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stevieschrodinger · 5 months

Text

Part One

for @vampiregirl1797

“I just feel like we should put all our cards on the table before we go...all in. I’d like to go all in, but I feel like we need to be straight with each other about some stuff.”

“Oooookay,” Eddie says slowly, lowering himself to sit at the table. He had to shuffle the chair back a bit to fit the bump, “uhm, right.” Eddie feels kind of sick. Not the morning sickness kind, that’s long gone now, just the regular this is the End Of The Steve Thing kind of sick. Because someone basically saying we need to talk has never, not once, turned out well.

So.

Eddie maybe hasn’t come clean about anything. Eddie’s maybe been spending months scenting Steve curled up on his couch watching shitty movies. Eddie maybe just said the pups father isn’t in the picture and didn’t elaborate. Eddie maybe thought Steve had just bought that.

But Steve wants the truth, and Eddie’s going to let him have it, even though when Steve finds out what a little drug dealing slut of an Omega Eddie has been, like, historically, this might be it for straight laced Steve.

The End.

“I started in the library because I was doing community restitution.”

Eddie’s brain screeches to a sort of halt. Because wait. This was about Eddie admitting he’s a shit human being, right? Not for Steve to admit to doing anything wrong…? Wasn't it?

“Community restitution?” Eddie starts slowly, “like...you’re a criminal?”

Steve snorts but then looks at the table, fiddling with his own fingers before he looks back up again, “yeah. Kinda’.”

“And the crime was..?”

“Property damage. Rob’s boss tried to touch her up and then when she walked he screwed her out of her last pay check. It was her word against his so that didn’t go anywhere and...I may have smashed a couple of windows. A dozen. A dozen windows. While intoxicated.”

Eddie can’t even imagine that. Steve’s wearing fucking slippers and he’s at home now, so he’s swapped into the glasses that have an old people chain so he can hang them around his neck and not loose them, “I mean. Sounds...like a fair response. Yeah. Okay.”

“Sure?” Steve looks uncertain.

“I mean? If that's the worst thing you've ever done I’m pretty sure were good?”

Steve hums, it’s not a positive sound, “you know I’m,” he indicates the sides of his head. Steve’s told Eddie about the concussions. The sports scholarship. The one too many hits to the head and then the burst eardrum and the following infections that fucked his hearing up real good and pretty conclusively ended his career before it even started.

“Yeah?”

“Right, so without them in, I mean, I don’t wear them to sleep.”

And Eddie hadn’t thought about that, didn’t realize, because he hasn’t actually slept with Steve yet. Because Steve was courting him. Properly courting him. They have date night. It’s so fucking domestic Eddie nearly turns inside out over it.

Also Steve works in a library and he read somewhere that the bite of an Alpha who is not the sire of the pup can, in a few rare cases, cause the Omega’s body to fail the pregnancy and like...reject the pup in favor of having another heat so it can carry the pup of their actual mate. Or something. And because of that Steve won’t do more than kiss Eddie. Because he’s not willing to even take the risk that he might bite Eddie in the heat of the moment. He’s so fucking committed he actually offered to get Eddie off. Was very clear that he wanted absolutely nothing in return, was just happy to do hand or even mouth stuff to keep Eddie happy if that’s what he wanted.

Steve is like, just, how is he even real? And obviously Eddie said no because he's not a complete dick and saying yes felt incredibly selfish, even though he's been kicking himself every day since because when Eddie makes a decision Steve fucking respects that.

Fucking perfect loveable bastard.

Which is as adorable as it is fucking frustrating. But Eddie has also agreed that they will wait. They will wait until the pups born. They will wait for such time as Eddie can fully focus on a relationship. Whatever Steve means by that because Eddie is horny and doesn’t really care for the waiting part but-

“So I’m pretty deaf, at night.”

“Riiiight…?” Eddie has no idea where Steve’s going with this. Eddie is clearly fucking missing something along the line here.

“So when the pup cries at night, I won’t hear it. Like I definitely won’t hear it. And I get that, someone who can help more would be more appealing. Sometimes I don’t hear so good if there’s a lot of noise, so I’m worried if the pup cries and like, the TV’s on or something, I might not hear right away. And if you’re tired, I want to help at night, it’s not fair if you have to wake up all the time. I know I should have said something sooner but honestly it only really occurred to me today at work-”

Eddie’s heart is fucking melting into his guts. This is too much. Steve Harrington who smashes windows in defense of his best friend's honor. Steve Harrington who actually worries about his ability to look after another Alpha’s pup. This man. Eddie doesn’t know what to do and now his stupid face is leaking because he cries at fucking everything at the moment and Steve is looking at him absolutely horrified. Jesus Christ on a cracker.

Steve dashes around the table and dabs Eddie’s eyes with his own sleeve, while Eddie blubs incoherently about how perfect Steve is and how he’s the best Alpha ever.

So. There’s that.

Later, when Eddie’s finally managed to stop crying, but is lying splotchy faced on the couch, admits to Steve, “I’m not sure who the Alpha is. And they’re all douches so I didn’t want to hang around to find out.”

“Oh,” Steve says quietly, rubbing at Eddie’s knee, “do you want to find out now?”

“Still no. And, I get if you think it’s...wrong or...selfish...or whatever. I understand if you...you know, don’t like that I was sleeping around a bit.”

Steve seems to actually ponder that for a while, so Eddie decides to go all in and put the final nail in his own coffin, “also, I used to sell drugs. And do drugs. Some drugs. But not now. Not touched it since I found out about the pup. Haven’t been selling since I came back. Or smoking actually,” Eddie sighs, “could kill for a smoke right now though.”

Steve’s quiet for a long time, thinking. “Is the Alpha...likely to find out? Could this come back on you?”

Eddie bites his lip, taking a moment over it, “I don’t see how it ever could, no.”

Steve sighs, “okay, and clearly you weren't being safe, so did you get tested?”

Eddie swallows thickly, desperately trying not to start crying again, the embarrassment of admitting this out loud to Steve, Steve who is just so much better than him, might eat him alive, “yeah. Yeah, first uhm, appointment I had with the Omega nurse, we did all that. I’m all good. And I haven’t...been with anyone, since I got back to Hawkins.”

“So, basically, you found out about your pup and changed everything about your life, so you could do the best thing you possibly could for you baby, practically overnight?”

“I- I mean. I’ve tried?”

Steve pulls Eddie up and into his lap, so they can scent each other thoroughly, “Eddie, I think you’re wonderful.”

And Eddie shoves his face harder into Steve’s neck because he’s pretty sure his whole face is bright red with blush.

Eddie’s knee is bouncing, making the chain from his wallet jiggle, but he doesn’t seem to be able to make it stop. Steve rests his hand on Eddie’s disobedient knee; that works.

When Eddie’s name gets called, he goes, knowing that Steve is right behind him. They do the boring bit, and then Eddie is getting up on the bed and then the nurse is saying, “are you staying?” With a frown on her face.

And Steve looks down to Eddie and Eddie says, “yes?” and is then suddenly bristling at the side eye they are both getting from this nurse. Because yes, okay, Eddie doesn’t have a bite, and yes, fine, he and Steve aren’t mated but god dammit he wants Steve here for this.

He can feel the stupid nurse judging him and he fucking hates it but then Steve is squeezing his fingers reassuringly and yeah, okay, that does make it better.

Eddie doesn’t like the cold gel or the pressure, but he does love hearing his pups heartbeat. He really fucking does. It’s quick and strong and perfect.

“Would you like to know the sex?”

Eddie looks at Steve, but Steve’s just smiling and shrugging and being all perfect still. Happy to go along with whatever Eddie wants. Everything Eddie wants. Even though it’s technically not Steve’s choice anyway, even though it’s not Steve’s pup. Even though all of that, some Alphas would be presumptuous enough to pass an opinion, or worse; Steve absolutely never has.

And Eddie was always the kind of kid who shook the Christmas gifts, who couldn’t sleep, who couldn’t wait.

“Yeah, yeah please?”

“It’s a girl.”

“A girl,” and Eddie can feel the waterworks starting up again already and it doesn’t help when he looks up and Steve is looking at the screen with a look of wonder on his face. Steve looks like he’s in love. “I’d like to refer you though, for a routine investigation.”

Eddie’s nerves spark even though the nurse lady hasn’t given any indication of anything being wrong, “what for?”

She hums, moving the wand thing around, “it’s reasonably common in male Omega that their hips are too narrow to safely pass the pup. And from what I see here you may fall into that category, we should find out now and not in the delivery room.”

Steve squeezes Eddie’s hand again, “yeah. Yeah, makes sense.”

At least it means there’s no guesswork. Eddie isn’t waiting to go into labor; his narrow hips mean he has a date and time to meet his pup. He wants Steve with him, Wayne doesn’t even question it; is happy to sit in the waiting room with his newspaper and wordie or whatever that thing is he plays on his phone. There’s a curtain up, and Eddie can’t feel a fucking thing from the chest down because of the godamn terrifying needle thing they’ve put in his spine. So at least there’s that.

It feels like forever and no time at all, a lifetime of trying desperately not to panic while Steve holds his hand tight and tells him everything is okay. And god Eddie wants to snap and ask him where his sudden medical degree has come from, but he doesn’t, he bites it back, knows it’s the fear talking.

And then there’s a pup crying and she’s a bit gross and covered in gack but she’s being deposited straight onto Eddie’s bare chest and he doesn’t know what to do because suddenly he’s a parent. But Steve coos down at her and doesn’t seem at all phased by the gack when he holds her tiny hand oh so gently in his big one.

Eddie wakes up, and his calves are throbbing. He feels like he's actually run somewhere, and has the worst cramp. But then, he wriggles his toes and realizes he can feel everything again, even if he wishes he couldn't because everything fucking hurts.

Right behind that, he remembers why everything fucking hurts, and that startles him the rest of the way awake, suddenly flooded with panic because where is-?

Oh. All he has to do it look to the side, and she's right there, swaddled up in Steve's arms, Steve comfortably feeding her a bottle.

Steve must sense he's awake grinning over, "did you see how much hair she has? It's going to be just like yours." And Steve looks so absolutely delighted by that simple thing, and Eddie can't help but think that maybe this whole thing will work out okay.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #ao3 writer #ficlet #mpreg #omega eddie munson #omega eddie because he's so pretty #alpha steve harrington #omegaverse

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hqbaby · 7 days

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eight — good game

mess it up — gojo x reader & sukuna x reader

⁀➴ when i told you i’m fine, you were lied to. when the love of your life falls for someone else, you decide to move on—by pretending to date your best friend, the campus fuckboy.

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 2.2k content. profanity, mentions of difficult family situations, reader is an anxious wreck for a good bit

When Sukuna first met you, he was a fifteen-year-old nightmare with a penchant for pissing everyone off. His teachers hated him, his classmates avoided him, and he, frankly, did not give a fuck.

To the girls in your grade, he was a right of passage. The bad boy they all had to go through before they came to their senses. The one who all their parents prayed would never come near their daughters, until he inevitably did and they resorted to locking their children away until the phase passed.

The two of you floated in different very spheres, had different friends, did different things. You were the most unlikely pair. Until you weren’t.

You met after class one unremarkable afternoon. It had been a busy day and you were beyond overwhelmed by finals, your attempt at joining the tennis team, and your family’s forthcoming breakdown. It was all getting to be a little too much, so you decided to hang back after classes when everyone had gone and take a moment to yourself.

You were on the school rooftop, peering over the ledge at the empty grounds, when Sukuna decided to scare the shit out of you.

“What the fuck!” you exclaimed as the boy popped up from behind a wall with a loud “Boo!”

He cackled as you jumped back from the ledge, clutching a hand to your chest. “Sorry,” he wheezed. “It was just a really good opportunity.”

You rolled your eyes at him.

You knew Sukuna, of course. From the periphery. Your friends sometimes talked about him, about the subjects he was failing, the revolving door of girls he was dating. The two of you were never in the same classes, but you were well-aware of his existence.

“What are you doing out here anyway?” he said when he had calmed himself down. He shot a teasing look at you. “Y’know, you could get in trouble for being at school this late.”

“You’re here too,” you shot back at him.

He bounced on his toes and grinned. “Touché.”

You sat down on a ledge and smoothed your skirt out, glancing back at the view from up high. “It’s really quiet.”

He hummed. “Yeah,” he said. “I honestly wish it was like this all the time.”

He sat down beside you and you quirked a brow at him.

“What are you doing?” you asked, scooting away from him.

He raised his hands in defense. “I’m just sitting, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that,” you said, scowling. “Your tricks don’t work on me. I know who you are.”

“I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be.”

The boy stretched his legs out and sighed. In the fading afternoon light, you managed to finally get a good look at this enigma that seemed to have no purpose in life other than to torment others. You were surprised to find just how normal he was, sitting beside you in his wrinkled school shirt, his hair disheveled, his manner easy.

“What are you doing here?” you found yourself asking him.

He looked at you with an expression of surprise. “What?”

You furrowed your brows. “I just asked what you were doing here.”

“Right.” He nodded, running a hand through his hair. There was something so boyish about his demeanor, a little awkward, a little uncertain. This was the ‘bad boy’ that had all the girls in your class swooning?

“I don’t really wanna go home,” he told you. His tone was soft, sheepish even. “Things aren’t exactly… good there.”

You were taken aback by his honesty. His vulnerability. Could it be that Sukuna was actually just a person? Just like you?

“Oh,” you said. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, offering you a smile. It was gentler this time, not as brash as his usual smirk, his cheeky grins. “Don’t be,” he told you. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to dump that on you.”

“It’s okay,” you said and you were shocked to find that you meant it. “I’m… Well, I’m actually doing the same thing. Avoiding home.”

He cocked his head. “Yeah?” he said. “Not so good too?”

You scrunched your nose. “Yeah. Not so good.”

Sukuna gave you a knowing look then leaned backwards, staring up at the darkening sky. He was silent, just soaking in the passing time. You joined him in quiet reverie, and you realized that you actually enjoyed this stranger’s presence. It was nice. Good even.

“I know you too,” he said quietly.

You frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

There he was again with his slightly-embarrassed-teenage-boy look. “I’ve heard about you,” he says. “And I see you in the hallways sometimes and, I dunno, I just like watching you do your thing.”

“My thing?” You chuckled. “What do you mean?”

“Your thing,” he repeated, smiling. “You know, helping people. Caring about them. Like when you went ballistic on Dai because he wouldn’t leave Hikari alone.”

You felt your cheeks heat up. He’d seen that?

“He was being annoying,” you tried to justify.

Sukuna laughed. “Yeah, and you put him in his place.”

“I was too mean.”

“You were just the right amount of mean. Pounced on the guy like he deserved.”

The lamp on the rooftop turned on as the sky went completely dark. You hadn’t meant to stay there that long.

You stood up and grabbed your backpack. “I gotta go,” you said, straightening out your uniform. “Um, thanks… for this.”

He waved it off. “‘Course.”

You nodded and turned back to leave. As you grabbed the handle of the door, you heard him call after you.

“Yeah?” you said, looking back at him.

“See you around, tiger!”

“Is she always like this?” Sukuna asks, turning to Maki and Nobara in the backseat. “It’s freaking me out.”

The four of you are in his car. Despite your protests, Sukuna had insisted that he drive you to your game. “That’s what good boyfriends do, right?” he reasoned right before you promptly slapped the back of his head.

Maki and Nobara—your ever-loving supporters—weren’t too jazzed when they found out that you’d be riding with him, so they decided to tag along. “So he doesn’t try anything,” Nobara explained before you shoved her onto the couch.

“Have you never seen her before a game?” Maki asks him.

He shakes his head. “No,” he tells her, glancing at you. “What the fuck is going on?”

To put things simply, what’s going on is that you’re brooding in your spot in the passenger’s seat, slowly working your way through a pack of gum in your lap. You’ve shoved four sticks into your mouth already, as far as Sukuna’s counted, and you seem like you have no intentions of stopping. You also haven’t spoken to him or your friends all morning, and—Sukuna’s decided this is the worst part—every few minutes, you proceed to crack your knuckles so loudly that he’s worried you’re going to snap your fingers off.

“You’re gonna choke,” he says, swatting your hand as you start to unwrap another stick of gum.

Oh, how he regrets doing that.

The glare you shoot him is the most terrifying thing he’s ever seen. See, Sukuna’s used to your annoyance, your confusion, even your anger. But he has never been subject to the complete and utter wrath you become capable of hours before a big game. He wouldn’t wish it on the worst person alive.

You look like you’re about to lunge at him when Nobara reaches from the back to hold you down.

“Just drive,” she tells Sukuna, unwrapping a stick of gum and feeding it to you. “She’ll be back to normal after the game.”

When you get to the court, Sukuna turns to you in an attempt to say something uplifting. Good luck, maybe. Have fun—would that be appropriate. But you’re marching away from them as soon as you see the rest of your team.

He’s completely stunned by this change in your attitude and his face does nothing to hide it. Maki and Nobara share a look at your best friend’s utter confusion and decide to give the guy a bone. He deserves a break from their scrutiny, even just for today.

“Come on,” Maki says, grabbing his arm and dragging him to the stands. “This is just her thing. She gets really nervous before a match.”

He bobs his head, sitting down where she tells him too. “Yeah, I figured.”

Of course, if Sukuna didn’t expect your pre-game mood swings, he’s absolutely not prepared to watch you out on the court, a complete beast as you essentially slap the ball away from you as soon as it reaches your side of the court.

He’s seen you in training before, all giddy and excited. Your normal self. He’s seen you teach kids on the weekend, all gentle and caring. He has, however, never been to one of your games before. Up until now, you’ve refused to let him go to one. He’s never questioned it before, just figured that you probably thought tennis was too boring for him.

Now he suspects that you were doing it for his own safety as he watches you return the ball with what he assumes is the same amount of power as a missile launcher.

The crowd goes wild after one particularly intense rally that Mai ends with—what Maki whispers to Nobara is—a drop shot. He has no idea why all these people are so happy. He never thought a game like this could look so violent.

“Are they winning?” he asks Nobara, eyes frantic.

She stifles her laughter at his confused expression. “Oh, yeah, they’re winning,” she tells him. “Our girl’s doing great.”

Sukuna swallows and turns back to you. There’s this stern look on your face as you pat Mai’s shoulder before she serves. When you move away to take your place, your eyes catch on his and, for just a moment, you flash him a nervous smile. A chink in the armor you’ve been wearing all day. Then you turn back to the court and you’re all serious again, but Sukuna swears he feels his heart skip a beat.

“Satoru’s here,” Maki tells Nobara, pointing at a spot a few seats away from them.

Sukuna manages to take his eyes off you for a moment to look at the man in question. He has a cap and shades on, but there’s no doubt that it’s him. What the fuck is he doing here?

And of course Sukuna and your friends aren’t the only ones who notice. You’re completely engrossed in the point until your eyes drift just a little, towards Satoru. You manage to return the ball a few times, but it isn’t long before—crack!

Sukuna barely registers what’s happening as you fall on your foot in what he’s sure is definitely the wrong way and you slip to the ground. A few members of the audience gasp as you roll over on your back and clutch at your ankle. It all happens so fast, from where Sukuna’s watching. Mai and your coach heading to your side, the medic hot on their heels. Maki and Nobara are standing, grabbing their things so they can get closer to you.

It takes one look at your face—watery eyes and pained expression—for Sukuna to rush over to you.

When he gets to you, a decision has been made to end the game and get you out of there. When he gets to you, Satoru’s already gotten to you first.

“I’m so sorry,” you’re telling Mai as Satoru lifts you from the ground to bring you to the sidelines.

She shakes her head. “Stop it,” she tells you. “The team will win it for us.”

As they get to the benches, Satoru stops in his tracks at the sight of Sukuna, glowering at him.

“I can take it from here, man,” Sukuna says, pulling you out of your ex’s arms. He’s very gentle with you though as he looks down at you and smiles. “You did great.”

Your lips are wobbly as you sniffle. “I fucked up.”

Sukuna presses his lips to the top of your head. “You didn’t fuck up.”

Satoru watches this whole thing unfold before him, clenching his fists as the sight. “They need to check her at the clinic,” he says in a low voice. “I had it covered, you know.”

Sukuna looks at him with a snarl. “She’s my girlfriend,” he said pointedly. “I’ll take it from here.”

Maki catches up and takes one look at you in Sukuna’s arms, one look at the seething Satoru, one look at your smug best friend, and sighs. “Come on, let’s get her to the clinic,” she says, before looking at you. “You good, babe?”

“Yeah,” you tell her softly. Your eyes shift nervously from Sukuna to Satoru, both men looking like they’re going to pounce on the other, and you decide that you need this to end. “Stop being assholes and get me to the clinic.”

Your words snap Sukuna out of his testosterone-induced daze and he nods, turning without a thought of Satoru on his mind. He needs to be here for you right now.

Satoru tries to follow, but Maki holds his shoulder and shakes her head. “It’s better if you don’t.”

He watches as you and Sukuna disappear into the crowd. He turns to your friend. “So that’s okay with you?” he asks her, still looking at the spot where the two of you were. “What? Is he some kind of saint now?”

Maki pats his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she tells him. “For what it’s worth, I really liked the two of you together.”

Satoru scoffs. “Right,” he says. “Sure.”

notes. i am totally not projecting my experiences as an ex tennis player gf on sukuna. like that’s so not happening here

#hqbaby.miu #hqbaby #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo #gojo x reader #sukuna #sukuna x reader

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cinnamostar · 5 months

Text

blind date

pairing : changbin x gn!reader

summary : when you’re set up on a blind date and it turns out to be your ex boyfriend from two years ago

wc : 1.6k

cw : nonidol!au, they’re exes your honor, fluffy, cutesy, not proof read that much idk what else

a/n : wrote this on my phone again so sorry for any mistakes! i don’t really know how to feeeel abt this fic, not my best work but i hope you like it!

you let out a nervous sigh as you enter the restaurant, a cold shiver traveling down your spine as the hostess leads you to your table, one your friends reserved on your behalf. you were starting to regret agreeing to this blind date your friends, hyunjin and felix, set you up on, but they were so insistent on it and said they found the ‘perfect’ match for you. you weren’t sure if you could trust them that much, but you knew at the very least, whoever it was wouldn’t be some creep like your other unfortunate dates.

hyunjin and felix were some of your best friends, ones you made in the last two years since you moved to the city due to a new position you got in your company. you met them by chance through a few coworkers, and since then, the three of you have been inseparable. they were incredibly supportive people, but they were tired of hearing you complain about shitty dates every weekend, so they decided to take matters in their own hands, stating they know this really cool guy through some other friends who was ‘totally’ your type. and apparently this new guy just moved to the city a few months ago too, so you would be the perfect tour guide for him too.

regardless of your nerves, you decide to put your trust in your friends as you patiently wait for this mystery man to arrive. you were curious to know what those two boys believed your type was and what made them so hellbent on making you go on this date, but perhaps curiosity killed the cat.

“hey, sorry im late!” a voice you were all too familiar with rings in your ears, the man before you rushing into his seat across from you with an apologetic smile as your mouth hangs open in utter shock and surprise, goosebumps making themselves known all over your body.

once he sits down, he looks up to meet your flabbergasted expression, the smile on his face falling once the realization hits him. his faces pales, almost as if he just saw a ghost appear right before his very eyes.

“changbin?” you ask incredulously, still not able to accept the ridiculousness of the situation.

“y/n?!” he mirrors your tone, except he was far more boisterous than you, causing a few heads to turn as he flashes a sheepish and apologetic grin to the other patrons around you two.

“i… uh, you’re my blind date?” he questions in a lower volume with raised eyebrows.

you sigh, an astounded chuckle escaping you, “i guess so…”

“i see… since when did you move here?”

“uhm, a little bit over two years ago. i ended up taking that promotion my company offered me,” you respond, a hint of anxiousness trembling through your words.

“oh, so, basically after we broke up..?”

“mhm,” you hum in confirmation, your body feeling tense due to the awkwardness that hung in the air between you two. “felix and hyunjin told me you just moved here, right?”

changbin nods, “yeah, one of my old friends needed a roommate and i just kinda wanted a fresh start, so i took my chances. how do you know hyunjin and felix?”

“coworkers,” you reply shortly, not really sure what to do in this situation.

“oh, cool! they’re old high school friends of mine, we only reconnected recently,” he smiles gently, biting his lips due to his nervousness, “i’m sorry if this is awkward.”

“ah, no, it’s okay. it’s no one’s fault, this is just some crazy coincidence,” you reassure him, “we don’t have to go through with the rest of the date, it’s okay to end it he-“

“no, no!” he interrupts, a dusting of pink appearing on his cheeks, “if you’re okay with it, we can just use this to catch up, no? it’s been awhile since we last spoke.”

you let out an uncertain sigh, “i’m fine with it, it’s just that we really didn’t end on the greatest of terms, did we?”

changbin’s face grimaces as he reflects back on the last months of your relationship, ones that were filled with constant fighting and disagreements over the littlest of things, which ultimately led to a very over dramatic break up since you both had become sick of each other over time. “no, definitely not,” he chuckles, “but we can catch up like old friends, no? unless, you wanna miss out on a lovely time with me, then that’s your decision,” he teases, the old changbin you once fell in love with slowly peaking through.

you roll your eyes playfully, “right, it would be a shame if i missed out on something like that,” a smile breaks out onto your face, a sudden wave of butterflies and shyness overtaking you. “sure, let’s catch up. i don’t mind.”

“great,” he clasps his hand almost as if he was celebrating this small victory, an embarrassed smile taking over his features, “well, i guess hyunjin and felix weren’t lying when they said this ‘mystery date,’” he lifts his hands to do air quotes, “would be my ideal type.”

you shake your head, laughing at his statement, “right, they weren’t wrong at all. maybe they were a little too spot on.”

somehow, those two hit the nail on the head and somehow paired up two former lovers through some miraculous twist of fate. there was no denying that your heart still had room for changbin, a piece of it feeling empty since your relationship with him ended. at the end of it, you had chalked it up to right person, but bad timing, as each of you were far too engrossed in each other’s career goals that inevitably took time away from the other. it wasn’t the right set of circumstances for either of you, as nether of you were at a stage of life where you could nourish a healthy relationship. he was once the person you imagined to spend the rest of your life with, but at that time, you thought if you weren’t able to bear hardships with him, then maybe he wasn’t meant to be that person. it was easier to accept you two were never meant to be, but your heart knew better than that. your heart knew he was the one, but that life just cruelly got in the way of your relationship with him.

eventually, the waiter came around to take down your orders, briefly interrupting the flow of conversation you and changbin were having. in some strange way, talking to changbin against was incredibly refreshing, as you missed the sense of safety and familiarity he brought with him. he was still the same sweet and endearing changbin you once fell in love with all those years ago, and maybe those feelings of love never truly left your heart as each time he would giggle, your heart would thump out your chest. you found yourself having to resist the natural urge to hold his hand, or to reach over and pinch his cheeks like you use to do back when you were together.

you missed this, and you missed changbin more than you could’ve ever imagined. his very appearance was enough to rekindle old flames of affection you once held for him, ones you never thought you’d be able to experience again. you both were enjoying every moment together, laughing and poking fun at each other as if nothing had ever changed, and before you knew it, two hours had gone by in the blink of an eye.

changbin insisted on walking you to your car, matter-of-factly informing you it’s what chivalrous men like himself do, which sent you into a small fit of giggles.

a gentle breeze bellows through you both, a comfortable silence filling the air, the awkwardness from earlier no longer to be found. you look up to the night sky, taking a chance to admire the full moon that glistens above you.

“you know, whenever i look at the moon, i still think of you,” changbin confesses in a hushed whisper, a longing look in his eyes as if he was looking off into some distant memory. you turn to him with a quizzical expression, urging him to go on. “you use to always tell me to look how pretty the moon was nearly every night. even if we weren’t together, you would text me to go outside and look at it,” he reminisced fondly.

“you always looked too,” you smile.

“honestly, i didn’t really get it at first,” he laughs, “but i loved you and it always made you happy whenever we looked at it together, so i made sure to look at it every night. even if we were fighting and weren’t with each other. even now, i still look up and think of you.”

your face grows hot as his words fluster you, the unexpected vulnerability catching you off guard, “thank you,” you respond gently, “for doing that for me. it always made me feel very loved.”

“i still do it. i think part of me will always love you no matter what.”

your breath hitches, your eyes widening as he looks away bashfully, not expecting or planning for those words to ever leave his mind. you let out a soft exhale through your nose, a shaken smile taking over your features, “i feel the same way too.”

quietness returns, neither of you sure how to continue the conversation as you reach your car, “well, this is me,” you break the silence, pointing to the car next to you, “thank you for today, it was… fun. i had a lot of fun.”

he nods, “me too,” taking in a deep breath, “do you… do you want to do this sometime again?” he asks meekly, fearing your response.

“yeah, i’d really like that, changbin.”

“okay, great. it’s… it’s a date?”

“it’s a date.”

#cinnamostar writes #changbin x reader #seo changbin x reader #skz changbin #stray kids changbin #skz x reader #skz fanfic #skz fluff #skz imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids seo changbin

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zepskies · 8 months

Text

Smoke Eater - Part 4

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

🔥 Series Masterlist

Song Inspo: “Take It to the Limit” by The Eagles

Word Count: 6,000 Tags/Warnings: Major fluff alert. Some angst(ish). First date part 2…and a second date?

Part 4: Rocky Road

You enjoyed dinner more than you expected to. Dean was funny, and charming, and deeper than you might’ve expected at first glance.

He also didn’t let you even think of paying any part of the bill. In his view, he’d asked you out, so your purse was staying the hell away from the little black booklet.

The only problem was, the freely flowing conversation you and Dean had all through dinner kind of stalled after you left the restaurant. He’d chosen a spot in downtown, so the two of you walked leisurely down the sidewalk, under rows of soft overhead string lights and a gentle chill on the evening air.

Dean had his hands in his pockets, and even that casual gait caught your eye. He looked good tonight in his black slacks and jacket. The dark blue buttoned-down worked for him too, just as well as the red plaid and jeans worked for him last night. Just like his gray lieutenant’s polo and navy pants worked for him.

In fact, you didn’t think there was anything that wouldn’t work for him.

“So, what’s next?” you asked. Dean glanced over at your question, looking a bit uncertain.

“Well, I’m gonna be honest. This is as far as I thought things through,” he said. “What do you want to do?”

You hummed and touched your chin. You paused and considered your surroundings. There were little shops, clubs, and restaurants on either side of the street. But then you spotted something nearby: a cart with a pink overhead. You smiled.

“You up for dessert?” you asked, pointing to the ice cream stand.

Dean shot you a slightly disbelieving look.

“Yeah? Ice cream after that fancy shmancy meal?”

You shrugged. “Why not? Come on.”

You looped your arm through his and tugged him along with you. He smiled at your enthusiasm and let you do it.

He later watched you try no less than five flavors of ice cream before you settled on the first one you tried—chocolate chip cookie dough. Which you ordered on a cone, with brownie pieces on top.

“The only way to do business,” you told him sagely. Dean grinned and held a hand to his chest.

“A woman after my own heart,” he said. “Here I thought you were gonna make fun of me for getting rocky road.”

“Why would I? I don’t discriminate when it comes to dessert…and only fun people get rocky road,” you countered.

“Tell that to my brother,” Dean scoffed. “He gets plain-ass chocolate chip. Every time.”

“Oh, you have a brother?” you noted with interest. “Any other siblings?”

“Nope,” he said, and accepted his cone from Steve, the guy operating the kiosk. “Just my giant little brother.”

“Giant?”

“…You’ll understand when you meet him.”

“When, not if. That’s encouraging,” you said with a smile. Dean shot you an amused grin back.

You held your cone with one hand while you rifled through your purse for your wallet with the other, but by the time you looked up, Dean was already handing over his credit card. Your brows furrowed.

“Dean—”

“This is all still part of the date,” he rationalized. His green eyes fairly danced with amusement, which you begrudgingly accepted with a sigh.

You then looked at your cone from all angles, trying to spy the best spot to start. You decided to go at it from the side. Though you tried to be graceful about it, you realized you hadn’t totally succeeded when a brownie piece almost fell off. You yelped and managed to catch it before it fell on your dress.

“Smooth,” Dean remarked. You shrugged and hummed happily while you took another bite.

“I told you. I don’t play when it comes to dessert,” you told him.

“Clearly,” he teased.

You briefly looked up at him through your lashes, making him smile. You really did have a pretty pair of eyes. And when your tongue came out a little to lick your lips, he was drawn to that as well.

And an even prettier mouth, he thought. Damn.

He raised a thumb to wipe away a bit of ice cream left behind on your lower lip. You blinked up at him, your eyes a bit wider, and he saw the bout of shyness in your resulting smile.

You shivered then with a bit of cold, whether from the ice cream or the chill on the air.

Dean’s mouth quirked, and he gave you his cone. “Hold this for a sec.”

You did so for him, but you watched him curiously as he shrugged out of his jacket. He wrapped it around your shoulders, like this was some kind of Hallmark moment.

Heh. Can’t believe Meg had it right, he thought, as he caught your blush.

“Thanks,” you said softly.

“Can’t let you catch cold in this little dress,” Dean reasoned. He tugged you in closer by the ends of his jacket.

Once again, his gaze was drawn to your face, your eyes, and finally your lips. You still held both ice cream cones between you two, but he could be careful enough to sample something else.

He started to lean in…

“Hey, man!” said Steve. “Don’t forget your wallet.”

Hesitating, Dean’s lips pursed as he turned his head to look back. Sure enough, he’d left his wallet on the counter. Letting out a subtle sigh, he glanced down and found you biting your lip in amusement.

He released you to go back and pluck his wallet out of Steve’s hand. The kid looked college age, and chilled out of his mind, like he didn’t realize he’d just interrupted another dude’s flow.

“Thank you,” said Dean, a bit pointedly.

Steve gave him a bored smile.

While you continued walking and finishing off your ice cream, you went with the flow of people coming and going; couples, families, people walking their dogs and with their children for an evening stroll.

You learned that Dean’s brother was a few years younger than him. The two shared an apartment, though Sam had a girlfriend, Eileen.

She worked at a specialty school, specifically with hearing impaired children, as she herself was deaf. Sam had learned a bit of ASL in school and worked on becoming fluent after they met. He was an assistant prosecutor working in the district attorney’s office.

“Wow. They sound like a power couple,” you remarked.

Dean inclined his head. “Yeah, they’re the smartest people I know, to be honest. They’ve been going strong for a few years now.”

And he learned that you were an only child, raised by your grandparents, and still living in your childhood home with your grandfather.

You admitted to him that after your grandmother passed away a few years ago, you just never found it within yourself to move out and leave George alone. He still needed you…and you probably needed him too, in some ways.

“Nothing wrong with that,” Dean said. "Taking care of your people is number one."

You gave him an appreciative look. He wanted to ask where your parents were in this situation, but he didn’t want to pry if you weren’t up for sharing. It felt like something even more personal.

You then stopped in front of a beautiful French bakery. It was closed, but you could still smell freshly baked bread and sweetness through the glass doors. You leaned against them while you peered inside.

“Ooh, I’ll need to come back here,” you said, before you remembered that you did in fact have company. Dean sidled up next to you and crossed his arms in amusement.

“You want a piece of cake or something?” he teased. “I’ll get my crowbar from the car.”

You grinned. “Not the jaws of life?”

“That’d be a bit extreme for a glass door, don’t you think?” He raised a brow at you.

“Don’t underestimate the lengths I’ll go to for quality cake,” you quipped back.

“All right,” he chuckled. “I like a girl who knows what she wants.”

You’d lost count of how many times you’d blushed tonight, but it had to be a record. You turned to him, but unconsciously kept a hand on the glass door.

“When I was in culinary school, I dreamed of opening up a bakery just like this,” you said. There was the gleam of memory and nostalgia in your eyes, and Dean found himself getting swept up in it.

“What happened to the dream?” he asked.

You sighed, letting your hand fall away from the glass. You hesitated to confide in him, to reveal this much of yourself. But there was something about this man that…well, that made you trust him. Even with this part. You tugged his jacket closer to your body.

“My grandma died about a month before I graduated,” you said. “She and my grandpa raised me…after my mom left.”

Dean’s gaze gentled, while his brows drew together. That just about answered his question about your parents.

“How old were you when she left?” he asked.

“Officially? Six years old,” you replied, sighing heavily. “She didn’t want responsibilities.”

He acknowledged this with a slow nod. He got the feeling your dad was never in the picture.

“Have you talked to her since?”

“No,” you said. “I lived with my grandparents from the beginning. She’d breeze in and out of town, from what little I remember. But one day, Gram finally asked her: When are you going to realize that you’re a mother?”

You glanced away for a moment. “Well, after that…I never saw her again.”

You took in a deeper breath to steady yourself. You didn’t often talk about this, let alone with someone you’d just met. Yet again, you felt safe enough with Dean.

“But after Gram passed, my grandfather was already retired,” you continued. “I needed a job, not a pipe dream.”

Dean had been listening to you with rapt attention. This was the first time he truly frowned. The wind was brushing strays of your hair across your forehead. He reached out and tucked a few strands behind your ear.

“Not all dreams are pipe dreams,” he said.

You flickered at a smile, looking up at him.

“Fair enough,” you replied.

Your eyes roamed his face this time, falling to his lips. You found yourself tilting up your chin when his face began bowing toward yours.

You felt his warm breath on your cheek, his hands grasping your arms, your hands gently resting against his sternum. By now, your heart was tripping up, double timing. And yet, you felt at ease as your eyes closed.

Only to be startled out of your wits when a dog yapped by your feet.

Even Dean jolted. His grip on your arms tightened on reflex. Both of you turned with wide eyes at the little Pomeranian that yanked at its leash. The woman holding it pulled her dog back.

“Sorry!” she called as she passed by. And she was still wrangling with the dog as she made her way down the sidewalk.

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. You read the thought across Dean’s frowning face. Though you felt the same way, you still smiled.

You leaned up and kissed his cheek instead.

“Thanks for listening,” you said. “I know that was heavy for a first date. I’m sorry.”

Dean’s eyes were warm when he looked down at you. You seemed to be honest and straightforward, which wasn’t a bad thing. In fact, he liked that a lot. In his experience, it wasn’t something he encountered very often with women.

Or maybe just with the women you’ve gone after, he thought.

“Nah, don’t apologize…but I’m sorry for your loss. I really am,” he said, thumbing at your cheek.

You could see that he meant it too. “Thank you.”

You ducked your head, fighting embarrassment. Not that he'd given to reason to feel embarrassed or ashamed, but you still couldn't believe he'd cracked you open like a book, without even trying. Andréa was sure to tease the hell out of you for that one.

You glanced back up and managed to spy something past Dean's shoulder. You smiled and took his hand.

“Oh look! There’s a bookstore open,” you said, and led him farther down the path.

Dean later followed you, once again with his hands in his pockets as you browsed through each aisle. He should’ve known you were a reader. But you were cute, he thought, as your fingers brushed across certain spines of books while you scanned their titles and covers.

You glanced over at him. “I’m sorry. This must be really boring for you right now. I’ll come back another time—”

“No, no. I’m along for the ride,” Dean said with a smirk. It earned another amused look from you.

“Well, buckle up then,” you teased. You led him down to the Mystery section—murder mysteries being your favorite, you told him. He raised a brow at that.

“What? Were you expecting romance novels with telenovela-style covers?” you asked. And you draped yourself across the bookshelf, holding the back of your hand up to your forehead, like you were about to “faint.”

Dean shook his head at you, but his eyes were dancing again.

“Nah, give me a juicy mystery,” you said, as you continued to browse. “Clues, evidence, surprise twists, villain reveals…”

“Well, I’ll say that real life Magnum P.I. ain’t all that fun,” Dean remarked. That made you raise your head from the book you were inspecting and look over at him.

“Hmm, that sounds like personal experience,” you said.

He hesitated, but he eventually nodded. “Yeah. My dad’s a cop. A detective, actually, in homicide. Real Law & Order, you could say.”

Your eyes grew comically wide, and Dean had to laugh.

“Now that is interesting,” you said. “How long has he been a cop?”

“Heh. My whole life,” Dean replied. There was something behind his eyes that you didn’t miss.

“Hmm, something tells me being a cop's kid isn't all it’s cracked up to be,” you said. "Bet you couldn't get away with anything, huh?"

He smirked. "Not a damn thing. I coulda sworn my dad had cameras planted all over the house."

But no, his dad was just that good at reading him and Sam. Granted, it wasn't often that they tried to pull one over on the old man, but their teenage years had been...interesting.

You laughed lightly while you continued to browse.

“Your dad was tough growing up?” you asked. Dean considered you, and your question with a tilt of his head.

“My dad’s a good guy,” he said. “The best at his job. And he’s the toughest son of a bitch I know.”

You knew then that there was a story there, or maybe several, but you didn’t want to push it. Dean seemed to be at the edge of what he was willing to get into on the subject.

So you just nodded and chose a couple of books, which you insisted on paying for yourself. Unlike a meal or dessert, he hadn’t participated in this part, you reasoned.

“That’s not how that works,” Dean said, but he begrudgingly let you pay for your own books. You carried the bag out of the store with a satisfied smile on your face.

Dean shook his head with a smile of his own. Though he did take your free hand in his on the way back to the car.

Dean meant to take you back to your house…but maybe you weren’t quite ready for the night to end just yet. He was driving his sleek tank of a car down the main road when you got an idea.

“Oh, we’re going to drive over the river,” you remembered. “There’s this little spot right before it where you can pull over and park, see the skyline… Have you seen it?”

Dean glanced over at you with a gleam in his eye. “I have. It’s definitely a sight to see.”

“I haven’t seen it in a while,” you said.

A smile curved his lips. “Well, that’s a damn shame. Let’s fix that.”

The Impala soon pulled into a clearing off the side of the road, just before the Kansas River. True to your memory, there was a beautiful view of the city skyline. The half-moon above sprinkled light across the water. The waves were otherwise black and choppy.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen it at night,” Dean said. You turned to him and smiled.

“Thanks for tonight. I had a really good time,” you said.

He raised his brows at you. “We’re not done yet. You’re the one who wanted to sightsee.”

You chuckled and nodded in agreement. You were feeling a bit warm with the heating vents on you, so you unclipped your seatbelt and shrugged off Dean’s coat. You folded it up nicely and draped it across your lap.

You didn’t notice it, but Dean’s gaze drifted over to you when you bared your shoulders again, revealing smooth skin and the tantalizing neckline of your dress. Even in the dim lighting, the vibrant green caught his eye.

But it wasn’t until the car stopped rumbling so much that you noticed the radio playing hard rock in the background. It sounded like a lot of screaming and guitars to you.

“What the hell are we listening to?” you said.

“Hmm, not an Van Halen fan?” Dean replied, giving you a chiding eye. “Aw, I don’t know if I can trust you if you can’t appreciate Sammy Hagar.”

“Oh no,” you said with a laugh. “He likes mullet rock.”

“Yes, he does,” Dean grinned. “The bigger, crazier hair the better.”

You rolled your eyes. “All right, Hendrix. Mind if we change the station?”

You hand reached for the radio knob, but Dean’s hand batted yours away.

“Ey, ey!” he said, though a smile raised the corners of his lips. “Driver picks the music.”

You full on laughed then.

“Okay, but can we please listen to something less grating?” you asked.

Dean snorted. “All right, your highness. Let me see what I’ve got…”

You watched him curiously as he reached over on his side and pulled out a few ancient relics.

“Oh my God. You still listen to cassettes?” you asked in disbelief. Dean shot you another grin as he sorted through a handful of them. He considered you for a moment, debating his decision.

He chose a cassette and popped it in. Soon, the rhythmic melody of a guitar filtered through the speakers. You tilted your head.

“The Eagles?” you guessed. The song was familiar…

“All alone at the end of the evening, and the bright lights have faded to blue,” crooned from the speakers. “I was thinking 'bout a woman who might have loved me. I never knew…”

“Wow, all right,” Dean said, grinning. “Guess I haven’t lost you to the Bieber pop masses just yet.”

You gave him an amused look.

“My grandfather is an Eagles fan,” you smirked back. Though you patted the Impala’s dashboard. “But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you’ve got an old soul.”

“I prefer the term ‘vintage,’” Dean quipped. He noted the way you seemed to be admiring his car. “My dad played this stuff all the time when Sam and I were kids…I guess the car’s another thing he passed down to me.”

You looked over at him then. “Yeah? He give it to you as a graduation gift or something?”

He inclined his head, brushing a hand through his hair.

“Sort of,” he said. You smiled then, shifting towards him in your seat.

“Ooh, that sounds like a story.”

He acknowledged that with a nod, though he hesitated. “You really wanna hear it?”

You rested an elbow on the armrest between his chair and yours, chin in hand, staring up at him encouragingly. Your brows raised in a “go ahead” gesture.

With an amused sigh, Dean nodded.

“Believe it or not, after I graduated high school, I wasn’t sold on the whole college thing.” His lips twisted wryly. “That was more Sam’s beat. So my dad thought it’d be good if I followed in his.”

Your eyes widened. “You were going to be a police officer?”

Dean smiled. “Well, I got into the Academy.”

That was where he met Cas, all those years ago. First, they were sort of silently competing on their scores, each wanting to be the best in the class. For Dean, it was because John Winchester had been the best. To this day, he still held some of the top scores in the region.

Meanwhile, Cas had come from a strict, religious family that drove him to succeed in whatever he put his mind to. Cas hadn’t liked Dean’s casual, joking, surface-level arrogance, thinking he wasn’t taking it seriously.

Dean had thought the guy had a serious pole stuck up his ass.

“I was about halfway through, but I just…my heart wasn’t in it,” Dean said. “Cas could see it. He asked me why the hell I was working so hard if I didn’t really want this.”

“To beat me?” Cas had asked. “To level your dad’s scores? To prove you can be him? Frankly, that sounds idiotic. Not to mention, utterly pathetic.”

Dean hadn’t wanted to face it at first, but he’d known then that his archenemy was right.

“You know…up until then, I don’t think I’d ever considered what the hell it was I wanted,” he admitted. His fingers drummed on the Impala’s steering wheel.

He knew you were listening. Just listening, like you were taking in his every word. He didn’t know why, but your quiet attention made him keep trying to fill the silence.

“So I quit,” he said. “Didn’t tell my dad…but Sam was the one who put the Fire Academy paperwork on my desk. Once I worked up the nerve, I took the firefighter test on the sly.”

“Was your dad mad?” you asked.

Dean chuckled. “At first.”

It had also been the first time he felt like he’d truly impressed his father. Namely, by not doing what John expected of him. That was more Sam’s territory.

“But after I made it through the Fire Academy, he gave me Baby,” said Dean.

He laid a fond hand on the steering wheel. It hadn't been the first time John said he was proud of Dean, but that day was still a good one, etched into Dean's memories. Sometimes it blocked out the darker ones.

“Baby?” you asked in bemusement.

He blinked, looking over at you with a quirk of his lips.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, and swiped a hand over his mouth.

That, and the way his gaze dropped a bit, you thought he seemed a bit embarrassed. Not by his old-ass taste in music, but by the fact that he’d named his car.

What a giant dork, you thought, as your smile grew.

Leveraging a hand on the armrest, you leaned over and kissed his cheek for the second time tonight. This time you lingered a moment, leaving the mark of your lipstick behind.

“It’s a good name,” you said.

Dean smiled back at you. Right about then, that was about the best thing you could’ve said.

He raised a hand to your cheek, brushing the back of his hand along your jaw. He settled on gently taking your chin between his fingers, before he leaned in and finally kissed you.

It started out slow as his lips moved against yours with purpose. Your eyes closed at the feel of him. Each new touch drew you in further, making your head swim with warmth, and your heart begin to race.

You unconsciously reached out and grasped the collar of his shirt. His hand moved to cradle your cheek and guide your head to the side, so he could deepen the kiss. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, and his tongue soon swept across to sooth it. You couldn't help the small, pleasant shudder that ran through you.

You weren’t sure who stopped first, but when your eyes eventually opened again, it was to those talented lips curving into a smile.

“Not gonna lie, I’ve been trying to do that all night,” he said, chuckling a bit.

You couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled up into your throat and managed to escape. “I know.”

You leaned against him, with your hand still curled in his shirt. Your eyes briefly lowered.

At the delightfully hair-raising feeling of his thumb brushing back and forth against your cheek, you glanced back up at him. Your smile became more flirtatious, yet still with a bit of nervous energy.

“Want to reenact the moment?” you asked.

Dean grinned and pulled you in again, flush against him this time. All while his music continued to play. You recognized another one from your grandpa’s collection. This time, you didn’t mind.

This man might’ve been vintage in his tastes, but his touch made you feel brand new.

“What would you say…about doing this again sometime?” Dean asked.

That is, between feverish kisses on your front porch. You’d been trying to say goodnight for a few minutes now, but every time you tried, the two of you kept getting pulled back into the feel of one another.

He held you close against him, his hands molded to the curve up your hip and pressing into your lower back. Your fingers were alternatively tangling and soothing into his hair. You clung to his shoulders as his lips and tongue continued to rob you of your breath, as well as your good sense.

You were making out with this man under the porch light like you were a teenager afraid of getting caught by your grandfather. (He was probably asleep by now anyway.)

And you couldn’t remember the last time you’d been kissed like this, touched like this. The evening chill spread goosebumps across your arms, but your insides were warm and champagne-bubbly. All the while, his lips made slow, sensuous movements against yours.

When you caught a moment to pull away, just to take in a few needed breaths, your eyes flicked up to his.

“I’d say make an appointment,” you teased. “I’m a busy woman.”

You tapped his chin with a finger, making him smile.

“Oh, yeah? Can you pencil me in…say, tomorrow at 7:00?” he asked.

“Tomorrow.” You raised a brow. “Anxious, are we?”

His smile faltered, just a little. “Too soon?”

“…No,” you admitted. If you were honest, you wanted to see him too. “7:00 is good.”

Dean was about to reply when the porch lights flickered overhead. Your brows furrowing, you turned and spotted your grandfather in the window by the front door. You didn't like the look of his smile, hinting with mischief.

“Oh my God,” you muttered.

“Did I make you miss curfew or something?” Dean joked.

Embarrassment began to heat up your face in record time. You groaned and shook your head as you turned in his arms.

“My grandfather, ladies and gentlemen.” Your lips quirked. “And his incurable wit.”

Dean’s hands fell away from you so you could reach for the door, just as you heard it unlocking from the other side. George cracked the door open a few inches and peeked his head out.

“If you wanna put on a show, you should sell tickets,” he quipped, giving you and Dean a raised brow.

“Grandpa, really?”

He laughed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Just kiddin’,” he said. “Hey there. Heard you’re the fireman who saved the cheeky damsel in distress here. How many does that make for ya this week?”

You sighed. And you pleaded with Dean, via your eyes, to be patient here.

“Well, wouldn’t call her a damsel, but she’s certainly the prettiest one so far,” Dean told your grandfather, though he shot you a teasing wink.

You couldn't help a smile. “Yeah, he’s got a caravan of us waiting back at the station.”

Dean chuckled along with George, who then gave him a more appraising look. Dean knew when he was being silently judged. He met the older man’s gaze directly.

“Anyway, sorry for crashing in. Glad to meet you, son. I’m George,” said your grandfather. He stepped out fully to shake Dean’s hand.

Dean took it with a firm, but relaxed grip. He nodded respectfully.

“Good to meet you. I’m Dean.”

“So I’ve heard,” George said, his tone a little enigmatic. “You plannin’ on seeing her again? ‘Cause I think you might be a special one. She had me approve no less than five different outfits before she decided. And I said, ‘Hun, if he’s half a man at all he wouldn’t care if you were dressed in a woolly potato sack and nothin' else—’”

“All right, is that Wheel of Fortune on back there?” you quickly cut in. A wilder blush was taking root down to your neck. You pointed back inside, where you could hear the TV playing. “I think your show’s back on.”

George’s eyes widened like he was catching on to you, reading between your lines. He “apologized” with placating hands.

“Okay, that’s my cue. Though I’ll have you know, it’s Shark Week on the Discovery channel. Wheel of Fortune’s for old people,” he quipped.

Dean smirked. “Hell yeah. Gotta love Shark Week.”

“Right?” George gestured at him as if he’d just found a kindred spirit. “A whole damn week of sharks.”

“Great! Well, sounds like the show’s back from commercial,” you hinted. Actually, you hoped he recorded those episodes. You loved a good nature documentary that made you fear the beach for another six months.

“All right, I got it.” Grinning to himself, George gave Dean one last tip of his imaginary hat. “G’night, you two.”

“Good night,” you and Dean replied, though yours was distinctly tighter, while he was more amused. He glanced down at you after the door clicked shut.

You bit your lip, meeting his eyes. “Sorry. No matter how old I get, that’s still his way of being protective.”

“As he should,” Dean said, chuckling a little. He bucked a gentle fist under your chin. “You’re like a daughter to him, right?”

Your lingering embarrassment began to even out into a smile.

“Yeah, basically.”

“With a sharp shooter like you, I’ll bet he doesn’t have a lot of chances to look out for you,” he remarked.

You inclined your head at that.

“Maybe,” you replied. You reached out to straighten the lines of his jacket. You’d managed to wrinkle him a bit since hanging out in his car by the river earlier.

“So…you said something about 7:00 tomorrow?” you asked tentatively.

Dean grinned. But it soon faded as reality seemed to interject. “Ah…you know what, let’s do 7:30.”

His hands found your waist, but they soon slid around to hold you securely in his arms. It made a heady feeling rush through you, down to the tips of your fingers. You soothed through the mess you made of his hair and rested your hands on his arms afterwards.

“Are you sure?” you asked. Dean thought about it for a moment.

“Let’s do 8:00, just to be safe. I get off work at 6:30,” he said. He wanted to give plenty of wiggle room, just in case something cropped up.

You agreed, even though this aspect of things had the potential to make you anxious. You knew his job was unpredictable at times, but you were a planner, organized and detail oriented. And you did not like the unknown. Hence your mildly anal tendency to make checklists.

Dean could see the wheels turning in your head though.

“Don’t worry. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. When he gave his word, he fully intended to keep it.

So he kissed away the reservations he saw in your eyes.

Despite the pure magic that had been last night, today, you had a suspicious feeling.

It was 8:30 in the evening, and Dean still wasn’t knocking at your door. He hadn’t responded to your text either.

You were ready for dinner. This time in a black dress, nice, short, and enticing, as your grandma had long ago impressed on you: every woman should have a little black dress.

At 9:00, you gave into your instincts and tried to call him. It rang for a while, but ultimately went to voicemail. You sat on the living room couch with a glass of wine in one hand, your cell in the other, and you frowned.

You still hadn’t moved the vase of tulips from the coffee table, and you noticed them again. They were starting to open up nicely.

Grandpa George glanced over at you from his favorite chair, watching your mood begin to sour with both annoyance and worry.

“He’s probably just caught up on a call,” he said, and raised a teasing brow. “Maybe saving another girl from a crapped out elevator.”

You shot him a droll look. “Thanks. But yeah, he probably just got held up at work…not standing me up at all.”

Logically, you knew it was probably the first option, but the less secure part of yourself wondered.

George relented when he saw how pensive you looked, with a tinge of impatience.

“You must really like this guy,” he said.

You looked over at him with a soft frown, but you didn’t answer. It told your grandfather everything he needed to know. Even with the protective walls you tended to put up whenever you were anxious, he knew you better than anyone.

“It may not be what you think. Just relax,” he said. “He’ll call eventually. And when he does, let him actually talk.”

You huffed. But your lips formed a smile as you nodded in agreement.

Whatever was holding Dean up, you just hoped he was safe.

However, by 10:00 p.m., you were both worried and irritated. You changed out of your dress, but you kept your makeup on in one last ditch effort of hope.

You laid in bed and watched Friends reruns. Even though you knew every joke, it usually still managed to make you laugh.

Not this time, unfortunately.

But, Dean finally called around 10:30. You let it ring a few times before you answered your cell.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” you greeted flatly.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he said. His tone was already full of remorse, but you couldn’t help it. You were feeling petty.

“I don’t think you get to ‘sweetheart’ me tonight,” you said.

“Look, uh…I’m sorry I’m not there,” said Dean. “I really am. I wasn’t trying to do this to you.”

…Damn it, you actually believed him. You heard the sincerity in his voice, along with how tired he seemed to be. And that was before he even got to the explanation.

“There was a five-car pileup on the road, and someone got T-boned on either side,” he said. “It took us basically all night to clear it up and get the injured out of there. Was a big mess. I just left the station a few minutes ago.”

Your irritation soon fizzled into shame. You should’ve known.

“That’s…a really good reason,” you said.

“Just let me shower and I’ll come right out to you.”

You sighed. “It’s okay, Dean. Let’s just try for another time. You must be tired…”

It was his turn to sigh.

“I know it ain’t okay,” he said eventually. “I can hear you clear as day.”

Your lips quirked wryly.

“How can I complain, Dean? You were literally saving people.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re all dolled up, and I’m not gonna get to see it,” he said. A bit of his usual charm and good humor crept into his voice. It made you smile.

“And I really put some effort into this smokey eye,” you quipped. You also curled a strand of styled hair around your finger absently.

“I’m gonna pretend I know what that means, but it sounds sexy as hell,” he replied.

Your smile deepened. “Okay, what about Tuesday night?”

“Hmm…sorry, that day’s no good. I’ve got a 24-hour shift Tuesday to Wednesday,” he said. “What about Thursday night?”

“Ah…I’ve got an appointment after work,” you said.

Really it was George’s doctor’s appointment, but you wanted to go with him this time to make sure the doctor was doing his best to diagnose George’s persistent cough.

He’d also been more tired lately, you’d noticed, even after a full night’s sleep. He was blaming it on old age, but you knew your grandfather. You knew when he was downplaying to avoid the doctor, or to avoid worrying you.

“Friday?” you posed.

“I’ve got another long shift,” Dean said.

Damn it. It seemed like his schedule and yours wasn’t very compatible. You were starting to get discouraged…

“Oh, wait,” Dean said, his tone perking up. “I forgot. I’ve got this Monday off, during the day…why don’t I take you out to lunch?”

“Lunch?” You considered it with a frown. “It can be hard for me to leave my desk. I have to take a lot of calls.”

Most days you worked straight through your lunch hour. But Dean’s reply was smooth.

“That’s all right,” he said. “How about I bring takeout? Office picnic.”

Slowly, you smiled.

“Okay. I’ll see you on Monday then,” you agreed.

“Yes, you will,” Dean said. His tone was firm. “You can count on it.”

AN: Okay! How did you like part 2 of their first date? (And Dean meeting George for the first time lol.)

Hopefully round two of their second date will go better. Though Dean finally meets the infamous boss...

Next Time:

“Hey, what’s your progress on the Greenway account…oh,” said Nick, pausing where he stood.

He took note of Dean in the room and straightened his posture. His expression changed from its lazy gait, to a more tightened one. You swore you could spot a tinge of annoyance as well, like he was surprised that he hadn’t caught you alone in your office.

“I see I’m interrupting,” he said.

Holding in a sigh, you looked over at Dean and found him similarly assessing Nick.

“This is Dean. You might remember him from last week, when the elevator broke down. He’s one of the firefighters who got me out,” you said.

Your hand fell on your companion's arm. “Dean, this is—”

“Her boss,” Nick said. He seemed to lighten up and give Dean a smile, reaching over to shake the man’s hand. Dean obliged him.

“So I’ve heard,” he said.

Keep Reading: PART 5

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

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#Rocky Road #Smoke Eater #Part 4 #dean winchester #Firefighter!Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x you #firefighter AU #dean winchester AU #spn #supernatural #zepskies writes

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totheblood · 8 months

Text

begging for rain. (three)

󠁐# THREE; the harder that it takes to undo

PAIRING: ex!ellie williams x nextdoorneighbor!reader

SUMMARY: moving to a new town can be tough, especially as you are trying to hold everything in your life together. after you meet ellie, your life completely changes, but for the better? well that's still up in the air

WARNINGS: mentions of death, grief, related subjects; cursing, mentions of drinking/drugs, mentions of s*x,

WORD COUNT: 4.6k

A/N : ok this was the longest chapter i've written to date so... please enjoy.... ONE AI AUDIOS IN THE FIC ! please please please like and reblog/reply/send asks, comments, the whole nine yards… it is so appreciated!

TWO YEARS AGO

It felt weird to be in Ellie’s house.

Ellie opened the door to a cozy living room with warm beige walls and wicker furniture that had been well-worn by time. An old acoustic guitar leaned against one wall and a record player sat atop an end table, surrounded by piles of vintage vinyl. The air was thick with the aroma of coffee and old books, creating a comforting ambiance. Family photos and posters dotted the walls, giving an insight into Ellie's life that made you feel like a intruder but also made you want to know more.

"Nice place," you said, removing your shoes at the door.

"Thanks," Ellie smiled, leading you to the living room. "You can drop your stuff there. We'll study at the table."

You took a seat at the sturdy oak dining table and ran your fingers over its smooth surface before settling into it. Scattered papers littered the table, some lined with handwritten lyrics, others with doodles intertwined in colored ink. You opened up your English books and laid out your homework, feeling a sense of warmth emanating from the room. The aged furniture added an air of familiarity, like you were being invited into Ellie's private world. Ellie seemed to be working on physics homework, while you had an English essay on Shakespeare to tackle. The juxtaposition wasn't lost on you—Ellie with equations and you with Elizabethan English.

You both settled into your work, the atmosphere tinged with concentration. Occasionally, your eyes would drift towards Ellie, watching her brows furrow in thought or her lips move silently as she read through her notes. Each time, you'd catch yourself and refocus on your own work.

"So, how are you finding the essay?" she finally broke the silence.

"It's... okay, I guess. Mrs. Porter has a way of making Shakespeare sound like rocket science."

Ellie chuckled. "Ah, the age-old struggle. To be or not to be confused, that is the question."

You laughed, and for a moment, the tension of the day seemed to lift. "You're not so bad at this, you know," you said. "Maybe you should consider a career in stand-up."

"And give up my dream of becoming a rockstar physicist?" she feigned surprise. "Never."

You smiled at her enthusiasm. "A rockstar physicist, huh? That's a first."

"Well, what about you? Any grand plans?"

You hesitated, thinking about your dad for a moment. You blinked, looking down at the book in front of you before looking back up at Ellie. "I'm not sure. I used to think I had it all figured out, but now... everything's so uncertain."

Ellie put down her pen and looked at you, her green eyes softening. "Uncertainty isn't always bad, you know. Sometimes it's just room for something new, something better."

You looked at her, really looked at her, and felt something shift inside you. "That's pretty wise for a 17-year-old."

She blushed a little, turning her attention back to her notebook. "Well, don't spread it around. I have a reputation to maintain. Plus, I’m almost 18."

The rest of the study session went smoothly. You’d occasionally sigh and drop your head in frustration, making Ellie stifle a giggle and demand you get back to work. You had only known her for a day and was already falling into a rhythm with her. You didn’t want to go home, but the sun was beginning to set and you wanted time to rest. Time to think about the day you had and try to make sense of it. When it was time to leave, Ellie walked you to the door.

"Thanks for coming over. It was fun," she said, her hands twisting together.

"Yeah, I had a good time too," you replied, feeling a strange mix of happiness and reluctance to leave.

As you stepped out into the cool evening air, Ellie's words echoed in your mind: "Uncertainty isn't always bad... it's just room for something new, something better." And as you walked back across the dirt path to your house, you couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, something new and better had already begun.

You walked into your room, shutting the door behind you as if to seal off the world outside. It was your sanctuary, a little haven where you could breathe, think, and just be. You tossed your backpack onto the bed and sank into your chair, letting out a sigh as you looked around. Your room was still a mix of unpacked boxes and half-arranged furniture—a physical representation of your current state of mind, unsettled yet hopeful.

Picking up your phone, you noticed you had an unread Instagram DM. Your heart skipped a beat; could it be Ellie? Unlocking your phone, you saw the message was from Ingrid. Curiosity piqued, you opened.

ingrid.xoxo: Hey there, newbie. How was your first day?

You felt strange reading her message. Like it was something you weren’t supposed to be doing. Was she just being friendly or was there something more? You quickly typed back.

y/nsworld: hey! It was a little overwhelming but good overall. how was your day?

Almost instantly, she replied.

ingrid.xoxo: Same old, same old. But seeing a fresh face around made it more interesting. 😉

The winking emoji caught your attention. Was she flirting? A little flutter of excitement mixed with confusion settled in your stomach.

Before you could process it further, the front door opened and closed loudly. It was your mom, finally home from work. You heard her footsteps coming up the stairs, and a few seconds later, she knocked on your door.

"Come in," you called.

The door swung open and your mom stepped in, her face tired but lighting up when she saw you. "Hey, sweetheart. How was your first day at the new school?"

You looked at her and smiled. "It was good, Mom. Made some new friends, and Ellie from next door is really nice. I went there and studied after school."

"That's wonderful," she said, her eyes shining with relief. "I was so worried you'd have a hard time adjusting."

"I mean, it's still the first day, but so far, so good," you said, shrugging. The relief on your mom’s face made you uneasy. You wanted to make this transition easy for both of you, but there was a newfound pressure building inside of you. You had to make it work here, even if you were unhappy. There was no escaping this place, and you suddenly felt trapped. Before your mind could go any further, she was speaking again.

"That's my brave girl," she said, coming over to give you a hug. "I'm so proud of you."

As she left the room and wished you a goodnight with a firm kiss pressed to the top of your head, you sat back and sighed. Your phone buzzed again. Another message from Ingrid.

ingrid.xoxo: So, got any plans for the weekend? Maybe you'd like a tour guide to show you around. 😊

There it was again, that undercurrent of something more than just friendliness. You found yourself smiling, both intrigued and uncertain. It was as if life, in its own whimsical way, was presenting new possibilities, each more complicated than the last.

You glanced back at the door, then at your phone, then at the unpacked boxes still sitting in your room. Everything felt like a question mark, and as Ellie had wisely noted, maybe that wasn't such a bad thing after all.

Lying back on your bed, you stared up at the ceiling, pondering your response to Ingrid, your new friendships, and the unpredictability of life itself. Uncertainty, as it turns out, could indeed be the room for something new, something better.

And so, with a mix of excitement and apprehension, you typed out your reply to Ingrid, hitting send before you could second-guess yourself.

y/nsworld: a tour guide sounds fun. i'm in. :)

PRESENT DAY

When Ellie's text popped up on your phone two days ago, you almost deleted it without reading it. The mere sight of her name on your screen was like a splinter you couldn't remove—small but persistently painful. She wrote that she missed your friendship, and though you wanted to scoff at her audacity, a part of you hesitated. Her words, "Can we at least talk? Just as friends?" echoed in your mind. Against your better judgment, a wave of nostalgia washed over you, and before you knew it, you found yourself typing, "Fine, but this doesn't mean anything." Now, as you stepped into the quaint coffee shop where so many of your past memories were brewed, you questioned that decision.

"You're early," Ellie remarked, her voice as flat as the expression on her face.

"I had nothing better to do," you responded, matching her tone as you stepped into the coffee shop. It was almost empty, the aroma of freshly ground coffee mingling with the subtle tension that had settled between you two.

"Of course, you didn't," Ellie sighed, sliding a cup of coffee your way across the wooden table. On it was marked with your order, two pumps of hazelnut, two pumps of vanilla, and one pump of almond, extra cream.

You looked at the cup, then back at Ellie. "You remembered how I like my coffee."

"I'm not completely useless."

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip while simultaneously biting your tongue. You had every right to tell her she was useless, but you refrained. It was perfect, just the way you liked it. "What do you want, Ellie?"

Ellie sighed, looking uncomfortable for a moment before speaking, "I wanted to talk. About us."

You almost snorted into your coffee. "Us? There is no 'us'. Not anymore."

"I know I messed up, okay? But can't we at least—"

"Messed up?" you cut her off, feeling the familiar surge of anger rise within you. "You didn't just 'mess up', Ellie. You broke something. Something that can't be fixed."

Ellie flinched as if you had slapped her. The look on her face almost making you feel guilty. But she didn’t have that right anymore, and you weren’t about to let her back in.

"I know. And I'll regret that for the rest of my life. But can't we at least try to be civil? For the sake of our friends, if not for us?"

You looked at her, really looked at her, and for a moment you were back in her living room, struggling with physics homework and discussing the uncertainties of life. Back when things were simpler, easier. But that was a different time, a different you, and most importantly, a different Ellie.

"Being civil is a far cry from what you're suggesting," you said finally, breaking the silence.

Ellie sighed. "I know I don't deserve a second chance. Hell, I don't even deserve your friendship. But can't we at least try to be... something?"

You stared at her, pondering her words. The Ellie sitting in front of you now seemed so different from the girl you had fallen for. And yet, there were moments, fleeting seconds, when you could almost see traces of the old Ellie—the one who made you laugh, who made you think, who made you feel like you were the only person in the world.

But those traces were just that—fleeting and insubstantial. The real Ellie, the one sitting in front of you, was a reminder of a chapter you had painfully closed.

"We can try," you said finally, "but I can't promise anything."

Ellie nodded, a mixture of relief and regret flashing across her face. "I guess that's all I can ask for."

As you both sipped your coffee in silence, the weight of what was left unsaid hung heavy in the air. And yet, for the first time in a long time, it felt like you could both breathe a little easier.

But as Ellie's eyes met yours, you couldn't help but wonder: in the quest for something new, something better, had you both lost something irreplaceable? There was something substantially broken between the two of you now, innocence on both parts lost.

TWO YEARS AGO

You found yourself standing in front of your bathroom mirror, staring at your reflection as you pondered what to wear for this so-called 'tour' with Ingrid. You wondered if you should aim for casual or if Ingrid, with her meticulous style, would expect something more. After rummaging through your wardrobe, you settled on a simple pair of jeans and a loose-fitting white shirt. Casual, yet presentable. You threw on a light jacket, considering the morning chill, and took one last look in the mirror. Satisfied but not entirely confident, you grabbed your phone and headed downstairs. Your mom was sitting at the dining room table, bowl of cereal in front of her with her spoon in one hand and phone in the other.

"Going out?" Your mom looked up from her phone, her eyes scanning your outfit.

"Yeah, a girl from school is showing me around town."

"Ah, great. Text me if you need anything." Her eyes returned to her phone, but not before you caught the fleeting look of relief. There the pressure was again, and in turn your sinking stomach.

"See you later, Mom," you said, heading for the door.

"Have fun, sweetheart!" she called out as you closed the door behind you.

As you approached Ingrid's car, you noticed her already leaning against it. She was wearing what could only be described as the epitome of 'casual chic'—ripped jeans, a designer top, and a pair of sunglasses perched effortlessly on her head. She looked up from her phone and greeted you with a broad, almost rehearsed, smile.

"Ready for your grand tour?" Ingrid inquired, her eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than you were comfortable with.

"Ready as I'll ever be," you replied, cautiously optimistic about the day ahead.

The interior of Ingrid's car was as meticulously maintained as her appearance. The leather seats were pristine, and the air was scented with something floral, bordering on overpowering. She started the engine, and you were off.

The first few minutes were filled with awkward silence. You sensed that Ingrid was waiting for you to initiate conversation, but you were too wrapped up in your thoughts to open your mouth to speak. Finally, she broke the ice.

"So, first stop, the infamous Longview Park. You'll love it—it's where everyone hangs out," she said, her voice tinged with enthusiasm that sounded slightly rehearsed.

"That sounds fun," you responded, forcing a smile.

As you drove through the town, Ingrid began to pepper you with questions. They started off harmless enough—questions about your old town, your interests, your favorite movies. But as the drive continued, the questions began to probe deeper.

"So, why did you move here? If you don't mind me asking," she added hastily, as though realizing she might be venturing into sensitive territory.

"My dad passed away. We couldn’t afford to live there anymore, so we had to move," you replied, trying to maintain composure. You had rehearsed this response, but it still felt like you were ripping off a Band-Aid every time you said it.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Ingrid responded, her voice softening for the first time that morning. But before you could reply, she was off again. "Are you seeing anyone?"

The abrupt switch in topic caught you off-guard. "Uh, no, not right now," you stammered.

"Really? Someone as hot as you? I find that hard to believe," she said, her eyes briefly meeting yours before returning to the road.

"Um, thanks," you muttered, not entirely sure how to interpret the compliment.

Ingrid seemed to take your discomfort as a cue to change the subject. "We're almost at Longview Park. It's truly the heart of our community," she declared, as if rehearsed.

As you pulled into the parking lot of Longview Park, you took a deep breath. It was time to see what this 'heart of the community' was all about.

he car rolled to a stop, and Ingrid switched off the engine, her eyes twinkling like she was unveiling a secret treasure. "And here we are—Longview Park. It's like the social hub of our high school world."

You opened the car door and stepped out, looking around. The park was sizable, dotted with large oaks and willows that offered generous shade. A playground occupied one corner, bustling with the laughter of children, while a pond shimmered peacefully in the mid-morning sun. People were everywhere—jogging, playing Frisbee, or simply lounging on the grass. It had a communal feel.

Ingrid led you along a gravel path, her steps confident and rehearsed as if she'd walked this path a thousand times before. "See that gazebo over there?" she pointed, "That's like the unofficial meet-up spot for parties and hangouts. And over there is the infamous 'Lovers' Lane' where couples go to... well, you know."

Her words were punctuated with a suggestive wink that made you feel slightly uncomfortable. You chuckled nervously, trying to dispel the awkwardness.

As you walked, you couldn't help but notice the way people looked at Ingrid—long enough to show interest but not too long to risk her noticing. She seemed to command attention effortlessly, and you couldn't tell if it was her charisma or if you were completely missing something

"Everyone loves to be here on weekends," Ingrid continued, her tone casual but her eyes scanning the area, as if looking for someone or something in particular. "It's a great place to catch up with friends or make new ones. Like we're doing right now."

She shot you a smile, the kind that was meant to be endearing but felt slightly off-mark. You returned it nonetheless. "It's a nice place. Very... lively," you said, choosing your words carefully.

As you neared the pond, you spotted a familiar face sitting on one of the benches—Cat. And next to her, unmistakably, was Ellie. They seemed engrossed in conversation, their faces inches apart. A pang of something—was it jealousy?—stabbed at you, but you quickly brushed it aside.

"Hey, look who it is!" Ingrid's voice brought you back to reality. She had followed your gaze and was now staring directly at Ellie and Cat. "Want to go say hi?"

You hesitated. The last thing you wanted was an awkward run-in, but before you could voice your concerns, Ingrid had already started walking toward them.

"Hey Cat, Ellie!" she called out, her voice unnaturally high. Both heads turned in your direction, and the range of emotions that crossed their faces in that brief moment was unsettling—surprise, confusion, and something else you couldn't quite put your finger on.

"Hey Ingrid," Ellie finally spoke, her eyes meeting yours for a fleeting second before returning to Ingrid. "What brings you here?"

"Just giving our new resident a grand tour of Longview Park," Ingrid replied, her arm casually draping over your shoulder. You felt a shiver run down your spine but chose to ignore it.

"That's nice of you," Cat chimed in, her eyes narrowing slightly as they settled on you. You couldn't tell if she was being sincere or just sizing you up.

"Yeah, it's been fun," you said, forcing a smile. But your eyes met Ellie's once more, and the unspoken words hung heavily in the air between you.

"Well, we won't keep you," Ingrid said abruptly, as if sensing the tension. "Lots more to see. Come on," she tugged at your arm lightly, and you followed her back to the path, leaving Ellie and Cat behind.

As you walked away, you felt Ellie's gaze burning into your back. You wanted to look back, to catch one last glimpse of her, but you resisted. Whatever was or wasn't happening between you and Ellie would have to wait. Right now, you were on Ingrid's turf, and you couldn't help but feel like a pawn in a much larger game.

"Shall we continue?" Ingrid asked, breaking the silence.

"Sure," you replied, but your thoughts were already miles away.

The door clicked shut as you slid into the passenger seat, your thoughts still reeling from the encounter at the park. Ingrid revved up the engine and pulled away, humming softly to the beat of the song playing on the radio. You looked over at her, everything about her seemed staged.

"How did you like the park?" she asked, casting a quick glance in your direction.

"It was... interesting," you said cautiously. "It's a nice place, very lively. Lots of history, I imagine."

Ingrid chuckled. "Oh, you have no idea. It's like the theater of high school drama. Anything and everything happens there."

Her words hung in the air, and you couldn't help but feel like there was a deeper meaning behind them. But before you could ponder it further, your phone buzzed. Glancing down, you saw Ellie's name flash on the screen.

Ellie: hey. can we talk later?

You felt a mixed bag of emotions, but you were mostly nervous. You hadn’t taken the group's warning and hung out with Ingrid anyays. It wasn’t like she was two fingers deep inside of you, but with the way Cat and Ellie looked, it seemed that way. You were about to type a response when you noticed Ingrid's eyes flicking toward your phone screen, then back to the road.

"Who's that?" she asked, her tone casual but her eyes betraying a hint of curiosity.

"Just a friend," you said, choosing your words carefully. "We're supposed to catch up later."

"Oh," she responded, but you could sense a change in her demeanor, a tightening around her eyes. "Well, I hope I'm not keeping you from anything important."

"No, not at all," you reassured her, quickly typing a response to Ellie. "Sure, let's talk. Text me when you're free."

As you pressed send, you couldn't help but wonder about the timing. Why did Ellie want to talk now? And what was it about? Your thoughts were interrupted by Ingrid turning up the volume on the radio, her fingers drumming rhythmically on the steering wheel.

"So," she began, breaking the momentary silence, "we've covered quite a bit today. Any highlights?"

You pondered the question. "Well, the park was a highlight, I guess. It's always good to know where people hang out. Makes me feel less like an outsider."

Ingrid smiled, but there was something about it that made you uneasy. "You're not an outsider, you know. You're just new, and new can be exciting."

"Thanks," you said, your phone buzzing again. This time it was a text from your mom asking about your day.

Feeling the need to switch gears, you asked, "So, how long have you been living here? You seem to know everyone and everything."

"Born and raised," she declared proudly. "It has its pros and cons, but I like it. And yes, I do know a lot of people, but it's not hard when you grow up here. Everyone kind of knows everyone."

"That must be nice," you said, though a part of you wondered what it would be like to have that much history in one place—so many connections, but also so many ties that could bind you.

"Yeah," she paused, her expression turning serious. "But it can also be a bit suffocating, you know? Sometimes you just want to break free, start fresh somewhere new. Like you."

You looked at her, intrigued by this sudden glimpse into her thoughts. "Well, starting fresh isn't as glamorous as it seems. It has its own ups and downs."

"True," she conceded. "But at least it's a blank slate."

Before you could respond, your phone buzzed again. Another text from Ellie.

Ellie: i really need to talk to you. it's important.

This time, you couldn't ignore the urgency in her message. Something was up, something significant. You looked up to find Ingrid watching you, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, but her tone suggested she already knew the answer.

You hesitated, weighing your options. "Actually, I might need to cut our day short. Something's come up at home."

Ingrid's eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw something flicker in them—disappointment, perhaps, or maybe something else.

"Of course," she said, finally breaking eye contact. "Life happens. Let's get you home."

You stepped out of Ingrid's car, waving goodbye as she drove off. Your phone buzzed as you approached your front door, another text from Ellie.

Ellie: can you meet me at the grind? it’s about two blocks away from our house. i can drive us back.

You texted back a quick "on my way" and made your way over.

Ten minutes later, you walked into The Grind, the local coffee shop where the whole town seemed to be at this moment. As you scanned the room, your eyes met Ellie's. She was seated at a corner table, her phone face down and her fingers nervously tapping a rhythm against her coffee mug.

"Hey," you greeted as you approached, pulling out the chair across from her.

"Hey," Ellie replied, her eyes meeting yours briefly before averting. "Thanks for coming."

"No problem. Sounded like it was urgent. What's up?"

"I saw you today," she began cautiously, "with Ingrid."

A knot formed in your stomach. "Yeah, she was showing me around. Why?"

Ellie hesitated, looking down at her mug, and tapping the handle. She closed her eyes for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "Be careful with her. She's not what she seems."

"I mean I heard what you guys said about her at lunc but," you replied, taking a sip of your coffee. "She seems harmless."

She sighed, running her fingers through her hair. Cut right above her shoulders, the choppy layers suited her face. "Ingrid has a way of getting close to people, and it's not always for the right reasons. I just don't want you to get hurt."

Your eyes met, and you felt a strange warmth spread through you. Ellie was concerned for you. But why? She had only known you a day. You searched her face for an answer, for anything, but you came up short.

"Do you have something against her?" you asked, not hiding your skepticism.

"No," Ellie was quick to respond, "it's not like that. I've just seen her ruin friendships, relationships. She's manipulative."

"You seem serious," you remarked, detecting a tinge of something in her voice—was it jealousy?

Ellie looked down at her mug, her fingers ceasing their tapping. "I just don't want history to repeat itself, okay?"

"History?" you questioned, leaning forward. "What happened?"

She looked up again, her eyes meeting yours again, but this time they were vulnerable, exposed. "Ingrid and I had a thing once. And it felt more serious than her ‘things’ with Cat and Dina. And let's just say it didn't end well."

Now it made sense. The hints, the caution—it was personal for Ellie.

She held your gaze, her eyes searching yours for something you couldn't name. "Also," she paused, as if weighing whether to continue, "You’re my friend now. I care about you. And I don't want to see you get hurt."

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air was thick with unspoken words.

You finally broke the silence. "Thank you for telling me, Ellie. I appreciate it."

She nodded, her eyes never leaving yours. "Yeah, yeah. Of course"

As you left The Grind, your thoughts were a swirl of confusion and clarity. Ellie's concern had added another layer to the already complicated dynamic of your new life. But through it all, one thing became clear—Ellie cared about you, maybe more than she was willing to admit.

And as you replayed the conversation in your mind, you couldn't shake the feeling that Ellie wasn't just warning you about Ingrid. She was also staking her claim, marking her territory in a landscape that was becoming increasingly complicated.

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

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joelalorian · 1 month

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Fall Into Me - Chapter Seven: I'll Catch You Darlin'

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 3.9k

Chapter Warnings: Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings, unprotected p in v, flirting, dads being dads. Two idiots falling in love. Joel is his own warning. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad and Joel uses various terms of endearment (darlin', sweetheart, etc.).

Thank you so much to everyone who reads this self-indulgent story and extra thanks to those who comment and/or reblog - you all make me feel like a rock star!

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Some of the tags aren't working in the taglist - if you're not getting the notifications, please check your settings to make sure you are taggable. Thx!

Chapter Six | Main Masterlist

Moonlight peeked through the gap in the dark curtains, beams of soft light dancing across your face. Blinking your eyes open, you glanced around the room, momentarily uncertain where you were. Even in the pre-dawn light, the walls were noticeably darker than your room, furniture a rich mahogany, the bedding a deep blue. The spot in the bed beside you was empty but warm, and it jogged your memory.

You were in Joel’s room, in his bed.

You slept with Joel last night… but, no, wait. You didn’t, you know, sleep with him, though you wanted to and now wished you had.

The two of you made a mess of each other on the couch – you still couldn’t believe you made Joel come in his pants. You’d never done such a thing and it was so fucking hot! Even hotter was the fact that he wasn’t even embarrassed about it. Instead, he let you know how much of an effect you had on him, murmuring affectionate words in your ear. Afterwards, you both cleaned up, Joel loaning you a pair of boxer briefs and joggers to replace your soaked jeans and panties, and finally sat down to watch a movie and order pizza. It was a perfect Sunday date night in. When Sarah and Tommy returned, they joined you for a bit, Sarah cuddled into your left side as you cuddled into Joel on your right. Somehow, after Sarah went to bed and Tommy left, you ended up in Joel’s bed, the dark sheets covering you as he held you in his broad arms. Too tired for anything more, you fell asleep.

It was the best night of sleep you had in your entire life.

Glancing at the alarm clock on the nightstand, you sighed. Too early to rise, you huddled under the covers wondering where Joel went off to. Just then, the bathroom door creaked open, and Joel emerged, climbing back into bed next to you. His arms encased you in the warmth of his body and you hummed happily, placing soft kisses on his chest.

“Mmm, what are you doin’ awake, darlin’,” he murmured, nuzzling his nose in your hair.

“Dunno,” you replied, fingertips dancing along his arms and over his shoulders. Joel pulled you closer still and, with a tilt of your head, you pressed a kiss to his pouty lips, the scruff of his beard and mustache tickling your skin.

Just being in his arms, in his bed, caused a wave of arousal to pool in your lower belly. Thinking of last night on the couch, your hips pressed forward without conscious thought from your brain and your lower belly brushed against the swelling length of Joel’s cock.

“Is someone feelin’ a lil’ needy?” Joel asked, voice thick and velvety, as one hand wandered down the length of your back to squeeze at the plumpness of your ass.

“Always need you, Joel,” you practically whined, internally cringing at your own neediness. You always swore you wouldn’t beg for a man but with your skin practically burning for his every touch, you’d give anything for Joel to be inside you. You never wanted someone so much you felt like you could shatter from the wanton desire pulsing through you.

Shifting forward, Joel rolled you onto your back and hovered above you, bracing himself on one veiny forearm. The thumb of his free hand swiped slowly across your bottom lip, pulling at the pouty flesh, his dark eyes searing as your tongue darted out for a taste of his skin. With a growling moan, he darted forward to press his mouth to yours, nipping at that bottom lip while his hand traced a path down your neck and chest, seeking the roundness of your breasts. Precise in his movements, Joel swallowed your little mewls as he plucked at your nipples one at a time until they were hardened peaks. You squirmed as each delectable pinch sent a bolt of arousal straight to your pussy.

Without a word, Joel read your movements, his hand gliding further down your body to dip beneath the elastic of your panties. Leaning back slightly, his eyes met yours, pupils blown, and arched a single eyebrow. You were absolutely drenched, your arousal seeping through the fabric of your panties to coat the flesh of your inner thighs.

“All this for me? I’ve been so neglectful, you poor lil’ thing. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you, darlin’.”

Joel’s eyes never left yours as he swiped through your folds, the rough pad of his index finger strumming at your clit for a few beats before slipping inside you. It had been a while since you had anything other than a tampon inside you and your breath caught at the feeling of his thick finger stretching you. Soft mewls quickly turned to panting moans as he added another finger to the mix, curling them both to hit that little fleshy bundle of nerves that made you desperate to come as his thumb teased your clit.

“Shhh, darlin’. We need to be quiet,” Joel whispered, his breath in your ear causing goosebumps to prickle across your scalp and along your arms. Biting your lip, you did your best to stay quiet, breathing heavily through your nose as Joel scissored his fingers, opening you up to take the fullness of him.

Suddenly realizing you’ve been so focused on what Joel was doing to you that your hands hadn’t moved from his waist, you shifted. Hips arching up chasing the orgasm that teetered just out of reach, you slipped one hand around Joel’s hip, digging your fingers under the waistband of his boxer briefs to take the heft of him in hand.

Fuck, he was huge. Joel chuckled and your faced heated at the realization that you said that aloud. “That’s why I’m making sure you’re ready to take me, darlin’. I don’t want to hurt you, ever.”

How was this man real? He was everything you never knew you always wanted and then some. And God damn did he know how to work you right over the edge. Afraid of being too loud, you bit into the flesh of Joel’s shoulder to drown your moans as an intense orgasm washed over you. Joel’s fingers worked you through it, soothing you through the trembling aftershocks until you came back to your senses.

“Please, Joel. I need you. I’m ready. I need you now. Please,” you babbled, hands scrabbling at his underwear, wanting him as naked as you. So much for not begging.

Pushing back, Joel tugged his boxer briefs down his hips and thighs, kicking them away as he settled between your thighs. Your eyes widened when you caught a glimpse of his cock, mouth watering with the desire to taste him. Next time, you thought, as he tilted his hips forward, balancing his upper body on his arms. This was the moment you’d both been waiting patiently for.

Joel’s big brown eyes met yours, seeking confirmation that this was what you wanted, and you smiled. “Please, Joel,” you whimpered, hips bucking in search of friction.

Sealing his lips to yours, Joel pushed forward, easing his cock into you with an exaggerated slowness. The mixture of pleasure and slight pain was exquisite as inch after inch of his cock caressed your walls, eyes rolling back when he finally bottomed out.

“Fuck, baby. Y-you feel so fucking good wrapped around me, squeezing me so tight. I could live here, just like this, forever.” Joel’s voice a deep whisper as he rocked into you, cock sliding along your fluttering walls, hitting just the right spots with every movement. He was do deep inside you; you’d swear you could feel him deep in your belly.

The broadness of him surrounded you as he fed you his cock with steady thrusts. Sex never felt so good, and you knew it had everything to do with Joel and the way you felt about him. You’d never felt this way about anyone before and, though it overwhelmed you, it was the greatest thing in the world. You were bursting to tell him the true depth of your feelings, but hesitated, not wanting to be the first to make such a declaration, especially in the heat of the moment.

The pace picked up, Joel kissing you deeply as he rocked into you. You swallowed each other’s moans as you wrapped your legs around his hips, drawing him ever closer, ever deeper. The brush of his lower belly and coarse curls against you created just the right amount of friction on your clit it threw you right over the cliff, moaning into Joel’s mouth, fingernails digging into the skin of his back. No doubt there would be a dozen half moon markings on his back later.

Within a few thrusts, Joel’s pace turned erratic as he sought his own pleasure. Tearing his lips from yours, he frantically blurted, “Where?”

“Inside. Come inside me, baby,” your mewled, aching to feel him pulse inside you.

Two more thrusts and Joel came, his low groan muffled by your neck as he burrowed his head into the pillow. “Fuck,” he drew out the word, followed by a sigh of your name before he collapsed half on top of you. The bulk of him like a weighted blanket covering your body. “That was amazing. I can’t wait to do it again.”

Still delirious, you both chuckled as quietly as you could manage, chests heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Rolling off you, Joel pulled you close so that you were now sprawled half over him and cuddled you until your heart rates returned to normal.

A glance at the clock let you know you were out of time. Sarah would be up any minute looking for breakfast before getting ready for school. The thought of unwrapping yourself from Joel and leaving his bed pained you, but you both got up. You did a quick cleanup while Joel jumped in the shower. As much as you wanted to join him, you both knew you’d lose track of time if you did. Instead, you jumped in after Joel finished, letting him deal with getting Sarah’s breakfast.

It wasn’t until you emerged from the shower that nervous energy coursed through you at the thought of going downstairs. Did Sarah know you stayed over? Did Joel want Sarah to know that you stayed over? You should have talked to Joel about this before he went downstairs, but it was too late now. The questions still swirled in your head as you slipped on the borrowed joggers and scraped your hair into a knot at the back of your head. You wore a tank top to sleep in and were about to put your shirt from the night before on when one of Joel’s flannels caught your eye. Holding the fabric up to your nose, you breathed in the scent of him – fresh cut wood and a musk that was so uniquely Joel – and slipped the shirt on with a tender smile. Time to face the music, you thought.

Steps light as you walked down the stairs, you heard Sarah chattering away to Joel and smiled when Joel’s deep voice muttered responses. Their connection warmed your heart and you wanted so badly to be part of this family unit with them.

Catching sight of you as you turned the corner, Joel’s dark chocolate eyes lit up, lips twitching into a half smile. “Good mornin’, darlin’,” he greeted once you stepped through into the kitchen, leaning down to kiss the top of your head as if the two of you hadn’t spent the last hour getting full carnal knowledge of each other. “How’d you sleep?”

“Mmm, good morning you two,” you replied, slipping into the seat next to Sarah with a smile at the young girl. “That was the best night of sleep.”

Joel looked pleased with himself as he placed a glass of water on the table in front of you along with a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon. “Just what I hoped to hear.” He took the seat across from you at the little four-top table and the three of you dug in.

Sarah kept up a stream of chatter as you ate, telling you all about her ice cream date with Tommy the night before. About mid-way through breakfast, you nearly choked on your eggs when the little girl blurted, “You’re wearing Daddy’s clothes. Does that mean you’re officially his girlfriend now?”

Sputtering, your wide-eyed gaze darted to Joel. He sat there looking cool as a cucumber, lips quirked in a grin and umber eyes twinkling with mischief. “Yeah, darlin’. Does that mean you’re officially my girlfriend now?”

Eyes narrowing at the menace of a man sitting across the table, you smirked. Two could play this game. “Well, I don’t know. What do I get for being your official girlfriend?” you asked, voice dipping toward sultry.

Joel visibly gulped, eyes searching your face before he cleared his throat. “Anything you want.” He said it so simply, the words leaving his lips so effortlessly, and it threw you.

“What about what you want?” you deflected.

Sarah gazed between the two of you, nose scrunched, equal parts happy and confused. Why did adults make everything complicated?

Playfulness glinted in Joel’s eyes, winking at Sarah before turning back to you. “I want you to be my official girlfriend.”

“Okie dokie,” you replied with a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders, feigning indifference as you took the last bite of eggs on your plate to hide your smile.

Joel shook his head, wide grin splitting his face, and went to reply when his phone buzzed. He shot a brief look to you before answering. “Hey JB,” he greeted, listening as your dad spoke. “Yeah, she’s here. Just getting the nugget ready for school.”

One thick-fingered hand tapped a rhythm on the wooden table, phone to his left ear as he gazed at you. Your dad was talking a lot, the echo of his voice carried in the air, but you couldn’t decipher what he said.

“It’s no bother, man. She’s a good girl and we love having her here.” Joel winked at you again before motioning for Sarah to go finish getting ready. “Yeah, JB, you can talk to her.”

Accepting the phone as he passed it across the table, you sat back in the chair. “Hey Dad. What’s up?”

“What’s up with you, ya dirty stay out? I didn’t see your car last night or this morning and wondered where ya were. Guess I shoulda known you’d be over there.”

There was something off with your dad’s tone and you panicked, trying in vain to think of an excuse on why you would’ve stayed the night. Mouth opening and closing a few times, your dad beat you to the punch.

“Don’t be makin’ a nuisance of yourself over there, ya hear? It’s one thing to have a crush on the guy, but it’s another to force yourself into every aspect of their lives, Spud. Don’t be getting’ in the way of their family time. You know how important that is.”

Your dad kept going, rattling off some other advice you didn’t ask for, but you were stuck on one thing. He thought you had a crush on Joel. He was much more observant than you ever gave him credit for. You and Joel would not be able to keep your now official relationship secret for long, not with good ol’ JB nosing around.

Joel’s eyes burned into you, but you couldn’t meet his gaze, staring down at the flaws in the tabletop instead.

“Anyway, I just wanted to wish ya good luck on your meeting at the school today, sweetie. You make your old man proud,” your dad said. “Tell Joel I’ll see him later. Love you, Spud.”

“Thanks Dad, love you too,” you uttered, the line going dead before you finished speaking. Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, your eyes met Joel’s, finally. “He thinks I have a crush on you and shouldn’t interfere with your family time.”

Tilting his head to the side, brows pinched, Joel reached a hand across the table to link his fingers with yours. “We’ll tell him real soon, darlin’. Don’t want you keeping secrets from your dad like this.”

“You sure? What if…”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m here, in this, for the long haul,” Joel replied imploringly, his fingers squeezing yours. “I haven’t felt like this in too long, if ever, and I’m not givin’ it up for anything. Okay?”

The tell-tale tickle of tears welled but you refused to let them spill over, nodding with a watery smile. “Okay.”

The day started off cool, but the southern sun beat down on the back of Joel’s neck by early afternoon, causing him to shed the red flannel he wore to the job site. Gulping down a bottle of chilled water, he glanced at his phone hoping for a message from you.

You were on his mind constantly. Something triggered a memory or thought of you at almost every moment of the day. He’d see a bird and wonder if you knew what species it was. Or he’d hear something funny and wonder what you’d think about it. Or memories of you in his lap and in his bed would hit suddenly, making him hot under the collar and below the belt.

Joel Miller was a man falling in love and powerless to stop it. Not that he wanted to, anyway.

Just then his phone buzzed with a message from you asking him to call you when he had a moment. He’d always make time for you, he thought, his fingers already hitting the call symbol.

“Hey handsome,” you answered on the second ring, breathless as if you were running.

“Howdy darlin’,” he replied, voice deep and rumbly, just the way he knew you liked it. “How’d the meeting go?”

You were silent for a moment too long, and Joel pulled the phone from his ear, checking that the call didn’t drop.

“Well, you’re talking to the new middle grade science teacher, so I’d say it went well.” He could feel the pride in your voice and his heart swelled.

“Congrats, darlin’. I knew you’d get it and you’ll be the best damn science teacher those kids will ever have.” He was already thinking about how lucky Sarah would be to have you as a teacher. Letting his voice go a little deeper, he added, “We should celebrate this weekend. Sarah has two sleepover birthday parties to go to, so we’ll have the house to ourselves. I can take my time in showing you just how proud I am of you, and we can be as loud as we want.”

Your breath audibly hitched on the other end of the phone, causing Joel’s lips to twitch into a smirk. “I’d really like that, Joel,” you breathed, and his jeans suddenly grew tighter.

Adjusting himself as subtly as possible, Joel sighed. “I should go, sweetheart. There’s a ton to do at this site and I’m already looking at a few long days this week. Call JB next. He’s dropping by in a bit, and I don’t want to let something slip that I shouldn’t know yet.”

Sighing deeply into the phone, you said, “Alright, I’ll call him now. We gotta tell him soon, Joel. This is only gonna get harder, you know.”

“I know, sweet cheeks. We will, I promise.” Hearing his name, Joel nodded to one of his crew before saying goodbye. Your sweet voice echoed in his ears as he worked like a dog the rest of the day. JB was a proud papa when he stopped by, bragging about you to anyone who would listen. Guilt gurgled in Joel’s gut knowing the two of you were keeping a secret from the guy, but he pushed it down, pretending that he didn’t know anything about your new job and let JB share the details. The sun set long before he left the site, and he arrived home to find leftovers warming on the stove while you got Sarah ready for bed.

The sight of you walking down the stairs, smiling sweetly at him, set his soul on fire. God, how he longed to be with you all the time, to wake up next to you every morning and come home to you every evening.

“Come ‘ere, my sexy teacher girlfriend,” he greeted softly, pulling you in for a scorching kiss. He wasted no time, tongue dipping into your mouth to tangle with yours. “You’re so beautiful and smart, I’m so lucky I get to call you mine.”

You laughed with a little shake of your head. “I’m the lucky one, Joel. I can’t believe some lucky lady hadn’t snatched you up before I came along.”

Even though he was dirty and probably stunk of sweat from working all day, Joel hesitated to let you out of his embrace. As if sensing his feelings, you nuzzled into him.

“I wish I could stay the night, but I should get back to my dad’s,” you said, reluctantly.

“I know, darlin’. We’ll tell him soon and then you can stay over whenever you want.” Joel walked you out the door, thanking you for taking care of Sarah and cooking dinner. He kissed you a few more times on the way to your car and even ducked down to buckle you in and kiss you one last time before finally stepping back. “I’ll see you in the mornin’. I—”

That pesky little four-letter word had been bouncing around his heart and mind for weeks, even before the two of you decided to give this thing before you a shot, but he hesitated to say it first. He’d never said it and meant it, and to him it was a really big thing that he needed to time just right.

The rest of the week passed in a blur of work for Joel. Business was good, keeping him, Tommy, and a few other guys busier than any of them preferred. It was getting to the point where Joel needed to hire another crew so they could run two jobs at once. Though it was a great thing, making changes to his business always increased Joel’s anxiety. Management wasn’t his forte and he was terrified of screwing something up, but maybe that’s what made him a great small business owner. He was hyper vigilant in both the business and construction side of operations, going the extra mile to make sure things ran safely and smoothly.

The downfall of being so busy was, of course, the complete lack of time to spend with Sarah or you. It made him extra happy to know that Sarah had you to lean on and spend time with while he was busy, though. You were the piece of the support system that Sarah had been missing and seeing the bond between the two of you grow stronger every day warmed his heart to the point of bursting.

Finally, Friday arrived, and Joel busted his ass to get done early, rushing home to shower and setup a little something in the backyard to celebrate you landing your first teaching position. He had the perfect evening planned.

tbc

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#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #the last of us #tlou #dbf!joel #Fall Into Me #pedro pascal #eventual smut #mutual pining #idiots falling for each other

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epicbuddieficrecs · 5 months

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Weekly Recap | December 25th-31st 2023

Happy New Year everyone! May 2024 be better than 2023, and may season 7 be good to us!!!

Complete

Battle Born by allisonRW96/ @homerforsure (NHL AU, Established Buddie | 11K | Teen): Buck comes down with appendicitis during the playoffs. He decides to play through it.

🔥 through tooth and claw (to where you are) by allisonRW96/ @homerforsure (Post-S6, Hurt Buck, Getting Together | 18K | Teen): With a reverent hush, Christopher said, “Whoa, it’s so close.” And it was almost as though Buck needed to have that obvious fact pointed out to him before the vague dread of animal instinct that had been pooling in his stomach could solidify into a real, actionable fear. It’s so close. Something’s wrong. AKA: The Rabid Coyote fic

we’ve got something permanent (i mean in the way we care) by callmenewbie/ @callmenewbie (PWP, Breeding Kink | 7K | Explicit): Buck has baby fever and it’s Eddie’s job to give him what he wants. Kind of.

Here Where We Should Be (Kiss Me, It’s Christmas) by allisonRW96/ @homerforsure (Christmas, Getting Together | 5K | General): It’s Christmas and Eddie decides he can’t possibly wait any longer to start kissing Buck.

well, I hate to be a bother, but it's you and there's no other by allisonRW96 / @homerforsure (Getting Together | 3K | Mature): Eddie starts dating again and learns a few things about himself. The most surprising one? He's actually ready this time. Now he just needs to get Buck on board.

in a little while (you will find some relief then) by allisonRW96 / @homerforsure (Hurt Buck | 10K | Teen): Buck gets a severe case of poison oak. He handles it about as well as you'd expect.

🔥 The Nearness of You by allisonRW96/ @homerforsure (Work Trip | 17K | Teen): Eddie reassured himself that he could do this. Other teams coming in were probably going to be staying at the same hotel in the same double rooms and it was very possible that none of them were going to be having sex. Or even lying awake at night thinking about it.

We Can't Succeed but We Love Trying by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (PWP, Breeding Kink | 15K | Explicit): In which Eddie has the thought that if Buck's gonna "donate" his sperm anywhere, it should be with, well. Eddie.

all it took was a backwards baseball cap by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (PWP, Getting Together | 5K | Explicit) : Or, the one in which Eddie loses his shit at Buck wearing a backwards baseball cap. Seriously, can this man get more attractive? Is he trying to kill Eddie?

drawstrings by browney3dgirl6/ @hoodie-buck (PWP, Getting Together | 3K | Mature): Eddie helps Buck fix his drawstrings. How was he supposed to know it’d lead to him sitting in Bucks lap?

🔥 come with me, together, we can take the long way home (series) by allisonRW96/ @homerforsure (Canon compliant | 105K | T to M):

Get me through the night; Make me feel alright (Post-S3 Finale | 11K | Mature): After an emotionally-gutting reunion with Abby, Buck turns to old coping mechanisms. Eddie helps him find a better way. In Uncertain Times, The Uncertain Rules Apply (Pre-S4 | 22K | Teen): Covid comes to LA. Eddie copes. Or doesn't. Holding out for Something More (Stuck in Reverse) (Post S4E3/Lone Star Crossover | 26K | Teen): LA is coming out of lockdown and the world is returning to some sense of normalcy. But going back to the way things were hurts more than Buck expected. While his therapist challenges him to confront what he really wants, the team takes a trip to Austin... and El Paso. so far from being free (S4E4: 9-1-1 What's Your Grievance?, S4E5: Buck Begins | 46K | Teen): That’s Daniel. He was our brother. Buck doesn’t know what to do with the past tense. He never had a brother. He’s always had a brother. He gained one and lost one in the same breath and it feels impossible.

carry my heart home to you by allisonRW96/ @homerforsure (Getting Together | 4K | Teen): After his parents join him for a therapy session, Buck starts to learn that some people are never going to be able to give you what you need. And some people are.

if you say it with your hands by hammersmiths/ @henswilsons (S2 | 10K | Teen): Buck thinks it must be a habit he still hasn’t dropped from his days in the army, or maybe it comes with the territory of being a dad – but Eddie can nap pretty much anywhere. or, Eddie starts casually falling asleep against Buck, and Buck is very normal about it.

🔥 into thirty separate parts by hammersmiths/ @henswilsons (S6 | 12K | Teen): “Theoretically,” says Buck, as soon as Eddie picks up the phone, “your ex writes a book about you.” There is a pregnant pause. “…Right,” Eddie decides on, finally. or, Taylor’s book comes out.

close friends (that you lowkey want to fuck, but in a totally platonic way) by rowan_wood/ @transboybuckley (Getting Together | 2K | Teen): Instagram rolls out a new feature, and Buck doesn't totally understand how it works.

I'm still standing in the same place where you left me standing by trysetmeonfire/ @try-set-me-on-fire (POV Bobby, Hurt Eddie, Getting Together | 8K | Teen) Bobby deals with the ramifications of a misplaced confession

Keep My Heart Warm In Yours by callmenewbie/ @callmenewbie (Christmas, Post-S6, Getting Together | 18K | Mature): Christopher decides that he wants to go skiing, Buck makes it happen and the cabin at the foot of the mountains turns out to be quite the romantic backdrop for their little getaway.

Hiding the Christmas Present (of You and Me) by Princessfbi/ @princessfbi (Christmas | 7K | General): Buck thought he was going to spend Christmas alone. His family decides to correct that assumption.

If I Fall, Can You Pull Me Up? by Princessfbi/ @princessfbi (Hurt Buck, Established Buddie | 7K | General): Eddie could pick Buck from a million miles away. Buck’s entire being was like one bright light in an otherwise cloudy sky. So, he was really interested to know why some stranger was wearing his boyfriend’s turnout coat and pretending to be him.

Used to Think That Lovin' Meant a Painful Chase by Princessfbi/ @princessfbi (Getting Together | 4K | Teen): It’d been fine when Buck had Eddie’s dick in his mouth. It wasn’t often that Buck got to see Eddie come undone but he’d been treated to a private showing and the pride he had being the one to take Eddie there was indescribable. But then things got… weird. Or maybe, it was Buck that got weird? He still wasn’t really sure where it started, to be honest.

for all the words unspoken by Maira/ @carrierofthepaperclips (Work Trip, Getting Together | 5K | Teen): "Buck." Eddie had already dropped his bag and was standing next to the bed, hands on his hips. "We've slept in the same bed before. I'm pretty sure we'll manage to do the same in this one, it's humorously large. Don't!" He held up a hand as Buck opened his mouth. His lips twitched, though, so Buck took it as a win. ... or, the one with only one bed.

underneath the tree by devirnis/ @devirnis (PWP, BDSM | 2K | Explicit): Frowning to himself in concentration, Eddie carefully folds the wrapping paper around the corner of the box. He has no idea how his mother makes this look so easy, even after she walked him through it earlier on FaceTime. Under the tree, Eddie’s present whines plaintively.

WIP

🔥 Precious & Fragile Things by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Small Miracles AU, Angel Buck | 20K | 8/? | Teen): Buck is the Fallen Angel of Petty Temptation, who has been tasked with tempting human Eddie Diaz to sin and enjoy life, but just a little. He thinks the job will be easy - get in, get out, go back to Peru to continue messing around with eternity. But when Buck arrives in Los Angeles, he finds Eddie is harder to tempt than expected, and more compelling than Buck had hoped.

🔥 Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon, S1 through S6 | 102/? | 276K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

Love Ends. by rowan_wood (Exes to Lovers | 4/17 | 5K | Explicit): But what if it doesn't?

in my head by yourcatfishfriend/ @your-catfish-friend (Friends With Benefits | 8/9 | 30K | Explicit): Buck is confidently bisexual. Eddie isn't sure. Buck helps him figure it out.

Re-Read

🔥 Always, All Ways by ashavahishta/ @ashavahishta (A/B/O AU | 85K | Explicit): Buck’s the only omega in the 118. He’s got secrets, and walls a mile high. Eddie’s the alpha determined to knock them down.

#buddie #buddie fic #buddie fanfiction #buddie fic rec #buddie fanfic #epic buddie fic rec #911 fanfiction #911 fic #911 fanfic

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skyeslittlecorner · 5 months

Text

On the other side - Andrealphus

I have no idea who proposed it because sadly I can't find it (found you! Thanks for inspiration @\rae-pss!), but someone came up with an idea of what would happen if the characters from WHB started to realize that the MC was not us. That there is someone on the other side of the screen who takes care of them. I created a little silly fic loosely interpreting it.

Word count: 1284

Other parts: On the other side | Promised Land | Point to point | Love is blind (18+)

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

Life is so repeatable. Work, eat, sleep, work, eat, sleep, work, eat, sleep, only with some little pleasures in between. You took off jacket, threw it away and plopped down at the chair. Old phone landed on a table as you were struggling with thoughts whether to eat instant noodles today or heat up yesterday's dinner.

"Come on, boys." You turn on game and tapped loading screen just from boredroom. "I don't have all evening."

You wanted to have a pet, you've considered it a lot. But with these earnings, the closest thing to an animal in this house were fish sticks. So all that had left to do was talk to fictional hot guys. At least they don't need to be feed.

When Andrea appeared on the display, you tapped on him with a smile.

"Hi, babygirl."

"Who’s there…?"

You've never seen this speech bubble before. Update? But nothing downloaded, and any additional files were in a queue. Well, maybe it was one of those little tweaks nobody notice. You tapped the screen about three hundred more times to see if there were any new voice lines, but this time everything was the same. Maybe it was just a combination of overactive imagination and tiredness. Yes. Instant noodles will be a better option, you will make them faster and go to bed faster.

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

"…and then this stupid bitch said it was all my fault."

Lying half on the chair, half on the desk, and half somewhere in between, you were chatting with a friend on Discord and doing tasks for nightmare pass.

"That sucks. What are you going to do about it?"

"No idea. But if they take my bonus because of her, I'll kill her, I swear."

"I hope everything will be fine, but I have to go. Sorry."

"Yeah… Have fun on a date."

"Thanks!"

Hearing the disconnection sound, you sighed. Obviously, you couldn't blame them, keeping fingers crossed that they had found their other half of orange, but now they didn't even have time to meet for coffee, and you lived three minutes' walk from each other. Talking together, joking together, everything faded into the background. In addition, work was getting worse...

"I also hope everything will work out"

The voice sounded different. Familiar. But they definitely weren't your friend. You quickly checked the screen to see if anyone had joined the voice chat, but the screen was blank.

"What… Who? How?" Of course, there was no one around the room. Is this the beginning of hallucinations?

"I'd like to ask this too."

The voice that came from the speakers. From the telephone. From...?

The phone screen showed only a familiar sprite turning its head from side to side. You forgot about the strange update from a few days ago. Was that it again? Andrea's red braid was beautifully animated, and facial expressions changed, delicate movements of the eyebrows and lips showed new emotions. It really looked stunningly real.

"Gorgeous." You complimented in a whisper godly work of the animator. "I can't wait until you get L, since you already look so sexy as S..."

"What are S and L...?"

He answered without tapping. Moreover, he tilted his head as if listening. There's been a lot of talk about AI lately, but you didn't agree to use the microphone in game… Unless it's some stinky term of services. This needs to be turned off, it will probably be in the settings. But after checking options, there was nothing like that there.

"Strange…"

"Trust me, I find it unnatural too." Andrea replied with an uncertain smile. "I hear you, but I don't feel anyone around me. But your voice… It’s nice. Can you keep talking? It feels good to be less... alone."

He sounded so much in character. Whoever programmed this, put a lot of work into it. It was a little weird... but you were so tired and done that chatting with the AI seemed like a nice change.

"Sure. It's weird talking to the screen, but well, I do it all the time anyway. Good thing it’s only an AI, because if anyone heard half the nonsense I moan, they'd probably send me to solitary confinement."

"You're calling grown man babygirl."

"Because you are!"

He chuckled, and it felt almost like a talking to an actual human. Muttering such nonsense, you felt ashamed for a moment. If the government suddenly started eavesdropping, the agent who was in charge was such a poor man.

"Tell me something else." He asked. "I've been hearing your voice for several days. I'd like to finally know who I'm having the pleasure of talking with."

He didn't have to ask twice. Of course, without providing any personal details, but you could give him your name. And told about that stupid bitch at work...

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

You checked tumblr, checked X, and checked the official website of the game. There was no word about an update anywhere, and after writing that this new option with talking to devils was great, all mutuals started to worry if everything was okay or asked how to unlock it. What were you supposed to tell them? That it just appeared?

What's worse, you started to treat Andrea like an ordinary person. A human being. Turning on the game during cleaning, cooking or making bed, talking to that little devil on the screen, and... listening to his stories. He spoke so beautifully. Talked about how he likes to spend his time (if not murdering angels), or what everyday life in Nilfheim is like. Sometimes he worried about the war, sometimes was happy when you stayed with him longer being off work.

"My blindness is truly a gift." He said one day with a dreamy smile.

"Why so?"

"In this daily hustle, if my eyes were still working properly, I certainly wouldn't be able to hear you, a small voice in my consciousness. I thought there was something wrong with me. But when I finally focused, you heard me too."

What he said was so similar to what you remembered about own feelings. Longing tightened your chest, longing for someone who didn't exist in this world, and that feeling turned into pain.

"I'm also glad we can hear from each other." Your voice changed noticeably.

Andrea sensed it.

"Now that we've been able to talk, maybe one day we'll be able to touch each other?" He held his hand out in front of him, but you knew he couldn't pass through the screen. Still, you placed a finger where his hand was. Stupid mind was tricking you that you could feel his warmth. Tears came to your eyes.

"One day." You whispered with a trembling voice. "I don't know how, but one day we will."

"Do not cry, please. I don't want you to ever cry because of me.”

You tried to keep calm, but it was no use. Maybe one day, in another time, in another reality. Maybe it will work. No, it has to work. No matter how crazy others might think you were, this wasn't the world you were supposed to stay in. Your intended one waited patiently on the other side of the screen. You just didn't know how to do it. Not yet.

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb andrealphus

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from-the-clouds · 1 year

Text

texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. x

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter |

chapter summary: an old friend finds you at your lowest point, and you're confronted with ghosts of the past. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 5.7k chapter warnings: HEAVY ANGST. Grief. Time jumps. Referenced death of family members and romantic partners. Canon typical violence. Blood mention. As always please dm if you have questions. a/n: I took a week off to get my shit together. I hope you are still with me :) Also, please pay attention to dates in this chapter.

**ALSO! I got rid of my taglist. Please follow @ftcwriting and turn on notifs if you would like to be notified when I update my works :) **

-March 7, 2022-

You hobble forward through the snow, dragging your right foot behind you for as long as you can until you’re forced to use it to step forward. Every time you have to bear weight on your ankle, you try to mentally prepare yourself for the pain, to convince yourself it’s not that bad. But each time your injured foot comes in contact with the ground, you realize your imagination didn’t do it any justice. Still, you try to keep the noises you make in response down to nothing more than sharp inhales. Despite the fact that the boy trailing a few steps behind you always keeps his eyes cast down, he sees everything, and the last thing you want him to notice is the severity of your injury.

Both of you have more important things to worry about.

It’s a forgivingly warm day, and by forgivingly warm, you mean not freezing. Snow still covers the ground, so tightly packed that in some areas you can walk on top of it, but in others you have to forage a path – it’s nearly above your knees. Without the support system of the group you had just been with, there was no way you’d be able to make it in this weather. This was the plan – head South, for warmer weather. But still, you’ve no real destination or purpose, you’re kind of wandering aimlessly through the woods and mountains, with nothing to direct you but a cracked compass.

Despite the pain you’re in, you find the discomfort a welcome reprieve. If you’re focused on that, you’re not thinking of her. Of what you’d just lost, which would spiral into all the things you had lost, and so on and so forth. If you let yourself go down that path, you wouldn’t be able to come back, despite your future looking more and more uncertain each day.

The boots that crunch behind you echo your own footsteps, so when they come to a sudden halt, you turn to look at him. He puts a finger to his lips. “Did you hear that?”

His head tilts towards the wind. It’s hard enough to hear already, between the rushing river to your left, and the whistling of the breeze through the pines to your right. It ruffles his dark hair and you watch him – but it’s hard to tell what he’s thinking when his eyes are obstructed by a pair of Rayban Wayfarers perched on the bridge of his nose. You’d found them – along with the aviators you wore – on a road full of abandoned cars about three days back. Or was it…four? You’d have to look at your journal. Either way, you’d known they were necessary to avoid snow blindness, especially now that the sun was out.

After a few moments of listening, he shakes his head. “I thought I heard horses.”

Whether he did or not doesn’t matter. “We should move back towards the woods,” you advise.

He frowns, but doesn’t argue, and you abandon the easy path in favor of what’s safer, but also much, much, harder terrain to move over. Now, you have to move slower, but the pain is just as bad as before.

You’re not sure how much time passes before you lose your footing over some gnarled tree roots, and it sends you to the ground. It hurts, and because you weren’t prepared for it, sharp cry you let out can’t be held back.

“Shit!”

Within a second, the boy is kneeling at your side, brow furrowed in concern. And you’re reminded, with him hovering over you, that he’s not a boy anymore.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine,” you say rapidly, rolling onto your stomach to push yourself up to a seated position.

“No you’re not,” he crouches down, gesturing to your foot. One of his hands lands on your shoulder, keeping you from trying to rise to your feet. “You’re clearly not.”

You lift up your pants to tighten the cloth you’ve wrapped around your ankle – a makeshift compression sleeve – even though you know it’s not going to fix the problem. It’s main purpose, really, is to hide the majority of the bruising and swelling. It makes it easier for you both to stay in denial of how bad the situation really is. “I twisted it. It’s fine.”

“It’s fucking broken,” he insists. “You know it is. We can’t keep going like this, we need to rest, and food. You need to ice it and actually let it fucking heal-”

“Ethan,” you hiss. “Just where the fuck are we going to do that?”

Wherever you are is incredibly remote, you hadn’t been able to find a reliable shelter since you first started running away.

Your nephew frowns again, his head dropping. “You’re right. We’re fucked, aren’t we?”

“We’re not fucked,” you say, even if you don’t believe it. “We’ve seen worse.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know....this is pretty fucking bad, right?”

There was something equally tragic about almost every situation you’d been in since the beginning of the outbreak, so it’s honestly hard if you’re actually doomed or not.

“I mean we survived….that,” you gesture towards the general direction from which you’d come, even if it’s a week’s worth of travel away.

“Maybe we’re still not out of it.”

“We are. The worst is over.” Despite your own doubts, you try to remain determined for his sake.

Ethan only sighs. He doesn’t argue with you, and rarely does. It doesn’t mean he agrees with you. Even after everything you’d been through, he’s sensitive – and incredibly introspective.

This conversation was getting filed away to bring up later. There’s a lot of things you know he wants to talk about, but he knows now is not the time for those conversations.

“Let’s keep moving,” you decide. “Hopefully we’ll find shelter soon, and when we do, I promise, you can rest.”

“You can rest,” he corrects.

You hum your affirmation, and he stands. The thick pelt that’s draped over his shoulders shifts when his hand reaches out to help you up. There’s still blood that stains his clothing, and it’s caked under his fingernails. Yours too. It’d be nice to clean yourself off properly, but with the unpredictable temperatures, you’re not interested in diving into the river and risking hypothermia.

The second that you rise to your feet, you can see you are – as Ethan predicted – fucked.

There’s four, hulking figures cantering towards you on horseback. You turn to look into the woods. “Fuck, we have to-” you fumble for the revolver strapped at your hip, and Ethan lifts his rifle, but it’s too late. Before you can even draw your weapons, or comprehend an escape plan, you’re surrounded.

“Don’t even fucking think about it,” there’s at least two guns trained directly at you. “Hands up.” After everything that had gone down, you’re out of bullets, so even if it might’ve been a good bluff, a gun would only get you so far.

You both obey, but Ethan subtly shifts his weight so he stands in front of you. “Hey kid. Step away from mom or we’ll shoot you both.”

The words come from the man on the horse directly in front of you. Probably the leader, if you had to guess, and clad just like his counterparts. They’re all clad in muted tones, handkerchiefs obscuring their mouths and cowboy hats casting shadows over their eyes. There’s a dog seated obediently at one of the horses feet.

You don’t say anything as Ethan steps away. This wasn’t the first time you’ve both been cornered like this before. And hopefully not the last, you think, before realizing just how grim of a wish that would be. Either way, he knows what to do. Silence is an incredibly effective card to play when you have absolutely nothing to offer. It allows you to bide your time, to strategize, to listen.

Once Ethan is an appropriate distance away, he raises his chin in defiance. “What brings you to the area?”

“Nothing. We’re passing through,” you answer. Maybe that would be enough. Maybe the only thing you really can use as leverage right now is just how down on your luck you actually are. Unfortunately, you have found that even when you have nothing to give, there are still things that can be taken.

“What’s with all the blood?” another man asks, this one to your left. “You in some kind of trouble?”

“Only the usual kind.”

“Infected?”

“We aren’t sick.”

“We’ll see…” the third man whistles to the dog at his feet, which trots forward with a low growl to sniff at your shoes.

Neither you or Ethan have been bit, so you know you’re in the clear, but that doesn’t make things any less hopeless. You exchange a sidelong glance with your nephew as the dog sniffs at you, and you glance to the only cowboy who has been silent the whole time, the one at your right. He clears his throat, adjusts his hat, and you catch a glimpse of his eyes….just for a second. The dog backs away.

“Looks like you aren’t lying,” the cowboy in front of you sounds almost satisfied. “Both of you, take off those glasses.”

You sigh, glancing over at Ethan.

“Don’t look at him, just do it.”

You do, pushing them off the bridge of your nose and up into your matted and tangled hair. Pointedly, you turn to look at the men surrounding you. Revealing your face is always a risk, and you’ve made plenty of enemies who would recognize you. But you’re out of options.

“Where are you headed?”

“South,” you say. “Just trying to get out of the cold.”

“If think this is cold, then you must have not been in the area long enough.”

Actually, I have, asshole. Is a decade long enough? You keep the commentary to yourself.

“Any friends nearby we should know about?”

Your stomach twists. No. But he doesn’t deserve the story. Not when all you want to do is forget every second of the last week. “Can you just tell us what you want from us?”

“Answer the question.”

“Hold on,” the man to your right speaks up for the first time, and you turn to look over at him. “What’s your name?” His voice is muffled by the bandana.

Hesitantly, you give him your first.

The man pulls his handkerchief down around his neck, pushes the brim of his hat back. Now, you can see him clearly. He looks familiar, but it’s not someone you know from this lifetime. His long, dark hair pokes out from where it’s slicked back behind his ears. He looks far too young to be the first person that comes to mind. But….maybe.

And then he repeats your name, adds your last himself. How does he know?

You tilt your head to the side, squint against the sun.

“....Tommy?”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Huddled at the far end of a couch, you’re still trying to make sense of the situation when Tommy settles into a chair that he pulls alongside you.

“Let me take a look at your ankle.”

“It’s fine, really,” you insist, even though all your efforts to refuse help since you’ve arrived have been futile.

It’s the most normal-looking community you’d seen in a decade. Completely self-sufficient and self-governed – no FEDRA, no Fireflies. Hell, you’d just showered under warm, running water – had watched the blood and dirt and grime swirl about the tiles before disappearing down the drain. And now, despite the temperature having dropped since nightfall, you are perfectly warm in a thin gray sweater, thanks to the central heating and a fire crackling in the fireplace. It seems far too civilized to be real.

Your eyes flick behind Tommy towards the stairs, and you register the sound of the water running above you. Ethan. For the past few days, he hasn’t left your sight once, such a force of habit that leaving him alone puts you on edge. If something happens, and you’re separated….

“He’ll be fine,” Tommy assures you, almost like he can read your mind. You focus back on him, but don’t have anything to offer in response. He sighs, lowers his voice. “Whatever happened to you, I want you to know that you’re safe. And can trust me. You know that, right?”

You study Tommy. Of course, you want to trust him. But he is a man, after all. A man you haven’t seen in a long time. You had been betrayed so many times by people you thought you could trust that it was no longer something you could give so easily. The sincerity in his expression, the conviction with which he speaks, however, causes you to soften. “C-Can I?”

“Of course,” Tommy says. “We knew each other….before.”

“I know, I know.” You nod, wearily, and take in the room. “Guess it’s just….a bit of a shock.”

“I get it,” he sympathizes. “But I’m here to help. If I wasn’t, all this…” he gestures around the living room of the once-empty house he’s letting you use for the night. “...would be a huge waste of time and resources.”

You offer a small smile, feel some of the apprehension fade, and allow him to examine your ankle. When you’d gotten a glimpse of it in the shower, you really couldn’t deny the severity of the situation.

“It does look like it could be broken,” Tommy says as he begins to wrap it in a bandage. It’s so sensitive, you can’t even watch, trying not to wince. “Tomorrow, I’ll get the doctor to come by and take a look. But for now, we’ll ice it and keep it elevated. Maria’s coming by later with dinner and some medicine that should help with the discomfort.”

You nod. To be real, the whole situation seems too surreal. There is something interesting about this situation – that right after one of the most traumatic events of your life, someone you knew from before was there to help. It wasn’t nothing.

And you’re aware that there are a thousand questions that hang between you. It’s overwhelming, you don’t know what one you want to pick, or if you even want to. So you keep it simple. “Who’s Maria?”

Tommy maneuvers a pillow under your foot and gingerly rests an ice pack on top. “She only kind of runs the place. And….she’s also my girlfriend.”

“How nice,” you say, earnestly.

“Yeah….” Tommy smiles to himself. “Yeah, it is nice. I have a life here. It’s been awhile since I’ve felt that way.”

His candid nature further helps you relax. If you can trust him, and he feels safe here….maybe you are, too.

“Look, I’m sorry, but I have to ask…” Tommy begins, rubbing his hands together and looking over his shoulder. “But uh….the kid….Ethan…is he….”

You tilt your head.

“Is he….Joel’s?”

“Oh,“ your eyes widen. You register that a less hardened version of yourself might have laughed at the misunderstanding. But not now. Something twists deep in your gut at the implication. “No, no. No. He’s not mine. He’s my nephew. My brother’s son.”

“Okay,” Tommy looks almost relieved. “Sorry, it's just. He’s so young and you sort of look alike and-”

“It’s alright, Tommy,” you say. Because you can see why he thinks that. You are old enough to be Ethan’s mother, and people constantly assume he’s your son. Most of the time, you don’t bother to correct them. No one needed that information. Ethan was only a child when his parents passed. The two of you were all that remained of your family, and if it weren’t for him, you probably wouldn’t even be here. -“I get it.”

It’s been awhile since you’ve thought of Joel, of Sarah. It seems cruel, but it’s really just a matter of self-preservation. For some time, right after the outbreak, you had tried to find them. But you weren’t willing to abandon Ethan or Vincent, and there was only so much you could go. You kept losing people, and then started to avoid thinking about them entirely. Those memories became a distraction. You had more important things to focus on. Staying alive. Only when things were quiet would you let yourself indulge.

“He’s still alive,” Tommy’s voice cuts through the silence.

It almost feels selfish to be relieved that Joel’s alive. Because anyone who remembers what it was like before has survived, against all odds. And it’d be impossible to meet anyone who hasn’t traded over part of their humanity to last this long.

Despite that, you aren’t surprised. Joel was practical, smart….a protector. You remembered a hot summer night, the way he’d made some guy harassing you and Sarah cower and retreat with all his friends. It would be terrifying to be on the receiving end of that rage. What kinds of things was he capable of? Maybe you’re just projecting.

“And Sarah?” You think of her, her sweet smile and quick wit.

Tommy’s head drops, he shakes his head once.

“No….really?” It’s such a stupid question to ask. As if he’d make such a terrible joke.

At first, you’re overwhelmed by the anger you feel. It grips you tight around your throat and you struggle to breath as Tommy continues.

“It was the night everything went down. The military had these orders to kill all civilians….we all got split up. Sarah and Joel were cornered by this soldier. I shot him but…. I got there too late…she, uh….yeah….”

The anger dissipates quickly. Because you know all too well that it’s not useful. You’re completely powerless, it won’t fix anything. So all that momentum and energy comes screeching to a halt. You’re left thinking of Joel, of what that loss must have felt like. What you’re feeling now probably isn’t a fraction of what he felt. And you feel terrible.

“No,” you choke out, the frustration fizzling into grief. “She was so-”

All that time you’d spent with her, all those years ago, yet you still can see her so vividly.

Something you’ve always longed for is the ability to know, the second you meet someone new, just how much they are going to change your life. You think of Sarah, standing timidly at the end of your driveway, asking to use your landline. That was it. Then, she was always over at your place – eating your snacks, sprawled out on your couch watching television, asking for life advice as if you were qualified to give it. In the end, you’d probably learned more from her than what you had to offer. It wasn’t fair. Not to her. Not to Joel. Not to Tommy. Or you.

“I know, it’s-” Tommy starts, but he doesn’t finish. You understand. What is he supposed to say?

You’ve been a fortress, held together by nothing but sticks and plaster, and this is the blow that takes you down. It’s not just Sarah, it’s everything you’ve been holding back for the past week. That you’d hidden from Ethan because you didn’t want him to worry. But you can only take so much loss, pitching forward to sob into your palms.

You don’t cry like you used to. The tears come, but you don’t make any noise, save for the shaky, staggered inhales your body forces you to take to self-regulate. There’s a hand on your shoulder, and a weight settles next to you on the couch. “I’m s-sorry,” you manage through a faltering breath.

Tommy doesn’t say anything, but he wraps his arms around you. Something in the back of your brain reminds you that this could be a part of some long con. But you’re sick of listening to that voice. You lean into him, and accept the little bit of comfort, because you can’t remember the last time it’s been offered to you. So much time spent being strong, but you’re only human, and no one is built to endure this much without breaking.

“Where is he?” you ask Tommy, once you’ve finally managed to pull yourself together, his hand still between your shoulder blades. “Is he here?”

“Last time I saw him, we were livin’ in the Boston QZ.” Tommy shakes his head. “But it’s….been awhile since we’ve spoken.”

They had always seemed close, but you don’t press, because you get the impression it’s painful to talk about. You wonder what kind of man Joel must have become after losing Sarah. What else would he have to fight for? You know how loss has changed you, too. How all of this has changed you. For better, and for worse.

“I bet he would be glad to know you’re still here,” says Tommy, patting your back.

“Sure,” you say. “But it’s been a long time.”

“It has been. But you took good care of him and Sarah,” Tommy says. “So there’s a place for you here. If you want to stay, the house is yours.”

“Tommy, I can’t-” You aren’t really sure why you are refusing. It’s all so much. And it doesn’t even make sense to do it, because where had you been planning to go to begin with? You’re just stubborn. You know if you stop moving, everything will catch up to you.

“You don’t have to decide tonight. But at least wait until you’re back on your feet.”

“Is that…a joke?” you glance towards your ankle, relieved to find some remaining proof of your sense of humor, something you’re pretty sure you can’t go on without.

Tommy seems to share this relief, smiling gently. “It wasn’t intentional.”

There’s a lull, then: “Maria was a lawyer, too. She could use your help on the council.”

You sniff, wipe at a stray tear that falls at the mention of your old life, the job that you were constantly complaining about. Everything had been perfect, and you had taken it for granted. “I don’t know how much of that stuff I even remember.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re family,” Tommy speaks definitively. “Maybe not technically. But eventually…you would’ve been.” That makes you ache, and he goes on. “It’s the least I can do.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-April 10, 2024-

The wind rustles the leaves of the trees, through the windchimes that hang off your back porch. The sun is on the horizon, you can tell because there’s a red glow behind your eyelids. Huffing, you fold your body forward over your feet, pulling yourself towards the floor by the backs of your ankles, before stepping back into a lunge.

The sound of a door sliding up interrupts the quiet, then two plates hit a glass tabletop.

“Breakfast.”

You open your eyes. Ethan’s head is tilted as he glances over at you. “I can’t believe you still do this shit everyday.”

“Old habits die hard.” You push yourself up off the tattered blanket you’ve been using as a yoga mat and roll it up. “Gotta stay limber.”

It’s the truth. You’re in your forties now, and have spent the last twenty years under constant physical and mental stress. If there’s anything you can do to reverse the damage and be a little kinder to your body, you’re going to do it.

You put your hands on your hips and look at the omelets he’s prepared. “Wow,” you say. “You know, you’re becoming quite the chef.”

“One of us has to.”

You ignore his dig to take a sip of the tea he’s prepared you. “What are you doing up so early?”

“Patrol. I have to leave in like 20 minutes. Are you going out today?”

“Tomorrow,” you correct, sitting in the chair across from him. “But today I have to meet with Eugene, and then I told Maria I’d look after the baby while she gets some work done.”

“Makes sense. Tommy told me they’re hardly sleeping. How is she?”

“She’s doing good. But…there used to be this saying…It takes a village.”

Ethan considers this. “I still don’t know how you and dad looked after me all those years.”

“You were five years old, not five weeks. At least you could walk.”

“That’s still young. It must’ve been hard.”

“It was but….” you shrug. “We made it.”

Ethan looks into the backyard, like he’s contemplating the past two years you’d spent in this house. “You think this is it?”

After Tommy had brought you to Jackson, you’d never left. Will it last? Is really what he’s asking. It’s easy to feel jaded. The last place you’d been before Jackson had housed you for almost a decade. It hadn’t been nearly as nice as this, but it had its appeal. Today, you feel hopeful. “It’d be nice if it was.”

Ethan seems comforted by your answer. “I don’t remember much…from those days. Back at the beginning of everything.”

“That’s probably for the best,” you say. There are so many things from that time you’d erase from memory if given the chance. Some things never felt less jarring, even with time.

Ethan looks down at his food. “I miss them. I wish I got to know them better.”

You think of your brother, of Elizabeth. His parents. “You knew them,” you assure him. “And they loved you.”

Ethan studies the divots in the glass of the patio table. He’d grown up to be a spitting image of his dad. In fact, if Vincent were still alive, you would’ve found a way to give him shit about it. I knew you were self-absorbed, but don’t you think cloning yourself is a little extreme? But he’s not here, so you whisper those sorts of things when no one else can hear you, and hope that somehow he can.

He finishes his last bite of food and stands, towering over you, tall and lanky. When he reaches to collect his plate, you stop him. “I’ll get it. Don’t want you running late.”

“Thanks,” he leans down and gives you a quick hug. “I’ll be back before dinner.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The sun is about to set when he returns. You’re back from Maria’s, mellowing out on the couch with your knitting while listening to an old comedy album you’d found the last time you were on patrol.

“Hey,” you crane your neck to see him kicking off his boots in the foyer. Taking your shoes off when you walk in a house was a habit that had taken some getting used to. Before Jackson, you’d been so used to sleeping in your clothing, your shoes, knife and gun curled by your side, ready to grab at a moment's notice. The first week you’d lived here, you and Ethan had slept on the couches in the living room and refused to separate.

In general, there were a lot of things that had taken some getting used to while you were settling in. But humans have a natural instinct to put down roots. It was only a matter of time before you’d start to thaw out. And boy did you thaw.

For a long time, you were resistant to staying. At first, it was just for the night, then, it was until your foot got better. Your foot got better, and then you wanted to put on some weight. Then one day, you were sitting in the Tipsy Bison, sandwiched in a booth listening to Tommy brazenly flirt with Maria while watching Ethan joke with the kid his age working at the bar. It had been three months, and you didn’t want to leave anymore.

Twenty years of running, of not knowing when your next meal was coming from, or what could be lurking around every corner. It was a different kind of exhaustion, and the second that you felt safe, it all caught up to you. All you did for the first two months was sleep.

You woke only when Maria dropped by. Like Tommy had said, Maria had been a lawyer before. A prosecutor, however, so the work was different. You’d had a good laugh over the fact that you were raised by a ruthless criminal defense attorney with questionable clientele, because that was her worst nightmare. She was always enthusiastically telling you about things happening amongst the town council, and would even ask for your expertise. When you were done sleeping off the exhaustion, she’d extended you an offer to work for the town council.

Not leaving your house for weeks you assumed would earn you the reputation of the town recluse. But when you started to participate in community affairs, no one gave you any grief. That was probably thanks to Ethan, who from the beginning, fit right in. He was desperate for a social life outside of you, and more importantly, with kids his actual age.

Between helping Maria on the council, and Eugene with his….business…you didn’t go out on patrol too often. But you were glad you and Ethan had managed to find some sort of normalcy in Jackson. Even though you’d never admit this to him, the last group you’d lived in had some…..questionable traditions.

“Did Tommy come by already?” Ethan asks as he strolls into the living room and practically throws himself down on the couch.

“No,” you say. “Was he supposed to?”

“He said he was coming over tonight because he has a surprise for you or something?”

“A surprise?” you ask. “What?”

“I don’t know,” Ethan says, sounding slightly annoyed by your questions. Sometimes, you still get glimpses of the fifteen-year-old boy he once was. He had always been well-behaved, but those sorts of things slipped through on occasion.

“Hmmm,” you return to your knitting, but don’t think much of it. It’s not like Tommy coming over is out of the ordinary. If it wasn’t him walking through your front door, it was Maria, and you and Ethan were over at theirs several times a week as well – whether it was for dinner or to help out with their new baby.

You think about what Tommy had told you when he first encouraged you to stay. He’d called you family. At the time, you didn’t think that was true. But now, it was. Maybe you weren’t bonded together by blood, but you’d grown to care for each other as if you were. Opening your heart used to feel impossible, painful even….but all the people who had helped you at your lowest had proven otherwise. Shutting them out only made things worse. After everything you’d been through, all you had left were the people you cared about. What else was there? It was stupid to do anything else but love.

There’s a knock on your screen door, and Ethan is the first to practically jump off the sofa. You don’t get up right away, figuring that Tommy will stroll in shortly.

Instead, you hear more voices than you were expecting, the screen door closing behind Ethan, his muffled “Nice to meet you.”

The sun is setting, and the last thing you want to do is go and meet someone who's new to the community to make small talk. But then you hear Ethan call for you. You need to be a good member of the community and keep up appearances. Begrudgingly, you lift yourself out of the sofa and walk down the hallway to your front door.

You slide into your sneakers, pull on your pair of aviators to protect from the intense light of the sun on the horizon, stepping onto the patio.

“What’s up?” you ask, stepping out onto the patio next to Ethan, and Tommy is to your right, though you are hardly aware of him as you focus immediately on the man standing in front of you.

You recognize him instantly. It doesn’t matter how much time has passed. It doesn’t matter that his hair is more gray now than it is brown. It doesn’t matter or that the lines on his face are deeper, and his shoulders slump under an invisible weight. There’s a scar on his temple that hadn’t been there before, and his eyes, once warm and sparkling, seem impossibly cool and distant. He’s hardened by the world, and so are you.

“Joel?”

It’s a stupid to pretend like you don’t know that it’s him. Like you need the confirmation. And you lower your sunglasses, just in case you’re seeing something you want to see, and not what’s actually in front of you.

When you meet his eyes, his jaw clenches, and something unrecognizable flashes in his eyes.

“How are-” you step forward, and you’re not sure why.

What were you expecting, a hug? A kiss? Some grand reunion, like you hadn’t lived separate lives for two decades, like you hadn’t loved someone else in the meantime. He probably had, too. So it’s not like you’d be able to pick up where you left off and forget all the things that happened. It wouldn’t be possible, but you have an instinctual urge to wrap him in your arms, to press your face into his chest as you did so many times before. You’d tilt your head back to kiss his neck, his jaw, and to feel his stubble scratch your face – you’d do it anyway, because you don’t care if it hurts you.

Joel steps backwards just as you move closer. There’s a young girl hovering behind him, the same way that Sarah used to. But it’s hard to see much of her from where you are standing. His eyes flicker between you and Ethan, and then he turns on his heel and walks down the pathway without a word.

“Ellie!” he calls out, and doesn’t even so much as glance over his shoulder. It’s the first time you’ve heard him speak, and his voice gruffer, a bite to it that didn’t exist before.

You don’t call out after him, don’t trail after him down the street like the girl or Tommy does. But you do stare after him until he turns the corner and disappears from view. The only evidence he’d been standing in front of you at all is the pounding of your heart and a sick feeling in your stomach.

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fappinreborn · 4 months

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Hiya, new anon here. Really love your preggo control app fics. I’ve an idea for one if you’re interested…

Using the app to mess around with a heavily pregnant work colleague/boss (either someone they like / dislike, depending on what vibe you want to go for). Starting and stopping the labor throughout the day, accelerating and pausing it at inconvenient moments. The mother-to-be struggling through her hectic day of board meetings, interviews, client calls, trying not to push and give birth in her clothes in front of all these people (but she does)

Pregnancy Control Part 4: Workaholic

After the date that turned into a car birth, the girl hasn't talked to me yet. I had a feeling that she may have rejected me, but since the answer is still uncertain, I needed a distraction. Luckily, I know someone perfect for my next target.

I was browsing social media, saw a group photo of my old team on my feed, and noticed that my ex-boss's pregnant. She had always been a pain in a butt, micromanaging the team and myself, so I took it upon myself for a fun revenge.

I drove on the weekdays to my old office and the phone pinged me about my boss's status: Name: Clarisse

Pregnancy: 35 weeks, 3 days

Labor: Not yet (First contraction in 34 days, 2 hours, 10 minutes )

Babies: 1 (projected to be 7.5lbs)

Current Activity: Work

Birth plan: Hospital

I linked her up and began to work. As usual, first order of business is to bump her pregnancy to overdue and increasing the baby's size to 10lbs. She's not aware of the changes yet so next, I... entranced? suggested?... hypnotized her to focus on the work and ignore the birthing signs.

With the setting ready, I kicked off her labor... and went straight to the birthing process. She now feel the full brunt of the birthing pain and her own baby's coming down. But she's a trooper and pressed on, working to get calls and potential new clients.

I nudged a bit more and the baby's crowning now into her workpants. A bulge's forming between her legs and getting more visible as her body's pushing. As the head reached fully crowning, I finally paused her birth so she can "enjoy" that burning ring of fire.

This went on for a couple hours until she got a meeting with her superiors, the Board of Directors. Other people was noticing her... tiredness, but she brushed it off. The meeting was long and arduous and when it's time for her to speak, I set her to stand and present with the contraction picking up speed and slowly undo the hypnosis...

Soon enough, she broke free and screamed in front of the directors as the baby's head popped out, panicking as the baby's making a massive bulge between her legs. Before anyone's able to help her out, I made sure that the baby came out into her pant leg so that she fully birthed her baby into her pants.

I was... satisfied with the fun revenge, though I doubt she'll get fired over this.

Anyway, I came a lot and then got a ping from the control app, notifying me that a new feature has been added. I blinked a lot as I did not believe such a feature is possible, but the app has never been wrong so far.

The pregnancy control app is satisfied with the births and has awarded me the ability to give the pregnancy... to myself.

"This... this is gonna be fun." I said.

#birth kink #giving birth #labor kink #birth denial #panty birth #clothing birth #public birth #clothed birth #rapid pregnancy

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piratefishmama · 1 year

Text

Beware The Thorns | Part 1

(a NSFW multi-part ficlet)

“Who was that Eds?”

“Mind your business, shithead” Eddie pocketed his phone, he recognised the number the moment it flashed up on his work phone, a device he always had on him regardless of where he was, he could be at a FUNERAL, and he’d have that phone on him.

In this instance however, it was merely a family dinner. Well… family and the Henderson’s, so yeah. Family. He’d excused himself upstairs and answered as soon as he was out of earshot.

Evidently, he’d been followed.

“I heard you say you loved them… are you seeing someone?” Eddie tried really hard to not be insulted by his tone, a weird mixture of disturbed amazement, with just a dash of disbelief for flavour. Was it that much of a stretch to see him dating someone?

Was it that unbelievable to the person he’d practically grown up with, that he could find someone who’d like him?

Maybe it was. Didn’t mean he had to like it; his job had kept him away from actually… dating anyone.

“Maybe I am, again, mind your damn business.” Of course they didn’t know what he was, what he did to earn his money, he’d spun some lie years ago about an online business because ‘rockstar’ had to… actually have evidence, he had an actual legitimate website to keep the lie going, nothing ever really went through it, but… it worked to keep the questions at bay.

Nobody asked, and he didn’t tell, he was a grown ass adult, he didn’t NEED to tell anyone.

Dustin sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat, good… he’d have never gotten anything out of him anyway “fine, fine don’t tell me… don’t tell meee, your only brother.”

“We’re not even relat—”

“The best man at your future wedding.”

“Since when was I getting marri—”

“The Wan Kenobi to your Obi.”

“What the—”

“I am happy for you though, the both of you! I hope you’ll bring him home someday, I’m sure we’d all like to meet him” Eddie’s eyes widened… he’d never… fuck … he’d never said anyth— “What, you think you’re all crafty? C’mon Eddie, you can’t even sit normally.”

“The fuck has that got to do with anything?!”

“Y’know… gay people… they can’t sit properly… in chairs…? Is that wrong?” at least that proved that Dustin could be uncertain about some things.

“You’ve been on that stupid app again, haven’t you?” He had the decency to look guilty at the very least. “The fuck have I told you?”

“It’s dumb and addictive and I should stop, BUT IT’S HELPING ME LEARN!”

“It’s filling your head with bullshit! Fine, I’m gay, what the fuck ever. Go back downstairs for the love of all that is holy, and just give me a minute to process that you’ve been theorising my sexuality based on how I sit, and don’t you DARE tell anyone.”

“Oh, c’mon Eddie! You’re old enough to come out now, you have your own place, your own business! Plus, we all love you, no judgement here, this is a judgy free zone.”

“I will rip out your larynx and shove it up your ass if you even THINK of telling them.”

“But… how will you know if i’m thi—okay I won’t say anything, i wouldn't say anything. Not my place.” Eddie had levelled him with a look, a single, rage squint look, a look which promised imminent pain if he did not take his nosy ass and remove it from his presence, and he’d accepted that look for what it was. A promise.

Not just a threat.

“I’m gonna have to go early, my… my boyfriend, will be home tonight, the ridiculous idiot never has food in so I’m gonna go sort that out.”

“You’re buying his food for him? Eddie… that’s… he’s not just using you for money is he cause that’s really bad.”

“No dumbass, he’ll give it me back.”

“Right away?”

“YES, right away.”

“Not just promises he doesn’t intend to keep?”

“Dustin, I will brutally murder each and every one of your characters in graphic detail within five minutes of every campaign for the next year if you do not—”

“Okay!” Hands up in surrender, Dustin took a step backwards, a threat to his precious characters was no laughing matter, even if Eddie would struggle to make that kind of threat happen, the risk was there! He still had to ask “is… is he good though?” Of course, Eddie could threaten all he liked.

Dustin was his little brother, or as good as! It was his job to be insufferable.

The question however, made him think, he could pick any of them, any one of his clients to mould this imaginary boyfriend from, maybe mix and match, bring him to life from attributes of all of them, that’d be fine right? Nobody but Dustin really knew he was dating so… he wouldn’t be introducing them to him.

Perfectly coiffed brown hair… a warm smile… big, strong hands, a constellation of pretty moles dotted in places Eddie knew far too well. There was no amalgamation of faces, no mixture of personalities to make the perfect one, just a soft smile, warm hands, broad shoulders, muscle, and perfectly soft, thick brown hair… his favourite.

“Yeah… he’s… he’s great, Dustin… you’d like him” big strong softie he was, and it was so easy falling into the role of his boyfriend too, he’d been paying for that package for what felt like forever, he felt like he knew the man inside and out, like the back of his own hand.

He was the only one to have paid for that package continuously for over more than a few months, even Hagan only paid for it every now and then, never continuously. He thought Steve would have gotten tired of him by now but… It’d been two years.

Some people expected MARRIAGE after two years in a relationship.

Steve Harrington seemed to want him more and more by the day and the surprising thing, was that the thought didn’t invoke the same level of panic that he were SURE it would if anyone else were to have those wants, those needs of him.

He felt… comfortable with Steve, safe with him. Like he could show hints of himself, the real himself without the fear of losing him, of putting him off.

“You look so dopey smiling like that, y’know? You must really like him, huh?” He’d been smiling? Fuck… “Well… anyone who can make you smile like that just thinking about him is alright by me, I’ll cover for you, you can go sort his food out if you want.”

This was fine… totally completely fine. Would be better if Dustin could actually keep his mouth shut but alas. Dustin had a history of foot in mouthisms that'd gotten them into trouble after trouble after trouble years on the trot.

Eddie probably shouldn't have continued to tell him stuff, but that was his little brother so. He had to.

“Uh… yeah… yeah I like him. Thanks, I’ll… grab my coat, just tell em I feel sick or somethin so I’m goin home” he didn’t say goodbye, Dustin probably did that for him, just grabbed his coat and snuck out like he used to do as a teenager when he simply couldn’t be bothered dealing with his fathers drunk ranting about queers being put in cages.

He did have to come to one very unfortunate conclusion after that conversation though. After seeing Steve instead of a mishmash of faces, after being unable to put a random face to the title and spin it as truth.

Feelings were there. Real feelings. The mushy shit. The wants for more that he couldn’t have. The Pretty Woman syndrome without the corny and frankly rushed happy ending.

It couldn’t continue anymore, what he had with Steve had to end. Feelings… real feelings… he couldn’t have real feelings for his clients. It put his whole career on the line, his way of life gone in an instant all because his heart had to go all gooey for someone who probably didn’t even give a real fuck about him.

This was fine.

After the evening was done… he’d end it, terminate their contract. It was for the best. Steve deserved better than him anyway.

Part 3

#PirateWrites #BewareTheThornsFiclet #No Upside Down AU #Steddie #Escort!Eddie #Shady!Steve

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hederasgarden · 2 years

Text

Intoxicated

Summary: A drunken confession to your best friend leads to more than you expected. Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x F!Reader W/C: 3.3K Rating: Explicit, 18+ only. Semi public sex (fingering), spitting kink, alcohol use, voyeurism and dirty talk (Jake has a smart mouth). Some themes are untagged. No descriptions are given to the reader but there is mention of public hair. A/N: This only took me three months to write but here we are. I am once again incapable of writing straight smut so sorry about that. Thank you N, @mayhem24-7forever and @wildbornsiren for looking this over and @colewrites for my beautiful banner!

Masterlist ♡ Top Gun Masterlist

The outside of the bar is dark with an unremarkable facade, but as soon as you pass through the front door you’re greeted by warm air and the low crackle of an old jukebox. It’s crowded, buzzing with a kind of relaxed energy that puts you at ease despite your nerves. You fiddle with the hem of your shirt, searching for Jake and coming up empty. Uncertain of what to do, you shift your weight from foot to foot until the door behind you opens again. A boisterous group of men push inside, bringing in a blast of crisp fall air with them.

With no other choice but to move, you step further into the room, head for the bar and slide into an empty seat. This isn’t your normal scene, the decor is dated and the air hazy, but the dim lighting and dark corners are perfect for what Jake has planned. Your skin warms at the thought. Too much whiskey and a late night at the Hard Deck had you spill your guts to him.

As always, Jake was there to listen. You’d been friends since childhood and even when he joined the Navy and the years stretched on, your friendship remained. Of course, you nursed a crush on him when you were younger. How could you not? He was handsome and charismatic. Even though those feelings waned as you grew into adulthood, every once in a while Jake would look at you a certain way or flash a particular smile and it would all come rushing back.

“This seat taken?”

You look up, some of the anxiety leaving your body when you meet a familiar pair of green eyes. Jake always looks handsome but doubly so tonight with a light stubble covering his chin and his golden hair tousled into loose waves. The sweater he wears is a pale green, clinging to his chest and the curve of his biceps. All the moisture in your mouth seems to evaporate and you don’t even realize you’re staring until he clears his throat, drawing your eyes back up to his face.

“W-wide open,” you stutter.

He smirks, dragging the chair close enough to yours that when he sits, your thighs touch. “Can I buy you a drink? You look a little lonely,” he says, laying an arm over the back of your seat.

Even though he’s not quite touching you, his nearness sends a wave of heat through your whole body. You look away, gathering the words you want to say but when you look back, he’s even closer and they slip away.

“Jake…” You’re supposed to pretend like you’re strangers, it was part of the fantasy, but now you just feel silly.

“That’s not my name, sweetheart,” he tells you with an arched brow. “Now come on, don’t be rude. You look like a white wine kind of girl.”

“Sure,” you conceded, letting him flag down the bartender for your drink and ordering himself a beer. Alcohol will help settle your nerves, something Jake is well aware of. You offer him a thankful smile and he winks at you.

“So, what’s a girl like you doing in a bar like this?” He questions. It’s a terrible line but Jake makes it work.

“I was meeting my friend but I think he bailed on me.”

“His loss. My lucky day,” Jake replies just as the bartender sets down your drinks.

He clinks his against yours and takes a long swig. You stare at his throat, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he drinks, and nearly getting lost in the way his muscles and tendons move. Something so mundane shouldn’t be so erotic but the sight has you crossing your legs and warmth rushing under your skin.

“Drink up,” Jake reminds you, tapping the bar.

You gulp down nearly half the glass in a fit of anxiety, meeting Jake’s amused grin over the rim.

“Do I make you nervous, sweetheart?” He asks, leaning into your space.

“Yes,” you answer automatically.

Normally he puts you at ease but there’s something in the air tonight, a strange charge that excites and terrifies you all at once.

“We’ll have to fix that,” he tells you. “Maybe something a little stronger than wine?”

“Yeah,” you agree, touching your neck and glancing at the stocked bar. “Whiskey?” You suggest.

“My kind of girl,” he praises, raising two fingers to grab the bartender's attention. “Four shots of Jameson.”

You reach for the first glass, needing it to settle your anxiety and give you the burst of courage to take what you want tonight.

"Unh-uh," Jake chastises, plucking the shot glass from your lips and downing it before you can stop him. You frown, confused but then he grasps your jaw and tips your head back.

When you realize what he intends, your eyes widen and you suck in a sharp breath. He stares at you, his green eyes dark with desire and you nod every so slowly, steeling yourself when he leans over your face and presses his lips to yours. Slowly, you open your mouth and he follows suit, a warm rush of whiskey flooding your mouth. You gulp it down, feeling the burning warmth spread across your chest.

You expect Jake to pull back but instead he tilts your head back even further, kissing you breathless. You grasp at the hand holding your jaw to steady yourself. His tongue is warm and insistent against yours and by the time he pulls back, your vision is hazy and your panties cling damply to your body.

"Took that like a champ," he tells you with a wink. "How about another one?"

You nod, dazed. This time his fingers press into your cheeks until you open your mouth. Jake takes another shot and urges your head even farther back until you’re peering up at him. His mouth hovers close to yours but instead of kissing you he simply parts his lips and lets the liquor fall into your waiting mouth, watching you with those clever eyes as you swallow it all down. He releases your jaw and soothes his thumb over your cheek, pleased.

The bar swims in your vision as he guides you to sit up fully, although it has nothing to do with the alcohol in your system and everything to do with the man in front of you. He stares you down with a hungry look but you don't miss the subtle lift of his brow, his way of checking in on you covertly.

“Peachy keen,” you whisper the agreed upon phrase.

His lips turn up into a Cheshire grin that has your body buzzing. “You’d let me do anything I wanted right now, wouldn’t you sweetheart?” He asks, dragging his lips over your cheek. His stubble tickles and the rush of warm air over the shell of your ear has you whimpering and clutching at his sweater.

“Please,” you beg, eyes fluttering as he kisses the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Tell me what you want.”

The alcohol swirls through your system, warming you from the inside out and giving you the bold words you need to make your fantasy happen. “I want you to take me… here in the bar.”

“How can I say no when you ask me so sweetly?” He questions, drawing back.

You watch him take the two remaining shots quickly and drop a bundle of cash on the bar. He stands and pulls you to your feet, linking your fingers together. You follow him through the crowd. All the anxiety that plagued you before is gone, what remains is a sweet sort of anticipation that makes your body sing. Jake doesn’t stop until you’re at the back of the bar, tucked into a dark corner where both of you are enveloped by shadows and partially hidden from view. He wastes no time in turning you to face out towards the crowd, molding his chest to your back.

“You still want this?” He asks.

There’s no pet name or flirty tone when he speaks this time and the hand that squeezes your hips is light and comforting. This is the real Jake, your longtime friend checking in on you. The care and concern behind his question makes your heart swell and you relax back into his hold.

“I’m sure,” you promise him, laying your hand over his. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” he replies, something different in his voice that you weren’t expecting. “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

“Jake…” Surprised by his admission, you start to turn in his arms but he stops you.

“Don’t,” he requests quietly. “Tonight’s about you. I shouldn’t…” He trails off and sighs.

“It can be about you too,” you promise him, squeezing his hand.

You hear him swallow and take a deep breath. Jake’s never been good with emotions or difficult feelings, leaning on charm and quick wit to sidestep hard conversations. The fact he’s even admitted this much surprises you. Maybe it’s the alcohol or the fact he doesn’t have to face you while speaking that has him confessing the truth. Either way, you’re grateful.

“We can talk after if you want,” you suggest, turning your head to catch his eye. The uncertain look on his face is so uncharacteristic that you have to push down the urge to reach for him. There have been precious few times you’ve seen him like this and know better than to try to make him talk more.

“Yeah,” he agrees with a nod, looking away from you.

You turn back around and stare straight ahead. A beat of silence passes before Jake speaks again. When he does his voice is low and confident.

“Spread your legs,” he directs, tapping your right foot to urge you to widen your stance. He’s a warm, solid presence behind you and his cologne invades your senses when you take a deep, steadying breath. “That’s good,” Jake croons, squeezing your hip.

When his other hand slips below the waistband of your jeans, your eyes slide closed. The light touch of his fingers through the soft curls of your mound dredges a moan from your lips. He seems content to pet you for a few moments before his fingers eventually delve between your lips with unhurried confidence that makes your skin tingle. You rock your hips into his hand and squeeze his arm.

“Greedy,” he chastises. “You let just anyone do this to you, sweetheart?”

“No.” You pant, words catching when he finds your clit and rolls it between his thumb and forefinger. Sparks skitter along your nerves, a rush of pleasure warming your belly. The way his calloused skin catches on your delicate flesh nearly makes your knees buckle. “Bet you do this all the time though,” you shoot back, determined to stay in character and make him work for it.

“No. It takes a special kind of girl to get me here. Shameless and needy. To let me fuck her in public.” Jake tells you. His breath is hot across your cheek and you can feel the press of his erection against your lower back. “Dirty girl.”

“I’m not,” you start to protest but it’s cut off when he slides two fingers inside without even a hint of resistance.

“This greedy cunt is telling me a different story,” Jake whispers, pumping them in and out of you. “It’s begging for more than two fingers. Think she’ll need three to be satisfied.”

You have no response to his smart mouth, just a breathy, pained moan that you fight to keep in your throat as he strokes you leisurely. Every few seconds he teases his thumb against your clit but it’s never the right kind of pressure. You try to follow his touch but a strong arm across your middle pins you to his body and gives him all the control.

“Please, please, please,” you chant, throwing your head back when he pushes a third finger inside.

You feel full to the brim and your cunt aches, sucking hungrily on his fingers. The hand across your stomach moves north and he cups your breast, squeezing one and then the other, making your arch and squirm. Jake pulls roughly at the front of your shirt until your bra is exposed and he wastes no time reaching in and cupping your naked breast. He rolls your nipple between his fingers at the same time his other thumb returns to your clit. There’s nothing teasing about the mercilessly way he works over your tender bundle of nerves or fucks you with his figners.

The orgasm that he’s teased you with rises sharply, emanating from your aching cunt and up your chest. Your hips lift and fall of their own accord, your body shameless in its quest for pleasure. Jake’s calloused fingers move from your chest up to your throat. They rest lightly over the delicate flesh as he keeps working you over and presses kisses to the side of your neck.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Ride my fingers.”

You’re mindless at this point, headless to the sounds you make or the way your body chases every drop of satisfaction it can wring out from Jake. When you finally come down for your orgasm your eyes flutter open, and the world is hazy and muted. The landscape of the bar is blurred, out of focus until you blink away the tears in your eyes. Jake’s still got his fingers buried inside you, his thumb slowly rubbing your oversensitive clit and sending little shocks of painful pleasure through your nerves.

Your eyes finally focus and your whole body freezes when you meet a pair of warm brown eyes. A man is sitting at the closest table staring right at you. He’s wearing a ridiculous Hawaiian print shirt and drinking from a glass of amber liquid. His thick mustache nearly obscures his top lip from view. There’s a hunger in his gaze that has you pressing back into Jake uncertainly.

“Easy,” Jake whispers, kissing your neck. “He’s a friend. I know you wanted someone to watch.”

You relax at Jake's reassurance. He withdraws his fingers only to plunge them in again. A soft gasp escapes your lips and it’s a fight to keep your eyes from closing. You just came but, God, you’re pretty sure you might be able to go again with the way Jake is working you over and the knowledge that someone’s watching.

“If you want him to go, tell me.”

“No,” you moan, lifting your hips and arching your back as you stare at the man.

You never expected Jake to deliver on this part of your fantasy, assuming he’d just fuck you in an alcove of the bar and call it a night. Knowing he went this far to give you what you want makes your heart so full it almost overrides the other feelings he’s giving you. You watch Jake's friend reach below the table, tugging at his jeans. Even with the hazy lighting, you can see just how turned on he is by the show you’re putting on.

He’s not close enough to hear but he doesn’t need to be, his dark eyes watching your lips part with every moan. Jake tugs on your bra until it slips low enough to expose your whole chest to the man’s view. You keep your eyes open as long as you can, locked with the stranger as Jake roughly squeezes each breast and tweaks your nipples. The fingers buried in your cunt are working overtime to bring you to another earth-shattering orgasm. When it comes over you again, your eyes close and you slump forward, legs weak.

The man is still watching when you look up, passing a shaky hand over his mouth before downing his drink. Jake presses a kiss to the back of your neck and withdraws his fingers. You hear him suck them clean behind you and heat spreads across your face.

“Good girl,” Jake whispers, surprising you by sliding his hand back inside your underwear and sweeping through your messy folds. “I want another taste,” he explains, noisily cleaning them again.

There isn’t much for you to do but try to catch your breath and let him hold you up as his friend watches. Carefully, Jake buttons your pants and pulls your bra and shirt back into place. A hand smoothes over the crown of your head, fixing any flyaways. You know he’ll make sure you’re presentable before you leave but that doesn’t fix how dirty and debauched you feel inside. It’s the feeling you’ve been after all this time. You press your legs together and you touch your throat, taking in a breath.

“Was that what you wanted?” Jake asks.

You don’t think you can speak so you just nod.

“I enjoyed myself too,” he tells you.

“What about your friend?” You question.

“He’s just here to watch, I don’t like to share,” Jake assures you.

You look back at the other man in time to see him nod at Jake and stand before disappearing into the bar. You wait a beat before turning around fully to face Jake. The expression on his face is hard to read but relaxes when you stand up on your tiptoes to brush a kiss over the corner of his mouth. You rest a hand on his arm and smile.

“Thank you for this Jake. I don’t even know how to say thank you.”

“Let me take you home tonight.”

“Just for tonight?” You question, toying with a loose thread of his sweater. It’s hard to hold his gaze, you’re afraid of giving away too much.

"I want you every night if you’re willing to give it to me, darlin," he admits, tucking his finger under your chin and lifting your face to his.

“You want something more with me? Something real?” You ask. Jake looks away, the tendons under his cheek flexing. “It’s okay,” you promise, touching his jaw as a small part of you deflates. “I know you don’t do this stuff. Emotions and relationships.”

“You’re not most women,” he clarifies, looking at you intently. “You’re… you.”

It’s as much of a confession as you’ll ever get from him. Your instinct is to kiss him and promise you feel the same but you know that’ll be hard for him. Instead, you take a step back and grin at him.

“Jacob Seresin, are you trying to ask me to go steady?” You tease.

He huffs and looks away, raking a hand through his thick hair. “Maybe.”

“Well, I accept,” you tell him, your confidence blooming at the way his green eyes cut back to you hopefully.

The smile that falls over his face is beautiful and you reach out, hooking two fingers into his belt buckle to tug him forward. “But first you need to take me home and finish the job.”

“I think I finished the job,” he tells you archly.

Slyly, you drop your hand to cup his obvious erection. He grunts, golden eyelashes fluttering as you squeeze his cock. “Not quite,” you argue. “We can discuss the hard part in the morning.”

“The hard part?” He questions, thrusting his hips forward.

You roll your eyes at the innuendo. “Emotions. The fact you might be in love with me.”

“If you can talk tomorrow, I didn’t do my job right."

"Jake…"

"We can talk in the morning," he agrees, looking serious.

“Good,” you reply, tilting your head up and stepping closer. Jake seems to understand what you want, cupping your jaw and kissing you sweetly.

“Let’s get you home before the alcohol wears off and you change your mind,” Jake says, nipping at your lips and linking your fingers together.

“Think you’re stuck with me now, Seresin.”

“Good. We’ve already established that I don't like to share.” he says, pulling you tightly to him and kissing you roughly.

♡

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jeankluv · 2 months

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Birdie - Satoru Gojo | Chapter 03

Words: 4,2k

Summary: You didn’t like him, at all. But due to your bad luck you would have to be forced to work with him and different circumstances end up leading you to the fact that perhaps the word dislike is not the one you use to describe him.

ac: _3aem (twt)

Warnings for this chapter: blood, abusive parents (Satoru’s parents are awful)

Tags: modern au, college au, fem!reader, academic rivals, he fell first, fluff, old money Gojo Satoru, abusive parents, slight slow burn, Satoru is a softy, secondary couple (Geto Suguru x oc), a bit of angst, no use of y/n, eventual smut, Gojo plays basketball

Author’s note: thank you so much to everyone who is liking, rebloging and commenting on this fic of mine, it makes me really happy. Thank you 💕

Materialist | previous chapter | next chapter

Links to the fic: wattpad | ao3

Two weeks had passed since you and Gojo became project partners, two weeks since the incident at the store, and two weeks since he offered to help you study. You initially refused, but things had changed quite a bit in those two weeks.

Gojo had remained as irritating as ever, but at times he showed a surprisingly kind side, making you doubt even of your own existence.

However, today, you had a strange sensation.

Observing the incessant glances and hushed whispers from the group in front, you felt an escalating desire to grab the stapler positioned before you and hurl it towards their heads, accompanied by a stern command to focus on their own affairs. The classroom atmosphere had been permeated by this spectacle for a good 20 minutes, and the source of their distraction was unmistakable – Satoru Gojo, seated right beside you, had become the center of attention.

Turning your attention away from the nosy group ahead, you focused intently on your screen, scouring for relevant information to contribute to the project. However, a gnawing unease prevented you from fully concentrating.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught sight of Gojo diligently searching for information as well. To your surprise, Gojo appeared unusually serene and subdued today. He had even arrived with a portion of his work completed, a contrast that left you feeling somewhat embarrassed, considering you hadn't even begun your part.

In your defense you would say that you needed to prioritize other works, whose due date was earlier.

But back to the topic you suppressed a nervous impulse, taking a piece of paper from one of your notebooks, uncertain of how to proceed.

“I accept your deal”

You jotted down the note, folded it discreetly, and left it on Gojo's keyboard without meeting his gaze. Why did your heart race so intensely over a simple study proposal? It shouldn't be this complicated, so why were you feeling like that? You observed as Gojo picked up the paper, unfolding it. What expression adorned his face now? Likely one of his irritating, confident smiles. Pushing these thoughts aside, you attempted to refocus on your task—searching for project-related information.

“When would you like to meet?” A shock ran through your body when you felt Gojo's voice in your ear.

You turned your face to meet Gojo's, just inches from yours, he was close, too close. From that distance you could clearly see every detail of his skin, even admiring the blue of his eyes even more. Your breaths mixed with each other. You opened your mouth to close it again instantly, you were speechless at that moment and you felt immense heat on your cheeks.

Gojo moved his eyes watching you, as if he wanted to memorize every little detail of your face. And that was just causing your nerves to kick into high gear. Could he look away? Could he blink? Could he just not look at you?

“You…” You tried to formulate words but apparently your brain didn't want to work at that very moment. Why? You wanted to scream.

Gojo raised an eyebrow. "I…?"

“Too close.” You were able to finally say.

Gojo moved away a little but without stopping to look at you. “So when?”

You looked at him and away. “This… this Sunday? I don’t have work that day.”

“Okay, in my apartment then.” He stopped looking at you and went to his computer.

“Wait, what?” You tried not to say it out loud.

Gojo looked back at you. “You have a better place.”

No you didn’t, but his apartment? That was very intimate, wasn’t it? Shit you were getting nervous and your heart was pounding on your chest like crazy. Stop.

“No…” You said defeated. “Okay, at your apartment on Sunday.” You said quietly so that only he could hear you, you didn't want anyone else to be aware of that meeting.

Gojo nodded in acknowledgment and returned his attention to his work, his demeanor still serious and distant. Despite agreeing to study together, a sense of discomfort lingered in your stomach. Gojo seemed too reserved, too distant.

The sudden ring of the doorbell snapped you out of your reverie. Had the class already ended? Lost in your thoughts, you hadn't realized how quickly time had passed. Hastily, you began packing your belongings into your backpack, noticing Gojo rising from his seat and exiting the classroom.

You shouldn't have cared about him leaving without a farewell or any of his usual jokes. Since being paired up, you'd wished for some distance, yet now, as he reverted to his usual self, it bothered you—and the worst part was that peculiar feeling lingered.

Leaving the class with your backpack, you scanned both directions, searching for the tall figure with white hair. At the end of the hallway, you spotted him, hands in his pockets, head down, strolling away. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of something indescribable.

Go!

Your heart urged you to move, to step forward, yet your legs remained rooted to the spot, your mind screaming at you to be sensible and not be deceived. Despite your internal turmoil, you fixated your gaze on him once more, only to see him accompanied by a tall, slender girl who seemed to exude wealth from a distance. You rolled your eyes as you observed her clinging to Gojo, his smile directed at her with a gallant air.

Turning sharply on your heels, you set off in the opposite direction, relieved that you hadn't succumbed to the impulse to approach him like a desperate puppy. Perhaps you'd watched too many American films, constructing elaborate scenarios in your head, painting Gojo as the mastermind of a cruel game, indifferent to your feelings and merely toying with you.

But why should it matter if that were true? You'd never harbored any fondness for him anyway, so why should his intentions affect you?

Walking through the corridors of your faculty, you made a conscious effort to push those unsettling thoughts to the back of your mind. Your priority was to focus on your next class. Fortunately, you were scheduled to be with Kyoko, and it happened to be your favorite class: the laboratory. It provided a welcomed opportunity to unwind and engage in unhurried conversations with Kyoko throughout the hour.

Most days in the laboratory involved analyzing products provided by the teacher to observe their reactions to different mechanical effects and subsequently creating detailed reports. The benefit was the option to work in pairs, and naturally, you and Kyoko were like two magnets – inevitably sticking together.

Stepping into the familiar laboratory, the customary scent greeted your senses. Scanning the room, you spotted your best friend already donned in her gown and gloves. She greeted you with a smile, indicating the seat beside her. Grabbing your own robe and gloves, you approached her, exchanging cheerful waves. After placing your backpack under the table and laying your notebook on top, you shed your jacket and began to put on your robe.

“When are we going to your apartment to start getting your things from it?” She turned around to look at you.

“On Sunday…” You realized it that instant. “Fuck… I told Gojo we would be studying together on Sunday.” You closed your eyes.

You didn’t have a lot of things in your old apartment but you needed to clean it to leave it perfect so the owner wouldn’t complain.

“Suguru asked me out that day.” She whispered and you looked at her with your eyes wide open.

“What? And you were going to cancel it?”

“Yeah, I mean you asked me first for your help, it wouldn’t be fair for me to go out on a date after telling you that I was going to help you out, right?”

“Kyoko… sometimes you are just too good hearted. Listen.” You hold her hand. “I will try to find another moment to study with him. And you, my sunshine will go out on that date.” You smiled and she smiled back. “And you will have the best time.”

“I love you.” She said. “Sometimes I think we should get married.”

You throw your head backwards and laugh. “It’s almost like we are married. And I love you too.”

“By the way, you haven’t met Shoko right?” You tilted your head, Shoko? “Oh you will love her, she is friends with Suguru and Satoru.”

“She is the girl that was with you in the picture.”

Kyoko nodded. “She is studying medicine and she is really cool, you will like her.”

You hummed. “I’m going to get jealous if you keep talking like that about her.” You joked.

“You know you are my only one.” She hugged you in a dramatic way.

“Okay class!” The teacher entered the classroom, making you and Kyoko pay attention to her. “Today we will be…”

You and Kyoko got to work with what your teacher had sent you. While you did the necessary procedures, Kyoko took sketches and photos so he could make the report later.

You left the sample in front of Kyoko, so that she could take a photo of it, and you sat on the stool, removing the quanta that had left your sweaty hands. You grabbed your phone and went to chat with Gojo.

You to Pain in the ass

Gojo, I can’t meet up with you on sunday, we will need to reschedule it

I hope you understand it

Efficiently utilizing your time, you left your phone upside down and powered up your PC. With the tasks completed and photos transferred, you and Kyoko delved into crafting the report. By the time the class concluded, you had already covered more than half of the report, allowing you to ease into the remaining work after returning from work.

You walked besides Kyoko, while listening to her complaining about one of her teachers and how he wanted them to make an essay of at least 10 pages talking about liquid crystals. You knew the concept, you had shared the first year with her and some classes now. But Kyoko had chosen to continue studying modern physics, she was clear that she wanted to dedicate herself to education after this.

You, on the other hand, had opted for astrophysics, classic. But since you were little it was a topic that you had been passionate about, you have the vague memory of your mother talking to you about it and explaining concepts to you, which at that time you did not understand and seemed like fantasy to you.

It was over the years that you discovered that your mother had also studied astrophysics and that in fact she had become a good astrophysicist. But meeting your disgusting father and everything that happened afterward ended up sinking her. At least that's what your grandmother told you, but she had always been reluctant to talk about it, first with the excuse that you were too young to understand it and then telling you that it was better if you didn't know more.

You entered the cafeteria and went to get a coffee, today you couldn't eat with Kyoko, Haibara had asked you if you could go earlier to replace him.

You grabbed your coffees and sat down in your favorite place. You took a sip of your coffee and noticed Kyoko's gaze. You knew there was something strange about you and that the question was on the tip of his tongue.

“Nothing happens Kyoko.” You said before her saying anything. “I can tell you were about to ask me what’s going on and nothing is happening.”

“And I know clearly you are lying here.” She said, grabbing coffee.

You sighed defeated. “I hate you…”

“You don’t.” She smiled, showing her teeths. “Now what’s going on in your little head.”

You pursed your lips. "Gojo was strange today, that's what. But it doesn't matter and I don't care."

She leaned on her hand and looked at you with those eyes she had. "Are you sure you don't mind?" You nodded your head. "From the moment you entered the laboratory, you have been thinking about that." You turned your head to avoid her gaze. "I don't think you don't care."

You snort. “It doesn't matter, he just behaved again as if I didn't exist. He's probably with that long-haired girl who smiled so stupidly at him."

Kyoko looked at you with his mouth half open and whispered your name. "Are you jealous?"

Are you jealous? Those three words caused you to almost choke on your coffee, almost because you ended up spitting it all out on the cafeteria table.

“Kyoko! You are crazy?”

“I’m not the one that got jealous over another girl.”

“I was not jealous! I was angry because he was being a dick.”

“Sure and why does it matter to you?” She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “You couldn’t stand him.”

“I… ugh leave me alone Kyoko.” You were so frustrated, irritated and angry.

You were not jealous about Satoru Gojo, you just couldn’t. You were just worried, worried because he was your partner. That’s it, he was your project partner and you just were worried. Jealous? Please that's nonsense, you weren’t jealous over that tall, slim, beautiful woman, that was nothing like you. You weren’t, you weren’t.

“I’m leaving.” You stood up.

“You didn't get angry did you?”

“I could never get angry at you, Kyoko.” You reassured her and she smiled. “But never say that again, because I’m not jealous, it’s just that, my dislike for him is just a little bit smaller okay!?” Kyoko pouted and waved goodbye to you.

You took your phone out of your jacket and looked for your headphones in your backpack, you needed to listen to music and escape a little. When you turn on the phone, the notification jumps to a new message.

Pain in the ass

Where are you?

You rolled your eyes. What was what he wanted now?

You to Pain in the ass

Leaving the cafeteria. Why?

Not even 10 seconds passed when a new message appeared in the chat.

Pain in the ass

Wait there, I’m coming

Now he wanted to see you? You huffed and rolled your eyes, putting your phone back in your pocket. The question is, why did you stay and wait for him? You had agreed to meet Haibara in 45 minutes, if you didn't leave now, you would be late. But something prevented you from leaving. You hated it.

“Birdie!” The stupid nickname again.

“Stop calling me that Gojo.” You said with a serious face.

“Hello.” Suguru next to him greeted you with a smile.

“Hi Suguru.”

“Why do you call him by his first name and me?” You rolled your eyes and ignored him.

“Is Kyoko inside?” You nodded and he smiled. “Well, then I’m going in. Bye.”

“I will break his jaw if he ever makes Kyoko cry.” You said when he was gone.

Gojo laughed besides you, until he saw your annoyed face. “Yeah… mhm why can't we meet on Sunday?”

“I need to take care of something.”

“What thing?”

“Doesn’t matter.” You looked away from his gaze.

“I can help you and we can study while I help you.”

“I don’t think moving out of an apartment and cleaning it’s a very good place for a studying session.”

“I think it’s an excellent studying session.” He clapped. “Then I will see you on Sunday. We will clean and study.”

You sighed, suddenly you missed the Gojo from that morning. “Alright… Now I have to leave.” You turned around and started walking away from him.

“Wait!” You felt Gojo grabbing your wrist to which you immediately pushed her away. What was he doing? “Sorry.” He took his hand away and he scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “I… just have a good day birdie.”

You nodded and thanked him. Surely he had hit his head today or something? First he comes to class with his spirits on the rocks and then he becomes a complete introvert?

Sat next to the window, on the bus, you pressed play on your playlist. You and Gojo had not even been companions for a week, but in this short time you had realized one thing and that was that it was extremely difficult to read. As much as he pretended to be extremely happy and always wanted to be laughing, there was something he was hiding. And today you had been able to read him a little, his blue eyes did not shine with the same intensity as other times, they were sad.

But why were you so intrigued to know what he was hiding? To know him more?

“What’s up with that face?” Haibara talked next to you.

“Nothing, just college things.”

He nodded. “Thank you again for coming earlier.”

“You know you don’t have to thank me.”

Haibara has been working here since before you arrived, the establishment belonged to his grandparents and since he was little he had been helping them on an ongoing basis, but when he entered university he decided to start working from time to time to help his parents cover college expenses. He had been the one who had taught you everything that had to do with the store and who had helped you balance your schedules. During the two years you had been there he had done a lot for you, which is why you didn't mind covering for him for a few hours from time to time.

“Then I will see you tomorrow.” He talked from the door. “Take care!”

“Bye!” You waved back at him.

Satoru Gojo pov

Satoru gripped the basketball tightly, but his heart wasn't in the game. Despite the sunny day and the familiar rhythm of the court, he couldn't shake off his low spirits. Following a visit to the grocery store, he returned to his parents' home, only to find his grandparents had departed. However, their absence didn't spare him from the impending lecture and ensuing conflict. It felt like déjà vu, as if he were six years old again, facing the consequences of breaking a plate. All he yearned for was the freedom to live life they way he wanted.

“You are acting strange today.” Suguru threw the ball back at him.

Satoru took it with both hands and sat on the ground, letting out a sigh. "I guess." He murmured. “Yesterday I was at my parents’ house again. I was there nearly two weeks ago and they called me again.”

“Ugh, I can imagine why you are like this.” Suguru sat next to her. “They are still beating you up for not having studied law? Or the fact that you are still single.”

“I guess both.” He laid down on the grass. “They want me to go with Utahime, as my date, to the charity dinner we are having next month.”

Suguru laughed. “Utahime would probably end it all rather than go with you somewhere as your date.”

“She would probably killed me.” He sighed. “Mei Mei approached me this morning, I also think her parents have told her something and she wants to be my date.”

“Well at least you know that with Mei Mei you wouldn't end up dead, maybe with less money.” Suguru joked.

Satoru grabbed his hair in resignation. “Ugh, just no. I don't want to go with anyone…”

“But there is someone.” Satoru looked at his friend.

Yeah, of course there was someone.

“Yeah… but if Utahime kills me, she would probably kill, revive me and then kill me again.”

“For how long have you been in love with her?”

“Suguru, shut up.” Satoru reproached him, closing his eyes. “To be in love is a big thing, I just have a crush on her.”

“You even used to say she was an angel.”

“And what did you want me to think if I was 6 years old and she disappeared so suddenly?” He opened his eyes and looked at the blue sky. “But…” He stood up and looked at his friend. “She doesn't seem to even remember me and for two years the only thing I've had from her has been to ignore me. The good thing is that she has accepted the deal I proposed. So I will try hard.”

“What deal?”

“She sucks in one of the subjects we share, and I am the best, of course.” He said arrogantly to which Suguru rolled his eyes. “I proposed teaching her for the exam that we have two weeks and if she passes, she would accept a date with me.”

“Are you telling me, she accepted that?”

“Of course she did. Look at my cute face.”

“More like your annoying ass.” Suguru pushed him back.

“So you and Kyoko are going out on a date right?” Satoru sat back and started playing with the ball.

“Yeah, I asked her out.” Suguru tried to hide the fact he was getting red but failed as his best friend started to laugh. “Satoru, don't make me punch.”

“Sorry sorry, but it’s kinda funny seeing you getting nervous over a girl.”

They both started to joke around as if they were 8 years old again, until Satoru's phone started ringing making them both sit back down on the grass. Satoru pulled the phone out of his pocket and groaned as he read the name on the screen.

Father

Hearing his friend's growl, Suguru looked askance at his best friend's screen and understood his reaction. He patted him on the back, trying to calm him down but he knew that as soon as he took that call Satoru would probably lose his nerve.

“Hello father.”

“Son, you’re mother and I need to talk with you. Please come to our house.” And he hanged out.

Satoru looked at the screen of his phone without saying a word. He felt like a tool for his parents, nothing else than that, just a tool.

“Satoru…” He heard Suguru calling him, bringing him back to reality.

“Huh?” He looked at his friends and back at the phone. “I have… I have to go.” He stood up.

“Satoru, call me if anything happens. Okay?” He nodded at his friends and went straight at his car.

As he drove, Satoru secretly wished for endless traffic, hoping to delay his arrival at his parents' house. Yet, time slipped away unnoticed, and suddenly, he found himself standing before them. Avoiding eye contact, his family instructed him to sit down, signaling the impending discussion of serious matters.

“You will be dropping your degree as soon as this term is over.” His father spoke.

“What?” Satoru blurted out, trying not to sound too abrupt.

“What you heard son.” His mother took the cup in front of her to drink from it.

“I don’t want to.”

“It’s not about what you want or you don’t.”

His father spoke coldly. “If not, what our family needs. And what our family needs is an heir to take over the position that your grandfather will leave when he retires.” He looked at Satoru. “We were pretty good when you tricked us and signed up for that degree behind everyone's back. But it’s ending now."

“You can not do that! I’m an adult, you can’t not…”

“Son, don't raise your voice.” Her mother spoke. “How can you be so insolent? We have given you everything you have ever wanted since you were born and when we ask you to do this for YOUR family you refuse?”

“Everything I ever wanted?” Satoru laughed.

Satoru couldn’t help but laugh bitterly at the irony of the situation, what bad joke was that? He had been spoiled from the moment he came into this world, all the toys, all the clothes, everything he wanted he had. But when he wanted to have his parents there for him he didn't have that.

“What type of joke is that mother?” Satoru looked at her. “You have given me everything I wanted? Where were the loving parents, eh? Where? You filled me with consent and gifts but never with what a child really needed, which was his parents.” Satoru raised his voice.

“Insolent child, how dare you raise your voice like that at your mother.” His father got up from the couch and approached Satoru.

"Are you going to hit me like you did when I was little?" Satoru smirked. “I guess those were the only times I've felt any physical contact from you.” And the first slap came, making Satoru's face turn around.

“Dear…” She muttered to her husband.

“If he doesn’t understand it the good way, he’ll have to come to his senses the hard way.” He said and another punch fell on Satoru's face.

Satoru remained still, realizing that any action on his part would only escalate the situation further. He endured the onslaught of blows, each one landing with painful precision. Blood trickled from his lip and nose as the beating came to an end. Despite his mother's call for a servant to tend to him, Satoru rose from the ground, determined to leave.

“Son, as soon as this term is over it’s over and there is no way back.”

Satoru bit his lip. It hurt.

He left the house but not before hearing his mother's lament.

“If only we could have had another child.”

Satoru took his phone out of his pocket and sent a message to his best friend.

Satoru to Suguru 🐉

Let’s hang out !!

I need a drink

Suguru 🐉

You never drink

Did something happen?

Satoru sighed and looked at himself in the car mirror. It would leave a mark, for sure.

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