#OFF TO EAT COLD PIZZA AND PASS OUT

[timeforaciggy]

Jerma x reader request

Reader and jerma go to the record store together and he is too embarrassed to buy his favorite gorillas record infront of reader

Feel free to change it up to make it more cutsy if needed

💿📀💿

A/N:

okay. so first jerma fic. not a great writer to begin with, but I had some (a lot) absolut vodka and just started hitting my keyboard with ideas and made this.

Anon, thank you for requesting this and also please let me know if you end up liking this or not. Your feedback is really helpful and appreciated. Never wrote about him before and want to make sure I’m doing this idea and him justice. (be as honest as you can, I promise my feelings won’t be hurt. As you can MAYBE TELL, I’m a new(er) viewer and don’t want to fuck it up, and if I did, I’d be happy to rewrite it)

Also I’m sorry it’s long, I hope that’s okay!

-tfac <333

!Songs to listen to while reading (and were played while writing)! :

The Blonde - TV Girl ((highly recommend, background vibe created by this song))

On Melancholy Hill - Gorillaz

It was your idea to go to a local record store after you were surprised by a beyond thoughtful Christmas gift from him earlier that holiday. He’d gotten you a new record player- not only new but a good one.

Your heart melted when you opened the wrapping paper to see that he’d gone so out of his way to get you something special and significant to you. You had an extensive collection of records from your favorite bands, even limited editions and pressings with incredible designs and colors. He thought it was so precious that you would show them to him. He’d sit there listening to you and looking at each one with a smile on his face. Whenever he’d stop in your office and both of you would fall into a rabbit hole of music, he’d always had remembered that when you would take them out, you wished you could play them, but you never did- you were too worried your old record player would scratch them and ruin them.

The mental note he took from that months ago leading up to the gift was so thoughtful. He hadn’t asked you about it or hinted at anything regarding it. He wanted it to be a good surprise. And it most definitely was. He spent a lengthy amount of time looking into ‘what the best record player was’, and especially the most reliable one, not wanting your records to get ruined. Just wanting you to finally be able to play them without worry; finally being able to just simply enjoy the music you loved so much.

After your excitement opening his gift and him setting it up with a good speaker, (and telling you “babe, let me do it I’m an expert, I promise.” sarcastically.) You’d started playing them all.

Over the days and months that would pass, he loved hearing your music echo throughout the house. No matter what he was doing, even while just on his computer and catching up on work, any small inconvenience would disappear as he listened to the sound of your favorite songs start playing. It made him smile ear to ear. Every single time.

And although he wasn’t much into music himself,

he was very much into yours.

After a while you’d asked while out on a random excursion in Vegas if you could stop by a record store and pick up some new stylus’ for the record player. He was more than happy to go with you and also explore the store with you as you both looked around. The amount of records was overwhelming to him as he browsed, so he went looking for what he really only knew well. Meanwhile, you went up to the store owner and asked for the specific part you were looking for.

After finding the replacement needed, you turn to see him flicking through the records absentmindedly. That was until he made it to the ‘G’ section and after moving a couple records you can see his hand stop. Pulling his other hand out of his pocket to reach out to pull the record out of the box.

You can see he’s holding a Gorrilaz album and you watch as he looks at it, flipping it over and reading the tracklist. His face in practical awe of his favorite albums of all time.

“Hey, whatchya find?” You ask him curiously

“Oh it’s- they have a Gorillaz album or two” he turns and replies but almost immediately stopping himself from trying to sound too excited.

“Did you, uh find the stylus?” He asks changing the subject.

“Yeah, I did I bought a couple replacements just in case.” You say smiling

“Awesome, where to next?” He asks smiling at you

“Well hold on. What about the Gorillaz album? Don’t you want it?” Asking him sincerely

“Oh uh- nah” he says casually. “Just checking out the artwork.” He adds while looking away.

His face is burning. And he’s praying you don’t notice.

But of course you do. You just don’t let him know it.

You don’t completely understand his reluctance to share something like an album with you. But knowing he isn’t that into music- you chalk it up to being maybe something he just didn’t want to open up to you about yet. It is sort of the ‘one thing’ he doesn’t have in common with you: that being an extensive love for music.

You choose not to push it… But keep a mental note of it. It’s honestly just so cute to you. The thought of him being too embarrassed to admit he wanted the album? You can’t. It didn’t need to make sense for it to absolutely melt your heart. Something you seem to find he makes new ways of doing every second you’re with him.

As the both of you leave to head out of the store, him being a gentleman, wordlessly shows an open palm to you, gesturing towards the bag you’re holding and motions a ‘gimme gimme’ to you with a sweet little smirk. You hand it over to him with a laugh, looking up at him with a big smile and a “thank you”.

As you continue walking, his other arm follows around the back of your waist and pulls you into him as he presses his lips onto your head.

“You’re welcome, love.”

———————————————————————————

Days went by as he’d stay clueless to during that day you’d have a surprise in store for him that upcoming Valentine’s Day. You had bought him the albums while checking out of the store, asking the store owner to charge you for them then and to put them aside for you to come and pick up the following day. The owner was more than happy to do just that.

That Valentine’s Day you’d surprised him with some red wine and both took a moment to laugh realizing he did the same thing. You both gave each other a glass of the wine from the bottle you’d bought for one another and gave a sounding clink and a ‘cheers’ to each other. You had made his favorite pasta for dinner that night for the two of you. You lit some candles on the coffee table, enjoyed your pasta together, and cuddled up with him watching a movie. Both of you loving a chill romantic evening together on the couch, just watching a movie and enjoying being in one another’s arms.

As the movie finished, you decide to play blackjack together. Watching his fingers shuffle the cards you couldn’t not stop smiling at him biting his lip like he always did while he’s focusing. Resting your face against your hand you told him that you’d ‘be right back’, and ‘that this deserved some good music.’ He smiled and chuckled at you as you got up to go upstairs to your record player. He agreed and went to fill up your wine glasses.

As he’s pouring the wine he asks you ‘what’s on the track list tonight, dj?’ You had to throw your hand over your mouth to stop from laughing, trying so hard to sound serious when you replied: “Well, I was gonna play some TV Girl, but shit! I think the record player’s broken- can you help me, babe?”

As he quickly thumped up the stairs he was mentally devastated by the idea that your new record player had broken- unbeknownst to him however, you quickly put the Plastic Beach record onto the turntable, turned the player on and waited till the perfect moment for him to come in the room.

You were holding the needle ready to place it onto the already spinning record as he turned the corner into your office with two wine glasses in his hands and a concerned yet sad look on his face.

Dropping the needle onto the right track (thank god, tipsy enough that you hoped it wouldn’t land on a different track, although funny, you wanted it to be a good surprise), the record player began playing ‘On Melancholy Hill’.

He stopped dead in his tracks and looked at you, then around the room. Looking at the candles you had lit, his brain finally realizing what you had been up to and what he was hearing.

He couldn’t help the smile and giggle he let out.

“Really?” He asked stuck in a hilarious disbelief you went through to this sweet extent to surprise him.

“Yeah, really” you chimed back to him while chuckling.

You walked up to him and gently took the glasses out of his hands while taking a sip out of one and then placing them on your desk.

Still stuck in surprise, his eyes following you and then down to your hand that was now reached out towards him. He chuckled at you as you motioned the same ‘gimme gimme’ to him with your hand.

He slowly walked over to you reaching for your hand and paused. Looking at you as sincerely as you’ve ever seen him do. He rubs his thumb slowly across your knuckles pressing his lips to them softly. Gently pulling the same hand to move you close to him while placing it onto his shoulder in a smooth motion. Winding another arm around your waist to hold you and begin to sway you slowly, not even to the beat of the song, but to the rhythm of his absolute joy in the moment. A beat you more than happily moved to along with him as your head rests against his chest.

The two of you slow dance in each other’s arms in the dimly lit room.

The only pause was Jeremy. Stopping to look you in the eyes, dead serious, to ask: “There’s nothing actually wrong with your record player though, right?”

You can’t stop laughing at his clueless but sweet question, struggling to answer “No, there was nothing wrong with it to begin with.”

But he gets the jist as he starts laughing himself.

He continues moving with you through the laughter to dip you to your surprise, taking the moment to laugh at your surprise. Then as he brings you back up, he places a soft hand under your chin tilting your head up and slowly leaning in to kiss you softly.

Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was being suddenly tipped over, but it was the sweetest, most butterfly-in-the stomach kiss you’d ever shared and it made your head swim in the best way possible.

As the night ended, you both went to bed late, you both had been too busy having fun listening to the albums you’d surprised him with, and the time spent together to care. Now in bed you both cuddled up together and before you fell asleep he pulled you closer to his chest, as he thanked you for the surprise all you could do was look up at him and tell him the same. Engulfed in his arms he rested his head on top of yours.

“I love you, y/n” he hummed into your hair

“I love you too, j” you replied wholeheartedly

Last thing you remember is him carefully adjusting himself to place a kiss on your forehead and then your lips before sighing contently and falling asleep together in his arms.

[whatifitis]

♡ Only Us - LN 4 ♡

Summary: Lando does a little fuck up and you're stubborn but you love him anyway. Feat. Max F being annoyed with a lack of dining utensils in an airbnb

Author's Note: this was based off this request! sorry for taking so long to write something. I hope this lives up to the request <3

WC: 1633

CW: Lando being a little shit, fluff, max f cussing

“I can’t believe this expensive air bnb doesn’t have utensils.” Max says, feeling a bit frustrated as you’d all gone shopping earlier for some groceries for your time in the air bnb. However, none of you thought to get some silverware as well, “it’s an air bnb, not a fucking hotel. There should be silverware in here. For fucks sake. We’re gonna have to eat with our hands like barbarians.”

“Max, relax. We can just get some pizza or something. No need for utensils.” Pietra says, walking up to him and hugging him from behind. You were starving so you hope a consensus can be made quickly. You hadn’t eaten all day due to having to rush from one place to another and somehow, every place that you had passed and that served food had a long wait. 

You and Lando watched the scene unfold from the couch as Max tried to argue that utensils will be needed at some point and you can’t just eat pizza the whole trip. After some debates, Max clapped his hands together, “All right. We’re getting chinese because we can ask for utensils and use them for most of the trip.” 

Everyone seemed pleased with Max’s idea and so you all gathered around to list everything that was needed before someone made the call and actually placed the order. 

In true Lando fashion, the man ordered nearly 40 spring rolls… that’s your man…

The whole group gathered in the living area and played some card games while everyone waited for the food to arrive. There was a lot of betting and wins and losses. Lando somehow was the only one to be down to his underwear after losing quite a few rounds of poker. Only Lando would find himself in that predicament. 

“If the food doesn’t arrive soon, I’m gonna call and ask where the fuck it is. It’s been ages. Where the fuck is it? The guy is probably having a fat shit and the foods getting fucking cold.”

“Max, it’s been 30 minutes and it was a pretty big order. It will be fine, just sit down and have some crisps.”

“No, P I’ve got the shakes look.” Max says whilst purposefully shaking his hands in an exaggerated manner, to which Pietra rolled her eyes. 

After some time, the doorbell rang and Max just about ran to the door, tripping over the leg of a chair in the process. Once Max is back with the bags of food, he places them on the table and begins to unpack them. As he unpacks everything, his eyebrows begin to furrow with each item he takes out, “No, no, no ,no! No fucking way.”

“Mate, what’s going on?” Lando walked behind Max. 

“There’s no utensils! They forgot the fucking utensils. Oh my fuck.” Max says in defeat, throwing his hands in the air and plopping onto the seat behind him. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. You feel bad for the man, but the scene was just too funny. 

“Yeah, keep laughing as you eat your fried rice with your bare hands. I hope your fucking rice is cold as well, fucks sake.” Max threatens. The man may be small, but when he’s upset, he doesn’t hold back with the threats. 

“Max, it’s okay. We can just make some makeshift utensils.” you offer. 

“Now how are we gonna do that, Y/n.”

“Simple. Someone can use this pen, we can roll this piece of paper into a cone and someone can shovel food into their mouth-”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous… Let’s do it before I rip someone's head off.”

So now the scene is painted, everyone is sitting around the coffee table and chowing on their food with the strangest objects. Pietra was using two makeup brushes as some makeshift chopsticks whilst Max opted to use the cone shaped paper, literally shoveling food into his mouth. Lando had decided to use a pen to try and shove food into his mouth and you ended up using a lens that popped out of your glasses when Lando sat on them earlier. 

When it happened, you wanted to be upset with Lando because they were your favorite glasses and they were the only ones you had brought on this trip. But Lando quickly apologized and immediately bought you a new pair. You also couldn’t be mad because once Lando saw how upset you were, he’d said “Just because my ass is fat, doesn't mean my feelings are tough.”

“I’m so hungry, I was about to go mental.” you said as you had taken your first few bites. 

“Same.” Max said, causing you all to side eye him, “what?”

“Babe, you were already going mental.” Pietra had told him. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was calm, cool, and collected.”

After everyone openly judged Max, you all carried on eating and talking. Lando decided it was a good idea to play around and when he did, he was bumping into you. You were still eating so you asked him to calm down so you could finish eating but he didn’t. He ended up knocking your lens out of your hand and it got thrown across the room, shattering onto the floor. 

You just simply sat and stared at the shattered lens. You guys were limited on things you could use to eat so now all you could do was eat with your hands. But now you were too pissed off to eat. You’d lost your appetite. You simply stood up, threw your plate out and went to bed. 

Lando followed after you and you quickly glanced at him before turning your back to him. He looked truly regretful of his actions, “Baby, I’m sorry. I should’ve listened to you. You hadn’t eaten all day and I fully messed up. You can use the pen I was using. You didn’t eat much.” 

“Not now, Lan. I’m tired and I don’t wanna yell at you.”

He understood his faults and didn’t want to make everything worse. He knew you needed the space so that night, he didn’t come to bed. He decided it was probably best to spend the night on the couch and let you have the bed to yourself. 

You tossed and turned all night, missing Lando’s warm body being next to yours. He did make you upset today but it didn’t mean you wanted him to sleep on the couch. But you were too stubborn so he spent the whole night on the couch. 

In the morning, everyone was set to wake up and get ready to ski and snowboard. You decided to sleep a little longer due to the fact that you slept so little during the night. But your sleep was cut even shorter when you were startled awake from the slamming of a door. Lando had accidentally hit the bedroom door so hard, it slammed into the wall. 

As soon as Lando had realized his mistake, he, once again, looked at you apologetically and mouthed the words ‘i’m so sorry’ but you were already pissed off yet again. You decided to just get up and get ready for the day, not paying much mind to Lando as you didn’t want to explode at him. 

The whole day, you spent time with the girls and just tried to enjoy your day. When it was starting to get dark, the whole group agreed to meet at the bottom of the hill near the cafes. You made your way down on your snowboard and when you spotted Lando standing alone at the bottom, you decided to have a little payback. 

Once you were close enough, you turned your snowboard to stop and spray Lando with snow. 

“I deserved that.” Lando had said as he tried to brush off some snow.

“You did.” was all you said before you made your way to the rest of the group. 

Once everyone was back in the cabin, you all started shedding your layers and began to unwind. You were walking around the house, just tidying a bit out of boredom when you stumbled upon some mistletoe that was hanging in one of the doorways. “You know we need to kiss now because that's the rule.” you heard Lando say from behind you. He had his classic smirk plastered on his face. 

You decided to give him a quick peck, resulting in him being smiley and thinking everything was okay now. 

“Nope. Still mad.” you said as you turned to walk away. But before you could walk away, Lando had wrapped himself around you. 

“No! I’m not letting you go til you love me again.”

“Lan, let me go.”

“No”

“Lan”

“Nope”

This continued as you tried to wrestle him off but he kept his hold on you and he ended up climbing onto your back but you weren’t prepared so the two of you fell into a mess of intertwined limbs and laughter. 

After the two of you caught your breath, Lando asked “Are we okay?” with a serious look on his face. You knew he could be insecure at times in the relationship, even after little arguments and disagreements. 

“Yes, baby. We’re okay. I was just tired, I’m sorry for making you think otherwise.” 

“‘S okay. I know I kinda fucked up.”

“Yeah. But no matter the fight, I will still love you and want you. What we’ve got going is good.” you move your hand to gently tap his temple, “We can try to quiet the noises in your head.”

He lets out a soft laugh, “I never thought there’d be someone like you who could want me. But here you are. It’s you and me and that’s all that I need it to be.”

“Only us.”

“Only us.”

[bigwishes]

Hope you're doing well. Just wanted to ask the genie for one wish... to swap bodies with my dumb sweaty bear of a roommate. We couldn't be more different, I'm a clean twink-ish comp sci major and I don't even know what he's majoring in cause all he does is eat, game, and work out. I complain about his lifestyle but secretly... I'm jealous. Jealous of how little he cares about grades or hygiene. Only caring about muscles and sports. I just want to know what it'd be like to be in his shoes for once even for a day. Then he'd be the one complaining to me about how much the house stinks and I'd be the one without a care in the world.

Took me a while to even see this one, but sure your wish is my command a big muscled sweaty bear who stinks? easy enough. first you start with your muscle mass, slowly pumping up, splitting through your shirt, growing more and more by the second, you can't help but flex and worship yourself as your muscles expand to freakish proportions.

its almost impossible for you to keep your hands off yourself as you moan in pleasure wanting more, to grow bigger, to get bigger,

soon a thick beard starts to grow from your jawline making you look like a beefed up lumberjack who works out non stop. A potent BO fills the room as your pits grow damp and start to stink, sweat drips down from them trailing your lats making you look like you just finished a workout.

You feel heavy trying to haul around your big muscular body, which doesnt help with the sweat, each step is an effort in itself causing you to sweat. You feel the fabric of your underwear strain and get wet around your groin and in between your ass as your body over produces sweat.

You begin to huff, each movement you perform leaving you out of breath. As you sit down the the couch to take a break you feel the cold wetness as the fabric absorbs your sweat.

A moment of peace passes as you try and catch your breath then your stomach growls. You do remember you wished to be a bear? six pack abs aren't very fitting.

You gut grows tight and you moan in pain as it growls, before long it starts to puff forward, looking bloated before shortly being covered in a layer of fat and hair.

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPP

you belch without warning, the powerful smell of protein feels the room and you look down to see the new you.

Big and Bulky are the words that best describe you now. A giant bodybuilder covered in a winter layer of fat, a true muscle bear.

Suddenly your door swings open as your roommate walks in. You expected to see the beast you'd gotten used to living with but instead a clean cut jock walked through the door carrying a pizza, protein shake and a box of chocolate muffins. You threw them down on the coffee table in front of you.

"got you what you asked for dude" instantly without saying thanks, your dove for the food alternating between shoving multiple slices of pizza in your mouth and chugging the protein shake, the shake dripped down the side of your lips and ran onto your chest.

"god how do you live like this you freak"

Hearing his words made your ears perk up, but not enough for you to stop eating.

"you are such a fucking slob dude"

You dick suddenly became hard hearing him insult you.

"and your fucking reek, jesus christ, you eat like a monster, stink like 40 gyms combined and have such a grotesque amount of muscle on your body"

Instantly you blew your load into your underwear hearing him talking about how much of a fucking slob you are.

You'd never felt so turned on, being so big, being so hungry, being humiliated by such a hot guy.

you had forgotten you even made a wish to begin with, and were ready to spend your life as a beasty bear.

BUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPP

[kafka-ish]

Being Art and Patrick’s roommate… OMG

I feel like you all have known each other since high school or maybe you and Art roomed together in college and Patrick was always hanging around your guys’ dorm so after you graduate you decide why not? It’s comfortable. You all know each other. But you don’t realize how fucking awkward it is until Patrick’s roaming around shirtless in his boxers. Eating cold pizza for breakfast straight out of the fridge with a left over beer to go with it.

You get up one morning and see him lounging around the living room like he owns the place and you’re just like seriously? And he’s just like yeah, deal with it.

“Yeah but, Ren and Stimpy?” He wishes you were ogling him instead even though he has a girlfriend who hates the fact that you live with him. But it’s fine because so does Art. It’s not like anything will happen…

And, yeah, part of you also wants to eyeball his abs and draw your tongue over his v-line. And the bulge that’s poking out of his—

It's only natural. But he’s basically your brother so you tell him to put on a shirt.

“Sorry, babe. Laundry day.” Sometimes he’ll say, “you wish you were lucky enough to get a paid subscription to this.” And you try to pass it off. Hope he doesn’t see you blush. Brush his skin when you try to take the remote from him.

“You should be more like Art.” He hates when you say this. He doesn’t know what the hell it means; if you mean it or not. Patrick’s always been good with girls but he can never pick up on your sarcasm or when you’re being deadpan because the only interactions you have are petty fights over the food you had saved, the dishes, how messy he is. Basically your whole living arrangement. And you never chastise Art. Sometimes make a point to tell him how much you love how he alphabetized the spices while Patrick was on his ass, watching re-runs of some shitty reality show he was never really interested in. You thank Art for the fact that you never have to pick up after him. Say things like at least someone got dressed today.

Patrick just rolls his eyes. Says he’s going to the gym later and he’ll be out of your hair, or okay mother, or who put you in charge?

And as much as Patrick tries not to let it get to him, it does. He confides in Art about it. “Dude… I think she’s pissed.”

“Yeah, well… You can be messy sometimes, Patrick.”

“I think she hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you. She lives with you.”

And even though Art’s sworn to secrecy, he tells you anyway. He can’t keep his mouth shut and he wants to make things right. You guys are roommates.

You’re in your room. Art’s inside of you and this is the only thing this boy hasn’t blabbed about to anyone. It’s just casual sex. It started in college but it just kept… happening.

“Patrick thinks you hate him.”

“What? I never said that.” Art shrugs, still shoving his cock into your cunt.

“That’s what he told me.” He groans. Grips the flesh of your hips. Thrusts become deeper and his forehead bumps into yours. “Fuck. You’re, like, tighter each time we do this.”

“I think that’s just a myth.”

He reaches the hilt of your pussy. Moans loudly when he finishes. Stays inside for a minute.

He pulls out finally and his blonde curls flop onto the pillow next to yours. Messy, sweaty, spreading in every direction. His breath is heavy. “Anyway, I think you should talk to him.”

“What would I say?”

“Actually, maybe don’t say anything.”

You make a confused face at the ceiling, contemplating. Art sees this, still. He kisses your cheek.

“Want me to go down on you?”

[iamasaddie]

double lovin'

Lucien Flores x f!Reader x Dieter Bravo

summary: You doomed yourself to spend Valentine's day alone, buried in blankets and sobbing over Bridgit Jones' love story, but a surprise visit from Lucien and his friend turns your plans to waste. warnings: EXPLICIT CONTENT MINORS DNI [MFM with a lick of Dieter x Lucien action; oral f!recieving; DVP; cum eating; overstimulation] ; age gap implied but nothing specific is mentioned (don't forget Lucien is reader's mom's friend) wc: ~5k+ a/n: HAPPY EARLY VALENTINE'S THOSE WHO ARE ALONE AND NOT! once again I am forever thankful to @toxicanonymity for bringing the idea to me that spawned into this sex series and also for just being cool and supportive 🪺 a/n 2: you can find following parts on ao3 early! make sure to follow me there and leave a few nice words previous part | next part

A mí me gusta que me traten como dama Aunque de eso se me olvide cuando estamos en la cama

When the doorbell rang, you expected anything: your mom feeling guilty and canceling her Galentine’s to spend time with her single and very miserable daughter. A lost delivery guy leaving someone else's pizza at your doorstep. Even Arnold Schwarzenegger showing up with a giant check to tell you you won a lottery you'd never played.

What you didn’t expect was the smiling face of Lucien De Leon, who pushed a very famous friend inside your house the moment you opened the door.

"Spending Valentine's alone, murciélago?" He winked, inviting himself in.

"What are you doing here?"

You stepped aside on instinct, the door still wide open, letting the cold February air in. Lucien looked at you with a cheeky smile—the one that revealed the dimple on his cheek—and even your gruff tone didn’t throw him off.

"You didn't tell me she was rude." The man next to Lucien took off his sunglasses. Dieter Bravo. Dieter fucking Bravo stood in your hall and thought you were rude. Perfect. You slammed the door shut.

"She's a menace, but I promise she'll claw her way into your heart soon enough." Lucien never looked away from you, his eyes following your every twitch, getting under your skin too quickly. "Murciélago, this is Dieter. But I think you already know that, don't you?" He winked at you, and you wanted to slap him but couldn’t move.

Darting your eyes from Lucien to Dieter and back again, you forgot how to breathe for a moment—it was all too much. Lucien's raised eyebrows brought you back to your senses, and you finally looked at his friend.

“I… It is very nice to meet you, Mr. Bravo. I am a big fan of your work.” You tried to save your reputation as much as you could, resorting to flattery and praying your embarrassment didn’t seep through your skin.

"Oh no," the man shook his head and hooked the temple of his glasses inside his T-shirt collar. "Please, don't call me Mr. Bravo. I feel like I’m back at my prostate exam, and that’s the last place I wanna return to. The guy’s finger was like a fucking icicle!"

You didn’t know if you were allowed to laugh at such an intimate statement, so the silence hung awkwardly between you until Lucien snorted, and you pushed out a laugh.

"Well, are you going to keep us in the hall, or will you let us crash your lonely Valentine's Day?"

You rolled your eyes but stepped aside, waiting for the men to follow you further inside the house, mumbling on the way,

"It wasn’t lonely. I was just alone. There’s a difference."

"Philosophical," Dieter nodded as he caught up with you. You weren’t sure if he was laughing at you, but you tried not to delve too deeply into it, knowing what overthinking did to your self-esteem.

Passing you on the way to the living room, Dieter whistled and turned to Lucien, who was the last of the three of you to enter.

"I knew we should've come earlier! The party has already started."

You knew exactly what he saw in the living room: a couch with a dozen pillows and a soft blanket you had been wrapped in all day; a tray with a half-empty glass of wine that could’ve been more expensive—if only you could tell the difference; a glass with lip gloss stains, surrounded by a cheese plate and a couple of half-eaten, unwrapped chocolate bars.

The pitiful scene was completed with an awkward still of Bridget Jones in the middle of singing 'All by Myself' and a box of Kleenex in case the feelings hit you too hard.

"I knew you partied hard, but I didn't know it was that hard." Lucien laughed and gently nudged your shoulder. You tried to ignore the physical response your body had to his touch while Dieter was already making himself comfortable among the pillows.

"I wasn't expecting guests," you said, hot shame biting at your cheeks.

Lucien tapped the tip of your nose with his finger. "That's the point of a surprise, darling."

After scanning the room, his eyes stopped at your lonely-looking glass. Instead of commenting on it or making fun of your misery, he took a step closer. You didn’t even notice that you had stopped breathing.

Somehow, even with Dieter Bravo on your couch, Lucien felt more important. He ignited something in you, your heart stuttering like a faulty engine, acting up from the uncertainty between you.

"How about we celebrate this wonderful triumph of capitalism over love together?" He took a long moment to look into your eyes. "You don't mind, do you, baby?"

You trembled at the carelessly dropped word, as if it lured you back to that trailer, intoxicated by the poison of his voice, his scent. You had no choice but to nod.

"Well, that's great. Will you bring Dee and me some glasses? And grab that whiskey your mother is hiding. Wine gives me terrible heartburn."

"Whatever you say, old man." You put on your usual mask of disregard.

Most likely, it was just a friendly visit, and he had brought Dieter along as an apology for what happened. But why did he feel the need to apologize? It wasn’t like you didn’t get just as much pleasure out of it as he did. Maybe even more.

Your eyes blurred with memories, and you hurried to hide in the kitchen.

"Old man?" You heard Dieter's voice, followed by the distinct sound of a body flopping onto the couch. Lucien had joined his friend in the comfort of your little love nest.

"That’s how she flirts."

Suddenly, you felt the need to drink something stronger yourself.

When you stepped out of the kitchen, anxiety draped over you like a weighted blanket, pressing down on your knees and making them tremble with every dragged-out movement. A sharp hiss escaped your lips as your knee collided with the corner of the book cabinet. It groaned on its hinges, sending a tremor through the shelves, rattling the small souvenirs your mom had collected on her travels. You squeezed the neck of the bottle and a couple of glasses tighter, carefully returning to the living room.

Lucien and Dieter were exactly where you had left them, side by side, deep in conversation. Whatever they were discussing must’ve been undoubtedly amusing, if you could judge by the joyous smiles spread on their faces. They kept their voices low, murmuring, and your clumsy reentry easily shattered the calm. Their heads snapped toward you in almost perfect unison, and for a split second, you froze under their gaze.

Once again, the thought of how similar they looked struck you, even harder now that you were looking at them side by side. They were too similar. They could easily have passed for brothers—twins, even—hadn’t it been for the age difference revealed by Lucien's gray hair. His features were more weathered, tempered by experience and just a hint of life’s downs. His eyes carried shadows that seemed too deep. Dieter, on the other hand, was softer, his gaze lit with boyish mischief. However, even their smile lines were the same, although Dieter's were not as deep. Yet the main similarity between them was that they were impossibly hot.

And they were trouble with their unruly clouds of curly hair, Lucien’s more thoughtfully maintained while Dieter’s verged on recklessness. Their noses, prominent with a gentle hook, and their lips—full, expressive, almost obscene—seemed designed to tempt. A treacherous thought slithered through your mind, wondering if the similarities extended further, deeper. Your mind immediately flooded with the memories of Lucien’s cock, so painfully girthy inside you that you felt it for the next few days. The thought sent a shiver through you, heat pooling low in your stomach. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to ground yourself, trying to shake loose the haze of lust threatening to consume you.

You put the glasses and the bottle on the table, and Lucien reached for the amber liquid. He poured whiskey into two glasses and handed one to his friend. You were about to fall into the chair next to him when Lucien turned his gaze on you.

“Join us, murciélago?” Lucien’s voice was like velvet—soft but commanding. The slight upward lilt made it sound like a question, but his beckoning finger indicated that it wasn’t.

Your legs moved before your mind could object, carrying you toward him as though drawn by an invisible thread. He had a special power over you now—some kind of cock magic, you chuckled to yourself—and to your own dismay, you didn’t actually mind it. You stood between him and Dieter awkwardly, unsure if he wanted you to join them on the couch, or in drinking whiskey. Two predatory sets of eyes were looking at you, their hunger so palpable it made your skin prickle.

Lucien’s tone remained deceptively calm. “I told Dieter you’d show us around the house.”

Your knees almost buckled when his fingertips brushed your leg—a featherlight caress against the sensitive skin of your inner knee. A swarm of goosebumps ran up your bare thigh and disappeared behind the edge of your shorts. The room seemed to shrink, the air thickening with something electric. You gulped in lungfuls of it, your gaze darting between Lucien and Dieter, making sure it wasn’t a cruel joke. Seeing the hesitation on your face, Lucien put you out of your misery with a wide smile. “We can start with your room.”

By the time the three of you had climbed the few steps leading to your room on the second floor, you had no doubts about what was coming. Who was coming.

You definitely doubted your sanity, but not your plans. It was hard to doubt them when Lucien's palm possessively grabbed your ass, greedily squeezing your soft flesh. When you abruptly turned your head in his direction—all the questions, exclamations, and curses died on your tongue at the same time—he had the courage to playfully wink at you, but just in case, he pulled his hand away. And to your surprise, you felt relieved.

It was like a code word, a sign. ‘I'm playing if you're playing.’ You were his toy, yet in charge of everything. Behind Lucien, you saw Dieter freeze, waiting for your next move. You curled your lips, giving him your most practiced flirtatious smile, and stuck your ass back out, pushing back into Lucien's palm, for which you received a juicy slap on both buttocks at once. Bursting into laughter, you pushed open the door to your room, once again allowing Lucien to give you something you had forgotten to dream about.

When the door slammed shut behind you, everything merged into one blurred dance. An amateur salsa, still passionate, despite the fact that the partners occasionally stepped on each other's feet. Lucien launched at you from behind, attacking your neck with biting kisses and slowly leading you to the bed. Dieter joined in so quickly and doubtlessly that you thought he and Lucien had discussed every step in advance and only you were left in the dark. He followed Lucien’s lead, covering your neck with kisses, pulling your neckline lower to bite your exposed collarbones.

"Take that thing off," he growled, clawing at your henley. You didn’t want their kisses to end, however, you also wanted to give them more territory to satisfy you. You tore off an unnecessary piece of clothing as quickly as you could. And then heard the disappointed groans of the men who saw another still T-shirt separating them from your breasts. After exchanging conspiratorial glances, they began to pull off your clothes until you were left naked between two still-clothed men.

"If I am naked it's only fair you are too," for some reason, you hadn’t been brave enough to start undressing Dieter yet. After all, the man hadn’t been at your house for more than an hour. So instead, you turned to Lucien and found that he was already halfway naked. His shirt was unbuttoned, and his boxers were clumsily wrapped around his ankles. Your eyes followed from his red, wet lips to his tense neck. His chest, dusted with sparse hair, heaved with deep breaths, and you looked down to where a path of gray and dark brown hair led to his aroused cock.

The crimson head was shining with a drop of precum that you desperately wanted to lick off. His dick was so heavy that it could barely stand up, painfully tense with his want. A little lower, two huge balls proudly hung between his spread legs, and your rational side understood that they wouldn’t fit in your mouth, but you licked your lips anyway. Mesmerized, you watched Lucien's cock sway as he untangled his legs from his jeans.

"Come," he took you by the hand, dragging you with him onto your bed and settling you on his body the way he wanted.

You felt Lucien's naked chest with the bare skin of your back, pressed tightly to you, almost merging into a single matter. He seemed too big for your bed, his massive frame so out of place on your floral sheets, but with his skilled fingers slowly teasing your nipples, you couldn’t care less. You were laying on top of him, naked, just as both men had wanted you. Lucien's legs spread yours, tickling your soft skin with the fine dark hairs as he intertwined your limbs with his and opened your most intimate parts for Dieter's hungry eyes. You could feel the older man's bare cock twitching close to your ass. His yet another silk shirt—the only piece of clothing he was still wearing—was spread out on either side of you like mottled butterfly wings.

"Fuck, you look cinematic," Dieter cursed. He threw his t-shirt on the chair, exposing his golden skin, broad shoulders, and a slightly hairy, soft tummy. You wanted to rake your nails over his skin, see if you'd leave red marks behind you, but were too busy marking Lucien's thighs with bloody crescents in response to his thorough teasing.

As if he had already done this a hundred times, Dieter settled between your and Lucien's spread legs. You couldn’t figure out how he managed to fit onto your already almost fully occupied bed, but your thoughts evaporated as soon as Dieter's lips made a gentle, wet trail of kisses from the middle of your thigh to the crease right in front of your dripping pussy. His nose greedily inhaled Lucien's musk and your gentle aroma.

"God, I should really hang out with more fans," Dieter giggled, and before Lucien could give any response, the man's hot tongue already started abusing your pussy with broad licks. Your moan was so loud you were sure your neighbors could hear you. Lucien didn’t stop caressing your tender tits, alternating between gentle flicks and hard pinches to your stiff nipples. But even that became a background action in your head with the way Dieter devoured your pussy.

The younger man was generous with affection, his hot tongue lapped at your pulsing clit, but the moment you threatened to climb to the very peak, he descended below, where you overflowed with a river of need.

"You're dripping right on my cock, baby, I can feel it," Lucien's voice was so far away despite his lips being almost pressed to your ear.

You had no idea what kind of relationship the men were in and how Lucien knew such intimate details of his colleague's personal life. Perhaps you could have thought for a moment, maybe even fantasized, but Dieter's fingers gently parted the sensitive lips of your pussy, distracting you. You could feel his hot gaze on your throbbing hole.

"Oh, she looks so lonely," the man cooed, "let me fix that."

If you could, you would see Dieter's hand wrap around Lucien's cock in a soft embrace, jerking him slowly before pressing the weeping head to your entrance. Your breath hitched as the fat head prodded you, forced inside by the younger actor. 

"There we go," his voice was charged with electricity, sparks of excitement flew off him as if he had been waiting for this moment for as long as he waited for a damn Oscar. Dieter's words were lost in the choir of moans, high and low; Lucien's thick, hot breath burned your skin, his hands froze on your chest. "Beautiful."

Without waiting for a command, Lucien's hips began to move, his rigid cock loudly proclaiming his presence with your satisfied screams. You had to get used to his thickness all over again, to his dominance. Squeezing you now in his arms, the man did not give you a single chance to avoid the excruciatingly pleasant invasion over and over again.

"Even better than I remember," his melody was hoarse and breathy in your ear, honest and raw. "And trust me I remember every second of it."

His words answered a buzzing cloud of questions that had been torturing you since the moment you had left him on that set. You responded back something incoherent, words refused to form in your mouth, let alone go in correct order.

"It's okay, murciélago, don't talk, I see it's hard for you," Lucien's tone was almost mocking, but still gentle. 

Watching your pussy being stretched and fed cock so relentlessly, Dieter couldn't stop his hand from running towards his own throbbing member, giving it a light squeeze just to relieve some tension. The motion went unnoticed, you were too busy remembering how to breathe while Lucien struggled to keep himself together. A thick vein appeared on his damp forehead, his neck strained and his jaw shut tight. Dieter couldn't hear a word he was telling you, but from the way your eyes rolled back he knew he'd cum on the spot if he was on the receiving end. The man rubbed his lower lip, his fingers smelling of your combined scents.

With a plan in mind, he settled back in the position so familiar. Being so up close with your pussy as it got stuffed with the biggest cock he had personally seen sent a thrill of excitement down his ass.

His lips hungrily latched onto your cunt and your back arched in surprise, the overwhelming sensations almost breaking you in half. Dieter moaned in your pussy, his tongue sliding from where Lucien's cock was piercing through you to your poor clit that was almost in pain from all of the attention. Your pussy cried rivers of wetness, so when Dieter slipped a finger alongside Lucien's cock you didn't notice.

You would have noticed had Lucien not showered you in compliments about the way your pussy felt. How he liked your tits, perfectly soft in his hands. How your smell drove him insane so bad he wanted to tie you up and lick every inch of you until your smell and taste was fully his.

Yet, the moment Dieter pushed another digit in it was hard to ignore. Lucien, who's skin was now slippery slick with sweat, bit into your ear painfully. He was already on the edge when the younger man's knuckles dragged up his shaft, crammed by your tight insides.

"Fuck," they both stilled inside you. The stretch started burning again but you didn't find it unpleasant, just unusual with the shape they formed inside you. Dieter tried to scissor your fingers and Lucien hissed at him, "wait. Give me a second or I–"

He didn't need to finish, so Dieter tried to keep his fingers stable as his lips and tongue continued attacking your pussy, now focusing solely on your clit. 

"Mmm–good?" He mumbled in your wet skin, and Lucien thrust once, twice, to show he was ready. 

Instead of giving both of you time to get used to this new feeling, Dieter squeezed his fingers, pushing a third one inside you without warning. Now he was almost shielding a side of Lucien's cock inside you, making it almost twice the girth it was before.

"It's too much," you whined, a tear mixed with a drop of your sweat left your right eye. 

The only response for it was Dieter's tongue moving faster on your clit, so fast you'd think he was vibrating. His desire to continue fucking you, do the things he and Lucien discussed was now overthrown with his need to make you feel good. Dieter longed to hear your small whines, the high pitched noises you did when he–

Your body shook violently, a wet stream of your orgasm leaking over his fingers and trying to push both Lucien and Dieter out as you thrashed, a silent scream opening your lips. Dieter licked you through your orgasm, until you felt so sensitive that every flick of his tongue felt like flaying. 

You felt too hot all over, your body weak, pliant. Lucien's hands rubbed over your shoulders, his kisses were soothing your rapid heartbeat while his still hard cock twitched inside you. Too sensitive, you felt every ridge and vein of him. You almost wanted to crawl up, make his cock slip out of you, yet, he was holding you tight, his body a welcomed prison.

You blinked your eyes, the weight of your eyelids almost too heavy for you to deal with. A blurred figure of Dieter on his feet had you make an effort to look.

Slowly, the young actor pulled the zipper of his pants down, the sound of it opening was barely louder than your ragged breathing. Without any prelude, his pants fell to his knees, revealing to you the fact that the Dieter was not wearing underwear. Glancing at his cock swinging heavily between his massive thighs, you took a mental note that he definitely won the genetic lottery and held your breath. Cut and slightly shorter than Lucien's, his dick was as thick, if not even thicker. A fat head already glistening with long minutes of his staved off orgasm hypnotized you. Your tongue ran over your dry lips, subconsciously you were asking for a taste. It all fell into place in your head Dieter's fingers making more space inside you, next to Lucien's cock. Stretching you out not only for the sake of your orgasm, but… Your body shivered with something more than just the remnants of your orgasm. The very idea of having both of these meaty cocks inside you at the same time made you tremble, fear and excitement gripped your jaws with an unpleasant clang. Even the release that completely relaxed your body couldn't calm your nerves.

"No, I," you pathetically shook your head, feeling two pairs of eyes on you every second, "I can't. It won't- It can't…"

"Shhhh," Lucien's gentle voice poured into your ears like water, deafening you, disorienting you in space. "You've dreamt about making Dieter feel good, haven't you? Isn't that why you came to my trailer that night?"

Like a predator unwilling to scare off its prey, Dieter slowly climbed onto the bed. The mattress creaked dully under the weight of three bodies, but it did not stop his approximation. Settling between your legs, his fingers slowly traced a line along your thigh, to the soft curve of your stomach. His brown eyes were as assertive as he was, his eternal playfulness replaced by the desire to possess. You didn't dare blink while he was looking at you, didn't take your eyes off him, memorizing how his lips curved in a smile. Not a bit of crudeness or contempt, just a very insistent request. The one that always gets a 'yes'.

"And she will make me feel good," he didn't look anywhere but your face. "Won't you, baby?" His hands returned to your thighs, dragging his palms up and down in a motion that was meant to be soothing but instead it ignited the flame inside you once again. "Got the juiciest pussy, just perfect to milk my cock."

Dieter's hands stopped when they reached your hip bones. His massive palms were hot, branding. With his thumbs, he drew circles on your delicate skin without letting you out of his grip. "If you do really well," his eyes dropped to your bare mound, "I'll even sign her for you."

You wished you’d come with a witty remark, a joke to quiet his cockiness, but instead you only let out a pathetic whine, making the man in front of you smile even harder.

The thought of the men claiming you this way made you feel dizzy. If the simple thought didn’t fit in your head, how could their dicks fit your pussy? Scared, but desperate to find out you nod with a heavy head. The need to make both of these beautiful, strong men addicted to you, make them feel so good they wouldn’t be able to think about anyone else but you the way you did about them blinded every instinct in your body except for the most primal one. You spread your legs further beckoning Dieter to sink his cock inside.

"Good girl," Lucien whispers into your skin. A new gush of wetness leaves your stretched hole in response to his quiet praise. "I never doubted that."

The moment Dieter slowly pushes his dick alongside Lucien’s stretches for an eternity. You wish he’d just pushed in a quick stroke giving you all the pain at once, but he made sure to go gently, praise unnaturally falling from his lips that were used to saying something else entirely. You want to bite into something, and avoid your lips afraid that you could actually chew them off.

Instead you let the frustration and tensity of being torn apart leave your body in shameless cries and moans that the men accompany with untamed grunts of their own.

Your breathing was difficult, almost unnatural. It seemed that if something else entered your body, you would simply be torn apart, but your primitive desire to possess these two men was too important at this moment, so you easily gave up air. It felt that their cocks, that were rhythmically stretching you in different directions, were much more crucial for your life support than oxygen.

A hand–you could no longer make out who was who in the kaleidoscope of limbs–roughly grabbed you by the throat, a low voice ordered you to breathe, and you finally took some air into your lungs.

"Yeah, good girl."

Dieter's rhythm didn’t falter, even when it's too hard for Lucien to continue. The younger actor didn't mind taking on most of the work, actively moving his hips, creating more space for himself not only between your spread legs but also in your pussy. The ridge of his cockhead scratched Lucien's shaft so good that he couldn't stop moaning in your ear, the lust filled melody inviting you to cum over them again. 

Lucien's hips falter beneath you, their strength shaken by a powerful tremor that vibrates through your body. Unceremoniously, your orgasm takes him with you and you both cum.

Dieter refused to stop, his tense grimace hung above your faces. His cock kept fucking you, rougher now than before. Lucien whined from contact with his dick, too sensitive to keep enjoying the moment. He tried to move, tried to free your dripping pussy for another man, but Dieter stopped him with a look.

"Don't fucking move."

In.

Out.

Repeat.

Again.

The sounds were wet and embarrassing, but it was past the moment any of you cared. Dieter's movements just make a giant mess with Lucien's cum spilling out of you. You can't help but feel a smaller wave coming onto you again, your body too wasted to give something bigger.

"Let go, pretty girl," Dieter asks.

"Cum." Lucien orders.

And you don't know which one of them your body listened to, but you feel electric shocks coursing through your tender pussy with another orgasm consuming you, now taking Dieter with you. With your cunt pulsing and squeezing both spent cocks in a vicious grip, Lucien hisses with overstimulation but still doesn't pull out, letting both yourself and Dieter ride out the orgasms. By the time you all caught your breaths, both dicks easily slipped out of you, making even a bigger mess between your thighs.

You felt boneless, spent. Your head was a dead weight on Lucien's shoulder and he kissed your sweaty forehead. With a soft groan and a bed creak Dieter slid lower, for the nth time this day reclaiming the position with his face between your legs.

There was nothing that could elicit a reaction out of you, the world around didn't exist anymore, you doubted even you did. So when a now familiar tongue started lapping at your tender and swollen entrance, nothing more than a barely audible meowl left your lips. 

Hours have passed, maybe days, years, until Dieter's satisfied face reappeared. You didn't know that small whines kept shuttering the peace of your room until you felt how dry your throat was. Lucien's lips didn't leave your temple even when Dieter started crawling over you. Some pearly cum–his or Lucien's– coated his mustache, and he smiled from ear to ear as he kissed the sweaty valley between your tits, your neck and then sealed your mouth with his, letting you taste the night you'd spent together with a swipe of his tongue over his.

You woke up from the heat of another body suffocating you. The sun was already up, white winter entourage making it look cold and distant. Lucien's naked body was pressed into you, somehow still occupying most of your bed and you turned your head expecting to see another man on the other side of you. 

A pang of something bitter bit your tongue when the spot was empty. You reached your hand to the bedside table to grab your phone, instead being met with a neatly folded note.

'have an early call, had to run. hit me up if you wanna repeat. 323 583-9657 D.'

The note was finished with an exaggerated version of his autograph, and you huffed, rolling your eyes, but pushed the note under your pillow.

tag list for people who might be interested: @milla-frenchy @aurorawritestoescape @kirsteng42 @thundermartini @pearlispunk @pedge-page @blueeeflame @letsgobarbs @slimybeth69 @vulnerableparts @bonezone44 @megangovier @amyispxnk @beefrobeefcal @pedgito @morallyinept @shaunasflannel @604to647 @myownwholewildworld

[darknight3904]

All Too Well

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: The first month in Jackson passes by slowly. Joel wishes you'd confront him about the past but fear has your lips sealed tight.

Warnings: 18+ Language, SA (Not by Joel), Starvation, Animal Death, Eating Disorders, Plastic boobs, and Lingerie (do we need a warning for those things?) Joel and Reader are pros at avoiding the elephant in the room!

Word Count: 4.1k

Previous Part / Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

I didn't have much time to edit this one so sorry if there are typos :)

December 31, 2023

Joel carefully set the table according to Maria's directions. His new sister-in-law had decided that a New Year's Eve dinner would be appropriate for this year. Of course, drinks with the rest of the community at the Tipsy Bison would follow.

He eavesdropped on Ellie and Tommy's conversation from the other room.

"And then, you just keep mixing like this." Tommy explained, "And then...slowly fold in the sugar."

"You're pretty good at this." She compliments

"Had a real good teacher."

When he and Ellie stepped into the warm home, Joel could hardly believe what he was seeing. His younger brother was wearing a purple and green apron, baking a fleet of cupcakes to share with the rest of Jackson. Twenty years ago, Tommy would've eaten half-frozen pizza bites and dubbed it "a healthy dinner."

Joel had no idea how Maria had turned his brother into the Pillsbury Dough Boy, but he had to admit it was one of the funnier things he'd seen in a while.

Speaking of Maria, Joel swore he'd eventually win her over. He was pretty sure she was slowly warming up to him. After all he'd only been in Jackson a month or so and here he was invited to a family dinner.

"Dude, your brother is like...the best baker in the world," Ellie says as she shuffles into the dining room.

"Really? Last time I saw him he was still burning Chef Boyardee." Joel teases

"That was years ago, asshole!" Tommy's voice calls to defend himself, "I'm a great cook now. Besides I don't recall you being some Master Chef, Joel."

"Two days you burned that bacon I brought home from that Jesse kid," Maria said flatly as she checked on the ham in the oven.

"You're not helping."

"I wasn't trying to."

The sudden gust of cold air has Joel turning his attention the the front door that has slammed against the wall behind it.

"Shit, it's so windy out there!"

He'd know that voice anywhere, how could he forget it? Ever since his arrival in Jackson, he practically heard it every time he closed his damn eyes. 

Joel watched as you hung your coat up and pulled your boots off before greeting Maria who was already standing there with open arms. He awkwardly stood as you greeted Tommy with the same amount of enthusiasm before letting your gaze fall on him. 

He feels his mouth dry up as you take him in. What is he supposed to say? Hi? Long time no see? Sorry, I broke up with you and then the world ended? 

Lucky for him a certain 14-year-old is there and always ready to fill the silence. 

“Hi, I'm Ellie.” 

Joel watched as she bounced right up to you, eager to get to know the new stranger. 

“I know…I've uh seen you around the stables.” You say slowly

“Oh yeah! That foal Shimmer she's super cute!” 

Dinner is awkward or well, Joel is awkward. He sits next to Ellie and listens to her talk your ears off about this and that, mostly mundane things like her comics or fun facts about space. You listen intently, adding comments here and there and Joel's reminded of the way you'd listen to Sarah's ramblings. 

Tommy nudges his foot under the table and Joel looks up to see Maria looking at him expectantly.

“Sorry, what?” He asks 

“I was asking if you'd want to try your hand at patrol later this week. Tommy said you're not fitting in with any of the other jobs around here.” She says 

The idea is a great one, truly. Joel has felt rather trapped the past month behind Jackson's huge walls. Leaving again would feel like a breath of fresh air. 

“That’d be great.” He nods in thanks, thinking of how nice it'd be to do something other than bake bread or sweep stables. 

“Good.” Maria smiles before turning to you, “And you, can show Joel the ropes.” 

Joel nearly chokes on his food and he hears you sputter into your glass of water. 

“What?” 

Three days later and It's around 7 in the morning when Maria forces you and Joel out of the gates of Jackson. Mounted on horseback Joel follows your lead as you explain the basic route. 

“We'll stop down at this mall today. Sweep for infected and people.” You say, “There's a Macy's that hadn't been cleared out yet, Ellie might like some of the girl's clothes there.” 

Joel nods, he hasn't said anything much to you, only asking a few questions. Truly, he's not sure what to say. Does he start with small talk, the weather, how Shimmer is doing? Or does he dive right in to address what both of you dance around? 

Joel follows you around, listening to you talk about the route, what you normally see, and how many people you've run into in the past few months. Unsurprisingly, he's good at all of it, asking the right questions and following your lead. Now, as you stand in the ruins of Greenpines Mall, you watch him sift through racks of the Juniors section of Macy's. 

“Can I help?” You ask, probably tired of just standing there in silence and watching him.

“Uh, yeah. She's into space and dinosaurs. Probably a size small in everything but hoodies. Said she likes em’ oversized.” 

You nod and walk to another rack, pushing different items aside and mumbling about how hard it was going to be to find a dinosaur in the teenage girl's section.

Joel stuffs a few items into his backpack and you're able to find a nice maroon sweatshirt. 

“The men's section is that way.” You point to your left, “I'm gonna uh… go upstairs and grab some stuff for myself.” 

“Should stick together.” Joel reasons, following where your finger points “Safer like that.” 

You look at him and he hopes you can tell he's being fully serious. His brows pinch together, anticipating you'll reject him. 

“Fine. But no complaining.” 

Joel wasn't expecting to find himself in the lingerie section of the store. The embarrassed huff he lets out has you laughing. At least you were happy about all this. 

“Quit whining, I just need a few new bras.” You sigh turning away from him as he stands there, making sure his eyes remain fixed on the floor. 

Just because the world had ended didn't mean he wanted to be surrounded by racks of ladies' underwear and bras.

You only get about twenty steps from him and he takes a small step back, bumping into something tall. A loud curse falls from his lips as he tries to catch the mannequin he's knocked over. 

“God bless it…” He groans, trying to stand her back up. 

He catches the way you roll your eyes when his hands land on the mannequin's plastic tits, perfectly obscured bythe  red lace of some skimpy overpriced thing. 

He didn't mean to do that, he swears. 

“Maybe don't grope the models, Joel.” You tease 

“I'm not.” Joel snaps, finally getting it to stand again, “Walked into it by accident.” 

“Sure you did.” 

Joel didn't know what to expect from you today. Stony silence had been at the top of his list. Teasing him though? That hadn't been anywhere on his radar. 

You're so different yet familiar at the same time, it's driving him up the wall. 

He keeps his eyes on the floor as you hum an unknown tune, picking different things up for yourself, and muttering about sizing.

Joel lets out a grunt when you shove something into his chest. 

“Give these to Ellie too.” You say, “In the apocalypse, a girl can never have too many sports bras.” 

He doesn't bother looking at the fabric in his hands, trusting your judgment and simply moving to place it next to the shirts he's already picked up for Ellie. 

The ride back to Jackson is quiet. No teasing words from you, and the horse's trotting fills the silence as a few birds chirp as they fly overhead. 

The fact that you seem content not to mention anything from the past has Joel's stomach in knots. Surely you can't be okay with it all? He's spent the past month worrying about how he'd ever address any of it. 

“We're not gonna talk about it?” He asks

“About what?” You ask “You mean the mannequin? I was just kidding about that, Joel.” 

“About us.” He says quietly 

A beat of silence and then, 

“What do you want me to say, Joel?” 

“Anythin’. Yell at me. Scream. Slap me.” Joel huffs, “Don't wanna spend time dancin’ around our past. Let it all out.” 

You let out a scoff that has Joel's stomach dropping, 

“I don't see why I should do any of that. It was 20 years ago, Joel. I've made my peace with it.” 

Joel looks over at you, taking in the way the setting sun makes your features glow. Your gaze is fixed on the gates of Jackson. They're only half a mile away but they might as well be half a million with the way your gaze is so permanently fixed on them. All of a sudden, you're adamant about not looking at him. 

A dozen things swarm in his mind. Half of him wants to get off his horse, pull you off yours and shake you until you come to your senses, to urge you to put him through the ringer and really let him have it. The other half of him is telling him that you look really good today and that he noticed your bra size has gone up since 2003. 

God, he was losing it. 

So many things that could be said, perhaps should be said yet all that comes out of him is, 

“Alright, suit yourself.” 

For the next two weeks,  Joel doesn't see much of you. Every once in a while he peaks through the curtains of his own home, hoping to get a glimpse of you returning but, he never does.

Ellie of course, takes immediate notice of his window-watching and declares that he ‘has a huge crush on the horse lady next door!’. 

To Joel's mortification, she takes this information to Maria who tells Tommy, and before Joel knows it he's being teased by his younger brother in his own damn home. 

“And she doesn't know anything about you and her?” Tommy asks one evening over a glass of whiskey 

“No. And I'm keeping it that way. So don't go running your mouth.” Joel says glaring at his younger brother. 

Tommy raises his hands in Innocence. 

“If Ellie finds out it won't be from me.” He says, “But she'll find out, eventually. You know that right, Joel?” 

“No, she won't.” 

You spend more time and effort avoiding Joel than you should. At first, you thought you might be able to work around your shared past, but you teased him on your one and only shared patrol shift. But, when Joel asked you to share your thoughts on the past, you had clammed up. It was then, half a mile from Jackson's gates that you knew you wouldn't be able to be friendly with him. 

You didn't know what Joel wanted. He said he wanted you to scream at him, to curse him out about a three-month relationship that happened 20 years ago. And maybe, if he'd shown up a few years back with Tommy you might've. Instead, it's like your mouth has been glued shut about it all. 

Over the past two weeks, your mind had conjured a thousand different things to say to him. Some are full of anger, others sadness. But, you never say any of them. Instead, you choose to avoid him, trading patrol shifts and even taking graveyard shifts at the wall to put distance between the two of you. 

Maria had coined it one day after you invited her over for lunch so you could talk to her about her baby. 

“You're scared.” She said after listening to the way you described not being able to confront him about it.

“Scared?” You scoff as you shove a spoonful of soup into your mouth, “He should be scared of me.” 

“You're scared it'll happen all over again. That he'll leave you like he did back then.” 

Maria was so wrong. Honestly, she was losing her mind. You chalked it up to the baby. Yes, that evil little fetus was probably munching away at her brain to grow its own. Ironic since Cordyceps pretty much did the same thing. 

Scared? You weren't scared of Joel Miller. No, not in a thousand years.

Wednesday, January 21, 2024. A day that Joel was going to mull over probably for the rest of his life. After all, it marked the start of a friendship.

He was surprised to find you already in the stables, ready for patrol for the day. Finally, you'd turned up instead of some random person you'd found to switch shifts with. 

“Mornin’ sweetheart.” He says, the name flying off his tongue before he can stop it. 

You shoot him a look he can't quite place as he saddles up his horse, Turnip. 

“Don't do that.” You huff as you stroke your own horse, Pepper's mane avoiding eye contact with him. 

“What?” Joel asks dumbly knowing full well you mean the nickname he'd let slip. 

How many times had he called you that back in the day? Over the three months, it must've been well over a thousand. 

“ Don't give me little nicknames with that stupid voice of yours and pretend you don't know what you're doing.” You scold 

“Sorry.” Joel sighs, pulling himself onto his horse as you saddle up, “Wait you think my voice is stupid?” 

The day goes by smoothly. No infected or people to be seen. Joel is surprised when you point out deer tracks. 20 years ago you'd shuddered at the idea of blood, now you were plotting the demise of some deer that wasn't even here. 

“It's probably long gone.” He says 

Your face falls in disappointment, “Really?” 

“Tracks are old. There's snow drifts over a few of them too.” He points at the ground to the prints that are further up.

“Damn…I thought I had it this time.” You huff 

“Tracking isn't easy.” Joel says, “Takes time.” 

“Tommy's been teaching me, but I'm not really good at it.” You sigh 

Joel feels jealousy swirl in his chest. What was he even jealous of? His married brother teaching his ex-girlfriend a vital survival skill in the apocalypse? There was something seriously wrong with Joel's brain these days. 

“You're better than Ellie. She wouldn't have even seen the tracks, let alone been able to tell that it was a deer.” 

“So you're saying I'm a bit better than a 14-year-old who doesn't even know what the Internet was?” 

Joel shrugs and gives you a small smile. 

“Thanks, Joel. I appreciate it.” You roll your eyes 

“Anytime, sweetheart.” 

A sharp glare is sent to him and he sits up a bit straight. Turnip snorts as he falls into step beside Pepper. 

“Sorry, I'll stop. I swear.” 

Joel watches as you munch away at deer jerky and dried pieces of fruit. He takes note of the way you practically engulf your lunch. He'd noticed the same thing a few weeks back at the New Years Eve dinner. You'd shoved your entire plate of the delicious ham Maria had made into your mouth in record time. Even Ellie had taken more time to eat the meal and Joel had recently watched the kid eat three cookies in what was basically one bite. 

“Slow down.” He warns “You're going to choke.” 

You look up from your food, staring at him with wide eyes and a stuffed mouth that probably would put chipmunks to shame.

“This is slow.” You say after you somehow swallow it all. 

Joel raises a brow at that. Do you even realize you've put away nearly double what he had in half the time? 

During your time together you'd often reminded Joel of a bird. Picking at different foods and then slowly eating whatever you deem good. In true college student fashion, most of those foods had been pizza and greasy Chinese takeout. Not that he could blame you, he also thoroughly enjoyed both of those things way back when. 

The woman who sits In front of him is not the one he dated as a 35-year-old man. You're even eating the raisins out of the trail mix, and Joel knows you hate raisins. 

“Just…take a breath. Drink some water.” He says, eying you carefully, pushing the canteen towards you. 

You huff and unscrew the cap, drinking a bit before shutting it again. 

“Happy?” 

“Yes,” Joel says 

Back on the horses, Joel notices the way you're looking a bit ill. Your face is screwed up a bit and he can tell you're nauseous. It's from eating too quickly, he can tell. You'd eaten all of your food and then when he'd offered some of his own, you'd enthusiastically taken him up on it. Normally he'd have no issues with it but it was the speed that concerned him. 

“Wanna stop for a bit?” He asked, hoping you weren't going to puke onto poor Pepper's head. 

You nod and quickly dismount from Pepper. Joel ties the horses off on a nearby tree before walking over to you. Patrol be damned, he had to make sure you weren't going to lose all the food you just ate. 

You're curled up on yourself, your head resting on your knees as he sits down next to you. 

“You okay?” He asks 

“Sorry.” You mumble sadly into your knees 

“For what?” Joel asks, “You're doing me a favor, getting me off that horse. My back is aching.” 

“Sorry for being a glutton. I ate all my own food and then some of yours…” You groan, “I'm disgusting.” 

“You're not a glutton.” Joel says, “Being hungry isn't a crime. Just gotta eat it slower. You're making yourself sick.” 

You're silent for a moment, probably weighing your options as Joel runs his gloved hands through the snow. And then, in a voice so quiet it nearly missed it, you speak again, 

“It's not my fault…” 

Joel looks over at you, your head is back up, and you're focused on the threads of your jacket and the way they've begun to pull away from the seam. 

“It's not my fault.” You say again, a bit louder again

“What's not your fault?” Joel asks, unsure of where this is going 

“The doc at the clinic says it's…that it's because of the time I spent with them. It's because of them that I can't eat normally anymore.” You say sadly 

“Spent time with who?” Joel asks 

“Adam. And the others. Especially the leader, he was missing two teeth.” You say, staring at your hands 

“Who's Adam?” Joel asks softly 

He wants you to look at him, even just the smallest glance right now would bring him some peace of mind. This Adam, Joel wanted to know who he was, where he was, what he'd done. 

All of a sudden, you're staring right at him, eyes glossed over with fear, 

“No one.” You whisper “No one at all.” 

May 2017 

Loki had been dead for two weeks. Two weeks since you'd been tied to this tree, two weeks of no food and just stale water poured from the redhead's canteen in the middle of the night. 

The redhead, Adam, pours you water each night after the others have passed out. He's supposed to be keeping watch, not making sure their newest toy is hydrated enough not to die. 

“Slow down.” He says, the back of his hand on your head as he holds the canteen to your lips 

When it's finally empty you look at him. He has blue eyes, something you hadn't taken note of before. 

“You need to eat it. They won't give you anything else until you do.” He advises 

Adam points at your feet where a small bag sits. You know what he's talking about. The leader, the one who reeks and is missing his two front teeth took special care to dry out a piece of your pet. Each day he'd demand you eat the jerky that was made from Loki. 

“I can't.” You say 

“They'll let you starve. I've seen it before with other girls.” Adam says, pulling a piece of the jerky out, “Just one bite, and I bet he'll give you deer tomorrow.” 

“Why should I?” You hiss “Why should I bother eating? So I can be strong for whenever you want to use me? I'd rather starve than extend my time here with you.” 

Adam looks at you, his face unreadable. You watch as he stands back up, backing away from you and your tree.

“Fine, starve then.” 

Another week passes before he coaxes a bite of the jerky into your mouth. The leader sees this, and claps you on the back, 

“What a good whore you're going to be.” 

The next day, a small bowl of venison-filled soup is presented to you. 

Adam spoons it into your mouth bite by bite cooing to you that you're doing so well. 

When you've finished the bowl, you want to ask for more, but Adam has you standing up.  Before you can protest or ask for more food,  your pants have been ripped down to your ankles and Adam takes you against your tree.

Your hot tears begin to dribble down your face as you try to block out Adam's grunts. 

The other men cheer when he finishes.

Warm cum drips down your legs as vomit pools in your throat, you lose the soup and the last bit of your dignity with it. 

Your days are long. You spend most of them on your back or on your belly. The other men are content with this, just wanting the warmth of a woman here at the end of the world.

 The worst of it though is whenever the leader, who you've dubbed the Walrus since no one ever says his name, puts you on all fours beneath him. 

You quickly learn that the Walrus has a kink for pain. Or well, inflicting it. You don't get to see them, but each night Adam cleans your back and inner thighs, changing bandages and keeping the cuts from the Walrus’ knife clean. 

The Walrus also takes delight in giving you what was basically toddler-sized portions of food. A couple of bits of jerky one day, followed by three small spoonfuls of beans the next. He laughs whenever he sees you watching the men eat. He'll say something about women not deserving more than what he's already giving you before walking off.

You swear that you're going to be nothing but a pile of bones as the days roll by. 

At night, Adam feeds you more food. In exchange you let him pepper your skin with kisses. It turns out that if you pretend to like it, not only is he gentler when he puts himself inside, but he'll also bring you more food. 

Some nights you're so full it feels like you'll burst. Adam gets what he wants, a fake lover, and you get what you want, a full belly. 

Winter 2024 

You're silent during the ride back into Jackson. You whisper something to Pepper and Joel finds himself asking if he can walk you home. Physically you're right next to him but mentally? Joel can tell you're not there, you're trapped in some memory, for your sake, he hopes it's a good one. 

He walks you right up to your front porch and watches as you fumble with your keys. He says your name out loud for the first time in 20 years and you're snapping out of whatever trance you were in. 

“I know you don't want to talk about us…but I…I don't want to be a stranger to you.” He says honestly 

Joel can't lose you. He doesn't want to, not again. Fear be damned, he was going to keep you by his side this time. 

“Can we…can we be friends?” He asks slowly 

He can tell you're tossing it around your brain, thinking it over. 

“Okay.” You say after a moment, “We can be friends.” 

Next Part

I hope I was clear enough but: 

For those that can't tell, basically in the current time the reader has a fear of food being withheld the way it was with Adam. The result is binge eating until she's sick from it. She basically views food as a safety blanket of sorts and is scared that it'll disappear if she doesn't consume it. 

And yes, Joel's return into her life will slowly fix this issue. 

Updates are going to be slower since I have finals coming. Hope you can bear with me and please pray I pass my math one. It's a core class and I need her to keep going in my major ❤️

Comment to be added to the tag list. This tag list is not chapter by chapter, I carry the tags over to each part.

Tags:

@lunaticgurly  @orcasoul  @snowlycanroc  @freythecrazyfae

@person-005 @greenwitchfromthewoods

[padmesweetheart]

Hold You Up

Pairing: Hayden Christensen x Reader

Setting: Early 2000s (during the height of the Y2K diet culture era)

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Romance

Warnings: Disordered eating themes, passing out, early 2000s toxic body standards, but ends with comfort and support

Please be careful when reading.

It started small.

No more cream in your coffee.

Skipping the fries at dinner.

Choosing gym time over sleep.

At first, Hayden didn’t think much of it—everyone was talking about low-carb this, Atkins that, and those glossy magazine covers practically screamed at you to shrink yourself. But as the weeks went on, he began to notice the way your eyes flicked nervously at calorie counts. How you’d pick at your food like it might bite back. How you’d smile at him like everything was fine… but your jeans had started to hang on your hips.

He didn’t want to push. Not when you brushed it off with a “just trying to be healthy.”

Not when he caught you weighing yourself at night, flinching like you were ashamed to be caught.

Not when you insisted you were fine, just tired, even though he could hear your stomach growl from across the room.

———-

THE GYM – TUESDAY NIGHT

You’d begged Hayden to come with you. Said you liked when he was there, liked seeing him a few treadmills over with his hoodie half off and headphones slipping down his neck. It was a strange comfort, having him close while you punished yourself quietly with cardio and calorie math.

Hayden had just finished a light set of weights when he glanced over and noticed something wasn’t right.

Your steps were uneven. You were on the treadmill, sure but your movements looked… off. Sluggish. Your hand hovered over the stop button, but never pressed it. Your face had gone pale, and your eyes were unfocused.

“Babe?” Hayden stood slowly, sweat towel draped over one shoulder. “Hey—hey, you good?”

And then you stumbled.

It happened in a blink.

Your knee buckled.

Your hand missed the rail.

And your body crumpled sideways off the treadmill before he could even get to you.

“Y/N!”

The sound of the machine thudding to a stop, the slap of shoes on rubber floors, someone yelling for help it all bled together as Hayden dropped to his knees beside you.

Your breathing was shallow. A cold sheen of sweat clung to your forehead. He cradled your head in his hands, voice shaking. “Hey, baby—hey, I got you, I got you. Stay with me, okay?”

You didn’t respond. Your lips were tinged pale.

Hayden looked up at the gym staff rushing over, panic tightening in his chest like a vice. “Call someone,” he barked. “She passed out. She wasn’t—she hasn’t eaten—Shit, just get someone!”

————

LATER – YOUR APARTMENT

You didn’t go to the hospital. You insisted it wasn’t that bad once you’d woken up, dizzy and humiliated. Hayden didn’t argue in front of anyone but once he got you home, that was another story.

He hovered while you lay on the couch with a cool cloth on your head, silence stretching between you like glass.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, voice barely audible.

“You’re not fine.” Hayden’s voice cracked. “You passed out. At the gym. In front of everyone.”

You looked away, swallowing hard.

His hand ran through his hair. He paced, then crouched in front of you so you had to look at him. “Talk to me. Please.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you whispered. “I just… I thought I was doing everything right. Skipping sugar. Doing cardio. Eating low-fat—”

“Not eating at all,” he cut in, eyes glistening. “You didn’t need to do any of that. Not for me. Not for anyone.”

“I wanted to be good enough.”

Hayden stared at you, frozen.

You forced out a laugh. “You’re surrounded by models and actresses and magazine-perfect people all the time. And me? I’m still stuck in jeans from junior high and I get bloated after eating one piece of pizza and—”

“Stop.” His voice was gentle, but firm. “You don’t ever have to earn my love. Ever. It’s not something you get by disappearing.”

A tear rolled down your cheek. Hayden caught it with his thumb.

He sank down beside you and pulled you into his arms, wrapping you tight against his chest. You felt his heartbeat thudding like a war drum beneath your ear.

“I’ve seen the magazines too,” he said after a moment. “They all scream the same thing thin is better. Sexy means starving. I hate it. I hate that you’ve been quietly hurting while smiling at me like everything’s fine.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” you whispered. “I thought you’d think I was being dramatic.”

“I think you’re being honest. And brave.”

He kissed your hair. His hands trembled a little where they held you. “I want you healthy. I want you strong. I want you happy. I don’t give a damn if you fit into some bullshit beauty standard.”

You pulled away just enough to look at him. His eyes were glassy.

“I was scared today,” he admitted. “I thought—God, I thought I was gonna lose you.”

You leaned into him again, your voice cracked and raw. “I’ll try. I’ll get help.”

“You won’t do it alone,” Hayden said firmly. “I’ll be there. Every step. I’ll eat the damn pizza with you. I’ll delete every scale in a ten-mile radius. I’ll remind you every single day that you’re enough.”

You laughed weakly. “Even if I eat carbs?”

“Especially if you eat carbs.”

—————

WEEKS LATER

Recovery wasn’t a straight line. There were days you cried at the mirror. Days you almost skipped breakfast. Days where the whispers of “not good enough” still crept in.

But Hayden was always there

He started making breakfast for both of you always something filling, always shared. He wrote notes on your mirror that said things like You are enough, and Strong is beautiful, and You better eat lunch or I’m telling your mom.

He celebrated every little win.

When you said, “I ate pasta today,” he grinned like you’d won the lottery.

When you said, “I didn’t weigh myself this morning,” he kissed you breathless.

And when you said, “I felt good in my skin today,” he looked at you like the stars had aligned.

—————

ONE NIGHT

You were curled on the couch with Hayden, head on his chest as he absentmindedly played with your fingers.

“Hey,” he murmured. “Wanna hear something crazy?”

You looked up. “What?”

“You were perfect to me from day one. Before the gym. Before any of this.”

You smiled softly. “Even when I was bloated?”

“Especially when you were bloated. You get all pouty and adorable.”

You swatted his chest. “I’m gonna punch you.”

“Too weak from lack of carbs.”

You gasped, mock-offended. “Rude.”

He kissed you to shut you up.

And in that moment, pressed safe against him, laughter between kisses and his hands warm around your waist, you started to believe that maybe just maybe you were more than enough.

You are more than enough

[cerise-angel]

comfortable

soft!leon kennedy x fem!sick!reader blurb

requested by @personnamedraptor hope you like it honey! sorry for the long wait just fluff, readers feeling sick/dizzy and leon helps wrote based on friends experiences with low sugar and my experience with changing psych meds lol

you had spent the day feeling dizzy, cold and sweaty, shaking like a wet dog. it wasn't the first time that this happened, but it did not made it more bearable. you woke up normally, but only a few hours after being awake your body decided that it wasnt a good day. leon had already left for whatever is that he actually does when not in a mission, so he didn't know. during the day, you ate something sweet and something of salt, trying to bring your sugar level up and your hunger and dizziness down, but it didn't help much. you still felt nauseous, with a headache and the clammy hands. so you decided to curl yourself in a small burrito blanket, turn the tv on some random tv show and try to fall asleep. you didnt notice when leon got home, either being too tired or him being too sneaky. probably both. he called your name, thinking youd be in the small office your apartment had, but got no answer. he got worried, not seeing you. he walked straight to the bedroom, feeling relieved that you were just asleep on the bed. he took off his shoes and jacket before reaching to your laying form in bed. leon touched your cheeks and got worried again, you were sweating and warm. with some reluctance of you he managed to peel your body out of the blanket, and helped you to stay in a seated position after you woke up. "whats wrong?" you focused on his pretty eyes, now with a frown between them. you clutch to him needing some comfort. "my body decided to malfunction today" you muttered in an attempt to light up the mood. he chuckled softly and you smiled. "should we take you to the hospital?" he asked cautiously, knowing you didnt like the whole idea of hospitals. you shook your head slowly, since you were still a little dizzy. "did you took your meds today? did you eat something?" you nodded, rubbing your cheeks on his chest, putting yourself in his lap. leon eased you in his lap, pulling the blanket to cover your legs. he kissed your head before inquiring again "gonna order something to eat ok?" "pizza please?" he nodded smilling. you smiled back, turning a little so that his chest was pressed on your back and your legs spread on the bed. you felt a little better, but self conscious, you could feel the sweat clamming to your clothes. "can you help me shower? dont feel super good" he looked at you with a smirk. "we can have shower together. you see me naked, and i see you naked." you laughed. he pulled you closer "only if you want to, i can just help you too." he said in a softer tone, not wanting to do anything that you wouldnt want to. you smiled at him, squeezing his arm. "we can shower together. you need to make sure i wont pass out." when you said that, leons brows furrowed, worry growing on his features. you laughed at his expression and pressed a kiss to his lips. "just joking, im not feeling that dizzy anymore." he sighed. "you need to stop playing games with me woman" you gigled at his dramatic tone and got out of bed. leon was up right after you, an arm circling your waist, supporting you even if you didnt felt the need right now. he nuzzled your neck before speaking with a soft voice "cmon, gonna take care of you."

[gotta-winwin]

(🎞️) ... hit the road docu.<> after passing this halfway mark

masterlist | cyana's masterlist

word count: 1.3k tw: anxiety, sleep deprivation italics are interviews cut between scenes + english a/n: joshua has my whole heart and soul - enjoy cyana being the maternal figure even though she's the youngest lol

Joshua’s head felt like it was splitting in half. 

“Could you pass me the aspirin?” He asked one of the passing staff, his head throbbing just from the sound of his own voice. It felt like any noise would reverbreate, bouncing around in his skull and crushing his mind. 

He could feel Cyana’s worried eyes on him as he swallowed down the pill. 

“Shua.” She beckoned to him with a wave of her hand, patting the spot next to her. “Come here.” 

He humored her, stumbling over and flopping down onto the couch. Closing his eyes, he bit back a curse. He hated the headaches he’d get whenever he was sleep deprived. 

“My grandmother used to massage my head whenever I got headaches.” Cyana motioned for him to lie down, placing his head gently down in her lap. “My hands are kinda cold, sorry.” 

Joshua closed his eyes and relished the feeling of her hands playing with his hair, traveling down to his temples and rubbing firmly. He let out a deep sigh, the weight that had been beating against his skull lessened. 

From above him, Cyana began to hum, enjoying how peaceful Joshua looked in her lap, the scrunch between his eyebrows disappearing as he relaxed. 

“Sleep, Shua.” She whispered, drawing circles against his temples. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Our American tour was special to me because I was born there. I was excited to see all my friends and family. I wanted them to see how much I had grown up.” Joshua smiled. “So our American tour was extra special.” 

“Who’s most likely to kick someone while sleeping?” 

Cyana raised the headshot of Mingyu, laughing at his betrayed expression. She was surprised that she was enjoying their media promotion run, feeling much more free when answering interview questions in English. 

She knew Joshua felt the exact opposite though. As the oldest English speaking member, it was natural for the responsibility of navigating foreign interviews to fall on his shoulders. 

“I felt a sense of responsibility to carry the team through the questions well.” Joshua explained. “So I would always look through the scripts and questions beforehand, discussing them with Vernon and Nana.”

“How should we answer this one?” Joshua pointed at question 3, the one about TMIs they could give as a group. 

Vernon shrugged. “We haven’t got much TMIs.” 

“Just talk about sleeping a lot during tour. Or that Mingyu and Wonwoo went to a museum yesterday.” Cyana nudged Joshua gently. “It doesn’t have to be anything that interesting.” She giggled at her next thought. “It’s not like we can say ‘Hoshi takes 45 minutes to shit’ on Buzzfeed.” 

From beside her, Vernon gasped for breath as he laughed. Joshua smacked her shoulder, proud of her joke. 

“I see all that media training Coups put you through is paying off.” He commented through spouts of laughter. 

Cyana held her head up highly, proud. “Of course.” 

“We should say that though.” Vernon nudged Joshua. “Right? It’d be funny.” 

“Soonyoung might kill us.” 

“Joshua took most of the questions during our media press tour.” Cyana admitted to the camera, looking a bit regretful. “The rest of them tried their best, but it was just better coming from a fluent speaker. Vernon took some questions too but I-” She paused, looking a bit ashamed. “I was too nervous to do much. I wish I had done more, so Shua wouldn’t have felt so much of the burden.”

Cyana groaned through a mouthful of Chicago pizza, relishing the flavour and texture. “This is amazing.” She spoke to Joshua, her words muffled as she pointed to the large slice in her hands.

He was busy eating his own slice, eyes focused on a tv show playing from his phone. 

She found herself spending most nights with Joshua, as the others preferred to explore the city and host mini parties in their hotel rooms. She’d only return back to her and Dino’s shared room once Dino texted to let her know that the party was over. 

She just preferred quiet nights like this over anything else in the world. 

“Hey!” She protested when Hoshi, appearing out of nowhere, reached over and snuck a bite off her pizza. 

Smiling at her with twinkling eyes, Hoshi merely pinched her cheek in retaliation. “Thanks, Nana. It’s delicious.”

“I know it’s delicious. It’s mine though.” She shielded the rest of her slice from him. “There’s more on the table over there.” 

Wonwoo stepped into the room, moving to stand behind her. “It smells good.” He mused, staring longingly at the slice in her hands. 

A tiny smile crossed her face almost subconsciously, as she lifted her hands and allowed him to take a bite. “It’s good right?”

“Favourtism.” Hoshi grumbled from behind a nodding Wonwoo.

“We’re going outside.” Wonwoo gesutred between him and Hoshi to Cyana. “Do you want to join?”

She shook her head, reaching up to wipe the sauce that had somehow landed itself on his chin. Neither one reacted to the gesture, continuing on as if the intimate contact was just another normal moment. Joshua and Hoshi however, exchanged unmistakable looks of interest. 

“Seventeen is a team that made my dream come true and made my mom proud of me.” Joshua’s eyes shone as he spoke. “Seventeen made me a special person, and since only good things came to me, I’d say Seventeen is a blessing.” 

“You should sleep, Shua.” Cyana chided from her spot on Jeonghan’s bed. Dino’s little gathering with the others was dragging on later than usual and she found herself taking solace with the 95 line. 

Joshua shook his head stubbornly. “I won’t be able to sleep even if I tried.” 

“I think I probably only slept two hours a day that month.” He admitted to the camera, sheepish. “It was hard to sleep when there was so much to worry about.” 

“Listen to Nana.” Jeonghan mumbled from the bed, his eyes already closed. “Go to sleep.” 

“Your mind is whirring too fast when you try to sleep, right?” Cyana asked him, switching suddenly to English. “And it’s like your mind is running on a train track with no brakes.” 

Joshua nodded slowly. The thing that had been ailing him was finally being put into words. 

Cyana hopped from Jeonghan’s bed over to his, crossing over Jeonghan’s body with poise and grace.

“And all you can think about is the past, the future, moments that you’ve forgotten for so long.” Cyana had a faraway look in her eyes as she spoke, sitting down. “And it’s like a whirlpool, sucking you in.”

“That’s right.” Joshua mumbled, watching as she got comfortable against the pillows on his bed. “How do you deal with it? Shut it off.” 

Cyana offered him a small smile that looked more like a grimace. “If I knew I would have told you a long time ago.” She motioned for him to join her, her hands grabbing the air. “We just have to try and sleep. And think about something else.” 

He closed the lights, whispering a quiet goodnight to Jeonghan before sliding into bed. “Like what?”

“I think about you guys.” She admitted in the darkness. “And all the happy and silly moments.” 

“That sounds nice.” 

“Right?” She shuffled a bit, twisting to see his face in the darkness. She could just make out the frame of his face and his doe eyes, staring back at her. “I think there’s something beautiful about drifting off the sleep picturing the ones you love most.”

“I thought you were going back to your room.” He whispered, careful not to disturb Jeonghan. “Didn’t you tell Dino you’d be back?”

“I’ll stay here tonight.” She whispered back. “I’m too lazy to move.” 

Joshua knew that wasn’t the truth. He knew she was staying for him, to make sure he actually fell asleep. He felt his heart clench with strong affection. 

“Thank you.” 

Cyana turned onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. “Of course.” 

She liked saying that. Of course. Because everything she did for them was guaranteed and granted. There was never a need for any thank yous because of course she’d do anything for them. 

a/n: anxiety and having a mind that runs too fast is actually the worse combination possible.

[weskie]

The Future of a Past Life (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader)

1700 words, domesticity, themes of corporal punishment, recollections, established relationship, somehow fluffy, part of the lover, leader, liar series | Fic Directory

“What was your childhood like?” 

“So what exactly made you think to do this?” 

You appear caught off guard by such a question.  Good.  You should be.  

Wesker had asked you to stay and eat with him after you’d surprised him with lunch from the sandwich shop he frequents.  It was the least he felt he should do.  Simply taking it and ushering you out felt wrong.  How you’d discovered his preference was a mystery, though it would not surprise him if one of the team’s blabbermouths had spotted him there.  He wasn’t shy about how often he frequented the store, but why should he be?  

“Well, just…” You start, head nodding from side to side as you try to formulate your answer.  You’re a peculiar thing to him.  Always have been.  “I heard you’ve done two all-nighters already this week and thought it would be nice.”

He’s already thanked you, but he hums another expression of gratitude before biting into his sandwich.  He’d never tried this one in particular before.  A ‘wedgie sandwich,’  you’d called it.  Essentially just an Italian sub mashed between thin pizza dough.  Messy, but certainly something he would get again.

“How much was mine?”  Wesker asks, wiping away a dribble of sauce that had leaked onto his fingers.  Gift or not, feelings of indebtedness were not optimal.  

“It’s a mystery.” You smirk.  

“Then I’ll call the shop and ask for the prices.”  He replies, lip quirking just the tiniest bit as he slowly reaches for the rotary phone. You don’t budge.  Maybe you know that he doesn’t know the number off the top of his head.  The phone book is in the cabinet behind him.  He could find it, but he decides not to.  “Fine,” he relents.  “I’ll just have to return the favor sometime.”

You often sit with him while he works.  There wasn’t much for you to do around the facility given the different varieties of research were far beyond your expertise.  You were Alpha Team’s field medic and the one in charge of maintaining their firearms back at the station. Virology was beyond your understanding. At least for now.  

Sometimes you occupied yourself by trying to further your knowledge of him, asking questions that had been too far off the table of whatever it was that you two had been prior to what you were now.  It was fine.  You’d ask; he’d answer. You’d share; he’d listen.  But then you inquired about… that.

“What was your childhood like?” 

He’d decided to work at the kitchen table while you cooked.  Your occasional banter was not unwelcome and he’d been meeting it with apt replies despite how absorbed he’d been in test results and future trial concepts. 

Ink bleeds from where his pen had halted on the paper.  Like a dark void staining the present, growing with each passing second that he doesn’t lift it.  What should he tell you, hm?  Should he tell you anything at all?  Would it be wrong to regale you with the tales of his youth?  He doubts you’d ever betray him.  And, even if you did, so what?  Other than a broken heart, there was little you could do to him.

“I…”  He begins, but he doesn’t quite know where to start.

His bed was beside the window.  A privilege of the school’s top students.  The dormitory had cleared out entirely. They’d all gone home for the holiday.  To their families…  Everyone but him, of course.

He’s spending his eleventh Christmas alone.  He’d done exactly the same for the past ten.  What was one more?

Flakes of snow swirled beyond the glass.  The cold bite of the wind leaked through the old seals, chilling him beneath his wool blanket.  Albert tried his best to calm the chattering of his teeth and shivering shakes that rattled his body, but he couldn’t.  The dorms always froze terribly in the winter.  Normally the collective body heat of the others helped warm the room enough to be bearable.

It was forbidden to take another's bed, but the thought always left his skin crawling anyway.  The others were unkempt and strange.  Poor hygiene was a punishable offense, but it seemed to matter little in the eyes of the staff.  Only rare cases of such were ever met with discipline.  The occasional booger picker didn’t go unnoticed either.

He’d rather freeze than sleep in another’s rotten bed.  He curls in on himself to conserve body heat.  Tears bite at his eyes.

His body is numb when he wakes the next day.  His legs refuse to stand.  He hardly registers the chill of the floor.

Discipline… 

To not rise this very instant is to be late. To be late is to miss the morning headcount. To miss this is to violate the rules.

Obedience…  

Violations are acts of disobedience. Such acts beget punishment.

It takes every ounce of willpower to get on his feet and stumble to the bathrooms.

He must warm up enough to function.  He has no choice.  The heat of the shower burns white hot against his reddened skin. 

Wesker makes it early to the morning headcount.

“I was raised in a boarding school.”  He says cooly, pen still bleeding into the paper.  Wesker’s eyes are locked onto the glass of water you’d placed in front of him long ago.  Condensation drips along the sides and settles into the wood grain of the table.  Your kindness to him will leave behind a mark on the furniture. “I lived there year round.”

There’s a pang of something in his chest when you turn from the stove to look at him.  You’re wearing some silly ruffled maid apron that you thought would be far funnier than one of a more standard design. He has to clear the tightening of his throat before continuing.  

“It was alright.”

A wooden yard stick slams down onto his bloodied knuckles for the umpteenth time.

He’d gotten into a fight.  Another one of the boys, Andrew Haines, had accosted him in the courtyard. It wasn’t his fault the lad made a fool of himself in class.  If he hadn’t wanted to be shown up by Wesker and his correct answer, he should’ve gotten the question right in the first place.  That the teacher berated his classmate’s subpar performance was no fault of his own.

One sucker punch was all it took for Albert to sock him right back.  The supervising staff, of course, only witnessed the second hit.  They were never truly watching.  Only when commotion began did they ever pay any attention, but it was always too late by then.  

His assailant got off scot free. 

“You will learn quickly that fighting is not tolerated here.”  The headmaster grits, teeth bared behind an ugly mustache as he brings the ruler down once more.

Wesker swallows harshly, but he doesn’t react.  Why give him the satisfaction?  It hurts, of course.  It hurt very much the same as the time prior when he’d been met with the wooden paddle after correcting his teacher in mathematics class.

The trick is simply not minding that it hurts.

“Impudence will only get you so far, young man.  You should be thankful that we care enough to correct this behavior.” 

“Yes, sir.”  He answers. “Thank you, sir.”

Whack!

“Recite the tenets.”  The headmaster waves the yard stick in his face.

“Through discipline, we find strength.”

Whack!

“Through obedience, we excel.”

Whack!

“Through unity, we gain power.”

The headmaster doesn’t stop until the stick breaks.  Excessive pain for stoicism in the face of punishment.  

“Damn you, boy!”

Typical.

Wesker’s fingers drip crimson all the way to the bathroom.  It hurts terribly, stinging something fierce when he runs cool water over the broken skin.  Antibacterial soap scalds his trembling hands like fire.

He meets his own eyes in the mirror.  There’s something missing in their icy stare.  Not even the pain touches them.

“I was at the top of my class.”  He continues.

He is seventeen years old, hailed as the best and brightest of his peers.  Doctor Albert Wesker…

He stands at the window next to his bed.  His permanent privilege even in a new school.

He’s got his eyes locked on the moon.  He wonders what it must have been like when Armstrong first stepped upon its dusty surface.  A whole world away…

Away from the nearly silent sound two beds over of his classmate suffocating on his own blood and bile.  His peer’s death will not spawn a monster.

The real one is working in the basements below.

“Mm, that’s not surprising.”  

When did you come so close?  Shouldn’t you be worried about the– oh.  You moved the pan to the oven already.  He knew that.  He saw you do it.  So how did you catch him off guard like that…?

You lean against the table and bring a hand to his cheek.  The scent of lemon tickles his nose and he can’t help but bask in your touch.  It’s so very warm compared to the chill of his memories.

His knuckles tingle…

“Are you okay?”

“Of course.”  His answer comes too quickly and you shoot him a raised brow.  He’s not used to talking about it.  What was the point?  No amount of rehashing it would change the past.  Even then, was it something he’d want to change?

“Your eyes get brighter when you’re upset, you know.”  You tilt his face toward you slightly, just enough to bring his gaze back to yours.

Perhaps he should start wearing his glasses around you again.

“And there’s this.”  You say, tapping at his paper with your free hand.  You’d noticed the ink stain.  “I… If that question made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry.”

Part of a successful relationship is the willingness to share with the other person.  What kind of partner would he be if he denied you that which you’ve so willingly given to him?  He shakes his head.

You didn’t make him uncomfortable.  You never have.

“I was an orphan.”  He blurts.  But you already know this.  The night he showed up at your house after your parents died, he’d bumbled through a weak apology that his ability to empathize was less than stellar.  “I spent a lot of time alone.  The others were… different.”

He was different.   Stronger.  Smarter.

Better.

Somehow his hands find their way into yours.  Your thumbs smooth over the backs of his knuckles.  It’s like you know how to soothe him without actually knowing.  There were no marks there to indicate past damage.  No scarring.  Perhaps later in the evening he’ll confess the worst of it to you.

“Hmph, but I earned the title of Doctor before I’d even turned eighteen.”  His lips quirk.  It’s a humble brag compared to his other accomplishments.  “Academia can be a very beneficial friend.  However, I did find myself involved with the football team as a running back for a time.”

You chuckle warmly and squeeze his hands.  “I unfortunately don’t speak sports, but it sounds like you were an amazing kid.”

He’s received such praise countless times in his life, but it feels different coming from you.  It always has.

“I received many awards.”

Your sweet laughter enchants him somehow, as does the quick kiss you press to his lips.  “Someone sounds humble.”  You tease.

“Humility is my middle name.”

The beep of the oven interrupts another round of soft giggles from you.  Frankly he’d rather allow dinner to burn and keep you where you were, but he can’t quite complain.  Never in his life has a relationship gone so far that home cooked meals were able to become an occurrence.  Domesticity has never been his speed, but he finds that he’s got quite the sweet tooth for it when it comes to you.  He supposes there will be many firsts with you.

He’d like to experience all of them.

[writtenbychris]

“You are a TERRIBLE driver, Michael Jo-Jack!” she pants, completely out of breath after the panic attack she just experienced. “Can't drive for shit, can't park for shit, can't stop for shit!”

Michael just laughs at her, clearly finding all of this amusing.

“You are very dramatic,” he chuckles, opening the pizza box and placing it on the center console.

“Your driving is very dramatic.” she shot back, making him laugh again.

Michael Joseph Jackson had finally gotten his driver's license after much begging from his mother and what is the first thing he does with it?

He takes his girlfriend out on a secret nighttime date of course.

It was a very simple date, hiding in his car in some random ass location, eating pizza and chips and what have you, but to them it was everything because that's virtually the only option they have. Michael is always fucking off somewhere into the sunset to go perform with his brothers, and when he's not doing that, his father is so up the family's ass about practicing and getting ready for the next big gig that they barely have time to breathe. And of course, the young couple can't exactly go out during the day or go out for a fancy dinner without getting harassed by fans, even if they’re both in disguise.

She had migrated from her seat and settled into her boyfriend's lap in his arms, evidently not caring about the fact that it was stupidly hot this evening. She sneak attacks him with a smooch, making him blush and giggle like a little schoolgirl despite being a man in his early twenties.

“Can I tell you somethin’, girl?” Michael says, looking down at her.

“Hm..?”

“We both know that I'm not really supposed to be doing this because Jehovah's Witness forbids it—...”

The girl can't help but roll her eyes. Michael snickers and continues to speak.

“—...But it's never felt so right to do somethin’ wrong.. so I gotta be doing somethin’ right, right?”

“Right,” she chuckles, squeezing him tighter.

“I love you, honey..”

“Right back at you, doomsday driver”

“It's not that bad!”

“Is you jivin'?! You almost killed me you turkey! You so bad at drivin’ that you ran over the oxygen in the air!”

Michael cracks up at this, cry-laughing at her statement to the point that he can barely speak himself.

“You’re real mean, girl...!”

“Only to you, Jackson,” she kisses him once again, though this time it’s longer and more passionate.

After Michael pulls away from the kiss, there is a pensive expression on his face. There was clearly something going on in his mind.

“I got somethin’ else important to tell you…”

“What is it, Mike?”

Michael takes a deep breath and looks down towards the ground. He’s acting like he’s a doctor who is about to inform a patient’s family that their loved one has passed on. His girlfriend puts a hand under his chin, raising his head up so that he’s looking at her.

“Baby it’s okay.. You can tell me, darling..” She gently rubs his cheek with her thumb.

Michael takes another deep breath before he finally speaks.

“The pizza’s cold.”

There’s a long beat of silence, her giving Michael the ‘nigga you have GOT to be kidding me’ face and Michael cracking up because he thinks he’s got jokes.

“You motherfucker!” She yells, playfully starting to hit him.

“Your motherfucker!” he corrects, laughing hysterically while trying to dodge his girlfriend’s hits.

I didn't proofread this 🚫💀👌✨️

[impala-dreamer]

A Simple Kinda Man

Dean’s a pretty simple man. He likes the things he likes and you can rarely get him to change his mind about it. 

He loves classic rock. Epic guitar solos that pour from the speakers and carry you away. Deep, pulsing, intricate bass lines that rock you to your core. Drums that block everything out. Lyrics that paint a picture so clear you can see it with your eyes closed. He rarely voluntarily listens to any music made after 1984, but will tolerate it if you’re driving - those are the rules, after all. And good luck getting him to admit he wiped away a tear listening to that Taylor Swift song you blasted from your room the other night. It won’t happen. Ever.

Dean loves a home-cooked meal, especially if it ends with pie. He doesn’t hate cake, but he finds the frosting too obtrusively sweet. He likes apple pie because it’s warm and tart with just a hint of sweetness hiding behind the biting cinnamon. He likes a rich, flakey crust that you can only get by using real, full-fat butter. Low-fat and calorie-free are not words he is familiar with and actively avoids when roaming the aisles at the grocery store. If he’s gonna eat, he’s gonna enjoy it, cholesterol be damned. He’d happily take a greasy double bacon cheeseburger over even the fanciest offering at a steakhouse and prefers his fries shoestring and deep-fried-orange, thank you very much. He picks his whiskey based on dollar amount not years aged. He’ll eat pizza cold and right off the floor if he has to. He’s not picky, but he likes what he likes. 

He pretends not to care about looks, but he’s been known to mess with his hair in the mirror for way longer than necessary, and he’s once or twice been caught with whitening strips clogging up his mouth. He prefers comfort over fashion but he damned sure knows how to find a tee that’s just a little too tight in all the right places, a pair of jeans that hugs his ass just so. He’s well aware how that deep burgundy flannel shirt brings out the freckles on his cheek and the green of his irises. He’s no fool. He knows he’s handsome; knows when he grins just so his dimples could ignite a fire in a thousand hearts. 

He loves kids but he tries not to think about it too much. Sure, whenever a stroller passes, he sneaks a peek at the tyke inside and wonders what it would be like if your DNA and his got squished into a little human, but he lets it go. As he tells himself: “Mars ain’t the kinda place to raise a kid”, and neither is the Bunker or the life he leads. 

He finds comfort in small touches- fingers grazing over the backs of knuckles, hugs lingering a moment too long. He falls asleep now to the sound of your breath, the slowing, gentle rise and fall as you run around in dreamland beside him. The warmth you emit under the blankets is enough to sustain him through tomorrow and the next day, and he wonders how he survived all those years sleeping alone. 

He’ll never tell you that, though. 

He loves you deeply but he’ll never say the words. 

He’ll prove it to you in a thousand different ways. In tender kisses and dreamy smiles. In whispered secrets and unwavering trust. He’ll protect you with his last breath. Give up his very soul to make you happy. But don’t ask him to admit it. Don’t force him to say the words out loud. It’s too much for him to handle. He’s battled monsters since he was a child, saved the world more times than he can remember, but the idea that you might not love him back, say the words in return… It’s too much, too terrifying a thought for him to risk. So he’ll tell you in the little ways. The simple ways.

He’s rough but sweet. His hands are big but warm and gentle. He’s a killer. He’s a genius. He’s stubborn. He’s ridiculous. He’s unfunny. He’s adorable. He’s beautiful. He’s kind. He’s miraculous. He’s inspiring. He is a holy unnatural, amazingly flawed, perfectly damaged, horribly broken man.

He’s Dean Winchester. 

And you wouldn’t want him any other way. 

For @deanwinchesterswitch and all the true Dean Girls out there.

[prettypup188]

“Brunch After Thanksgiving”

(GIF by: @daniellarusso )

(Angst comfort, reverse comfort, bi Abby, fem reader, this is based off of S2Ep1, texting format as well, mentions of smoking and plus an impromptu sleepover, plus MCDONALDS!!😽)

(Abby’s pov:)

I stood in front of Maxine’s door nervously biting my lower lip, hearing voices inside. Mrs. Baker opening the door with a confused look, “Abby? Maxine didn’t mention you were coming over for brunch.”, I gave a small smile holding up my tray of pizza bagels, “Came to surprise her.”, Mrs. Baker stepped aside and let me in closing the door behind her as she led me to the living room, “Maxine, Abby’s here.”, I looked to see Max and Nora standing by the island table with with shocked faces. “Hey. I brought pizza bagels.”, I said nervously, Maxine gasped immediately going off on me, “No,what the hell you can’t just come in here and act like everything’s fine after such betrayal.”, I lowered the tray pulling at my sleeve feeling my chest tighten, “I-I’m sorry, max-“, she shook her heard, “Get out, your not a friend of mine.”, my eyes widened looking at Nora for help, she only flashed a sympathetic/sorry smile.

I turned quickly walking out of the home, getting in my car. I felt my breaths quicken and tears spill to the corner of my eyes as I pulled out my phone:

ABBY 🖤🙄 :

Y/n, are you busy

Y/n 🫶🏾😽:

No I’m not abs, You good?

ABBY 🖤🙄:

Can I come over? I need you rn

Y/n🫶🏾😽:

Things didn’t go well with max?

Abby🖤🙄:

Yea…

Y/n🫶🏾🙄:

Yeah, come over my parents aren’t home they went to a town hall meeting

Abby🖤🙄:

K.

(Your pov:)

The doorbell rang, I opened the door seeing Abby standing in front of me. The cool breeze passing by me, I sighed softly stretching out my arms, “Abby.”, she hugged me tightly I could feel her body shiver, gripping me tighter as if I’d slip away. “Thanks, for letting me come over.”, she murmured softly I gave a small smile, “Anytime, come on in I don’t want you to get a cold.”, I let her in as she took off her coat. “Come on, we can go to my room.”, we headed upstairs.

Later

(Your POV:)

Abby and I laid across the bed, as she explained what transpired at Max’s house, “See, she hates me, y/n!”, Abby shouted annoyed. “She’s just in her feelings. You don’t need them anyway, how about we make her regret turning you away.”, I said with a slight smirk, Abby smiled mischievously, “Hell yeah.”, I stood up grabbing my phone and plopping down next to her on the floor, holding up my phone. “Come closer.”, I said as I puckered my lips seeing Abby smiled, we took a few funny pictures, “We should post these. These’ll make her have a frickin meltdown.”, she said as she scrolled through the pictures, I giggled going towards my closet before turning around. “The night’s only starting.”, I said as I revealed the small purple bong and a lighter, Abby’s eyes lit up. I sat next to her handing her to bong as she prepped it while I scrolled to find a movie, settling on Legally Blonde. “Have you talk to Ginny lately? Heard she kind of ran away.”, i said focused on the tv.

(Abby’s POV:)

I blew a breath of smoke, groaning looking at y/n. “I saw her across the street, guess she’s fine I don’t know she’s a bitchhhh.”, I said lowly in a pissed off tone, y/n smiled at me, “Gimme.”, she said, taking a long drawl, “Sooo, what now.”, y/n said resting the bong next to me. Before I could tell me my stomach told on me a low growl making y/n stifle a laugh, “You sound like you got the munchies.”, y/n offered, I nodded, “I just want a greasy burgerrrr.”, she grabbed her phone, “Your lucky I love you..and that my parents pay for my uber eats.”, “fuck yes!”. We ordered McDonald’s and watched the movie while we waited.

Ding dong

(Your pov)

I went downstairs, feeling fuzzy as I grappled against the railing, opening the door to find a bag of food left. It smelled like greasy heaven, I grabbed the bag and headed back upstairs, to find Abby hanging upside down off the end of the bed playing a game on her phone, giggling. “Food is here.”, Abby gasped happily as she sat up, we started eating, i watched as Abby practically made love to the cheeseburger in front of her, “This is so fucking good.”, I smiled stuffing a mouth full of fries down my throat, “look up, Abs.”, I said as I pulled out my phone to snap a pic of her, “You look adorable.”; she rolled her eyes, “Gross.”, I pouted, “You do,though.”, she eyed me slightly as she finished her last bites, “Not as pretty as you.”, I smiled softly feeling heat come to my cheeks, I couldn’t tell if that was just the buzz or my feelings bubbling to the surface but I quickly shut it down as I ate my nuggets. We finished up and cleaned up, getting ready for bed, “Thank you for this,y/n.”, Abby said softly facing me. “Always, Abs. I don’t like seeing my prettiest friend cry over mean girls.”, even under the string lights of my room illuminating the room I could see her blush slightly as a smile spread across her lips. “Thanks.”

A few days later

(Texts between Maxine and Norah)

Max💅👹: DID YOU SEE Y/N AND ABBY’S POST ON INSTA?!

Norah💗🥰: yeah…

Max:💅👹: ugh, I can’t believe she made y/n my new arch nemesis

Norah💗🥰: okay, but you gotta admit there was totally sexual tension between the two👀

Max💅👹: 10000%

[wokeupinmars]

The End of Beginning

Pairing: Sierra Six / Court Gentry x Reader

Summary: Six is forced to face his feelings as he struggles to make amends with you after lashing out.

Warnings: Angst with fluff. Flashbacks/memories are italicized. The backstory of what originally made Six and Reader fall out. Claire trying to be Six's wingwoman (she just wants her parental figures to be together). A bad date(?) and Six groveling.

Word Count: 3.6K

Author's Note: Thank you to @elusivewildflower for allowing me to essentially lose my mind in her inbox over planning this. I really appreciate it <33

I also might change the same of this part. My heart is fully set on this title but we’ll see if I come up with something better! (Edit: Title has been updated from Laying Down Roots to The End of Beginning).

This is the third part of the series.

Part One: The Pretty Nurse Who Lives Down the Hall

Part Two: “I’ll go wherever you go”

Please comment and/or reblog if you enjoyed this!!

RG Masterlist

A thin layer of sweat coats Six’s forehead as he sets down the last of the boxes and grumbles, “Your apartment was so small, how the hell did you manage to cram so much shit in there?” You roll your eyes at him, “I’m hearing a lot of complaining from a man who insisted that we didn’t need to hire movers because “I could do it myself.”  

The sound of Claire’s laugh echoes through the kitchen, earning a frown from Six. “You’re supposed to be on my side kid,” he huffs out. “You’ll live.”  

You handed him a cold bottle of water. “What do you guys want to order tonight?” It’s like you can see the gears turning in Claire’s head, “Can we get pizza?”  

“Sure thing, Sweetheart. Six?” You watch as he nods his head in agreement and uncaps the water bottle. The plastic crinkles and crunches in his hold as he downs about half of it in big gulps. You nod in response and turn your attention to the set of boxes he had brought in. You pick the top one off and drag the blade of your box cutter across the taped seams.  

The remaining afternoon consisted of the three of you unpacking as many boxes as possible and reassembling furniture from your previous apartments. It was until the grumble of Claire’s stomach made its presence known that you all called it a night.  

You didn’t think the first night in the new place would be spent in a misshapen circle with two pizza boxes in the center, but you couldn’t say you were mad at it. “This is really nice,” Claire voices as she reaches for another slice.  

Six lets out a little hum while you just smile and allow the room to fall silent. He found himself just looking at you, noting how your smile didn’t reach your eyes. This was the kind of quiet that Six usually reveled in, but tonight he felt uneasy. You were doing such a good job at pretending everything between the two of you. Several days had passed since your fight and the guilt of the situation was still eating away at him.  

It kept replaying in his head, the panic he felt waking up and realizing Claire was gone, only to have the two of you walk in through the apartment door with a box featuring the logo of a local bakery. He remembers the smile on your face and how quickly it faded once he opened his mouth.

— 

“Why would you take her without telling me?” His voice was booming as he snapped at you. At that moment he hadn’t registered what you were saying to him. He remembers seeing your mouth moving, but the ringing in his ears prevented him from listening. “I’m not doing this playing house bullshit with you! I didn’t want it then and I don't want it now! You aren’t our family and Claire isn’t your kid. You had no right to take her anywhere without asking me!”  

The sound of Claire yelling his name was what finally got him to stop laying into you. The sight of your face was burnt into his memory. You just looked so…sad. Your eyes had glossed over and the second you made eye contact you averted your gaze. It was eerily quiet until your phone buzzed. You glanced at the screen and then mumbled a quiet, “Got to go.” You left, giving Claire a kiss on the head on your way out.  

Six felt awful as the realization of what he did finally sank in and the pit in his stomach only deepened when Claire anger seeped through. “Why would you say that!?” He’d never heard her raise her voice until now. “How could you do that? You know I’m safe with her.” 

His voice softens as he speaks to her, “You left without telling me. She’s the adult in this situation; she shouldn’t have taken you anywhere without my permission.”

“It was a surprise!” Claire exclaims.  

“A surprise for what?”  

There’s a visible slump in her shoulders as she opens the bakery box to show him the frosted cake with the words ‘Home Sweet Home’ written in icing. “The closing date got moved up by a few days. She closed yesterday afternoon.”  

He just stares at the dessert. “And I guess it doesn’t matter to you, but I see her as family. Closest thing to a mom I’ve had in a long time. You didn’t need to make her feel like an outsider,” Claire added.  

Six knew he needed to apologize and with the help of Claire, they came up with a way to do so.  

It was close to midnight when you got back to the apartment. Claire had spent the evening with her eye pressed against the peep hole waiting to see you pass by. They were both expecting you to knock on the door just to pop in and wish Claire a goodnight like you usually did on nights you worked late. He could hear the conversation unfold, being the two of you, as he made sure everything was set perfectly at the table. He could hear your comment about Claire's get up as she was sporting one of Six’s blazers with a mustache drawn on her face, “Please tell me that’s not permanent marker.”  

“It’s dry erase,” she assured before slipping into an awful French accent, “Please follow me this way mademoiselle.” She steps aside and opens the door wider to let you in. “Claire, it’s late. I just want to go to bed. Speaking of which, why aren’t you in bed.” 

“Six let me stay up and if you come inside, you’ll be able to see why,” she attempts to use your curiosity as a way to get you into the apartment.  

“Sweet–” You stopped, in the moment he wasn’t sure why, but he later learned from Claire that she had given you her best puppy dog eyes. He listened to the heavy sigh you let out “What happened to the accent?”  

“It just wasn’t me.”  

Six stood tall by the kitchen table as you entered with his hand clasped together in front. He watched Claire nudge you and you take the hint to go and sit down. He could feel your eyes on his hand, you had noticed the subtle way he fidgeted with his watch which prompted him to stop. He waited for you to set your bag down and sit before taking his seat across from you.  

Claire approached the table handing the both of you a sheet of paper. “Welcome to Claire’s.” 

Your eyes scan the paper. At the very top the word ‘menu’ was written in big bold lettering. The paper was divided into three sections; entrees, dessert, and drinks. The only thing listed under entree was ‘lasagna,’ under dessert was ‘cake’ and ‘cookies (burnt)’ with a frowny face beside it. Drinks were simple with the only option being water. It was obvious to him that you knew Claire had a hand in this and didn’t want her efforts to be wasted, so you played along. “So many options, I don't know how we’ll be able to choose.” 

A smile starts to stretch across her face, but she composes herself, “Take your time.”  

The unmistakable sound of foil wrap crumpling fills the apartment. Claire passes the kitchen table with two plates in hand both containing a slice of lasagna, “Don’t mind me,” she chirps as she puts one of the plates in the microwave.  

Your knee bounced as you avoided Six’s gaze. Claire breaks the silence, “How come your home so late? Did you work overtime?”  

“Oh uh, no. Dropped by the house to clean a little before we start moving our stuff in.”  

“Should’ve called us. We would’ve helped,” He speaks up. It was the first thing he’s said since you got here. You shake your head and dismiss him, “Wasn’t necessary.”  

The microwave beeps and Claire sets the first plate in front of you before returning to her spot by the counter to heat the second plate. You pick up your fork and poke at the food. It doesn’t take long for Claire to repeat her steps, this time placing the plate in front of him. She walks away once more but returns less than a minute later with two glasses of water. You thank her and she nods, turning her attention to him and not so quietly whispers “Do not mess this up for us.”  

You watch as she makes her exit into the living room. “So…” you begin, “What was that about?”  

“She’s worried that I fucked everything up and you’ll leave without taking us with you.” 

“I wouldn’t do that.”  

“I know.”  

He notices your focus shift and he follows your gaze to the poster board taped to the fridge with a drawing of the Eiffel tower on it. “I assume this was all her idea?” 

“Making you dinner was my idea but after you didn’t get back at your usual time and we burnt the cookies Claire took some…creative liberties.”  

“I can see that…you told her about Paris or was this just a Paris is the city of love kind of situation?”  

“The latter. I think disclosing anything that happened between us in Paris would scar her for life.” It was his attempt at lightening the mood and in any other instance he was certain you would’ve cracked a smile. Tonight, however, you just nod.  

“I’m sorry.”  

You only hum in acknowledgement, “You don’t have to save face. I won’t stop you from moving in with me or anything like that.”  

He felt sick. Did you honestly not believe he was being sincere? “I’m serious. I should have never lashed out at you like that. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” your voice quiet as you speak, “You were right. You and Claire aren’t my family–” 

He cuts you off, “We are a family.” His words hang in the air for a moment before he continues talking, “At least I want us to be. I panicked when I woke up and Claire wasn’t here. I got frustrated and it…” He was trying to find the right words. He had never been one for feelings, and it seems that this painful lesson that he’d been teaching you again and again. “I didn’t mean it,” are the words he settles on. “I didn’t mean what I said.” 

You shook your head, “I overstepped. I’m sorry.”  

“You don’t have to apologize. I was being an asshole to you.” 

“Six–”  

“Court,’ he corrects. “I only ever want to be Court with you.”  

“I should get going. Thank you for going through the trouble of cooking for me. We can tackle the logistics of moving in the morning.” He doesn’t stop you when you get up and sling your bag back over your shoulder. You were visibly tired, and he knew pressing the issue had only exhausted you more.  

Claire’s head popped up from behind the couch when she heard the chair scrape against the floor. “You’re leaving?” 

“Yeah, sweetheart. Have a good night. I’ll be over in the morning.”  

She bids you a goodnight as you open their door to go. He follows close behind you, but you stop him, “You don’t have to walk me back.” You don’t give him the chance to object as we're already walking down the hall. He stands at the door with the tiniest bit of hope you’d look back at him.  

You don’t.  

“So…I’m guessing you guys still aren’t okay.” 

He brushes off her question. It was more than clear where his relationship with you stood. “It’s late, kid. Go get some sleep.”

Claire ignores him and starts to take down the poster, “I really thought Paris would work. I mean she has a mini-Eiffel tower keychain.”

— 

He didn’t know how to make it better.  

The few days that had passed with you keeping your distance and only speaking to him when you felt necessary left a lot of time for him to do the one thing he was dreading; processing his feelings.  

It was clear to him that he was starting to slip; to relax. It was a feeling he’d been anticipating since the night you spoke at the table. He had been trying his best to ignore the familiar feeling that arose in his chest every time you were near. He knew there was no use, you always had this effect on him. He just thought he had a little more time before the fuzzy feeling started to consume him.  

But now…now he was living with you. Sure, you were spending the majority of your time with each other before, but this was different. You’d be evading his senses completely now. Everything he was feeling was shifting into hyper speed and the worst part was, there was no way for him to stop it.  

A part of him believes that's why he snapped at you the way he did. A form of self-sabotage to ruin the bridge that you’d both be working to mend. It wouldn’t be the first time he did something like that to you.  

Claire picks up on his gaze and puts down the slice, “You know…I’m actually really tired. I think I’m going to call it a night.” You squint your eyes at her sudden declaration, “You sure? You never really go to bed this early.” She lets out a yawn and stretches her arms over her head, “Yeah, all this unpacking has been...” Another yawn prevents her from finishing her sentence.  

You nod despite being able to tell she was lying. If her exaggerated movement didn’t give it away, it was the skeptical look on Six’s face. You stand up and reach for the pizza boxes, “Are you also done eating?”  

“Yeah,” he murmurs.  

You take the boxes and head into the kitchen. Claire waits till you're out of sight before she starts whispering, “Talk to her. I’ll go to bed, and you guys and talk and make up.” 

“Claire, she doesn’t want to talk to me.”  

She crosses her arms, “That’s why you'll talk, and we hope she listens. It sucks that you guys are being so weird. I miss when you’d stare at her when she’s not looking, and it wasn’t sad.”  

“I don’t stare–” 

“Yes, you do. All the time. Everyday.” Claire leans back and tries to get a glimpse of you through the doorway wrapping the leftover slices in foil wrap. “Just try. Please. I miss how we were before and it’s obvious you do too.” She doesn’t wait for him to address what she said, instead she gets up and heads into her new room. 

It takes a few minutes for him to work up the nerve to talk to speak to you but once he does, he enters the kitchen in search of you. Except you're not there. He makes his way down the hall to the main bedroom; the door was open a bit, but he still knocks. “Come in.”  

You were kneeling on the floor looking through some of the smaller boxes. You spare him a glance before returning your attention to the box in front of you. He sits down beside you, his shoulder knocking into yours. He opens his mouth to talk but his voice gets caught in his throat once his eyes land on the box's contents. Keychains, a few knickknacks, and a photobooth strip.  

He recognized everything in the box. Keychains and trinkets from every place the two of you had met up in over the years. He used to poke fun at you for insisting that you had to pick up something each time but now he’s glad you did. He picks up the photo strip. He knew exactly where it was from. A mission had gone sideways, and he had been laying low in London. He ended up calling you on his second day there from a burner phone. You were between jobs and being the lover you were, joined him. The pictures were taken two weeks into his stay there; you had convinced him to venture out into the city with you after the food supply in the safe house began running low. On your outing, the two of you passed a photo booth at the entrance of a cafe. You dragged him into it. He remembers arguing with you, emphasizing how reckless it was for him to be seen let alone have his photo taken. You simply told him to suck it up and that it would be safe in your possession. 

The first photo was simply, you perched on his lap, your lips curved into a smile and his chin resting on your shoulder. There was the smallest trace of a smile on his face, one that grew bigger in the next photo. The second picture was a little blurry, you both had the idea to kiss the other on the cheek and it ended with you bumping noses. The countdown ended and captured you giggling and him grinning at you. The third photo was of you cupping his face and kissing him. The fourth and final photo was nearly identical, with the expectation of him leaning into you. This photo was the only tangible evidence of your previous relationship, another version of him and you, a happier version.

“The day we moved in wasn’t the first time I saw you after we stopped talking.” It was a confession you weren’t expecting. You weren’t facing him, but he could see your eyebrows knit together. “I saw you in London a year after we stopped talking. Fitz managed to set me up at a decent hotel for a night and I saw you. Barely caught a glimpse of you going into your room. I smelt you first. Your perfume was lingering in the elevator. Thought it was some sort of punishment for letting you slip through my fingers. But…but then I saw you.”  

He shifts his gaze back to the photo, “I ended up standing in front of your door for a few minutes before leaving. I wanted to talk but I just froze. You were right there. All I had to do was knock.” A dry laugh escapes his lips, “I couldn’t justify talking to you. You thought I didn’t love you; I made you think I didn’t love you. I hurt you so much. I didn’t deserve to talk to you then, I don’t deserve for you to be so welcoming to me now, not after I made a mess of us.”  

His voice is hushed, you can hear the small crack as he bears his heart. “I’m so sorry,” he comes out in huff. “For everything. I’m sorry for what I said and how things ended. I would take it all back if I could…I’d give anything to go back to that night in Havana.” 

That night in Havana was the last time you saw him before he moved in down the hall. It was a night that remained hazy in your memory. Now years removed from it, you almost found it humorous how an absentminded inquiry had crushed the delicate little fantasy you conjured up in your head.  

“Have you ever thought about leaving the CIA?” It was pillow talk. You didn’t think it would snowball the way it did. “Why would I do that?” That response alone should’ve been enough for you to move on to a different topic, but you didn’t. “You’ve never thought what it would be like? The thought of leaving this all behind and living in some coastal town somewhere never crossed your mind?”  

“Has it crossed yours?” Answering a question with a question, you expected nothing less from him.  

“It has.”  

Your memory gets fuzzy from there, you remember him asking about, “Yeah? Tell me about it?” But you failed to remember the tone in which he said it. It was more than likely he was being sarcastic, but you were too sleepy to notice, so you answered. “I think since we both have money stashed; we could easily pool it and get a little house somewhere. Just us…maybe a cat…maybe more. It would be a boring and peaceful life but it’s a life I’d like to live with you.”  

“We?”  

“Yeah.” 

“I would never want that.” 

You know your drowsy state has warped your memory of the night, but his response felt instantaneous. “Oh”  

“That’s the kind of life you live with someone you love. That’s not us”  

“Oh.”  

You’ve suppressed everything that unfolded after that, but you knew that you two fought and it ended with you waving your white flag and leaving early the next morning.  

“I wish I didn’t let you leave,” his voice draws you out of your head. “I wanted that life; I just didn’t think that it was a life I could have or deserved.” He puts the photo back in the box, “I think I’m always going to wonder about what would’ve happened if I was honest.”  

The room falls silent. The weight of his admission weighs heavy on both your head and heart. You close the box and push it under the bed. Your knee knocks against his as you change into a crisscrossed position.  

“I’d like to think we would have been happy,” you whisper. 

“I think we would’ve been.”  

You started picking at the skin of your nails, unsure of what to say. His hand reaches over and stops you digging into your cuticles any further. “I think we’re living a version of that life now,” he divulges. His thumb rubs circles against the back of your hand. “Might not have a cat but if you were willing to...I’d like another chance to do things right; to make you happy.” 

You lay your head on his shoulder and quietly say, “I’d like that, Court.” 

[livfastdieyoung69]

(the girl across the street pt.2)

January sucks. Everyone and their damn mothers does their dumb New Year’s Resolutions, and decides they want to lose weight. In turn, no one eats out, and every restaurant you could possibly think of gets no business. Dead, completely empty. Including The Beef.

Mikey had taken to the office to pretend to do paperwork, but after a couple games of Candy Crush, he’d grown bored again. With a big sigh, he pulled himself out of the chair in the way every man who’s either above 30 or works too much does. The office door opens, and the rest of the staff are sitting around, grumbling and staring at the clock. There wasn’t even anything left to clean, The Beef hadn’t been this spotless since last January.

Mikey mumbles, goin’ for a smoke, while he leaves, just loud enough so that hopefully someone caught it. Wasn’t like they’d need him anyways, but he heard at least one grumble of acknowledgment before the door closed behind him.

He took his usual spot, on the milk crates stacked up right on the corner- it let you see down the creepy alley behind every restaurant on this side of the street, and down the even creepier alley just between The Beef and its neighboring building that led towards the road.

He should’ve wore a coat, but the breeze was sorta nice and it wasn’t snowing anymore. A lot nicer than sitting inside the office, he always got a headache if he stayed in there for two long (that was probably the mold in the ceiling). The silence was nice too, calming for the usual rush hours.

A whistle, sharp and high-pitched, but quiet in the pushing wind travels to Mikey’s ears. He perks up in his seat- looking down creepy alley one, to find nothing. Another whistle, telling him, practically speaking to him, in her silky, smooth voice and he can picture her little smirk while it whispers from her lips- wrong way.

He stands, tries to hide the grin that grows on his face by holding his head downwards as he starts walking towards her silhouette. She’s leaning against the light pole right in front of the pizza place, a cigarette in her hand too. Mikey remembers the one in his hand at the sight of hers, and has to drop it in the middle of the road before it burns him.

She just stares at him while he approaches- taking a drag and letting the smoke flow from her teeth. He wouldn’t have noticed the small black piece in her ear, but something was playing loud enough that it just sounded like muffled drums to him. She takes Mikey in, looking up and down while offering the cigarette.

Little cold for no coat, hm? God, she fucking kills him. Her and that playful little tone, it kills him. He shrugged, handing the cigarette back. Wasn’t very often he found himself speechless, but here she had him, with no words. Silence comes by again, and they listen to the wind while it passes along. Wanna pizza? She could see he was pretending like he wasn’t cold, and had nothing better to do than bring him inside.

Mikey follows her back to the pizza place, and watches as she grabs a dough from the fridge, coating it in flour and tossing it around. She lets him pick the toppings and he asks if she owns the place. Hell no, she scoffs, but family does.

While the pizza cooks she sits on the metal culinary table, and Mikey wags a finger at her and tells her, thats unsanitary, ma’am, with his big grin. She scoffs at him, yeah, okay, and pushes his shoulder just a little, and tells him how she just saw Richie standing on the front counter yesterday. She hops off anyways, and stands hip to hip with him instead.

They stay in the back when it’s done, and eat it on an unfolded pizza box off of the metal table she’d been sitting on earlier. Mikey teases, and pretends to write her a bad review, and she shoves his shoulder again and walks off with the promises of a soda.

She comes back with a bottle, liquid swinging in its plastic while she sways to the song that started playing over the radio while she was gone. His grin grows when he notices she’s humming the guitar solo under her breath.

“Got some skills, there.” He tries his hand at teasing, but she just keeps going, and her humming turns into lip syncing, and suddenly she’s dancing over in front of him. He’s laughing, and now she’s singing, and taking his hands in hers, and leaning back so he has no choice but to steady her with a hand to the hips and the other splaying across her lower back.

If she don’t get her way, she’ll slice you apart,she grins, a finger pulling him closer by the shirt, moves like a cat, her shoulders shimmy just a little and her feet shuffle, taking him with her until her backs to the other counter feet away, if you don’t get her game, you might not make it back.

Mikey finds himself speechless again, and hopes to god no one sees what this women does to him. He knows one thing though, that song was sure as hell made for her.

She’s got the looks that kill, she finally finishes with the song, swaying back over to her seat, and he can’t find anything else in himself to do but shake his head and finish his slice.

An hour later he opens the back door to The Beef back up, trying to contain his grin, and hiding the leftover plastic wrapped pizza under his shirt. Before he can run back into the office, Richie is glaring at him, arms crossed like a scored mother.

She’s got you bad man. He shakes his head before Mikey can even defend himself. Bad.

[gyustarzzi]

ateez react to you telling them 'I love you' for the first time

★ hongjoong

- hongjoong made a song for you - hongjoong had brought you into the studio and told you he had a surprise for you - as you listened to the song you couldn't help but think about how amazing it is to have hongjoong - when the song finishes you say I love you, making hongjoong freeze and replay it in his head - would hug you and kiss you saying I love you back

" I love you too Y/N "

☆ seonghwa

- you and seonghwa were coming home from a party (you were drunk) - when you got home seonghwa lead you upstairs and helped you change into something more comfortable - before you guys went to bed you guys decided to watch a movie and cuddle for the rest of the night - as you were about to fall asleep you kissed seonghwa's cheek, whispering in his ear " I love you hwa " - blushes, kisses your forehead and would say it back

" Your so cute when your drunk "

★ yunho

- yunho was staying at your place tonight - you had invited yunho over to spend the night at your place and made dinner for the both of you - at the end of the day you and yunho were having a tickling fight - as yunho was tickling you and laughing at your squeals he stopped looking at you lovingly, and then you blurt out the words "I love you" - blushes hard and lays on top of you whispering I love you back

" You really didn't have to make dinner, we could have just ordered pizza "

☆ yeosang

- you were sick and yeosang was taking care of you - one of your friends was sick and basically passed the sickness to you - while you were eating one of yeosangs meals he made you, you got the shivers - yeosang saw this and instantly grabbed a thick and soft sweater for you, putting it on you - in grattitude you say "I love you yeo" and yeosang turns into jello

" I love you too, now eat the foods getting cold "

★ san

- you were playing video games with san - you and san were on a team against mingi and wooyoung - while you guys were playing you were shot and died leaving only san able to win for you guys - suddenly san shoots both mingi and wooyoung making you jump up screaming "I love you" - would be shocked at first bc he's never heard you say that but shrugs it off

" Yes!!! Let's go!! "

☆ mingi

- you and mingi were walking at night hand in hand - as you were walking mingi was telling you about his day, you listening attentively - you couldn't help but stare at his features, his smile, his acne, his eyes, etc. - "i love you", you say mingi stopping his tracks to stare you dead in the eye - he smiles at you before enveloping you in a hug whispering "i love you too Y/N"

" What? You love me? "

★ wooyoung

- wooyoung would probably be the first to say  I love you first - you decided to surprise wooyoung with a 7 month anniversary gift - you cooked dinner, set up a fort, picked all your favorite movies and games - when wooyoung opened the door he was shocked, dropping his stuff and making his way over to you, bringing you in embrace and whispering i love you - you'd giggle kissing him, saying "I love you too"

" Wow..you did all of this? "

☆ jongho

- you were rambling to jongho about your problems - you were having the worst month and jongho noticed how badly stressed and sad you were, so he asked you what was wrong - as you were crying, you had said something bad about yourself, jongho grabbing your face before kissing you - he would tell you how you are none of those things that you say you are and that he loves you - you would feel stupid, hugging him and say that you love him as well

" You aren't a burden Y/N! You are just having a bad time and need to vent and that's okay. I love you Y/N "