didn’t want to leave New York just yet; you didn’t want to leave Steve yet. 

So, your weekend trip extended days upon days until Wednesday came and it was agreed upon that you’d just go back to Los Angeles Friday morning when Steve was heading back there as well because that was the same day as the movie premiere.

You had a little work to do during those first few weekdays you were there, but you found it easy to respond to emails and make the phone calls you needed to from the comfort of Steve’s apartment, which was smaller than his place in LA but of course still massive and had a great view of Central Park. The dining room area became your makeshift “work from home” spot with your laptop at the table at pretty much all times. And while you did that, Steve was off doing press stuff for the movie, or he was in meetings; the things aside from filming that came along with being a famous actor. 

And then when the day would change into the evening and then night, you two were together, doing everything that you both had desperately missed doing. You two still knew each other’s bodies so well, and it was as if that fact was only further and further proven every night. 

It was hard not to be close to each other when for so long, you hadn’t been able to be, and because of that, things became a little different this time around in comparison to what the “arrangement” had been. There were little touches and affections— holding hands while sitting as close as you possibly could on the couch or Steve kissing you goodbye before he’d leave the apartment— that hadn’t happened before because of the lines that had been metaphorically drawn, but they felt pretty blurred now. 

A sort of routine quickly and almost effortlessly formed and it gave you that glimpse into what you and him could be if the circumstances were slightly different. And it was hard not to admit that you completely adored what this “what if” looked like. 

“We need snacks.” Your words were random and abrupt and Steve only looked at you amusingly. 

It was Wednesday night, days before things would inevitably change, and you weren’t completely sure what they’d change into— if they’d go back to the normal you had created with Steve where the two of you were friends and nothing more, or if things changed into something else entirely. You still completely avoided thinking about it all, and it was pretty damn nice living in this fantasy world. 

The two of you were on the couch in his living room. Your legs were draped over his lap and a blanket covered you both.

One of Steve’s hands was absentmindedly rubbing your leg beneath the blanket as he spoke. “There’s some stuff in the pantry.” 

“If we’re about to spend the entire night watching The Hunger Games movies we need more than just the chips to keep us alive.” 

His eyebrows furrowed at your words. “Am I underestimating how long these movies are?”

“You definitely are,” You said with a small laugh and pressed a quick kiss against his lips. You then pulled off the blanket that had been draped over the both of you and stood up from the couch. “I’ll go to the convenience store down the street.” 

Steve got up as well. “I’ll come too.” 

You quickly shook your head. “No way. It’s kinda insane how the paparazzi seem way more ruthless here. I think they’re always camping outside the building.” 

Over the past few days, you had come to the conclusion that it was lucky that Steve lived in an apartment building because whenever you would leave and come back, no one could ever know that you were there for him. And you knew just how big of a field day they would have if they did know, especially because of the dating rumors that were still circling about him and Lily.

“Yeah, way too many famous people live here,” Steve said as he followed you into his bedroom.

Your small suitcase, that had only been meant for a weekend trip and was packed as such, was a haphazard mess in the corner. You slipped off the shorts you were wearing and pulled on a black pair of leggings.  

“And yet, I’ve still not run into Paul Rudd on the elevator since I’ve been here,” You jokingly said and expected Steve to laugh, but instead he bypassed your statement.  

“Wait, it’s raining. You sure you’re gonna be okay out there?” 

You smiled at his slightly concerned face. “Okay, I know I’ve been living in LA for a long time now, but don’t worry I have in fact experienced rain before.” 

Steve shook his head at you but still couldn’t help but laugh a little at your words. “Hold on.” 

He almost immediately walked away, heading into his closet, before you could ask him what he was doing, and then returned moments later with a hoodie and umbrella. 

“I was already planning to steal a hoodie, but thanks for the umbrella,” You told him with a smile as you put on the plain black hoodie. “What kind of candy do you want me to get?”

“Skittles.” 

“Solid answer,” You responded with a nod. 

The two of you headed toward the front door and you put on your shoes that were next to it. Once you were done, Steve handed you the umbrella. He then pulled the hood of the hoodie over your head and then leaned in to press a kiss on your nose. “Don’t meet Paul Rudd on the elevator.”

You laughed a bit. “I’m sorry, but I really, really hope I do.” 

You didn’t meet Paul Rudd on the elevator, and you told Steve that with an over dramatic sad sigh when you came back from the store twenty minutes later, a bag full of junk food in hand, before you both settled back on the couch.

The two of you were only able to fully watch the first two Hunger Games movies before falling asleep an hour into the third one, around two in the morning. You half-woke up when the credits were rolling and then lightly poked Steve awake so that you two could go to his actual bed for the rest of the night.

“This is how it would be, y’know,” Steve said in the morning, words slightly getting lost in your hair.

The two of you were cuddled in his bed, your back pressed against his front and one of his arms draped over your waist. You had just finished having a half-awake discussion about what to do for breakfast before he said that he had to leave soon for the final day of press interviews for the movie, but he told you about a bagel place nearby that you’d probably like. And then the conversation shifted to a pinky promise agreement that you and him would finish the final two Hunger Games movies that night. 

Things became quiet after that, with both of you savoring the last few minutes you could spend in bed, and you found his hand, intertwining it with yours and pulling it up to kiss the back of it. 

You almost shifted around to face Steve after he abruptly said his previous words, but you felt too comfortable in your current position to do so. “How what would be?”

“You and me if we decided to be something real.”

 “Steve,” You said softly and then decided to shift around so that you were looking at him. His hair was a little disheveled and he looked pretty tired, but he also looked so cute. If he hadn’t just abruptly pushed open the door to the conversation that you knew needed to happen, you were certain that you would’ve kissed him right then. 

“I’m just saying...” He said as his shoulders upturned in a small shrug. “Also, I’m slightly kidding. This week has been really good, and I’m glad we got to have it, but I know things will go back to… normal soon. And that’s okay.” 

Hearing him say that— confirming that things would just go back to how they were, a friendship where you both seemed to just lie about what you really wanted and how you felt— made you get hit with the sudden realization that you hated the thought of going back to that.

However, for some reason, you couldn’t find the words to tell him that right then, so instead you nodded at what he had just said and plastered on a fake smile. You made your voice sound as light as possible. “Yeah.” 

He left the apartment forty-minutes later and you left it twenty minutes after that, deciding to go to the bagel place he suggested because you were hungry and also because you didn’t want to be alone in his apartment with only your confusing and contradicting thoughts to keep you company. 

However, somehow as you walked aimlessly around Central Park— your bag with your plain cream cheese bagel in one hand and iced coffee in the other— that was when it felt like the dam broke, and your mind started spiraling because it finally felt impossible to keep avoiding and pushing your thoughts away. You were finally facing the bridge that you had told yourself you’d eventually have to cross, and in your head, you could see that the end of it was leading in two completely different directions. And you knew the exact direction you wanted to go in. 

Your friendship with Steve was supposed to be more than enough. That was what you had told yourself that night at the wrap party to convince yourself that you were completely okay with only having a friendship with him. 

But now, after these past five days of getting that glimpse into what something more could look like, you knew that just being friends really wasn’t enough, and it never would be. And although a part of you still felt a little scared to risk it all, there was an even bigger part of you that didn’t want to give this up anymore. 

You couldn’t give up how completely and irrevocably happy Steve made you in more ways than just friendship. It was a mixture of the butterflies you’d get in your stomach whenever he would pull you close to him to press a soft kiss against your forehead or cheek and the wide smile you’d get on your face when he’d come back to the apartment after being gone for hours. It was also how he would look at you so adoringly when you would ramble about work stuff and how he could easily manage to convince you to stay in bed for “five more minutes;” five minutes that would always turn into at least ten but you never cared. 

Steve Harrington made you the happiest you’d ever been and you suddenly became tired of continuously avoiding that fact.  

It was a series of quick but definitely long overdue actions that happened next. 

You found yourself sitting on a park bench with the thought of eating your bagel or drinking more of your coffee long forgotten for the time being, and instead they simply sat next to you, because there was something else you needed to do at that moment. You pulled out your phone and went to Steve’s contact, pressing the call button before you could think twice about it. 

It went straight to voicemail, just like you knew it would because he always kept it off during interviews, so you waited for the way too familiar “beep” sound and then started speaking. 

“Hi,” Your voice came out softer than you expected it to, so you cleared your throat. “I knew that you weren’t gonna answer, and I’m kinda glad that you didn’t because I just want to get all of this out all at once. So, stay tuned for a very long-winded ramble from me.” You let out a small laugh. “Um, anyway, these past five days that I’ve been here in New York with you have been so good, like insanely good, and I’ve been avoiding thinking about what would happen after this and what would exactly change between us. And I was completely okay with not thinking about any of that because it made it easier to just live in the moment and be happy with what we’ve been doing. But then this morning, you said that it’s okay that things will go back to normal soon and that finally made me think about everything, and I realized that I don’t want us to go back to “normal.” I actually kind of hate the thought of doing so.” 

You stopped for a moment, gaze becoming fixated on a group of friends that had blankets spread out in the grass and were having a picnic not that far away from you, and then you looked at a couple that was walking down one of the paths holding hands. 

After taking a quick breath, you kept going. “You’re so important to me, and our friendship is so important to me too… But I love you. I’m in love with you. And because of that, I can’t just be your friend. I want more, I want us to be something real; and that’s pretty much exactly what you said that night at my apartment almost a year ago. I’m so sorry that it’s taken me this long to realize just how fucking great we are together.”  

Your hand that wasn’t holding your phone to your ear began absentmindedly playing with the hem of the sweatshirt you were wearing; it was the Vancouver crewneck he got for you.

“I want us to have days like this past week forever. And I know that this week has kind of been a fluke because, for the first time in a really long time, our schedules worked out pretty well. But we can make this work. I know we can. I was an idiot to say that we don’t make sense before because we do. Yes, our lives pull us in pretty different directions most of the time, and it sucks, but it's okay because it doesn’t change how I feel about you, and it never will. And I think that's the most important thing. It's why I know we, us, can actually work.”  

You leaned back against the wooden bench and let out a breath. “Okay, wow, I’m so surprised that I haven’t been cut off yet… I’m currently sitting on a park bench in Central Park, and I got a bagel and coffee from the place you mentioned. I haven’t tried the bagel yet, but the coffee’s pretty good…” You trailed off with a shake of your head and then laughed a bit. “I have no idea why I’m telling you that right now. Um, anyway, I’m gonna stop talking now, and I’ll see you back at the apartment later. Bye.” 

When you ended the call and pocketed your phone away, you felt an immediate weight lift off of your shoulders and you let out a contented sigh that turned into a small laugh. 

You waited for a second, though, waited for something that resembled dread or regret to suddenly hit you, but it never did. And that was what let you know that what you’d just done was fully the right thing to do. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Hours later, you still felt nothing but complete contentment with what you had done, leaving the minute and a half long voicemail that would, in fact, change everything. You wanted it to change everything. 

After responding to a handful of work emails and then enduring an hour-long phone call with one of the Producer’s of the soon-to-be filming documentary, you were in the kitchen searching for some sort of a snack to eat. However, hearing the sound of the front door opening halted your rummaging. 

“Hi,” You said, watching Steve enter the apartment and then close and lock the door behind him. 

He met your eyes almost immediately. “I really loved that voicemail.”

You smiled at him, at how quickly he wanted to address the elephant in the room before it really even had a chance to enter. “Yeah?”

He didn’t hesitate to nod his head and he smiled back at you. “Yeah. I’m never deleting it.”

He looked so happy as he walked over to you where you were leaning against the kitchen island, and that look made your heart constrict in your chest. 

“I love you,” It didn’t feel the tiniest bit scary to say the words right to him, they just felt so honest and undeniable. Your voice was soft and your arms came up to wrap around his neck, hands immediately finding home in the hair at the nape. 

“Mm,” His eyes slipped shut as his arms circled around you, pulling you against him.  “Say it again.” 

Your mouth was right against his ear as you spoke. “I love you.” 

He hummed again and then pulled back a bit, his nose brushed against yours and his lips did the same. It was all so teasing, like he wanted to take his absolute time with kissing you. However, now it didn’t have to be slow or drawn out because none of this was going to abruptly end; there was no expiration date apart of this like the arrangement you had a year ago. 

“I love you too,” He said before finally slotting his lips against yours.  

There was so much expressed in the soft kiss. It completely felt like the beginning of something new, something better, rather than simply a continuation of what you two had. The kiss was so certain and sure and it only further confirmed to you that everything happening was right and good and perfect. This was what you had wanted from the moment the two of you made that pinky promise during the wrap party; the one where you both said that you wouldn’t let your friendship end. Technically, it wasn’t being broken. 

You pulled away when you started feeling lightheaded and you met Steve’s gaze as you allowed yourself to breathe for a bit. You were quiet for only a second. 

“This will work,” You whispered. 

Steve nodded and then pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, it will.” 

The three simple words comforted you, they wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and you savored the feel of them. For the first time, probably ever, your overthinking mind felt sated; it couldn’t find anything wrong about this moment. You finally felt like you could breathe so goddamn easy because there was nothing to truly worry about, and you found yourself wanting to cry at that feeling, but you didn’t. Instead, you kissed Steve’s cheek and then his other one, and then his nose and forehead. 

“This is random, but I’m really, really glad that I was forced to be your assistant.” 

Steve laughed a bit at that. “Sometimes it doesn’t even really feel like that's where we started.” His hands found yours, intertwining them and giving them a light squeeze. “But, I’m so fucking glad that it was you.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

author’s note: i'm gonna miss these two<333 i hope yall enjoyed this series! its been a rollercoaster fr (a good one for the most part though lol) i might do lil blurbs for these two someday because i'm way too attached to them and i have some minor ideas of some things i'd wanna do involving them.... but that probably won't happen for a while because after somehow being able to put out chapters weekly for this i do in fact need a Break lmao but anyway thank you for reading and enjoying this series🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington series #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things fluff #stranger things imagine

[beardedjoel]

closer | part fifteen

joel x f!reader. non-apocalypse au  

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3  

chapter summary: you try to hide the fact that you’re afraid of thunderstorms from joel, but he sees right through you, coming to your rescue at the perfect time. slutiness and cuteness ensue. 7.8k words.

chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI, age difference (joel is 42 and reader is 25), soft!dom joel, protective!joel, boyfriend asf!, consensual somnophilia, oral (m receiving), unprotected piv, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink

a/n: this chapter means i’m up to date on all the chapters i have posted on ao3 right now, so my updates may be a tad bit slower than they have been on tumblr. ty for bearing with me i love u all ♡

You used to like thunderstorms as a kid. They were fun back then - watching the lightning and listening for the next claps of thunder. Running around outside as it poured buckets on you and soaked you to the bone. It was fun. And now, you’re twenty five years old and afraid of them, thinking back on how you got here as you cower slightly from the most recent flash of lightning outside.

Your second year living in Chicago, there was a storm that you got caught in while driving home from class late one night. You should have waited it out, but things took a turn for the worse once you were already on the road, and you ended up in a car accident where you lost control of your car and crashed it. You were too afraid to move, seemingly stuck in your car anyways with the seat belt locking, airbags deploying, the whole nine yards. You were lucky you didn’t have many injuries, just a broken arm and some bad bruising. To this day, it’s the thought of hearing the rain pounding on the pavement, your only memories being the flashes of lightning and sound of thunder while you waited for someone to help you that really sticks with you. You’ve tried working through it, and made great strides for dealing with the anxiety that comes up during thunderstorms, but it doesn’t mean it’s completely gone.

Of course your parents are out of town this weekend, too, so while you lay in bed, trying to distract yourself, the power cuts out, and you cower completely. You’re glad that you’d already brought Benny up here earlier to keep you company. You’re just laying in the dark, feeling frozen in your little anxiety bubble, unable to get up to even find a lighter and some candles to bring some light into your space. You’re going to have to force yourself to do it soon, but you’re trying to get past the shaking from the surprise of all your lights suddenly going out.

Your phone rings, startling you even further, and you see Joel’s name pop up on your screen. You feel reluctant to answer, not wanting to bother him with your stupid, juvenile fear. You reach with a trembling hand to grab your phone and decide to answer the call.

“Hey,” you say, a slight waver in your voice.

“Hey baby, I just got in and my power’s out. Is yours?” Joel asks, and you swallow hard, pushing down your emotions.

“Mhm, yeah,” you say into your phone. “It is.”

“Everything alright?” he immediately asks, quickly sensing the difference in your demeanor. Damn him.

“Y-yeah, everything’s good. Benny and I are just, uh, hanging in the dark,” you tell Joel, running a hand over Benny’s belly as he lays stretched out next to you. He’s anxious too, you noticed, not seeming to like the pounding rain on the windows or periodic thunder. Poor boy, at least you can relate to how he feels.

“Alright, then. Just checkin’ in.” You can hear Joel shuffling around in the background. “Lookin’ for some more candles,” he murmurs to explain all the noise.

“I should light some, t-too,” you say, feeling and sounding completely robotic. You’re out of it now, your anxiety with the storm trying to take you to another place where you block it all out.

“Wh- are you sure you’re alright? You sound kinda weird,” Joel replies.

“I’m not being weird,” you snap slightly, then bite your lip, not wanting to lash out at him unfairly. “Really,” you try to say reassuringly.

“If you say so…” Joel trails off, and you hear a small sigh. “Found ‘em,” he adds quietly, completing his search for some more candles to light.

“Actually, I should go, sorry. Benny is uh, whining. He’s scared right now, I think,” you say, despite Benny lying quietly at your side. Why the hell are you lying to Joel now?

“Okay, darlin’, just text me or somethin’, okay? Hope this power comes back soon,” he says, and you hurriedly tell him goodbye before hanging up.

There you go, blowing your one chance for an out from this anxious mess you’ve found yourself in. You know Joel would probably rush over here in a heartbeat if you’d told him, and for some reason, it embarrasses you that it would be for something that seems this silly. It’s just a storm, and while you remind yourself of that constantly, it’s too difficult to not let your mind go to that familiar place when you experience weather like this.

Not even five minutes later, there’s a knock on your door. You start, but freeze after, the sudden knock only heightening the tightness in your chest, and you realize tears are pulling at your eyes now. Fucking hell. You force yourself up, walking over to the door with ginger steps, trying to focus on the present. Benny is at your side, tail wagging between his legs skeptically.

“Sweetheart, it’s me,” you hear through the door when you’re only steps away. Your eyebrows lift slightly and you close the gap between you and the door, swinging it open. Joel is standing on the landing outside of your door, completely soaked through and looking at you through concerned eyes. He takes one look at your crumbling façade, pulling you into him as he steps towards you slightly to keep you out of the rain.

“What’s goin’ on, hm?” he asks tenderly, his wet palms gripping your cheeks before wrapping around you completely.

“N-nothing.” Your face gives you away, eyes completely doe-like and fearful as you come down a bit from your anxiety when you feel his arms around you. You don’t care that his wet shirt is soaking right into yours now, you just need to breathe him in for a moment and everything will be ten times better already.

“Swear, if you don’t admit you’re afraid of thunderstorms to my face right now…” Joel says, slightly scolding but only because he cares, you know. Your eyes widen, hating that once again, he’s got you all figured out.

“Yes…” you reply, sagging your shoulders in defeat. “It’s s-so stupid, I d-didn’t want to tell you, it’s not worth it.”

“Not worth it? Look at you, you’re shakin’, baby.” Joel pulls his head back and looks you up and down. Benny nudges both of your bodies, curling up against your legs, and Joel smiles sweetly down at him. “I’m takin’ you both with me, c’mon.”

Joel grabs your hand and turns to walk away, but you hesitate, his grip on your hand tight yet you stand firm and unmoving. Joel shoots back a look and before he can even ask or you can protest anything, he swoops you up under the knees and holds you, carrying you down the stairs. He calls after Benny to follow, and despite his own anxiety, Benny trails you, likely making sure you’re okay - he’s always been a good protector like that. You’re instantly soaked, the rain hitting all of you in hard droplets, and you tilt your head down into Joel’s chest to avoid it getting in your eyes. A clap of thunder roars above as you enter into Joel’s yard and you tremble, your breathing shaky for a moment.

“Shh,” Joel murmurs near your ear, “Almost there.”

He rushes to his house and slides open the back door. You’re immediately welcomed by glowing candlelight all through the kitchen, and you can see past into the living room to see Joel has lit several candles in there as well. You feel an immediate sense of relief seeing the calming, flickering lighting and feel your body sink into Joel’s arms. He sets you down in a kitchen chair and steps back, taking stock of you and Benny in your soaked state.

“One sec,” he murmurs, walking off and returning with a towel before crouching down and rubbing Benny all over with it. Benny pants happily in Joel’s face and he cracks a smile when the chocolate lab shakes off some extra moisture all over the two of you. You manage to feel a smile tug at your lips now too, feeling like the worst of this night is over now.

“Your turn, darlin’,” Joel says, standing and taking your hand. “Let’s get you some dry clothes,” he adds, guiding you upstairs to his bedroom.

Joel grabs another Texas football themed shirt from his dresser before walking over to you, helping you undress before you get the chance. As he reveals your bare chest, he barely makes note of it, and you appreciate his gesture to make you feel safer. He slides the t-shirt over your head and then smiles down at you.

“Shorts next,” he tells you before tugging them down and tossing them in a pile with your wet shirt. He hands you a pair of his boxers, and you slide them on, and although they’re ill fitting, you adjust them until they’re able to sit comfortably enough on you. You sit back on the edge of his bed and smile appreciatively while Joel gets to work changing his own soaked clothing. The view of Joel damp and shirtless is almost enough to make you forget your unease from this evening, and Joel gives you a cheeky smirk as he notices you admiring him.

“Now isn’t that a sight,” he comments as he sees you lounging on his bed, clad completely in his clothes.

“This?” you ask incredulously, motioning to the baggy boxers and shirt you’re wearing.

“Never looked better, if ya ask me,” Joel says, throwing a dry t-shirt and athletic shorts on. He approaches you on the bed and leans down, kissing you on the forehead, his smell breezing past you as he does it, leaving you sighing quietly. “So sexy in all my clothes,” he adds, pulling his face back to look at you again, giving you a wink.

“C’mon, let’s head back downstairs and keep Benny company,” he suggests, and you follow him back to the living room where Benny is laying down next to Joel’s couch, clearly exhausted from the storm that continues to rage outside. Joel pulls you down so that you’re settled onto his lap, and you instantly curl into him, the warmth coming off of his body a welcome sensation despite the house starting to heat up without the air conditioner running.

“Alright, talk to me baby,” Joel says, curling his arm around you and rubbing your back.

“Promise you won’t think I’m dumb?” you ask him timidly.

Joel shoots you a wry look and tuts. “Promise.”

“I just… get anxious during storms now,” you pause to swallow hard, readying yourself to dig into the bad memories. “I had a really bad car accident a few years ago and it was during this huge thunderstorm. I-I was waiting for ages, I was too scared to move and reach for my phone at first, not knowing if I’d broken anything. A-and the seatbelt was stuck, so I just had to sit there and hope someone found me until I was able to finally get to my phone...” You stop, gathering yourself and biting inside your lip anxiously. “I was waiting and struggling for ages just listening to the rain, and I just get this irrational anxiety that comes up now when the weather is really bad like this. I don’t know…” you trail off, feeling a few hot tears brimming your eyes now.

“Hey, hey it’s alright. That ain’t irrational, makes a lot of sense to me,” Joel says reassuringly, continuing to gently stroke your back and shoulders.

“There’s a part of my brain that knows it’s irrational, but the other part just

“This weather just puts me back in a bad place sometimes. It doesn’t happen with every storm, but especially when I’m alone,” you say with a small, defeated shrug, concluding your explanation to him.

“Okay, now that I know that, I can help you out baby. Why didn’t you tell me on the phone?”

“I felt embarrassed, Joel. I don’t tell very many people about this since I just feel totally crazy and irrational when it comes up. I mean what kind of grown adult is scared of thunderstorms?”

“Someone who went through somethin’ scary like you did,” Joel replies in a heartbeat. You sigh and lean your cheek further onto his shoulder.

“Yeah… I guess so,” you reply skeptically. It’ll take more than his words to change your mind that it’s not an overreaction, but knowing he believes in you is a huge step.

“S’alright, not a bit of judgment from me darlin’, promise,” Joel says sweetly, giving you a squeeze. “I’m afraid of cockroaches,” he admits sheepishly, and you chuckle.

“See? There’s my girl.” Joel pokes his fingers into your side, sending you squirming and laughing. Just the mention of those two words you love - my girl - immediately lightens the tightness in your chest.

“Everyone is afraid of cockroaches, but I appreciate the sentiment,” you murmur, wrapping your arms a little tighter around his neck.

“You need to eat? We’ve got to eat some stuff in my fridge before it goes bad,” Joel says, and you perk up a little. “Wait, I’ve got just the thing,” he says before nudging you off his lap and onto the couch. You sit and wait for him to return from the kitchen, where he brings over a carton of ice cream.

“S’gonna melt, so we better go for it,” he says, offering you a spoon. You take it with a grin and he sits down next to you while you both dig into the already half melted ice cream. You sit back a little, draping your legs across his lap and he instantly starts running a hand along your shins and thighs. The ice cream and Joel’s presence is already immensely helping you ride out this thunderstorm, which is already seeming to lighten up a bit outside.

“So…” you say nervously, “I’ve seen your guitar in here every time I come over, but I’ve never heard you play…”

“You askin’ if I’ll play for you?” Joel asks, a cocky smile on his lips.

You bite your bottom lip and nod slightly, glad you don’t have to say it so directly. You’ve been dying to ask him about it for weeks but were worried about putting him on the spot.

“I’m not anythin’ to write home about, but I can certainly strum somethin’ up for you, darlin’,” he replies, and your heart melts a little when he stands up, handing you the ice cream to finish off as he picks up the guitar.

You sit patiently as Joel plucks at the strings, checking the sound. He sits himself in the same spot next to you, giving you a last glance before he starts to play. As it goes on, you realize you don’t know the song, but it has a relaxed, old time country sound to it. You feel completely mesmerized by it already, the way he looks down at the guitar with concentration, his fingers deftly moving along the neck as he strums. Your heart lurches, an undoubtedly lovesick smile on your face.

As if you weren’t already about to burst, Joel starts humming quietly along with the song, his eyes closing as he loses himself in it. You relax back into the couch, letting the beautiful music he’s creating lull you into a further sense of security. Now that you’ve calmed down enough to see straight, you can’t help but feel an overwhelming sleepiness that’s coming over you now.

You stifle a yawn and let Joel keep playing as your head gets fuzzy and your eyes start to blink more and more slowly. After a few songs, Joel stops playing, and you force your eyes open despite how tired you are and see him putting his guitar back on the stand.

“‘M gonna go to bed,” you murmur sleepily, stretching your arms up over your head a bit before sitting up.

“M’kay, darlin’. I’ll be up in a bit, you head on up there though,” Joel replies, planting a kiss on your forehead. He helps pull you off the couch, gently patting your ass as you move past him, and you shoot him a wry glance before walking up the stairs.

You use your toothbrush that Joel still has set out for you, and it makes you smile all over again. You can’t feel anything but grateful for everything he’s done for you tonight - you’d probably be having a restless, sleepless night if he hadn’t intuitively come and rescued you. You barely even remember your head hitting the pillow, your anxiety having knocked all the energy out of you this evening, before you’re fast asleep.

You wake up suddenly, a light gasp escaping your mouth as you sit up, trying to shake off your unsettling dream. You aren’t surprised by it, you tend to have strange dreams when your anxiety is high like it was tonight. You suddenly shiver, realizing the air conditioning is back on and Joel’s power must have come back while you two were sleeping. You burrow yourself under the covers a bit more to warm up and look over at Joel. It’s not often you get to watch him sleep, he tends to wake up before you when you spend the night together. It’s amazing that he manages to be an even earlier riser than you.

Your eyes soften as you look over him in the dark, bare chest dusted with hair rising and falling gently and his mouth slightly open. You suddenly feel a pull between your legs when you notice that there’s a small tent at his hips under the thin sheet, and you curl your toes as an image of his hard cock flashes through your mind.

You suddenly don’t think Joel would mind at all if you were to thank him for everything he did for you tonight. You don’t want to wake him just yet, so you slowly reach your hand over and cup the bulge in the sheet gingerly, rubbing ever so slightly. A small moan comes from Joel’s throat as he stirs slightly, but he immediately stills back into sleep as you continue to stroke him. You dare to do it a little harder, and Joel shifts again, but you can tell he isn’t quite awake yet. You smile deviously to yourself, finding that this turns you on more than you would have imagined. You try to reposition yourself without shaking the mattress too much, scooting closer and pulling the sheet down. You can now see that Joel has gotten significantly harder, straining against his briefs while you stroke your fingers along his lengthy shaft. You have to bite down to fight off the moaning that’s now on the tip of your own tongue.

Joel murmurs your name in his sleep, and your eyes go wide, thinking maybe he’s woken up, but he’s clearly just thinking about you in whatever horned up dream he must be having, and that makes your smirk grow even more. You have to fight off a giddy laugh now at the thought of it.

You slip your hand under the waistband of his briefs, caressing his warm, hard cock in your hand as you fist it, running your hand along the length as you position yourself in between his legs. Your hands hook around the sides of his briefs, pulling them down and exposing his throbbing cock to you, a drip of precum already leaking out from the light touching you have been doing. The power you hold over this man right now… the one who typically holds all the cards, the one who tells you what to do, is mesmerizing. You’ve got him in the palm of your hand, quite literally, and plan to do nothing but pleasure him until he wakes up to himself coming into your mouth.

As you swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, Joel’s hips writhe and he stirs a little more, a deep groan sounding from him when you take your mouth over the head and plunge it down further. You gather spit and push your mouth down, drooling all over his cock and taking it deeper and deeper.

“Wh-” you hear from above you, and you smile around his cock as you realize Joel is at the least half awake now. He breathes your name in questioning, his head tilted off the pillow and looking down at you. You glance up at him while continuously taking his cock over and over into your mouth in slow, even strokes. You pop the head out of your mouth and lap at it a few times, causing Joel’s hips to twitch up.

“Shh, just relax and try to go back to sleep. Want to say thank you for tonight,” you coo, immediately taking him back into your mouth, letting your tongue drag along the bottom of his shaft. Joel’s eyes flutter shut as he leans his head back again and groans at the sensation of your warm mouth.

“Baby,” Joel murmurs with a little pleased grunt, giving in easily and letting you take the reins for once.

He’s throbbing, already satisfyingly close to release as he sleepily pumps his hips up into each stroke of your mouth. You pull your mouth off and lick strokes up his length, flicking your tongue as you go, and he just about loses all control as he hisses through his teeth. You sink your mouth fully onto him, taking every inch you can to the back of your throat and Joel starts, sitting forward and grabbing the back of your head, bucking his hips up into your mouth as he comes hard, groaning your name while his warm seed spills deep into your throat. You relish every moment of it, swallowing everything he has to offer you with pride. Joel’s body goes limp, flopping back onto the mattress, his chest heaving and limbs spent.

“Jesus, girl,” he utters, running a hand over his sleepy eyes and down his face. You tuck him back into his briefs and slip under his arm, resting on his chest. “What was that all about, huh?” Joel asks, cozying up to you.

“Like I said, I was saying thank you for tonight. You helped me out, so I helped you out.”

“Helped me out…” Joel echoes with a drowsy chuckle, his eyes blinking shut slowly. “Funny girl.”

Joel’s breathing evens out, and you think he may have fallen back to sleep, when he suddenly speaks out into the darkness of the room.

“You know you can talk to me, right baby? Don’t hide yourself from me,” he says, opening his eyes again, a slight pain in them at the thought of you feeling the need to do that. You blink a few times, trying to avoid the tears that are threatening in the back of your eyes at his sudden declaration.

“I’m not trying to, I swear,” you start to explain. “I just knew you’d go out of your way if I told you the truth earlier.”

“And didn’t I anyway?” Joel asks.

The corner of your lip turns up and you nod.

“Cause I know you, darlin’. Always easy for me to read you,”

You furrow your brow, frustrated by that fact considering you find Joel hard to read a majority of the time. You tense up, about to protest what he said when he cuts you off.

“‘Fore you get all huffy it’s no offense, it just means I’m payin’ attention to you,” he explains, and you settle down a bit, running your fingers along his bare shoulder and upper arm.

“Well when you put it like that…” you say, giving up your angry facade completely.

“Dunno if you noticed but I’m awful protective, it’s not always a good trait. Sometimes it helps, like tonight, other times…”

“You end up fucking me against a wall because another boy talked to me?” you add cheekily, and Joel looks playfully taken aback.

“Oh she’s gettin’ mean now,” he chuckles hoarsely, “But fair point. It’s gotten me in trouble before.”

You bite your lip, debating on digging into what he said further. What kind of ‘before’ could he be referencing?

“Like… with other people? Women, I mean?” You surprise yourself by asking before you can think about it any longer.

Joel nods slightly, a smug smile on his face. “Yes baby, and we both know that gets you jealous.” You open your mouth to speak, and he cuts you off once again. “Don’t even try to deny it, sweetheart.” You concede, snapping your mouth shut and letting him carry on.

“I’ve been known to be a jealous boyfriend. Some people like it, others… not so much. Simple as that.”

You find yourself reeling for a moment at his choice of wording. Boyfriend… Your eyes peer out into the dark room, wide and searching, debating how to respond to him.

Joel must read the look on your face as he glances at you and he starts to backtrack. “Now darlin’, don’t get too excited, I just meant, in my past relationships.”

You clear your throat, trying to hide the disappointment from your face. “I-is that what you’d call this, then? A relationship?” You don’t mean to, but you know your eyes are full of a pleading hope, desperate for the answer you’ve been craving from him for so long.

Joel releases a sigh, clearly still warring with himself over it. “Listen, sweet girl, I had some… stuff happen before. The woman I was seeing, she and I started to not see eye to eye on things. I held her back, if I’m honest. Or so she thought, I guess. Things got real resentful, and I can’t go through that sort of thing again, y’understand me?”

Things are clicking into place, your mind beginning to race with all this new information. That’s exactly where Joel had gotten this wording from about holding you back - it must have been spit in his face by his ex once things reached that resentful place he was talking about. You would never be like that, you think solemnly - you could never resent Joel, he’s done nothing but bring joy into your life since you first saw him.

“Y-you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want t-to, I’m sorry,” you half mumble, suddenly feeling guilty for bringing up something painful for him.

“‘S’okay, angel. That’s not the point. It was a long time ago, and yeah, it does hurt to think about, but just ‘cause I can’t do that to someone else I care about, y’hear me?”

You nod, not sure you know what you’re agreeing to right now. “O-okay. I don’t think you’re holding me back, Joel. You make me… really happy.”

“I see that, baby. And that’s why I worry. I don’t want my selfish shit to get in your way if we do this thing. Ever. You’d have to promise me, at the first sign of it, you’d go running from my ass.”

You blink hard, not sure if you’d heard him correctly. You’re hardly even able to comprehend the second half of what he said, fully stuck on the joy rising in your chest at his imposition. “If we do this thing? Wh-“ you start, lips trembling slightly as you try to get the words out.

“Yes, darlin’, if this ain’t a relationship by now, I don’t know what to call it.”

You press your lips together to fight it but a sparkling smile breaks through, spreading across your whole face now. Joel closes his eyes and sighs at the sight, knowing he’s just agreed to his own potential downfall. He still isn’t managing to hide the little smile pulling at his lips despite his worries.

“Easy, now,” he says, letting his smile crack through the facade even more. He leans over and slides his hand around your cheek, pulling you closer as he finishes closing the gap between you and kisses you. You kiss him back softly, relishing in the feeling of it after this new confirmation from him. When Joel pulls away, there’s a beautiful, soft look in his eyes.

“My girl,” he says quietly, gaze locked onto yours. “Mine.”

“Yours,” you say breathlessly, and you mean it wholeheartedly. You can’t imagine being anyone else’s, feeling the constant, burning passion and care that you do for Joel for anybody but him.

“You okay with me being a jealous, possessive bastard? Needin’ to fuck you half to death every time anyone gets any ideas ‘bout you? Barely able to keep my hands off you around everyone else to remind ‘em you’re all mine?” Joel lists off, his voice growing hoarse with need as he looks at you hopefully with a sly smile.

“God, yes,” you breathe out. Even hearing him describe those situations makes you ache between the legs, and you know he’s going to the absolute death of you. “I fucking love all of it - we were made for each other, Joel. Let you do anything you need to me any time if it means I get to remind you I’m yours,” you say, hips lurching towards him as you feel slickness gathering in your underwear.

“Oh, really? Anything any time?” he repeats back to you, his features a shade darker now.

“Mhm,” you murmur with glazed eyes. “I’m all yours to play with,” you tell him, and Joel tenses next to you. You slide a leg over his, turning closer to him, your body begging for any kind of touch from him. Joel goes to reciprocate and lean into you but stops short, pulling back slightly.

“Wait, darlin’. You gotta promise me what I said, though,” Joel says, sobering up a bit. You look into his eyes and dip your head in confirmation.

“Say it,” he demands, and you wince a little, desperation clawing at your insides.

“J-joel, I don’t want to go running from you. I won’t let you keep me from living my life. P-please, please just let me be yours,” you beg, not caring how helpless and vulnerable you sound right now. You want this more than anything you can ever recall wanting, just for him to call you his and mean it in a real, tangible way. You gulp down the sob that wants to come out of you, blinking and sniffling quickly to try to hide it.

“Okay, okay, sweet girl. I’m sorry. I just care so much about ya, you know that, right? I’d never want to make that same mistake again.” Joel’s hold on you tightens as he sees how much this is affecting you.

“I know,” you tell him, pressing your forehead to his. “You will never be a mistake to me, never. Couldn’t ever regret being your girl,” you say, liking how the words sound spilling off your tongue. Joel seems to be appeased by your words and believe them, because his features quickly melt back into a soft, heady gaze as he stares into your eyes.

“You like bein’ my girl, hm?” Joel asks, voice low and slightly scratchy. He brushes his lips across your cheek and you breathe out shakily.

“Mhm. Every time you say it, I feel… so…” you trail off with a little smile, unable to even find a word to express it.

“My girl,” he whispers next to your ear, and you giggle at the tickling sensation and joy his words bring you. “I’m thinking,” he says, placing a kiss on your neck right below your ear, “we should,” he continues, another kiss closer to your lips on your jawline, “celebrate.” His lips find yours and you kiss him feverishly, barely letting him come up for air as you slide your tongue into his mouth and flip your body on top of his, sinking down onto him.

“Yes,” you say simply, finally releasing your lips from his. Joel smirks, his eyes glistening with lust for you as he notices every curve of you press against his mostly naked body.

“So eager when you get what you want, aren’t ya?” he says, the sparkle in his eye turning devious as his hands grip your hips, pulling down so you grind against his quickly hardening cock.

“Don’t have everything I want yet,” you reply, pushing your center onto his cock again, and Joel groans at the warmth radiating off your core through your clothes as you brush over his cock.

“About to rip these fucking clothes off of you, my insatiable little thing,” he grunts, immediately diving into the demanding, possessive persona you’ve grown accustomed to when he’s turned on.

“I’d like to see you try,” you squeak out quickly before hopping off his lap and using the bed to bounce yourself down onto the plush carpet. You giggle as Joel’s hand reaches out and just misses to grab you and pull you back to him. He growls, low and deep in his throat as he sits up and quickly launches off the bed, coming right for you. You dart around the room on light feet, Joel’s lumbering form struggling to keep up with you.

“The things I’m gonna do when I catch you, sweet girl,” he says, a sinful smirk on his gorgeous face, “You’ll wish you never tried this little stunt.”

“What, gonna punish me with your big cock?” you quip back, giggling like a mad woman as you hop up on the bed and sprint across it, heading for the bedroom door. Joel simply growls again, laser focused on his mission to get you back in his arms.

You dare a glance back and Joel is close on your tail, but you’re already on the stairs, halfway down them when a large arm wraps around your waist, stopping you mid run and nearly knocking the breath out of you. You haven’t stopped laughing throughout the entire chase, loving how worked up Joel was over the whole thing, but it’s cut short as your torso slams into his arm on the impact.

“Got you,” Joel says, menacing and quiet, tucking his arm tighter around you and pulling you into his chest with a thump. You don’t have a moment to catch your breath, being suddenly spun around, Joel’s large hand on your chest forcing you down onto your ass as you sprawl back on the stairs. Your chest heaves with excitement when you look at Joel standing above you on a lower part of the stairs, keeping your body down with just his hand alone as he snakes his arm out from around your waist and uses that hand to yank his oversized shirt you’re wearing up and pull down your boxer shorts and underwear. He kneels down, his cock out moments later, and he tugs under your thighs to pull you right into him as he slams his throbbing, dripping cock right into you without any preamble. A loud, guttural noise flies out of his mouth while your own breath is caught in your throat feeling him fill you so quickly. He’s moving already, barely giving your body a moment to register the sheer thickness of him. His eyes are flooded with untamed, savage energy as he delivers his discipline upon your body, recklessly thrusting in quick, sharp thrusts.

“J-joel,” you whine out, still unsure if the walls of your cunt are adjusting to him. Everything feels so tight and raw, your whole body tense from the way he’s moving.

“Don’t wanna hear any whining,” he grits out through ragged breaths. “Take my cock and be a good fucking girl about it.”

You whimper, his words sending your walls clenching around him and another rush of wetness coating his cock.

“Mmm,” Joel murmurs, feeling how slick you’re quickly getting, pussy squelching under him with pure need. He pulls out so quickly your body shudders upwards several inches, confused by the swift change before Joel manhandles your hips roughly and flips you onto your hands and knees, barely giving you a chance to catch yourself on them.

“If you thought that was a punishment, sweet girl…” Joel ambles, stroking one finger down your spine, sending your whole back spasming under his touch. “Look at how you fall apart for me…” Joel purrs. “What would it take… to break you, hm? Have you beggin’ for me to fill you again…” You’re equally fearful of and turned on by his twisted tone and the look on his face as you glance over your shoulder to give him doe-like, pleading eyes. His hands grip each of your ass cheeks, kneading them roughly before delivering a hard smack onto one of them.

“Nothing… I-I’m begging now… Joel, p-please,” you cry out softly, praying he’ll listen.

“Lucky I’m feeling generous for my girl tonight, aren’t you?” You nod furiously, popping your ass in his face slightly as your hips writhe for his touch between them. “Even after that little stunt you pulled…”

Joel’s finger explores your slit now, gently sliding down it and to your entrance, swirling a teasing finger. “Could fill this drippin’ little hole with my cock, is that what you want, baby?” he purrs as he teases your entrance with the tip of his finger, pushing it in.

You nod quickly again, knowing he likes it when you’re eager and begging. “Fill me, fill me Joel,” you say desperately, fingers clawing into the carpet on the stairs. Joel’s other hand trails down your back with light touches from the tips of his fingers and you whimper, your entire body shivering with the tantalizing touch.

“Ain’t gonna say please?” Joel asks as his hand reaches your ass, squeezing hard enough to leave a mark.

“P-please,” you correct yourself hastily, swallowing hard, feeling your body starting to break out in a sweat with the animalistic need you’re feeling for Joel right now.

“Good girl. That’s better.” He smirks, withdrawing all touch from you as he repositions himself behind you, his hard cock beginning to push in between your legs devastatingly slow, and as usual, you find yourself impressed with the restraint he can have when you’ve never been able to resist a single thing he does to you. Once again without warning, he slides himself inside of you, pushing up to the hilt, getting as deep as your body allows him at this angle.

“That’s it, baby, such a good girl,” he says more lovingly now, fingers kneading the supple skin of your hips as he holds you steady while he trusts in and out of you. You’re already moaning, the feeling of his cock at this angle sending you into a quick plummet towards release every single time.

“F-fuck, Joel, f-faster,” you manage to whimper, pushing your head down further to get an even better angle for him to hit the sensitive spot deep inside of you. Joel obeys without any question or comment, an unusual occurrence, but you can hear from the noises he’s making that he’s just as undone at this angle as you are, able to get deeper and feel your walls clench around him so deliciously.

“L-look so p-pretty takin’ my cock,” Joel says, his voice straining with his ragged thrusts. “Play with yourself, wanna feel you come with me,” he demands, and you slip your finger on your clit, rubbing circles and melting into all the pleasurable sensations your body is taking right now.

Joel’s movements slow down, dragging his cock in and out along your fluttering walls and you yell out, his name spilling from your lips repeatedly. The languid circles on your clit quicken while you reach your breaking point, a fever pitch breaking within you as you moan out pathetically for him, your whole body shaking and shuddering as stars explode in your vision. Joel rides you through half your orgasm, a few pumps into you before your clenching walls draw his own pleasure out of him and he comes deep inside of you, crying out your name in the process. His hips twitch and buck as you whimper at the sensation, your finger continuing to rub as a second quick orgasm tears through you from the aftershocks. Joel curses and hisses through his teeth as you bear down on him again, feeling you explode underneath him while you come all over his cock another time. You collapse onto your belly, bringing Joel down with you. He lays half on top of you, the both of you unable to speak while you catch your breath.

Joel places sweet, lazy kisses along the skin closest to him on your back, sighing heavily. “Fuckin’ incredible, baby,” he whispers, biting you playfully on a sensitive, ticklish spot.

You let out a tired laugh and wiggle under him before he pulls out of you, moving to readjust your clothing so it’s back on completely. He tucks his arms under your shoulders and lifts you up, and then slides them to your thighs, continuing to lift you and you gladly let him, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist and arms around his neck as he carries you the short distance back to the bedroom. He’s gentle as he lays you down, following up with pulling the bedsheet over you and crawling into the bed next to you. You two kiss for what feels like ages, no expectation in any of the meetings between your lips, just the desire to feel the others warmth and affection. Joel lets out murmurs of “my girl” periodically between kisses, building the emotion inside of you until you feel a single tear slide from your eye, traveling down onto the pillow beneath you.

“Your girl,” you find yourself quietly whispering as the two of you fall asleep cradled in each other’s arms.

With your parents out of town, you get to spend the entire weekend at Joel’s without anyone wondering where you are, and it’s some of the best hours of your life, holing up in his house together. You only leave to take Benny for his walks, get him food from your parents’ place, and on Saturday night to sneak into your parents’ pool to skinny dip in the dark. It’s exhilarating, letting Joel chase you around in the pool as you splash at him with the promise of something sexy to come after.

Joel cooks for you - breakfasts and lunches, and he brings you fresh fruit and periodic snacks while you lounge around, binge watching new reality shows for Joel to try and a movie that makes you cry. When you look at Joel through your tears, you notice the shimmer of tears in his and try to suppress your smile. You order pizza for dinner, learning that Joel’s go-to is a pepperoni and mushroom pizza, which happens to be at the top of your list too so you don’t have to argue about it.

You live in Joel’s clothes, not even bothering to stop at your place for anything since Joel cheekily suggested that you go without underwear, leading to yet another mind-blowing round of sex that leaves you pleasantly exhausted. That’s how it goes, the both of you in close quarters together - one small flirtatious comment leads to Joel’s tongue on your cunt, your mouth around his cock, or him buried deep inside of you for countless times over that Saturday and Sunday.

Everything is so easy, and you never run out of things to talk about together over the course of the days you spend together. When Sunday evening rolls around, you pout continuously at the prospect of having to leave and for the two of you to have to go back to reality and work the following day. Your parents are supposed to come back tonight, and you know you can’t stay at Joel’s much longer. He caresses your naked body to his once more after a particularly frenzied fuck, knowing you’d have to leave afterwards he wanted to leave you with something to think about tonight. And rest assured, you certainly will be.

You groan, looking at him and opening your mouth to speak.

“I know,” Joel says, placing a gently finger on your lips. “You’ve gotta get going, angel.”

“Nooo,” you whine, burying your face in his chest.

“Clingy little thing,” he jests, counteracting his words by clinging you tighter to him and laughing.

“You’re clingy too, remember all the times you had to fuck me this weekend ‘cause your cock gets hard if I even look at you a certain way?” you poke back with a raised eyebrow, challenging him.

“Don’t start talkin’ about my cock now, or you know what happens,” Joel warns, even though he knows neither of you have time for what would come next. “C’mon now, I’ll walk you down,” he says with a nudge into your side.

You frown but slide out of Joel’s bed, throwing on another one of his shirts and pairs his boxers. You are somewhat eager to wear something that fits you after days spent with this as your uniform, but you’ll miss having the feel and scent of Joel covering your body at all times. This certainly won’t be the last time you put on his clothes, anyways, you think as a comfort to yourself.

Joel follows you down to his kitchen, where he holds your hips as you stand at the sliding back door.

“Thanks for stayin’ over sweetheart,” Joel says before tugging your body flush with his, leading you into a warm embrace.

“Should be thanking you,” you reply, thinking of all the food, comfort, and care he gave you.

“Alright, off with you now,” Joel says, reaching around you and opening the door. He’s still got his arms wrapped around you in a hug, and he moves the few steps with you until you’re on the threshold of the door. You giggle at the awkwardness of his steps following yours before he captures your mouth in several kisses, the two of you leaning outside of the door now. You pull away reluctantly and place a hand on his chest, smiling coyly up at him.

“Bye,” you say quietly, and Joel steps backwards into his house before you turn to head back to your parents’ house. It’s early evening, and they’re supposed to be back in a few hours, giving you plenty of time to shower and change into fresh clothes that aren’t Joel’s, take care of the house, and get Benny settled back into your parents place after spending the weekend with you and Joel. He’s been at your heels as you said your goodbyes, and you call for him to follow you out of Joel’s house.

When you look up from Benny and over the fence towards your parents’ yard, you lock eyes with one of the last people you’d wanted or expected to see - your dad.

Well, shit.

taglist: @paleidiot​​​ @mumma-moonchild​​​ @soph55​​​    

#sorry but i'm so soft for joel and this reader it aint funny anymore #fic: closer #i am suffering #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader

[nickfowlerrr]

Fandom Leap -

Chapter 1

Fandom Leap Masterlist

prologue / chapter two

universe: MCU

(chapter specific) pairing: bucky barnes x reader

words: 2.5k

notes: i’m so excited to be able to kick off the first chapter of this collaboration! thank you so much to @supraveng - not only for letting me participate but also for reading this over for me! i can’t wait to see how this story progresses with the other universes and writers. and i will be writing an epilogue for the end of the series, too! 🥰

thank you in advance for reading! as always reblogs and comments are welcome and so appreciated. be sure to check out the rest of the series as it’s updated! 🩵

You hadn’t realized how tired you’d been until you felt yourself dozing while you laid on the couch. Your plans weren’t to fall asleep so early, in fact, quite the opposite. You were having a movie night!

You had gotten home not too long ago, getting some chores done before plopping down on the sofa to get the first movie of the lineup started.

It was maybe ten minutes into Iron Man that you felt yourself getting sleepy. You needed to nip that in the bud quickly if you wanted to get through the first couple movies tonight. You stood from where you were laying and sighed to yourself. 

This would probably be a bit more fun if you had people to watch them with…

Alas, you were alone. 

Your stomach grumbling caught you off guard and pulled you from your thoughts. You’d skipped lunch, and you were so caught up in your head on your way home, you hadn’t even thought to stop to grab something. 

You let the movie play on as you walked into the kitchen. Pulling the cabinets open, you found them near empty and grimaced to yourself at the sight. You hadn’t had time to go to the store lately, and you weren’t feeling up for it tonight either. 

Puffing, you decided to just order some take out.

You looked up your favorite Chinese place to put in an online order for delivery, but upon checking out, found that they were doing pick-up orders only. 

You considered ordering food from somewhere else for a second, not wanting to have to leave the comfort of home again today, but once you had your meal picked out - you were suddenly craving that and that alone.

So, you sucked it up and placed the order, pausing the movie on screen and trudging to grab your shoes. You were at least happy you had decided to wait on showering and changing into pjs until later.

It would take you fifteen minutes to get to the restaurant and your estimated pick-up time was right in line with that, so you didn’t waste time as you slipped on your shoes and grabbed your keys and bag before heading out.

—

It wasn’t busy at all as you pulled into the nearly empty parking lot, only a few cars around. You parked in an empty spot in front of the place and shut your engine off before grabbing your bag off the passenger seat and got out.

A weird chill passed over you as you walked toward the door, but you didn’t pay it much of any mind.

As you pulled the entrance door open, you felt something… change. You couldn’t explain it, but it just felt different. You shook it off as you walked in, though you only grew more confused as you entered.

You had been here just last week, but somehow the interior was completely different. You weren’t sure how they’d remodeled and redecorated the place so quickly, but it was impressive.

You were also thrown off by how many people were inside as compared to the empty parking lot. 

As you walked up to the counter, a woman you’d never seen before greeted you. You were once more surprised, because you always had one of the same two people working every single time you’d been here.. But of course, you didn’t say anything about it. You just smiled as she walked over to help you.

“Hi, I placed an online order,” you told her.

“Great, name?” she asked.

You gave her your name and watched as she walked away to check the bags along the pickup order table, her brows furrowing as she went. You felt nervous as you watched her double back to where she started and began looking through all of the tags once more.

The bell on the door rang but you didn’t turn around at the noise, only felt someone step up behind you as you started a line. You were playing with your hands, shifting on your feet as the woman returned to you.

“I’m sorry, I’m not seeing that order here. Do you have the confirmation?”

“Oh, uhm, yes, I do. Give me one second,” you reached for your phone in your pocket, “and I’ll pull it up. Sorry,” you offered out of habit.

“It’s no problem. Do you mind if I help the customer behind you?” she asked kindly.

“Oh gosh, yeah, of  course,” you said, stepping to the side as you looked behind you.

Your breath caught in your throat for a second as your eyes went a little wide. You nearly dropped your phone as you instantly recognized the man who stood behind you.

He met your eye, offering the tiniest of smiles as he stepped up to the counter. You quickly flit your eyes away, your mind racing. Was that.. Was that really him?

You chanced a glance over to him from the corner of your eye and near instantly confirmed your suspicions. Yeah, you thought, that’s definitely him.

Should you say something? Or just let him be?.. Really though, what were the odds of you ever seeing him in person again. This was like a time only thing…

God, you used to swear you’d never go up to a celebrity if you saw them in person, but as you stood there, no one else seeming to pay him any mind, you decided just saying hello wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. He was a person, too, right? A small greeting between two people was normal. Also it was him. And you weren’t sure you’d ever forgive yourself if you didn’t take this chance to say a simple hello.

You’d been so caught up, you hadn’t heard any of the conversation he’d had with the woman, but now as she went to go find his order, he stood there at the counter alone, waiting.

You tried to speak, but no noise would come out. You managed to clear your throat, though, and at the sound, he glanced over to you once again. 

Another small tilt of his lips as he seemed to eye you up from where he stood before he cleared his own throat and looked away again, his hands shoved into his pockets. 

“Hi,” you offered after a second, mustering up all the courage you could to get your lips to move.

He looked at you fully then, clearly a little surprised. It took him a second but he finally responded with a lopsided smile, “Hi.”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you, I just uhm, just wanted to say, I’m, I’m a big fan,” you told him, trying not to let your anxiousness be heard so obviously.

He narrowed his eyes at your words, brows furrowing as he looked at you, “A fan?”

As you’re about to clarify, confused as to why he was confused, the woman returned.

“Here you go, Sergeant Barnes,” she handed him his bag, not a hint of jest in her voice, nor his as he thanked her.

You looked from her back to him, letting out a nervous titter as somewhere in the back of your mind, you recognized the sound of the bell ringing again.

“Uhm,-” you started before another familiar voice interrupted you.

“Man, will you hurry up? How long does it take you to grab food?”

You looked to the door that was being held open and again, found yourself dumb, your mouth still parted but no words coming out. The recognition in your eyes must have been obvious as Bucky looked from you to Sam quizzically. 

“Did you find the confirmation,” the woman asks, pulling your attention back to her. You’re sure you looked beyond flustered and confused - you absolutely were. As you turned to face her again, Bucky slowly walked away, heading over to where Sam was by the entrance.

“Yes, uh,” you handed her your phone before glancing behind you again, the bright lights coming from just beyond the door causing your brows to furrow before it closed - both men still inside. They spoke as they stood there, glancing over to you once, twice before you turned back to the counter. What the hell?

“I see the problem,” the woman tells you, “it’s the wrong restaurant. Sorry about that,” she offers, though it’s no fault of hers. 

You stand there, perplexed. And the more confused you find yourself, the more anxious you are. 

How could you possibly be at the wrong place? You come here all of the time. You know exactly where you are. At least you thought you did. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, with a shake of your head, “that’s my bad. Long week, I guess,” you force a breathy laugh and fake a smile as you turn to leave.

You see both men still by the door, watching you closely as you approach. You nod at them as you keep straight on, in a bit of a stupor now. 

As you push the door open, you feel like a rug has been pulled from beneath your feet. The wind seemingly knocked out of you. You blink once. Twice. A shake of your head and a humorless scoff as you glance around briefly - you don’t even know what to think.

What the hell is going on?

Where are you? 

Where is your car?!

Instead of being met with the same empty parking lot you’d parked in, you find yourself on a busy sidewalk along a busy city street. No parking lot, no emptiness, and no car. 

“Are you alright?” 

You turn and are met with the bright blue eyes that’d caught you earlier.

“Where am I?” you ask, growing frantic at the unknown.

“Hey, it’s alright, take a breath,” he instructs gently. “Sam,” he calls over.

“Sam?” you ask in disbelief.

“Sam Wilson, that’s my name,” he greets as you huff a dry laugh.

“Okay, Sam, and so - should I call you Bucky?” you ask sarcastically. “What’s going on? Am I being pranked or something? Is this a show?” you ask, eyes darting all around,waiting for cameras to make themselves known. “Or are you guys filming and just staying in character or what?”

“Allllright,” Bucky drags out, looking in your eyes as he tries to assess you, “I’m gonna take that as a sign that you are not okay.”

“Yeah, I’m not. This isn’t funny, I’m - I just- where am I?” you ask again.

“New York.”

“Yeah right. Where am I really?”

“New York,” he insists again. “Where do you think you are?”

“Not New York. I was just - I just went to pick up my dinner and now - what the hell is happening? What is going on?”

“Bucky, I’m gonna call them, just keep an eye on her,” Sam instructs before he walks a little ways down the sidewalk.

“Seriously, why is he calling you Bucky?” you ask.

“Because that’s my name,” he answers matter-of-factly. 

“You’re Bucky Barnes?”

“That’s me,” he confirms, a little uncomfortably. 

You stare at him blankly for a second. Your brain is playing catch up. Wrong restaurant. No parking lot. Car’s gone. These guys are acting like they’re their characters. You’re in New York? He’s still insisting he’s Bucky.

“Oh…” you breathe, mostly to yourself. Relaxing a bit at the realization you’ve come to. “I’m dreaming,” you laugh.

He looks at you with even more real concern as you lean with your back against the wall of the building. He thinks for a second before deciding to speak.

“I don’t want to freak you out, but no. You’re not. We are both very much awake.”

“No, we’re not,” you deny easily. “I was watching Iron Man and I fell asleep and now I’m dreaming of Bucky Barnes because I’ve been wanting to watch The Winter Soldier all day. And I will wake up..anytime now,” you muse and gesticulate vaguely.

“You were watching Iron Man?” he asks, sounding just as confused as he’d been earlier.

“Yeah. Started watching the MCU movies over in timeline order because I have nothing better to do on a Friday night.”

“MCU movies?”

“Yep.”

He shakes his head, “I’m lost.”

“Ha!” you laugh out before sighing, letting your head hit the wall lightly. “Ahh,” you sigh, rubbing your eyes, “I just gotta wake up.”

“Look, sweetheart, really, you’re awake.”

“I’m not. I’m not because if I am, then either you’re a scarily good actor who enjoys fucking with innocent people for the hell of it, or… you’re crazy and really believe you’re a fictional superhero, or I like, randomly jumped into a different universe where you’re really real or something,” you sputter a laugh. “So, I’m dreaming. That’s the only explanation.”

“Hey,” Sam calls to you both, “come on. Strange is expecting us.”

You laugh again, you can’t help it. Well, what the hell, you think. As long as I’m dreaming, might as well live it up.

—

“So you felt a change, walked into the restaurant, and found yourself somewhere else..”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Huh.”

“After all that, all those tests and questions, that’s all you got for me? ‘Huh’,” you question the man.

“I don’t think the door had anything to do with it. I thought maybe it was a portal of some kind, but that wouldn’t account for the changes in this reality as opposed to yours - from what you’ve told me. Half the events that have happened in your universe haven’t happened here and vice versa. And of course, there’s the whole,”

“Superheroes not being real thing,” you finish for him.

“Right. Superheroes.”

“But she, herself, she’s okay, right?” Bucky asks as he stands off to the side, out of Strange’s way, with his arms crossed. He’d been oddly protective over you the whole walk over, standing close to you as you explained the night’s events over again to him and Sam - and he only left your side once you’d gotten here at Strange’s request. Not that you minded at all, in fact, you definitely enjoyed it, but it was still unexpected. As you went through endless questions from Strange regarding you and life and everything in between, Bucky’s eyes seemingly never left you. 

“She’s fine. Physically, there’s nothing wrong. I’m just not sure what exactly sent her here. She’s definitely out of her universe.”

“She’s definitely still sitting right here in front of you,” you point out, causing him to turn back to you from where he was looking at Bucky.

“I’m sure there’s some way we can get you home, I just might need some time to figure it out, ensure that it’s safe.”

“Okay, uhm-,” as you spoke, an odd chill came over you again, freezing you as your eyes went wide.

“What is it?” Bucky asks, instantly at attention, concern clear in his words. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just.. That chill again..”

“You’re jumping,” Strange says, eyes a little wide as his gaze shoots over to you, as if he’s made a sudden connection, the epiphany of something still unknown to you coming over him.

“What the hell does that mean?” Bucky asks the question that was on the tip of your tongue.

“It means she’s-” another chill, another strange feeling of something being shifted, and then you can’t hear him anymore. You can’t see him, or Bucky. You’re alone? Possibly? You aren’t sure because all of a sudden you’re… where were you? 

“What the hell?” you breathed to yourself. 

“Where am I now?”

#fandom leap #fanfiction collab #bucky barnes x reader #i wanted to title this ‘dude where’s my car’ but i talked myself out of it lolll

[yesimwriting]

Final Girl (Part 3)

- Final Girl Series Masterlist (updated part 1 - 9 and extras) 

A/n yall have been so kind!! all of the messages, likes, comments, and reblogs for this series have made me so happy! this chapter is a little bit of filler bc my original idea for this part was way too long especially with how busy this week is supposed to be, so i sort of split it!! 

also if this has pacing issues, i’m sorry, i had a panic attack yesterday and a really bad migraine today so it’s been kinda rough lately but i wanted to get this out!! Part 4 is going to have a little more going on :)

if this is messy pls don’t give up on me 😭 i promise the next part will have more going on i just didn’t want to leave y’all waiting forever and we needed a bit of a filler

also if anyone wants to leave me an ask about this series pls do:) i’ve had so much fun talking about Final Girl

Series Summary: Y/n can’t believe that she has to leave the only home she’s ever known just because her mom’s latest boyfriend has a house in some town in California. Just as she’s starting to think that Woodsboro might not be that bad, something life altering happens after she agrees to sleep over at  Becker’s house. Now her name is practically synonymous with Ghostface’s. 

Chapter Summary: Y/n’s first day back after the incident. 

----

My reflection has never bothered me more. I know vanity is such a stupid thing to worry about now after what happened to Casey, but I can’t help the way I scrutinize my appearance. 

The attention drawing cotton-y bandaid that was placed on the gash on the side of my temple has been (thankfully) downgraded to a regular bandaid. That’s fine--I can accept that. What I can’t accept are the stupid cuts caused by all of that glass.

After being released from the hospital, it took no time for me to learn that it’s going to be awhile before I can comfortably wear pants again. My arms are a little less cut up, so the white, long sleeved shirt I picked out covers my injuries without irritating them. I tried on a pair of leggings and I barely got them to my thighs without wincing.

So now I’m wearing the most comfortable skirt I own. Normally, I wouldn’t even think twice about it, I wear this skirt so often, but it barely covers any of the cuts on the back of my legs. God...people are going to think I’m doing this for attention, especially since media outlets keep calling my house. 

Ugh--this is as good as it’s going to get for my first day back. I pick my backpack up from my bed. My eyelids feel so heavy I have to fight the urge to collapse back into bed. 

The walk downstairs is painfully slow. Once I’m finally in the hall that leads to the kitchen, I stop. A vague confusion clouds my thoughts. Was I going to the kitchen? What did I want from the kitchen?

“Mornin’, kiddo.” I blink at the sound of Wells’ voice. At least it’s offering me a sense of a direction. 

Stepping fully in the kitchen, I greet back, “Good morning.” 

He eyes me for a long second, piercing blue irises lingering in a way that makes me feel uneasy in my own skin. “Skirt’s a little grown, ain’t it?” When my only reaction is to furrow my eyebrows, he continues, “What happened to those little girl dresses you used to wear? I liked those.” 

I grab the strap of my backpack, shifting slightly. I stopped wearing those dresses after he had been dating my mom for a few months. “Outgrew them, I guess.” 

Wells nods once, the motion gruff as he moves to grab his mug. He lets out a curt, gruff noise. 

“Oh, Wells.” Like always, my mom’s voice chases away all the tension. “Don’t you know better than telling a girl what to wear? Especially a teenager. Now ease up, 16-year-old me would make Y/n look like a saint.” With that, my mom finally looks at me. “You look pretty, like always, I especially like your top.” It takes me a second to realize that my mom’s referencing the fact that I stole this shirt from her closet. I let out a soft, slow laugh. “You okay?” 

I nod drastically. “Yep, just want to get the first day back over with.” 

“I can’t believe you only took one day off. When I was your age, I’d have taken half a week off for less.” 

“It’s going to be bad no matter when I go back. My name’s been all over the news.” I release the strap of my backpack, scratching the back of my wrist. “Plus it’s junior year and that one day off already has me drowning in makeup work. I can’t afford to fall behind. Junior year is the year colleges look at most. This year could make or break whether or not I get into Princeton.” 

My mom holds her hands up in defense. “Yes, I know, you ranted to me about it yesterday. Just promise me you’ll listen to your body. I don’t love that you haven’t had your follow up appointment yet to confirm whether or not you have a concussion.” 

“Mom, I’m fine, promise. I’ll let you know if I start to feel weird.” 

She watches me for a long second, likely attempting to scan me the way an MRI machine would. “Fine, you need a ride or--” 

“Actually, a friend’s picking me up.” 

At that my mom tilts her head in a way that’s so knowing I feel the urge to confess even though I’ve done nothing. “A friend as in one of those two boys that spent all weekend calling and checking in on you?” 

My mom spent the last two days at my side. Normally it would have annoyed me, but it was actually nice. It reminded me of life before Wells. There was one downside, though. She saw how often Billy and Stu called. It wasn’t terrible and she probably would have picked up on it anyway, but it’s opened the ground to a lot of jokes and comments on her part.

“You’re the one who brought them into this. I would have never thought to call Billy while I was at the hospital.” That’s true. Even though we were friends before the incident, I wouldn’t have thought to call anyone except my mom. “And they’re just trying to be there for me like good friends.” 

At that, my mom leans against the kitchen island. “Y’know when I was your age, I had a guy that just wanted to be a good friend and drove me to school. Now I have a daughter.” 

I roll my eyes, “Haha. Yes--I’m going to get pregnant in the less than 10-ish minutes we’re going to have before we need to get to class.” 

“It only took about 8 minutes to make you, and that includes me getting dressed and fixing my hair after. Just saying.” 

I make a point of fake gagging. “Bye mom, Wells.“

“What? I was joking!” 

I walk towards the front door. A hand on my shoulder makes me nearly jump out of my skin. “Mom! You scared me.” 

She offers me a sheepish smile, “You know I’m kidding, right? They’re nice for caring.” 

“I know, mom.” 

With a sigh, she continues, “Just be sa--” 

“Oh my God, mom! I’m not having se--” 

“Easy, pumpkin,” she laughs off my outburst, “I mean in general. Don’t strain yourself and don’t feel like you need to push through. You want to go home early and I’ll pick you up.” 

I smile softly. “Yeah, I will.” 

With that, I open the front door. The sun is so bright I have to drop my head as I walk down the driveway. Wells’ house is objectively nicer than the house my mom and I lived in when we were still in Texas, but I still find myself missing the familiarity of our old front porch. 

Squinting, I look up and notice a car waiting next to the mailbox. How did I miss that? Rubbing my eyes with one hand, I approach the vehicle. 

I pull open the door to the backseat. Two sets of eyes turn towards me. “You know you guys didn’t have to wait for me.” I push my backpack into the car before sitting down. “You could’ve honked or something,” 

“We just got here,” Billy says easily, but I’m not sure I believe him. 

Stu turns in his seat to face me better as I shut the car door. “Plus we don’t mind giving you time to get all dolled up. Especially since today’s going to be a total bloodbath.” 

His wording leaves me more confused than upset. I draw my eyebrows together, shifting awkwardly. “What do you mean?” 

“Everyone’s gone crazy over what happened. I think more people were talking about you than Casey, and Casey’s the one that got gutted. It’s all over the news. They hung her from that tree in--” Billy moves his hand from the console in order to smack the side of Stu’s head. “Ow, man--what was that for?” 

“It’s not even 8 yet, at least let her wake up first before you traumatize her.” 

The thought of Casey makes my stomach twist, but I’m not focused in on anything enough to really react. Tiredly, I pull my backpack onto my lap and squeeze it to my body. “It’s fine,” I’m not sure if I’m talking to them or myself. 

Stu and Billy exchange a look that I barely register before resting my chin on my bag. “Are you okay? You didn’t even do that cute, little glare thing you do when you want me to shut up.” 

“I’m fine,” I answer a little too quickly, forcing myself to sit up some more, “A little tired.” Stu’s watching me a little too carefully and I catch Billy glancing at me through the rearview mirror. “Seriously?” Sighing, I shift in my seat, “First my mom and now you guys. I’m fine.”

My reaction is just a little too angry. Maybe if I felt a little more rested, I would have known better. Stu moves until he’s siting in the passenger seat normally. “Crying over the fact that you’re a total mommy’s girl.” 

Rolling my eyes and ignoring the way the motion irritates my migraine, I lean back in my seat. “Put on a seatbelt, asshole.” 

Even though that’s said with more bite and irritation than anything I’ve ever said to him, Stu laughs. It’s light and terribly offensive. I frown, looking over at Billy as heat crawls up my neck and towards my face. He’s just barely fighting down a grin. “It’s not that funny.” 

“No,” Stu sarcastically agrees, “That was so mean of you. I can’t remember the last time someone insulted me and tried to take care of me at the same time.” 

I cross my arms around my backpack. “Why did I agree to getting into a contained space with you two so early in the morning?” 

“Because you don’t have a license.” Billy looks way too smug as he turns the wheel as we move down a curb. 

I glare at him. “You extorted that information out of me while I was super out of it and half asleep.” 

“You said it yourself, it’s not like one of us asked.” 

He’s right and I hate it. I sink further into the seat, tempted to shut my eyes, but knowing that there’s no guarantee that I won’t fall asleep if I do. “Whatever.” 

Stu half laughs at that before starting to talk about a new scary movie that’s coming out. The plot sounds kind of basic, but I’m not one to judge until I see the movie. Normally, I’d be totally invested. I kind of like when Stu rambles about something he’s interested in, but now I’m struggling to hold my head up. 

I don’t register that we’re in the school parking lot until both Billy and Stu get out of the car. Once they’re both out, I shake my head once in an attempt to clear my thoughts. Get it together.

When I step out of the car, I make a point of keeping my eyes on the ground in front of me. Stu may exaggerate every once in awhile, but I don’t think he’s wrong about school. My mom has been fielding calls since the morning I was discharged from the hospital and last night while I was flipping through channels, I saw my face three times.

Before I can even think, a bright flash makes me flinch. The light is like a punch behind the eye thanks to my headache. That is followed by a series of other equally bright and irritating camera shutters. 

Shit. 

Billy steps towards me, dropping his voice so that only I can hear, “You know we don’t have to.” 

Taking a settling breath, I tilt my chin up a fraction of an inch. “It’s fine,” I say, hoping that I’ll convince myself, “Can’t hide forever.” 

We walk forward, me a few steps ahead of Billy and Stu. My fast pace is a sad attempt at ripping off the bandaid. 

“Excuse--Excuse me, miss!” I squeeze the strap of my backpack so tightly my knuckles must be white from the tension. “Miss Y/n L/n.” The woman that waves me down is holding a large microphone. She barely glances at me before turning her attention back to the camera man that followed her as she chased me. “Hi. Gale Weathers. I covered the last one of these.” 

I wince. “I’m sorry, when you say ‘the last one of these’ do you mean the last murder or--” 

“...And we’re rolling!” In nature, bright colors are meant to warn living things of poison. I think that logic could be applied to Gale Weathers and her auburn hair and blood red lips. “I’m Gale Weathers and I’m bringing you an exclusive with the lone survivor of what some are calling the worst murder in Woodsboro history.” She then turns towards me, “Now, Y/n, our viewers want to know exactly what you’re feeling.” 

Her microphone is way to close to my face. “Well, Gale, I’m glad you asked,” I’m speaking in the polite tone I used to reserve for rude customers when I worked in the mall last summer, “I’m feeling fan-freakin’-tastic!” 

The false enthusiasm jars her the way I hoped it would. She brings the microphone back to her. “Really?” 

“No, you vulture. Ambush interviewing is as tacky as that suit.” 

With that, I turn away and attempt to storm into school with an aura that scares away reporters. I’ve only ever seen that kind of confident magic come from my mom, but she’s half my genetic material, that means it must be in me somewhere, right?

Apparently wrong, because the cameras continue to flash. One man gets so close to me that his rapid photographing leaves me dizzy. 

“Okay,” an arm quickly wraps around my side, stabilizing me, “You got your pictures, now leave her alone.” The scent of Tatum’s perfume is comforting as she guides me the rest of the way inside. Once we’re inside, we’re granted the semblance of some privacy. “And I thought they were bad yesterday. Are you okay?” 

I nod, relaxing a little at her casual expression. Maybe if I try hard enough, I’ll be able to pretend that this is an average Tuesday. “I’m fine, I’m just tired, and I can’t believe how obsessed everyone is.” 

“Of course they’re obsessed.” For the first time ever, Randy’s voice is completely unwelcome. “You’re the sole survivor, the only witness to tell the story, the--for lack of better term--final girl.” 

Being in a friend group with so many people that are really into horror movies is all fun and games until they summarize the great trauma of your life in a movie trope. “Really? I never would have thought of it that way.” 

Sidney glares at Randy in defense of me. I appreciate it, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. “It’s too soon for those kinds of jokes.” 

My sarcasm was pure venom and Sidney’s reaction, though well intentioned, only made me feel sorry. Randy offers me a sheepish sort of look that immediately makes me feel bad for being so snippy. His comment wouldn’t have bothered me so much if it wasn’t for what just happened, and he wasn’t really trying to be mean. That actually might have been an attempt to lighten the mood, especially since he knows that the final girl storyline is one of my favorites. He’s always recommending movies that end like that. 

“Thanks, Sid, but I came on a little strong. I’m sorry, Randy, I’ve been a total nightmare all day. Just ask Billy and St--” I look around, a little surprised that they’re not right behind me. Aw, I lost them in all that commotion. “Weird--they were just behind me.” Shaking off the slightly lost feeling with the turn of my head, I move on, “Ask them later. The point is, I’ve been awful. It’s not your guys’ fault that this is my life right now.” 

Randy’s expression morphs from being almost hurt to something that’s even more of a punch in the gut. He seems sympathetic. “It’s okay, you’re holding it together way more than I would be. I don’t even know how you’re at school today.” 

“Yeah, how are you even here, Y/n?” Tatum echoes, her voice a little softer than before. 

It’s a good question. Now that I’m here all those points I made about school and grades and Princeton feel so far away. “It had to happen at some point, I might as well rip off the band aid. I just want everything to go back to normal.” I shift awkwardly, watching them watch me. “And the man that did this doesn’t deserve the satisfaction of my fear.” 

After a moment, Randy prompts, “...And?” 

“And what?” 

He half smiles. “Come on, Y/n, if you want this to feel normal, you’re going to have to give us the Princeton rant.” 

I roll my eyes before scoffing. “I do not talk about Princeton often enough for you to warrant naming it a specific rant.” 

Randy raises an eyebrow at my obvious lie. “You must have really hit your head hard.” 

“Rude.“ I turn towards Tatum, “Tate, you don’t think I’m like obsessed with Princeton.

She parts her lips as she debates the way she wants to respond. Before she can say anything, Stu walks up from behind me and pulls Tatum into a hug. He then gives her a soft kiss that feels linger-y. Wait--why am I noticing that? That’s...that’s weird of me. And why does this feel more uncomfortable than the time I caught them full on making out in the girl’s bathroom? Why is that tiny display of affection sitting in my chest in a way that makes it hard to look at them? 

More annoyed at my thoughts than the way Stu cups her face, I force my myself to stare at the locker in front of me. There are polaroids of people I don’t know tapped to the front of it.

Ugh--screw the guy that threw me into that wall. My head must be totally messing with me. 

“What are you guys talking about?” Billy’s sudden appearance surprises me more than it should. At this point, I should know that when I see one the other isn’t too far behind. He has an arm around Sidney’s shoulders, and she’s leaning into his touch just enough for it to be noticeable. Since when is Billy so into PDA? 

Oh my god, what’s wrong with me? Maybe my mom was right to think I have some kind of brain injury. My eyes snap back to the locker. “Nothing.”

“Y/n’s obsession with an Ivy League school in New Jersey.”

After a moment of silence, I realize that everyone’s waiting for me to speak. “Not an obsession.” My response lacks my usual level of conviction when talking about Princeton in any capacity. I can feel the fragile way they’re all looking at me. My eyes focus on the polaroids in front of me until everything else blurs into the background. 

The polaroids have my eyes watering and I don’t know why. They’re just stupid pictures of people I don’t know. Casey’s voice echoes in my head. It’s a punch in the gut.

Stu’s voice cuts through the static of my thoughts. “Y/n? Are you o--”

“I think I remembered something.” The admission is so low I’m surprised anyone hears it. “Randy, do you have a copy of the news article? Not the first one, the second one that lists everything found at the crime scene?” 

“Yeah,” Randy admits it like it’s an apology, “In my backpack.” 

“Can I see it?”

Everyone stays quiet at that. There’s an energy in the air that makes me feel as trapped as I did in the hospital. “Come on, guys, I don’t need to be babied. The pictures aren’t going to freak me out, I was kinda there for the real thing.” 

“At the hospital, didn’t you say you were unconscious for most of it?” Billy’s remark earns him a glare so harsh that he moves his hands to hold them up in defense before dropping them to his side. 

“Fine. Whatever. Don’t show me the newspaper, I’ll find my own copy, it’s everywhere. There’s a good chance some jag-off shoved one into my locker anyways.” Ugh--why is everyone so impossible? I turn on my heels, unsure if I’m fuming or ready to burst into tears.

I don’t even make it a full step before something locks around my upper forearm. My head snaps back as the hand’s sudden grip softens. “Come on, bug.” That leaves me hesitant. Stu called me that the day after we first met. Since then, the nickname has mainly been reserved to calm me down. I’ve asked him about it before, but he always refuses to explain it. “You’re just going to make yourself sick.” 

Biting the inside of my cheek, I frown. The group learned about my weak stomach early on in our friendship. My first night drinking with them ended with me throwing up in Stu’s bathroom. That wouldn’t have been so embarrassing if I was totally wasted, but I was objectively way too sober to get that sick.

There’s some underlying quality to his words. A quality that’s too knowing, too sure. He’s being more condescending than sweet. “I think I can manage.” I pull my arm away, ignoring the way his expression blanks. “I’m not a vase or a little kid, I don’t need you all treating me like I’m that unbelievably fragile.”

Stu angles his head to the side. I force myself to tilt my chin upwards in an attempt to stand my ground. I don’t fully get whatever face off we’re in, but I’ll be damned if I lose it this quickly. “Since you’re all grown up, Y/n, look at whatever you want, but don’t come crying to me about it.” 

I take a step forward, indignation leaving my spine straight. “When have I ever--” 

“You couldn’t even spend a few hours by yourself in a hospital.”

The unfairness of his statement forces a scoff from my lips. I take a step forward. “I didn’t ask for your help then and I’m not asking for it now.” 

“Stu.” Billy’s voice is level, bordering on neutral. 

At that, Stu exhales, but he doesn’t stop staring at me. “It’s fine, Billy.” 

“Yeah,” Stu echoes, shifting towards me, “Y/n’s fine, she doesn’t need anyone.” 

A sarcastic, half thought out reply rises up my chest and jams itself in my throat. I don’t think I’ve ever thought about how much taller than me Stu is. He’s looking down at me with an intensity that hits me straight in the stomach. Great, another feeling I don’t understand. “Whatever,” I mumble, “I need to get to class.” 

The bell rings a moment after I turn. I walk to homeroom, not thinking twice about it until I’m sitting in front of an empty desk. 

My face is hot, my head hurts, and Mrs. Ramirez’s announcements are drowned out by a ringing in my ears. When the bell rings, I can’t get out of the room fast enough. Normally, Stu’s around right after homeroom, ready to walk me to math. 

I don’t know what that weird argument was in the hallway, but I’m not ready to deal with it yet. So even though I’m gripping the straps of my backpack so tightly it hurts, I take the long way to class. There are no memories of Casey in AP Calc AB, so this time when I sit at my desk, I can breathe.

By the time I’m pulling out my notebook, the bell rings. Mr. Williams walks to the front of the classroom, “Alright, everyone in their seat. For today’s exam, you are permitted the use of a graphing calculator.”

Shit. The test. I forgot about the calc test. Mr. Williams begins to hand out the exam. When he gets to me, I stop him, “Mr. Williams, I-I was wondering if I could possibly take the exam on another day? After the events of this weekend, I--” 

“Ms. L/n, I made it clear to the entire class that I do not believe in scheduling a makeup exam the day of.” 

My fingers nervously scratch at the back of my wrist. “And I understand that, and normally I’d never ask, but if you’ve seen the news--” 

“Ms. L/n, do you want to take the test or would you rather me put a 0 in the grade book?” 

I could scream. I want to scream, but instead, all I do is nod, “Take the test.” 

And with that, he places the packet on my desk. The sound it makes feels like a death sentence. The next 50 minutes are a nightmare. I don’t remember how to do half the problems, and what I do remember, I can’t seem to do right. By the time the bell rings, I’m in full on panic mode. Mr. Williams collects the test and I leave the room like it’s on fire. 

The sharp pain in my head has never been this bad. I reach my locker, unlocking it to grab my bottle of ibuprofen. I take two Advil without any water. Today totally, unbelievably sucks. I need to splash some water in my face. 

The bathroom is thankfully empty. Pushing my backpack off of my shoulders and onto the counter, I turn on the sink. The water is cool against my fingers, and for the first time all day, I feel like I can breathe. My bandaid is sticking out to me too much so I force my gaze downwards. 

There’s a long abandoned copy of a newspaper on the counter. Its corners are so wet that the words at the start and end of the article are unreadable. The page it’s opened to has no photos. I’m sure if I flipped through it I’d find something listing everything the police found inside the house that night. 

Stu’s earlier claim echoes in my head as I pick up the newspaper. I’m not sure if I’m more motivated by spite or the desire to answer the question in my head, but I guess it doesn’t matter, because the end result is the same. I turn the page, skimming the article. The intro is so long that I still haven’t gotten to the murder, let alone what the police found after. I flip ahead until I find what I’m looking for.

I read the section about everything that was found twice. They mention everything down to the burned jiffy pop and the tube of lipgloss Casey left in the living room. The paragraph never mentions the polaroids from the kitchen.

He took pictures of me from the crime scene. 

Unease leaves my stomach in knots. The killer, who talked to me on the phone like we were best friends and chose to not kill me took photos of me. 

I turn the page frantically, desperate to see if the polaroids are mentioned there. Big mistake. Casey’s photo is staring at me, but she’s not her in it. She’s hanging from that big tree in her yard and her--her intestines... 

Cold sweat leaves my hands clammy. My body knows what’s happening before I do. A stall door gets thrown open just in time for me to throw myself onto my knees. Bile and whatever’s left of last night’s dinner burn as they come up my throat. I wretch. 

An unexpected but not unpleasant touch is pressed into my back as my hair is pushed out of my face. More bile leaves me. 

After a second passes and I don’t throw up a third time, I turn my head just enough to see who’s next to me. Billy. He doesn’t say anything at my recognition, he just moves his hand up and down my back gently. 

“...I found a newspaper.” 

“Yeah, I assumed after i heard the…”

He’s trailing off to be nice. I shift in order to sit cross legged on the floor. “Right. That’s fair.” 

His hand stalls against my back. “I didn’t mean it li--” 

“I know.” My voice is too small.

Billy moves his free hand. I don’t know what he’s doing until he’s pulling the paper away from me. I let him take the newspaper and place it somewhere on the other side of him. “Why’d you look?” 

“I--earlier, I was looking at this locker in front of us and it had polaroids taped to it, and-and that made me remember that on Saturday, Casey took a bunch of pictures of me. Polaroids.” I wipe at my face with the back of my palm. "The article’s super detailed, but it didn’t mention any pictures. I-I think that means that the person took them.”  

Billy’s eyebrows draw together. The corner of his mouth turns downwards. “You’re making yourself sick over this.” 

“Because it’s a big deal!” My reaction is harsher than it should be. He’s being nice to me after I blew up at everyone this morning and they were just trying to be good friends. And after this, I’m in no position to talk about what I am and am not able to handle. “It’s a big deal that I’m alive and Casey isn’t.” Taking a shaky breath, I continue, “And I should--I have to make it right somehow. Casey’s dead and I’m alive because it fit whatever plot he wanted to make. It was total chance, the killer probably flipped a coin while outside of her house to pick which one of us would live and which one would end up like...” I gesture vaguely in the direction of the newspaper, “That.” 

He’s quiet for so long I think he may not respond at all. His hand begins to move up and down my back again in the form of small circles. “Do you really think that?” 

Shrugging, I lean into his touch. “I mean, it’s probably either that or a stalker scenario.”

“You don’t have to figure it out. Just because you’re the one that survived doesn’t mean you need to put yourself through this. Especially now. It just happened, give yourself some time.” His voice is so assuring and oddly comforting I feel my eyes water. “What’s wrong?” 

Despite myself, I almost snort. “I think you know what’s wrong.” 

He gives me a semi bitchy look. “Something else happened, I can see it on your face.” 

Frowning, I let my gaze drop to the ground. “Am I that transparent?” 

Billy moves, the hand that’s not on my back coming beneath my chin. I let him tilt my head upwards until our eyes meet. “You have no idea.”

Warmth crawls up my face. He smiles. “Fine, I’ll tell you but it’s stupid.” 

“It’s not stupid.” 

I raise an eyebrow. “Well, I’ve had a really bad headache all day and then I get to first period and Mr. Williams starts talking about an exam. And that’s how I realized that I completely forgot about the calc unit test. I tried using the whole almost murdered excuse--I kinda hated myself for it, but it doesn’t matter, because he didn’t even go for it.” With a dramatic, deprecating sigh, I start to pick at a loose thread in my shoe lace. “Mr. Williams doesn’t believe in getting out of the test the day of. There’s no way I didn’t fail it, and it’s an AP class so that’s going to mess with my entire GPA.” 

He doesn’t comment on my teariness or the way that I almost sniffle, he just continues to softly rub my back. The gesture is starting to feel somewhat maternal, but it’s nice. “He made you take the test?” 

“Mr. Williams’ is a total asshole.” 

Billy’s mouth turns upwards, “He sounds like it.” I smile, leaning into his touch. “You should go back to the doctor.” He frowns when I move away from him. “Your head hurts, you’re moody--” 

“Am not.” 

“Right, because that stand off with Stu earlier was like you.” 

Right--that weird moment in the hallway. Great, Stu’s probably mad at me, and there’s no way that me going out of my way to not see him before math is something he’s going to take lightly. “He’s probably so mad at me.” 

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Billy says, “He can’t stay mad at you.” 

I give him a look. “He’s petty.” 

Billy smiles after a second. “He’ll be petty about it, but he won’t actually be mad.” Before I can respond, Billy stands, “Come on, you need to go to a doctor.” 

After a second, I stand, taking his hand. “Fine.” 

----

Taglist: @cole22ann @i-amnotokaywiththis 

#scream #scream x reader #scream 1996 #scream imagine #ghostface #ghostface x reader #poly!ghostface #poly!ghostface x reader #stu macher #stu macher x reader #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #x reader #final girl fic #slasher fic #slasher x reader

[delcakoo]

son of hades!riki watching femreader!daughter of apollo heal/comfort and later on cutely playing with little toddler campers to cheer them up and falls more in love w her bc of how good she is w kids

(its percy jackson themed, i hope im making sense😭 basically the reader has healing powers)

OH HELL YEAH PERCY JACKSON AA i dont even know anything ab the actual series, but i have read fics with its concept and ITS SUCH A COOL IDEA 🫶🫶 i had to do a bit research and it says hades kids can shadow travel and have earth powers..? hope thats correct jshdjd this was so fun to write, ty for the req anon <3 !! SOFT HOUR REQS ARE CLOSED !!

11:14AM — it was the hades’ kids turn to babysit the younger campers.

riki found kids a bit annoying, much too troubling and loud for his taste. but he couldn’t deny that the little boy he was assigned to supervise for the day was more than adorable.

his name was mingyu, a hermes kid with black curly hair filled and big brown boba eyes, his cheeky smile growing whenever riki swung their intertwined hands back and forth.

the little boy stopped suddenly along the camps pathway, looking up at riki with a big grin, “hyung! watch this!”

like most young hermes kids, mingyu was eager to show off his oustanding stealth and speed, zooming in circles at a breakneck speed. he was almost a blur to riki, moving so fast to the point that the older male’s eyes could barely keep up with his figure.

he chuckles, “woah, you’re even faster than hyung!” feeling playful, riki decides to put his own powers to use; manipulating a couple earthy platforms into the air, replicating a mini parkour park for the boy. “bet you cant get up there,” he taunts.

perhaps he shouldn’t have done that.

feeling challenged, mingyu rushes up to the rocks, pouncing higher with each one, the little boy cheers, laughing proudly with each jump. “more, hyung! make more!”

the hades boy gulps, hands moving in panic as he tries to keep up with the child who’s now jumping to each platform right as they’ve been formed. riki didn’t use his geokinesis often; evident in how slow it took him to develop each new rock. “h-hey kid, slow down! i can’t—“

it was too late; mingyu’s already jumped into the open air, expecting riki to place a rock beneath him, only to find nothing as he falls all the way down to the ground. immediately, the little boy bursts into tears, staring down at his legs that were painfully scratched up and bleeding.

“shit,” riki curses, rushing over to kneel before the younger. “hey, it’s alright gyu, i’ll take you to the medical cabin right now, okay?”

the walk to the meds was one full of terrible, heart wrenching guilt; riki having to carry the poor boy bridal style with tears and blood still running down his skin. right as he was about to open the cabin door, you had already pulled it open.

riki’s heart nearly began thumping out of his chest. he’d interacted with you a couple times here and there, always noticing little, endearing details about you, like the way you sometimes hit the person next to you from you laughing too hard, or how your tongue would poke out of your cheek whenever you were frustrated. he found you charming, it was unfortunate he’d be meeting you again in such a way. “y/n—“

“riki!” you scold, quickly taking mingyu from his hold, “what the hell did you do?!”

he gulps, quickly following you as you set the hermes boy down on the closest bed. you were rushing around the room in a hurry, picking a few wipes to clean the child’s wounds. “i- we were playing around, and then he fell! it was an accident though, i promise!”

riki was only feeling more guilty about the fact that he’d nearly forgot about mingyu’s injuries; much too busy admiring you despite the glare you send his way while you wipe up the boy’s blood.

“i’ll deal with you later,” you sigh, throwing the wipe into the trash. like a switch, your expression morphs into one of gentleness as you smile down at mingyu comfortingly. “okay baby, this is going to feel a bit strange, but just focus on me, okay?”

he sniffles, closing his own eyes nervously. “mkay, noona.”

“so mingyu, what’s your favourite animal?”

“umm.. i like tigers..” while he’s distracted you take a deep breath, muttering something as you place your hands over his scrapes. “but.. but i also like lions..” riki just watches in amazement, lips parted as the injuries begin to miraculously close up. mingyu is too busy talking about lions, hands fidgeting with each other anxiously.

suddenly, you open your eyes with a big smile, “look at that, you’re all better!”

riki isn’t fully aware of what happens after that, all he knows is that he is absolutely, undoubtedly in love with you. he faintly sees mingyu spring up from the bed happily, giving you a big, grateful kiss on the cheek.

his dad wouldn’t mind him going for an apollo kid, right?

i’m sorry if things are unnacurate, again i dont know much about percy jackson <\3 this was super fun anyway sjnddjn i hope i did ur idea justice anonnieee >:)

#delcakoo #delcakoo requests #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen fics #enhypen fluff #enhypen fic #niki x reader #niki fic #nishimura riki x reader #nishimura riki fuff #nishimura riki fluff #niki fluff #niki #niki imagines #riki drabbles #nishimura riki fic #nishimura riki imagines #engene #enha #niki fics #enhypen x reader #enhypen drabble #enhypen scenarios #enhypen timestamps #enhypen soft hours #enhypen reactions #enhypen imagine #nishimura riki #niki drabbles

[queenie-official]

Chapter Sixteen: ‘Great big Race’ Bridgerton Au!Anakin

previous chapter: 15

The royal heart series masterlist

a/n: who’s ready for a race 🏇🏇 honestly took me forever to figure out how i wanted it to go😭 otherwise all these chapters would of been out like yesterday but i couldn’t write 🥲 anyways enjoy huns Xx<3💋💋

you were honestly glad you’d told Anakin to stay with his family for the day because it took you way longer to finish going over everything then you initially thought. you didn’t even get to eat dinner with everyone. instead eating in your study as you looked over paper after paper. who knew a race would take this much work to put together.

at the very least you’d finally finished for the day, slouching back in your chair to take a much needed moment to yourself. letting your mind run blank before your anxiety took over.

tomorrow was the big day, the entirety of Alderaan would have their eyes on you and Anakin. only it wasn’t just Alderaan, with the unity of the two kingdoms for the events youd now have the additional eyes of Tatooine on you.

thousands of people watching your every move. thankfully the race would keep them occupied but the ball- maybe it wasn’t your best decision in all honestly. not only would you have to do a welcome speech but everyone will be expecting you to address what happened however brief it may be. you can only hope you don’t tear up as it would probably undo all the progress of showing the Ton all was well you’d put in.

if you can get through without crying, then perform the first waltz with Anakin you could call the entire day a success. silently you prayed all the work you were doing for this would pay off and there would be no slip ups.

to say you slept good that night would be a lie, in all honesty you found the bed felt rather empty without Anakin in it alongside you. the previous night was only the second time he’d shared a bed with you and somehow you’d already grown used to his company. you couldn’t blame him for sleeping in his own room though, not when you were up so late and he’d probably been too occupied with his family to notice.

just when you finally thought you’d be able to rejoin everyone for the day you found yourself isolated once more. Three carriages had been waiting in front of the castle, you’d almost forgotten about that stupid safety protocol rule. but now here you are riding alone. Anakin was in the second carriage behind you, Ahsoka and Obi-wan with him. his parents were riding in the third together, lucky them.

the carriage ride there felt everlasting, bored out of your mind with no one to talk too. it felt like the universe was playing a cruel joke on you, mocking the fact you weren’t truly a part of their family by physically reminding you of the space between you and them. at least when you arrived at the racing grounds you’d be with everyone, then you could pretend like that wasn’t the case.

despite all of the negative thoughts and feelings that plagued your mind there was an overwhelming excitement that tingled throughout your body. Anakin had gone on and on about the races throughout the whole preparation period. he’d explained each rule, and even had his old race horse from Tatooine brought over so he could use it in the race. R2-D2 was the horse's name, you found it an odd one but didn’t want to question him. R2 was a beautiful horse, and looked strong. no wonder Anakin always won.

there was three rounds overall, the fun part was even if you won the first round there was no guarantee you’d participate in the final round. the winner of the first round gets put into the second round alongside a whole new set of people and if they lose that’s it. of course it was also optional if they wanted to participate a second time or not to begin with.

Anakin had said he’d participate in the first round before and won all three a few times, which didn’t surprise you with how passionate he was about the hobby. you both agreed that since he was the king however, he shouldn’t participate till the last round in order to give people of the Ton a chance to win.

looking out the carriage window as the sounds of a crowd began to fill the air, the excitement bubbling even more as you saw the racing grounds come into view. you knew there would be a lot of the Ton here but to see just how many had shown, both warmed you and scared you. you could hear the booming voice of someone announcing your arrival shortly followed by cheers of the Ton.

Braeden had opened your carriage helping you out and onto the ground, you’d actually grown quite fond of him. it was still odd to have someone constantly five paces behind you but you couldn’t deny the convenience, plus after what happened with Valorum it brought you a feeling of safety.

“y/n” Anakin’s voice drew your attention away from your valet, turning to look at him instead. Ahsoka was at his side but seemed to linger behind and stay with Obi-Wan when she’d noticed he was walking over to you, it was a little disheartening but you did your best to push the feeling away.

“are you ready for this?” he asked you, a big goofy smile on his face from how happy he was as he now stood in front of you. you couldn’t help but mirror his expression, he has such a perfect smile. one that always seemed to brighten your own mood, he held out his arm for you to link with yours so you two could walk together.

you didn’t hesitate to link your arm with him, now walking side by side as he gushed about the race and who he thought would win each round. of course confidently bragging about how no one would beat him come the third round. god did you love him, you could listen to him talk for hours about any subject you were sure.

as you guys walked through the back of the stands to go to the special stall designated for the royal family you couldn’t shake that feeling again. like someone was watching you, obviously your people were but this was different.

looking briefly behind you to see if you could spot the source, and sure enough a familiar pair of brown eyes were locked onto you.

you turn back to Anakin refocusing on him but this time you weren’t really listening to what he was saying, your mind was too busy wondering if Ahsoka really disliked you so much. anytime you were in the same place her eyes were on you, tracking your every movement. honestly you felt more judgment from her then you have most people in your life.

the sound of a gun going off rung in the air to signify the first round of the race had begun, silencing the crowd but only for a moment before everyone began shouting and cheering for the respective player they were rooting for. the track was huge, some points of action would be covered from trees but only briefly.

if you thought the crowd was loud you couldn’t believe how loud Anakin was, somehow his voice managed to boom overtop of everyone’s.

well him and Ashoka’s, though even her shouts where significantly quieter than his. it was almost more amusing then the race, Obi-Wan seemed to be more of a silent enjoyed along with Qui-Gon. both men standing silently and only cheering when the contestant they where routing for managed to surpass the other players. Shmi was silent in general as she watched, that didn’t shock you considering how Anakin said she never really was a fan of the races to begin with.

from what you remembered Anakin also said that both Qui-Gon and Shmi disproved of him participating in the races so you could only imagine what their reactions would be like when he’d leave to go join in the third round.

you flinch back slightly as everyone’s voices raise, the first round coming to an end and the first winner of the day emerging. it was nice to see both kingdoms getting along so well for this but boy did you not take into account just how loud the whole event was going to be.

your ears would be ringing for the rest of the night that’s for sure. shockingly Anakin seemed to have noticed, you truly thought his attention was solely on the race but he always seemed to find a way to surprise you. pulling you to stand in front of him and gently cupping your ears to block out the noise of the crowd as the next round was being set up. it was still loud but definitely more manageable than before, everything muffled just enough for the ringing to stop. it truly was the little things that had you falling helplessly in love with him.

the next round began just the same, another gun shot to the air and off all the players were. the difference this time was Anakin didn’t cheer, looking up to see his face he was definitely watching it. a big smile still plastered on, occasionally puffing his cheeks out when he wanted to cheer. he was holding back for you.

Ahsoka’s cheers still went on, now cheering for both herself and her brother since they were routing for the same player.

you lean back into Anakin, resting your back against his chest and he moves forward slightly. resting his chin on the top of your head, his hands still pressing firm but gentle on your ears.

there it was again, the feeling of eyes on you. you didn’t bother to check this time, already knowing who it most likely belonged too. at this point the only thing you wanted to know was why.

to say that Anakin’s family was shocked when he left the stands, walking down to go join the third round would be untrue. if anything you were more shocked by their lack of reaction, you didn’t show it though.

he hadn’t told them you knew that for sure, he’d said it himself he wanted it to be a secret. but you suppose they were probably used to this from him.

the crowd was probably the loudest they’d been all day when Anakin joined the lineup on his horse. the previous winner from the second round wasn’t competing this time, probably having seen Anakin’s name on the list and decided to take the win he had not wanting the possibility of losing to the king.

you wanted to cover your own ears to block from the noise as Anakin had been doing before but decided you’d much rather cheer for him and clap. it would only be for a small amount of time after all, Anakin had done a test run of the course when first trying to find where the race would take place.

he’d taken three minutes to complete it and that was without R2, you had a feeling he’d run through this one much faster with his favorite horse.

the cheers were so loud as the gun went off, to your surprise the entire crowd was pretty much rooting for everyone but Anakin. it was all good fun you could tell, still you couldn’t help but laugh.

you, Ahsoka and Obi-Wan being the only people to cheer for him. his mom and dad watching quietly, though to be fair it was already clear who was going to win. Anakin was significantly ahead of the other contestants, his brows were furrowed in focus. occasionally glancing behind to check if anyone was catching up. there was one person who’d somehow managed to get close but just as quickly he managed to go even faster, R2 getting a second wind as he galloped along.

Just like that he’d won. a bright smile on his face as he held up both arms in a cheer of his own as everyone else cheered, screamed actually.

you were elated. this was definitely the most fun you had in a while, you almost wished it could go on longer or happen more often. of course once a year was still better than nothing. the day wasn’t over yet though.

you now had a ball to get changed for.

Part 17

Tag List: @luvvfromme @gatekeepingirlboss @bimbo-baggins86 @iluvanakinskywalker @bby-imasociopath @curlycarley @burnthecheshirewitch @misscaller06 @sweetcheesecakesblog

alright and that’s three 🤭🤭 next chapter is going to be the ball 😋 it’s going to be out soon but not as fast as the previous three chapters where posted- but don’t worry cuz i promise it will be out today lol💃 anyway hope you all enjoy the cute moments happening between reader and Ani🥰 love you all 💋💋

#hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #star wars anakin #anakin imagine #rots anakin #atoc anakin #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker x reader fluff #anakin x reader fluff #anakin x you #bridgerton au!anakin x reader #bridgerton au!anakin #bridgerton au #bridgerton #queenie’s thoughts xx<3 #Spotify

[midnightkolrath]

Time for another chapter of 'Leo analyzing DMC stuff' with something that woke me up at 4 AM to think about, as a sudden ponder point

So, the series has a running joke of impalement, namely with Dante being impaled by some sort of sword. Mostly his own sword, though. This little running gag comes full circle in DMC5, when Dante laments on why he was given Rebellion and decides to impale himself with the handle that then proceeds to combine with the Sparda sword to unlock his Sin Devil Trigger form.

But thinking about this more, I realized that this sort of thing has been common, not just with Dante himself.

Though, I'm gonna start talking about his thing with DMC3 here.

With the DMC5 screenshot I've included with Dante's dialogue, plus thinking back about that very moment in DMC3, we know Dante unlocked his devil trigger thanks to Vergil through impalement of his own sword. This is THE main moment we see of a form like devil trigger be unlocked this way.

But, funny enough, if we fast forward into DMC4...we get yet another moment where we have our protag be impaled and awoken to atleast a FORM of their devil trigger...with Nero.

As a side tidbit, the details of this awakening are elaborated in the DMC4 novel, Deadly Fortune, where Nero recalls a dream he had after gaining his demonic arm, featuring a familiar voice (that we know is Vergil) that he remembers again as he went temporarily unconscious. (Though in the novel its implied he temporarily died before reviving...it states his 'heartbeat stopped', though the way its pictured in the game...who completely knows).

This moment of remembrance is what triggers not only the first (incomplete) form of Nero's devil trigger, but the reconstruction of the Yamato. This is the second time the domino effect of being stabbed (or perhaps simply overwhelmed in Nero's case...though Agnus did rub the salt in similarly to Vergil against Dante...not with his own sword but with a sword-like object...maybe its a parallel) resulted in the awakening of a devil trigger, or a newfound power.

Now, if we do the fun thing and roll both forward and back, we'll see that Dante and Nero weren't the only ones that experienced a power awakening this way. Thanks to Visions of V, we get a short flashback of Vergil's childhood. This included the very moment there was the demon attack that killed Eva and separated the twins, sending them on their own paths.

A VERY significant moment we (tragically) get to see is a young Vergil getting attacked by these demons, while he's alone. Its horrifying, but also shares a similar theme though much more brutally.

In fact, its similar to Nero's case, which involves impalement like Dante but grows into being overwhelmed to the point of helplessness. ALSO funny enough, its this bit of helplessness, of feeling that power is NEEDED to get themselves out of the situation they're in to survive for one way or another...that Yamato comes right to their side. When its needed most.

This is, for Vergil, an awakening to what would become his path to gain power at any cost, to never have to feel this helplessness again while also being haunted about the lack of strength he had to protect his mother.

Its interesting that this moment mirrors Nero's claim to yamato in DMC4, with even the desire and call for more power led to Yamato returning to its restored form and going to Nero's side. Like father, like son.

My original point, though, was how a funny ironic running joke of being impaled one way or another in this series apparently leads to awakening of power or resolve for the Sparda clan. This series has many running themes if you look for them, but this is one I've noticed lately. I wonder if Sparda himself went through something like this in his time (heh).

#devil may cry #dmc #i'm sorry I've been tossing out DMC lore thoughts recently- #leo's DMC analysis #with the lack of content save for like the netflix anime coming up #I've grown alot of brainworms #i'm also just re-reading the novels so alot's prob gonna worm out soon aaaaaa

[magnet-lattice]

(Lifesteal s5 spoilers for my understanding of The Players' plans, from catching incomplete sections of streams and osmosis. I do not think this is spoilers for any of them but I am not keeping up very well, so please correct me if I am wrong and I'll edit this. It's a little bit rambly, sorry.)

So, aside from the unrequited pitchflirting, my understanding of the Players' main finale plans are that they want to remove all of the buildings and restore the server or at least the main areas to looking the way they did at the start of the server, before anyone built anything. And this has some justification about like being a fresh start to the world, aside from the fact that it's a cool dramatic thing to do, but also!

It's really neat how the thing it does is specifically making the server look as though nobody ever played on it. Because the Players' whole thing, their primary conflict with primarily Jumper and Minute (I don't think they have a team name?) is that they're the only people willing to play heel, to do cool evil dramatic shit that other people can make content by fighting against, and almost everyone else (no offense intended to Squiddo or Wemmbu but they haven't been on much lately?) is either neutral, inactive, or insistently playing face?

And in the arguments between the players and Jumper and Minute, it has come up that the opposing side wants to end the server without conflict, and the Players' argument in favor of what they're doing is that it's interesting content which creates a reason for the other players to log on and participate. (This has consistently been their motivation since early in the Abyss arc)

And I think that in addition to the other justification, restoring the world to look untouched is a pretty powerful statement of "This is what you're advocating for the world to be: one where nobody ever logs on and does anything or fights or builds things that matter."

(In the interest of fairness, I know Minute was talking about like, getting people onto the server by having temporary mods during the sessions, and Branzy does have his carnival, and I do enjoy this content, but... at least to me, the fundamental strength of Lifesteal content qua Lifesteal (Minecraft's deadliest SMP), as a reason to be watching this rather than something else-- like a modded or survival series that happens to be made by the same people-- is the social effects of a bunch of people who are mostly tryhards in a competitive environment that encourages conflict and teaming and subterfuge and paranoia and big dramatic clickbaitable gestures?)

(I do in fact think it's fun and interesting when there are some people on Lifesteal who care about morality and want to do the nice thing! This is a fun source of conflict! I just... think it's more fun when that's not the majority of people who are logging on and doing anything, because then there's the risk of them uncomplicatedly winning, or successfully preventing or mitigating or discouraging the majority of the dramatic evil/annoying stuff, and then nothing happening? Lifesteal content is primarily about conflict. It's maybe a little more fun when the people involved have in-universe justifications that are not just "it's for content", painting the fourth wall with a thin veneer of "it's because it's cool and asserts our power" or some galaxybrained self-serving philosophical/metaphorical justification explaining why this supervillain stuff is the real moral thing to do, or whatever? But it's still fun as long as people are like, logging in and doing stuff and fighting or arguing with each other, and maybe having some big feelings? and at least one person is live or making videos so we can see what's happening)

#Lifesteal SMP

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

I love no words! Love the twist! Would you mind writing a follow up where the reader meets the daggers, and Jake has to explain how he has a soulmate without having a soulmate tattoo? Takes rooster and fanboy little extra time to understand.

Thank you so much anon!!! No Words is absolutely one of my favorite things I have ever written and it brings me such joy anytime someone new discovers it! 🥰💞

I'm not sure if you just read the fic or the Extended Version but I did go into a bit of what happens afterwards with Jake and Reader in a series of reblogs.

I'm sort of on a writing hiatus at the moment, but I did come up with some HCs for your request because I do really like it and it inspired me. I hope you like them:

Jake still can't fully believe he has found his soulmate after so many years without hope so it takes him some time before he's ready to introduce you to the Daggers (you understand and allow him to take as much time as he needs). However, they all notice something has changed and that Jake will disappear more and more often, to the point he is almost never at The Hard Deck anymore. But whatever is going on, he seems happy so they don't push it.

When Jake finally feels ready to introduce you, he makes a big deal about it. Penny was the only one at the bar the night you two met who knew Jake, so she's been in on the secret the whole time and helps him plan a special beach barbeque for the big announcement.

Jake told you to get there a little later so he could share the news with everyone first. When he tells everyone he finally found his soulmate, he is met with mixed reactions: Payback, Fanboy, and Phoenix seem completely supportive and happy for him, Coyote congratulates him but Jake can tell he is a little unsure about things (Coyote has known Jake the longest and knows how much this not having a soulmate thing has hurt Jake in the past so he's happy but also doesn't want to see his friend get crushed if he is wrong), but Rooster and Bob just share an uneasy look and hang back. When Jake confronts them, Bob tries to brush it off and says he's happy for him, but Rooster doesn't pull any punches. He knows that Jake has been getting more depressed and hopeless about his lack of soulmate tattoo lately and he thinks Jake is just fooling himself because he wants it so badly. Rooster tells Jake he needs to face the fact that he doesn't have a tattoo because he doesn't have a soulmate and this charade is just going to destroy him once he comes to his senses.

Before Jake can respond, you arrive and immediately link arms with Jake as you plant a big kiss on his mouth. You point to Bob and Rooster questioningly, and Jake has the biggest shit-eating grin as he drapes his arm over your shoulder and introduces them. He then tells them your name, and you pull out a marker and scribble something onto Jake's arm. When you hold it out to show them--flashing them your own soulmate tattoo in the process (a familiar phrase they've heard Jake use before) --and they read "I'm Jake's soulmate". You sign something to Jake and as he struggles to figure it out (but gets there eventually due to the online classes he's been taking), all the pieces click and Rooster and Bob sheepishly shake your hand. Rooster then pulls Jake aside and apologizes for what he said, but Jake just shrugs it off because he knows Rooster was just trying to have his back. Rooster is amazed by that reaction, but as Jake turns back to you, Rooster can see how Jake has already become a better man in the short time he has known you.

The rest of the barbeque is a lot of fun and you get along great with everyone (Phoenix even reveals to you that she can sign but you both decide to keep that from Jake for now which Phoenix will use against him later). Jake rarely leaves your side and when he does, he can't take his eyes off of you. All the Daggers recognize that indescribable pull between two people and any last lingering doubts that the two of you aren't soulmates fade away.

#thanks! #anon ask #no words #soulmate au #jake hangman seresin #hangman #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #f!reader #disabled!reader #mute!reader #fluff