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dazednmatthews · 12 hours

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casual~ c. sturniolo x reader

four times y/n was “okay” with “just casual” with chris, one time she told truth + one time he realized what he’d lost.

“my friends call me a loser

cause i’m still hanging around

i’ve heard so many rumors

that i’m just the girl that you bang on your couch”

“i just will never understand you guys,” one of y/n’s friends say, popping a chip in her mouth. “like, why are you sitting around waiting for chris?”

“because she’s obsessed with him, stupid.” another one interjects. they’re all sitting around y/n’s apartment, music playing from the t.v, snacks and drinks littering the table in front of them.

the four girls were waiting for the guys to finish setting up beer pong in the kitchen, and somehow it had turned into conversation about y/n’s less than conventional relationship with chris. go figure.

“i’m not obsessed with him,” she rolls her eyes. “and i’m not waiting for shit. we’re just casual, despite whatever you guys want to think.”

“right,” the third says, dragging out the ‘i’. she gives her a pointed look. “cause spending every waking moment together, sleeping at his house three times a week and looking at each other how you do screams casual.”

y/n laughs then, shaking her head. “it’s not that serious. can’t two people just enjoy each others times- and beds- without a relationship?”

“sure,” her best friend agrees. “two people can. you and chris though? i don’t buy it.”

“alright, fuck you guys.” y/n stands up from her place on the couch, throwing a pillow at one of her friends with a smile. “i’m going to check on what’s taking them so long.”

the walk to the kitchen is interesting, because honestly, it’s the first time y/n has really thought about her… whatever this thing with chris was from an outside perspective. it’d been a constantly changing few months, and she’d never stopped to think about how she felt in all of it.

sure, sometimes chris says stuff to her that has meaning underneath. sure, sometimes she calls him after a bad day because he always knows what to say. and sure, maybe the sex had gone from fun and wild to slightly intimate with eye contact that sometimes knocked the wind out of her. but that didn’t mean it had to mean anything different than what they wanted.

when she gets to the wall separating the hallway and the kitchen, she hears her name and freezes. “chris, bro, what the fuck is going on with you and y/n? i swear you guys are attached at the fucking hip.”

“basically his fucking girlfriend at this point,” matt, his brother, says and she can practically hear him rolling his eyes.

the girl in question finds herself waiting with bated breath for chris to answer. “fuck off, matt,” she imagines he flips him off. “she’s not my fucking girlfriend.”

it takes her by surprise the way it cracks her just a tiny bit. she knew he’d say it, knew that there was no revelation that would leave his lips. that was expected. what wasn’t expected, was how it made her feel. “we’re just fucking around. she’s a cool girl, but that’s about it.”

y/n thinks that bothers her even more than the previous answer. the words wedge their way into her stomach, wiggling around and filling her with a new, uncomfortable feeling. she thinks it may be disappointment, but she refuses to acknowledge it. chris finds her in the hallway before she can anyway.

“hey, we just finished setting up,” he sends her the most beautiful smile, one that her brain suddenly tells her he doesn’t mean. “i was just coming to find you.”

as soon as he’s in her space his hands are on her, snaking around her waist and pulling her in. he kisses her then, soft and sinfully slow. she throws the weird feelings into the fire and kisses him back just as deep.

when he pulls away, his eyebrows furrow slightly, and he gives her a concerned look. “you good?”

she’s surprised he can tell that something was bothering her. surprised he can read her face that well. it confuses her, which in turn brings those discomforting feelings right back. she looks at him, running her eyes all over him, taking him in. his bright blue eyes, the stubble framing his perfect jawline, the faded acne scar on his cheek. the moment is good, and she’s happy with them exactly as they are.

so, y/n runs her hands through his soft hair, placing a searing kiss on his lips. “i’m great. now let’s go. you’re about to get your ass kicked.”

she pulls him towards the kitchen as he laughs, stamping down the pesky voice in her head that tells her that something about this day will come back to haunt her.

“you said, “baby, no attachment.” but

we’re knee deep in the passenger seat and you’re eating me out

is it casual now?”

“fuck, chris,” y/n throws her head back, fisting her hands into chris’s scalp as his tongue works against her. the rubber band in her stomach feels like its about to snap, and she knows she can’t hold on much longer.

“so good for me, baby.” chris purrs, voice sending shocks through her core. “no one could ever know you like me. no one ever will.”

he holds her hips down as she tries to wiggle away from the feeling, her finish clawing through her. “no one.” she babbles, basically slurring from the pleasure.

“only me, ma.” his fingers are pumping unforgivingly, making her black spots appear in her vision. “say it.”

“just you, chris- jesusfuckingchrist,” her words keep sticking to each other as they basically fly from her mouth, and when he flattens his tongue on her, the rubber band explodes. “only you.”

he doesn’t stop lapping at her until she comes down from her high, and she’s a shaking mess in his front seat. he’s whispering praises to her, telling her how good she is to him, tells her how she’s never looked prettier than when she’s coming for him, and tells her he could never find anyone better than her.

when everything is said and done and chris is back in the driver’s seat, raking his hands through his hair incessantly, y/n feels an ugly feeling creeping into her gut. it’s red hot and thick, turning her cheeks warm.

she looks at chris, who’s already looking at her. “you okay? need anything?”

her heart clenches a little. because how can they be “just fucking around” when he looks at her like that?

“yeah,” she says, despite her better judgement. “just tired.”

chris nods, leaning across the middle console and plays with a stray curl. she presses her cheek into his hand, kissing it softly. the look in his eyes sends electricity through her veins.

“well, can’t have my girl unrested.” he rubs her chin between his thumb and pointer finger affectionately. “mine or yours?”

the action makes her sick with feelings. “mine.”

and it’s all she has to say before he’s pulling out of the parking lot like a man on a mission.

fuck.

“dumb love

i love being stupid

dream of us in a year

maybe we’d have an apartment

and you’d show me off to your friends at the pier”

the light filters through the curtains of the bedroom, causing y/n to blink her eyes open. she stretches slightly, only to find herself wrapped up in someone’s arms.

chris snores softly, lashes kissing his cheeks. his hair is everywhere, falling in pretty tendrils on the pillow. in her sleepy state, the girl reaches out, raking her hands through them.

he groans slightly, pushing his head into her hand. “that feels nice.”

she scrapes her nails in his scalp slightly, warmth filling her at his gruff voice. “good morning.”

he finally opens his eyes,which are a pretty dark blue, coated in sleep. “it is now.” the smile he gives her is blinding.

chris’s hold on her tightens. there’s no physical way for them to get any closer, but he’s trying anyway. his right hand is rubbing her back while his left sits on the swell of her ass, playing with the band of her underwear. the touches make her melt into him further.

they lay there for what seems like forever, although if you asked them, it would never be long enough. when they do finally leave the warmth of their bed, y/n is watching from the doorframe as chris brushes his teeth.

“how come you aren’t ready?” he asks through white foam, spraying it forward. he giggles at that, shrugging.

she raises an eyebrow. “ready for what?”

chris rinses his mouth, patting his face dry. “i told you that my friends from back home are here. we’re going out with them.”

“no, you said you were going out with them,” there’s confusion etched into his face as you continue. “i didn’t think that meant i was coming.”

“why the hell not?”

the surprise she feels is jarring. “you want me to meet your friends from home?”

chris gives her a look like she just shot him. he walks up to her, ducking his head down and connecting their eyes. “first of all, i want you with me literally everywhere i go.” he kisses her chastely. “second, ‘course i do. i want everyone to know you’re mine.”

it feels like the world opens up then. there’s a faint hum going through her body, like chris had single handedly brought her back to life.

the smile that paints her face is so radiant, you’d think the sun had risen right here in this room. “okay. i’ll get ready now.”

before she leaves the room, chris smacks her ass, making them both laugh. she feels the hardwood beneath her feet, feels the kisses from this morning on her skin and feels the peace all around her-

y/n’s woken up by the sound of her phone going off. she’s disoriented, wiping away the sleep with stiff hands. when she comes to fully, she’s in her bedroom, alone, with a longing that threatens to knock her right back out.

that was new. dreaming of chris like that. the way every single touch, every single kiss and every single feeling was so painfully real. it was getting self destructive now, the way that she was coming to realize her feelings, but ignoring them every time.

she picks up her phone to look at the time, 1:47 AM, and the texts that cover her screen.

chris <3

1:04 am

wyd

chris <3

1:17 am

come over

chris <3

1:32 am

need you here

there’s something different in the way she feels while reading them. there’s no excitement, no thrill or pleasure that runs up her spine. there’s nothing but a hollow pit in her stomach, making her nauseous.

her mind reminds her ruthlessly of her dream; the way he held her so tight. the way he called her his, and the way it felt to be wanted by him. she knew that this was no longer casual, the way she wanted to be next to him all the time. they way she found herself right there whenever he asked. the way her heart sped up whenever he looked at her. it felt like she was in fucking quicksand, with every time she tried to ignore and drown out her constantly growing feelings for chris, the deeper she sank.

she wants to say no. she wants to turn around and go right back to sleep. to finally admit that this is hurting her way worse than she’s made herself believe. but she’d be kidding herself to believe that there was ever a way for her to deny anything chris wanted. he might not be hers, but she damn sure was his.

was asleep. give me 15 n i’m on my way.

she tries to convince herself she’s fine the entire drive over there.

“two weeks and your mom invites me to her house in long beach

is it casual now?

…and i try to be the chill girl

that holds her tongue and gives you space

i try to be the chill girl

but honestly, i’m not.”

“i’m sorry?”

there’s a deafening silence in y/n’s head when the the words come out of chris’ moms mouth. like the loud buzz and click when turning off a static screen television.

she wasn’t even sure how she’d gotten into this situation. when chris brought it up to her, she was gobsmacked the exact same as now, mouth floundering helplessly.

“my parents are coming next week.” chris says from his place in front of the open fridge. he was rooting around for the last of the soda you kept in there specifically for him.

“i’m glad. i know you said you were missing them recently.” y/n is cooking dinner for the two of them, pasta, cause chris was craving it. she tries not to think of the implications of the scene.

“yeah, i was.”

he’s behind her now, looking over her shoulder at what she’s doing. “can you come over one night? i want you to meet them.”

y/n nearly chucks the pot off the stove with how quick she moves. “you want me to what?”

“holy shit.” chris backs up as she faces him. “you scared the fuck out of me.” he laughs, but she doesn’t return it. she’s just staring at him with wide eyes. something akin to hope blooms in her chest.

“why do you want me to meet your parents?”

chris looks at her like she just asked him to streak. his eyebrows are knitted together, and his eyes are searching hers. “why wouldn’t i?” he shrugs.

she thinks he can’t possibly know what he’s asking. he’s speaking about it so casually that she thinks she might explode. might crumble to the floor beneath his feet. as always.

“i dunno,” she says carefully. trying to find any indication in his face that they were more than she thought from his perspective. “i didn’t know that we were there yet is all.”

chris’ face flashes in recognition then. “ohhhh. no, no,” he laughs like she just told the most hilarious joke in the fucking world. “not like… not like that.”

the words actually make her start to lose consciousness a little. “like that?”

“yeah. not like as a girlfriend or anything.” he has no idea that he’s killing her slowly. “i meant because you’re one of my closest friends. like i know we’re doing this lowkey thing or whatever, but we’re still friends right?”

it would’ve hurt less if he shot her at point blank range.

she nods then, forcing herself to smile. the hope has been smothered just as quick as it started to grow. “yeah, of course. i’d love to.”

he kisses her sweetly before asking if she needs any help cooking for the sixth time today. she says no, and he tells her he’d be in her living room watching TV until she’s done.

it’s only when he left the room did she let herself fall apart.

she feels eerily similar to that moment right now. confused and slightly afraid of saying the wrong thing.

“i said, we’re going on vacation soon and we would love it if you came!” his mom repeats, her smile full and unwavering. “chris never shuts up about you, and you’ve been an absolutely light to be around tonight. we’d love to have you.”

“mom—“, chris groans from next to her in the couch, cheeks turning pink. matt and nick are laughing at him. “quit it. you’re scaring her.”

he didn’t protest. he didn’t shut it down. what the fuck does that mean?

“i wouldn’t want to impose—“ y/n starts, stuttering slightly. her palms are sweating and she feels nervousness pooling in her stomach.

“as if,” nick says. “it would be even better with you there.” matt silently agrees, nodding his head.

she has no idea what to do and chris is looking at her with the most indescribable look she’s ever seen in her god damn life. so she relents. “i’d love to. let me just make sure i’m free.”

his mom’s smile only grows, mirroring chris completely. she turns to nick to talk about something after it’s decided, and y/n’s head is left reeling. chris leans into her ear.

“you don’t have to go, you know.” he says. slowly, she turns her head to him. their faces are close, and she searches his eyes for anything to make her feel better.

“do you want me to?”

his answer is immediate. “of course.”

she knows the next question is heavy, for her at least, so she plasters a small smirk on her lips, raising her eyebrows. “catching feelings, christopher?”

he chuckles, tightening his arm around her shoulders. she envies his ability to go with the flow. to take things as they are. she can’t.

“you wish.”

it shatters her then, but she nuzzles further down into his side anyway. she laughs at the jokes the boys make, the stories his parents tell and the embarrassed blush on chris’s’ neck.

she asks questions when she should, nods and smiles at him when he looks at her. she does it all. for the rest of the night, she acts just like she should, plays her role as the nonchalant, down for whatever friends-with-benefits/situationship/casual relationship girl.

in reality though, she can tell it’s time. can tell by the way her heart constricts when he laughs. by the way she never wants to be away from him. by the way the thought of him wanting her to be so involved in his life is something she craves so bad. she loves him, and its hurting her.

it’s no longer casual, and it’s time to accept it.

“i hate that i let this drag on so long, now i hate myself

hate that i let this drag on so long, you can go to hell.”

“chris?” y/n walks out the bathroom in one of his shirts and her underwear, towel drying her hair. the boy in question looks up from his phone. “have you seen my red bra with the lace trim?”

he raises his eyebrow. “i thought you had on a black one tonight?”

she rolls her eyes, throwing the towel into the laundry basket. “yes, christopher, i did. but you know the red one’s my favorite and i haven’t seen it in a while.”

he shrugs, pointing at his dresser. “oh yeah. you left it here when you were over here, one time. it’s in the dresser.”

for some reason, the words hit her like a freight train. she pauses, completely unknown to chris who’s still very much into his phone. when she gets to the dresser, she opens it, and sure enough, there it is.

something about it makes hysteria build in her body. she feels like screaming, feels like sinking into the ground to never be seen again. everything inside her that had been simmering inside her the last five months had finally bubbled over. she couldn’t take it anymore.

“what i am to you, chris?”

she didn’t mean for it to come out, but she’s glad it did. glad that she was finally done denying herself the truth that she rightfully deserved.

his head snaps to hers instantly, eyes wide. “what?”

“you heard me,” y/n walks to her bag that’s sitting on his desk chair. she shoves her legs through her shorts, standing straight and looking chris dead in the eye. “what the fuck are we doing here?”

for a moment, there’s nothing. she can tell the cogs in his head are moving a hundred miles an hour by the way his eyes are scanning her face. “we’re what we’ve always been. we’re hanging out. we’re friends.”

“friends,” she mutters bitterly. “right.”

chris sits up finally, turning his entire body towards her. his phone is tossed and forgotten. “where the hell is this coming from?”

“you just had me meet your fucking parents.” she says slowly, enunciating every word. “they fucking invited on vacation with your family,” the room is spinning for her. running past her in a flurry of color and heartbreak, “you keep my favorite fucking bra in your dresser, and you expect me to be okay with “we’re friends?””

chris can tell that something is wrong. sure anyone with functioning social awareness could tell, but he knows something is really, really wrong.

he stands, rounding the bed, coming face to face with her. he reaches out to touch her, and it’s the first time in the history of their entanglement that she steps away. the hurt on his face is palpable. but for once, y/n doesn’t care about how chris feels. or what chris wants.

“come here.” he says.

“no,” she shakes her head. she looks at him then, really looks. slides her eyes over the fluffiness of his drying hair, straight out the shower. the way his eyes sink in just a bit, contrasting with the bright blue they usually possess. the way his nose slopes and perfectly frames his face. the way his mouth, which has been so good to her, naturally leans upward and to the right, always faintly smirking. she takes in everything about him, snapping a photo in her mind so she can remember it after this moment.

y/n takes a deep breath. one she’s needed for a while. “i’m done with this.”

“what are you talking about?” she tries to convince herself it isn’t panic she hears. “stop being ridiculous and talk to me.”

“i am talking, chris. you’re just choosing not to listen.”

she walks to her bag, grabbing the things that she can see are hers. she spots her tank top on the ground, snatching it up and turning her back to chris quickly, stripping off her- his shirt. she thrusts it into his chest.

“i can’t pretend to be okay with this anymore. i tried, i really did. but it hurts. and i refuse to keep ignoring what i need to be what you do.”

the words smack chris right in the center of his forehead, the way it seems. that look, the one she can never fucking figure out, is right back on his face. it’s not her problem anymore.

he can’t think of anything to say. he’s terrified, but he doesn’t know how to fix this. so what comes out is, “you said you were okay with this. that this is what you wanted.”

y/n’s movements cease and she stares at him. they may be right in front of each other, yet there’s nothing between them but space.

“i was,” she admits. “but now i’m not. so i need you to look me in face right now and tell me what you want. cause i can’t do casual anymore, chris.”

when he doesn’t speak, her words fill the space. “i can’t wake up in your bed five nights of the week with you wrapped around me and call it casual. can’t hear you call me ‘your girl’ and pretend that when we fuck it’s casual. you can’t continuously treat me like your world and then back out when i expect it from you.”

she wishes he would say something, anything. instead, he stands in front of her, desperation haunting his features. she wants to give in, to tell him it’s okay. but she can’t. she won’t.

“i can’t give you a relationship, if that’s what you’re saying.” he runs his hair through his hair. he looks about as stressed as she feels. “i like you, but i’m not ready for that.”

y/n scoffs. it feels like a severed connection. like he just cut the tether between them with a hacksaw. “you can, but you won’t.” she smiles sadly, “and that’s okay. i don’t want you to do something that makes you unhappy.”

she walks to him then, gently placing her hand on his cheek. despite the cavity that’s being carved in place of her heart, she loves him. “i hope, on that at least, you feel the same.”

there’s really nothing else she needs to say, and she doesn’t really think there’s much else she can stomach to hear. so she removes herself from his space, and begins to try to remove him from hers.

he doesn’t try to stop her as she leaves. she doesn’t expect him to. she thinks that tells her everything.

y/n groans as she pulls into her unofficial, official parking spot in front of her apartment complex after work. her entire body aches, and she can’t wait to collapse in her bed.

her phone pings loudly, making her jump. she has that momentary adrenaline rush that she always does when she hears it, even after nearly a month. she wouldn’t say she was holding on to hope that he would text her, but the thought still lives in the back of her head.

it dies as quickly as it always does when she checks, though. her mom had sent her a link to some new recipe she wanted to try. she doesn’t even have the energy to heart the message.

she grabs her bag, trudging up the insane amount of stairs, grumbling about how she can’t wait for her lease to be up. it’s only when she turns the corner to the hallway leading to her apartment that she stops dead in her fucking tracks, body going numb.

there, in all his unfortunately sexy glory, is chris. he’s sitting on the ground outside her door, arms hanging off his knees. through the darkness, y/n can see her favorite jacket, a dark blue and white flannel type, and black, loose jeans hanging off his slouched frame.

she has no idea how long she stands there, unmoving and not uttering a word, but eventually, chris looks up.

he basically jumps up, straightening his clothes. “hi.”

she pushes her feet to move, but they don’t. “hi?”

chris scratches the back of his neck nervously. “sorry to just show up like this- fuck this is probably weird, right?- i just-“ he sucks in a breath. “i wanted to talk to you.”

“oh.” she says dumbly, eyes still wide. “yeah. okay.”

neither of them know what to say, or what to do. they’re just standing ten feet apart, staring like they’ve both seen a ghost. it’s only when y/n’s neighbor comes out of their apartment and she has to get out of the way does she move.

her feet carry her in autopilot, mind blank as she walks to her door. she’s so acutely aware of chris behind her as she opens it. it’s a funny thing, falling in love with someone. your body never forgets how they made you feel. she feels like chris must have a magnet underneath his clothes, the way she’s being pulled towards him.

once they’re inside and the lights are on, she sets her stuff down on the dining room table. she takes in a deep breath, steeling her heart before turning to him.

“so what’s up-“

“i miss you.”

they speak at the same time, but chris doesn’t falter when she gapes at him. “i��m sorry for being a fucking idiot. i’m sorry for hurting you.”

there’s not enough time for her to process anything before he’s walking towards her, slowly, like she might disappear if he makes a sudden move.

“what the fuck?”

it makes him smile slightly. he looks down for a second before closing the remaining space between them. he’s right in front of her now, and feels every hair on her body raise. his eyes are so honest, so open that it kind of takes her breath away. there’s a tiredness to him. like he hadn’t been sleeping well. his eye bags are deeper than before, eyes a little more sunken in. his facial hair is more grown out than she’s ever seen it, pronounced five o’clock shadow that makes him look well beyond his years.

“i always wanted more. i think i was just being a pussy. do you remember when i asked you to meet my parents?” she nods. how could she forget? “that night, i’d been watching you in the kitchen, dancing around and cooking. asking me to try the sauce every time you added something. kicking me out when i got too close or when i asked you if you wanted help again.”

he chuckles, like he’s thinking about his favorite memory. “i was looking at you and i knew that i was in love with you. it hit me like a fucking bus. so i asked you to meet my parents.”

y/n physically can’t do anything but stare at him like he’s telling her the secrets universe.

“when you said you “didn’t think we were there yet”…” he trails off, pink tinting his cheeks. “well, it scared the shit out of me. for so many reasons. i thought that meant you didn’t feel the same. then i got scared because i thought i was falling for you and this was still something you could replace.”

she doesn’t know what to say at the confession. doesn’t know how to feel either. it seemed beyond her comprehension that there was ever a time, during their entire relationship, that chris thought his feelings were unrequited.

“why the fuck didn’t you say something when i left that night?” she says incredulously. “you let me walk out of your house thinking you didn’t feel the same. do you know how bad that hurt?”

chris cringes at the reminder. “i know, and i’m so fucking sorry. i’ve replayed that night over in my head literally a million times wishing i could change it.” when he knows she won’t back away, he puts a hand on the space between her cheek and neck. “i do feel the same way, y/n. i always have. i’m sorry i was too chicken shit to tell you. and i’m sorry that you ever felt like you had to keep hurting yourself to make me happy.”

y/n feels her resolve slipping. looking at chris, standing in her apartment after a month of missing him, of wishing he would do exactly what he’s doing now has her heart beating a thousand miles an hour. that pesky little hope fly, the one she’d thought she squished and smothered rears its ugly head again.

above all though, she’s cautious. her heart is still tender from the break it took, and she can’t do that again. she gives him a lost look, like despite all he said, she’s still missing something.

he gets closer, lips a hair away. “ask me again.”

“ask you what?”

“what you asked me that night.” he snakes a hand up her hips to her waist. it’s searing, leaving fire in its trace. “ask me again.”

she thinks back, when she realizes, her eyes soften. “what am i to you, chris?” her voice is nothing but a whisper, scared to burst the bubble around them. the moment is so sensitive and soft, the juxtaposition of the original harshness of the question definitely not lost on her.

“you’re everything to me. you’ve been my girlfriend since probably the third week we started this thing,” her breath hitches. “you’re someone i never want to lose again.”

and when he kisses her, cause he just knows, y/n feels herself exhale. feels the pieces of her heart click back in place. it’s like find a lost puzzle piece under a couch cushion. like the first sip of ice cold water on a scorching day.

she grabs on to him tightly, losing herself in it completely. his lips chase her every way she moves, not standing to be disconnected. it’s messy and beautiful and right. it’s all the miscommunication, fear of the unknown and doubt circling down the metaphorical drain.

she pulls away to speak, but chris doesn’t let her up. she gives him one, two, three kisses back to back before she turns her head, laughing relentlessly. “chris!”

he doesn’t stop smothering her, placing his lips on the corner of her mouth, her neck, her cheek— everywhere he can reach.

“it’s been so long. you can’t expect me to not want you close, baby.”

her heart swells ten times in size, filling her ribcage beautifully. she grabs his face in her hands, raising a stern eyebrow. “i have to say something.” chris pouts slightly, and because she’s waited so long for this, and he’s looking at her like he could never live a second without her, she places one more lingering kiss to his full lips.

“i love you, too, by the way.”

the way his face lights up has even the brightest star withering in envy. he wraps his arms all the way around her body, pulling her impossibly closer.

who knows how long they stay there, heart to heart, finally, finally exactly where they should’ve been all along.

and when they lay close in y/n’s bed that night, skin to skin and deliriously happy, they both have the same thought.

fuck casual.

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a/n: jesus fuck this shit took me FOREVER. i hope yall like it cause i spent so long tweaking it and rewriting some parts cause i wanted it to be perfect. this song also is embedded in my bones and i’m obsessed with it so bad. how we feeling cherrie nation!!!

also yes before y’all start… number neighbor!ten will be up with in the hour!! i wanted to post a bunch cause i’ve been working so fucking much and finally had a real day off. back at it tomorrow doe </3

anyways love yall so bad i hope u like it 🥹

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koimethehorizon · 2 days

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Amazing Digital Circus Theory: Gangle is an NPC

Sooo, I wasn’t expecting to talk about this show. I was perfectly content to just enjoy Digital Circus as is.

It’s a show that invites theories as to what exactly’s going on with the setting and characters, but I didn’t have much room to think too hard about it. Who’s Abel? Is Pomni really a human? Why is this VR game emulating an N64 game at the start? I like the show plenty, but it just wasn’t as interesting to go hard on any of those questions at the time.

But with this recent episode… a single, perhaps throwaway line got the brain nagging. And it’s kind of a bizarre one to waste hours analyzing.

Okay, so yeah, it’s a joke on submissive and breedable. (Don’t give them ideas) But try taking it at face value.

What does he mean by this? Sure, Jax is an asshole, and being a bullied kid is Gangle’s whole archetype… but what if it means a little more than that?

Gangle’s trapped for all eternity this asshole and she’s just letting him boss her around. Zooble can choose not to participate, so no one has to. Why does Gangle listen to Jax at all?

Let's entertain a thought: Is Gangle an NPC?

With Episode 2 bringing so much attention to the autonomy of NPCs, it seemed natural to start pointing fingers at characters being this or that. But this isn't just a random crackshot, I feel that there is a story to tell here.

Look back at Pomni’s “orientation” with the other humans. Ragatha, Zooble, and Jax ease her by saying that they’ve been trapped in this world for years and then bring attention to Kinger being the oldest.

But Gangle… she’s isolated from the peanut gallery, busy moping about the broken comedy mask instead.

Every character has been given some hints as to how they’ve been coping with the situation. Jax no longer empathizes with anything, Ragatha once had trouble adjusting but now tries to stay happy, Zooble picks and chooses her involvement, Kinger is the eldest and just exists for the hell of it, and Pomni is new to everything.

With Gangle, it’s a blank. No opinion, no hints of her human side, how long she’s been here, no thoughts on the games, nothing. She’s just Jax’s punching bag.

Even Kinger gets a potshot on Gangle in a rock-paper-scissors game…. and he likely forgot that she doesn’t have hands!

And that brings me to another detail. Doesn't Gangle look different from the others?

Unlike everyone else, Gangle's just a mask and a ribbon. No hands or legs, or just any limbs in general. She stands out as looking a bit simpler than the others.

Gangle's most interesting design trait is that she's based on comedy and tragedy masks. The ones used old Greek theater to dictate the emotions of their characters.

The first episode seems to imply that with a broken comedy mask, Gangle literally can’t stay happy. Hence why we see her sad most of the time. That's a strange limitation if Gangle's human mind is supposed to be completely intact, especially with how expressive the other characters can be.

It's not delved into too much but does Gangle actually rely on these masks to "feel" emotions?

The obvious hole is that Caine would’ve just killed her a while ago if she was an NPC, but he's not exactly omniscient.

He even admits that he has to kill them off because it’s possible for him to lose track.

Now normally I could just stop here, but I’m all about the grand statements. You know, the retroactive readings of an episode once you get a theory going. Why does Gangle being an NPC matter at all? How does Ep 2 change?

While deep diving, I realized that the thematic core of Episode 2 is Pomni and Jax’s approaches to surviving the Digital Circus.

In Pomni’s A plot, we see her connecting with Gummigoo, the NPC that Caine pitted their group against. After discovering him lamenting his new reality, she finds a strange comfort in being existentially lost together. Because in the end the NPCs and the humans are just as displaced and frightened in this meaningless world.

In Jax’s B plot, he forces Gangle to follow some insane orders. Sabotage the game to let the big chocolate turd monster destroy the Candy Kingdom. To Jax, he is the main character. Helping or displeasing this giant population of fake people doesn’t have any consequence for him, so why humor anyone but yourself?

A bit of a stretch, but what if Jax already knows Gangle is an NPC and is keeping it quiet as long as Gangle follows orders, hence the “submissive” comment? He’d be a way more unpleasant character with this reading, but it doesn’t seem off the cards with how he treats everyone anyway.

This dichotomy already plays out well within the episode, but when reframing it as Pomni and Gummigoo vs Jax and Gangle, the parallel is a lot more interesting.

Make an NPC an equal, they die. But keep an NPC under wraps as long as they continue to obey you… they live.

The episode ends with a grim conundrum that NPCs can’t be together with the humans, not because of their differences but because they're just... not allowed to be. But what if one already in the group, proving that they’re just as capable as the humans to play the games and grieve loved ones together?

PS. Despite knowing everyone else's name, I actually forgot Gangle's until I started finding evidence for this intrusive thought. Sorry Gangle.

PSS. I couldn't fit this anywhere, but Gangle's door frame doesn't work as evidence against the NPC theory, because even the mannequins have their own rooms in that hallway.

#animation #the amazing digital circus #character analysis #discussion #theories #tadc gangle #tadc jax #pomni #tadc ragatha #tadc kinger #tadc caine #tadc zooble #gummigoo #tadc spoilers

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wintrwinchestr · 13 hours

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an overture of indulgence (joel miller x f!reader oneshot) 18+

summary: it's been a long time since you've seen joel, and some things have changed, but a lot has stayed the same. namely, how quickly he can still get you on his knees for him, ready to show him exactly just how much you like what has changed about him.

warnings: 18+, smut, post-outbreak, jackson joel, d/s relationship dynamics, pet names (baby, babygirl, sweetheart, sweet girl, etc), body worship, belly kink, talk of weight gain, belly riding, m/f masturbation, lil bit of humiliation kink, lil bit of edging, reader is an adult but age otherwise unspecified, reader is shorter than joel and has hair long enough to grab, let me know if i missed anything :)

word count: 4.3k

a/n: just fuckin outing myself left and right these days huh. idk what came over me with this one. started this late last night and here it is now. belly enjoyers rise!!!!!!! nice comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoyed <3 you can't kink shame me bc i like getting bullied so now what. also i avoided daddy kink for once in my life please clap. i know i’m spoiling y’all this weekend don’t get used to it.

divider by @saradika

“...Joel?!” you shout, your leisurely walking pace quickly turning into a hurried jog as you leave Tommy behind, making a beeline toward the man you would swear on your life is Joel Miller. A small handful of years ago now, he was kind of your boyfriend, kind of not, kind of something else more complicated and unlabeled, because who can afford to put a label on anything in times like these?

Joel’s head turns in your direction at the sound of his name, and as soon as you spot that crooked scar across the bridge of his nose, you’re certain it’s him.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe it,” you half-cry, throwing your weight into him as you wrap him in a tight embrace. He’s much taller than you, but you still managed to knock him off his balance a little. He envelops your whole body in one of his signature, all-encompassing hugs, and it’s like no time has passed at all.

The two of you had ended whatever it was you had on good terms, no hard feelings or animosity shared between you. It was just hard to maintain any kind of relationship in a world like this, and trying to nurture romance in the Boston QZ was much like trying to grow a rose garden in toxic, radioactive soil. You can put as much care and effort and something like love into it as you have in you, but the circumstances will just never allow it to reach its full potential. The end of your “relationship” was mutual, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Especially when he had disappeared one day without so much as saying goodbye.

When you had stumbled upon Tommy and a group of patrollers in the snowy forest outside Jackson just earlier today, you were alone, tired, and losing hope that this rumored safe haven even existed at all. You had heard crackles through the radio in the QZ about the community, and even though it sounded too good to be true, what else did you have to lose anymore? After months of travel and survival and pain and hunger, you’d never been so happy to meet a bunch of strangers in the woods in your whole life. You didn’t hesitate to get on the back of Tommy’s horse, and let him lead you to the sanctuary they spoke of.

As he was giving you a tour, proudly showing off their electricity, running water, fresh food, and clean houses, you had started to look forward to what the future may bring, for the first time in a long time. You could never have imagined you’d ever run into Joel again, that this is where he had ended up, of all places. And now here the both of you are, bodies pressed as tightly together as possible, breathing in each other’s familiar scents and never wanting to let go again.

Joel is the first to break the embrace, grasping your head in his large hands and frantically searching your face for any sign that he could be dreaming, that fate hasn’t really brought you back together again after all.

“Jesus Christ, it’s really you,” he breathes, and you swear his voice breaks just a little bit as he presses his lips to your forehead, closing his eyes as he does.

When he blinks them open again, he meets Tommy’s gaze, who’s standing quietly a few yards back from where you’re having your sentimental reunion. Tommy gives an understanding nod, and gestures that he’ll be waiting inside the community’s dining hall, gathering that whatever this is happening between his brother and some girl he only just met, he shouldn’t interrupt. Joel is grateful for many things today, one of them being the rekindled bond he has with Tommy, the other being how you somehow miraculously found your way back to him.

Small groups of other Jackson residents follow Tommy into the dining hall shortly afterward, and as the sun begins to set behind the mountains, Joel realizes it must be about time for dinner to be served.

He detaches his lips from your forehead, brushing some of your hair away from your face as he takes you in again. “You poor thing, must be starvin’ I bet,” he wonders aloud, giving you a sympathetic look.

“Kinda always am, just as a rule, but yeah,” you reply, trying to make light of your situation. Though, Joel doesn’t seem to find the humor in it the way you do.

“Long as you stay here, ain’t ever gotta worry about that again, that’s for damn sure.” He runs his tongue across his lips as he finishes his sentence, already knowing that whatever meal they’re serving tonight, it’ll be some of the most delicious food he’s had in a long time. He suspects you’ll feel much the same. “C’mon, let’s get you inside. Get you warm and fed for once in your life.”

–

Your heart, your stomach, your soul, all feel full as you relax into the comfortable couch in the living room of Joel’s cozy home. He wouldn’t even entertain the idea of you staying in an empty house all by yourself tonight, insisting that if you’d like some company while you settle in, you were more than welcome to his. He had let you spend as long as you wanted to in his shower, and he didn’t mind if there was hardly any warm water left by the time you were done. He sure as hell wasn’t paying the bill, and you deserved to feel truly clean. He can remember clear as day how he felt after his first Jackson shower, like he had stripped off a layer of grime he hadn’t been able to scrub all the way clean in twenty years. He had gone to Maria to get you some clothes and underwear while you were bathing, and set them silently on the sink counter for you to put on whenever you were done.

And now here you sit, feeling full and clean and satisfied and comfortable and safe, watching Joel stoke the logs in his fireplace as it casts the whole room in a honey orange glow. You take a moment to admire him while he isn’t looking, and even in the dim and flickering lighting, you can see he’s just as handsome as he was the last time you saw him. He looks older, with more gray in his longer hair and meat on his bones, the latter trait likely due to years worth of the hearty cooking you both indulged in tonight. He looks… good like this.

“It really is nice to see you again, you know. You look…” you start, not being able to help the way your eyes wander to his soft lower belly, the way it pushes taut against his tucked-in flannel shirt and just barely spills over the edge of his jeans.

He turns his head away from the fire to face you. You’re not very subtle in your staring, and he knows what you’re referring to right away. He huffs a light chuckle, trying to brush off the way he thinks you’re poking fun at him.

“I know, I know,” he acknowledges, placing a hand on his stomach. “Been tryin’ to get Maria to give me some more patrol shifts, see if I can get some of the weight off. But hey, you try havin’ three square meals a day for the first time in twenty some odd years, see what it does to you, huh?” He pivots his attention back to the fireplace, and he seems to turn his body further away from you on purpose, so that you can’t see the round profile of his tummy as much.

“No! No, it, um… It suits you. I was gonna say you look good, actually.” You’re quick in your reply, trying to make it clear that you didn’t mean to offend him, without letting too much on.

He scoffs. “C’mon, you don’t gotta flatter me, sweetheart. I know I don’t exactly look the way you remember–”

“Joel, will you stop?” you interrupt, your voice laced with exasperation. “I’m being serious. Do I look like I’m making fun of you?”

He cranes his neck to look back at where you’re perched on the couch, and gives you a once over. “Guess not… Look a lil’ like somethin’ else, though, if I'm bein’ honest,” he says with a teasing smirk. And there he is again, the same quick-witted Joel you remember from back in the QZ.

You choose to engage in his banter, just to see where he’s going with it. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

He shrugs, beginning to mindlessly poke at the firewood again. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you look like you might like it.”

He’s just kidding around with you, trying to rile you up, you’re sure. But when he gets silence in return instead of the sound of you jumping to defend yourself with another playful jab, he turns to face you once more, and is met with your stunned expression.

“Oh…” Joel looks down at himself, then back to you again, just in time to catch your eyes flitting from his middle back up to his face. “What, you like ‘em big, sweetheart? ‘S that it?”

The truth is, you do, you always have. It was never a requirement, of course, as the guys you’d been with before Joel all had varying body types. But you’d be lying to yourself if you said that your eyes didn’t linger just a bit longer on guys with a little more to them, with wider arms and thicker legs and a softer middle. You’ve never admitted your preference to anyone before, and Joel calling you out on it now has your face running hot, skin feeling prickly as he sees through you like you’re made of glass.

“I-I don’t– I mean, I do, kinda, but not like that… Well, it is like that, I just mean–” You stumble over yourself, fearing you’ve revealed too much, wishing you could rewind the conversation and just tell him it was nice to see him again, plain and simple.

Joel lays the fire poker down on the granite ledge of the fireplace, approaching where you’re sitting and cupping the side of your face with his calloused hand.

“Sh, sh, stop, baby. ‘S alright if you do, nothin’ to be ashamed of,” he comforts, and it takes all the willpower you have left not to let your eyes drift down to his stomach, so close you could kiss it, if he’d let you.

“It’s just… I missed you. I thought about you all the time, wondered what ever happened to you after you left. Didn’t even know if you were alive until today. I’m just happy to see you… doing so well. To see that you’re healthy, and everything.” You swallow hard, hoping you sound convincing enough that he’ll let this go, forget all about your little admission just now. But of course, Joel is as stubborn as he’s ever been, and he doesn’t plan on releasing you from his trap now that you’re ensnared in it.

“That’s sweet, baby, ‘s real sweet,” Joel says, softly, stroking his thumb across your cheekbone as he speaks. “Thought about you too, all this time. Practically every day…” He rakes his eyes over you, noticing the way his touch has you starting to melt already, how you’re looking up at him with your wide, needy eyes. “Why don’t you show me just how much you missed me, hm? How much you love seein’ me healthy, as you put it.”

You’re stunned into silence once again, jaw slack and pupils wide as you search his gaze for proof that he’s just messing with you, making fun of you just to watch you squirm. But you don’t find any.

“O-okay,” you agree in a half-whisper.

Joel smiles down at you, satisfied. “All these years later, still just the sweetest thing, ain’t you? You still just as obedient, too?”

You nod without even thinking, words catching up with your instinctual response a second later. “Mhm, yeah, I am…” You had forgotten how easy it is to submit to him, how good it feels to let the hypnotizing tone of his voice carry you somewhere far away from yourself, when you need it the most. Whether it was after a shitty day of working for shittier rations in the QZ, or after a harsh trek in harsher weather to a forested oasis, Joel always knows how to make you feel like submission is your most natural state.

“Good… Kneel for me please, sweetheart,” he commands, and you obey immediately, his hand slipping from your face as you slide from the couch onto the woven carpet beneath you. Like second nature, your hands automatically fold themselves on your lap, remembering how you were never to touch Joel until he permitted you to. He takes note of this, and praises you accordingly. “Look at that, didn’t even have to ask. Such a good girl.”

He’s so enamored with you, he almost forgets where he was going with this until he watches your eyes flash to the growing bulge in his jeans, then back up to him. “Not tonight, sweetheart. Was thinkin’ you could put that pretty mouth to use on somethin’ different this time, hm?”

You knit your brows together, not sure what he means, but he doesn’t let you wonder for long. Slowly, he starts to unbutton his flannel shirt, starting at the top and working his way down. He tosses it onto the ground, then pulls his undershirt off over his head, adding it to the other discarded clothing. Without the confines of his slightly-too-tight button-up, you can see how much he really has filled out. Everything about his upper body is just a little more plush, with petal pink stretch marks adorning the soft skin in various places. You want to make it your personal mission to kiss each and every one of them, commit their exact coordinates on his body to memory.

There's a deep scar, you notice, to the left of his belly button, that has almost successfully disguised itself as one of those pretty marks. It’s definitely new since you saw him last, and it looks like it hurt, especially with the evidence of how crudely it had been stitched back together.

“What happened?” you wonder aloud, worried eyes glued to the healed injury.

He has to peer over the curve of his belly to see what you’re looking at. “Long story. Happened on my way out here, after I left Boston. Nothin’ for you to worry about, sweet girl, hardly even hurt. Forget it’s even there, most of the time,” he answers, still with a dominant edge to his voice that does a mostly good job of convincing you it’s the truth.

“Can… Can I?” you ask, waiting to receive his permission before you move your hands from your lap.

“Yeah, baby, go ahead,” Joel allows.

You reach out a small hand to gently trace over the raised scar, then press your lips to it with your hands splayed out on either side of your head, just barely pressing into his belly. He releases a soft groan, cradling the back of your head with one of his hands, applying the lightest amount of pressure to let you know this is where he wants to keep you.

“Why don’t you keep goin’, sweetheart? Gimme some more lovin’ like that, know you wanna,” he encourages, and you think you get the idea now, what it is he wanted to put your pretty mouth to use for.

With his explicit permission to continue, you don’t need telling twice. You move your face to hover just in front of his belly button, admiring the dense salt and pepper happy trail that sprouts from where his jeans push into his soft skin. You drag your tongue along the hair, nipping at the soft curve of where it disappears into the divot in his stomach. He makes a noise in response, half pained and half pleasured, but he doesn’t stop you. Just for good measure, you place a kiss to the little blushing mark where your teeth had scraped him.

Almost of their own volition, it seems, your hands begin to knead at his stomach as you make good on your promise to yourself to kiss every single one of his stretch marks. You allow your tongue to dart from your mouth on the last one, and Joel sucks in a breath.

“Oh, fuck. Forgot how good that wet lil’ mouth feels on me, sweetheart. Keep goin’,” he says, voice coming out strained. His fingers curl tightly into your hair, and he begins to maneuver your face around his belly. You lathe your tongue over his skin as he does, slicking him with wet, sloppy kisses. “Yeah, baby, you fuckin’ worship it, show me how much you like me like this.”

It’s a little humiliating, but just enough that you like the feeling. You’re breathing hard and fast, letting out little whimpers as your fluttering cunt begins to soak your underwear. He brings your face to a stop at the most tantalizing part of him, the part that truly evidences how much more he’s allowed himself to indulge since settling in Jackson. The ample curve of flesh that just barely conceals the waistband of his jeans, the part you’ve wanted to get your mouth on since you first saw how it strained the lower buttons of his shirt. You latch onto it, massaging the skin around it as you use your teeth and tongue to suck a mark into him.

A growl rumbles from deep in his chest, and he curses under his breath. “Like it that much, huh? Fuck, naughty thing, look at you.”

You’re so fucking turned on, you’re shivering, rocking where you kneel and squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to get some kind of relief. You let one of your hands drift to the hard shape in Joel’s jeans, and it seems he’s enjoying this as much as you are. He spots your pathetic little squirms and as you rut against nothing, and then he’s using his grip on your hair to pull you up from the floor.

“Got an idea. Up,” he commands roughly, and you detach your lips from his belly to obey his order. “Get these off, there we go.” He pulls down your sweatpants and underwear, helping you step out of them. “Christ, you’re soaked,” Joel teases, eyeing the sizable wet spot in your panties as he tosses them aside to join the other forgotten clothing. He reaches a hand toward the apex of your thighs, teasing your wet pussy and gathering some of your slick on two of his fingers. You let out a tiny yelp, but let him play with you, and then he’s bringing his fingers in front of his face and examining the sticky strings of your arousal when he spreads them apart. “All this just from lettin’ you worship all this, huh?” he taunts, patting his stomach once for emphasis. “Who’d’ve thought? Not that I’m complainin’...”

He quickly rids himself of his jeans and briefs, then reclines onto the couch with a quiet groan, stretching out his body along the length of it. Your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, hard and leaking as it bobs against his belly, his precum adding to the dampness still there from your tongue. “Come sit, sweetheart,” Joel says, softly, motioning with both of his hands for you to come closer.

You grip a hand onto the backrest of the couch to balance yourself while you move to straddle him, prepared to sink down onto his length for the first time in way too fucking long. “Uh uh, not there, baby,” he instructs, smirking when he sees how you hesitate in confusion. “Take a seat right here for me.” Again, he pats that most tempting area of his lower belly, and you just about fall apart at the sight of how his flesh ripples in the wake of it.

“Yeah, there you go, good girl,” he praises, both hands gripping your waist as he helps you settle your weight onto his soft abdomen.

“I dunno, don’t wanna hurt you–” you start, but he cuts you off swiftly.

“You won’t, baby. I’m a big man, ain’t I?” he teases, flashing you a devilish and knowing smile. “Go on, sweetheart, ride it.”

You inhale a shuddering breath, then place both of your hands on his shoulders to hold yourself up. You start an experimental buck into his belly, and that trail of dark hair tickles your clit so perfectly. It takes a few tries for you to get the positioning and pressure just right, and then you’re truly riding him, using his full stomach to get yourself off while he watches.

“God, that’s good. Use it, baby. You love me bigger, love that I’ve been eatin’ so good, prove it to me, c’mon,” Joel goads, and it spurs you on to grind against him harder, faster, as incoherent mumbles and curses tumble from your lips.

“Love it, Joel, you look so good, fuck. So fucking–mmh–so big, makes me so… so–”

“I know it does, sweet girl, I know. Makes you fuckin’ soaked is what it does, god damn. You gonna get my belly all messy, hm? Gonna rub your lil’ cunt all over it, get me all fuckin’ wet, hm?”

“Uh huh, yeah, gonna… I’m gonna–” you whine, eyes shutting tight as your hips pick up their pace. You move your hands from his shoulders to place them on his stomach instead, grabbing at handfuls of his tummy in an effort to create something more solid to rub yourself against.

You’re already embarrassingly close, the humiliating edge to your earlier worship having gotten you most of the way there on its own. So swollen and sensitive it almost hurts, you won’t need much more to reach your high.

“Not without me, you ain’t. Gonna be right there with ya. You remember how we used to do it?” Joel asks, as if you could ever forget. He’s referring to your many late nights, early mornings, in his bed or in a back alley or wherever in the QZ, where he liked to make sure you both finished at the same time. You’d always be the first one to reach the edge, because he’d focus all his attention on getting you there before him, just to make you wait. It was never something punishing, just something he liked to do as an extra bit of control and dominance, and he knew it always made your orgasms that much more powerful and satisfying when he would finally permit you to let go.

With your eyes closed, so focused on your own pleasure, you hadn’t noticed that he had reached behind you to start fisting his cock some time ago. But you can hear it now, the wet schlick of his hand moving up and down his shaft as he works himself. “Hold it for me, sweetheart, I know you can. Keep rubbin’ your pretty pussy against me, jus’ like that, almost there…”

You mewl, screwing your face up as you force yourself to slow down your thrusts, muscles tense as you try to keep your orgasm at bay for as long as you can.

Thankfully, he must be worked up enough from seeing you fall apart for him so easily for the first time in so long, that his permission comes just a few minutes later.

“Come for me, babygirl, soak my fuckin’ belly, c’mon,” Joel growls, and you fall forward immediately, twitching and spasming and crying out into the soft muscle of his shoulder as you ride out the shuddering shocks of your orgasm. He groans next to your ear as he comes, and you can feel the warm ropes of his own release as some of them land on your lower back. You’re both wet, heaving messes, as you embrace each other for the second time today and work on catching your breath.

So exhausted from the day you had, you must’ve fallen asleep against his chest as you laid there, because then you’re being woken up by the dull scratch of his fingertips against your scalp and his familiar voice working its way through the thick fog that clouds your tired brain.

“You alright, baby?” he asks, and you can hear that he’s smiling, amused at this sleepy little thing he’s got clinging to him.

“Mhm, jus’ tired,” you answer, a barely-there mumble of a sentence.

“I’ll bet… You wanna get cleaned up? Get all tucked into bed?”

You shake your head against his neck, and he chuckles.

“No? Whatcha wanna do then, hm?”

“Jus’ lay here. Missed you. Don’t wanna let… go…”

Your sentence drifts off into silence before the temptation of sleep allows you to finish it, but Joel gets the idea. He smiles to himself, kissing the top of your head, and hugs you closer. Both of you are still sticky and damp, but satisfied. And together again. And that’s a hell of a lot better than the alternative.

So he agrees, and you stay like that for the rest of the night. Joel doesn’t worry about whether or not he remembered to set his alarm clock for his extra patrol shift the next morning, or if he’ll even hear it all the way from his bedroom upstairs, because it doesn’t matter anyway. He has you, and you made it very clear tonight just how much you like him exactly the way he is.

Maybe, your rose garden can finally begin to bloom, now that the pair of you have somewhere safe and comfortable and healthy to try your hand at nurturing it again.

tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

#my writing #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #daddy!joel miller #joel miller smut

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agustdtown1 · 11 hours

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SHUT UP AND DRIVE | JJK

PAIRING: street racer!jungkook x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Anyone could have predicted how bad it is to make a bet with your brother, yet you were hoping the outcome would be different. But alas, you were meant to be taught a lesson tonight; never go behind your brother’s back.

WC: 6.4k

WARNINGS: brother’s best friend trope, a lot of plot, light angst (if you squint), I know nothing about cars so there might be very inaccurate cars/street racing stuff. Smut, brief mention of oral sex (f receiving), brief mention of fingering, dirty talk, pet names, slight grinding, handjob, manhandling, jk calling mc dumb (1 time), unprotected sex, hair pulling, big dick!jk, jk didn’t pull out (oops). Can’t think of anything else, if I’m missing something lmk.

A/N: got a bit carried away with the plot oops, but i hope you enjoy your reading.

masterlist

Growing up in a city as big as yours, you had to learn to love its evident duality. How the sky would go from bright blue to pinkish to orange, and lastly a deep and dark blue that left you feeling at ease whenever you looked up at the stars. Those colors were the only indicators to make changes throughout the day. That characteristic transferred onto you with such an ease during the early stages of life, and now it was second nature to show different colors of yourself depending on the time and place you were found in.

The city would change and turn into a whole different place when midnight struck. During the day, streets were filled with the mouthwatering smell of food, along with the indistinct chatter of the pedestrians trying to find solace in the nearest place that would protect them from the scorching sun; under a bright blue sky. You would see kids clinging to their mothers while crossing the streets; teenagers racing their friends to the nearest convenience store, and betting their allowance on whoever gets first; along with couples sharing ice cream cones, with the sweetest of smiles plastered on their faces; covered in a pinkish color due to the beautiful sky looking down on them. You could even see people dreadfully walking towards their workplace for their 9 to 5 shift, with orange hues decorating the background. However, at night that scenario was completely erased.

The dark blue sky, tinted with the most beautiful array of stars would prone adults in their early twenties and late thirties to hop from bar to bar; looking for any alcoholic beverage to throw into their system that could make them forget about their overworked and underpaid jobs, or their stressful college life. The yellow hues of the street lights would adorn every dark corner, along with the neon signs outside the obnoxiously loud clubs scattered around the city, illuminating the excited faces of the pedestrians walking straight into those stuffy places. The music, albeit too scandalous for your own liking, served as an invitation for others to peek into the deceiving nightclubs, only for them to be wrapped into the tricky hands of an owner that would encourage people to spike others’ drinks.

But that’s what nightlife in your city was about, shitty alcohol, overrated music, and the occasional creeps lurking for anyone who they deemed “worthy” enough for them.

Nonetheless, that wasn’t the part of the city that you loved most. It was not the bars, not the clubs, not the alcohol, and certainly not the crazy people surrounding you in packed rooms. That would never make that thrilling sensation spread throughout your body to ignite a flame within your heart.

The south side would.

The abandoned buildings that served as a sanctuary for all those who wanted to take risks and forget about their lives, at least for a night. It would be the blaring music coming from the speakers of a severely modified ‘65 Ford Mustang. It would be the cold drink sitting in your hand, while you listened to one of your brother’s friends talk about his next race.

That’s what excited you, that’s what kept you alive.

Your brother was well known in the street racing world, everyone knew who Kim Taehyung was, and hence to that, everybody knew who you were as well. It was as if your brother had thrown a spell on you. Your name didn’t matter, though, it was pointless to urge people to use it, you were often addressed as Vante’s —which was the nickname people in the racing world would use to refer to him— little sister. And as annoying as it was, it was equally beneficial. The perks of having a popular brother would provide you with the nicest parking spot at Mura’s restaurant; it would draw people to pay for your drinks in order to make a good impression for either of you; but most importantly it would scare the creeps away, which you were very thankful for.

Taehyung often brought you along with him every weekend, racing in one of his precious cars that he worked so hard to get. While you watched —and occasionally cheered— him, swerving through lanes, pulling stunts that never failed to make your heart quicken its pace, and hold your breath until he was out of a dangerous zone. That’s what your life has come down to.

The roaring engines of classy and modern cars echoing through the streets; the smell of gasoline and smoke mixed with the aroma of anticipation and failure emanating from the racers; along with the scent of weed and beer. You were used to people walking a bit too close to you, invading your personal space to do simple things like asking where they can find the restroom —there’s none—. You were now accustomed to the wide view of your city at night, with the sparkly lights shining in the distance and the tall buildings looking small for once; almost untouchable.

“I’m telling you Tae, these new rims are worth it.” Jimin, one of your brother’s friends, was so desperately trying to prove his point.

He recently made a purchase for Taehyung’s car that was deemed unnecessary by your brother himself. His blond friend —although it wasn’t his natural hair color— was the one in charge of upgrading Taehyung’s car every now and then. His extravagant tendencies, however, would push him towards making decisions out of pure enjoyment and not strategically. Hence why the two guys were found in such a predicament.

A modification made under no other reason than to make the car look cool, which was, in hindsight, impractical. But Taehyung was the kind of guy that couldn’t say no to his friends, and so instead of asking him to change the rims back to his preferred ones, your brother opted to let out the longest sigh that his lungs allowed him to, and asked the important questions.

“Did you adjust the brake discs, at least?” He queried, in a flat voice.

“Of course, I did! Who do you take me for?” Jimin brightly answered, with a slightly faltering smile.

Park Jimin was an interesting guy. Whimsical as a fairy tale, and mischievous as they come, but with an IQ that would leave you wondering how a guy that looked like the embodiment of hardcore partying, would speak about mechanical stuff with such an ease and fluency. Amazing, in more ways than just one, never living up to the expectations of others, and more often than not, he would go to the farthest extents to be out of the ordinary.

At first glance, it was a stark contrast to who your brother was and made himself out to be, however, after being dragged into their nonsensical banter on more occasions than what you would like to be in, it was rightfully proved that both boys were more alike than what they would actually admit.

Truth be told, their exchanges were always comical. It wasn’t rare for the two boys to bicker and throw shady comments to one another in a monotone voice, which would make you think they were one hundred percent serious about the matter. But rather than ending up in a fight, they would simply laugh it off and move onto the next best thing to do, which usually was annoying you. And although it was unbearable to deal with a hyper-aware-of-his-influence-on-people type of guy and your I’m-too-cool-to-be-talking-to-you type of brother, you wouldn’t, in all honesty, have it any other way.

“I made Hoseok hyung do it.” Park’s unbothered demeanor finally broke under Taehyung’s piercing stare. “So rest assured, it won’t interfere with your race tonight.”

Your brother only hummed in acknowledgment, nodding once he was reassured that there would be no problem with his car.

“Speaking of which,” Your breezy voice slipped into their conversation easily, “where’s Hobi?”

Jung Hoseok was often described as the embodiment of a ray of sunshine, and rightfully so. The boy would light up a room whenever he stepped in, so unaware of how his lively attitude would be the best remedy for a gloomy day. Out of all your brother’s friends, you reasoned with him the most. Hoseok was easy to talk to, easy to be around. Whenever you felt like you were on the verge of losing your calmness, you would find solace in his soft arms, engulfing you in a warm embrace.

“He’s on the way.” Your brother responded shortly after. “Jungkook had to pick him up, but he’s coming, don’t worry.”

There was a glint in your brother’s eyes that left you slightly squirming in your place. Maybe it was the meaning behind the “he’s coming”, and how you were sure that he wasn’t exactly referring to Hoseok anymore at the last part. Perhaps it was the guilt that was rapidly creeping up in your chest, almost urging you to add some commentary to his response, to clear the air and come clean for once. Or it could be the fact that, deep down, you knew your brother was aware of your little secret.

It wasn’t a hunch anymore, Taehyung knew. And it was confirmed when his deep brown eyes slowly drifted towards you when both of his friends finally arrived.

An all black Mercedes AMG parked right besides your brother’s car, blinding you by its bright lights. Hoseok was the one to get out first, sporting a wide smile while walking towards where you and the other two boys were standing. With a faltering grin, you greeted the boy whom you were asking about no longer than a minute ago, however, in that precise moment, you were no longer preoccupied by his whereabouts. Instead, you held your breath, waiting for the person behind the steering wheel, the one who hasn’t made an appearance just yet.

“How’s it going, Hobi hyung?” Jimin asked, after a quick handshake with the aforementioned guy.

“It’s all good…”

Their conversation was tuned out for you the moment the driver's door was finally opened. It all happened at a tortuous slow speed; a pair of black combat boots were the first thing in sight, followed by a pair of washout baggy jeans and an oversized black t-shirt. Your eyes were quick to gravitate towards the tattoo sleeve the guy was sporting; fingers cladded in rings and a silver bracelet adorning his wrist. His fashion sense was one most guys envied, nonetheless, no one has been able to look as good as the man in front of you in oversized black clothes.

“Long time no see.” His amused tone snapped you out of your thoughts.

Jungkook was standing tall in front of you, with a mischievous look in his eyes, one that secretly warned you about the possible risky situation you will be in tonight. And as much as you’d want to say no, it was impossible for you to reject any proposition the boy was willing to make.

However, no one could really blame you for falling that hard for him.

Jeon Jungkook was a man often described as charming, flirty, funny and, evidently, attractive. Girls would fawn over the young man all the time, staring at him with bedroom eyes whenever he made an appearance; it was interesting the way Jungkook walked around as if he owned the place, lowkey bragging about his car and his winning strike with such confidence, but not even once he showed an ounce of arrogance when talking to you. He proved over and over again that the generic description people would give about him was undeniably true. He was charming, flirty and quite attractive, however, you would add another adjective to the long list of words that girls always used when talking about your brother’s friend; troublesome.

Jeon Jungkook was a walking disaster, a man worthy of a warning sign. The bright yellow with dark letters and a huge exclamation mark type of warning. But alas, you never noticed, not while he was charming you up since the first night you two met. You were in too deep now, with no way out, more than coming to terms with the consequences you were bound to face, once you decide to be honest with your brother that is.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, JK.” Taehyung was the first one to talk, making you look away from the man a few feet away from you. “How’s it been?”

“It could’ve been better.”

You could feel his piercing stare, but refused to look in his direction.

“Ready for tonight?” He opted to ask once he realized you weren’t budging. “Heard the prize is five grand this time.”

“Yeah, I’m taking all that money with me when I win.”

At that you scoffed playfully, looking at your overly confident brother.

“If you win.” A mischievous smirk took place on your face.

“You still doubt me, little sis?” Taehyung directed his attention to you, taking interest in the way you decided to finally insert yourself in the conversation. “Why don’t we make a bet then?”

Hoseok and Jimin were quick to encourage the proposition, fueling the fire for competition between you and Taehyung.

“What are we betting?” You questioned.

“Anything you want”

The possibilities were endless, you could bet money or his secret stash of snacks, hidden in his apartment; you could even ask him for his overly expensive shirt that looked better on you than it did him. But all those things were somewhat easy to provide, easy to give away; however, there was one thing that your brother has always refused to do.

“If you lose…” you drifted off, pretending that you were thinking about what you wanted. “I’ll be the one racing next Saturday.”

Taehyung’s face morphed into a grimace, his serene stance changed to one more rigid and tense. He wasn’t expecting your answer to be that, but then again, it should have been telling by the way you were so quick to agree to the deal.

“Oh and I’ll use one of your cars, too.” The cherry of the cake, as if your previous statement wasn’t enough.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea—” Jungkook wanted to mediate and make you ponder about your proposition and how dangerous it was.

“Alright.” Taehyung cut him off, with a decisive look in his eyes. “I’ll let you take any car you want.”

“And if Vante wins?” Hoseok asked, eagerly.

“I’ll tell her later.”

A weird feeling found home in your chest after your brother’s statement. Something within you was telling you that making that bet was the worst idea you could have had so far. Whether you didn’t want to ponder over it, or you were too sure that you would win, you didn’t argue about his ambiguous answer anymore. Instead, you let him make his way towards his car, getting ready for a race that would change a lot of things after tonight.

A cold hand was quick to wrap around your right arm, preventing you from following Taehyung’s path, like Jimin and Hoseok did.

“Are you sure you wanna continue with this?” Jungkook’s preoccupied voice almost made you coo at him, but at the same time it ignited a desire to push his buttons.

“Why wouldn’t I?” You argued. “It's fifty-fifty. Worst case scenario, I lose my race next week.”

After sending him a confident wink, you parted ways, positioning yourself next to Hoseok. You completely ignored the way Jungkook’s stare hardened, not willing to sour your mood with his protectiveness.

“You sure he’s gonna lose?” Hoseok asked beside you, staring right up ahead at Taehyung’s car. “He seems pretty confident, if I say so myself.”

“Why is everyone doubting me?” You groaned. “Of course he’s gonna act like that, because he needs to pretend he has everything under control.” The explanation wasn’t enough to convince your brother’s friend to be on your side. “Besides, Jimin changed his rims, that’s gotta do something to his performance, no?”

The brown haired man could only laugh, shaking his head as if saying that you couldn’t be more wrong. Your ego was bruised by his reaction. It was known that you didn’t like being laughed at or being the but of a joke you’d never understand. However, the situation in itself was way more than just your friend making fun of the little knowledge you had about cars. It was about how stupid you were for getting yourself a deal in which you won’t be the one winning.

“That just shows you’re not ready to be part of this anytime soon, little one.” Hoseok messed with your hair, before opting to pay attention to the race that was about to begin.

Taking a look at your brother, you could tell he was slightly worried, nonetheless, that worry was not enough to wash away the firm grip on the wheel or the determined look on his face. And it was just then that you realized the big mistake you made.

Maybe you should have been more clever, perhaps you really shouldn’t have pushed your luck in the way you did, but what’s done it’s done, and it was a bit too late to back down.

In hindsight, it should have been obvious who was going to be the winner tonight. Ever since you and your brother found your second home in the cold streets of the south side, Taehyung has never backed down from a challenge, let alone lose one.

So when the lady cladded in a mini skirt and tank top waved the blue bandana, you knew you were done for.

“… Set, go!”

All the cars drove past the girl at an incredibly high speed, almost knocking her out of the street. The cheering and shouting started way before the race could; people pushing others, urging them to move so they could see more clearly.

Looking away from the distant figures of the cars, you encountered a pair of brown eyes already staring at you. Jungkook hesitantly stepped forward to where you were, almost reminding you of the first time you met. His confident demeanor never made an appearance that night, and it certainly threw you off by how hesitant he seemed to approach you. However, you two hit it off right away, starting an easy conversation that led into more than it should have.

But once again, no one could really blame you.

On the night you and Jungkook met for the first time, you were entranced by his alluring physique and charming attitude. His black on black attire pulled you in, and urged you to take a few steps forward to make sure your eyes weren’t deceiving you.

He was the most handsome man you have ever seen in quite some time, and far from being exciting, it was annoying. It annoyed you the way the shiny piercing adorning his bottom lip looked so inviting, as if it was taunting you, begging you to risk it all and have a taste of it. His doe eyes were a stark contrast to who the guy seemed to be. His tough exterior got combined with a pair of big brown eyes covered in a soft glint.

It was unfair, it was annoying. Moreover, it didn’t help the fact that he granted you a beaming smile, while his tattooed hand reached out to take yours.

His whole existence was annoying, for he was off limits.

Therefore, you had to push your wandering —and very lustful— thoughts away, to the farthest corner of your mind. It was the only way to keep your relationship with your brother safe. No man will ever be worthy of messing things up with Taehyung… or so you thought.

The ugly truth was that you were tempted by the little devil on your shoulder, chanting for you to risk it all and drag the boy to the nearest dark corner, and give both of you a night that neither would be able to forget. It was hard to admit, but there was something about Jeon Jungkook that made you ponder if it would really fuck things up if you were to get intimate with him. For it was risky, as walking all alone in a deserted street at night, but tempting, like eating a forbidden fruit; and the possibility excited you.

Fast forward, the first time meeting him ended up being the first —but certainly not last— time the guy buried his face deep in between your legs, while his eager hands commenced a trip to memorize every curve and dent of your body.

No one knew at the time that amidst the deafening cheering, the blaring music coming from the speakers and the roaring of the cars’ engines, moans were falling from your swollen lips, while your back was pinned against the wall, with a pair of lips covering your body in wet kisses and avid hands were touching every inch of your skin. No one knew that while there was a race happening a few feet away from where you were located, you were also competing, desperately trying to reach your high, at the same time someone’s Camaro drove over the finish line, receiving wild cheers from the crowd.

The situation in itself was impractical and very stupid, however, in a matter of days you developed some sort of addiction towards the beautiful tall young man. And so, after getting accustomed to a routine of secrecy and betrayal, it stopped being a hard pill to swallow, but rather a recurrent predicament to be found in the strong arms of Jungkook, with his lips kissing up and down your neck while his skillful fingers were pumping in and out of your warm walls.

Even on regular days you would still yearn for his touch, playing on repeat his husky voice and the sweet nothings he would whisper in your ears, while thrusting into you.

“My pretty princess, taking me so well.”

It was like music to your ears, a melody that would lift you up so high to almost reach the sky. But despite the amazing feelings Jungkook would put you through, the unbearable truth of going behind your brother’s back and messing around with his friend outweighed the pleasure. You didn’t realize how fucked up you were by being involved in such a messy situation.

At least not until you were almost caught red handed.

“I missed you so much, princess.” A husky voice echoed through the confines of the Mercedes-Benz you were in, sending shivers down your spine. “Don’t make me wait this long to have you, ever again.”

The sentence uttered by Jeon Jungkook himself was intriguing enough for anyone who might hear it on passing, for you, nonetheless, it was sort of a complaint.

Truth be told, it wasn’t exactly your fault the lack of encounters in the past two weeks. Taehyung was starting to get suspicious, asking more questions than he usually would when you went out, he started to pay attention to every little thing Jungkook did when he was around. It was starting to become a bother for you to hide this little secret affair you two were having. And so instead of following the routine of coming over to Jeon’s place like any other day, you rain checked three times in a row. It upset him beyond belief; Jungkook was starting to get dependent on your delicate touch, on your sweet words and the pretty sounds you would make whenever he was buried deep inside you. He couldn’t stand not having you like he usually would.

In hindsight, it shouldn’t have surprised you when he pulled you out of the crowd and into his fancy car. It shouldn’t have been shocking the way his hands desperately reached out for you to position you on his lap; nor should have baffled you the way his crotch was grinding up against your core, seeking some comfort to calm the burning sensation running through his body. It was bound to happen.

“Let’s make up for the time apart, then.” You hummed, after placing a passionate kiss on his lips.

Without a second thought, your hands descended down Jungkook’s firm chest, finding their favorite place inside his pants. He felt heavy resting on your palms, and it was so obvious how painfully hard he was. Your fingers wrapped around his base, through his underwear, feeling him up. It was pure torture for the boy; not only did he need you to go faster, but he also wanted to feel the sheer touch of your hands on his aching cock.

His patience was running thin, that much was obvious by the way his gaze darkened, and the grip he had on your waist tightened.

“Princess…” Jungkook hissed. “If you’re gonna do something, do it now.”

You giggled, delighted by his eagerness and irritated voice tone. You were pushing him to the exact point you wanted to have him.

“Not so fast, baby.” You murmured against the skin of his neck, “I wanna enjoy this a little longer.”

Jungkook could only groan, letting you do whatever you wanted to him. It was so easy to be at your mercy, the tattooed man would effortlessly give himself up to you, with no objection. And that was your first mistake: taking more than you should from him.

While he was devoting his body to you willingly, it didn’t go beyond that. He wasn’t yours to take, he wasn’t yours to keep. You could only claim his body whenever he allowed you to do so. But maybe, deep down, that was enough. Perhaps having him physically was better than emotionally; that way you could avoid a complicated relationship that would need to be explained to your overprotective brother later on.

You had him for the time being, albeit not entirely, but attaining his heart seemed to be a hard task, one that you weren’t prepared to go through.

“Fuck baby, just move a little faster.” His strained words echoed through the car, snapping you back into reality.

Your hands were still wrapped around his clothed cock with a vice grip; you were sure that if it could, his dick would be already begging you to free it, and that thought alone was enough to boost your ego. Nonetheless, you ended up realizing you didn’t have much time to spare, despite wanting to keep toying with him. And so, putting an end to Jungkook’s suffering, you finally pulled down his jeans and underwear, watching his girthy cock spring free.

“Fucking finally.” He sighed in relief. “Are you gonna stop being a brat and let me fuck you dumb?”

“I don’t know, am I?” You smirked, mischievously.

Jungkook got fed up with your antics. The dark haired man groaned, pushing you off his lap and positioning you on your hands and knees, so effortlessly that it left you baffled for a few seconds. He rapidly pushed up the hem of your skirt and took off your underwear.

“I’m done playing this game of waiting.” Jungkook’s hands were firm on your skin, keeping you in place. “So be a good girl, and take my fucking cock.”

Without much of a warning, he thrusted into you. His thick tip made its way inside your cunt with ease, due to how wet you were already. It took you a couple of seconds to get used to his big size, but once Jungkook made sure it was safe to move, he bottomed out, reaching the deepest parts of your soaked pussy like no one before.

“I missed this pussy so much.” He hissed.

Moans were falling off your lips, as if they were the only sounds your mouth could utter, and maybe they were. Jungkook always knew how to turn you into a babbling mess whenever he got a hold of you. It was hard to form a coherent thought by the way he was skillfully moving inside of you, let alone to make any other sound that wasn’t a moan or a whine.

“Shit, you’re already clenching on me.” Jeon moaned, feeling your warm walls wrapped around his cock with a hard grip.

Jungkook was pounding relentlessly into you like a mad man. Maybe you underestimated his desire for you, perhaps all these days apart were actual hell for him, as it was for you. But then again, when hasn’t he been like this? It wasn’t out of the norm to be fucked into oblivion by Jungkook. He would often find creative ways to ruin you, to leave you a complete mess once he was done with you.

Hasn’t it been clear already, how much he could do for you? How bad he needed you?

“Jungkook… fuck.” His name left your mouth in an attempt to beg for mercy, for him to slow down a little, but it was pointless. Not even God himself would make him relent.

“What’s that baby? I can’t hear you.” His fingers weaved through your hair to get a good grip, pulling your head back as he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Be a sweetheart and finish your sentence for me, hm?”

Your eyes rolled back, enjoying how deep he was going. Neither your mouth nor your brain seemed to work at the moment, and it was difficult to comply with what Jungkook asked of you.

“Come on, princess, don’t make me repeat myself.” Every word was accompanied by a hard thrust.

“It’s— too m-much...” You struggled to say, while your mouth hung low and an obscene sound came out of it. “Please…”

A chuckle rumbled inside Jungkook’s chest, transferring the vibrations onto your body. He was so deliciously close, that it was easy to sense every reaction, to hear every little sound that would abandon his lips unwillingly.

“Please what?” He urged you to keep talking. “Baby so dumb that can’t even speak properly, can she?”

His words shouldn’t arouse you in the way they did, but oddly enough, his husky voice combined with the rude term ignited a flame inside of you. However, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing you were enjoying every bit of it.

“Fuck… you!” The words came out through gritted teeth.

“That’s what I’m doing, honey.” Despite not being able to see him directly, you could tell he was grinning. “Can’t you feel me? Should I go deeper then?”

Had you been more clever, you would have kept your mouth shut, because if it was difficult to deal with his unrelenting pace, it became unbearable when he changed the speed only to thrust harder and deeper than before.

“Can you feel me now, princess?”

Such a dangerous question, one that set your body ablaze.

“Y-Yes… So big.” You breathed out, finally being free from his hard grip on your hair. “I’m getting close.” The confession was somehow refreshing.

It meant that you could finally have your sweet release, but only if the man fucking you manically deemed you worthy of having it, that is.

Unfortunately for you, he had other plans in mind.

“Hold it a little bit, baby. I’m not there yet.”

Jungkook’s stamina has always amazed you; the guy could go for hours without taking more than a five minute break, and not even once he complained about it. Whereas you had to take longer breaks in between rounds, and more often than not, you would only last from two to three rounds before calling it a night. Maybe he was more experienced, or perhaps it was his breathtaking physique. Whatever it was, it often came in handy in times like this.

“Jungkook,” You breathed out his name. “I can’t— I’m so close.”

Your walls were clenching on his dick, sucking him in with ease. It was such a marvelous sensation that almost drove the tattooed man over the edge.

“Fuck, you’re making it difficult for me, doll.” Jungkook chuckled breathlessly. “But I want to see your face when you cum.”

Without pulling out, Jeon flipped you over to make you rest on your back on the leather seats of his fancy car.

“Hi, pretty girl.”

Ever since you got into Jungkook’s car, you haven’t been able to properly look at his face for long. It was such a beautiful sight. His disheveled hair sticking to his forehead due to the sweat; his rosy and swollen lips, probably from biting them so much; his lustful glare directed towards you, and his furrowed eyebrows due to how good it felt to be inside of you after so long. Everything about Jeon Jungkook was undeniably attractive, and beyond arousing you, it ignited a warm feeling in your stomach. One that was difficult to mistake for anything else than infatuation.

However, it wasn’t the right time to be thinking about it. Your heart wasn’t connected to your brain, apparently, and so it made you ponder over scenarios that fell into the category of fantasies.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” His question was left unanswered the moment one of his hands flew down to rub your clit. “There you go, princess, make a mess on my cock. You’ve earned it.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. It took a few more thrusts for you to finally let go, crying out his name while your hands reached out to pull him down on you. There was a need installed in the depth of your soul to have him close at all times; to feel his warm skin burning against yours.

“That’s it, beautiful, just let go.” His whispers were like a comforting blanket thrown upon you, encouraging you to move your hips to help him reach his high. “Atta girl, no need for that baby. Let me do the work.”

His pace finally slowed down, while his strong arms wrapped around your waist and his face was buried in the crook of your neck. Jungkook was desperate for his release, but at the same time, he wanted to enjoy the moment a little longer. As a result, his slow pace guided him steadily to his orgasm, thrusting deep inside of you and moving his hips in circular motions to reach every corner of your insides. Touching places no one has ever touched before, and providing you with a sensation that always left you craving more.

A few more thrusts and Jungkook was finally falling apart, groaning against your neck, while his soft lips were bathing your skin with warm kisses. His hot breath was also hitting your flesh, sending shivers through your body; making you harden the grip on him.

“I could stay like this forever.” Jungkook sweetly whispered. “You’re so warm.”

You giggled, scratching the back of his head before slightly pulling away.

“But we need to go, before any of the guys start looking for us.”

The tattooed man groaned annoyed, slowly detaching himself from you.

The rest of your usual routine would often happen in a comfortable silence, this time, however, neither of you could actually stop smiling or stealing kisses from one another. It was sickeningly romantic, and it almost made you wonder what it would be like to be in an actual relationship with the tall boy sitting beside you.

“Just one more kiss.” Jeon begged, lightly pulling you in, to place his soft lips on yours.

“That’s enough.” You stopped him, with a shy grin on your face. “You go first.”

Reluctantly, Jungkook opened the door, ready to get out and act as if he wasn’t making you see stars a few minutes ago. Although, your happy and exciting moment was short lived.

“JK, there you are dude.” Hoseok’s voice rang through your ears, making goosebumps coat your skin in a matter of seconds. “We’ve been looking for— wait, did I interrupt something?”

A knowing small took place on the brown haired man’s face, not before playfully smacking his arm to tease him.

“Uh… I, kinda, yeah.” Jungkook was praying he couldn’t recognize you. But the moment Hoseok tried to look inside his car he quickly closed the door, taking a few steps away from the vehicle. “What’s up? Why were you looking for me?”

The moment their voices became indistinct chatter you could finally release the breath you were subconsciously holding. Your hands slowly relaxed their grip on your skirt, but the anxious feeling settled in your chest, refusing to leave.

“This needs to stop.”

The only problem was that you didn’t know how to make it stop.

The wild shouting from the crown snapped you back into the present. Reminding you of the place you were in, the people you were surrounded by, and the fatal bet you made early in the night.

A bright white Camaro ZL1 was rapidly approaching the finish line, with the roaring of the engine echoing through the street, and making the ground vibrate a little. Fate has dealt its cards and sadly they weren’t on your side. Defeated and tired of experiencing an array of emotions through the long night, you waited at the side of the road for your brother to cross the red line.

Anyone could have predicted it, yet you were hoping the outcome would be different. But alas, you were meant to be taught a lesson tonight; never go behind your brother’s back.

“That’s my boy!” Jimin excitedly yelled while walking towards Taehyung’s tall figure. “I told you the rims were perfect.”

Your brother could only chuckle, shaking hands with his friends before directing his full attention towards you.

“Seems like I won’t be racing next week.” You faked annoyance, although in reality you were sort of relieved. Maybe Hoseok was right after all, and you weren’t ready for that world just yet.

Everything seemed fine so far, no malicious intent, no ulterior motives. No way to predict the chaos that was about to unravel. Perhaps you should have prayed with a little bit more conviction, maybe you should have put more effort into making sure you would win. Otherwise, your downfall could have been prevented.

“So, what do you want as your prize, idiot?” You asked, so confident that nothing bad could happen.

Your brother slowly prepared to say the words that would inevitably change the route of the night.

“It’s very simple, in all honesty.” Taehyung started saying. “I want to ask a quick question.”

“Shoot.” You encouraged him.

Oh, if only you had known.

“I just want to know for how long?” His piercing glance should have given it away. “How long have you been fucking my best friend behind my back?”

#jeon jungkook smut #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jk x reader #jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #bts fanfic #🥢town originals!#🥢.townsmut!

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mopopshop · 2 days

Note

if you aren’t comfortable writing this, ignore it! but would you be able to do emily engstler nsfw head cannons?

I got you twin 🤞🏾

Emily Engstler NSFW Headcannons

she’s a top, like biggest top to ever top all tops

but she likes to switch it up every once in a while

strap game is actually insane

she was never shy about it at first like she knows how to use it and she’s PROUD

as good as she is w strap, fingering is… no words, actually insane how good she is at it

strap is like honestly overwhelming, you can barely breathe after and she’s so cocky about it

backshots warrior

riding and missionary tie for second tho

guiding your hips w her big ass hands (the hand tats too OMLLL)

sucking the strap>>>

loves eye contact

“eyes on me, mamas”

grips your jaw to make SURE u looking

isn’t a crazy talker in bed, she says the right things at the right times

and she’s not big on like degrading nicknames, i feel like the craziest she would go is tease or brat

mamas, princess, pretty girl, baby >>>

certified munch every day all day

loves when you pull her hair

she’s into public sex to an extent, like fingering shes all for but eating you out or vice versa in public is a little too much for her 😭

gets horny out of literally nowhere, like you turn her on sm it’s crazy and you don’t even have to be do anything

The two of you had just been chilling in Emily’s car in front of the Mystics practice gym. You’d been basking in comfortable silence when you felt Emily’s hand grip your thigh, her thumb rubbing it.

Nothing out of the ordinary but slowly you feel her hand moving higher until her hands getting dangerously close to between your legs.

“Baby..” she whines

“Hm?” you turn to her, meeting her eyes. They’re low and she’s smirking, immediately catching on to what she’s insinuating.

Feigning annoyance, you scoff “I know damn well you’re not tryna do that right now”

Her hand continues to rub on your upper thigh as she leans in to speak lowly in your ear “So you don’t wanna…?”

“Emily!” you smack her arm, laughing “You’re quite literally about to walk into practice”

just so down bad for you

her snapchat “my eyes only” is filled w pics of you

she likes to record and take pictures during (entirely with your consent of course)

goes absolutely feral when you send her nudes

she’s private about yalls sex life though, she’s not one to kiss and tell

she doesn’t brag abt y’all’s escapades to her teammates, maybe once in a blue moon to hailey but even that’s pushing it

talks you through it when you cum DEFINITELYYY

“i know mama, you can cum”

“it’s okay baby, cum for me”

“you feelin good?”

“oh you sound so pretty”

“tell me how it feels”

strap game is so crazy it has you walking funny for a while after

foreplay is a must every. single. time.

loves when you dig your nails into her back

the scratches on her back after>>>

changing in the locker room is always entertaining bcs they’re visible to the rest of the team and they stay asking questions

very attentive when it comes to aftercare

like she’ll cuddle with you right after, make sure you get something to drink, shower together and cuddle some more when you’re dressed

she’ll make sure she’s glued to your back and that you feel as much comfort as possible

as much as I enjoyed writing this, this does not mean i’m good at writing smut so if y’all ask i don’t think i’ll do it, not cause i don’t want to but because i srsly suck ass at it😭😭😭

also so upset that i can’t watch the mystics game, can’t find anyone who’s streaming it so just praying that they’ll post highlights after

let’s pray that emily and aaliyah got some playing time 💔🙏🏾

#women’s basketball #ncaa women’s basketball #ncaa #wlw #emily engstler #wnba #emily engstler x reader #emily engstler headcannons #aaliyah edwards #uconn wbb #washington mystics

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calaisreno · 2 days

Text

On My Own

717 words / Prompt: Fall

“Your word against his,” John says.

Sherlock shakes his head. “He’s been sowing doubt into people’s minds for the last twenty-four hours. There’s only one thing he needs to do to complete his game, and that’s to…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence; he has that thousand-yard stare that means he’s working something out in his head.

John knows that look. Sherlock is about to ditch him, go it alone.

“Sherlock?”

His posture changes, minutely. Steeling himself. “Something I need to do.”

“What? Can I help?”

“No. On my own.” He begins to walk away.

“Wait.” This is the beginning, he thinks, the part where Sherlock does something desperate and stupid because he thinks John is too slow to grasp the situation. Or too moral to make the choices Sherlock has narrowed down.

Sherlock stops walking. John can tell from the slant of his shoulders what’s about to happen.

“Don’t.”

Sherlock’s head drops, resigned, and then he raises it again. His posture is that of a man standing on the gallows. “There’s nothing you can do, John.”

“Sherlock. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

He turns and faces John. “I’m a fake. Remember that.”

“No— what? You’ve got a plan and you’re not telling me because you’ve decided there’s only one way out of this and I’m not going to like it. You think I’ll try to stop you, or that I’ll screw things up.” Voice shaking, he clenches his hands into fists at his sides.

Sherlock refuses to meet his gaze. “John, I can’t. Just remember, whatever you see will be fake. You’ll hate me for what I do, the things I say, but you must not stop me.”

He takes shallow breaths. “Does Mycroft know?”

“Yes.”

“You trust him, but you don’t—”

“I trust you. But you can’t know. Not until…” Grimacing, he closes his eyes.

Resignation pushes all the air out of John’s lungs. “How long?”

“I don’t know.”

“Take me with you.”

“You have to stay. Something I need you to do.”

“Anything. Please, Sherlock. I’d do anything for you.”

Sherlock looks down at him, his eyes sad. “Don’t die, John. Whatever you think, stay alive. Trust me. Will you do that for me?”

“Please. Don’t leave me. I can help.”

Sherlock’s eyes are wide, terrified, shiny under the street lights. Bending down quickly, his mouth near John’s ear, he whispers so softly that John isn’t sure he’s heard right. “Wait for me.” Then he kisses John, just a quick press of lips. “Don’t die.”

Straightening, he walks away quickly.

John stares after him.

Sitting in his chair that evening, he replays the events of the day. Over and over, he sees Sherlock on the roof of the hospital, phone to his ear.

He sees him fall, coat flapping. Sees him die.

The bicycle that hit John, stunning him for a moment, until he got up and ran towards the hospital.

There were people, holding him back, pulling him away.

He plays back Sherlock’s words: I’m a fake… tell anyone who will listen to you that I created Moriarty for my own purposes.

No. He will never do that, never deny his friend. Sherlock can’t expect that from him.

It’s a trick. Just a magic trick.

He hardly dares believe it. What would it take to fake a suicide, a fall of four storeys, in a way that would convince anyone who was watching?

He replays the memory, the sound of the impact, the smell of blood. On his own, even with his doctor’s eyes and instincts, even with battlefield experience, he would believe he’d witnessed a suicide.

Whatever you see will be fake.

And he begins to see what he wouldn’t have seen if Sherlock hadn’t said trust me.

Magicians use distraction to do their sleight-of-hand. The bicycle.

Magicians use props. Blood, enough to be convincing.

Magicians have assistants. Sir, you have to let go. Come away now…

The chair opposite him is empty, but he addresses it as if its occupant were there, waiting for him to catch on. “You’d better have a bloody good reason.”

He gets up from his chair, rubbing his eyes, carding his hands through his hair until it stands on end. “And you’d better come back, soon. If you don’t, I’m going to have words with your brother.”

***

Read on AO3

#mayprompts2024 #fall #reichenbach fall day #bbc sherlock

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hippolotamus · 3 days

Text

Who would I be if I didn't come barreling in with queer feelings??? Inspired by this post from my wife @bidisasterevankinard, this morning's therapy session and a few too many listens to Cleopatra by The Lumineers 😘

late for this, late for that | 7x06 coda | 757 words | G

“Not late. Right on time,” Evan sighs, content and sated, turning in his arms so they’re back-to-chest. It allows him to settle into his newly discovered love of being the little spoon. And Tommy’s new found love of indulging Evan.

“Good to know.” He presses a kiss into Evan’s mussed, disheveled curls, chuckling at the light snores his – boyfriend? Date? Guy he’s seeing? – is already making.

If he’s being honest, ‘right on time’ is the furthest thing from what he feels. Evan hasn’t said as much, but Tommy suspects he’s started to question things about himself. About his life in general, past interactions, romances, friendships, crushes. Eventually he’ll likely face one of the biggest, if not the biggest, questions. How could I not know?

As someone who went on a similar journey, he’ll do his best to guide Evan through. He wants to wave the proverbial magic wand to produce easy, matter-of-fact answers and soothe any wounds, but Evan will have to do that part on his own. Eventually it becomes a rewarding experience, making those discoveries, but he knows as well as anyone that it can be a bitch of a road to travel. An often dark pathway loaded with unexpected landmines. Full of monsters that go ‘boo’ at the very worst times, usually just when the dust of the last jumpscare has settled.

Not for the first time – and likely not for the last – the notion makes Tommy wish they could have met earlier. That he could somehow turn back the clock to meet himself earlier so he could be there for Evan. He’s already put himself through the wringer, in therapy and in his own mental torture chamber, about why he lied for so long about who he is. But, as his therapist reminds him over and over again, these things are never truly done. There are often new layers unveiled, triggered by different circumstances. Sometimes big and loud, sometimes ordinary and everyday. Tommy thinks Evan might be a bit of both.

Either way, here he is, wondering how his own life might have been different if he hadn’t denied himself for so long. If he could have been brave like Hen and said ‘this is who I am’. Because it’s not as if he didn’t know. Tommy knew exactly who he was, who he is. He’s known since the first time he kissed CJ, his high school football team’s defensive tackle, behind the bleachers after practice one late summer night. God knows he had been questioning for a hell of a lot longer.

However, he can’t time travel and change things. He can’t give past versions of himself options that didn’t exist. Well, technically they did, but it meant blowing up his entire life and being ostracized. While Hen didn’t have anything to lose, because she was already being isolated by that era of the 118, Tommy did.

He had what he thought were friends, though, really, most of them were alliances. People he accepted as friends for the high cost of burying his identity. Paid for with girlfriends and the occasional male sex worker when he really needed to let go. With living an empty, lonely, fraudulent existence, constantly saying no to the things and experiences he craved. Because saying yes - to ‘just one’ gay club, one pride event, one secret boyfriend willing to be called girlfriend for appearances - meant risking being found out. Meant taking a wrecking ball to the carefully curated macho persona he’d built for protection. Meant having all of his ‘meaningful’ supports and relationships ripped away. It was bad enough that his own parents couldn’t be there for him. He didn’t need the camaraderie of firefighting taken away, too.

Evan snorts and snuffles, pulling Tommy back to the present. He turns in his sleep, somehow burrowing closer as he throws an arm across Tommy’s waist. His mouth is slack and parted, breathing calm and even.

A wave of fondness washes over Tommy as he watches his… Evan sleep, blissfully unaware of all the things tumbling around in his brain. It’s an emotion he hasn’t felt in a while, not like this, but he’s grateful for how naturally it seems to want to return.

Maybe they couldn’t meet earlier or change their histories, save themselves or each other from pain. But they’re here now with their combined battle scars, ready for something, whatever that looks like. And isn’t that better than never? So, perhaps what Evan said was true. Maybe he’s not too late and they’re right on time.

part 2 (Eddie's POV) here

#911 spoilers #bucktommy #tevan #bucktommy fic #hippo writes #coda fic #911 7x06 #tommy kinard #evan buckley #the cleopatra series #christ i'm such a sucker for queer feels

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kausstar · 2 days

Text

LOVER BOY.

⟡ KID x f! reader￨nsfw + sfw content￨wc: 1k > lı|lı|l hey lover — the daughter of eve.

his nights have always been sleepless and miserable— something’s never change, but the fact he spends them with you makes them less lonely.

cw. kissing / making out. no monkey man spoilers. unprotected. creampie cuz i can’t resist. L bomb while you ride him :((. reader and kid are kinda playful and grin a lot during cuz it’s canon. i am not responsible for your media consumption!! black reader in mind but anyone can read! mwah!

𝓴aus. y’all please. i haven’t written anything this long in two months… think i’m losing my touch. * starts crying in corner *

୨୧ FEEDBACK & REBLOGS ARE HEAVY APPRECIATED.

before he meet you, there wasn’t much to his night but loud men snoring and screaming inside of his head. they felt lonely, empty and tiring. the wind outside of the windows were quieter to him because of the menacing memories of his mother pounding against his skull. then, his breathing would pick up, heart would pump too much blood inside and out of it at once, and his eyes wouldn’t dare creek shut.

but now, the bedroom inside of your apartment fell quiet, your warm body wrapped in his didn’t leave him lonely, but something’s still remained the same, like the pounding of his chest and his daring eyes. you notice. you always do whether he’s sitting on the opposite side of the room or laying down next to you. he knew you noticed when he feels the hand that was once laying across his chest, run up it until you get to his bearded face and you run your thumb along his cheek.

your relaxed body doesn’t move a muscle against his—almost as if the movement of your hand was a subconscious decision. and, your touch is affective, leading his breathing to become steady slowly. he hates to keep you up so he’s quick to grab your wrist lightly and bring it to his lips, placing a kiss to it. “sleep,” he whispers, not even completely sure if you can hear him.

“you first,” you mumble, gaining an instant reaction of light laughter from him. he holds your hand close to his heart as your eyes flicker open and you look up towards him. he turns his head and looks down to meet your gaze. the two of you look at each other through the darkness in the room. “you know i can’t,” he whispers. “i’ve seen you,” you grin up at him, teasingly. “for an hour,” he grins back, shooting you a look.

you feel a light touch of his warm hand on your back as he rubs up and down. his scars giving you an extra layer of comfort that it’s him. you lightly sigh from the sensation and defeat. knowing how affective your loving methods can be, you slip your hand from his grip and you run your fingers through the short hairs on the nip of his neck before leaning in the kiss him. it’s soft and tender, but sloppy and sensual. it nearly gets him going until he realizes how late it is and how tired you must be. he slowly steadies the kiss and pulls away. “you sure?” he asks, eyes soft at the looks of you.

you don’t respond at first, only throwing your leg across his hips to straddle him. “i’m sure,” you reassure before connecting your lips back to his in a hungry kiss. his hands don’t hesitate to meet your hips, his scars grazing your skin. you moan into his mouth as your clothed pussy rocks back and forth on his growing bulge. with need, his hands slightly pushed you down onto him, creating more friction between the two of you.

you don’t allow it to last long, stopping your moving hips and removing your mouth from his to mumble out, “take them off.” he moves to take them off, allowing himself to be freed from the fabric. you reach back to touch him, soon after. his hands find their way up your shirt, grazing and taking a hand full of your breast behind it as he groans. you lean into him more and move your hips down to be able to slip him in, but your panties are in the way.

seeing as your hands are a occupied with holding yourself up and angling him where you want him, he aids. pulling his hands from your shirt to move them away from your pussy. he notices how slick you are when you push his tip to your entrance and slowly inch him in further. the both of moan in response to feeling one another, warm breath on each others faces. once he’s snug inside, you sit up enough to be able to rock your hips comfortably but still take him deep.

your hands find home in his hair as you meet his lips and rock your hips into him—drawing his cock inside and out of you, moans slipping from your lips. his arms wrap around your back to bring you closer to his chest, needing you to be closer. your bodies are covered in sweat as your hips grind into him, taking him as deep as you can. his cock blurs your vision slightly and flogs your brain.

meanwhile, he’s suffocating in you. the feeling of your hands through his hair, the sweet scent of your body wash, the taste of your lips, the softness of your skin, the warmth of your pussy, the sounds slipping from lips traveling onto his. he’s damn near overwhelmed, but he knows he wants more—forever even. one of his hand quickly moves from your around your body to your face. “i-i love you,” he mumbles onto your lips. your hips continue their upward and downward movements as you smile against his lips.

“i love you too,” you say after pulling away briefly. “really?” he questions, grinning against your lips, groan slipping from his. “d-don’t ask stupid questions,” you roll your eyes, deepening the kiss in attempts to shut him up. he notices your attempt and only obliges, allowing your tongues to search one another mouths. your focus is now pulled back to your building orgasms that seem to be catching up soon.

your hips move faster, pussy squeezing on him as you get closer. he takes notice to it, feeling himself become closer right behind you. the curve his cock catching a certain spot on your insides that makes you whine out. you disconnect your lips from his as you come, allowing your moans to bounce off the walls. he isn’t far behind before he’s burying his face into your neck, moaning into it as he releases inside of you.

you rock your hips lightly as the two of come down from your highs. as if he can’t get enough, he meets your lips in a small kiss. one hand on his face, you hum into the kiss with satisfaction. “think you can sleep now?” you say, thumb running across his wet lips. “for a little,” he says in response.

 2024 kausstar — ( pinned post ⟡ masterlist )

#౨ৎ signed kaus.#the people voted smut so here it is!#also i just wanna love him forever <3 #he just a broken boy in a life where he needs a woman to love him. i will be her.#dev patel #dev patel x reader #kid x reader #monkey man #monkey man fanfiction #monkey man x reader #dev patel monkey man #monkey man kid x reader #monkey man fandom #monkey man kid

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morganski-19 · 23 hours

Text

The One With Lamenting

Eddie walks up to the apartment completely fine. Cause why wouldn’t he be fine. It’s not like he’s done anything to move this situation further. If there’s a situation at all. Steve isn’t required to like Eddie back just because Eddie likes him. And so what if he walked past him going on a date with a guy that has a shocking resemblance to Eddie. That was perfectly fine. Normal. Allowed.

Eddie is perfectly ok with the fact that Steve has a dating life. Totally really ok with it.

It’s not like Eddie hasn’t been seeing people casually. In dark night club bathrooms and badly light apartments. Not on dates though. He can’t bring himself to go on an actual date, even if it’s been a year since his last relationship ended. Probably more than that now. But every time he sees a guy he’s somewhat interested in, he just can’t get it to the dating part. Always ghosting the people on dating apps or suggesting a quick hookup.

He lets out a dramatic sigh when he opens up his apartment door. Hoping to find some sympathy. Even though he knows he will just be met by sarcastic remarks on how he just needs to go ask the guy out. Like it’s that easy.

But this time, his sigh is covered by the sound of a blender.

“Dude,” Argyle’s voice booms through the apartment. “You made it just in time for fajitas.”

“I could use a fajita right now,” Eddie says as he pushes himself off the door. “What’s in there?” He points to the blender.

“Margaritas,” Nancy answers as she’s pouring it into glasses.

“Give me that.” Eddie grabs the blender out of Nancy’s hand as she finishes pouring the second margarita, finding a straw and sticking it in the blender. Claiming whatever is left as his.

Nancy huffs. “Hello, that was meant for all of us.”

“I just walked past Steve meeting someone for a date.” Eddie explains, now pacing around the kitchen.

“Here we go again,” Argyle whispers to Nancy as he plates up the fajitas.

Eddie continues to pace, trying to get as much alcohol in his mouth as possible. “It’s the same guy he was talking to last week. I know because he showed me his picture. This guy is so similar to me it’s insane. I’ve been spiraling trying to figure out what it means, or to tell him about it, but now they’re on a date and I can’t do anything about it.”

“Well, you could,” Nancy interrupts his spiraling tangent. “You just have to ask him out.”

“But what if he says no? What if he never wants to see me again and then I’ve ruined our entire friendship. And then it’s weird between us, meaning it’s weird between you guys because we live together, and it’s weird between me and Robin because she lives with Steve. And it would be weird between you and Robin because of it being weird with us and now it’s weird between us because I made it weird between you and Robin. Then it’s weird between all six of us because it’s weird between the four of us and it’s all because of me. So not only have I ruined one relationship, but I’ve ruined five.”

“Don’t you mean six,” Argyle asks, trying to keep up. He and Nancy share the same confused expression, not quite sure who Eddie’s talking to or about half the time.

Eddie just brushes him off. “No, I wouldn’t ruin whatever the thing is between you and Jonathan. That can’t be touched by me directly and I have never been more thankful for that.”

Argyle shrugs. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

“Has something changed between you two?” Nancy asks, sipping her drink, and taking a seat at the table.

“Not really,” Argyle sighs. “It was just all of a sudden something shifted between us. He started to be more distant than he normally is, and I don’t know what to think about it.”

Argyle finally makes himself a fajita and shoves it into his mouth. Eddie sits down, a good portion of the leftover margarita in the blender now gone.

“And there was nothing to cause it?”

Eddie groans, mouthful of food. “This is so good man.”

“Thanks. The only thing I can think of is his mom called a few days ago. But she calls all the time, so I don’t know what happened. He’s just been weird ever since.”

“Is that why he’s not here?”

Argyle shrugs. “I guess. Just said he wasn’t up for it tonight, I didn’t want to push.”

“Did something happen with Will, that sometimes makes him distant?”

Eddie perks up. “Who’s Will?”

“Jon’s younger brother,” Argyle explains. “Some stuff happened back when Will was in middle school after their parents got divorced so Jon’s really protective over him. But he’s been doing fine now. I don’t think anything would have changed recently.”

The apartment door opens before Eddie can ask any further questions.

“Nancy,” Robin interrupts their conversation. “You have got to see this guy Steve is going on a date with, it looks so much like-,” she notices Eddie. “Oh, hey Eddie.”

“I already know about this guy,” Eddie mocks while shoving more food in his face.

Robin glares at him. “So you’re drowning yourself with food and alcohol. Great. Also, how dare you guys have fajita night without me.”

Nancy shrugs. “You said you were going to go out, you knew it was fajita night.”

“Yeah, that’s on me,” she pulls out a chair. “I need someone to convince me not to cancel my date.”

Eddie and Argyle share a side glance.

“Why would you cancel it?” Nancy asks.

“Cause I haven’t had a decent date in months. Every time it just doesn’t click, and we never see each other again. Which is fine, I just want something to stick for longer than a night. Is that so wrong?”

Argyle shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s wrong. You’re looking for something more serious, that’s normal.”

“I guess. I just can’t help but feel like something’s wrong with me, that’s why no one ever wants to stick around that long.”

“No,” Nancy assures. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. You just haven’t met the right person yet, and that’s ok.”

Robin’s phone dings. “Oh, she’s here. I’ll see you guys later. Save me some fajitas.”

When Robin closes the door behind her, she opens up her chat with Steve.

Robin: You’re plan of making Eddie jealous is working, he’s currently drinking a blender full of margaritas and stuffing his face with Argyle’s fajitas

Steve: :0

Steve: Their having fajitas without us, how rude

Robin: That’s what I said

Steve: But also, good cause this date is not going well

Robin: You’ve been out for twenty minutes how can it have gone south that fast

Steve: He hasn’t asked me a single question about myself and keep calling me Spence

Steve: Like that’s not even close

Robin: Ew

Robin: You should leave

Steve: Can you give me a fake 911 call

Robin: I would but I’m about to go on my date

Robin: You know who you should call

Robin: Eddie

Steve: That actually might be fun

Eddie’s phone pings. “Shit, Steve needs a fake 911 call to get out of his date. What should I say?”

“That you’re drunk and desperate and he should come back so you guys can finally break the weird tension you have,” Nancy teases.

Argyle snaps his fingers. “Tell him I got so high and ate an entire fried chicken then went into a food coma so bad someone thought I was dead again.”

“Again, that’s happened before?” Eddie stares at Argyle confused.

“I get a really bad case of the munchies. Especially after I visit back home in Cali.”

Nancy winces. “Yeah, I remember that trip. You were out for over eighteen hours.”

Eddie calls Steve.

“Eddie, I’m kind of busy right now.” Steve says through the line. Eddie can hear the voice of his date continuing to talk while Steve’s on the phone.

“Yeah, yeah I know,” Eddie acts. “It’s just, Argyle got this real strong strain of weed and he’s pretty high. He ate an entire fried chicken by himself and then fell asleep. I’m kind of scared, he’s breathing weird and shit, I just need someone else to come sit with me to make sure he’s ok.”

“Oh, that’s sounds bad. I’ll come over. Be over in a bit.” Steve hangs up the phone.

The next morning, Eddie is taking out the trash as Steve is on his way to work.

“Oh Eddie, I just wanted to thank you for getting me out of that date yesterday. Really appreciate it.”

Eddie shrugs. “It’s no problem. Lord knows I’ve been on plenty of bad dates. What was it?”

Steve sighs. “Just kept talking about himself and called me by the wrong name. Like, my name isn’t even that hard. Shows that he just didn’t try.”

“Ugh,” Eddie winces. “That’s the worst. I’m sure you’ll find someone that actually gives enough of a shit to learn your name. Oh wait, hold on.” Eddie quickly drops the trash down the shoot before running back into his apartment. He comes out with a plastic container in his hands. “I sectioned off some of Argyle’s fajitas from last night. Robin wanted us to save her some, but I made sure there was enough for you too. Thought you could have it for lunch or something.”

Steve takes the container with a smile. “Thanks. I love it when Argyle cooks.”

“They were so good, can’t believe I’ve never had them before. Apparently next month are enchiladas.”

“Remind me not to make any plans for that night.”

“Will do.” They stand there in an awkward silence for a minute, just staring at each other. “Well, I don’t want to keep you. Have a good day at work.”

Steve gives him a smile again, one that makes Eddie’s breath catch in his throat. “I will. Thanks to you.” He holds up the container still in his hand. “See you later.”

Eddie nods before heading back into his apartment. Tempted to just open the door again and ask Steve on a date. Do something about this. But can’t. Not yet.

friends au tag list

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or taken off) @slowandsteddie, @annieofhearts, @cacdyke, @ubpd, @captain--low,

@thespaceantwhowrites, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @lunaticparisianlady, @apomaro-mellow,

@dolphincliffs, @dragonmama76, @maggiebug417, @stevesbipanic, @fearieshadow,

@eightpackdiaz, @au79burger @bookworm0690 , @practicallybegging, @potato-of-the-lord,

@autumncrocusandladybug, @estrellami-1

#i have ideas and motivation to write for this again #yippee #morgan's friends au #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things au #friends au #modern au #pre steddie #pre ronance #pre jargyle #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #argyle stranger things #fanfic

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moonstruckme · 2 days

Note

have a bonfire - send a character + a trope (one bed, fake dating, etc.) and I’ll write a drabble

congrats on 5k, mae!! can i request lily with the academic rivals trope? please and thank you! 🤍

Thanks for requesting my love!

Lily Evans x fem!reader ♡ 608 words

“Now,” Professor Trelawney’s voice is low and grandiose, her hands gesturing seemingly aimlessly around the smoke emanating from her candlestick, “tell me, what do you see?”

Your hand goes up, but Trelawney’s eyes go elsewhere. You look to your left, and Lily’s hand is also raised high.

“Miss Evans?”

Lily brushes a piece of hair behind her ear. “It’s rising in a spiral,” she says, “which symbolizes change and new beginnings.”

Trelawney’s mouth flattens into a pitying line, and slender brows come down over Lily’s green eyes as your professor turns to you. “What do you see?”

“It looks like there’s a shape in the smoke.” You squint a little, making a show of concentration. “I can’t quite make it out, but it looks like maybe…some sort of animal?”

“Yes!” The older woman’s eyes light up. “Yes, it appears to be the crow! A bad omen.” You see Lily roll her eyes, and you pinch your lips shut to contain a smile. “Be cautious as you proceed through the week, children,” Trelawney says as you all start to grab your bags. “There are dreadful tidings on the wind!”

“That is such bullocks,” Lily rants once you’re in the corridor, her bag slung over one shoulder. “How could you possibly see a shape in that mess? I didn’t see anything.”

“Me neither,” you say smugly, grinning when she looks towards you, brows again descending over those fierce eyes of hers. “It’s Trelawney,” you laugh. “It’s not about what’s there, it’s about what she wants to be there. And she always wants shapes.”

“My god.” Lily shakes her head. Her lips are pursed in that way they get when she’s trying not to smile. “You’re awful.”

“Oh, come on.” You bump her hip with yours, the fabric of her skirt brushing your thigh. “You don’t take that class any more seriously than I do.”

She rolls her eyes. “No, but I try to have some measure of—of integrity.”

Your laugh comes out breathy with surprise. “Excuse me!” Lily smiles, and you take her by the arm, swinging the both of you around so her back is against the wall and your chest is a few inches from hers. “What are you trying to say about me, Evans?”

“Nothing,” she laughs, a faint blush rising to her freckled cheeks. “Only that some of us prefer to get top marks with our morals intact—” Your mouth falls open, incredulous, and she takes your face between her hands, kissing the tip of your nose with a cloying sweetness. “—and others—” She giggles as you chase her despite her hold on your face, nipping at her bottom lip. “—are more willing to compromise theirs.”

You grin. “Generous of you to assume I had any to begin with.”

“Oh, hush.” Lily kisses you one more time, soft and sweet, and uses the diversion of your weakening knees to slip from between you and the wall. “Come on, we’re going to be late for class.”

You scoff but let her take your hand, pulling you down the now empty corridor. “I suppose I shouldn’t care, seeing as I’ve already compromised my morals.”

“Mm, but I think you can be salvaged yet.” You know by your girlfriend’s grin what she’s going to say, and your nose wrinkles in anticipation. “I’m going to get higher marks than you anyway, love. There’s no need for these underhanded tactics.”

Her smile widens when you narrow your eyes at her, squeezing her fingers between yours in challenge. “Oh, you’d like it if I gave up, wouldn’t you? Sorry, no luck this time. I’m going to beat your ass fair in square.”

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coloursflyaway · 22 hours

Text

Good Enough

Pairing: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland

Rating: T

Word Count: 4.000

Read on AO3

So, Edwin is in love with him.

Edwin loves him, and Charles genuinely never even considered the possibility of this, of them, before.

It might be because, back when he was still alive, his dad would have beaten the notion right out of him, but then again, his dad has been wrong about most things in his life, so fuck him.

So, Edwin is in love with him.

It’s… quite flattering, actually. To think that Edwin, who is beautiful and intelligent and educated, who can recite his favourite Keats poem by heart just as easily as tell you his favourite Mozart aria (it’s Konstanze, dich wiederzusehen from Die Entführung aus dem Serail, Edwin told him that, years ago), who knows spells and can read ancient Aramaic, who is the kindest, most brilliant person Charles has ever known, would love him.

Now, Charles knows that he is easy enough on the eyes, good with words and people, and has one hell of a swing if you give him a cricket bat, but the only reason he knows any Mozart aria is because Edwin showed them to him.

The only reason he knows Keats’ poetry is because Edwin would read them to him on slow, warm summer nights in the early 2000s.

The only reason he is here, is because Edwin let him stay.

So, it’s special, having someone like Edwin love him.

It’s fucking terrifying.

Because Charles is now holding the heart of the person he loves most in the world, and it’s a bigger responsibility than any he has ever taken on before.

He can’t fuck this up.

The thing is that nothing changes between them at all.

Charles isn’t sure if he expected it to, but what he is relatively certain about is that it most likely should. After all, it was an unexpected revelation, probably to both of them, definitely a shift in their relationship.

And yet, when Charles looks at Edwin, who is reading a novel whose name he cannot make out, curled up on the couch they have gotten for Crystal (and sometimes Jenny), he doesn’t feel different at all.

It’s still Edwin, his best mate, the boy that read to him when he was dying so he wouldn’t have to do it alone, who tries to smile whenever Charles shows him a new song he has fallen in love with, and occasionally fails hilariously at, who Charles would protect with his life and his soul and his cricket bat, no matter how high the stakes.

I love you the most, Charles thinks to himself, and smiles, because nothing about that has changed, either.

He has told Edwin that they would have forever to figure out the rest, and it’s the truth, technically speaking.

However, Charles doesn’t, because it’s Edwin and he has given Charles his heart and he doesn’t deserve to wait that long for an answer. It would be cruel in a way Charles cannot comprehend, and if there is anyone who doesn’t deserve more cruelty in their existence, it’s Edwin Payne.

The only problem with that fact is that Charles doesn’t know the answer.

He’s been thinking about it a lot, but the thing is, he’s never been in love before.

So he doesn’t really know what to compare his feelings for Edwin to, because, of course, they are greater than for anyone else, of course, Charles would sacrifice anything and anyone for Edwin, especially himself, of course, making Edwin smile is his favourite part of any day.

Because he loves Edwin, everything about him.

But is he, could he be, in love with Edwin?

Charles doesn’t know, nor does he know how to find out. It’s not like he hasn’t tried, but every novel he has paged through, every silly romcom he has watched, has been talking about butterflies in someone’s stomach, of seeing them in some new, golden light, of hearing violins playing when they speak, and Charles very much doubts that Edwin feels any of those things for him.

Otherwise he wouldn’t raise his eyebrows like that when he thinks Charles is being an insufferable little prick, he wouldn’t roll his eyes and tell him, “I know, Charles, you have told me a thousand times before”, whenever Charles brings up how much he wishes he could still taste things, or groan whenever Charles attempts to convince him to just try and let him put on some eyeliner.

(It’s just that Edwin would look so pretty like that, some kohl to bring out the warmth of his eyes, making them stand out even more than they do anyway.)

So all this talk of violins and sparkles and the need to give someone roses, if Edwin doesn’t feel that when he says he is love with Charles, then it’s pointless to consider, and anyway, those books and films describe people who have just met, not those who have known each other for twice as long as they were alive.

Maybe if he had just met Edwin, he would be hearing violins, Charles definitely thinks it’s possible.

Especially the violins in Konstanze, dich wiederzusehen.

“I just need some time alone”, Crystal says, putting on her jacket, while already opening the door. “And I am aware that that is a novel concept for the two of you, since you are basically attached at the hip, but for me, an alive human being, it’s really important to occasionally have a second of peace between almost dying and whatever we will have going on next.”

She stops to put on her shoes, almost falling over in the process, and Charles and Edwin share a look, a smile, and Charles thinks, I love you the most.

“Don’t follow me”, Crystal tells them, especially Charles, and it’s kind of cute, actually. “I’m going to get the biggest frappuchino Starbucks is legally allowed to serve me and I will not tolerate any ghostly company while doing that.”

Charles holds up his hands, still grinning, indicating his surrender in a battle he wasn’t aware they were fighting, and Crystal gives him a single nod before she walks out.

“So”, Charles starts, and turns around to face Edwin, who is already looking back, “what do we think this frappuchino she was talking about, is?”

Actually, there is one thing that changes between them after all.

It’s subtle, at least at first, but looking back, Charles isn’t quite sure how he managed to miss it for the few weeks that have passed. Maybe it was the shock of almost being forced to move on to the afterlife, the chaos of getting Crystal and Jenny settled in London, the fact that it seems to increase only slowly, incrementally.

Edwin has never been a physically affectionate person, completely contrary to how Charles is.

If it had been up to him alone, he would have hugged Edwin much more often, would have leant against him when they were looking through a book together, would have held hands to keep them from losing each other when things got hectic. But it wasn’t, and that was fine, so it was occasional touches instead, a hand on Edwin’s upper arm, his back, ruffling his perfect hair when he was doing something kind of dumb, kind of cute.

(That one always made him duck his head and smile, glance up at Charles through his lashes and allow a second to pass before he started fixing his hair again.)

Now, however, it’s… it’s not getting better, because there was nothing wrong with it in the first place, Edwin’s aversion to physical affection, but it is changing now.

It’s less that he initiates it, more than he allows it to happen more frequently. Sitting down next to Charles on the sofa instead of taking the armchair, allowing Charles’ hand to linger on his arm for a moment longer than expected, letting their shoulders brush when walking.

He’s not asking to be touched, not really, but something about it still makes Charles irrationally happy as soon as he catches onto it. Because Edwin deserves all the affection the world can offer, and Charles will always be here to give it to him.

So he reaches out in the morning, when the sun has just started to rise, and puts his hand on the curve of Edwin’s shoulder, right where it meets his neck, and points out that the clouds are turning the most beautiful pink. He throws his legs across Edwin’s lap when they settle down on the sofa at night, a book in Edwin’s hands, the tablet Crystal made him buy in Charles’. He pushes his fingers through Edwin’s hair, not to ruffle it, but just to pretend he can feel its softness against his skin.

It makes Edwin duck his head again, give Charles a little smile when looking up, and Charles thinks, I love you the most.

And thinks, I want to love you the most in every way you will have me.

“Jenny, I have a question”, Charles starts as soon as he has phased through the walls of her new butcher shop. It’s to her credit that she hardly reacts; the first time he had done that, she had thrown a meat cleaver right through his head. “What do you know about love?”

Instead of a knife, Jenny just throws him a weary look, an eyebrow elegantly arched. It makes Charles think of being scolded by the headmistress, a sensation that should be much more unpleasant than it is.

“Nothing”, Jenny answers and brings her cleaver down with a dull thud, separating flesh from bone, before looking up at Charles again. “No one ever knows anything about love and if they try to tell you otherwise, they are lying.”

There is a certain sense of finality in her voice and Charles knows he has been dismissed, no detention this time, but don’t dare to push it.

“Great”, he mutters, more to himself than to Jenny, “that doesn’t help me at all.”

“You should look at this, Charles”, Edwin says and turns the book towards him.

It’s late at night, Crystal having long since gone home and they are sat on the sofa, shoulders touching while they do their research. A new case has come up, and Edwin is trying to learn more about ancient Celtic runes, while Charles is pouring over a map of London’s underground; now, he looks up and at the page Edwin is showing him.

“We could add this to your bat”, Edwin explains, “it’s a rune for physical strength. Supposedly, it doubles whatever force you put into a hit.”

“Edwin, mate, are you trying to tell me I need help with hitting people?”

Charles is grinning, obviously teasing, and Edwin just scoffs, rolls his eyes.

And that is what Charles means; this isn’t birdsong and candle light, this is just how they always have been. This is what makes them them, even.

“Charles, do be serious”, Edwin replies, but there is affection in his voice, there is love. “I am perfectly aware that you can hit things very well, but that doesn’t mean that hitting them even better wouldn’t be an advantage.”

“I know. This is brills”, Charles concedes, and on a whim, nothing more than that, presses a quick kiss to Edwin’s cheek.

For a moment, he almost expects Edwin to admonish him, because this isn’t exactly something that they do, but instead he stares at him, before he ducks his head; Charles isn’t sure how he knows this, but if Edwin could, he would be blushing.

And it does something to Charles’ head, the thought that he would be able to make Edwin blush. It makes him stop dead in his tracks, look at Edwin not like he is seeing him for the first time, but like he could be looking at him for the rest of his existence and not get bored of it.

“Do you wanna do the honours of carving it? Since you were the one who found the thing?”, he asks just to say something, aware that his voice sounds slightly off, and thinks, I love you the most. I love you the most. I love you the most.

“Very well done, Charles”, Edwin tells him and clasps a long-fingered hand on Charles’ shoulder, peering down at the leprechaun he knocked out clean with his bat a few seconds before.

The rune really makes it pack a punch.

“I don’t think this will pose any further problems”, Edwin continues even as he crouches down to examine the passed-out form crumpled on the ground. He prods at it gently.

“It fucking better”, Charles replies, resisting the urge to pull Edwin away from the leprechaun, just in case that touching it might have some kind of magical side effect. “And if not, I’ll punch it right back out. I’ve got an Edwin Payne-improved bat after all, it won’t stand a chance.”

Just for good measure, he twirls the bat around once, twice.

This has always been one of his favourite parts of the job, the simple pleasure of knocking someone out before they get the chance to hurt his friends.

Edwin looks up at him from where he is crouching, and Charles grins at him, metaphorical adrenaline running through his non-existent veins still. He would punch out a bear if Edwin asked it of him.

Before he can say anything else, though, Crystal clears her throat from behind him, sounding decidedly less impressed.

“That’s really cool, yeah. New bat, I get it”, she says, walking around Charles so she, too, can see the unconscious leprechaun. “But you do remember that we actually wanted to talk to him, right?”

They get to talk to the leprechaun in the end, who turns out to be about as obnoxious as expected, but does admit to stealing the heirloom they were looking for for his pot of gold.

He even gives it back, but only after Charles has started twirling his bat again.

“And another satisfied customer”, Charles comments as they return to the agency, flinging his backpack into the corner.

“Client, you mean”, Edwin corrects, but still smiles at him, and pats the space next to him as soon as he sits down on the sofa. Charles flings himself down without a second thought, legs landing somewhere across Edwin’s laps, one of his hands settling on Charles’ ankles.

This is new, at least to some extent, and Charles loves it, the feeling of Edwin’s fingers on him. It feels right, somehow.

I just really love you the most, he thinks.

“Yeah, whatever”, he concedes and looks over at Crystal, who is watching them with something in her eyes that Charles cannot quite place. Not bad, per se, just…. Strange. “Doesn’t sound that good though, does it? And anyway, the most important thing is that they’re satisfied, right? Passed on right to the afterlife, no worries keeping them here any longer.”

“As if it’s only worries that could keep one here”, Edwin replies, his tone as dry as the desert, but making Charles laugh anyway. “We should be the best example for that.”

“You know what I mean!”, he shoots back, “It isn’t like with us, is it? Don’t think that the client was kept back by meeting the love of their life, were they now?”

It spills from his lips like nothing, without Charles thinking about it for a single second.

He’s still laughing, but Edwin’s fingers have stopped where they were gently stroking across the arch of his foot, and then Charles realises it, and for the first time, hears silence.

For the first time since they got back from Hell, they part when Crystal leaves.

The conversation had been stilted after Charles’...slip up? blunder? confession? and although it had been obvious that all three of them had been trying, it had been impossible to get things back on track.

So, Charles leaves with Crystal, telling Edwin he will walk her home, although that is something he has never done before, and Crystal lets him, although he is fairly certain she wouldn’t under normal circumstances.

She doesn’t need anyone protecting her from the city she grew up in after all.

“How do you know you’re in love with someone?”, Charles asks after they have walked in silence for a few minutes. He can’t think of a way to cushion the question, how to make it less awkward to ask, so he doesn’t bother with it at all.

“This is about Edwin?”, she asks, seemingly to clarify, and Charles nods mutely, not looking up at her. “I’m not sure. Especially not when it comes to the two of you. For Edwin, I could have seen from miles away that he was in love with you, even if he hadn’t reacted like he did when we first met. For you… you love him, anyone with eyes could see that, but if you’re in love with him, I think you have to figure that out yourself.”

“Do you know how it feels, though? Being in love?”, he asks, just in case Crystal can at least tell him that.

“I’m not sure”, she answers after a moment, then links their arms together, pulling Charles closer. “I think that’s different for everyone. But I’m sure you’ll be able to figure out what it feels like to you if you let yourself.”

He walks Crystal home, but when she asks if he wants to stay, Charles just shakes his head.

Edwin is back at the agency, and Charles isn’t sure exactly in which state, what he is thinking, and Charles cannot allow that. At least not for long.

What he does, though, is taking a little detour to the park not too far from their building.

It’s the first time he really pays it any mind, even if it’s most likely not the first time he’s been there, but now, Charles lays down on the grass, looking up at the night sky.

London is too bright for him to see many stars, but there’s a few of them; Edwin would surely be able to point out a constellation or two.

And that’s the thing, isn’t it.

Edwin isn’t here, and yet he is with Charles anyway, always, in every moment of his existence.

Sighing, he scrubs a hand down his face. There’s no way around it, it has to be now, and it has to be the right answer, the one he truly means, because Edwin deserves nothing but that.

No false hope, and no heartbreak that might be taken back along the line.

So, he thinks of Edwin, of his elegant hands and the swagger in his walk when he feels confident, of the colour of his hair and of his eyes, of the curves and slopes and sharp cuts of his face.

He loves that face, has seen it with every possible expression painted across of it, and still loves it.

The stars above are dim and partly hidden behind the clouds, so Charles lets his eyes slip shut, and imagines coming home to the agency and taking Edwin’s hands in his.

They would be just a little smaller than his own, his fingers slender and yet so capable, and if he could still feel, Charles is convinced they would feel cool against his skin.

He imagines pulling Edwin close and holding him like he has always wanted to, burying his face against the side of Edwin’s neck and pretending he can breathe in his scent. Having Edwin sneak his arms around Charles’ waist and cling to the back of his jacket, like he doesn’t want to let go again.

In his imagination, it feels a little like the hug they shared after being granted asylum on Earth, but it would be entirely different, because it wouldn’t be out of relief.

Instead, it would be just them, embracing to feel the other close.

And he thinks of pulling back from the hug, seeing Edwin smile and kissing the curve of his lips, nipping at them until he can make Edwin laugh and teasing his mouth open to lick into it.

It would be like kissing Crystal, kind of, only that-

Only that it wouldn’t be like that at all.

He runs back to the agency, as fast as his spectral feet can carry him.

Edwin is sitting right where he left him, almost like he hadn’t moved an inch since Charles walked out of the door, and he hopes to all deities he can think of that it isn’t so; knows, at the same time, that it is.

“Hi”, Charles greets, because he doesn’t know what else to say, and Edwin nods and gives him a smile, brittle and unsure and hopeful, all at once.

“Hello, Charles. Did Crystal get home safe?”, he asks, and it’s so painfully polite it makes Charles cringe.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure, of course she did”, he responds, trying to figure out how to begin saying what he needs Edwin to know, but Edwin beats him to it.

“Did you mean it?”, Edwin asks, breathes out the question like he still has lungs to do so, and it’s in that moment that Charles is more certain of his answer than anything else he has ever thought, because Edwin sounds small, sounds vulnerable and breakable and yet so fucking hopeful, and Charles wants to pick him up and cradle him against his chest and never let go again.

“Yes”, he says, and it’s sunrise and violins and bouquets of roses all at once, it’s a single word that changes the world around them. “Kind of. Let me explain.”

And Edwin nods, sits back with his hands in his lap and all Charles can think about is that those same hands belong holding a book, resting on the top of Charles’ legs, which should be flung carelessly across Edwin’s lap, just because Charles wants to be near him.

“You’re the love of my life, no matter what”, he starts, crouching down in front of Edwin so he can take his hands; they look so lost. “You have been for decades. I love you the most of anything in the world. I will always love you the most. Every time I look at you, it’s just that on repeat in my head. I love you the most.”

He ducks his head, laughing softly, because it sounds silly now that he says it out-loud, but when he looks back up, there are tears brimming in Edwin’s eyes, making them shine even brighter.

His lips are parted and for just a moment, Charles thinks about kissing them.

“And you know, I still can’t say that I am in love with you back, because you don’t deserve a lie, but what I can say, what I can promise you, is that I could fall in love with you. And that I want to. More than anything.”

A single tear rolls down Edwin’s cheek, glistening in the dim light, and Charles looks at him, and thinks, I do. I am. I love you the most.

“Could that be enough?”, he asks, squeezing Edwin’s hands in his. “At least for the start?”

And Edwin nods so frantically that more tears spill over, wetting his face, and Charles can’t help but laugh; how strange to think that making Edwin cry for once is not his biggest fear, but something that fills his heart with joy to the point of bursting.

“Okay. Brills, that’s-”, he replies, and can’t keep himself from smiling so wide it would hurt if he was still alive. “So, um. Can I kiss you? I really want to kiss you right now.”

Again, Edwin nods, and he is smiling, too, looks so happy that Charles thinks heaven must be overrated, because nothing in the whole of existence could compare to this.

He thinks of the scene he pictured in the park of holding Edwin close and how much in pales in comparison to this, to holding Edwin’s hands and watching him glow with love and hope and warmth.

And leans in to find out if the same is true for kissing him.

(It is.)

#dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #dbd #edwin payne #edwin paine #charles rowland #painland #payneland #paynland #chedwin #charles x edwin #edwin x charles #i have written 10k for them now it has been 4 days since i watched the show #what is happening

104 notes · View notes

charlies-diary-entries · 10 hours

Note

Hi!! Your metamorphmagus!reader with poly marauders was so cute I can’t help but ask for more! Anything works but if you need a more specific request could you do one where they’re just pranking Slytherin with reader? Or a little aftermath of the confession and where they go from there?

Your choice ofc and I might just be your biggest fan 💗☝️

ugh lovey, im your biggest fan! trust darling, i will write a prank fic soon enough, but this was on my mind and i really wanted to get it out of my head and into words. hope you enjoy <3

Ever since you'd all confessed to each other, the boys had been loving on you almost non-stop. Walking you to and from class, study dates in the library, dates down in Hogsmeade, cuddle piles in their room, the Gryffindor common room, hell, sometimes James would skip class just to wrap his arms around you and hang off of your shoulders all day long.

All that time together gave them a plethora of opportunities to better understand you and your abilities. It thrilled each of them to know you better, to learn your likes and dislikes, but they were particularly fond of the way your magic always gave you away.

You, however, found it to be ridiculously embarrassing.

Memories and syrupy sweet thoughts of your boys chased around your head as you finished up their gifts, your 3-month anniversary coming up. God, to think it had already been that long!

It was a week after your shared confession (which had ended in maybe the best cuddles of your life and many very, very sweet kisses) as you walked to Herbology. Remus had just caught you in the hall before you went outside and pressed a kiss to your cheek, wishing you a good day. You were still adjusting to the boys' heightened presence in your life. The suddenness of it all, it felt... unreal. But you were happy. So, very happy.

"Hey! Gorgeous!"

Sirius's shout broke your reverie and you glanced up to find him bounding towards you, grin stretched ear to ear.

"Hey Siri," you smiled back at him, "What's up?"

"Nothin much. Love the pink by the way, why'd you change it?"

You could feel your face flush as your hair shifted back to it's natural color, Sirius pressing a loving kiss to your temple as his arm snaked around your waist.

"It's-" You had to consciously keep your hair natural, the tips of your hair settling to a nice pink. It was the best you could manage. "Well, I didn't really mean to, it just- Well, Remus he- he kissed me. A minute ago, in the hall."

Sirius's brow furrowed as you both continued to walk. "What's that got to do with your hair, Dove?"

"It just- It changes. Sometimes." You had a horrible, sinking feeling that Sirius would use this information completely to his advantage and you'd never get away with anything again. The pink continued to spread throughout your hair as Sirius pulled you both to a stop.

He brought a hand to your hair, fascinated as he played with it, watching the color creep up to your roots. His smile turned scary mischievous as he brushed a thumb over your cheek, before continuing to stroke your hair.

"Dove, is it that you're flustered?"

You stuttered and looked to the ground as Sirius laughed, guiding your gaze back to him before he kissed you. You sighed as your eyes fluttered closed, reaching up to place your own hand on his cheek.

You both had soft smiles as you pulled apart, foreheads resting against each others. Your hair was almost completely normal again when Sirius spoke.

"Oh, you're so done, darling."

He grinned, mischievous and daring as he leaned near your ear.

"Now I know your secrets, I think I quite like the color pink on you."

You squeaked as he pinched your side, pushing you towards the greenhouse. You looked back to him waving his fingers at you, sly and with no kind intention at all. You huffed, turning and entering Herbology.

You got several compliments on your hot pink hair that class period.

You smiled to yourself, flushed with embarrassment thinking of that first time your magic had told on you. Sirius had since used it quite to his advantage, doing his best to get your hair to turn outrageous colors, loving the way it looked on you.

(Anytime a professor dared to think of dress coding you, he would jump in and take the blame for it every time. He would probably do just about anything for you, now that you thought about it.)

That first time was sweet, and it certainly wasn't the only time either. Getting used to having the boys around meant getting used to them knowing your tells; This meant more than just the sweet, romantic ones.

You sat, curled up and tucked away in some very far corner of the library, hands cupped around your ears as tears streaked down your face. The darkness and quiet were certainly helping, but panic gripped tightly at your lungs and seeped your air away from you.

It was torture.

Familiar torture, but torture all the same.

Eventually, the panic subsided and your tears melted away. With your breath finally returned to you, you swiped a hand down your shifting face to ensure you were put together, then shuffled off to the rest of your day. The attack irked you, certainly, but you weren't about to let something so infinitesimal derail your day.

Slipping into your potions seat, James perked up and turned to you. He slipped his arms around your waist and tugged you into his chest, humming and careless of the other students around you. He shoved his face into your neck and you sighed, stroking his hand as it rested on your tummy.

"How've you been today James?"

"Alright," he spoke, muffled into your skin, "S'been alright. Missed you."

You rolled your eyes, a small smile making it's way to your lips. You grabbed the hand you'd been stroking as you pulled away from him, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.

"Well, good thing you've got me now then, isn't it?"

"What's happened to you, Dove?"

The sudden concern pouring off of James as he met your eyes was unexpected and you awkwardly smiled, trying to put the past hour or so before this moment to the very back of your mind. (It did not work.)

"What d'you mean Jamie?"

"Your eyes-" he cupped your cheek, leaning in to get a better look. "They're blue. They're all ocean-y and iridescent."

Your eyebrow arched up as he frowned. He began to rub your cheeks with his thumbs.

"Dove, that happens when you've been crying."

Your jaw dropped in a quiet "oh". Had you really cried around your boys enough for them to discover another quirk of yours? You hadn't even known that happened. Really, something so simple as your eye color? You looked away, turning into James's palm and hiding your face in it, willing your eyes normal again.

"Didn't realize that had happened. Sorry."

"What do you have to apologize for Dove?"

He glanced around to ensure there were no snooping students or god forbid, the professor, before kissing you and pulling you into his arms fully. Your eyes welled again at the feeling as you returned the hug.

"It's alright Dovey. Let me hold you for a minute right now, and then the second potions is over, we skip the rest of the day so we can cuddle up in my room, alright?"

You giggled, "We can't just skip cause I'm a bit upset."

At this James scoffed. "As far as I'm concerned, the whole entire world should stop if your shoelace so much as comes untied. Everyone ought to kneel down and tie it for you, then give you anything you want."

This made you laugh more, a few tears streaking down your cheeks as James smiled and held you tighter.

"There you are, lovey."

Truly, you got all warm and fuzzy every time the boys pointed yourself out to you. That they cared to notice, that they cared to let you know, that they loved every little magical quirk so much, it made your heart pool with adoration for the boys.

Despite James's feelings on the matter, you felt the world should bow down to them. They'd given you so much love, made you feel so important and normal, it felt there was no possible way to thank them sometimes.

No possible way to love them back the way they loved you.

The bittersweet thought was chased away as the door to the boy's dorm creaked open and you rushed to finish off the very last bow on the presents for your darlings.

"Hey Dove, what're you doin' here?"

Remus draped his body over yours from behind, arms snaking around yours and trapping you into his chest. You laughed as he smushed his face into your temple, taking in a deep breath and then letting out a very long sigh.

"Nothing much. Finishing off a surprise for you all."

"A surprise?"

At this, he lifted his head to see the boxes placed amongst his, Sirius, and James's beds, all done up with a bow and a card each, then one card for all three of them placed on Remus's desk. He smiled, turning back into your neck and leaving a warm kiss there.

"This is lovely, but you didn't have to Dove. Thought we'd spend the anniversary just snuggling and drinking and eating and such. Celebrate each other."

At this he nipped your skin and it sent you into a short tizzy of giggles. While you laughed, he turned you around in his arms and began to place butterfly kisses around your entire face.

"I- I know, Remus. Just felt like doing something- stop!- something nice!"

You fought through your giggles as he pulled back to smile at you, placing one more heated kiss to your lips.

"Well, thank you Dove."

Another kiss, his hands tightening around your waist as he guided you towards his bed.

"Really, you're so wonderful, what are we to do with you?"

You laughed as he pushed you down onto the sheets, continuing to press hot kisses to your lips, then your jaw, then slowly down your neck. You breath hitched as he nipped at the bottom of your neck, beginning to kiss and suck at the skin just below the collar of your shirt.

"R-Rem-"

"Hurry up Sirius, I haven't seen either of them all day and I-"

And all of a sudden James rushed into the room, stopping short at the sight in front of him. A very pretty flush began to crawl up his neck as he stared at you, and then Remus, and then you, and then Remus as he pressed another kiss to your lips.

"What's finally got you quiet- Oh."

Sirius followed after him, a smirk growing on his face.

"Starting the festivities without us I see."

You could feel your own face grow warm as Remus sat beside you, tugging you up so you could lay on his chest between his legs.

"S'not my fault you two are slow-pokes."

With this, Remus pressed yet another kiss to your cheek, and you could've sworn you felt steam escape your ears as he began to travel lower again. Sirius barked out a laugh as this happened, noting the very real and very adorable steam that actually shot out from the sides of your face.

"Guess we've got to make up for lost time, huh?"

With that, Sirius pressed a kiss to James's cheek and slapped his ass before bouncing over to you and Remus, eager to participate. James (now sufficiently red in the face and very flustered) was quick to follow.

Your presents were easily forgotten in the way the boys completely filled your space and your heart and your mind. Their love was so overwhelming it left almost no room for anything else.

You wouldn't have it any other way.

apologies if anythings a little confusing, i'm finishing this off with a bit of alcohol in my system lol!! hope you enjoyed lovely! sorry it took so long! <3

#poly!marauders x you #marauders x reader #poly!marauders x reader #marauders reader insert #wolfstar x reader #sirius black x reader #james potter x reader #remus lupin x reader

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mingtinysworld · 2 days

Text

Eternal Kisses

Pairing: choi jongho x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, comfort, established relationship

Word count: 825

A/n: this is super short but i thought id write something cute and sweet for Jongho hehe. I feel like he would be suchhh a comforting bf. And just kind of a pillar in a relationship ykwim?

Networks: @newworldnet

Jongho carefully unlocks the hotel door with his keycard, trying to be quiet as to not wake you. His meeting went much later than he anticipated and he didn’t get to see you when he promised he would. He felt sad that he let you down once again, making plans and having them not work out constantly.

He walks into the room and sees you sleeping peacefully. Your face is squished into the pillow, creating an adorable pout. He wants to poke your soft cheek but he resists, letting you sleep instead. He changes into his pajamas and tries to quietly get under the covers, next to your warm body.

“Mmh hi Jongie.” You mumble sleepily.

“Hi love, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to wake you.” He gives you a soft kiss, sending tingles across your whole body.

“That’s ok, I’m just happy to see you.” You nuzzle into Jongho’s neck and inhale his comforting scent. After a few moments you can feel his shoulders shaking. You look up and see that he’s laughing.

“What are you laughing at?” You ask with a pout, brows scrunched cutely.

“I just can’t believe how utterly cute you are baby. I don’t think you’re real.” He expresses.

You also let out a laugh and blush profusely. “You’re right, I’m not real. I’m actually made up of your imagination.” Deciding to play along, you give him a quick kiss on the lips. His eyes widen in surprise and he lets out an adorable giggle.

“I’m not real, so that means you can’t feel it right?” You continue to peck all over his face, smiling cheekily. Jongho explodes into a fit of giggles, completely entertained by your shenanigans. He grabs your hands and pulls you off of him and returns your attack of kisses. He kisses every inch of your face until your stomach hurts from laughter.

“Did you get your assignments done today baby? I know you were all stressed out about them.” He asks in a hushed tone.

You groan in frustration, being reminded about your countless amounts of schoolwork. “Almost but not quite. It’s insane, I keep working and working, but I never end up finishing them all.”

He looks on with empathizing eyes, relating to your frustration. Jongho is also in school currently, knowing exactly what you’re going through. “I know it’s hard, but you’re also completely capable, I know it. And I’m also here to help you. Nothing is difficult for my babygirl.” He squeezes you and you let out a spluttering gasp.

“Jongho! Don’t squish me to death!!” He laughs loudly and nudges his nose into you like a puppy.

You shake your head and roll your eyes, failing to hide your loving smile. You’re forever grateful to Jongho for being there for you always, helping you through anything and everything.

"Ugh I missed you baby. I hate how busy you are." You speak in a hushed tone. Jongho grabs your hand in his and leaves a sweet kiss to your palm while speaking softly.

"I know baby. I wish I could just stay here with you all the time. But you know how much I love you, right? I could cuddle with you for the rest of my life." He looks at you with so much love, his eyes displaying the unconditional affection saved just for you.

You wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face into his chest, and inhale deeply. His fresh body soap scent washes over you, soothing all your senses. As you melt into him he takes the opportunity to run his hand through your hair, brushing through the strands gently.

“Mmm you’re so comfy Jongie.” You murmur drowsily. He chuckles softly and holds you even closer. “Oh am I?” He asks with a fond smile.

You nod against his chest and let out a content exhale. “Will you tell me about your day?” You request.

“Of course sweetheart.” He shifts slightly to move you on top of him, making you lay your head against his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat. “Today was kind of lame to be honest. The meeting was sooo long, I was actually secretly texting San in the middle of it, about ready to go insane. They were talking about marketing strategies and I just tuned them out.”

You let out a grunt of acknowledgement, letting him know you’re listening. However, the steady hum of his sweet tone was slowly lulling you to sleep, and his voice seemed further away the longer he talked. You let out a final yawn and you went to sleep, letting the stress wash away from your body.

As Jongho realizes you’ve fallen asleep he stops talking and just looks at your peaceful form. Your breaths fall in a similar rhythm and he pulls the blanket up to cover your whole body. He kisses your forehead sweetly and now closes his own eyes to fall into a comfortable sleep.

#ateez #mingtinysworld #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #ateez jongho #ateez fluff #choi jongho #jongho #jongho fluff

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ghostxrose · 2 days

Note

Thanks for answering my request so fast! Nobody's answered me so fast, even if you didn't write anything. It's fine, though!! Maybe I'll change my request? How about, an angst (of course) where female reader and Bakugou are married and have kids (doesn't matter how much or how old) but it turns out, Bakugou has been cheating (angst ending pls, unless you don't want) on Yn for a while now?

Ive been looking for something like this recently but never found it!

Thanks! 😘😘

Thank you so much for the ask, Lovely! I'm sorry that it took so long for me to answer, but I hope that I excuted the idea well. If I'm being honest, I had some trouble with this idea. Cheating isn't something I write about, but I hope that you get your fill of angst, haha.. Anyway, much love and appreciation, Lovely!

Earth Shattering | Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

You gaze out of the window of your parent’s dining room, gently rocking the half asleep one-year-old in your arms. It’s warm and sunny outside, but even the sun’s rays can’t melt away the cold feeling at the back of your mind of something being off. Life has been going well, you have everything you could ever want, but still that voice of intuition won’t quit its whispering.

“He hasn’t been with you three when you’ve come by for these lunches in ages. Your father and I just miss seeing our son-in-law, that’s all, hunny.” Your mother says with a touch of concern in her tone.

“He’s the country’s Number Two Hero, Mom. He has a busy schedule and he’s exhausted during his days off.” You say, giving her the same tired excuse that you’ve been giving her for nearly a year now.

Your gaze shifts to the bubbly three-year-old giggling and babbling nonsense to your father. A small smile pulls at your lips and something in your chest warms while simultaneously aching.

Truthfully, Katsuki has barely had time for the three of you. Your poor husband is always either out on the streets fighting demented villains or ends up staying late at his office drowning in paperwork. It’s put a bit of a strain of your relationship, but you know that he can’t do much about his work schedule, so you tough it out.

As much as you would have liked for him to come with you to your parent’s house today, you had seen just how exhausted he was. So you told him to spend his day off resting while you and the kids were out of the house for the day. He had asked multiple times if you would be fine handling them, if you were sure about him staying home. He knows that being a stay at home mom can be draining at the very least and you appreciate him wanting to help out. But you had reassured him over and over that you would be fine and told him to just relax as much as he could.

You can admit to yourself that you have been feeling frazzled these days.. It’s no easy task for one person to take care of a rambunctious three-year-old along with a fussy one-year-old. But you do it every day with a smile, even if some days that smile is a bit forced or strained.

“I know, hun,” your mother says softly, walking up to you with a warm smile on her face. She looks down and coos quietly at the sleeping baby in your arms. A more easy smile graces your face and you follow your mother to the couch to sit down.

You talk with your parents for a few more hours. It’s all general conversation and talks about taking the kids out to fun places. You feel slightly more sane on days like this, days where there’s other adults to talk with. Even chatting about mundane things like the weather feels good compared to the constant drone of kids cartoons and baby cries.

You love your kids, of course you do. They’re both the perfect mix of you and Katsuki in looks and personalities. Starting a family had been something you and Katsuki had talked about for a long time after you started dating. When your first child had been born the joy and light in your husband’s eyes was unmatched to any other feeling.

Admittedly, your second child had been an accident.. The result of the night Katsuki had been named Number Two. A night which you hardly remember except that you both had too much champagne and you forgot to take your birth control. But your second child entered the world with a warm and loving welcome from you and Katsuki.

You look over at the clock on the wall and let out a quiet sigh, “Looks like we should head out. It’s getting close to dinner time and I think Kats said he was going to make curry.”

“Alright, sweetie. We’ll help you load up the munchkins,” your father says as he stands up, your tired and fussy three-year-old sleepily clinging to him.

You buckle your one-year-old into their carrier, then grab the diaper bag. Your mother walks out of the kitchen with a container of spiced cookies, one of Katsuki’s favorites, and flashes you a smile. You give her an appreciative smile, then you all file out of the door to your car.

It’s a challenge for your father trying to buckle up your worn-out and inconsolable three-year-old, but the task gets completed. Once your kids are buckled in and everything has been secured in place you turn the car on, then make your way back to your parents. You hug them both, thank them for a nice day, and tell them you’ll try to get Katsuki to come with next time. By the time you slide into the driver’s seat of your car, your once inconsolable three-year-old is passed out and your one-year-old peacefully stares out the window.

The drive home is filled with you quietly humming along with the radio and trying to ignore the sudden and heavy feeling developing in the pit of your stomach. Your mind can’t provide a reason behind the feeling, so you just brush it off. You move with the flow of traffic until you eventually slow to pull into your driveway.

The security gate is already open and the feeling that’s been sitting like a rock in your stomach churns. Pulling up to the house the sight of an unfamiliar car parked in front of your garage is unavoidable. Your body begins to tremble as a million scenarios race through your mind, the top one being that somebody has broken into your home. You put your car in park, leaving it running but turning off the radio. A quick glance in your rear view mirror tells you that both of your children are sleeping.

Panic surges through you as you try to think about what to do. You pull your phone out of your purse and dial Katsuki’s number. It rings for what feels like forever until you get Katsuki’s voicemail. You try calling him a couple more times, but you keep getting his voicemail. Trying to school your breathing so that you don’t wake your children, you call Izuku and luckily he picks up on the first ring.

“Hey, Y/N! What’s up?” Izuku asks with his usual cheerfulness.

“Hey, Izuku. I’m, uhm, I’m kind of freaking out right now,” you say quietly, your eyes darting between your house and the view of your children in the rear view mirror.

“What’s going on?” Izuku’s tone quickly becomes serious and concerned.

“I-I just got home with the kids and the gate was open and there’s a car here that I’ve never seen before.. Katsuki isn’t answering his phone and I don’t know if he’s okay a-and I don’t know what-” Your words rush out of you and despite your best efforts your breathing picks up and tears sting at your eyes.

“I’m on my way right now, just stay in your car, okay? Do you have the doors locked?” There’s the sound of a door closing in the background as Izuku talks to you and a bit of relief fills you.

“Y-yeah.. What if.. what if Katsuki’s hurt, Izuku? What if a villain found out where we live o-or this is a robbery and they have weapons? I-I don’t.. I-I c-can’t..” You bring a hand up to muffle the cry that’s crawled up your throat and your watery eyes look into the mirror again.

“I’m almost there, Y/N. It’s all going to be okay. I’ll find out what’s going on and everything will be just fine.” Izuku tries his best to reassure you, but your stomach still churns with a now sickening feeling and all you can respond with is a weak “okay.”

It doesn’t take long for Iuzku’s car to tear into the driveway, your friend parking haphazardly a few feet away from you. He quickly gets out of his car and flashes you his signature smile before rushing to your front door. You watch him disappear inside and your emotions build up until you feel like you’re going to explode.

Suddenly, the front door is thrown open and a shaken-looking woman rushes out. Her hair is messy, her clothes look like hastily thrown on, and she looks a bit scared. She closes the door behind her and starts to head toward the car parked in front of your garage. Her eyes flit around until they land on your car, and your shocked gaze meets hers. The woman’s eyes widen and she practically runs to her car, quickly getting inside then peeling out of your driveway.

Your shocked mind suddenly goes blank and a numb-feeling spreads through your entire being. With one last look back at your sleeping babies, you get out of your car. You close the door of the running vehicle as slowly and quietly as you can. Mom-guilt about leaving your children in the car eats at the back of your mind as you make your way to the front door.

As soon as you open it you hear shouting coming from down the hall where your bedroom is at. You feel nauseous now and stomach acid burns at the back of your throat as you step further into the house.

“Don’t fucking tell her, Izuku! Sh-she doesn’t need to know! Th-the other women were just stress relief, I still love Y/N!” You hear Katsuki shout at Izuku and it takes conscious effort not to puke your shattered heart out.

You’re sure you’re wearing the same look of horrified shock as Katsuki when you get to the doorway of you and your husband’s bedroom. His is riddled with guilt, though, as your tear-filled eyes meet his. Izuku is at your side in an instant, letting you lean against him as your knees threaten to give out. The silence filling the room is tense, heavy, and suffocating as you take in your husband’s appearance. He’s nearly naked except for a pair of boxers, his hair is messier than usual, and he looks sweaty.

Your swallow dryly and straighten up, “Izuku, can the kids stay with you and Ochako for the night?” Your voice comes out surprisingly even given the situation.

“Y-yeah.. Y/N-” Izuku stutters in his reply, but you cut him off before he can speak further.

“Everything they should need is in the diaper bag in the back of my car. Call if there’s any problems or you guys need anything. Thank you.” You say a bit firmly as you fight to keep your composure.

Katsuki just stands there silently gaping and looking at you with an almost unreadable mix of emotions. You can’t help the trembling of your lip or the tears that continue to spill from your eyes as you stare right back at him. A horrible pain shoots through your chest and it really feels like you can feel your heart breaking. Izuku squeezes your shoulder before silently leaving and you wait until you hear the front door close before letting your composure crumble.

Gut-wrenching sobs are ripped from your chest and your legs finally give up on keeping you standing. You wail into your hands as painful heartbreak and rage consume you.

Katsuki arms are suddenly wrapping around you, “Y/N, baby, I-I’m so sorry! I-”

“Don’t fucking touch me!” You scream as you shove him off of you and crawl backwards away from him. “Take a fucking shower, then meet me out in the living room. I’m not talking to you in the same room you fucked other people! Unless you fucked them on the couch too?! You know what, I’ll be in the damn kitchen! It’s probably safe since you’ve refused to even fuck me in there!”

You’re quick to get up and leave the bedroom, slamming the door behind you before Katsuki could even get another word in. You sob as you make your way to the kitchen, the sight of half-eaten take out boxes sitting on the counter pushing you further over the edge. You barely make it to the trash before the contents of your stomach make their reappearance.

After cleaning yourself up and rinsing your mouth out with some water, you sit at the table and wait in the deathly silence. Too many thoughts run through your mind as you try to figure out if this is reality or not. Your mind supplies you with the reminder of how you noticed Katsuki’s behavior change not long after he had hit Number Two. How he seemed to have more late nights at the office during your second pregnancy, and even after the birth of your baby. How his days off were either spent here at the house by himself or the two of you doing your own things around the house.

The worst thought your mind supplied you is how rarely you were intimate with Katsuki anymore. You had just brushed it off as his sex-drive lowering because of the busy life you both lived. You never would have thought that he was getting his pleasure from other women while you were blissfully unaware and having to pleasure yourself..

You flinch at the sound of the bedroom door closing and your chest aches with every footstep approaching. The sound of the chair across from you being pulled away from the table makes you cringe as the feet of it scrape along the floor. You can feel Katsuki’s gaze on you, see his arms resting against the table top from your peripheral vision. You stare down at the spot on the table in front of you for another moment until you gather the courage to look him in the eyes.

“How long?” You ask quietly, your voice shaking.

Katsuki bits his bottom lip and his eyes shift down to his hands, “Please, Y/N.. I-I fucked up, I was a damn idiot, but please we can work-”

“How long, Katsuki? How long have you been screwing other women while I take care of our children? While I clean our house! While I do your laundry! How long have you been fucking other women in our bed while I’ve been playing loyal wife?!” You ask with such a bitterness and rage that Katsuki flinches.

“..it started a couple months after we found you were pregnant again.. " Katsuki admits quietly, his fists clenched and guilt written all over his face.

You choke on a muffled sob and your mind surges back to to the first message you had gotten from him telling you that he was staying late at work. Every single other message flashes through your mind until you’re reminded that he eventually just stopped sending them and left you to assume.

“..Wh-why? Di-did I do something? Wh-when did I become not enough for you?” You ask brokenly as you wonder how your heart is still beating even though it feels like it should be failing.

“Baby.. Y/N, y-you didn’t do anything.. not on purpose. Y-Your body was so sensitive when you were pregnant, it seemed like every little touch caused you pain.. A-and your mood swings were so constantly changing and I didn’t want to take my frustration out on you because you were carrying my fuckin’ child, so I just bottled it up..” Katsuki tries to explain, but his excuses are poor at best and rage burns in your veins.

“So instead of talking to me about it, instead of having a conversation with your wife, you chose to cheat?” You ask incredulous and hurt.

Katsuki clenches his jaw, his tell-tell signs of anger appearing on his features, “It felt like my wife didn’t want me around, let alone touch me! So, yes, I took advantage of the fact that women willingly throw themselves at me and I got my rocks off that way!”

You flinch as if his words are physical blows and another sob tears from your chest, “You tore apart our lives just to get your dick wet? I am so sorry that my difficult pregnancy pushed you to such an option. I am so sorry that I was so sore that even wearing clothes hurt. I am so sorry that I was so full of hormones that the mood swings that made me feel like shit, made you feel so unwanted. I am so sorry, Katsuki, that carrying, birthing, then caring for both of your children forced you to go put your dick in other pussies!”

Katsuki lets out a frustrated growl, his own anger firing up, “Christ, Y/N, I’m sorry! I’ll be sorry for the rest of my fucking life! I’m sorry that I wasn’t better, but I can be better! I won’t touch another woman again, I promise you! We can work through this, I still love you, damn it!”

A dry, humorless laugh bubbles out of your mouth and you can’t breathe for a moment. Katsuki pants across from you, caught up in his emotion, and stares at you bewildered.

“You’ve made promises, Katsuki,” you spit once you’ve caught your breath. “You stood across from me at that damn alter five years ago, said the same vows that I did. We made the same promises for each other, but the difference now is that I upheld mine! We can’t work through this, I don’t trust you anymore! You’ve single-handedly burned us to the ground-”

“Don’t it, baby, please! Don’t say what I think you’re gonna say,” Katsuki begs as he half stands from his chair to try to reach across the table for you.

You push away from the table, standing fully from your chair and looking at Katsuki with anger and hurt, “We’re done, Katsuki, I want a divorce. In the mean time, the kids and I will be staying at my parent’s house. Don’t bother wasting your efforts trying to fix the shit you’ve broken. We are done.”

You leave Katsuki half hunched over the table stunned with tears in his eyes. You rush to the bedroom and hastily throw articles of clothing into a suit case. You grab a couple pairs of shoes, then quickly leave the bedroom nearly running into your husb- Katsuki. You shove past him as he starts spilling apologies and pleas for you to stay. Every weak grasp on your arm or wrist is met with you wrenching yourself away from him.

Ripping open the front door you rush to your car, throwing your little bit of belongings into the back seat. You climb into the driver’s seat and turn the car on, taking the picture of you and Katsuki off of your sun visor and throwing out of the window. As you back your car up to turn it around, you catch sight of Katsuki one more time. He’s standing on the front porch with guilt, shame, and sadness on his face. Tears cascade down from the eyes that you used to find so beautiful and you have to will yourself not to put the car in park and go running back into his arms.

Your tires screech as you pull out of the driveway, but it doesn’t cover up the sound of you screaming your heart break at your windshield. Tears pour down your face and hinder your vision as you try to maneuver through traffic. You’re desperate to see your babies, to hug them and tell them that you love them and that you’re sorry for what their future is going to become. You’re also desperate for someone’s comfort, whether it be your parents or Izuku and Ochako. You need a shoulder to cry on, a pillow to scream into, and maybe a stiff drink or two.

As you scream, sob, beat your steering wheel, and drive a bit haphazardly, too many thoughts flood your mind. Why would he do this to you? How could he do this to you? Why weren’t you enough? What more could you have done? Is this all actually happening? Is this really your reality?

“This is my reality..” You say aloud hoarsely as you sit in your car looking at Izuku and Ochako’s front door. Your body is simultaneously numb and aching all over. Your mind has finally gone blank, but it’s in the worst way possible. Tears still roll down your face and you sniffle every now and then as you continue dazedly staring.

How is it that your entire world can shatter within the span of a day?

Sorry if it wasn't angsty enough! But I hope that you stick around for future angst! I really cannot thank you enough for the ask/request, it means a lot to me that you'd want to reach out to me at all! My hope is to start interacting with my readers more, so I hope that others see this and want to follow your lead!

Hope you enjoyed the read and keep being amazing, Lovely! <3

#bakugo brain rot #bakugo katuski #bnha bakugou #mha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugou #bnha #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x you #mha #shasta rose asks #asks #request #writing requests #angst #hurt/angst #no comfort

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 1 day

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The Avocado & The Turnip (The Surprise, Part 8)

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: established relationship, pregnancy times, fluffy fluff, kind of hurt/comfort (?), mentions of some pretty horrific crimes (duh), gunshot wound, some explicit language Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: A series of hard cases puts a strain on your relationship with Emily. Anxieties run high on both sides, and the reality of Emily's job–and the risks the come with it–feel even more real than usual now that there's going to be a child in the picture.

Week 16: The Avocado

“I just don’t know what to say to him,” Emily exclaimed, resting her chin on your stomach, a worried look on her face.

Your plans for an adorable evening of talking to the baby had backfired. For unknown reasons, Emily had come home in a bad mood, anxious and on edge. Somehow, the news that the baby could likely hear you now had only made her more anxious.

“You can say anything, Em. She’s the size of an avocado. She’s not gonna remember what we say; she’s gonna remember our voices.”

You ran your fingers through Emily’s hair, trying your best to alleviate some of her stress. You’d meant for this to be good news, to be a fun, cute little moment she could have with you and the baby after a brutal day at work.

“Tell her about your day,” you suggested.

Emily glared at you, and you felt yourself shrink. “I can’t tell him about my day!” she yelled, her voice angry. “What am I supposed to say? Hey, little man! I have to leave you tomorrow to go find a guy who’s murdering teenage boys by ripping their throats out with his teeth and then eating them. But don’t worry, I’ve only had to deal with, oh, ten or so cannibals over the years. The chances of you being cannibalized are slim. Never zero though!”

In your head, you knew that Emily’s outburst had nothing to do with you, nothing to do with the baby, and everything to do with the horrendous things she saw at work. She tried very hard not to bring work home with her, not to carry the weight of the horrors she saw every day into your house. But sometimes they stuck to her. Sometimes they dragged her down, and she couldn’t quite shake them. But it wasn’t often that she was mean. She hardly ever raised her voice at you. She knew it scared you.

You sat up and placed a hand protectively over your stomach, trying to keep your face set, impassive, but flinching a little as Emily moved toward you.

She was instantly full of regret. Her face fell as she noticed that your posture had changed from open to defensive, noticed the way your eyes had glazed over–a remnant of trauma.

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” she breathed, cupping your cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

You softened when you saw that she was close to crying–a rarity for Emily–and pulled her head to your chest, pressing kisses to the top of her head.

“I’m sorry, baby,” she mumbled against you. “It was just a hard day.”

“Tell me about it.”

“What?” she asked, lifting her head a bit.

“Tell me,” you insisted. “I can handle it. You’re my wife. You had a bad day. I want to hear about it.”

Emily shook her head, her voice so quiet you almost couldn’t hear. “No, you don’t.”

“Hey,” you said, tilting her chin so she was looking in your eyes. “I can decide what’s too much for me, okay?” You rubbed your thumb back and forth along her cheek. “If I say I can handle it, I need you to believe me.”

Emily sighed, exhaling shakily. “You remember after we started dating?” she explained, her voice low. “And I had a really hard time at work because every victim who was a woman made me think of you?”

“I remember,” you answered. And you did. If there had ever been a time in your relationship when you would’ve broken up with Emily, that would have been it. She’d been angry, on edge, paranoid, and even more obsessive about work than usual. It had eventually gotten so bad that you’d given her an ultimatum–start going to therapy or this isn’t going to work. Nearly six years later, Emily still had a biweekly standing appointment with her therapist–unless, of course, she was in the field.

She played with your fingers, quiet for a moment. “It feels like that all over again, but with kids. Child victims are hard anyway, but… every tiny body I see, I just think of him and–” Her voice broke, and you held her a little tighter. “It scares the shit out of me.”

“Of course it does,” you assured her. “That just means you love her, baby. It means you’re gonna be a great mom. It makes sense that those cases hit closer to home right now.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to take it out on you. Or him.”

You exhaled slowly, kissing the top of her head again. “When was your last appointment with Angie?”

Emily sat up, stretching, and shrugged, looking guilty. “Last month, maybe? I just–I’ve been out on cases and…”

“I know, baby,” you said, taking her hands in yours before she could start biting her nails. “It’s okay. But, maybe you should call her and see if she can get you in. Even tonight, you know? Before you leave tomorrow. She does telehealth, doesn’t she?”

Emily nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

She still looked guilty and nervous. It broke your heart.

“Come here,” you said, tugging her onto your lap. She wrapped her arms and legs around you and hugged you like you were the only thing keeping her tethered to this world. And for your part–you held on like you’d never, ever let her go–and you never, ever would.

Week 17: The Turnip

“She what!?” you yelled into the phone, launching yourself off the couch and scrounging around in the junk drawer for your keys.

“Calm down, mama,” Derek soothed through the phone. “It’s just a surface wound. The bullet grazed her shoulder, that’s all.”

“That’s all!? My wife gets shot, and you’re telling me that’s all!?”

You heard a scuffle on the other end of the phone, a distant, sharp Give me the phone! and then there was Emily’s voice, flooding you with relief.

“Honey, I’m fine, I promise,” she said, and she certainly didn’t sound like she was dying.

“You got shot!”

“Just a little bit…” Her voice was sheepish.

You threw up your hands in frustration. “Emily Elizabeth Prentiss! You have a child coming. You can’t be getting shot!”

“I know, I know.”

You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “What hospital are you at?”

“No, baby, you don’t need to come,” she protested.

“Don’t need to come, my ass,” you grumbled. “Where are you?”

Another scuffle and Derek had the phone back. “Y/N. Hey. We’re just in Baltimore, alright? She’ll probably be discharged here in a few minutes, and I’ll bring her home.”

You were still a little suspicious. “Straight home?”

“You have my word.”

It was the longest hour and a half of your life, sitting on the couch, watching the Find My dot of Emily inch its way home. You frowned when you saw her stop at El Rinconcito. That little shit. She was trying to buy you off with pupusas. Well, it wasn’t going to work. Your stomach rumbled. Well, it might work a little bit.

A half hour later, you heard the door unlock. Derek held it open for a very guilty looking Emily, who walked through the threshold with her arm bandaged and wrapped in a sling.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, your hands fluttering all over her, gingerly touching the bandage and turning her face this way and that to check for more damage.

“I’m fine, honey,” she said, pressing her good hand to your face and kissing you.

“Mmhm,” you mumbled, unconvinced. “Tell that to your unborn child.”

Emily crouched down and pressed a kiss to your stomach. “Mommy’s just fine, little guy, don’t you worry.”

It was so cute, you couldn’t even be that mad.

“Alright, lovebirds,” Derek said, gesturing to the couch. “Get comfortable and let Uncle Derek take care of you.”

You grimaced, thinking of straight people things. “Eew.”

He rolled his eyes at you. “Not like that. Sit down and eat your pupusas, woman.”

You and Emily giggled, plopping yourselves on the couch, one on either side.

Derek threw blankets at you, and you got yourselves situated, your legs tangled in the middle. Derek plated the takeout and brought it to you.

“I could get used to this,” Emily said, taking a bite and running her foot up and down your leg.

“You better fucking not,” you mumbled through a bite of pupusa. “I don’t want you getting shot every time you want a lazy day.”

Derek brought you both glasses of water and set a bottle of pain meds on the side table next to Emily.

“Anything else I can do for you, ladies?” he asked. “Foot rub? Serenade? Grocery run?”

You smiled at him. He was so good to you. Both of you. “You’re gonna make some straight woman very happy.”

He bent down to ruffle your hair and to squeeze Emily’s good hand. “I’ll settle for my favorite lesbians for now. You need anything else before I go?”

Emily shook her head. “No, I think we’ll be okay. Thanks, Morgan.”

“Anytime, Prentiss,” he replied, giving her a small salute as he walked out the door. "Call me if you need anything."

The moment he left, you shot a glare at Emily.

“What?” she said, trying and failing to shrug, thanks to her injured shoulder.

You couldn’t help the worried expression that took over your face.

“Please tell me you’re careful,” you pleaded, brushing a few unexpected tears from under your eyes.

“Y/N.” She sat up, alarmed, and reached for your hand. “I’m careful. I swear.”

“I just… I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“And you’ll never have to find out,” she reassured, rubbing her thumb across the back of your hand.

“We need you, Em,” you whispered, placing your other hand over your baby bump.

She winced a little as she moved forward, pulling your face toward her so she could stroke your cheek. “I’m never reckless, honey. I do everything I can to stay safe. I promise. I will always come home to you.”

You were quiet as she pressed her forehead to yours, breathing in the smell of her, the warmth. You both knew it was a promise she couldn't make, not with her job. But you needed Emily to understand that it wasn't just her she was staying safe for anymore. It was you and the little one, who deserved to grow up with both of her moms.

“Sometimes it scares me how much I love you,” you said, so quiet she almost didn’t hear.

Emily kissed your forehead, then pressed her lips to yours, soft and gentle. “Me too.”

She pecked you on the lips again, then brushed her thumb over your bottom lip. “But you don’t need to be scared today, okay?”

She smiled a little, and you nodded, taking a deep breath.

“Now, eat your pupusas,” she grinned, pinching your cheek.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic

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