#and only after a while I had a realization of WAIT NO

[syrecjh]

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆🪐⋆Say That When You’re Sober

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ || katsuki bakugo x reader

(A request)

You and Katsuki Bakugo were never the kind of exes who left wreckage in their wake. No screaming matches. No torn photographs. Just the slow unraveling of something once soft and bright, now threadbare with time and circumstance. You parted ways like grown-ups—if not lovers, still comrades. Still… something. You kept the tenderness folded quietly between your ribcages, like a secret both of you respected.

It wasn’t a dramatic goodbye, just a quiet one. Work got in the way. The pressure did, too. He had his hero duties, you had your path, and somewhere between the missed dinners and unspoken wants, you both realized the timing was wrong—even if the feelings weren’t.

But the strangest part?

You never stopped being kind to each other.

Even after the breakup, you’d still like each other’s posts—subtly, sparingly, but always. He’d comment a dry “Tch. Lame.” on a photo of your beach trip and then send you a fire emoji right after. You’d heart his training clips and smile at the way he still wore the hoodie you once forgot at his place. At gatherings, the BakuSquad teased in cautious whispers but never pushed. They knew this was delicate—what stood between you and him. Not glass, but memory. Not broken, just… unfinished.

So when you saw him at the bar that night, alone and slouched over a half-empty glass, you hesitated.

The place was humming with bass and laughter, but he looked like he was elsewhere entirely—lost somewhere between the rim of his drink and whatever thoughts were spinning in his head. His neck and cheeks were flushed a warm pink, telltale signs of how much he’d had. His gaze flicked lazily to yours when he saw you, eyes widening only slightly, as if unsure if you were real or the start of a dream.

“Bakugo?” you asked, cautious.

He blinked at you. “...Hey.”

You sat beside him, carefully. “You with someone?”

He shook his head. “Nah. Just me.”

You raised a brow. “You’re wasted.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You called the bartender your mom two minutes ago.”

“Tch.” He smirked. “Shut up.”

You sighed, already pulling out your phone. “Kiri?”

“Outta the country,” he mumbled.

So you drove him home.

You buckled him in while he muttered about your driving being too slow, too careful. You ignored the way your hands trembled a bit as they brushed his. And when you helped him up the steps to his place, still steadying him as he swayed, he leaned against the doorframe and stared at you like you were the only thing he could see clearly.

“I still love you,” he said suddenly, voice rough, low, and drunk-soft. “I want you back.”

You froze.

His pupils were hazy. His words, even slurred, felt too close to truth. Too dangerous.

“You’re drunk,” you managed.

“I know what I feel, dumbass.”

You gave him a sad smile then, something halfway between aching and armor. “Say that when you’re sober.”

He stared at you like he wanted to—like he might—but the weight of alcohol and unsaid things dragged him down. You left him at his door, heart thudding behind your ribs like it had somewhere to be.

The next morning, you tried not to think about it. You tried.

Until your phone buzzed.

Bakugo:

> You told me to say it when I’m sober.

> So I’m saying it now.

> Come meet me.

> Remember the cafe we used to go to?

> I’m here. I’ll wait.

You stared at the screen. The text wasn’t long. It wasn’t flowery. It was him. Steady. Straightforward. Sure.

And suddenly, your hands shook again.

There was a time you thought Bakugo could never say the right thing. That he’d never be soft enough, never reach first. But now, here he was—coffee shop open, heart in hand, telling you he’s ready.

Maybe he always was. Maybe you were, too.

So you grabbed your keys.

Because not all broken things are meant to stay shattered.

Some just need to be held together again—

sober.

and finally,

sure.

[rafesyangel]

Rafe getting JJs lil sister pregnant and she comes to him after her dad got physical terrified that something would happen to the baby and he comforts her?

What happens when you show up at rafes doorsteep trembling and crying?

It was dark when you showed up to Rafe’s door.

Your hands were shaking. You couldn’t tell if it was from the bruising ache in your ribs or the storm of panic spiraling through your chest. The hoodie you wore clung to your body, soaked with rain, and your stomach—his baby—was cramping faintly from the stress. You didn't even realize you were crying until you caught your reflection in the glass of the door. Red eyes. Pale lips. Terrified.

You barely had time to knock before the door yanked open like someone had been waiting on the other side.

Rafe He looked half-crazed when he saw you. Eyes wild, shirtless, a mess, But the second he saw the way you were hunched over, arms wrapped protectively over your stomach, his expression dropped. Dead serious. Dangerous.

“What the fuck happened?”

You couldn’t speak. You just shook your head, trying to form words as your breath trembled. Finally, you choked out, “My dad… he got mad when I told him. He shoved me.”

Rafe didn’t move for a second. Just stared.

Then his jaw locked, and a slow breath left his nose.

“Get inside.”

It wasn’t a question.

You did as he said, stepping past him into the dark warmth of his house. As soon as the door shut, Rafe was in front of you again, pressing you gently back against the wall, inspecting your face, your arms, your stomach. His hands slid beneath your hoodie before you could flinch. You gasped softly—but his touch was careful, his brows furrowed in pure focus.

“He touched you while you’re carrying my baby*?” he asked quietly, his voice lethal. “You’re bleeding?”

You shook your head quickly. “N-No. Just cramping. I—I came here because I didn’t know where else to go. I was scared.”

“Shh.” He cupped your face, tilting it up. His thumbs gently wiped away the rain and tears from your cheeks. “You did the right thing, baby. You come to me. Always.”

You nodded. But your eyes were still wide with panic. “Rafe… what if something happened to it?”

He leaned in close, pressing his forehead to yours, voice like fire. “Don’t even say that.”

The possessiveness clicked in his eyes like a switch. His hand slid back down to your lower stomach, palm splayed across it like he was claiming it, like he needed to remind himself it was real

“That’s mine,” he growled, voice low and dark. “You are mine. That baby is mine. And no one absolutely no one lays a finger on what belongs to me and walks away breathing.”

He was pacing now. Jaw tight, chest heaving. You could see how close he was to snapping.

“Rafe, please—don’t do anything crazy.”

He stopped, turned slowly, and walked back over to you. His hands came to either side of your face again. “Too late for that, sweetheart. You think Im planning on letting you go since the second I got you pregnant?”

You swallowed hard. Your back hit the wall again as he leaned in.

“I’ve been losing my mind ever since I found out you were carrying me in you,” he whispered. “I think about you every second. About what’s growing in there. About how no one else will ever touch you again, because you belong to me now.”

You gasped softly at the heat in his words, the intensity in his eyes. It wasn’t just protectiveness it was obsession.

“And if your dad put even a scratch on you,” he muttered, brushing your hair back, “he just signed his fucking death warrant.”

Rafe backed off only enough to grab his phone and a sweatshirt for you. Then he tossed a blanket over your shoulders and led you to the couch.

“Lay down. I’m calling a doctor. I don’t care if it’s midnight.”

You blinked at him. “I’m okay—”

“I’ll decide that,” he cut you off firmly. “You're not gonna lift a damn finger until I say so. You don’t cook, you don’t clean, you don’t move unless I tell you it’s safe.”

“Rafe…”

He knelt down in front of you, both hands resting on your thighs. “You gave me a piece of you, baby. I’m gonna protect that with my life. You’re my family now. “

And the scariest part? You believed him.

You never felt safer

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

[🤍] helloo!! I saw that your request is open and I was wondering if you can write phainon x M!reader the reader is someone who has poker face most of the time and aren't really interested in anything sexual but are somewhat a REALLY good kisser, so imagine their first time when phainon initiate the act they just when "oh you want sex? Oh sure" feeling confident not knowing how sensitve and good they feel they'll be crying the moment phainon put it in

Im being delusional but I can't get it off my head 😔

OH, YOU WANT S☆X

★ tws : nsfw / smut, male!reader, first time, slight oversimulation, size kink ( mild & implied ), sub!male!reader, praise, dirty talk, aftercare, light marking ( hickeys) and missinoary position.

★ sum : Phainon finally gets you in bed after dancing around the tension for ages. You’re calm, cool, and unbothered—until he actually puts it in and suddenly you’re shaking, crying, and realizing you’ve made a huge mistake underestimating how good it would feel. And Phainon? He lives for watching your mask fall apart. minors do not interact : 18+ only.

★ note : not proofread, sorry or not. (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)

It started with a kiss.

Not your usual practiced ones—the calm, controlled touches that drove Phainon insane because you always pulled away with the same blank look, like nothing ever touched you. No. This kiss was different.

Your mouth opened wider. Slower. Hungrier. Like something in you was cracking open.

Phainon tasted that weakness. He tasted your inexperience under the arrogance. And he devoured it.

“Still sure you’re ready?” he murmured as he pressed you into the mattress, golden eyes narrowed, voice dipped low with amusement.

You nodded once, calm. “Yeah. You want sex, right? Let’s get it over with.”

Phainon blinked slowly. Then he grinned.

“Oh, sweetheart. That’s adorable.”

His hands slid down your bare thighs—slow, reverent—and spread them open. He’d already prepped you, made sure you were wet and relaxed, even though you claimed you didn’t need it. “Doesn’t matter,” he’d said, pressing a slick finger in while watching you pretend not to react. “I want to be gentle the first time I ruin you.”

And now—

He lined himself up, guiding his cock to your entrance. Thick, flushed, veined—he was long and hard and hot, and you hadn’t even looked at it until now.

“Wait—”

He caught it—your first break in tone.

“What?” he asked softly, lips brushing your jaw.

You inhaled through your nose, trying to keep still. “Nothing. Just… surprised.”

Phainon kissed your cheek. “I’ll go slow. Don’t worry, darling.”

And then he pushed in.

The first inch had you gasping.

By the second, your hands had curled into the sheets.

By the time he bottomed out—deep and thick inside you, his hips flush against yours—you weren’t breathing.

You blinked once. Then twice.

“…F-fuck—”

Phainon looked down, mouth slightly open at the sight of you: sprawled out beneath him, chest rising and falling too fast, your eyes flickering with something between shock and disbelief.

“You okay?” he whispered, voice velvet-smooth.

You gave a slow nod—but your throat worked as you swallowed hard.

“…I didn’t know it would feel this…” You trailed off, breathless. “…This intense.”

Phainon laughed, soft and dangerous. “You really thought you’d be unaffected? After all that smug little talk?”

You didn’t answer. Your poker face was slipping, fast. And when he moved—just a tiny roll of his hips—you let out a strangled noise that made his cock twitch deep inside you.

“Ohhh, gods—” you choked, eyes fluttering shut.

Your body clenched around him tight, so tight he had to grit his teeth just to stop from finishing right there. You were so warm, so fucking soft inside, and the little trembles in your thighs were enough to drive him mad.

“You’re crying,” he said softly, brushing his thumb under your eye.

“I’m not,” you whispered, voice cracking as a tear slipped down your temple.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Phainon cooed, rocking into you again, slower this time—deeper. “You are. You’re crying on my cock.”

You made a broken sound, high and raw in your throat, and clung to him.

“Please—please, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he said, kissing the corner of your mouth. “You can take all of it. You’re doing so good. So perfect for me.”

He fucked you in long, steady strokes, pushing deep with each thrust, making sure you felt every inch. The drag of him inside you was slow torture, your cock already leaking onto your stomach from the sheer pressure. You were panting now—head tipped back, neck exposed, mouth open and wrecked.

And Phainon watched you fall apart.

Every second of it.

“You’re beautiful like this,” he murmured, voice dark with desire. “All those emotions you hide—you look fucking gorgeous when you fall apart.”

You whimpered.

“You want to come?” he asked.

You nodded desperately, trying to speak but failing. All that calm was gone. All that chill, that control—it melted into raw desperation, your body trembling as you clawed at his back.

He leaned down, kissed your throat, sucked hard enough to leave a mark.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he whispered, fucking into you just right, hitting that spot with precision. “I want to feel you lose it.”

You cried out.

Your body tightened, eyes squeezing shut as you came—hot and messy between your bodies, untouched. You moaned so loud it echoed, and Phainon felt it. Felt your walls clench around him like a vice, dragging him toward his own orgasm.

He cursed, buried himself deep, and came inside you—hot, thick spurts that made your whole body shudder.

You were shaking.

Still crying a little. Not from pain. Just the sheer overwhelmingness of it all.

Phainon kissed you slowly, again and again, murmuring sweet nonsense as he wiped your face and stroked your hair.

“…Don’t tell anyone,” you croaked, voice wrecked and hoarse. “That I cried.”

He smiled against your cheek. “No one’ll hear it from me.”

A pause.

“…Unless they ask,” he added, smug.

You groaned into his chest.

He held you tighter. “You’re mine now.”

Your legs were shaking.

Your stomach, sticky with cum, rose and fell too fast. You were still clenching around him. Still fluttering, twitching, helpless—while Phainon stayed deep inside you, not moving, just watching.

Your eyes were glassy. Your cheeks flushed. There were faint hickeys blooming across your collarbone—his teeth had left them, somewhere between your first sob and your second orgasm.

You looked wrecked.

Beautifully so.

“…You’re still hard,” you said hoarsely, voice barely above a whisper.

Phainon leaned down, kissed your lips, slow and wet. “So are you.”

You shivered under him. “I can’t…”

“You can.” He smiled against your jaw. “I’m not done with you yet, pretty boy.”

You tried to sit up, but he grabbed your thighs and pushed them higher, folding you in half.

“Wait—!”

Too late.

He pulled out only to thrust back in with a deep, filthy squelch, and you screamed—a raw, high-pitched sound that echoed in the room.

“Sensitive,” he purred, hips grinding into yours. “You’re still clenching like you don’t want me to leave.”

You covered your face with your arm, too flustered to look at him. “F-fuck you.”

“Oh, baby,” Phainon said, dragging his cock out so slowly that you felt every inch stretch and press against your sensitive walls. “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

He started to move again, deeper this time. More intense.

His pace wasn’t brutal—but it was calculated. Every thrust angled perfectly to hit your prostate, to make you squirm, to make your poker-face collapse again and again with every wet slap of skin against skin.

You gasped with every stroke, your moans growing louder, messier, needier.

Your legs were trembling in his grip. Your cock twitched between your bodies again—already hardening from the overstimulation.

“See that?” Phainon whispered, licking a stripe along your jaw. “Didn’t even need to touch you. You’re dripping. You love being ruined.”

You whimpered, biting your lip.

He leaned closer, his golden eyes burning into yours. “Say it.”

“…Ngh—”

“Say it. Tell me you love this. Tell me you love how I make you cry.”

You tried to speak, but the moment he fucked into you harder, you broke.

“I—I l-love it,” you gasped, fingers digging into his back. “Feels s-so good—I can’t—I can’t take it—”

“Yes, you can,” he groaned, ramming into you harder now, chasing your next orgasm. “Take it like you were made for this.”

You were delirious—cockdrunk—panting, sweating, your mouth hanging open as tears streamed down your flushed cheeks. Phainon’s name fell from your lips like prayer and curse, over and over between cries and moans.

You came again—violently, your entire body spasming as thick ropes of cum spilled untouched from your twitching cock, staining both your stomach and his chest.

You were sobbing now, face buried in his neck, gasping for air. Your hole pulsed wildly around him, squeezing him so tight he had to bite his lip to keep from losing it instantly.

But he didn’t stop.

He slowed down—yes.

But he didn’t stop.

“I want it all,” he whispered, stroking your hair with one hand while the other stayed firm on your waist, fucking you through your aftershocks. “I want every moan. Every cry. You’ll remember this every time you sit down tomorrow.”

You let out a broken whine. “Y-you’re insane…”

He smirked, kissing your temple. “And you’re beautiful when you’re ruined.”

It wasn’t long before he came again, burying himself as deep as he could, groaning low and animalistic against your throat. You felt the hot gush of it inside—another load, thick and warm, filling you until you swore you’d overflow.

You were panting. Your thighs trembled. Your eyes refused to stay open. Phainon pulled out gently, stroking your thighs and kissing your hips as he went. You winced at the emptiness, your body twitching at the loss.

He cooed softly, “Shh, I’ve got you.”

He cleaned you up with gentle hands—warm cloth, slow swipes, featherlight kisses between each. You barely registered it, still dazed, sniffling softly from the tears you swore weren’t there.

He pulled you into his chest afterward, laying on his side, one hand running up and down your back in slow, soothing circles.

“…You okay?” he murmured into your hair.

You nodded. Then paused. “I think you broke my soul.”

He laughed. Loud, unfiltered. “You’re dramatic.” You glared weakly at him. “You made me cry.”

“You said you didn’t cry,” he teased, kissing your nose. “Turns out, I’m the exception.”

You buried your face in his chest. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Never.” A pause. “Unless they ask.”

“…I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

You didn’t.

And with Phainon’s arms wrapped around you and your body still trembling from bliss, you closed your eyes—finally letting yourself feel it all.

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

[lambiconic]

simon's finally got that date with the barista

if you havent, can i interest you in reading the first six: simon , gaz , johnny , price , the aftermath , the confrontation

(18+ you being angry at simon gets him the tiniest bit excited)

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

After cleaning up the coffee beans you’d spilled on the floor in anger, you finally felt calm enough to try to talk things out with the four men.

Unfortunately, while you’d been crashing out in the back room they had leaving behind just a test message:

“This is Simon. Talk later.”

Despite your previous anger you couldn’t help but smile, its really cute that he somehow texts exactly how he speaks. 

…

The men spent the better part of a week debating (honestly arguing) over how to even bring up the idea of… sharing you.

Though.. the longer they talked about it, the worse it sounded. Not because they didn’t want you. God, they did. So badly. 

But, well, asking the same woman they’d all but cornered in her place of work and interrogated like you’d been married for 20 years with 3 children if she’d be open to dating all of them?

“Feels a bit... predatory, yeah?” Price had said at one point, frowning as he paced with uncharacteristic nervousness. 

“We already ganged up on her once,” Gaz muttered. “Now we’re coming back to say ‘erm actually we’d like to take turns, thanks’? Bit dodgy.”

“We could ease her into it!” Johnny proposed, “One date each. Give her time to realize we’re all *cough* mostly me *cough* amazing.”

 “So your plan is emotional whiplash in four acts??”

Simon, of course, offered nothing besides something about how if you laughed them out of that café, not a single word would leave his lips for weeks on end. Still, none of them backed down.

They just had to figure out how to say “Would you consider going out with all of us?” without sounding like a cult.

Easy. Right?

They came to the conclusion that Johnny was right, they needed to take you out. Try to woo you! Hopefully, that would make up for their ambush as well.

But who would go first? 

Johnny concluded that because he was the only one who had actually asked you out on a date, he should be first!

But, no no, Price should go first! He was the most mature! You need a sexy, mature, older man to lead you into this.

Gaz didn’t care, he was convinced you’d fall for him the fastest no matter where he stood in line.

And Simon— wait where the hell is Simon?

Simon wasted no time slipping out of the room. He had somewhere to be. 

And, like clockwork, Simon showed up at noon on Tuesday. He didn’t say much, just leaned against the counter like always, watching you work in silence. But this time, you were silent too.

Not the calm, flirty kind that matched his silent he was used to. No. You were giving him the silent treatment.

And he definitely deserved it. And he kind of liked it.

Your narrowed eyes. The dramatic scoff when he handed you a full $50 bill for a tip instead of his usual $10. The way you didn’t even try to mask your irritation with your usual sweet smile.

It wasn’t your customer service charm… it was all you, properly pissed off.

And strangely? That made him feel closer to you. At least this meant he still mattered enough to you to be met with something real. 

And there was something about that slight look of disgust in your eyes that had heat pooling low in his stomach and him forced to drop a hand to his crotch in hopes no one could see his growing… problem.

“Can I…” he started quietly, just as you slid the cup across the counter. 

Unfortunately for him, you turned right back around. He cleared his throat, his eyes locked on your back. “Y/N..?”

You didn’t stop what you were doing., offering a dry little ‘hm?”

He swallowed hard. “Can I… can I take you out?”

There was a pause. Then, slowly, you glared at him over your shoulder. “Pardon?”

He blinked. Panic hit (and there was that warm feeling in his groin again). Then, like it was rehearsed, he reached behind his back and held something out.

A wildflower. Well, a weed. Obviously tugged from the sidewalk out front, roots still dirty. But somehow, in his trembling hands, it looked about as pretty as the large bouquets Johnny kept offering you.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

His voice was tight, and you noticed now how his fingers were shaking. Like he was expecting you to laugh in his face. “I… we can do whatever you’d like. If you’ll give me a chance.”

The weed was already wilting in his hand but he kept it cradled in his palm like it was worth his weight in gold. 

His head stayed bowed, jaw clenched, and the other hand curled into a fist behind his back, nails digging into his palm to keep from shaking.

After what felt like an eternity he saw your hand reaching out and carefully taking the small flower from his palm. “When are you free?”

His head shot up, eyes wide as they locked with yours. “I–I’ll have to check! I can text you. Just… I will text you.”

He continued to ramble, promising again and again that you'd hear from him as he stumbled backwards toward the door, his now-cold coffee clutched in hand.

He’d done it. He asked you out. He’s going on a date. With you.

Outside, he let out a breathless laugh and gave himself a small, victorious pat on the back, his thumb brushing over his name on the cup. His small personal treasure. A symbol of this joyous moment.

But then he paused.

Squinted.

“She spelled my name wrong..”

You may have an attitude problem.

…

Simon was a pretty blunt texter, you’d learned. He also started every single text message by stating it was him.

‘This is Simon. Would you like to go for dinner?’

‘This is Simon. I’ll send a list of restaurants. Pick what interests you.’

‘This is Simon. Don’t look at any prices. Leave your wallet at home.’

‘This is Simon. Eight sound good?’

‘This is Simon. Leaving out now. Excited to see you. Leave your wallet at home.’

‘This is Simon. At the entrance.’

You watched him for a couple seconds from your car, partially to feel out the situation and partially because you drove over in flip flops and needed to switch to heels.

Simon looked.. Nervous. A side of him you’d seen a lot of in the past few weeks but now it was at an all time high. It was like he didn’t know where to put his hands.

He tugged at his collar, checked his watch, ran his fingers through his slicked back blonde locks over and over. 

He seemed to perk up like a dog as he saw you approach, his jaw slack and his hands now suddenly folded in front of him. “Y/N.. you look—you look…you are—”

“Hi..” You interrupt as you come to a stop in front of him, “Were you out here long?”

“No! He said, quickly offering you a hand. “Been here for two minutes at the most..” 

He opened the door for you, his hand on the small of your back. “You’ll like it here..”

Once seated, Simon stared at the menu blankly, sneaking glances at you every few seconds.

“You good?” you asked, raising your eyes from your own menu. 

“Yeah.” He nodded, setting the menu down. “Just… tryin’ to figure out how to talk to you. I really like you. We all do.”

“We..?” You repeat, non committedly as you run your finger over the menu.

“Yknow.. Johnny, Gaz–suppose you call him Kyle, and uhh Price–John..” He stutters out. “We all really like you.”

You didn’t look up right away. Instead, you let the silence stretch just long enough for Simon to start shifting in his seat. His fingers tapped nervously against the edge of the table, like he was bracing for you to stand and walk out. He always seems prepared for the worst around you.

Finally, you looked up from menu. “You all talk about this together?”

He nodded slowly. “Not at first, per our.. ambush. But… yeah. Eventually. It wasn’t exactly avoidable.”

You let out a quiet breath, straightening in your chair. “So what is this, then? A group interview?”

He snorted, caught off guard, and the tension in his shoulders eased. “More like… an application process.”

“And you’re the first brave soul to show up?”

“Might not be the brave one. Might just be the most desperate.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That supposed to impress me?”

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “But I was hoping this would.”

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out something small, setting it gently in front of you on the table.

A little wildflower. This one wasn’t wilted. Still clumsy, still a little dirt clinging to the roots, but fresher. Something he clearly went out and searched for.

You stared at it for a moment before your lips stretched out into a grin so wide your cheeks started to hurt. “Oh.. you are ridiculous.”

He smiled. “Yeah. But you haven’t told me no.”

You reached out, taking the flower. “…What night are the others taking me out?”

Simon grinned. “I’ll let ‘em know you asked.”

[leadyoutothelight]

Please Hold-Part 1

You've only known him as the Lonely Cowboy, the phone sex operator who's titillated your ears for well over a year, indulging in your sexual desires without the messy complications of a physical partnership. But when your diner regulars Sarah and Ellie introduce you to their father, new town transplant Joel Miller, you realize his sinful southern drawl is familiar in all the wrong ways.

Rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, do not use my work to train AI, it will be deleted.

Warnings: Phone sex, Sex work, Fingering, Edging, Masturbation (male and female), Unprotected sex, Dirty talk, a tiny bit of exhibition, Voice kink (come on it's Joel Miller), Pet names, Degradation, Misunderstandings, Unspecified Age Gap *please let me know if I missed anything*

Pairing (No Outbreak AU) Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count: 8k

Note: Um, hi...this came about because honestly the idea of Joel Miller talking you through an orgasm wouldn't leave me alone...So enjoy! Part 2 is in the works!

It’s been a long week, too long, with too many closing shifts and not enough tips. You’re barely scraping by. But a girl has her needs, and you’ve made sure to budget in the money you're about to spend like a kid at a candy store. After stumbling into your apartment, hung up your coat, kicked off your shoes, you wander into the gloom of your bedroom. Still in your waitress uniform, a horrid bright red, white polka-dotted monstrosity, and a short poodle skirt to match. 

It was a staple of the old fifties diner you worked at, that could handle the weird hours you needed while going to the local university, working TA hours, and assisting in other department needs. You sigh, rubbing at your tired eyes, considering for a moment that maybe you’ll just sleep. 

But there’s an ache that’s settled low in your stomach, a warmth spreading since you realized what day it was. Your phone dings in your hand, you know it’s the notification from your email, a reminder sent to yourself about who’s back on the soundboards tonight.

The number is already saved in your phone, has been for about a year, and thankfully you’ve avoided calling it for about a month…after all he’d said he’d be off. 

A quick poke of your finger, and the screen shifts as the phone dials. It rings for a few moments too long, and you worry that…maybe you misheard, misdialed? 

“You’ve reached the Lonely Cowboy, how can I help you tonight?” 

To hear that raspy southern drawl tickle your ear has your toes curling into the softness of the comforter. Breath hitching, a familiar throb settles between your thighs, and it takes every ounce of your self restraint to keep your hand from wandering. 

“Hey Cowboy,” you mummer, bottom lip trapped between your teeth, as he chuckles a fondness filling his voice as he recognizes you. 

“Is that my sweet Cherry Pie?” The way he hums your nickname has you squirming, it’d been too long. You can’t resist any longer, hand wandering down your side finger tips pulling up your skirt. 

“Yes, missed you–” Christ, you’re already breathless, and needy. “Been counting down the days till I could call you again.” Your fingers slip between your thighs, finding the wet spot on your panties. A quick press of your middle finger, pressing the cotton against your clit, you whine.

“Were you a good girl while I was gone?” 

You freeze, blood rushing from your cunt to your head, as you recall your last conversation, last month, right before he told you he’d be out of commission for a month to move. He’d made you swear, before he’d let you cum, you’d be a good girl. That’d you’d wait a whole month without indulging in masturbating without him. You’d been so close to following his instructions…but you’re needy, and had caved about mid way through the month. 

But after that one misstep you’d abstained, now though, the guilt clawing at your innards as you considered lying, but he’d know…he always knew. Maybe it was the inflection of your words, or that little tremor you’d get in your throat. 

“Cherry,” there’s a dangerous lilt to his tone, you imagine him, spread legged in his chair. A fist curled on his thigh, his face shrouded in shadow as you never gave much thought to how he looked, “Were you a good girl while I was gone?” 

“No…” a hushed confession spoken to your phone, your finger halting its feather-soft torture. Yet the ache grows, a heat enveloping your skin. From the top of your head to the tips of your curled toes. Silence stretches between the two of you, and for a panicked moment you think he’s going to hang up. 

But you hear it, his soft sigh through his nose, the clink of a belt buckle, the hush of a zipper. You squirm, waiting for his order, his command. 

“Oh Cherry Pie,” he hums, and you strain to hear it, the telltale noise of his hand stroking his cock. You know he probably does this with his other clients…fists himself into a frenzy, whispering sweet platitudes, and sinful words to whoever is on the other line. But you can’t resist the greedy thought that you’re the only one who’s heard his groan of release. “And here I was…thinking you’d be good.” 

“I–it was one time–” you whimper, head falling back, his voice sends your heartbeat thumping, body writhing as the pulse in your cunt grows. 

“You promised me, no touching yourself till I came back.” His words are low, there’s a growl to his tone, one that sends a spark of pleasure through your clit. Your finger twitches, to rub the little bud, but he hasn’t said you could. 

“Is your hand between your legs?”

“Yes,” you respond in a breathless whine.

“Oh no sweet Cherry,” he rasps, and you whine, “hand by your side.” 

You comply, hand leaving its place between your thighs to rest beside your hip, fingers grip the soft comforter. You’re silent as you listen to the lazy strokes of his fist on his cock. 

“Now, what did you do,” he hums, your stomach swoops as you hear him grunt…wondering if he squeezes the base of his cock to keep himself from cumming too soon. 

“I can’t–”

“Oh you can, or this call is just going to be you listening to me get off how does that sound Cherry?” 

You know he means it, and you know you’ll comply, he’s got you wrapped around his finger and it’s a cosmic joke that you're whipped for a man you’ve never actually seen, much less met. 

“Now, what did you do sugar?” 

Teeth bite your lip, and your legs shift with impatience. Before finally speaking.

“It was a few weeks ago…” you mumble eyes staring up at the popcorn ceiling of your room, the fan humming as it turns, and turns. 

“I had one of our calls saved–” 

“Which one?” 

It surprises you, the sigh of his voice, the way he sounds almost as needy as you, sends a little thrill through you. That maybe he missed you as much as you missed him, though you know it’s not true, but you’ll think about that later…right now you just want a release. 

“The one where you came…and I squirted,” the heat that rises to your cheeks at the admission. Another throb courses through your cunt, a noticeable gush of wetness leaks between your thighs. 

“Fuck,” he rumbles and you whine,you can hear his breathes, shorter, quicker. You almost can’t hear the wet sound of his fist fucking his cock. “What were you thinkin’ about?” 

“You,” a breathless admission, “I was thinking about being on my knees between your thighs, making you cum like that with my mouth.” 

Your thighs tense rubbing together to give yourself some relief. To bring down the ache of your clit, but it’s a losing battle. Your cowboy groans into the receiver, another whispered ‘fuck’. 

“I thought about how badly I needed to feel your cock in me, in my mouth, in my cunt—”

“You can touch yourself,” you almost cry out at that. Your hand is quick, pulling your panties down, your thumb moving on your phone screen and you switch it to speaker. Your fingers eager against your clit, pressing on the nub with a panicked ferocity.

“Did you use a toy?” 

He asks with a moan, and you keen in reply. 

“Yes, I can’t get off with just my fingers–” 

“Wanna use one now?” he grunts, his fist working faster, sweat coats your skin in the late summer night, it has been unseasonably hot this year, and your fingers leave your cunt to strip off the uniform. Removing the outfit is freeing, and after the dress comes your bra, nipples pebbling in the exposed air. 

“Can I?” You ask into the phone, he answers with a strained ‘uh-uh’. You take the chance and scramble to your nightstand, opening the bottom drawer and finding your collection of toys you grab your bullet vibrator. You just need relief, and that’s what this will provide. 

“Got it?” 

You settle back down beside your phone, “Yeah, can I use it?” Another grunt is your affirmation, pressing the button the toy buzzes to life between your fingers. Your other hand goes to your breasts, pinching and toying with your nipples, the touch sending sparks of pleasure coursing down your spine to settle in your stomach.

“What else were you thinking about?” He snarls, you wonder how close he is, how desperate he is, because your thighs are wet with slick, and you know you’ll need to wash your comforter–but that’s not the priority, not right now as you press the bullet to the hood of your clit you almost scream at the pleasure sparks through your body. Back bowing and hips jolting away from the sudden onslaught.

“Fuck!” 

He chuckles, “sensitive Cherry?” 

“It’s been a few weeks, of fucking course I am you ass,” there’s no venom to your words, only a breathless relief as pleasure coils in your belly. He huffs into the receiver, and you can’t help yourself, “how close are you old man?” 

He laughs at the nickname, and you hear his fist slow again, as he pants into the phone. 

“I may be old Cherry, but I could have you screaming all night, now, what else were you thinkin' about?”

You rub the vibrator in slow circles around your clit, whimpering as the vibrations send jolts of sweet pleasure through you, almost too much as your hips jerk away from the sensation. 

“Was thinking about how I’d clean up your cock after you came, how I’d get you hard again and ride you, till you filled me up.” 

You feel it, the cresting pleasure, the overwhelming sensation, your cunt fluttering around nothing, and it makes you want to cry. Cowboy groans his fist going faster, he’s close you hear it in the growl of his voice. 

“Would love to see that, my sweet Cherry Pie riding my cock,” you gasp as the vibrator rubs against your clit just right. “Watch those pretty tits bounce, see your neck all marked up by me.” 

“Fuck, please--please,” your eyes clench shut as you struggle to keep your legs open and your other hand abandons your breasts to toy at your entrance, before slipping two fingers into your soaked cunt. 

“What do you want baby?” he hums into the phone, though you hear the breathlessness of his voice, knowing he’s close. 

“Pleasepleasepleasepleaseletmecum,” a babbled plea as your fingers fuck into your cunt, the wet noises filling the room, and the vibrator edges you closer and closer to breaking. “Please, baby, please.” 

“How could I say no to such a sweet plea?” He groans, and you hear him gasp, you wonder how he looks when he cums. If his mouth drops open, eyes rolling back into his head…if he cums on himself…

“Cum,” you obey without a second thought, vibrator pressed against your clit, and your fingers knuckle deep into your cunt, stroking that spot the tips of your fingers just barely reach. You shriek when it hits you, your back arches off the bed a gush of slick drenches your fingers. Your thighs snap closed, as your hips twitch. 

You pull the vibrator away when it becomes too much, your breasts heave as you come down from your high. You hear Cowboy’s pants as well, both of you stay like that for a moment, listening to each other breathe. You switch off the vibrator, letting it fall to somewhere amongst your blankets. 

“Fuck, I missed you…” 

The words are out before you can stop them, your lips loosened by post coital bliss. You wince as Cowboy chuckles into the phone. His voice whiskey rough, “Missed you too Cherry.”

While his words soothe the sting of embarrassment a bit, the haze of your orgasm is wearing off, and sense is returning full force. You glance at your phone, wincing at the time, you’ve been on the phone for almost forty-five minutes. You don’t have much time left, and no real way of ending the conversation.

“Move went well, I take it?” You change the subject as you sit up, looking around blindly for something to cover yourself with. An oversized t-shirt on the ground catches your eye and you slip it on. 

“Besides a long ass drive across the country, I’ve survived, though moving into another house was something I never want to do again.” He grouses, and now you snicker. 

“You say you’re not an old man yet you complain like one.”  

“I think you like that about me Cherry,” he responds and you smirk. “Besides, I knew I had to be ready for my favorite girl to call.” 

You chuckle, and stretch as you lay beside the phone again. Body loose and boneless now that you’ve finally gotten to hear him again…this is probably some sort of addiction issue but you again push the thought away, glancing at the time on your phone you wince, already getting too close to your max spend you sigh. 

“Gotta go?” 

He asks softly into the phone, you hope that disappointment is real, but you know better. 

“Yeah, but…hey we have next week right?” 

“We do, I always need my weekly slice of Cherry Pie.” 

You know you shouldn’t love the way the nickname slips off his tongue like sweet syrup.

“And I need to get off to my dirty old man,” he chuckles and you sigh. 

“Well, goodnight Cowboy.” 

“Goodnight Cherry.” 

And like that, you're ending the call. You knew you’d be spending a ton on this, a notification from your bank letting you know the payment’s been withdrawn. You lay in the dark quiet of your room, just thinking. 

You’d been calling the Lonely Cowboy for a year now, it’d happened after your most recent breakup. You weren’t a one night stand kind of person,or someone who had a list of people she could rely on for a quickie. 

You were too busy with work, with your degree program…it’d been one of the many reasons your last relationship had gone up in flames. Dude thought he was more important than your future. 

So drunkenly you’d looked up porn…then found the link to the sex phone line…and the rest was history. He was the relief you craved, without all the complications of an actual relationship, and the weirdness of a physical only relationship. 

You sighed, kicking the comforter off your bed, it’s too hot to sleep with one anyways. 

The Pie Hole is located close to the heart of the small university town, one of the last small town restaurants where a lot of the students and families come throughout the week to enjoy greasy, fried food. And a slice of the owner Ned’s homemade pies. It was probably a lot nicer in its heyday. Now it’s a bit rundown, though Ned and his wife, Chuck, have poured a ton of renovations and love and care into the place 

It’s like every diner, clinging to the past 1950’s aesthetic, the black and white checkerboard tiled floors, with matching wallpaper, decorated with black and white photos of old celebrities. The usual faces like Elvis, Frank Sinatra, and other groups you’ve not bothered to pay much attention to. TV’s dot the corners playing old cartoons, or black and white shows, though it’s the same tape, replayed over and over again. Shockingly enough no one’s noticed since you started working here four years ago. 

The glittering red vinyl seats in the booths and the high-tops at the bar. Bright neon signs shine in the windows, baring the diner’s name and advertising the homemade pies, and milkshakes. Finally the pride and joy for Ned is the restored jukebox, with its neon lights, that takes a quarter and it changes whatever is playing over the diner’s speakers. Unless someone decides to pull a prank, like replaying the same song several times…That was a dark day, then it’s cut, and an Ipod is prepped in the back with an oldie's playlist ready to go. 

The Pie Hole has turned into the local hangout, where a lot of students filter in throughout the week, between classes, parties, and everything else college life holds. 

And on a Saturday afternoon, it’s busy, much to your chagrin. You’ve been welcoming regulars, and newbies alike. After all it’s the beginning of the semester and that means families coming with their newly graduated freshman looking to spread their wings and hack it at college life. 

Your arms are sore from carrying trays, and clearing tables. You’ve just managed to take a quick drink break in the kitchen when Kristin rushes in with her notepad and a look of annoyance on her perfectly made-up face. She’s a biomedical law student, and she’s a genius. 

Sometimes you wonder why the hell she came to this university. She easily could have gone to an Ivy league, but you know she preferred to stay closer to home. Her hair is left out and it forms a perfect Afro about her face. She’s wearing the same uniform, bright red with white polka dots, though she’s styled hers with charms and other sparkly additions.

“Jerry, where the hell is my app for table twelve?” 

Jerry, the resident fry cook, has the decency to look sheepish. He’d been buried in his phone, and you raise a brow, watching the exchange. 

“Shit, sorry Kris–” 

“Don’t fuckin’ apologize just get me my app before this fucking old man bites my head off.” Jerry nods quickly and Kristin sighs slumping beside you, taking a swing of your water. Much to your annoyance. 

“You know, you have your own glass somewhere right?” She smirks, leaving a deep red lipstick stain on the rim of your glass. 

“Yeah, but yours is here, and you love swapping spit with me.” She winks and you roll your eyes. 

“Besides your break is over, some of your regulars are here,” her gaze flicks up, and you take a look outside the kitchen window. 

She’s correct, your regulars Sarah and Ellie have settled in their usual booth beside the window looking out at the busy main street road. With a sigh you stand, she gives you a good natured hip bump with a laugh as you grab your notepad and head out to greet them. 

Walking through the busy throng of tables, you pause in your sections, asking the usual questions. Noting who looks ready to head out, and who needs a refill, or who might be interested in a piece of pie. 

Before finally reaching the girls, who both smile as you approach. 

“Hey Sarah, hey Ellie!” 

“Hey Y/n!” Both answer in unison, and it makes you smile. Both girls are sweet, and came to the university when you were in your senior year. They’d been coming to the Pie Hole weekly without fail since, and you’d enjoyed seeing them. 

“You guys excited for your final year?” 

Ellie bounces with excitement nodding her head, “Yes! Then I can get an actual job and my girlfriend Dina and I can get a house–” 

“Have you told Dina this?” Sarah questions with a laugh, and you chuckle as well, Ellie’s cheeks flush as she glares at her sister. From what you’d gathered, they’re not biological, but apparently Ellie had been adopted by Sarah’s father after her mother passed suddenly. 

“I’ll ask her at graduation…” Ellie huffs, and you chuckle, but stop noticing their strange arrangement. Both girls share one side of the table, which you find odd. You gesture to them with a quirked brow. 

“Oh, didn’t we tell you?” Sarah asks, and you tilt your head, again confusion filling you. Trying to recall the last few times they’d been by to eat, they hadn’t mentioned anything that stuck out to you. You notice Ellie’s eyes alight, and Sarah starts to get up, their attention behind you. 

“ 'Scuse me darling,” the voice sends a bolt of heat through you, a familiar tingle begins in your innards. Your knees feel weak for a moment as you turn with a yelp.

Behind you stands the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, clearly older, his deep mahogany eyes take you in. Salt and pepper hair is neatly styled out of his face, a chiseled jaw, covered by a greying scruff of beard. Hands shoved in his jean pockets, you blink finally realizing that you’ve been blocking the booth behind you, gaping like a fish at the poor man before you. 

“Oh, gosh sorry!” You shuffle to the side, and the man offers you a nod, those eyes going to the two girls behind you. Finally a smile lights up his face, as both girls shout an excited, ‘Dad’! 

Okay now you need to know the details of this. As the man settles and offers the girls another smile, they turn to you expectantly. Which brings you back to the present. 

“Y/n, this is our dad Joel,” Sarah introduces, Ellie looks about ready to bounce out of the booth. You smile at her excitement and turn your attention to Joel, who is smiling at his daughters fondly. 

“Oh! Right, this is the mysterious Joel I’ve been hearing about!” Sarah and Ellie had been beside themselves the last few times they’d been to the Pie Hole, excitedly telling you that their father was moving closer to them. 

“Hopefully all good things?” Joel offers with a smile at his girls, which Ellie chuckles at and Sarah rolls her eyes but smiles. 

“No Dad, we told her all the terrible things,” Sarah answers, giving you a mischievous smile that makes you laugh. “Like how you thought NSYNC and the Backstreet Boys were the same.” 

You and Ellie snicker, and Joel winces, “What can I say, the music sounded the same–” 

“Oh, that’s a strike right there,” you joke, and Joel smirks at you. It sends a shiver down your spine, and you take a quick breath to calm yourself. “But since you’re new, I’ll overlook it this time.” 

He chuckles and the way your cunt throbs at the sound has you mortified. The poor man is here to eat with his daughters, who you’ve known for years, and are only a few years younger than you. Calm down! 

“But I swear sir, they’ve been going on and on about their dad moving closer, excited to meet you. Hopefully you’ll be able to handle college town living.” 

“We’ll see, thankfully not living too close to town, but got some land a few miles south.” 

“Ah, smart,” you acknowledge and Joel nods. Feeling the conversation lulling, you take the opportunity to return to your job duties.

“Okay, well now that your Dad is here, your usual milkshakes?” Both girls nod and Joel looks at you once more, his eyes make your heart stutter. It’s embarrassing, you’ve just met the guy, calm the fuck down. 

“And for the gentleman?”

You give him a sweet smile, one you know wins over all the customers that enter the diner, trying very hard to ignore the way those eyes take you in. Lingering a bit too long on the way your uniform tightens at your chest, the cut of the collar opened enough to reveal a modest amount of chest, but nothing scandalous. His smile has softened, and he considers you for a moment.

“Uh, you have any recommendations?”

You notice his voice carries a delicious southern drawl to it, that has your brain short-circuiting, as you fail to recall any of the drink options you’ve known since the first month you started working at the Pie Hole. And something about it feels familiar, a melody from a song you swear you’ve heard before, but the name escapes you.

“Uh–Well,” You huff softly, and remind yourself that right now you are at work and you need to get a grip, because your other tables need to be addressed as well. Finally, your mind restarts and you recall the drink menu. 

“Well if you have a sweet tooth, we have some great milkshakes. My favorite’s the chocolate, but if you’re not in the mood for something that sweet we home make sodas to order, with different syrups.” 

“Really?” His brow quirks, and he gives you a smirk.

You give him another sugar-coated smile and nod. “Any syrup you can think of, we’ve probably got it.” 

He pauses for a moment, glancing over at his daughters before meeting your gaze again, and your knees do that horrid shake that you’re grateful your skirt hides. 

“How about a Shirley Temple?” You give him a nod and glance at your table. 

“The usual milkshakes and a Shirley Temple coming right up. I’ll come back for your order in a sec, girls I can trust you to give him the menu rundown right?” 

Ellie and Sarah nod, and with that you turn and head back to the drink bar to get their order, and the refills done. 

The rest of your shift passes by in a blur, the girls came in close to the end of your shift but as the day slows, and you get their order in, Ellie orders a burger and Sarah gets the chicken tenders, with Joel ordering the chicken and waffles. You get them a plate of fries to share. 

You return as you notice they’ve all settled back in the booth, and the plates before them are mostly clean. Picking up the plates, you catch a bit of the conversation.

“Oh, you have to come with Dina and me to the national park, has some great trails,” Ellie says excitedly as Joel nods. She quiets though as you finish picking up the plates. 

“Well, has anyone saved any room for dessert?” 

Both the girls shake their heads, though Joel is quiet for a moment as he considers the dessert menu to the side. 

“How’s the pie?”

It’s such a simple question, yet the way he says it, the soft hum of his voice. You’re left breathless as those brown eyes meet yours. Tongue tied for a moment you stumble to answer, something about his tone, about the gruff, roughness to his words. As he mutters just beneath his breath, you’re struggling to put a finger on it. But you try to find your voice again.

“Oh–well,” with a huff you straighten, attempting to get some dignity back, “we’re known for our pies. The owner used to be a pastry chef in New York, and his pies are legendary.” 

Joel’s eyes never leave you, and you feel warmth spreading along your cheeks, your neck, heart kicking into overdrive as those warm brown eyes linger on your lips, you notice the slight purse of his own, the tip of his tongue sneaking between them to wet his bottom lip.  Your mind returns to the present as you remember you’re supposed to be recommending a pie, “b–but I have to say my favorites are either the pumpkin, or the apple.” 

Joel smiles, and considers the menu for another moment as you turn to the girls and mouth ‘check’ which they nod. Finally Joel returns his gaze to you. 

“I think I’ll try a slice of cherry pie.” 

It’s like all the air gets sucked from your lungs in a second. As the words leave Joel’s lips, your cunt throbs, and your brain launches you back into last night. On your bed, legs spread with a bullet vibrator pressed to your clit. Eyes rolled back into your skull, and your orgasm teetering dangerously close.

That same voice whispering dirty praises and sinful promises of what he’d do if he could actually touch you. 

You’re brought back by the sound of ceramic shattering on tile and Ellie and Sarah shouting something, Joel surprised and reaching out a hand to you, and the busy diner quieting at the sudden chaos of noises. 

You stand there, frozen, looking between the shocked trio and the broken plates scattered on the floor. 

“Oh my god—” it’s all that comes out of your mouth, you're saved by a frazzled Ned, who came in at some point during the afternoon rush. 

He gives your table an apologetic smile and ushers you to the back kitchen as one of the bus boys scurries over to clean up the shattered plates. He leaves to go deal with your section as you hide in the kitchen.

Mind a whirling mess, all you can think is, Oh my fucking god, he’s Lonely Cowboy and he lives in my town. 

Moving is a bitch, Joel knows this too well, after packing up his house in Austin and stuffing a rusted U-haul with all his worldly possessions and attaching it to his old pick up. The drive had been the easiest part, but the actual process of moving, the paperwork, the sleepless nights trying to find a decent moving company only to come to the conclusion that he needed to just move himself and a few pieces of furniture. It was overwhelming. 

Resettling in a new town, new people, but he’d do it all over again if only to see the way the girls' eyes lit up when he told them he’d bought some land and a house about thirty minutes from their college. Sarah and Ellie had shrieked so loud he was worried he might lose what little hearing he still had in his right ear. 

He’d made it though, and…with the additional funds from his–side hustle, he’d been able to afford a nice home. One where he hoped his girls would visit and maybe live after they finished school, maybe give him a few grand kids that could come stay with him. 

But that was thoughts for the future, right now Joel was just trying to find a new normal. Which he’s struggling to find, now yes, he’s gotten a job with a local construction company. The work is hard but he’s used to it, and it keeps his mind busy. 

Also the hours work…for his other job. Which has become his money maker. 

He’d never thought he’d get into this line of work, being a phone sex operator. But when he’d taken on Ellie, expenses doubled that he wasn’t completely prepared for, and while yes being a contractor paid well enough, he wasn’t able to put as much away for Sarah and Ellie’s futures. 

Especially college, and when both girls showed him their college choices, he’d probably aged a few decades when factoring in the cost. But he didn’t let it show, one night when the girls had been at a sleepover, he’d been doing research on possible extra jobs he could do. 

It’d popped up on Craigslist of all places…and in his desperation he figured it’s not like he’s touching anyone…or them touching him. 

So he applied, got a probationary period and he took off. Maybe it was his charm, the southern drawl, the fact that he didn’t have to look someone in the eye and lie to them about how much he wanted them when he’d rather be doing anything else. But Joel thrived as a phone sex operator. 

And his clients grew, as did the amount he could charge. It was a job, that’s all it was, a way to put more money to the side for Sarah and Ellie’s college fund, and have an emergency stash, because having two teenagers meant you needed to be prepared. Lord knew Ellie was a walking caution sign, and Sarah with her sports injuries…The job helped alleviate the stresses of being a single dad with only one brother to look to for help, and he had his own worries with his own family up in Jackson.

But he grew to enjoy it, getting on the phone with his regulars was one of his favorite parts of the job, but…the night Cherry called a year ago something shifted. With other clients it was easy to whisper sweet nothings, and carnal desires into their ears. Listen to them get off to the sound of his voice. But Cherry, the softness of her voice unsure of herself and what she was doing, the way she all but swooned for him, it changed something in him. 

With Sarah and Ellie being his priority in life, dating just never…worked. He was busy, and he was fine with a woman not being involved in his life, and his hand worked. But then when Cherry became a regular suddenly he’s so hard during the shift he knows she’ll call. That when he hears her voice it’s agony to not cum then and there. 

But then, he moves, and that final call only a month ago…Since then it’s been crickets.He knows he shouldn’t get too in his head about it, clients come and go in this industry. Also from what she’d admitted to him on the phone, he knew she was busy with life, and her outside responsibilities. 

But that last call he’d thought…maybe hoped something would change. The admission that she missed him…how quick he’d been to admit he missed her too. Joel didn’t think he could form an attachment to someone he’d never seen. But every time she called, exactly on the dot, his weariness left him. All he wanted to hear was her voice, asking about her day, her life, whatever she’d tell him. 

He thought about trying to call her back, but both his number and hers were protected, blocked when she called the line. No way to track her, even the email contact was through the agency. So by the second week when her voice hadn’t graced his ear, and he had exhausted all ideas on how to reach her. He’d tried going through the agency, though they only helped in offering for him to lower his price…he’d tired. Cherry’s syrup sweet voice was never on the other line. 

He’d played the call over, and over again. Trying to find when he’d messed up, overstepped that boundary she’d set, maybe it was that he was too domineering? No, her cries of release were anything but fake. Maybe…maybe she was just tired of him, and though he’d never admit it out loud, it hurt. Even her calling to tell him she was done would have been better. But the silence, leaving him hanging on to a rope that’s fraying with every week she doesn’t call. It’s a hell he didn’t think this job would put him through. 

He listens to their calls, the company saving their entire year of communication, studies it, pours over every second of audio, wondering where he fucked up. Hoping he’d hear something, a clue as to what happened. Though he also just listened to her sweet voice, cooing her need, begging him to let her cum. The wet sounds of her fingers in her cunt. Fuck, he missed her, and he had no way of fixing…what ever the hell he broke. 

He sits back at his desk, finishing another call, play by play they ask him what he’s doing/wearing, he gets them off they hang up. He gets paid. It was quick, and dirty, all so that he could sit there and wait. He glanced at the clock, the next hour blocked as always, the last hour of his shift, when she’d call. 

Like clockwork his phone would glow with the call, and he’d answer a bit too breathless, and then he’d hear her sweet voice…but he’s left disappointed when his phone remains quiet. The minutes tick by, and that same dull ache fills him. As the ever-passing hour reveals that she’s not calling, again. 

He sighs, and shuts off his other phone, staring at his computer screen for a few moments. Before with a grunt he stands, and collects his things to go out. 

Visiting the Pie Hole has become one habit that Joel’s managed to keep to, maybe it’s the food…but no, the main reason he keeps coming back is to see you. 

After your first meeting Joel couldn’t lie, you'd made an impression, now…dropping the plates had surprised him, and he’d been a bit worried for you. Though you’d been an apologizing mess, stumbling over your words, a strange nervousness to your voice that he hadn’t noticed before. Sarah and Ellie had both later told him you weren’t jumpy like that. Until they mentioned you were in your final year of your Master’s and had a huge thesis presentation; that might have been the issue. 

So with that in mind he’d come back, and even though you apologized several times again, Joel waved it off and gave you his most charming smile. He noticed at first you seemed–off. Maybe a little wary, but he wanted to show he’s more than happy to forget your first meeting. 

And, he’d never admit it, but Joel was lonely and he enjoyed the attention you paid to him. He’d figured out your schedule, with the help of the other waitress Kristin. Which she’d been a bit too eager to give to him, Joel started showing up to the Pie Hole weekly, and if his schedule allowed it, more. 

He liked watching you leave the table, taking in the way that outfit clung to your hips, your chest, noting which shade of red you painted your lips. The man had developed a crush, and since the client  who’d helped alleviate his sexual frustration had stopped calling Joel was struggling to find a new outlet. 

When he’d arrived at the diner, as usual it’s dead this time of night, save for a few bleary-eyed students, a trucker or two, and the staff. One of which is you, you're stationed at the bar, busily scribbling in what he assumes is your study book. 

You’re leaned over the counter, with just the right angle that Joel can see the tempting swell of cleavage that has him flushing. He feels like a fucking teenager again, the way just seeing a peek of your tits had his cock throbbing. He rushes to his usual booth in your section, it takes a moment before you notice him. 

He gives you an awkward wave, as you flash him one of those wide-mouthed smiles. It makes him smile back, before you head over you’re stopping at the soda bar. Making his now favorite drink, a root beer float. 

He watches your every move the way your fingers flick easily over the spout, the rush of carbonated water filling the soda glass. Filling it just right, then adding the syrup and a small scoop of ice cream, before adding a straw and a maraschino cherry. 

He pretends to read the menu as you approach, he can’t have you seeing the way his eyes track your every movement. The sway of your hips, swishing the skirt, the way your fingers clutch the soda glass. 

He blows out a soft breath between his lips as he considers the menu, even though he already knows what he’s going to get. 

“All by yourself tonight Joel?” 

Your voice sends something through him, a familiar tingle of need that has him dizzy with confusion. Another jolt of his cock, and he shifts in his seat, trying to ignore the growing tightness of his jeans. 

“Yep, Ellie and Dina are out at some party, and Sarah’s with the softball team out of state.” He offers with a smile, he hopes you don’t hear the rasp in his voice. Notice the way his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. 

No, you just flash him that same smile, setting the glass down and taking out your notepad. 

“So what can I get you?” You ask as you ready your pen, poised over the worn yellow lined pages. Joel resists the urge to watch your hands, the way your fingers curl around the pen, the tip of your thumb pressing the clicker with practiced ease. He can’t stop his mind imagining how they’d look around his cock. He forgets how to breathe for a moment as he meets your eyes. 

A curious quirk to your brow that makes him wonder if you see right through him, the old man that’s coming to the same diner almost daily if only to see you. Oh god, it’s sad, even worse he’s using whatever it feels for you to replace the emptiness Cherry is leaving in her wake. He coughs as the silence stretches on a bit too long. 

“Uh, the pot roast stew please,” you give him a smile with a soft laugh. 

“Jeez, have you tried anything else on the menu?” 

It’s a well meaning jab, though Joel feels heat along his neck, and his cock jolts at the sound of your breathless jest, again that twinge of something familiar like he’s heard it before. But can’t place it.

“Heh, can’t say I have, but what can I say: I’m a man of habit.” 

You smile, jotting his order down you give him a wink, before turning and heading back to the kitchen. Your uniform’s poodle skirt swishes just high enough that the bottom swell of your ass peeks just beneath the hem, he thinks for a moment he catches sight of a pair of panties, but it couldn’t be. 

“Jesus,” Joel husks under his breath, trying subtly to adjust, the brush of his palm against his cock sends a sweet tickle of pleasure along his spine. His toes flex in his timberland's as he shifts in his glittery red vinyl booth. Grateful that the few other patrons are so engrossed in their own meals or phones they barely notice his distress. 

He takes out his phone to distract himself, swiping through different apps, trying and failing to forget the sway of your hips, imagining the softness of them against his palms as he fucks into you. The noises you’d make as he pounded you into the table before him, the way your cunt would flutter around his cock as you cum, again, and again.

Fuck. 

He needs to figure out an outlet, that’s not the pretty waitress at the diner he’s frequenting. He’s pulled out of his imaginings when you approach, his food in your hand. Giving him another sweet smile, his cock jumps, he thinks to himself how pretty that red lipstick would look smudged on his shaft, and around your lips. 

“Alrighty, one pot roast stew–” he should have seen it coming, normally he moves his drink away from where you place it on the table, but he’s been so entrapped in his fantasies he neglected to move it. The edge of the plate clinks against the glass, and it’s tumbling into his lap, the chill of the soda against his bulge is startling, he jolts with a swear. 

But you react with a quickness that dumbfounds him, a whispered curse followed by a whimpered chorus of apologies. The towel hanging at your hip is in your fingers, and before he can stop you, your hand is pressing between his legs. 

It’s an innocent caress, you’re trying to clean him of the bubbling soda and melting ice cream. But all his mind–his dick can focus on is the soft press of your fingers against his bulge through his jeans. 

A strangled grunt leaves him, like he’s been wounded as his cock all but pulses beneath your touch. 

“Fuck–Joel I’m so sorry–” your eyes are focused on the wet spot on his crotch, he’s mortified, knowing you’ll feel the outline of his cock straining against the denim of his jeans. Throbbing against every swipe of the towel, the accidental brush of your fingertips against it. 

“S–Stop–Stop, I got it!”

He doesn’t mean for it to sound as venomous as it does, but he can’t…won’t let you feel the way his cock reacts to your touch. You step back, a clear wounded look in your eyes. A flush creeps up his neck, into his cheeks, the other patrons are looking. He needs to leave before you feel it, call him out on it.. He stands without a look he leaves a couple of bucks on the table…more than the spilled drink is worth and stomps out of the diner. 

You call after him, but he ignores it, heading to his truck, the pain between his thighs growing as every part of him begs to turn around. Go back into the diner, press a scalding kiss to your pretty red lips and fuck you atop the table. 

No, he can’t do that–fuck, he won’t do that. You’re a young woman in her prime with plenty of admirers. He sees them in the afternoons, the way other boys watch you too, their lust barely contained…He’s no better then them, salivating after you like a dog in heat. Maybe he’s worse though, after all there’s another girl out there he’d happily drop to his knees and worship. You seem like a nice girl, sweet, maybe a bit naive…But you’re not Cherry, and a part of him winces at that.

The ride home passes too slow, and yet too fast, how he makes it home when all his mind can think about is you, the softness of your hand against his crotch. He can’t recall any of the drive, if he stopped at the lights, or just sped through them.

 Joel stomps into the house, into his bedroom. Undoing his jeans his cock still achingly hard as he spits into his palm he starts at a quick uncoordinated pace. Standing before his unmade bed, he fucks into his hand bottom lip trapped between his lips.

This is just about relief, and all he can think about is you, naked on your knees, lips around his cock. On his bed ass up and spread as he pounds into you, the sweet pretty noises you’d make, the way his name sounds on your lips as you beg him for more. And he’d give it to you, oh fuck, he’d give you anything and everything you asked for.

The sweet flutter of your eyes as he pounds into you, fuck you’d feel so good. He knows you would, knows you would whimper the sweetest things to him, he gasps as he cums with a sudden jolt. 

He pants staring at the splatter of cum painting his comforter and the top of his fingers. His cock softening in his palm, pulses again as he thinks you would clean him, would watch him through your lashes as the sweet little tongue swirled around his fingers sucking him clean. 

“God…dammit.”

He comes back to the diner a week later, again late at night. Cherry still hasn’t called, the guilt he feels has started to overwhelm him. He knows he needs to make things right. Entering the 50’s diner, as usual it’s barren, his heart jolts seeing you’re not there. He sees your friend Kristin, who’s busying herself with some glasses.

The second she sees him though, her eyes widen, and then darken–for a moment he worries that he’s burned this bridge so bad he’ll never see the other side again, and he can’t do that again. Not when the sting of Cherry disappearing is too fresh. But then you appear from the kitchen when you see him, your eyes widen and he holds up his hands in surrender. 

“J–joel–” 

“Can we talk?” 

He finally manages, and you pale, he winces guilt gnawing at his innards as he figures out what to say, how to explain himself. I left so suddenly because I couldn’t stand the thought of you feeling my boner, doesn’t seem like the best way to start an apology. You give a worried look to Kristin, who for all the poison in her gaze gives an encouraging nod in his direction. 

He resists the urge to blow out a breath of relief when you step forward then and go to Ellie, and Sarah’s booth. You sit, the poodle skirt flaring out around your thighs, and his cock jolts, he forces his eyes to lock onto your face. 

Sitting across from you, he clears his throat, considering what he should say, you start. 

“I’m so sorry about last week, I–I have no idea what’s come over me–” 

“Y/n,” saying your name, you stop your fingers fidget on the black table top. Watching him silently as he considers what to say next, “I–I’m so sorry about last week, I shouldn’t have…stormed out the way I did.” 

He scrambles through his mind to find the next words of his apology, as your teeth pull your bottom lip between them. His cock throbs again, as all he can think is how soft it would feel between his teeth. The noises you’d make–focus. 

“I had a bad day at work,” he admits, not his contracting job, no he’s getting tired of the phone job, now that Cherry is well and truly gone. The excitement he had is waning, the money is still fine, but…both his girls are almost done with school. And he’s got enough of a nest egg growing he could leave it, and not have to worry about funds again. “I–I shouldn’t have taken it out on you like that, I’m so sorry.” 

You blink at this hesitating before answering, he jolts when your hand reaches over the table top, your nails are painted with a chipping soft pink nail polish. 

“Let’s start over, hi, I’m Y/N and I work at this diner when I’m not being driven insane by my Master’s program.” You give him a sweet smile, and Joel’s heart stutters, flipping in his chest with glee. He returns the smile and takes your hand in his, noticing how soft–stop it. 

“I’m Joel Miller, cantankerous, I don’t know the difference between NSYNC and Backstreet Boys, and my girls are my world.” 

You giggle at his words, and nod, he doesn’t want to let go of your hand. But you release it, and he lets his return to the table top. Your fingers brush a stray lock of hair from your face. 

“So, can I get you a root beer float, and not spill it on you?” 

“By all means.”  

You stand with a sweet smile, “Okay, be right back, let me just check on my regular and then I’ll get your order?” 

He nods, and turns to look at the menu, though he knows what he’s getting. He feels a relief sweep through him, hopeful that now he can get on the straight and narrow with you. This was a good sign. 

“How’s everything?” 

He listens as you work the only other table in your section. An elderly man sits there, plate half finished, “as always delicious.” 

“Good to hear, you’ll be taking the rest to go?” 

“You know me too well y/n, and of course you’ll be included to come home right?” 

You laugh at the old man’s joke, clearly he’s tried before, but there’s no malice or degradation to the old man’s tone. 

“Mr. Gordon, you know I’m not available for house calls anymore,” he chuckles as you clean away the plates. 

“I know, but you treat me so sweetly, someone has to sweep you up, why not me?” 

Joel doesn’t know why he doesn’t tune out the conversation, maybe it’s the flare of jealousy that courses through him, at you so easily flirting with someone else–an elderly man at that, but your next words have his world collapsing. 

“Oh, hush you dirty old man–” he hears nothing else, he knows those words, he knows your voice. Maybe it’s pitched a bit higher then he remembers or maybe because it’s not garbled by the phone reception. But it’s her–you–fuck–you’re Cherry. 

Joel doesn’t know what to do, all he hears is a ringing in his ears and feels his heart pounding in his chest. Thinks he might pass out if he’s honest for a moment, the world tilting.

But how? When? 

His mouth opens and closes, trying to understand what the hell landed him into this situation.

“Joel?” 

He jumps, startled that you’ve appeared to his side, having finished your exchange with your elderly regular. He hears it then, though he doesn’t want to admit it–fuck he’s been here for  a month, and never—never put two and two together. But he hears it now, the soft lilt to your question, the way Cherry’s words would do the same thing when she–you were unsure. 

He stares for what feels like too long, before he’s muttering a quick apology, an excuse that he’s been called to a job site. He’s pissed, anger flaring through him with a heat that coils in his chest, he gets in his truck with a snarl and slams his palms against the steering wheel, ignoring the way you watch him leave hurt clear in your eyes as he drives away.

[amoressb]

───── FOUND IN THE QUIET 西村 力 N. RK

ꪆৎ ⋆˚࿔ a fun game of hide and seek with your best friend and his members leads to more ｡｡

FLUFF & wc. 1770 + / friends to lovers , kissing , skinship , silly teasing ｡｡

──── ARCHiVE

you knew coming to visit the boys at the hybe building tonight meant chaos. you just didn’t expect to be yanked into a full on game of hide and seek, the kind that turned grown men into giggling messes and sparked more adrenaline than any concert stage.

“losers hide, winners seek,” heeseung declared proudly after destroying everyone at rock-paper-scissors.

“that’s rigged,” you muttered under your breath. “nope,” sunghoon grinned, flicking your forehead. “that’s karma for showing up late. start running, y/n.”

you were still grumbling when riki stepped behind you, leaned close enough for his voice to brush your ear, and murmured, “come with me.”

you turned to look at him. his usual nonchalant smirk lingering at the edge of his lips, but his hand found yours so quickly, so smoothly, it caught you off guard. “hold on—”

he tugged you with him, running down the hallway like this was the olympics and not a dumb game. you couldn’t stop laughing, stumbling behind him as your shoes squeaked against the polished floor.

“where are we going?” you whisper yelled. “you’ll see.”

the building was dim, most of the overhead lights turned off since hours had passed since practice ended. there was something surreal about running through hybe in the dark, with only rikis hand in yours and your heartbeat thundering in your ears.

finally, he slowed near the end of a hallway and pushed open a barely visible door.

“storage?” you asked and he just winked. “the one no one ever checks.”

you slipped inside after him and he carefully eased the door shut behind you. the moment it closed, darkness swallowed the space completely. no windows. no light. just faint outlines of mats, rolled wires, and your own uneven breathing…and his. right behind you.

“okay,” you whispered, lips barely moving. “now what?”

“we wait.”

so you wait. for a while, it’s quiet. your arms brush occasionally. his shoulder leans into yours. every small shift feels like the room gets even smaller. you try to distract yourself, think about the game, about the ridiculous punishments heeseung probably has planned for the losers but your thoughts keep drifting back to riki. how he still hasn’t let go of your hand. you’re not even sure he realizes it.

now the footsteps come. closer. louder. “check down here!” jake yells. “someone go near the back rooms!”

you tense instinctively and rikis hand tightens slightly around yours and then…panic. someone jiggles the doorknob.

you gasp softly, too loudly, and immediately feel rikis hands move. one slides around your waist, pulling you gently backward until your back hits his chest. you barely breathe.

your hands instinctively reach for something, anything, and end up grasping the front of his hoodie, clinging there. you can feel his breath against your temple now, warm and shallow. he doesn’t speak, but you feel the way his fingers rest on your hip. firm, steady, grounding.

suddenly, you feel him lean in.

his lips press against yours. it’s not rushed. not a “shut up” kiss like in dramas. it’s quiet, careful, like he’s been holding it in for too long and now he’s scared to mess it up.

you freeze for a second. not because you’re shocked, but because…oh. this isn’t a game…this means something.

your heart beats so fast, you think he might feel it. his thumb gently brushes your cheek, anchoring you, and your lips respond, softly, instinctively, moving with his in that dark, hidden place where the only light is whatever’s burning in your chest.

when he pulls back, you don’t speak. neither does he. you’re both still pressed together, forehead to forehead, your fingers still twisted in his hoodie.

“…sorry,” he finally whispers. “i didn’t mean to—actually, no. i did but not like that. not just because we were hiding.” you feel him start to step back like he’s about to let go, so you speak before he can.

“you kiss everyone you hide with?” you say softly, voice teasing but trembling a little. he laughs under his breath. “only the one i’ve been falling in love with since before i even realized it.” you blink. the silence stretches.

“i know it’s dumb timing,” he says quickly. “i’m supposed to be an idol. we’re always being watched. you’re my best friend. i probably just ruined everything but my goodness, y/n, i’ve been trying not to say it for months.”

you feel the words settle in your chest. heavy, warm, and real. he shifts slightly, like he’s waiting for rejection. or worse..awkward silence but you don’t give him either. you slide your hand up, finding the side of his jaw in the dark. you brush your thumb along his skin.

“i love you too, riki.”

you feel him tense then completely melt. his arms wrap around you tighter, pressing you into him like he’s scared you’ll vanish. his head dips into your neck and he just holds you there, breathing you in.

“you mean it?” he asks, his voice muffled and tiny.

“i wouldn’t have said it otherwise,” you whisper, smiling even though he can’t see it.

and then, suddenly—

“FOUND YOU!” the door slams open. bright light floods the room and you both jolt, arms still tangled, faces flushed.

“ohhhhhh,” sunoo cackles from the doorway. “what is this?”

“wait..did they just—” jungwons eyes go wide as the rest of the boys peek around the corner.

“oh my,” heeseung groans. “this is what happens when we let riki hide unsupervised.”

riki groans and hides his face in your shoulder. “we’re never going to hear the end of this.”

“nope,” you giggle, wrapping your arms around him anyway. “never.”

but honestly? you don’t care. not when his fingers are still laced with yours. not when his heart is still racing against your chest. not when the best game of hide and seek just turned into something you’d both been quietly hoping for all along.

but the next day, the teasing starts before you even walk through the practice room door.

“don’t kiss her in the supply closet this time, romeo!” jake shouts the moment he spots riki turning the corner, causing nearly everyone in the room to whip their heads around.

your face burns. riki, on the other hand? just groans and pulls his hoodie over his head dramatically. “i hate all of you.”

“no you don’t,” sunghoon grins. “you just hate that we found you mid makeout.”

“it wasn’t a makeout!” riki grumbles, now red faced, tugging at the strings of his hoodie. “it was literally like ten seconds.”

“ten seconds of scandal,” sunoo sings. “in the shadows. in the dark. in the arms of your best friend…”

“okay,” riki cuts him off, slumping next to you on the bench. “i get it, i lose.”

“honestly?” you laugh, elbowing him gently, “this is what you get for kissing me during a game.”

riki leans in, close enough for only you to hear. “would’ve kissed you with or without the game.” you feel your cheeks warm again. “you’re lucky I let you.”

“lucky?” he whispers, leaning closer, lips brushing your ear. “i think i hit jackpot.”

you don’t even get the chance to come up with a witty reply before jay tosses a water bottle at the back of rikis head. “no flirting while stretching!” he scolds like a gym teacher. “let’s go, lover boy!”

riki huffs and reluctantly stands, but not before reaching down and lacing his fingers through yours under the bench. his pinky stays hooked around yours for a second longer than necessary before he jogs to the middle of the room.

you try to focus on stretching too, but every time you glance up, rikis already staring at you. when you catch him? he smirks. little smug punk.

during warm ups, he “accidentally” ends up stretching next to you even though jungwon assigned partners. he tries to act casual, reaching down toward his toes, but then you feel his pinky brush yours again and again…and again.

“ki,” you whisper, giggling, “you’re not being slick.”

“i don’t care,” he shrugs, deadpan. “i have a girlfriend now. i’m legally allowed to touch you.”

“that’s not how law works.”

“i’ll ask our lawyer.” you roll your eyes but don’t pull your hand away.

later, while the boys run through choreography, you sit on the side reviewing footage and notes like usual, but your eyes keep drifting to riki. he’s focused, sharp, dancing like the stage is waiting. but when he catches you watching?

he winks. WINKS. then pretends he didn’t. the worst part is, everyone sees it.

“riki, your legs are late on that spin!” jungwon calls out, voice tight.

“yeah, maybe cause he’s too busy flirting with his audience of one,” heeseung chimes in, pointing at you dramatically. you throw your hands up, laughing, but riki just shrugs again like he’s completely innocent.

then at water break, when no one’s paying attention, he walks behind you, grabs your wrist gently, and tugs you into the hallway just outside the room.

“ki—”

he cuts you off with a kiss, soft and sweet. a little salty from sweat but still full of all the things you felt last night in that dark little storage room.

when he pulls away, his smile is shy but proud. “sorry,” he says, completely not sorry, “i just missed you.”

you blink, “you’ve been staring at me for the past two hours.”

“exactly,” he says, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “and it wasn’t enough.” your heart stumbles a little. “you’re really all in now, huh?”

he grins that signature lazy grin. “i was all in before you even knew. you just finally gave me the green light.”

you laugh and shake your head, letting your forehead rest against his for a second. he smells like fabric softener and too many skipped showers. “i’m glad i did,” you murmur. he kisses your forehead once, then your temple. and just when he goes in for your lips again—

“HEY!” sunoo screeches from inside the practice room. “ARE YOU KISSING HER AGAIN?!”

“REALLY,” jake groans, “GET A ROOM, JUST NOT THE STORAGE ONE.”

riki groans and buries his face in your shoulder. “i’m actually never living this down.” you laugh, wrapping your arms around his waist. “you really aren’t.”

yet he still kisses your cheek before letting go. when you both walk back into the room, hand in hand this time, no more hiding, riki doesn’t flinch at the teasing.

because for the first time, he gets to be your boyfriend and nothing in the world, not even a hundred relentless members, can ruin that for him.

⋆｡°✩ @cheruphic @liwinly @chrrific @hyukabean @ijustwannareadstuff20 @jellyluv4eva @heekolazz @soona-huh @hoonprksung @sunhrtss

[lqveharrington]

Never Planned | F.W.

summary: you and fred had been friends for so long that it never occurred to the both of you that everyone thought you were dating.

pairing: fred weasley x gryffindor!reader

includes: fluff, the both of you being mischievous, kissing, cursing, the two third years being wingmen when they don’t even know it

a/n: officially working on requests the second this gets posted!

You and Fred had the same routine every Sunday night after dinner. The routine was simple and familiar—so familiar that even the younger students knew it all too well. Every Sunday evening, you would typically read the Daily Prophet or do final touches to your essays while Fred would find a way to bother you until you finally gave into him and give him attention. That’s how Sunday nights would always go.

Except for tonight. For some reason, today felt off and neither of you could place a finger on it. The evening started off normal, but the longer you ignored it, the more the feeling intensified.

You were supposed to be working on your Charms essay, but all you could think about was the small feeling nagging at the back of your mind. You were so absorbed with the thought that you didn't realize you were biting the tip of you quill until Fred pulled your hand away from you, propping his feet up on your lap.

"What's with the face, Faucett? Need help with your Charms essay?" Fred asked, pouting dramatically when you snapped out of your trance and pushed his feet off your lap. "You hate me."

You scoff and roll up your parchment, placing it away on the side table. "I do not hate you, Fred."

“You do.” He teased and angled you to face him, pulling your legs to lay over his lap instead. He watched you rest your head against the cushions of the couch, making him tap your knee in concern. “What’s wrong?”

You huff and play with the threads of you sweater that Molly had made you this past Christmas, meeting his eyes that were filled with more emotion than you could place. “Nothings wrong with me, but it feels like something in this room is, you know?”

Fred looked over at the other people in the room. There were hardly any people in the Gryffindor Common Room on Sunday evenings. Everyone was out either making use of the last few hours of freedom they had before classes started the next day or in their dorms, trying to cram for any surprise quizzes.

The only people that were in the Common Room were a group of first years comparing notes, some fourth years playing exploding snap, and a pair of third years conversing quietly in a corner, tucked away from prying eyes and voices—such as Fred Weasley himself.

Fred raised a brow at the two boys who looked away quite quickly when they met the older boy's gaze. He turned back to you for a quick second, replying quietly to your previous comment. “Maybe…”

You crease your brows and look over at the pair of boys as well, “What—?”

“Oi!” Fred hollered at the two third years, making the entire room snap their heads over at the sudden boom of a voice. You blew a piece of hair away from your face in exasperation, giving the other students apologetic looks for the commotion.

“What are you blokes whispering about?” He called out, making the third year on the left burn bright red.

You poke Fred's arm when you saw the poor boy's face, not deterred by all his muscles underneath his own sweater. “Fred, stop bothering them."

The same boy looked away from you two, swallowing thickly while his friend pursed his lips in an effort to not laugh at the current situation. While the rest of the room went back to what they were doing, Fred continued to watch the pair, waiting for a response from either one of them.

Finally, after the two boys whispered back and forth—for Godric only knows how long—one of them spoke up, making the red-head beside you perk up instantly.

“Nothing important.” The teen on the right said for the sake of his friend, waving a dismissive hand in your general direction. “Just trying to figure out how to ask this girl out."

The second you both heard those words come out of the boy's mouth, you looked over at Fred who was already looking back at you with a grin that could only be described as smug.

You sighed, knowing you couldn't do much to stop whatever Fred planned on doing. “Freddie, don’t—“

He stood from his spot on the couch, hands placed on his hips like he suddenly knew the answers to everything in the universe. “Luckily, you’ve come to the right man—“

“—Boy—“ You quipped from his side as you followed him to ensure he wouldn't do or say anything stupid.

“Shut up.” Fred half-heartedly pushed you to the side, still catching you when you stumbled over your feet. He stuck his thumb in the other teen’s direction, “Anyway, who does he fancy?”

You roll your eyes at his antics and give them a warm, reassuring smile, hoping it would take their minds off whatever foolishness Fred has in plan. “First, what are your names?”

“I’m Oliver, and he’s James.” The boy on the right said tentatively, the one on the left—which you both now knew was James—nodding in agreement.

Fred clasped his hands together and nodded mindlessly, keeping his eyes trained on the boys. “Alright, I’m Fred and she’s the pain in my arse—“

“Can you focus?” You groan and shove him to the side, laughing loudly when he threw you over his shoulder to get you to stop interrupting—although the two of you knew it was hopeless.

“Oliver, who does James fancy?” Fred asked, ignoring your calls and protests.

You continued to wiggle yourself free from his grasp, huffing when he held onto you tighter. At that point, the rest of the Common Room gave you odd looks, making you flush a bright pink in slight embarrassment.

Oliver opened his mouth to speak, hesitantly as he stared at you and Fred in concern and confusion, unsure what to do in the situation. “Uhm… He fancies this girl in Hufflepuff named Lila—“

You gasped and hit Fred hard in between his shoulder blades, earning a groan as he dropped you from his arms. You spun around and gave James a soft look, knowing exactly who Lila was. You had tutored her last year in Potions—and based on your five minute interaction with James—the would be the perfect pair.

“She’s really bright and gifted in Herbology.” James says softly, making your heart ache at how he spoke about Lila in adoration.

“Have you tried to ask her out before?” You ask and watch him fidget with his hair.

He shakes his head, eyes darting away from your face toward the ground. “I’m too nervous.”

After recovering from you sudden attack, Fred clapped his hand on James’ back, ruffling his hair when the boy looked up at him. “Don’t be, you look handsome and clearly you’ve got the brains for it.”

In an instant, you saw an increase of confidence in the thirteen year old, making you grin at the sight. Maybe Fred being nosy in other students’ conversations wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

You watched for another second before murmuring something to Fred about finally finishing your Charms essay, giving the two boys one last smile. Before you left for the couch, Fred subconsciously pressed a kiss to the top of your head, knowing you were leaving even though he barely listened to you as he continued to speak to the younger students.

“Ask her out to a picnic by the lake or in one of the outdoor gardens—Not Hagrid’s, of course. That would be a nightmare.” Fred clarified with a small smirk decorating his face, leaning back on one of the armchairs behind him as the boys listened intently.

“Thanks, I’ll ask her tomorrow after class.” James replied with a new found determination in his voice.

Finally snapping out of his small trance, Oliver switched his gaze from Fred to your spot on the couch, tilting his head with a raised brow. “How did you ask your girlfriend out?”

Fred copied his facial expression, turning his head to follow the boy’s eye line when they landed on you. He poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue before clearing his throat, waving a dismissive hand in the air.

“Oh, we’re not dating.”

“Sure seems like it.” Oliver crossed his arms and raised both brows this time, judging Fred like he was a liar. “You can’t give out advice about dating without having a girlfriend yourself.”

“My advice is fool proof!” Fred blurted, almost baffled that a thirteen year old accused him of spreading false information—though he has done that multiple times before to everyone he knew

“Then how come you don’t have a girlfriend?”

Fred opened his mouth and shut it, putting his index finger up toward the boys before turning and walking over to you. He stood in front of you with his hands in his front pockets, waiting until you finished your thoughts on the essay before speaking.

“Did you know people think we’re dating?” He said quietly, earning a wide-eye look from you. Based on your reaction, you probably didn’t know either. “Yeah, weird. Those two boys thought we were dating.”

“That’s the weird feeling I was getting in this room.” You say as you twirl your golden charm necklace between your fingers, looking over at the two boys who suddenly looked guilty and mischievous at the same time. You raise a brow and look back at Fred with a small smirk, making him grin back.

“Can you imagine the shock on their faces if they believed it took you two seconds to land a girlfriend?”

Fred bent over by the waist, lips mere centimeters from yours. “And what do you have in mind, Faucett?”

Your smirk widens before you pull him in by the collar of his sweater, lips meeting his faster than anyone could have expected it. As if someone flipped a switch in Fred’s mind, he quickly reciprocated, hands coming up to cup the back of your neck and cheek.

For a second, the two of you were completely immersed in each other that you didn’t realize that—once more—the Gryffindor Common Room stared. This time, they stared only for a brief moment before looking away. It seemed like everyone expected it since the moment you both walked into the Common Room together on any Sunday evening.

You separate after the kiss that lasted longer than you both thought it would last, the two of you slightly out of breath, but still wearing eat-shitting grins at fooling the two third years in their small corner. Fred glanced at them from the corner of his eye, winking at Oliver specifically when he stared with a gaped mouth.

“That’ll be the best piece of advice they’ll ever get.” You laugh quietly as Fred plops down beside you, resting his chin on your shoulder and wrapping his arm around your abdomen, warm against your skin under the sweater. “You’re not going back to those two boys?”

“Nah, it’ll ruin the fun.” He drawled and looked up at you with his pretty brown eyes, pressing a lingering kiss to your shoulder unexpectedly. You looked down at him and raised a brow, waiting for an explanation from the one Weasley you liked a little more than the others.

“So, you? Me? Next weekend? Hogsmeade?” He asked with a confident smile, twirling a piece of your hair in between his index and thumb.

You bite back a smile and pat his cheek, his own smile never wavering. “You really know how to make a girl feel special, Weasley.”

“Is that a yes?” He questioned, looking between your eyes.

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” You say as you go back to finishing your essay, not caring for the blush that rose to your cheeks.

You and Fred have been friends since first year, but it never crossed your mind that you could ever be in the relationship everyone assumed you were in. Not until this year. It felt like you clung to every single word he spoke to you this time, and it felt so different.

All the pranks he would plan with Lee and George was always relayed to you, every gift he planned to give to his family members went through you—you were practically his without officially being his.

“I plan for many things, Faucett.” Fred moved to sit properly and dragged your legs back on top of his lap, messing with the embroidery on your jeans. “But I never planned on someone like you kissing me just to mess with two thirteen year olds.”

“You went along with it.” You clarify, knowing damn well that he also wanted to prank the two teens. Besides, it’s not like it was your first time kissing Fred. Not at all.

Your gaze meets his, “So what, you actually want to take me out on a date now?”

“Yep.” He continued to grin and trace the embroidery.

You carefully tuck away your Charms essay once more, continuing to hide the smile that came with the thought of going out with Fred Weasley. “I guess I’ll go on a date with you.”

Fred didn’t even know his grin could get bigger, but it did. He pulled you as close to him as he could, arms wrapped securely around your waist as he tilted his chin down to meet your eyes. “You say it like it’s a bad thing.”

“You are bad news.” You laugh and melt into him when he pressed a kiss to your forehead. You raised a brow at him, “Never planned huh?”

“Nope.” He popped his syllables with a smile so bright you swore the sun would shake in it’s presence. “Never planned.”

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[daryltwdixon]

chapter 10

series masterlist Summary: In the time between when he took you to now, something changed. His hands grew gentler. Your fear turned quiet. And somewhere in the stillness, love kindled. || angst & fluff, violence, blood and gore, main character death, animal death (im so sorry), Pre-Boston QZ, Stockholm Syndrome, slow burn, raider!joel, captor!joel, homestead, kidnapping, dark themes, I also just learned what whump means so we're including that too || a/n: this is unlike anything i've ever written, and this is the scene the entire story was written around. please heed the warnings as this is a very heavy chapter. sorry to those who wanted to see joel kicking ass, he does it but you can't see bc im so bad at writing action lol / yes the formatting is intentional. yes i know it hurts. please be kind in your comments, I'm just a baby

It all happened very fast.

And yet it felt like it was all in some horrible, mind altering slow motion.

The handlers at the edge of the clearing let go of their leashed infected like hellhounds surging forward, screams and snarls excited by the sudden noise. They ran into the clearing as gunfire cracked through the trees. Your vision didn’t catch up with it all until Joel moved, turning on the spot and shoving you hard toward the porch, yelling for you to Run!

You stumbled up the steps, heart jackhammering, the world turning into sound and chaos behind you. You crossed the threshold, barely turning the knob with your sweat slicked hands, and were halfway through the door when you felt something rushing past you in a big, furry blur—

Samson.

He shot around your legs with a burst of movement, all muscle and fury, teeth bared as he tore toward the sound of Joel’s voice, toward the chaos.

“No, Samson!” you cried, reaching too late.

The dog vanished into the fray just as the door slammed behind you, Joel still outside. You could hear the crack of his revolver now that he’d reached the porch steps, but there was no time to dwell. He told you to hide, to get into one of the rooms, to lock it behind you.

And so you did– you turned and ran, nearly tripping as you flew through the house, ducking into the first bedroom and throwing the lock shut behind you. Your breath came too fast, too thin, lungs barely working as you collapsed to the floor and backed up, feet sliding across the floor until your spine hit the old radiator.

You sat against it gasping. Hands fumbling, you reached for the knife in your pocket, flipping it open with a trembling thumb. You stared at the blade, its cold, familiar edge waiting for the threats that screamed outside the house.

Your heart slammed into your ribs like it was trying to punch its way out. You stayed locked in that room, pressed to cold iron at your back, while Joel fought outside. While Samson tore across the dirt, brave and loyal and so, so stupid.

And you—what were you? You felt like a child hiding beneath the covers, a coward with a blade she barely knew how to hold. You told yourself you’d be ready, that you’d be strong when it mattered. But now that it was here, you were trembling alone, praying as if that alone might be enough.

You sat there with the knife clutched in your fist, pressed so tight your fingers had gone numb. The room felt like it was shrinking, the edges blurring, and the only thing keeping you grounded the rhythmic pound of your own heartbeat slamming against your ribs. The radiator dug into your spine, but you didn’t move. Your mind wouldn’t let you.

And after a while of only being able to hear your own blood roaring in your ears, you realized the chaos outside had gone quiet.

No more shouting. No more gunfire. Just a hollow, buzzing silence. Your ears strained, clinging to any sound, but all you could hear was the rasp of your own breath and the thud of your pulse in your neck.

Maybe it was over. Maybe Joel had driven them off. Maybe he’d already be climbing the porch steps, bloody but alive, Samson at his side, ready to take you into his arms and tell you it was done.

Please, you thought. Please let it be done.

Then came the sound of shattering glass.

You flinched hard, knife jerking in your grip, nearly falling from your grasp, but you kept it tight. Somewhere outside the door, a window had broken, the sickening crunch of splinters and shards spraying across wood. You could hear footsteps, but— no, not quite footsteps. A scraping sort of noise, a slapping of feet, wet and off-rhythm, stumbling too fast, like something wearing a human body but not quite knowing how to use it. You got up, slowly crawling to the door, and pressed your ear to the wood.

You could hear the ragged breaths, those waterlogged lungs breathing in the air of the house. It was a low, starved, inhuman rattling of breath.

Your blood froze.

No. No, no, no, no—

But then, there was more. A padding of movement suddenly on the glass, the infected screaming at the sound of it, and a snarl matched it, loud enough to travel through the door and shake the walls of your heart. And you knew. Knew who it was. Samson’s bark echoed through the house, sharp and feral. He was after it. That sweet, dumb, brave boy had gone after the infected. You heard his claws scraping against the floor, the snarl in his throat, the heavy thump of his body throwing itself toward the thing that dared to trespass into your home.

Samson’s voice, if a dog could even have one, went raw and ragged, erupting into a series of snarls and screams so violent they didn’t even sound like him anymore. And as you pressed your ear harder to the wooden door, the sound of him rattled around your skull like a loose train over rusted tracks. You felt it in your bones, could hear the wet thud of bodies hitting wood, the skitter of claws trying to find purchase on the floor.

But worse than that, worse than a dog fighting for its life, fighting for your life is that high, shrill, gut-wrenching cry that cuts clean through the noise and leaves silence in its wake. It shattered you—froze your lungs mid breath.

And suddenly, when your lungs filled again, it wasn't with air, but with cold, burning dry ice fury. You realized you didn’t care that you could die, that if you opened the door, there was a strong possibility of a nightmare on the other side.

You ripped the door open, slamming it on its hinges. The creature turned unnaturally fast, all instinct and no humanity. As soon as it saw you it lunged, and its body collided with yours so fast it knocked the air from your chest. It was heavier than it looked, wiry and wrong, all muscle and hungry hungry hungry. Its hands clawed at your shoulders, jaws snapping inches from your face, bloodied teeth gnashing as it screamed that shrill, inhuman sound right into your skin.

You hit the wood floor hard, but the pain didn’t matter. All you could feel was that earth-shattering vehemence—the kind that made your blood churn and your vision blur. A scorching ice storm tore through your veins, wild and merciless, for your dog, for your home, for this sacred little life you had carved from the dirt with blood and sweat and aching hope. Anger for Joel, who had fought tooth and bone to keep you safe. And as the infected’s face loomed closer, snarling, breath rank with rot and death, all you could think of was him. Joel. Your Joel. The man who thought he was no good, who still stood between you and the fire, who was out there now, doing just that. You hoped he was still breathing. You prayed. And as you prayed for his life, you screamed and sobbed and thrashed beneath the weight of that thing, your hands searching with desperation. One found its jaw and shoved, just enough to shift its balance, just enough to move. The other rose like instinct, like fury given form, and drove your blade up through its mouth, straight into the soft ruin of its brain.

It collapsed on top of you all at once, heavy and lifeless, and still your sobs came wracking, splintering through your ribs, aching deep in your chest. You shoved it off with trembling arms, gasping as you scrambled backward, until your spine met the cold, comforting iron of the radiator once again. You pressed against it like it could hold you steady, like it could anchor you to something that still felt like home.

By the time your breathing began to steady, your body came alive with reality. You ached in places you hadn’t even felt the impact. Your skin prickled with heat and cold in turns, a clammy sheen sticking to your neck and chest. A buzzing sensation crept through your limbs, like your nerves were trying to fire all at once. Just the adrenaline wearing off, the shock. 

But as you waited there and the silence thickened, your heart began to beat harder again, not with panic now, but with fear. Real fear. The kind that settled into your bones, the kind that felt like knowing. Where was Joel?

As if your prayers were suddenly answered, you heard the front door open, accompanied by low and steady footsteps padding through the front room. But then, that instinctual part of you that was responsible for keeping you alive shot a flare of panic through you. You clutched the blade tighter, heart thudding like a war drum in your throat. What if they had found you? What if they’d killed Joel and they were coming to finish you off now?

The footsteps were slow and uneven, floorboards creaking under their weight as they got closer. There was no voice, no words, just the echo of boots and the soft drag of an undeniable limp.

You saw the shadow looming closer to the doorway before his familiar, big, rough hand pushed the door wider and stepped through. He was looking down at the body on the floor, the blood that was pooling around it, before looking up at you.

Joel.

His shoulders filled the frame, blood smeared all over him as his face was drawn pale and utterly familiar. He held his hand against his side, cuts all down his face and neck from the fight. For one fleeting breath, your soul unclenched. He was alive.

But then he stepped forward, and your breath caught like a fishhook in your chest. Your spine went stiff.

“Stop,” you gasped, “Don’t— just stay back, don’t come any closer.”

Your hands came up between you like a barrier, shaking but firm, with eyes wide and glassy. His boots halted on the threshold, and for a moment, he looked like he’d been shot. Your pulse skyrocketed again, fear icing your veins and blood rushing to your ears. You couldn’t tell if the light headedness was from being forced to the ground in the attack or the panic that thrummed through you now.

“What—?” he began, stepping forward again, both of his hands reaching, open and supplicating.

“Joel!” you shrieked, scrambling and keeping your hands up, one with the knife still clutched tightly, “I said stay back!”

He stopped cold, breathing hard, and for a moment, something flickered behind his eyes, something more painful than all the cuts and bruises and wounds on his body. You wondered, then, if he remembered the way your voice echoed the same way against the walls when you demanded for him to let you go all those months ago.

How that felt like such a far, far away dream now.

Your chest heaved, skin feeling lit on fire, feeling like it was screaming, wanting to peel away from the inside. The adrenaline was fading, and what was left behind felt like flames in your blood.

“What happened?” he asked, void of softness and gentleness now. 

You didn't answer. 

Instead, you reached for your shirt, bloody fingers pulling at the collar, and shifted it aside.

His eyes dropped, and all the color drained from his face as he exhaled every ounce of air left in his lungs, “Oh, Christ.”

It was as if his entire demeanor crumbled in front of you. He remained standing, but his face fell into an awful, splintered, painful look of grief, so pure and immediate. Like the pain was so sharp it gutted the breath from him.

You watched, frozen, as he sank to his knees in front of you, looking at the angry, blistering red bite on your shoulder.

“Baby…” he breathed, voice cracking on the word. It nearly shattered you then and there.

“I’m sorry,” your voice broke, lips trembling as tears blurred your vision. You looked at him, at this man who had lost so much, survived despite it all, and fought so hard to feel again, now sat in front of you unraveling.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, a useless whisper, “Is Samson…?”

He closed his eyes, answering only in the way his jaw tightened, his head dropping forward with a silent sigh.

You let out a strangled sob, knees curling into your chest as it hit you all at once. The dog, the bite, the way Joel picked his head up and looked at you like he couldn’t bear to breathe without you.

He began to crawl forward, reaching—

“No!” you cried out, jerking back so violently your shoulder throbbed with pain against the radiator behind you.

“Please,” he said, breath stopping in his lungs, “Don’t do this.”

“Stay back Joel,” you warned again, voice stern and barely holding together, “I mean it.”

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. 

He shook his head as if trying to wake from a nightmare, eyes locked on you with that same desperate ache that once made you fall for him,

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you whispered, voice small and broken. 

“I don’t care.”

He pushed forward again, steady and unstoppable, like he’d decided if this was it, he’d meet it holding you.

You shoved at his chest as he got close enough, dropping your knife with a clattering to the floor, “No! Joel, stop! I said no—I don’t want to hurt you!”

But he was stronger, always has been. And now his arms wrapped around you, holding you like he’d try to keep you tethered to him, to the world.

You still shoved at his chest fruitlessly, sobbing as he said, “Stop fighting me, please, baby, just—just let me hold you.”

He didn’t flinch against your weak punches, he didn’t move, just held onto you tighter, soothing you with soft whispers, “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

You were shaking, every part of you trembling like your bones wanted to come apart when finally your hands stopped fighting him. Like whatever had sunk its teeth into you was burrowing into the deepest parts. But Joel’s arms never loosened, if anything, they held tighter, his hands splayed across your spine, touch heavy and grounding.

“Please,” you whispered, though you didn’t know what you’re asking for anymore. For him to go. For him to stay. For this to not be real.

But Joel just pressed his lips to your temple, to your hair, to the damp skin at your hairline. Again and again and again. His breath stuttered against your scalp as he kissed you like a prayer, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you through touch alone.

“It’s okay,” he breathes, “It’s okay. I ain’t gon’ leave you.”

You let out another sob, quieter this time. Less wild, the panic still there, coiled tight in your chest, but it dulled beneath the weight of him, his body anchoring yours, his voice soft and sacred.

Your hands gripped the front of his shirt now, no longer pushing, just holding, clutching fabric like a lifeline as your head sank against his chest. His scent wrapped around you, that firesmoke burn, the smell of sun kissed leather and something undeniably him. The most familiar thing in the world.

You cried into him, hiccuping as his hands slid up your back, one cradling your head, the other splayed wide over your spine. He didn’t tell you to stop, to breathe. He just held you, steady and unshaken, as your whole world caved in.

“I’ve got you,” he said again, barely more than a whisper.

You lifted your eyes to his as your sobs slowly began to fade, your breath still stuck in your throat. His hand came to your face, cupping you so gently, so softly you almost started to cry again. Your hand came up in return, fingers red with blood, cupping his face back.

“I’m s–”

He shook his head, cutting you off, “‘Nough of that, please,” he whispered, hazel eyes pained and aged, “This ain’t your fault, baby. I’m sorry I wasn’t here in time. I should’ve…I could’ve…”

It was turn to cut him off, but this time you leaned up, kissing his lips so, so gently. 

You pulled away just to meet his eyes again, and they glistened, but no tears fell from them. 

“I love you.” you whispered.

His mouth pulled together in another tight frown, chin wobbling, his hand petting your hair over and over like he was trying to soothe the both of you.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” he whispered to you, kissing you back. His mouth was shaking, breathing uneven as his lips molded to yours.

He eventually lifted you off the ground, carrying you with the intent to make your way to the bedroom. But you stopped him suddenly as you came into the main room, your hand finding his chest.

“Will you…” you looked over at the chair, old and worn by the empty hearth, “just one more time.” you whispered.

His hands tightened around you, and he nodded, “Yeah, alright.”

He set you down, not before making sure the moth-eaten blanket was down so your knees were comfortable. He began to bring over the firewood, pushing it into the hearth and getting it lit. The warmth was welcome against your clammy skin, your blood beginning to heat and make your skin rise in goosebumps.

When the fire was lit, he moved to sit behind you, and called to you.

“Come here.” His voice commands. Though it’s…soft. Not cruel, not mean.

Not anymore. 

It hasn’t been in a long time.

You move without hesitation, the old floorboards warm beneath your skin as you settle in front of him. The fire in front of you reminds you of everything that’s come before this. The first day, when every snap of the burning wood made you flinch, uncertain and raw. Of each quiet meal shared in the hush of survival, each pot of water boiled for a bath, a kindness, a ritual.

It glows now, steady and golden, casting both of you in ribbons of amber and shadow despite the afternoon sun still reaching through the windows. And for a moment, it feels like time has folded in on itself, like you're still there at the beginning, and somehow at the end all at once.

Joe’s old armchair groans when he shifts, knees spread, a hand already reaching. His fingers are warm and gentle when they gather your hair, undoing your braid. The brush is missing bristles after all this time, its wood worn soft. 

He doesn’t speak. Just parts your hair, gently combing through it in slow strokes, smoothing it back from your damp temples as if this were just another morning, not the end of anything.

With each stroke, your body melts more and more. When the brush catches slightly on a knot near the base of your skull, to the side of your neck where your skin throbs and screams, you flinch slightly. Your breath hitches, the pain searing through you. Slowly, he pulls the knot free, keeping your locks away from your shoulder, and you exhale, your eyes locked on the flames.

When he finishes, you don’t move right away. Just sit with him in the hush, the fire casting flickers of gold across your faces. Then, quietly, you turn toward him, not yet reaching, though every part of you aches to. 

“Joel,” you say, soft as breath.

He doesn’t answer right away. His eyes are fixed on the fire, like he’s been staring into it for years.

Then he blinks and looks at you with silent reverence.

“You promised me,” you murmur, voice tight with everything you’re afraid to say. “You promised that if—”

“I know.” His voice breaks like a snapped branch. Just those two words, and already it sounds like the weight of them might crush him.

That’s when your hands move. Shaking, you cup his face, thumbs brushing over his thick beard, the roughness of his face. His eyes shut hard, lines deepening across his face as if he’s trying to hold something back. His hands find your hips, pulling you closer until you’re leaning into him, flushed against his chest.

You lean in, resting your forehead to his, and for a beat, neither of you speak. There’s just breathing—yours fast and shallow, his slow and unsteady.

“There’s so much you don’t know,” he whispers, “so much I could’ve shown you. I should’ve taken you away from here when we had the chance, taken you far—”

You kiss his lips gently, only brushing against him to silence his anguish, “Stop,” you whisper, “Everything you’ve done, everything we’ve done…it’s been…I never thought I’d have a life like this Joel.”

He kisses the corner of your mouth, pulling you into him completely, his head tucking into the crook of your neck. After a moment, his hands wrap around you, and he lifts you into his arms.

You curl into him automatically, arms wrapping around his neck as he carries you. Your cheek presses against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as you breathe him in. Sweat, firewood, the faint scent of your soap still lingering in his shirt from the last time he washed it. The smell of home.

He carries you to the bedroom upstairs and lays you down like something sacred, like setting you down too fast might shatter you. The covers rustle around you as he tucks them in tight, one hand smoothing over your arms, your chest, as if he could keep everything from unraveling if he just holds you close enough.

You’re trembling now—harder. Your skin burns, sweat trickling down your temples despite the way your teeth chatter.

He slides in beside you, wrapping his arms around your shaking body, cocooning you in the warmth of him. The way your body interlocks with his, chest to chest, belly to belly, your arms around his waist and his around your shoulders, your head between his jaw and shoulder. It couldn’t be coincidence, could it? You were meant for this. To be here, with him. To be held by him. Like your bodies had always known how to find each other, like they'd been waiting their whole lives to remember.

And for a few minutes, there’s nothing but silence. His heartbeat thuds steady and strong where your palm rests against it, your breath stuttering in your chest.

But then the dizziness starts.

The edges of the room blur. The floor tilts. You shut your eyes tight, trying to force it away, but it doesn’t stop.

Joel feels it and he shifts, hand sliding to your cheek, tilting your face toward his. “Hey. Hey, look at me. What’s wrong?”

You try to speak but your tongue is heavy and throat thick. “I feel…” you breathe, voice shaking as you shake your head, “something’s happening.”

Your eyes flutter open, vision swimming, but he's right there, face close, eyes wide and scared.

“I can feel it,” you whisper. 

Joel swallows hard. You can see it in his throat the way his jaw clenches, his hand flexing against your back like he’s bracing for impact.

“You have to,” you say, voice breaking. “Joel, you promised.”

“I–I…” he says, the words stuck in his throat.

“I can’t be one of them. I won’t. I won’t hurt you.” You try to keep your voice steady, but it fractures, your lip wobbling as tears rise fast. “Please.”

He doesn’t respond. Just stares at you, his face lined with pain, his mouth pulled tight like he’s holding in a scream.

“I always wondered,” you whisper, “how much of the person is still in there. In those first moments. When they’re still… runners. The way they sound, Joel…when they’re screaming and crying while tearing into someone. Do you think it’s the real them in there? Watching it all?”

Joel shakes his head slowly, his eyes steady on you, “I don’t know,”

“If I turn… if I see myself hurting you… if I know it’s happening and I can’t stop it—” Your voice cracks and you cover your mouth as a sob punches out of you. “Don’t make me live through that, Joel. Please.”

Tears stream down your cheeks, warm and silent, soaking into the pillow beneath your face. You don’t even feel them anymore. Your whole body is pulsing with heat, the fever blooming beneath your skin like wildfire.

Joel doesn’t speak right away. He just pulls you into him like he’s trying to fuse your bodies together—his arms crushing around you, chest to chest, heart to heart. He buries his face in the curve of your neck, breathing you in like he’s trying to commit it all to memory.

“I won’t let nothin’ happen to you, baby,” he murmurs, voice thick, shaking, lost. “I promise. I promise.” It sounds more like a prayer than a vow. Like he’s begging God for more time, even though you both know it’s run out.

Your body shakes in his arms, but slowly, the violence of your cries dull. His warmth seeps into you again, grounding you for just a few more moments. Just enough to open your eyes and look at him, your lashes heavy, breath shallow.

Your voice is barely more than a whisper when you say it for the second time.

“I love you,” you whisper. “I don’t say it enough. I didn’t tell you how you saved me—how much of my life has been because of you. And I want you to know... even after everything, even now—I’m yours. I’ve always been yours, Joel.”

His throat works, his eyes shining. He nods, just once. Like that’s the most sacred thing he’s ever been told.

“And I’m yours,” he says in return.

You both fall quiet again.

For a moment, there’s peace. Just the rhythm of Joel’s hand on your back. The warmth of his chest against yours. His mouth brushing your forehead, your hairline, the corner of your eye. He kisses you like he’s trying to chase the sickness from your skin, as if he could just hold onto you hard enough, it won’t take you.

Your breath stutters. The heat becomes unbearable—coiling in your stomach, your spine, spreading through your limbs like liquid fire. Your fingers twitch, and at first you barely register it. Just a flicker, a reflex.

But Joel goes still.

You feel the shift in him. His breath catches, his hand falters.

Another twitch. This one stronger as your arm jerks, your leg following. Your muscles pull in ways you’re not asking them to.

No. No, not yet.

You force your eyes open. The room spins and blurs around the edges, but Joel’s face is there, close and stricken. Your vision swims, but you find him. You always do.

“Joel…” you whisper. It comes out garbled, slurred, like your mouth doesn’t quite belong to you anymore. You can’t stop shaking. Your hand fists in his shirt like an anchor, like maybe he can keep you here if you just hold tight enough.

His voice breaks as he leans in, as his hands cradle your face. “I’m here. I’m here, baby. I love you. I love you, I love you—”

Your limbs jerk violently. Your jaw tightens until your teeth grind. Your head lolls forward, then back. A low groan builds in your throat—not yours, not really, but it comes from you all the same.

Still, you feel him. Hands on your face, his lips at your temple.

“I love you,” he’s whispering, again and again, panicked now, broken. “I love you, I love you—”

You try to find him again. Just one more time. Your fingers claw weakly at his shirt, but you can’t see his face anymore. Can’t see anything through the blur and fire and blood pounding in your skull. There’s only heat, only screaming inside your veins.

You don’t hear the whisper of metal against cotton, the shift of weight as he reaches for his knife.

You’re somewhere else in your mind, through the fire and the heat. Lost in the noise, the tearing of your own mind. In the last fragments of what made you you. Like sinking below the surface of a lake in winter—frozen on top, black and endless underneath. Your mind is a room with all the windows shattered, wind howling through the broken panes. You're still there, somewhere in the wreckage, but your body is a distant thing, just meat and memory.

But you can hear him, from somewhere above the frozen ice in your mind. Joel’s voice moves back through the static like warm water through it, slow and thick, muffled at the edges but still his. Still him. It trembles, low and wrecked, but it reaches you, finding some last corner of your mind not yet taken. 

“You’re okay. You’re so good. So good, you hear me?”

You think you try to nod. Maybe you do.

“I love you,” he says, as if it’s the last time he’ll ever be allowed to speak it aloud. 

“I got you. I got you.”

You want to tell him it’s okay. That you’re not scared anymore. That he made this life feel like something real. That even if it was short, even if it ends here, it was still worth it. Because it was him.

But you can’t. Your lips won’t move.

And his voice starts to drift, the edges blurring like it’s being pulled back into that darkness, that lake. 

Then, with a quick pressure to the back of your skull, there was nothing.

No darkness.

No light or sound or warmth.

Nothing.

As if someone pulled the cord to the stars.

taglist: @orcasoul, @ilovetoomanymen, @niceforcum, @glaszdoll, @therewastherewas, @axionn, @aleariixx, @izzy698, @shivispunk @demonsasss, @pedropascalsbbg, @urlivingdeadgirl, @televangrl, @mani-pedro, @erska777, @samarav, @levlli, @harriedandharassed, @tomie-it-girl, @streamermattsgf,@uravitsy, @lostinthestreamofconsciousness, @umadirectioner, @quistals, @cinnxmxngxrl, @ithinkimaslutforharry

[moonstruckme]

i saw your requests are open again! maybe you’d consider weiting a follow up on that awfully cute college au lily x reader story? maybe lily is late to the date or smt but its all cute and fluffy?

just an idea and no pressure!

have a lovely day!

Thank you, hope you're having a lovely day too ml!

cw: non magical uni au, written with the 70s in mind except there's no homophobia

part 1

Lily Evans x fem!reader ♡ 694 words

You leave your class for the last time this term in a fugue. Names and definitions run through your head on a tired, neverending loop, but the opening of the doors as students flood from the building feels like your classmates letting out a collective breath. It’s a kaleidoscope of sunlight and voices and movement, and so you perhaps can’t be blamed when Lily has to call your name more than once for you to hear her. 

She’s nearly made it to you when you turn. Flushed cheeks and glittery eyes, she looks genuinely happy to see you. That pop rocks feeling starts up again in your middle. It’s a warm day, and Lily’s shoulders are out for the sun, revealing freckles scattered like fine powder down her arms and over her collarbones. 

“Hi,” you say, surprised. 

“Hi.” Lily presses a cup into your hand, leaning in to kiss your cheek. Heat radiates outward from the touch of her lips until you’re quite sure you’re aflame from the tips of your ears down to your chest. “How was your exam?” 

“I feel like it went okay,” you murmur. Shy in the way Lily’s so good at making you. You look at the cup wet with condensation in your palm. “Is this for me?” 

“Mhm.” She brushes a piece of hair behind her ear. “I thought you might like a reward after your last exam.” 

You have to bite down on your lip to suppress the full magnitude of your smile. It pleases you beyond belief that Lily knows your drink order. You’ve only had one date—and you weren’t entirely sure if it was a date for most of it. You’d talked yourself into believing it to be a simple thank-you for taking notes for her while she was asleep during your exam review. Lily might have only been a touchy person, playing with your fingers atop the table while you chatted over coffee. She probably smiled that way for everyone. She seems the outgoing, friendly sort, so it likely didn’t mean anything that she’d asked you if you fancied a walk after your drinks were both long emptied, and kept talking with you until the sun sank low over campus. 

You haven’t seen each other since then. You’d nearly convinced yourself that you were right and Lily was only being kind out of a sense of gratitude, but now here she is. 

“You remembered when my last exam was?” you ask. 

It’s gorgeous, the sweet flush that spreads across Lily’s cheeks. Your heart pitters. “Yeah,” she says, halfway to bashful. “I mean, it’s not so hard to listen to you, you know.” 

Your smile fights harder to be unleashed. You’ve been so occupied in being made nervous by Lily, you didn’t realize you held the power to make her nervous in turn. It’s thrilling. “You’re sweet,” you tell her. 

Lily’s blush worsens. “Did you—are you tired after your exam?” 

You hum. You’ve begun walking together unthinkingly, meandering through campus. “I woke up early to go over my notes one more time.” You take a long sip of your drink and sigh. “I hope it was worthwhile.” 

“I’m sure you did well.” Lily’s hand wraps around the crook of your elbow, nudging you closer so that your shoulders bump. Her fingers feel like electric sparks skittering down the inside of your forearm. She says secretively, “You’re brilliant.” 

Now it’s you hot in the face again. Back and forth, like a tennis match. “We’ll see,” you mumble, shrugging. 

Her fingers link through yours, squeezing. “You want to go home and rest?” 

“I don’t know.” You glance at her. Unsure of what she’s asking, or if she’s waiting for you to ask instead. “I might.” 

“Can I walk with you?” 

“Please,” you blurt. You and Lily both flush now, the evidence of hers visible and blatant. You’d pity her for how reactive her skin is, if only it weren’t so satisfying for you to look at. You think you both know you won’t leave her waiting outside once you get back to yours. 

“Alright,” says Lily, still glowing red and yet confident despite it. “I will, then.” 

[yup-thats-me]

—Jelly • K. Hongjoong

⋆˙⟡pairing: bf!Hongjoong x fem!reader ⋆˙⟡summary: ❝It wasn't your plan to run into your old crush before a date with your lover. but you couldn't lie, seeing the evil squirrel getting jelly did feel nice❞ ⋆˙⟡warnings: none ⋆˙⟡a/n: had fun writing this. lmk how you guys enjoyed it :3

₊˚⊹𐙚°｡⋆♡

"Joongie," You ask, mischief sparkling in your eyes. "Are you jealous?"

And Hongjoong turns, eyes boring into yours. "What if I am?" he asks quitely. "God forbid a man gets angry that some asshole tries flirting with his girl."

You giggle, hitting him lightly. "Babe," you manage to say between laughs. "He was not flirting with me."

"Uh, pretty sure he was," he pointed. You smile, poking his cheek.

Hongjoong being as busy as he was, it took him a really long time to plan this date with you.

Coming home to see you fast asleep on the couch because you stayed up late waiting for him, keeping away from him while he worked, only giving him coffee for breaks and stole small pecks, it pained Hongjoong.

He too wanted to hold you close and eat dinner together, have long talks about life and nothing at all. So when he finally found a day off in his schedule before the tour starts again, he spent days meticulously planning each and everything for today.

What places you'll visit, the restaurants booked, outfits picked beforehand. All of that for to chat with your old crush for twenty minutes.

"Joongie," you start, pouting. "Why are you so mad, though? I'm yours and pretty much the entire world knows that."

Hongjoong turns, eyes boring into yours.

"Its not about that, Y/n!" He pouted.

Running into a crush from school was not in your plan. Having bumped into him in a coffee shop, all those memories came flooding back. The days you had spent researching for his favorite color at school, sneaking peeks while he played basketball. The man was a catch, you'd give him that.

But Hongjoong had not failed to see how the now-irrelevant-guy's jaw clenched when you introduced the singer as your boyfriend. Hongjoong snaked his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Giving the man a tight smile, he offered his hand.

"Kim Hongjoong, nice to meet you."

And you could sense something shift in the air. What you didn't see was the two men had each other's hands in a death-grip, jaw clenched. As they parted, their hands were red.

As you talked, the guy tried several times to get your number on the pretense of ''catching up." And maybe you would've given to him if not for his request of meeting you alone. Without your lover who's right beside you.

Being you, you nudged Hongjoong lightly as you gave him some made-up number on the spot. Those days have passed. He means nothing now. And if you did in fact want to catch up, you could do it with your other friends.

Hongjoong couldn't lie, he did feel a surge of pride when he saw how smoothly you handled the situation.

But now alone with you beside him, the producer now realized that he still could lose you. In his mind, you can still leave him after four loving years sent together. No matter how many times he tells himself that you won't, the brain is such a thing that does not know to shut up.

He spoke after a long period of silence. "...Would you have gone with him if I wasn't around?" His voice slow and meek.

You shake your head. "You think?" You say, smiling gently. "He's history, my love," hands clasping with his.

"He was and is just a girlhood crush. You, darling," your hands caressing his cheek. "How could I leave someone so wonderful? You're my life, don't you know that?"

The sincerity in your voice made it impossible to not meet your gaze. Breathing softly, Hongjoong brushes hair out of your face, pressing his lips to yours.

And before you could react, the man is leant back on his seat, smiling smugly.

"At least give me a warning!"

do not copy, steal or translate my work on any other sites. All rights belongs to yup-thats-me© on tumblr

⋆. 𐙚 ˚reqs are openᝰ.ᐟ

[em1989ts]

𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐭. 3

five hargreeves x fem! reader smut

part one. part two. masterlist

word count: 3.5k

summary: it would be unsafe of you and five to have unprotected sex in the apocalypse, but luckily you find a condom while scavenging, giving you both just the excuse you need

contents: smut, characters are 18+, protected sex, grinding, enemies to ??

author's note: i've been adding like 20 words a day to this fic for months but now i finally sat down and finished it up so yippee hope you enjoy, also i know condoms expire, let's just pretend they don't, also i didn't proofread before posting cause i just want to get it out there but hopefully it matches it with the first two lol

That night was simply instinct. You weren’t thinking right. Because if you were, you wouldn’t have done anything remotely close to being intimate with the likes of Five. 

Maybe it was because you were desperate, that him being the only man left in the world ruined your standards, but you couldn’t get the thought of his touch out of your deprived mind. 

The two of you woke up that morning with limbs completely entangled, yet without a word you separated and proceeded your day as normal, like nothing out of the ordinary had occurred the night before. 

He immediately began his attempts at fixing the ripped tarp, to prepare for the windy night ahead, ruffling through the stashes of supplies to find whatever could mend it together efficiently. 

His face was concentrated, seemingly completely focussed on the task at hand. You didn’t happen to notice the moments his hands would pause due to being so lost in thought he couldn’t resume motion. 

Occasionally he would sneak a quick look over at you, currently fixing together whatever you could find in your rations to create a suitable breakfast for the two of you. Before, he would only look to make sure you weren’t mixing anything inedible into his portion (something he wished he’d done before he almost swallowed a rusted screw you had put in his oatmeal), but now, he was only looking at you. 

He’d never wanted to look at you in any way other than disgust, your behavior had always overshadowed your appearance, but his bias couldn’t overcome the fact that he was incredibly attracted to you. 

His father had given him and his siblings “the talk”, in an elaborate lesson on sexual education, so he was very aware of the consequences of unprotected sex. It was too dangerous to attempt it in the apocalypse, and he doubted any form of protection had survived the end of the world. He would have to live out the rest of his life here in this dreaded wasteland with his fist as his only form of satisfaction. 

~~

While you made breakfast, you too stole glances at Five, waiting for him to possibly say anything at all about last night. 

You thought after using each other t̶o̶ g̶e̶t̶ o̶f̶f̶  for warmth that maybe things would open up between the two of you, at least a bit. Once you had actually thought about it, that might’ve been the only time the two of you had actually touched each other without trying to cause harm. You blame your human instincts on your need to feel him again. You didn’t realize how badly you missed physical touch until you were wrapped in his arms, feeling him all over. 

Now, you craved him, you needed him. 

Maybe you couldn’t have him inside you, but you’d find a way. 

~~

Breakfast was quiet that morning. There was no back and forth bickering, snide remarks that the other couldn’t help but start an argument about, just utter silence. 

Five inspected his food, there were no nails or rocks mixed in with the old porridge packets you’ve rationed, and it didn’t smell metallic or chemical, so he ate it as slowly as a starving man could. 

Rations were running low, having not left the base much due to the freezing cold, but the weather had cleared up, and the sun was shining bright. The snow had already begun to melt from the burning rays, clearing up the streets slightly, so the two of you would just be able to drag your wagon through to scavenge nearby. 

Five meticulously set up this current base in a spot where there were several convenience stores and gas stations within a couple miles in every direction, you couldn’t help but give him credit for his well-thought planning. 

Today, the plan was to head south for at most five miles and bring whatever the two of you can fit in the wagon back to the base. The most important items you two had to search for were food, water, and anything you keep you both warm. 

You took your bowl along with Five’s and tossed it with your other dishes, while he got up to grab his coat and the wagon which the two of you had been using as storage in its dormancy. 

“This isn’t a beauty pageant,” Five commented rudely, waiting by the base’s opening for you to put on your coat when he noticed you fixing up your hair, “It’s not like you would win, anyway.” 

He expected you to glare at him, slap him, and tell him how you’d win against him any day of the week, but you didn’t. 

You tied off your hair, brushed a few fly-aways out of your face, and walked right past him and out the base. 

He didn’t expect that, and he definitely didn’t like it. 

Once he figured you weren’t going to wait for him, he quickly grabbed the handle to the wagon and followed your path. 

He watched as you walked in between the smashed up vehicles, eyeing the compass from time to time, paying zero attention to him.

What was your problem? You’re too good to fight with him now? Was that it? Too good to pay any mind to whatever he had to say? 

It wasn’t like you could ignore him forever, he was the only other living being on Earth after all. He would get you to talk eventually, he would get you to refer to him in a way that wasn’t just a matter of survival. 

~~ 

The sun was bearing down on you harshly, yet the wind was ten times worse. The bandana over your face protected you from the sharp bite of the cold, but your eyes burned from their exposure. A new, unventured gas station was just up ahead, yet with the conditions you were walking through it might as well have been a planet away. 

As you were walking up the driveway, Five following suit with the empty wagon, you gazed inside the dark store. “Shit,” you grumbled, noticing the rather significant burn marks along the walls, the peeling advertisements on the glass windows, “This place burned pretty bad.” 

Five couldn’t tell if you were talking to yourself or if you meant to direct your complaints at him. Either way it was progress. 

“Let’s just see if there’s anything salvageable,” he responded, motioning his arm to insist that you head inside first, only for you to let the door slam shut in his face. 

You started examining the state of the store, walking past the register to see the wooden countertop charred, yet intact. He entered, pulling the wagon behind him and immediately heading the opposite direction, towards the wall of drinks. The glass doors of the refrigerators were cracked and blackened, yet they seemed to have done a good job in protecting the drinks, which were in perfect condition. He immediately dropped the handle of the wagon and drank from one of the waters on the shelf, refreshing his dry, aching throat. 

Meanwhile, you had begun making your way through the aisles, noticing he was busy precisely placing as many bottles of water in perfect rows in the bed of the wagon. Unfortunately, many of the snack options had been burnt to crisps. You walked in between the first couple aisles, filled with nothing but ash and remnants of cardboard, picking out anything edible and carrying it in your arms, not wanting to make a trip to the wagon.

Once you got to the middle aisle, you noticed that it must have avoided the worst of the flames, because there were several items still perfectly intact hanging from the pegs. Luckily, there were several packages of ibuprofen and antacids, as well as a large supply of first aid materials like bandages and ointment. While you crouched to the ground and filled your pockets with the useful materials, you scanned the aisle for other items that could be deemed useful. There were lip balms of a variety of flavors, razors which Five could never have enough of, eye drops and cough drops, and one more thing that stopped you. Your hand paused right before it wrapped around the items in the box. As your brain had caught up with your motions, you registered what it was — condoms. 

You allowed your hand to move again to inspect the small, square package. It was pristine, with not a scratch on the box. It felt almost awkward to hold, embarrassing to inspect, as your face flushed a few shades brighter. You knew what it was, of course, but a part of you assumed that every last condom on Earth had been destroyed, crushing the possibility of you ever having safe sex in this unsafe world. Now that you held one in your hand, that small hope that Five could give you what you wanted, and so desperately needed, was reignited. However, you would rather be all alone in this apocalypse again than face Five, holding up the form of protection as if it were your savior, and ask him to fuck you. You would rather die than face that embarrassment. 

“Find anything?” 

His voice appeared out of the blue. Or maybe it didn’t. 

Maybe you were just too lost in your own head to notice how he’d peered his head into the aisle to see you so deeply in thought, holding something you had found in your hand. 

Maybe he had gently dropped the handle of the wagon to the floor, and made his walking quietly to stand behind you, as your peripheral vision seemed to be long gone as well. 

Maybe when he noticed what you had in your hand, it all clicked for him. Your problem wasn’t that you were too good for him, it was that you were too horny for him. You were so bummed out about the fact he couldn’t risk being inside you while you were dry humping each other into oblivion that you were ignoring him entirely. He looked down over you, barely believing the fact that you were so out of it at the possibility of being able to fuck him. 

He couldn’t blame you. He himself was ecstatic, with only a smirk and slightly larger bulge to show for it. 

When he finally spoke, it shattered your thoughts, abruptly pulling you from your inner turmoil. 

You jumped, dropping the condom and almost dispersing your collection of items across the tile floor. Instead, you quickly stood up, tossing your items into the wagon, and walking off without a word. 

~~~

The walk back to the base was agonizing. The sun had gradually set, cooling the Earth once more, leaving the two of you to freeze. The tips of your nose and ears were red and numb, even your hat and bandana couldn’t protect you from the harsh winds. 

You hadn’t spoken a word to Five, although he hadn’t tried to make conversation either. He found it hilarious that he could see your scowl, specifically through your furrowed brows above your bandana, yet you couldn’t see the grin under his. 

Once you finally made it back to the base, you immediately took the wagon from his grasp and pulled it over to your rations, where you began going through everything you’d scavenged. After a few minutes of concentrated sorting, you looked over your shoulder to see Five standing there watching you work. 

“Did you need an invitation to help or..?” you sarcastically said, his silence aggravating you. 

He lowered his bandana and began removing his gloves, “Oh, so now you want to talk.” 

You scoffed, resuming your work, “I’m sorry you missed my voice so much, I didn’t realize how much you crave my attention.” 

He walked over to the collection of clothing the two of you keep close to the rations and tossed his jacket, hat, and gloves on top of the pile. 

You were worried. Usually when the two of you fought he looked violent, angry, like he hated exchanging insults with you. Now, he looked far too amused, raising your suspicions. 

He laughed under his breath, ignoring your previous claim as he leaned against the concrete wall and stared at you. 

You had completely lost concentration on what you were doing, turning your focus to Five. “What’s funny?” you asked, clearly not getting what was so amusing to him.

“How much of a brat you are when you don’t get your way.” 

That one sentence lit a fire of pure anger in your eyes, a flame that he’d missed more that he’d like to admit. 

He stalked toward you as you stood up, already gearing up to smack the shit out of him. 

“I’m not-” 

“You are,” he interrupted, stepping closer while continuing to taunt you, adding fuel to the fire. 

“I am not-” 

“You are. You’re mad you don’t get fucked so you decide to shut down and-” 

Before he can finish his sentence, your hands are already on him, shoving him till he stumbles backward in an attempt to regain his balance. In an immediate response, he pushes you back in retaliation, only for you to shove him over with all your might. 

He falls backward and lands on the very edge of the makeshift bed. Your gaze is filled with rage, face flushing with anger, until you see what fell from his pocket as he hit the bed. 

A condom. 

The small box that you had dropped when he confronted you in the aisle, he had picked up and hid in his pocket, bringing it back to the base with him. 

Your shoulders dropped, breathing fast as you looked up at him. 

He was now leaning back on his elbows on the rough blankets, smiling up at you with that smug smile he always wore when he was right about something. In any other case, you would have wanted nothing more than to smack him black and blue, wiping that smirk off his face. However in this scenario, you found a more efficient way to occupy his lips. 

Immediately, you rushed forward and crashed your lips onto his. He pulled you between his legs, wrapping his arms tight around your torso, and leaned backward fully until you were both horizontal against the bed. 

This wasn’t like the last time you kissed. 

Last time, kissing was a last resort. It was that little bit of sensual connection you both needed to push you both over that very edge of pleasure. 

Now, it was only the beginning. It was messy, desperate, and greedy as the two of you swapped spit and swirled tongues. Your hands held the sides of his neck as you pulled his face against yours, while his gripped your waist like he was afraid you’d disappear if he ever let go. 

He moved one hand from your waist to push up off the bed, sitting up and pulling your legs around his waist. He dipped you slightly, holding you firmly against his chest with one arm to lean down and pick up the condom, all while keeping his mouth firmly against yours. He placed it down next to him, bringing his hand back to your body, unzipping your coat and tossing it aside. 

The long sleeve shirt came off next, as you unwillingly separated yourself from Five’s lips, lifting yourself up to sit on top of him, hands pressing down on his chest, pinning him down to the bed. 

In the heat of the moment, after stripping each other completely bare, feeling the chill of the breeze that crept through the cracks of the base brush your skin, you had completely forgotten you had ever been upset with this man. Any rage you’d previously felt when you looked at him, completely vanished. Your hatred towards him was gone. 

Now, you were straddling the waist of an angel. A beautiful, masculine angel laying underneath you like he was a gift from God, sent to save you from this hell on Earth. 

His hair was played out around his head like a halo, grown shaggy, yet there was barely any stubble decorating his face. His skin was flush and fair, eyes perfectly dilated as they looked up to you, bare above him.  

His hands moved from your waist to your breasts, toying with you as he listened for your soft gasps, hips jolting against his at every spark of pleasure. The only items of clothing separating the two of you now were your underwear and his boxers. You laid back slightly, leanly against his bent knees for support, and grinded your core against him, feeling your warm slick soaking through the fabrics between you. 

His groans were heavenly, his head leaned back, enjoying the pressure from your hips, mindlessly twisting and pulling at your nipples, eliciting whines from you. 

He began to lift his hips to meet yours, increasing the friction and stimulation to your core. His eyes met your face, eyes lost in a daze, your face blushed and concentrated on reaching your high. 

Just before you could reach that high, about to topple over the very edge, he pulled you back down against him and flipped you both over. 

That was when you remembered he’s still the same man you’ve been stuck here with. A man who is a completely selfish asshole that the only physical contact you want to initiate with him is a smack right across his smug face. 

“Are you fucking kiddin-” He cut you off with a strong kiss, which he didn’t break as he removed the condom from its boxed and peeled open the wrapper. He pulled away and sat on his knees, bringing his sexual education lessons back from his memory and placed the condom on correctly, before lining himself up with your entrance and leaning back over you, lining his face up with yours. 

“You don’t have to do this,” he assured you. 

This might have been the only time you witnessed him acting like an actual, decent human being. And while you appreciated the gesture of consent, you couldn’t wait any longer. 

“Five,” you breathed out, eyes pleading, “I need it.” 

And with that, he slid himself between your folds a few times before carefully pushing in. You thought his fingers were big last night, but now with his cock barely halfway inside you, the sensation was mind numbing. Your arms wrapped around his back as he filled you up entirely, barely audible gasps filling his ear. He stilled once he was all the way in, concentrating heavily on not immediately spilling into the condom, ruining this entire moment, but the way your cunt squeezed around him, not wanting to let him, made it very hard not to break. 

After a moment he slowly began to move, pulling out slowly, before pushing right back in, somehow feeling even deeper as he hit a spot deep within you that sent a wave of pleasure over your entire body. 

He buried his face into your neck, sucking and biting in the sensitive skin, as your hands moved up to thread through his hair, tugging gently. 

Once the both of you got used to the feeling, he began moving faster, getting rougher. With each thrust into you, he groaned out into your ear as you met his movements with the same force. It was animalistic, greedy, intimate, you felt so close to him that you were practically melting into each other. 

When the thrusts became erratic and the whines and groans grew higher in pitch, it was clear neither of you could last much longer. He met his lips with your, barely touching, just enough to let his moans mix with yours, just as they had last night. His hands reached to grip your hips, pinned them down, allowing him to piston into you, chasing you to the edge as you let go around him. 

Your eyes squeezed shut, head leaning back, giving him access to continue marking your neck. The sensation from you cumming around him undid him, as he finally groaned into your neck and spurted into the condom, his hips finally spurting to a slow stop. 

He collapsed on top of you, his weight grounding you back to reality as you realized what just happened. After a moment, he slowly pulled out, removing the condom before immediately laying on you once more. With his cheek pressed flat against your collarbone, his breathing steadied, quickly falling asleep with a strangely unfamiliar look of peace expressed on his unconscious face.

This time around, you weren’t sure what this changed between the two of you, but you decided it could wait. 

You two had all the time in the world after all. 

~~~

tags: @lveegsoi @aureliariddlehargreeves @groovydazephantom @lovingyeet @venture-venus @greek-girl-dreams

[snowstormarts]

Can you write a Yandere Eddie and Volt x Homeowner who is in a relationship with someone else*not a Dateable/object* and is planning to propose to them inside the house

First DE Yandere promt, ooh I couldn't wait to write for this one tbh. Especially since it's with two of my favorite boys, my own Yandere Headcanons can wait a little longer xD Also I got sick so it might take me a while longer to post fics, promts & co, sorry about that

Likes & Reblogs are appreciated, my inbox is open for Requests & Asks

"Our love can't be denied, so stop struggling"

[Yandere!Eddie & Volt x GN!Reader][Divider Credit]

[⚠Warning; Yandere Content, reader dosent have a good time Minors DNI⚠]

It started after Volt saw you walk through the doors of the Breaker Box. Something in his chest sparked to life at first he couldn't place it, whatever he felt it was intense. It craved you, demanded you to stay here forever, far from anyone else who would try and rip you away from him. And yet at the same time it lusted for your happiness, just imagining you being sad broke his heart and made his fingers itch with the need to claw at anyone who dared to make your smile disappear.

He only realized what it was exactly after a few regulars started teasing him, saying that any time he saw you walk in he would B-line it straight towards you like a clingy puppy or a love obsessed teen.

He was in love with you, not the regular kind of love he had experienced before. This was more intense, it was pure, obsessive love for the one who had caught his heart in a vice grip. And he wouldn't have it any other way, he was yours and you were his even if you didn't know it yet. He was sure you would come around soon.

And so whenever you visited the Breaker Box, Volt would not hesitate to greet you with a kiss to the back of your hand and his regular "It's always a pleasure to see you, Live Wire~" You saw it as a simple friendly yet somewhat charming gesture but to him? It was anything but friendly, it was a claim, so everyone knew you were his and he wouldn't share you with anyone else...Well maybe he would share you with one other person, his other half, Eddie. He was sure it wouldn't take long until you melt the walls around him and catch his heart for yourself as well.

True to his words it didn't take long for Eddie to join Volt in his growing obsession with you. All it took for him was that one moment, that short moment where you fell into his arms. You fit perfectly into his hold, how you clung to him as smiled, the light blush tempted him to just kiss you right there and then. You had sparked something in Eddie that he thought he would never experience again but here he was now, walls melting as he imagined your future together.

So now whenever you walked through the doors of the Breaker Box Volt would come over to greet you with his signature hand kiss and bring you to the VIP area. Sometimes Eddie would be there waiting for you, other times you would meet him after the show and on rare occasions both would join you before the show started. You never really realized how they looked at you with this burning hunger, the desire to have you for their own, to pamper you and keep you 'safe' in a their arms. Keeping away anything and anyone they thought could harm you, in the end you only needed them and nobody else, right? They knew how to treat you right, you would never want for anything as long as you were with them. They would fulfill your every wish no matter how small or big, if you wanted you could even insult them, scream at them as you lay your hands on them. They would need to reprimand you verbally but that's it and in the end they know you will come back to them. Kissing them and apologize for your outburst and they would forgive you, they always do.

To them the mere idea that you could do anything wrong was nonsense. If you were angry it was of course because someone provoked you and whoever did this would get a stern, hands on talking to from both of them. If you're sad, they won't hesitate to comfort you and ask whats wrong. If it's person, they better pray that the boys feel merciful and let them get away with a new set of broken bones and some electricity scars. Are you feeling overwhelmed and just want some peace and quiet? Don't worry they will be sure to guard you and keep everyone else away from you unless you say otherwise. Anything you want they will make sure you get it, even if it takes weeks or months of their time or money, seeing you smile is all they need.

But then one morning you walked into the Breaker Box, they were still busy with cleaning up the place, so Eddie was about ready to yell at whoever walked in to get out. Only to stop shortly after seeing you in such a chipper mood, a small blush covered your cheeks as your fingers fidgeting with your clothes non-stop. It was an adorable sight that made Eddie's mind spiral and jump to the conclusion that this was it, you were about to confess your love to him.

'This is it, isn't it? You're so adorable when you're nervous, Live Wire. Will you also confess your feelings to Volt? Or are you just here for one of us? Would you change your mind if you knew who we truly are? Would knowing it make you excited or make you freak out and never come back to us?' Eddie's mind came to a stop as he saw Volt walking towards you two, probably to greet you like he usually does.

But it never got to that point, you didn't even notice Volt was there frozen just like Eddie as they heard about your plan. You wanted to propose to your partner, in the safety of your home and it needed to be perfect. You asked them to keep the power steady, you had it all planned out, a nice dinner under some fairy lights (you refused to have Scandalabra there), a fancy meal made with the help of Stefan as you shared a light conversation and when the time is right, you would go on one knee and ask them to marry you.

Their eyes met and you could feel the sudden tension rise between you three, the smell of ozone filled the air as Volt walked closer, standing right behind you. Caging you against the bar that Eddie had just finished cleaning.

"Oh, our mischievous, Live Wire. You know we love you and would do anything for you, right?" Volt's electric hair brushed against your skin as he leaned in closer. You nodded hesitantly, not wanting to risk making the situation even more tense then it already is.

"Then you must know that we love your teasing and jokes, they light up the place even more then you usually do." You tried to turn your face towards Volt but Eddie had other plans, he leaned closer and kept you in place so you could only see him and his cold, yet caring grey eyes.

"Then you must also, surely know that this goes a bit too far even for you, don't you think? Making up a partner who you want to propose to? Did you want to make us jealous for neglecting you the last three days or did someone set you up to this? Was it the stupid lamp with another one of his challenges?" Eddie asked, clearly annoyed at the thought of Lux having yet another challenge that he wants to try out and hooked you in again.

You shook your head "No, no Lux has nothing to do with this, well they did say they would help me with some preparations and set the mood but nothing else. No challenges or trends, just a friend wanting to help me out...Also what do you guys mean by 'making you jealous'?"

Volt hummed, his fingers tapping against the bar as Eddie continued to talk. "Well we were quiet busy with the Breaker Box in the last few days, a sudden influx of customers who all wanted unique drinks and another large group that wanted to socialize exclusively with Volt. We barely had any time to catch our breath let alone spent some time with you, so it only makes sense that you wanted our attention but couldn't ask for it for some reason. Did we scare you or hurt you somehow, little light?" Eddie's voice was filled with concern, his hold loosen as he gently ran rubbed your cheek with his thumb.

"Guys, you didn't hurt me or scare me, really. I know this place can be busy sometimes and I'm ok with that, there's always another day to see you two. I'm not some jealous friend-" All of a sudden you could feel the tension rising once more, the smell of ozone intensified making your stomach churn as a light spark tickle your exposed neck.

"Friends? Is that all what you really think we are?" Volt asked, your body was screaming for you to flee from here. To lock the door to the Fuse box or to throw the Dateviators away and never look at them again but even if you wanted to follow through on your bodies warnings, you couldn't.

Volt was behind you with his arms blocking your left and right side and even if you did duck under his arms and run towards the door, there still would be Eddie. Who could easily run after you from behind the bar and catch you, so you had to be sneaky, play along until the right moment strikes where you can deactivate the Dateviators and escape.

"Aren't we just friends? Or do you guys like...Secretly hate me?" Play dumb, hope they get so worried that they focus more on explaining themself and then you can 'comfort them' once their guard is down, it will be your time to strike.

"No, we could never hate you little spark." Eddie replied his hands sliding down towards your own but you quickly pulled them away, refusing to look at him.

"Eddie's right, Live Wire. We could never hate you, for you have won over our hearts. You have both of us in a vice grip, we would do anything for you...Well mostly everything, a few things we could never do, even if you asked them off us."

You turned to face Volt, curious about what they wouldn't do "And what are those things?"

Eddie and Volt looked at each other, it felt kinda of intimate, like it's something you shouldn't watch but at the same time you couldn't look away. Not to mentioned the growing ozone smell that was starting to make you feel queasy, the quiet didn't help either it only intensified your anxious mind, so you were grateful when finally one of them decided to speak up.

"We will never hurt you or scare on purpose." Eddie started, you wanted to reply that they were making you anxious right now but before you could Volt continued to speak.

"We will always love and protect you, no matter how small or big the threat is."

"We will make sure you're happy here, we will give you whatever you want if it means you will stay here with us."

"And most important of all..." Volt and Eddie suddenly spoke at the same time, sending a shiver down your spine as their words echoed in your mind.

"You belong to us, no one else can have you." And then Eddie continued to speak while Volt started to pepper kisses against the back of your neck. "And if anyone tries to steal you away from us then we simply have to make them go away. You belong to us and we belong to you, Little Spark. So please just accept our love and we can forget about what you've said about that supposed 'partner' of yours."

You couldn't answer, this was no longer some misunderstanding between friends. No, you knew what this was, you were caught between two, love sick yanderes who would do who knows what to have you...But it's also the perfect moment to get their guard down and give you an opening to strike.

"...You promise you will forgive me?" Both of them nodded, as you let your hand rest on the side of Eddies face which he immediately nuzzled into. "Then I will gladly accept your two's love for me and all that is included with it, no take backs now boys."

It took a while before their guards went down, you were showered in kisses and sweet nothings as they told you how long they had loved you. How they had watched from afar not wanting to overwhelm you or push you before you were ready to confess your true feelings for them but growing ever more impatient.

You nodded along, saying your own sweet words and joking with them until you saw an opening. Faking a yawn you stretched your arms high above you and you lowered them, you struck. Your hand flew to the Dateviator ready to throw them against the wall (sorry Skylar) if it meant getting away from those two. But just as your hand brushed against the cool metal frames, your wrists were caught and slammed down onto the bar.

Biting back a hiss of pain you glared at Volt while trying to free your hands from his steel grip, you even considered trying to bite him for a moment. But that didn't guarantee he would let you go, more likely then not he would simply switch to let Eddie hold your wrist. Not to mention the electric shock you could get from biting the literal embodiment of electricity. So you put that plan on the back burner, only using it if you get desperate but for now you choose to speak your mind, you were tired of all this.

"Listen up you two, let me go now! I don't wanna be here, I'm tired, I'm scared and quiet frankly I am loosing my patience with both of you!" All you wanted right now is to get away from them and talk to your partner, you just needed to hear their voice.

"We're sorry, Live Wi-"

"Dont." You snapped at Volt who recoiled from your harsh words and a glare that would even make a Tiger quiver in fear. "I wanna go back into my room, please..."

Everything was quiet, it felt lime an eternity to you before one of them finally spoke up and broke some of the tension in the room.

"We can't let you go, little spark" Eddie whispered, his hand running through your hair in a comforting gesture, that did anything but comfort you.

"We will have to keep you here until we...Fix that little 'friend' issue of yours." Volt murmured against your ear. "Now tell us, wheres your phone? We need to have stern talk with the one who thought they could steal you from us, Live Wire.'"

It felt like a bucket full of cold water was just dumped onto you, you wiggled from side to side, biting Volt's arm in a desperate attempt to escape. Ignoring the pain that rattled through your teeth, you didn't even want to think what they would say or do to your partner.

A hand grabbed your jaw and pulled you harshly to the side, you could taste the familiar taste of metal against your stained teeth.

"Fuck, Volt are you ok?"

"Don't worry about me, Eddie."

"Don't worry? They just bit you, for all we know it could get infected!"

"I will go to Farya after we've dealt with our Live Wire here." With a defeated sigh Eddie nodded and turned back to you, clearly pissed but yet his obsession kept him from lashing out on you.

"Don't worry little spark, we know this isn't how you usually are. We forgive you but don't do it again or else we will have to punish you. Maybe we should visit your dear 'partner' of you misbehave once again and show them that you are ours."

"And if they don't listen? Well, let's just say that every home has electricity, it would be a real shame if something happened to your 'close friend' right, Live wire?~" Volt grinned, his hair sparked wildly and you knew that there was a clear threat.

"So answer us, Live wire" their voices mixed together once more. "Do you love us?"

[writingoddess1125]

The Gremlin

Simon Ghost Riley x GNReader

Bored and Sick so quickly wrote this Goofy Shit

never proofread-

Kofi

Masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley was not one to talk about his personal life...

• The man was a brick wall with occasional dry jokes that seemed to randomly be blurted out.

• However there is one thing he has mentioned off hand a few times which always caught TF141 ear-

• The Gremlin-

• The first time was when the team was on a stakeout- When a novelty pillow could be seem that their target was lugging around. Simon giving a huff before mumbling-

"The Gremlin would like that.."

• Of course the team asked what the hell was 'The Gremlin'?

• But Just as fast as he had spoken, he had shut up about it once again.

• However he occasionally would mention them-

• Some ankle biting Gremlin that sounded like as much of a blessing as a curse to the LT.

• Everyone assumed it was like a dog or cat-

• Especially since whenever he mentioned them he would often mumble something before he would pocket something random.

• But they were wrong-

• All very very wrong

• It was Kyle of all people who found out about you.

• Having gone to a little novelty store in London- to waste his latest check

• Kyle was only there seeing how they had a new release of some games and Pokémon cards he likes to collect. Having it always best to go to this particular place since Scalpers missed it.

• He hadn't expected for while he was mid shopping and getting his latest price a Sandshrew that he had been eyeing to see his LT standing just across the store from him- with a person next to him??

• A er- Unique person at that? The jumper they were in wasn't the most flattering either seeing how it was well worn and loved-

• Like the crusty pajamas someone would wear at home- Not in a store in London or next to a Military man like Simon

• Who currently had his arms crossed like a big angry bear and lazily looking at you jumping around at a display excitedly.

Simon raised a brow as he looked at whatever the hell had caught your interest this time-

"This is a new one-" He huffed as he raised a brow at your newest little hyperfixation-

"Yeah, I saw it trending on Tumblr and think it's really interesting- That and.. You're not listening are you?-" You deadpan seeing Simon eyes glaze over ever so slightly as he chuckled and shook his head.

"Ya know I don't know about this artsy online sh't-"

A pout going over your lips as you poke a finger on his scarred cheek.

"Yeah and I don't care about Manchester United-"

"Manchester City.. Manchester City not United. There is a differ-" He stopped his mid rant when he saw your shit eating grin at having hit his own little hyperfixation.

"Touché"

The two of you giggle at this as you go back to examine the display case excitedly.

"Why don't you just get it Lov-"

"It's fucking expensive Si"

Rolling his eyes he hands over his wallet to you.

"Take the Card you fucking Gremlin...Get whatever this is-"

• Gaz jaw couldn't help but let his jaw drop a bit as he heard that last little bit-

• THIS WAS 'THE GREMLIN'!?

• The Gremlin was a person..

• Worse yet the Lieutenants spouse-

• After short bickering between you two, You fold and skip off with his wallet to go pay for the things you wanted- Leaving Simon waiting with his arms still crossed and shaking his head with a smirk on his lips

• Gaz who was still in a bit of shock trying to process what he had just saw realized he was still staring..

• Simon felt he was being stared at and caught Gaz who jumped at realizing he was caught.

• The air was now incredibly awkward as Simon looked over Gaz sharply as if trying to figure out why he was there..

•However that question was fairly quickly answered when he looked to his hands.

• Gaz felt his face warm a bit as he saw the man look and seeing the impressive stack of both video games and some Pokémon cards piled up in his basket and a single card in his hand with a plastic sleeve over it.

• Simon stared at Gaz, His face unreadable but his eyes said it all-

'Not a Fucking Word-'

• Gaz gaze a soft nod, shuffling a bit were he stood as he slid to the side to also go pay for his things.

• Feeling Simon watching him like a hawk to make sure Gaz got his shit and left.. Which he did so as fast as possible- and ran out of the store as well.

• Internally he was wanting to rush to the team to tell them about you-

• This crusty ass person who was raiding a novelty store and had the Infamous 'Ghost' at their fingertips

Or

• Keep his lips sealed-

• One of which protected him from suffering the wrath of the man who could probably throw his black ass off a roof without a second though

...

• Yeah fuck that- He's keeping his mouth sealed on this one..

Besides

• Now he has an excuse to go to the Novelty store more and maybe just maybe even make a friend without death included if he was smart...

Only If you like Pokémon cards...

[linxnnalyn]

May I ask for Zoey with F!Reader where Reader is from a "rival" girl group like k/da or black pink? Rivals to Lovers style?

Zoey falling for fem! reader who is from a rival group

࣪𖤐.ᐟ note -> ZOEY OMG MY LOVEEE !!

࣪𖤐.ᐟ warnings -> none.

࣪𖤐.ᐟ content includes -> fluff, sillies idk man, rivals to lovers, reader is also a rapper and a lyricist.

۫ ꣑ৎ Zoey and the rest of the HUNTR/X didn’t expect to have another rival group soon after the Saja Boys but here they are. Thankfully you and your group aren’t demons so they don’t have to fight for their fans' souls and the world again, but losing fans is still a big threat to them, so HUNTR/X takes the new group very seriously because the world still does depend on them.

۫ ꣑ৎ While she does admire your rap songs Zoey does not back down one bit. Both of you are rappers and you are rivals which means that the two of you often write diss tracks about each other, but neither group ever performs them. Zoey and you only rap the diss track songs when in rapping competitions that you two “happen” to be there at the same time.

۫ ꣑ৎ It doesn’t take long for Zoey and you to just focus on your own rivalry, completely ignoring the other members and dedicating each diss track to just each other rather than the whole groups like before. You two even started to actively seek each other out to enter rapping events to battle against each other. Something even the fans started noticing. And then the shipping started.

۫ ꣑ৎ She would watch the ship edits and compilations of the two of you for hours on end. Zoey doesn’t know why she keeps doing it but she does, and even Mira and Rumi notice it. They tried to talk to Zoey about it but the girl always gets flustered and denies anything. As time passes Zoey starts to anticipate seeing you and rapping against you, more than she would admit.

۫ ꣑ৎ Zoey would eventually start trying to talk to you outside of the eye of the public or the rap events, putting aside your rivalry even just for a moment. The more time she spent with you the more she learned about you and seeing you far more than just her rival. Her chest started to get tighter, her cheeks becoming hotter when you get too close to her.

۫ ꣑ৎ She would start writing love songs without even realizing it while thinking about you. The moment Zoey snaps out of her daze she gets super flustered realizing she was writing a love song and destroys the paper. Eventually the notebook where she used to write diss tracks about you turned into a notebook where she wrote love songs for you.

۫ ꣑ৎ Zoey knew what she was feeling, she knew that she was deeply in love (or how she would call it, in deep shit) but she tried her best not to act upon those feelings. Zoey doesn’t want to confess to you just to get rejected, and she doesn’t know how her feelings would even change the current rivalry between the groups, so she went to her friends for advice.

۫ ꣑ৎ Rumi and Mira were honestly not that surprised by Zoey's feelings for you, I mean the signs were obvious. How she would act all slick and smooth around you, the way she would stare at you when she thought nobody was looking and the way she would smile whenever she would write in her “diss track: [Name]” notebook. The two girls were just waiting for her to tell them. They told her that it’s okay that she likes you (even though you are a rival) and to confess if she thinks you feel the same.

۫ ꣑ৎ Zoey listened to their advice and asked you to meet her at one of your regular spots. Zoey bought a bunch of flowers she knows you would like and nervously waited for you to arrive. When you did come she just blurted out that she is deeply in love with you even though she had a whole speech planned. Zoey was over the moon when you accepted her feelings and said that you liked her too.

۫ ꣑ৎ Once the two of you got into a relationship the rivalry between your groups (almost) disappeared so neither of you had to worry about anything with your groups. And it is safe to say that the fans ate it up. Both you and Zoey love watching ship edits and reading fanfictions of the two of you while cuddling during a sleepover. It is also safe to say that your relationship made both groups even more popular.

[maskedbyghost]

last part of toxic ex!Simon Riley x f!Reader

You weren’t even sure what you were supposed to feel anymore, and maybe that was the worst part of all of it, because at least when you were angry, you had direction, something to aim at, something to burn down, but now everything just felt kind of… flat.

You were tired in places you didn’t even know could get tired, your body was carrying weight that didn’t belong to you anymore, and your brain kept trying to replay every fight, every night you waited for him to show up and he didn’t, every time you thought maybe this time, only to realize he hadn’t even noticed that you were hoping.

You weren’t sad, because that part had already happened, that storm had already come and gone and ripped through every soft part of you, and now there was just this… this weird emptiness. This dull ache that sat in your chest.

And the worst part was that you still kind of missed him. Or not even him, really, just the idea of him. The idea of someone who used to know how to make you laugh without trying, someone who used to touch your back in passing like he couldn’t help it, someone who used to say your name like it tasted good in his mouth. You missed the version of him that only existed in your head now, the one you used to imagine was just hiding under all the bullshit if you could dig deep enough to find him.

But you weren’t stupid anymore. At least, not in the same way.

So when the first text came through, just a short, careful message that read: Morning. Hope you slept okay. Don't worry, I’m not expecting a reply. Just wanted you to know I’m thinking about you—you didn’t answer it.

You stared at your screen for a few seconds, heart doing that annoying lurch it always did when his name popped up, and then you locked your phone and tossed it on the bed.

You weren’t going to do this again. Not for a text that took five seconds to type.

And when he sent one again the next day? Same thing.

Made coffee and thought about how you always put way too much sugar in yours. Miss that.

Still no reply.

The third day?

Morning, love. I just opened a cupboard and found one of your hair ties. I held it like a grieving Victorian widow for three minutes. So that’s fun.

You almost smiled at that one. Almost.

But you still didn’t answer.

He didn’t double-text. Didn’t follow it up with a question mark or a “Did you get my message?” or anything that would’ve given you more reason to roll your eyes. He just sent one a day. Always in the morning, and a little nervous, like he was scared you might actually block him again, but was still doing it anyway.

Day after day, for a full week. You didn’t block him this time. But you didn’t answer either.

Because part of you wanted to see how long he’d keep doing it without getting what he wanted. How long he’d be willing to sit in the quiet. How long he’d go before breaking the pattern and asking for more.

And honestly? You didn’t even know what you wanted him to do. You just knew you weren’t going to make it easy.

Not this time.

It had been a long week, and you weren’t even really in the mood to go out, not at first, not when your friends were pulling outfits out of your closet and hyping you up while you just stood there pretending like you weren’t still kind of hollow inside, like your stomach didn’t still do that annoying twist every time you saw his name pop up in your notifications, even if it was just another one of his dumb, soft morning texts that you still hadn’t replied to.

But they didn’t let you stay home. They dragged you out, shoved a drink in your hand, and told you you were hot and you deserved to feel good again. And honestly? After the second drink, after the third song, after the lights started to feel warmer and your feet started to move on their own, you started to believe them a little.

You danced, you smiled, and you let your body move without thinking too hard. And when some guy stepped close and started dancing with you, you didn’t say no.

It wasn’t anything crazy. You weren’t grinding on him or making a scene. You were just letting yourself feel something that wasn’t grief or guilt or the hollow ache of remembering someone who used to know every inch of your skin and now felt like a stranger who texted you about breakfast.

And then you turned.

And you saw him.

Simon.

Sitting at the bar.

Alone.

He wasn’t drinking. There was a beer in front of him, but he wasn’t touching it. He wasn’t watching the game on the screen behind the bar or scrolling through his phone or pretending not to notice you. No, he was just sitting there with his forearms on the bar, that stupid hoodie pushed up to his elbows, and his eyes locked on you like you were the only thing in the goddamn room.

You froze for half a second, caught mid-step, one hand still raised like you were about to toss your hair back and laugh, and your heart just… stopped. Because there was something in his face that made your chest feel like someone had wrapped their hands around your ribs and squeezed.

And he didn’t look away.

Not when you turned back toward your friends. Not when the guy you’d been dancing with leaned in to say something. Not even when your friend grabbed your hand and spun you around, laughing. Simon just watched quietly.

Like he’d seen everything he didn’t want to see and couldn’t look away from it.

You didn’t go over, you didn’t acknowledge him, you just danced. Let yourself move more freely. Let yourself pretend that he wasn’t sitting twenty feet away, like he was reliving every mistake he ever made and feeling every single one of them hit all at once.

And when the night ended, when the music died down and your feet were sore and your throat ached from yelling over the speakers, you walked out into the cool air with your girls, arms linked, laughing and stumbling a little, too tired and tipsy to care.

And there he was again.

Leaning against his car, hands in his jacket pockets, hair slightly messy, that same unreadable look on his face, but softer now, just tired. He’d been waiting there for hours and would’ve waited longer if he thought it meant you’d speak to him.

“Need a ride home, ladies?” he asked, voice low but smooth, but he didn’t look smug, didn’t look flirty. He looked like someone who knew exactly where he stood and was offering anyway.

And your friends?

Oh, they swooned.

One of them leaned in and whispered, “Is that the Simon?” like he was a celebrity instead of your ex. Another one literally fanned herself with her hand and said, “He could drive me home any night.”

You rolled your eyes. But you didn’t say no.

He opened the passenger door for one of your girls, helped another into the backseat, didn’t comment when they giggled a little too loudly or gave you a look that said this is so not over. He didn’t push. Didn’t even try to talk to you, really. He just drove.

Like he wasn’t breaking apart slowly behind the wheel.

He dropped them off one by one, and every time one of them got out, she’d turn and give you a look—one of those do you want us to wait? do you want us to make an excuse? kinds of looks—but you just shook your head.

Until it was just the two of you.

The silence filled the car, awkward and pressing down on your chest until it was hard to breathe. You didn’t say anything. Neither did he. He just kept his eyes on the road, jaw tight, fingers flexing slightly on the wheel like he was trying not to say the wrong thing.

He pulled up to your building and parked, let the engine idle for a second too long.

Then he looked at you

“I wasn’t there to ruin your night,” he said finally, voice rough and low like it hurt to talk. “I didn’t even know you’d be there, swear to God. I just… I haven’t seen you laugh like that in months. I didn’t know if I should feel happy for you or fucking sick.”

You didn’t answer. Didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t come out like a confession or a slap.

So he sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and then added, even softer:

“You looked happy. That’s all I’ve wanted. Even if it’s not with me.”

You still didn’t speak. Your hand was already on the door handle.

But before you stepped out, he leaned slightly forward, not close enough to touch, just enough to say it:

“I’d rather watch you be happy from a distance than fuck up your peace again. But I’m not gonna stop hoping you let me try.”

Then he leaned back, hands back on the wheel. And you opened the door and stepped into the night, heart pounding, head spinning, trying to decide if it was anger or longing or both curling up in your chest.

You didn’t look back until you reached the door to your building.

And when you did?

He was still there.

There were moments when the world slowed down and no one was talking and nothing urgent needed doing, where you’d stop and realize you didn’t actually know how you felt anymore. Some mornings, you woke up feeling like maybe you could move on. Other mornings, you missed the shape of his arms around you so badly you had to physically sit on your hands to keep from texting him first.

And through it all, Simon kept texting.

Every single day.

Not demanding, not pushing, not trying to force a response. Just… there. Sometimes it was early in the morning, sometimes mid-afternoon, sometimes twice a day if he thought you’d had a bad one. And even though you never replied, not once, you read every single one.

Morning. Hope today doesn’t suck. I mean it. Go drink water or something.

Dropped my toast butter side down. Is that karma? Did I deserve this?

Just walked past a couple holding hands. I don’t wanna talk about it.

There was a dog outside the bakery this morning. I told him about you. He seemed supportive.

And you’d always read them.

Eyes rolling, lips twitching, heart doing that annoying little ache that you swore you were done feeling. But still, you didn’t reply.

Not until the bookshelf.

You got home late one night, tired and irritated and already half-ready to crawl into bed and ignore the world. Your bag dropped to the floor with a dull thud, and you kicked off your shoes, not even looking up as you walked toward your room, fully intending to faceplant and scroll TikTok until your eyes hurt.

But then you looked up.

And froze.

In the corner of your bedroom was a brand new bookshelf. Not a flimsy little piece from a discount store. No, this was beautiful, tall and dark-stained, filled with books so neatly arranged you thought you might be hallucinating for a second.

“What the fuck,” you muttered, stepping closer, blinking hard like the furniture might vanish if you stared at it too long.

And then you saw the note.

Taped to the shelf with one of those dumb gold star stickers.

A gift for you. I found your Goodreads account. (Your friend helped me. I bribed her with cupcakes. She’s disloyal.) These are all from your TBR list. Yes, all of them. No, I don’t want to talk about how long I was in that store.

Also, a real question... Did you mean to save the one where the guy kidnaps her and she calls it romance?? Are we not calling the police in these?? Also what is a ‘reverse harem’ and why is there a dragon on the cover?? I’m not kink-shaming, I swear. Just... blink twice if you need help, or like... a stable relationship?

You stood there for a full minute just staring at it, at the books, at the note, and at the fact that he had spent God knows how much time and money finding your unread books and building you a whole-ass bookshelf and then roasting your taste in spicy novels like that would somehow soften the blow.

And then?

Then you laughed.

Like, really laughed. Loud and unexpected, almost wheezing as you reached for your phone and opened his message thread for the first time in forever. Your fingers hovered for a second. Then typed:

I read the smut so I don’t text you ‘come ruin my life again’ at 2am. It’s called coping. Don’t judge me.

His reply came instantly:

Okay, well now I have 4 tabs open trying to figure out why that man in your book liked being stabbed. You scare me. I miss you. It’s confusing…

And that night, you fell asleep with a stupid smile on your face for the first time in forever.

Some days, it felt easier. You could get through a full twenty-four hours without thinking about him every time your phone buzzed, or without letting his name run laps through your mind just because you saw someone wearing his cologne at the store, or caught the tail end of a song he once hummed under his breath while cooking eggs at 2am in your kitchen.

Other days it was still a mess.

He still texted. Every morning without fail, like some broken record that somehow never made you roll your eyes hard enough to block him again. Sometimes you answered, short and sarcastic “wow you’re up early” or a “why are you telling me about your toast again.” Sometimes you didn’t. Sometimes you read his messages and stare at them for too long, and lock your phone before you can type something you’d regret.

Sometimes you laughed out loud when he sent you a picture of a dog in a sweater and said “he said he misses you, not me, just you.” Sometimes you wanted to scream when he followed it with a soft: “I miss you too though. Every version of you.”

You didn’t know what you were doing. Not really. Letting him text you, not shutting it down completely, letting him hang in the doorway of your life like he was waiting to be let back in if you just gave the word.

And today, it all felt like too much again.

So you left your apartment, pulled on a hoodie, headphones in, and wandered out until your feet took you to the park. You didn’t have a plan. You just needed to be somewhere else, somewhere quiet. You sat on a bench near the edge of the lake, watching ducks paddle around, watching couples walk hand in hand, the same aching scene you thought you were done getting crushed by.

But it still hit you.

The soft stuff always did.

A girl sat across the path with her head on her boyfriend’s shoulder while he played with her fingers. An older man helped his wife sit down carefully on a bench, then pulled a thermos from a bag and poured her something hot while she smiled at him like he was the only person in the world who mattered.

It made your chest tight again, that type of wanting that snuck up out of nowhere and sat on your ribs. Not for someone in particular—just for something that didn’t make you feel like you were bracing yourself all the time. Something that didn’t break and beg and promise, only to leave you rebuilding everything from scratch again.

And then you felt it. That weird shift in the air. The kind of awareness you’d only ever felt when he was near.

You turned your head. He wasn’t moving toward you, just standing there a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his jacket, looking at you like he didn’t know whether he was allowed to come closer or not.

You didn’t speak, didn’t wave, but you didn’t leave either.

So he walked over. Sat on the opposite end of the bench, he wasn’t sure how close he was allowed to get, and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

You didn’t say anything for a minute. Just sat there, watching the water.

And then he spoke.

“I’m not trying to win you back in some big dramatic way,” he said, glancing over at you now. “No grand gesture, or some stupid speech. Just… me. Every day showing up and being better. Whether you want to forgive me or not.”

Your throat felt tight, and you hated that.

You hated that your first thought was that he looked tired. Not messy tired, not in a falling-apart way, just like someone who hadn’t had a full breath of air since you told him to leave.

You looked back at the lake, arms crossed over your chest like that would keep anything else from slipping out.

“I don’t know what you expect me to say,” you said eventually. “I don’t have a big answer for you. I don’t even know if I trust you again, or if I should.”

“I don’t expect anything,” Simon said. “I mean, I hope. But I don’t expect. I just wanted to see you, even if we just sit here in silence and you never text me back again. This is enough for me.”

You both sat there quietly, for a long time of nothing but wind and leaves and distant laughter from a kid feeding the ducks with too much bread.

“I still think about it, you know,” you said suddenly, almost surprising yourself. “Everything. But I also think about the nights I cried myself to sleep, and how exhausted I was all the time from hoping you’d show up the way I needed you to.”

Simon flinched a little, like your words landed right where they were supposed to.

“I know,” he said. “I think about that too.”

You let your eyes close for a second, just to breathe through the ache.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” you said, softer now. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to, or if I even want to.”

“I’ll wait,” he said.

You turned to look at him, finally, really looked at him, and he didn’t smile or try to touch you or do anything that would tilt the balance.

He just looked back.

And then you stood. Brushed off your jeans, adjusted your hoodie, and slung your bag over your shoulder.

Simon stood too, but didn’t reach for you.

“I’ll see you around,” you said, voice unreadable.

He nodded. “I hope so.”

You gave him one last look, something tired and unsure but not entirely closed off, then turned and started walking down the path.

He didn’t follow.

And maybe you’d text him tomorrow, or maybe you wouldn’t. Maybe this was a step forward, or maybe it was the start of goodbye.

But either way, for now, you didn’t feel like you were drowning.

And that was enough for now.

----------------------------------------

I left the ending open on purpose because honestly it’s up to you. Maybe she forgives him eventually. Maybe she doesn’t. Maybe she texts him back that night, or maybe she blocks his number the second she gets home. Either way, I wanted it to feel like those unfinished things we all go through sometimes. So whatever ending you pick in your head? That’s the right one.

Thanks for reading. <3

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6 @tessakate @xocandyy @nightfwn @robinfeldt98 @xiisblogs @mad-die45 @readingthingy @actualpoppy @amongthe141 @whore4romance @thatghostlykid @syofrelief @avgdestitute @sheepdogchick3 @echo9821 @imalapdog @foxintheferns @trulovekay @preeyas-world @ruleroftides @rose37373 @succulambb @havoc973 @jajouska @fruitymoonbeams-blog @cece2608

[serenmaxoff]

Hiii I was thinking about Agatha Harkness x reader where Agatha and Reader aren’t a thing yet and reader realize two things: that Agatha seems to get a lot of attention from other woman and that reader has a crush on Agatha. To avoid getting hurt, reader starts to distance herself from Agatha to rid herself of her crush but Agatha is not having it. Can I request it please?

People can be very smart about some things, and completely dumb about others. Doctor!Agatha Harkness x Intern!Reader

Tags: Fluff, wannabe medical information, two dumb lesbians, making out, probably a lot of malpractice and medical misinfo, power imbalance dynamic, "strangers" to friends, friends to lovers. || MEN DNI || English isn't my first language

“Please, please please. You need to ask Dr. Harkness to take you for the practice of tomorrow. I swear she’s going to kill me If I say the wrong thing again.” She makes a pause just to hold you by the shoulders and start shaking you softly. “Besides, she’s been trying to take you on many practices before, if you ask her I think she would even smile! Like a real smile, those where you actually see the person's teeth!”

You groan as you take your hands to your forehead and start making slow movements trying to relax. Kate had been following around telling you how difficult her life was since Dr. Harkness had become her new mentor after Dr. Barton decided to leave the hospital to spend more time with his family after his wife had his third child. 

“You do realize that mostly taking neuro cases paves the way for you to be a neuro, right?” You stop on the mid-walk just to turn and look at her, only showing her how unimpressed you were for the whole situation. “And for your information I’m quite happy taking my cardio cases with Dr. Stark and Dr. Hill.”

“Please just ask for tomorrow practice! I swear I’ll take the next one and accept my fate as her mentee. She’s just so difficult to please, like I could tell her why a posterior communicating artery aneurysm can cause double vision and she would still look at me as if I had said all the vowels wrong. And the worst thi-...” 

Maybe it's time to start believing in God? If he is as merciful as people say he is, he could make it stop, couldn't he? He might even give you an operation to participate in with Dr. Stark as compensation for listening to Kate from the hospital parking lot.

While your head is still trying to find a way to deal with Kate's monologue, your eyes fix on the figure that has just stopped at the end of the corridor. The power she excludes even when she’s just standing should be analize you think. 

Agatha Harkness was a very renowned neurosurgeon in her mid 30’s, after becoming the head of the neurosurgery department, a year later she won the ACP Clinical Innovation Award for creating a procedure that reduced operating room time and improved the recovery of patients with refractory epilepsy, and after that one prize, the others just followed.

She was very famous at a very early age, but that didn’t erase the fact that she was a very strict, reserved and indifferent woman. If it wasn’t related to medicine or neurology she was simply not interested.

Or at least that’s what you would normally say if you didn’t know her better.  

Especially after yesterday. 

“Thank you Ed, I hope she didn’t bother you too much” You say to the man behind the bar. 

“I thought interns only lived for the hospital alone?” He says with a sly smirk making you huff annoyingly. “She’s probably coming back in a few minutes, she wasn’t feeling well if you know what I mean.”

As you sat at the bar waiting for Agatha to return, you began to search in your backpack for the extra sweatshirt you always carried. After several accidents you had learned that it was better to carry a pair of leggings and an extra sweatshirt in your backpack for any situation.

A part of you was somewhere between acceptance and resignation of the closeness and relationship you had with Agatha, but another part of you still wondered how long this kind of relationship with her had developed.

The truth was that it was absurd to even ask yourself that question. You knew better than anyone the moment that had been decisive for the relationship the two of you now had.

It was a month after you graduated.

You remember that day better than anything because the final episode of ‘12 Monkeys’ was premiering. Hours earlier you had finished doing the housework so you didn't have the rest of the day off and had taken the opportunity after taking out the garbage to go to the supermarket and buy a pizza along with a bag of chips and a soda, you may have even bought a small container of ice cream, but if you hadn't noticed that, no one else had then.

It was then that minutes before the chapter started you heard how something had crashed against your door.

The truth is that the neighborhood where you had gotten the apartment wasn't that bad, but being that most of the students had already vacated their apartments and that out of the 8 apartments in the building only 3 were occupied, it made you a little more cautious than usual. More so knowing that your downstairs neighbor had gotten a security job that meant he wasn't around in the evenings and that your neighbor across the street was never around, or at least you had never crossed paths with them.

Grabbing a knife from the kitchen, you approached the door while inwardly cursing yourself because I didn't even have the chain to open the door safely.

After opening the door the first thing you did was scream as you felt the weight of something falling on your feet and legs.

You tried to move backwards, but one of your flip-flops got caught in what was on top of your feet and you ended up on the floor. It was only until you heard a familiar grunt that your body decided to stay completely still.

“Do you really need to scream that way? I swear to god if I wasn’t so fucking happy I would… Sparks?”

The moment those ocean eyes found yours you felt completely lost. You definitely knew this person. Hell! You had classes with this person and she for sure wasn't the one listening to the lectures. She was the fucking substitute tutor. What the fuck was this person doing in your apartment? How did she know where you lived? 

“Hey! Hey!” As soon as you came back to yourself, the first thing you noticed was the pungent and alcohol-scented breath coming out of her mouth. In front of you, the person was snapping her fingers in front of your face but the first thing your body did was relax and release the knife you had taken previously. “Did you hit your head? Why the fuck aren’t you answering?”

“What?” 

“‘What?’” She repeated with a mix of annoyance and mockery. “I said ‘Why. The. Fuck. aren’t you answering?’ Are you some kind of perv to enter someone else’s apartment in just underwear and a thin shirt? I thought you had a bright future after those questions you asked on the last seminar, but I guess every talent has their fucking weird quirks” 

You would have thought that the tone of apathy she was using to talk to you and the slow, paused manner was because she thought you were an idiot, but the way her corners rose in each pause and then returned to a neutral pose made you realize she was enjoying it. Maybe it was the way she talked to you but after looking around for a moment you cleared your throat and stared directly into her eyes, your voice charged with annoyance. 

“In any case wouldn’t you be the perv?” You tilted your head softly before lifting your hand and moving it around. “Maybe you should look at your surroundings before making false statements like that, you know?” Propping yourself up, you started walking towards the door. “I appreciate your very unwelcome visit Dr. Harkness, but if you could get out of my home I would appreciate it.” 

Dismissing your words she started to look around noticing how in fact, this wasn’t her apartment but yours. The way her head snapped back at you, made you nibble on your bottom lip, trying to contain your laugh from the way she started to wiggle the fingers of her right hand, and the way her cheeks started to take a more rosy tone.  

Tripping on her words, Agatha decided to just shut her mouth. 

“I swear this day can’t get any worse…” She muttered to herself. She looked at you again and taking a few steps she extended her hand. “I apologize for this situation. It is my responsibility for not controlling my alcohol consumption and for not taking in my surroundings more quickly.” 

“I didn’t know you lived here” You say more calmly this time, after all, receiving an apology from her, specifically, was as rare as a thief having honor… On second thought, probably you shouldn't compare her with a thief though. 

“It was only for the time I replaced Dr. Strange, but as you already know, that asshole decided just not to return until the next semester. And I actually like this place, or I liked it. Considering I didn’t have to see anyone from the hospital or campus.” Her jaw clenched and her eyes closed remembering the whole situation, and honestly you couldn’t blame her. Losing the person in charge of one of the most important years of your career just to adapt to another person that was almost the same as him but more strict and had the belief of “swim or die” wasn’t exactly the ideal scenario for anyone involved.”So you live here Sparks?” She says tilting her head as she lets her body weight rest at the door frame, looking at you intently but also trying to gain some sobriety by breathing slowly and profoundly. “I thought you were returning to your hometown after graduation?” The frown she wears shows how she’s trying to remember if maybe she misheard that time you were talking with your friends, but she can swear you said you were going back home, specially after the health of someone from your family was deteriorating. 

You are taken aback by her question, you try to remember if you ever slipped thant kind of information to her, specially on those sessions where she would try to help you find which specialization you wanted to follow after graduation, but even though you keep repeating all your conversations with her, your end up answering without thinking. 

“I-I wanted to stay here. I wanted to spend more time with my friends and…” Your voice started to lower with each word until it became only a whisper. You wanted to enter the same Hospital as them, but you hadn’t reached the point to choose which hospital you wanted to start your internship. You would need a letter of recommendation from a doctor working there, but that was already difficult considering they could only use one for only one student, your other option was just asking the universe to be benevolent enough to make the people in charge of distributing the students to send you there.

It’s not that you had bad grades or anything bad. But you knew this wasn’t the only university teaching medicine, and obviously there had to be better students than yourself, and many of them would kill for a spot in the SHIELD Road Hospital so your dream to actually keep seeing your friends would soon become nonexistent.

She noticed though. 

The way you started to play unconsciously with the tip of your fingers and how your shoulders started to tense up. You were talking to her looking directly at her eyes, but now your gaze looked everywhere except herself, and that bothered her. 

When you felt cold fingers holding your chin immediately your breath got caught on your chest. 

“I do like when people look at me when I’m having a conversation. You are not the exception, Sparks.”

“Why do you call me Sparks?” You say taking a step back from her, trying to create some distance out of respect. At the end of the day maybe she wasn’t anymore your tutor, but if the accepted at the hospital

“Who knows? You were really smart in all our sessions and all the seminars, also most of the doctors you got to work with said you were a brilliant student.” She shrugs her shoulders before walking towards the apartment in front of you. “I guess I’ll be seeing you a lot more at the hospital, isn’t it?” 

The meak sound that came out of your mouth was signal enough for Agatha to know that it was in fact that topic that turned your usual radiance out of the window, but how would she be able to pry  more when she didn’t have that kind of relationship with you? To be real she didn’t have any kind of relationship with you but maybe a Senior-Junior one, but that wouldn’t even open the door for her to ask more about your concerns. 

When you saw she started looking for something you decided it was time to close your door. 

You lifted up the knife you had previously taken, now a silly thought considering you didn’t even know any kind of personal defense, which you should probably at least try once just for protection. 

You were walking towards the sofa trying to finally start catching up with the episode and enjoy the finale, when a knock on your door made you roll your eyes. You took the bag of chips to the side and after moving the blanket out of the way you walked towards the door and after opening it you saw a sheepish Agatha trying to avoid your eyes. 

“It seems I lost my key, could I stay here for the night, please” 

The rest was history after that night, because the moment a soft ‘yeah, sure’ came out of your mouth it was like you had adopted a stray cat. A very mischievous, cocky and snarky cat though. She would start inviting herself to your apartment at night after her shifts at the hospital, and when you got you the email saying you were accepted to do your internship at the same hospital as your friends and her, she celebrated with you, taking you to a restaurant that had a lot of board games, that you really enjoyed playing. 

And after you started doing your practices at the hospital, she would come up to you and ask you to return with her in her car, saying you should help her to take advantage of the gasoline she was going to use to go back. Of course each time you decline, not wanting to start some weird rumors on hospital grounds, considering it seemed even the walls had eyes and ears, but by now you were even considering some doctors asking the hospital security for information, even doing trades with them for something juicy.

Once they changed you to be at the night shift, the problem started when you couldn’t even make a sandwich or just throw an apple in your backpack and go to the hospital. The first time she saw you running with just a banana on your hand, the way her lips formed a thin line should have been warning enough of what she was thinking about your breakfast choice, but you only told her you ran out of food so past-tomorrow you would go to the market to buy some. 

She was a patient person when she wanted to be, so she told herself she would wait. That day was Tuesday so she should wait for Thursday to see if you were only full of bullshit or you actually cared about your health. So the moment she opened your apartment and noticed you weren’t home yet, she checked the cabinets and the fridge only to find one beer that was already out of date and half a tomato. So with a thin smile, she decided she was going to kill you when you returned, but first she had to go to the market, because clearly you didn’t give a fuck about yourself and her, considering she was also living there.

Well, not living there, there, but you know, there. 

So when you returned home the fridge was as full as the cabinets, and when you took your phone to pay her for all the groceries, she only patted your head and threw herself on the couch, putting play on the TV, resuming her Harry Potter Marathon and hearing her call out all the inconsistencies about how the government or even the school rules were. And after remembering her it was just a kids movie, she would shoot you a deadly glare.  

But from that day on, she would bring you bags full of groceries each week because, as she said ‘it’s a responsibility to know future generations are well fed and grow well’. Of course later at night, especially on Thursday's Marathon night, when it was possible, she would start complaining about How Grey’s Anatomy was inaccurate and how Meredith should just take Addison to a closet and resolve their situation by making out. Or how it was amazing in OUAT how Regina and Emma were dating each other's male versions.

You laughed so hard that the neighbor under you started kicking his ceiling. 

And as the months passed by you even started making space for her clothes, so every time you went looking for her at the bar that was 20 minutes away from the hospital she would have something clean and warm to wear. 

Which brings you back to yesterday. 

“What are you doing here Sparks? Didn’t you have that operation with María in the afternoon?” You heard her before you felt her, but your body decided to stay still as she hugged you from behind, resting her arms over your shoulders and putting her head over yours. “I thought you said Maria gave you permission to rest in the apartment because this was the longest you had been in the operating room?” Because her arms were crossed over your chest, you felt how her hands started to caress over the sweatshirt each of your arms. 

“You are so hardworking, why don’t you wanna be in neuro with me? God knows I need someone with capable hands like yours…” You felt how her chest started to move repeatedly behind your head and that's when you heard her snorting. “And brain, of course your brain too.” 

You only rolled your eyes and started to get up from your seat. She tried to keep you in place but considering she was definitely drunk, her strength was null. 

“And I would be in my bed right now if someone didn’t got drunk to the point she can’t even drive.”

“I was gonna ask for an Uber you know?” She says as she takes her phone out of her jeans pocket and starts shaking it softly in front of you. 

You take her phone away and when you press the screen it shows it’s already dead making all her wigglin stop. 

“You are lucky you always come to this place and that Ed has my number.” You swiftly hold her with one arm from the waist and as you pull her to your side, you look back at Ed who was very amused by the scene. “Thank you Ed, until next time!”

“You should take better care of your girlfriend though!” He says with a cocky smile as he winks at you goodbye. 

You try to answer back, but a hand resting on your cheeks makes your focus back on the person you are currently holding.

“You heard him. You should take better care of me. Just as I take care of you.” 

You had every intention to respond back, you  really had, but the moment she pressed her lips against yours it was as if every thought and image in your head just banished. 

The way she was touching you wasn’t strong nor rough. Her fingers were touching your skin as if it was going to break if she tried to hold you any tighter. She turned around spooning you against her without making any distance between the two of you. She tasted like alcohol and cigars, but who would have thought she liked them mint flavored? 

You hadn't even completely left the establishment, but that didn't seem to matter to her after she stuck you to the wall closest to the exit.

“You are always so cute when you're flustered…” She whispered against the corner of your lips, before starting to leave small kisses against your jaw, making you close your eyes and mouth trying to control your reactions. “Maybe I should start making you this way, but only for me though… You’re mine after all.” 

When she looked at you again, she was so close the tip of your noses were brushing against each other, but what made your legs fail you was the way she slid her tongue from your chin to your lips, trying to mark her territory in her drunken state.

“Agatha” You murmured against her cheek, only having for an answer a little purr. “Agatha…”

“Yes, pet?” She said, murmuring against your neck.

“You are drunk, and we need to go. Where are your keys?” 

She groaned softly before resting her head completely on your shoulder. “It’s in my pocket.” Agatha mustered the words as bored as she could, and only because you couldn’t see it, but the way she was smiling showed completely the opposite of that tone, but the cherry on top for Agtha was when you asked her with your voice faltering in which pocket it was. “Left one, front.”

It was enough for you having her resting her whole weight against your body considering she was a little taller than you, but it was completely frustrating how even as drunk as she was, how she was handling the situation, well, how you were going to handle the situation when you came back to your apartment.

Everything had become so messy in a short amount of time that your brain couldn’t even handle it as it normally should. So when she told you where the key of the car was, you moved the other hand that was holding her and started moving it down towards the pocket, what you didn’t expect was the way she started moaning against your ear the moment you reached into the pocket. 

Your breath hitched causing Agatha to bite her lips to keep from laughing, but you, unlike her, closed them to suppress a whimper. You tried to turn your hand but that only made Agatha start to move her hips upwards trying to rub herself against your hand.

“I didn't know you had a thing for public places pet. I think you can feel how excited this makes me feel, maybe I should check on you next, huh?” 

Coming back to today

“I feel like all the people who like her are because they don't know her. Last time one of the nurses crashed into the cart with all the dirty sheets because she was trying to get Dr. Harkness' attention." You turn to look at Kate who is now standing next to you as she shrugs her shoulders. “At least he did get her attention, not the attention he wanted, but he got it.”

“What are we talking about?”

"You haven't even been listening to me! I've been talking to you on the air for like 30 minutes, it's unbelievable dude!” She says a little too loud, making Agatha, Dr. Stark and Director Fury to look at the both of you with lifted brows.

“Sorry!” You say as you round Kate’s neck with your arm and bow your heads a little while whispering in her ear. “You really need to learn when to gossip and how loud to do it!” After releasing her you began to slowly shake your robe to get it back into place. “Besides, what are you talking about? How can you say that everyone is dying to be with Dr. Harkness when they are always talking about Dr. Rogers in pediatrics? I mean, I could almost swear that's all I hear when the nurses come by, even Dr. Barnes once said he just needed a chance.” Kate only snorted at your response. 

“What is so funny?” You asked with complete honesty. 

“Do you have a crush on her or something? Or are you just too dense to notice how every single person that crosses her path wants to have a piece of that?” 

You glared at Kate and she started laughing a little more uncontrollably than before, but the worst thing is that she took it all wrong. You weren’t mad because she called you almost an idiot, but because it wasn’t possible. You were moving a lot more than Kat throughout the Hospital considering how you were going from Dr. Stark, to Dr. Hill to Agatha sometimes. You talked with almost everyone on the levels where she was most seen so, how the hell didn’t you notice everyone wanted her? You weren’t that oblivious, right? Right? 

“I mean, If you think about it who wouldn’t want to date her? She is a winner of several medical awards and is one of the 20 leaders in her field, she is head of the neurology department in one of the most important hospitals worldwide, she has a good salary, she is extremely hot." As Kate's last words left her mouth a strange and unpleasant sensation began to spread through your chest and into your throat. “She’s in her mid 30’s, she’s single and by some old photos she’s aging like fine wine. She’s career oriented and very responsible and for what Nurse Lilia told me the other day, she’s really caring with the people she loves.” She starts moving her hands, simulating a scale. “From wherever you see it, she’s actually a very good option and very tempting… Maybe if I gain her heart she’ll start going easy on me?”

You were spiraling. 

You started to look at Agatha intently.

She was definitely beautiful. You weren't stupid enough not to notice her beauty, but really what was it that caught people's attention?

Could it be the way no matter how she fixed her hair she always looked good? Or maybe it was the way that when she smiled her eyes smiled in such a way that you could swear they sparkled? Maybe it was the way that when she went a long time without speaking or concentrating her voice became hoarse and she had to clear it several times until it returned to its normal tone?

Maybe it was the softness of her lips and the care he took when she kissed you?

You quickly shook your head trying to erase that last thought, but that didn't stop you from feeling how the heat was slowly rising not only to your cheeks but to your ears as well.

“It’s a shame though, considering she already has a girlfriend.” Your head snapped back to Kate looking at her in disbelief. 

“What did you say?”

A/N: So here is part 1.

Honestly when I received the request, I thought it was going to be something short, but when I started writing the words started coming out. I had intended to finish it today, but I had a tarot reading and decided to split it into parts and post this first while I finish the other half.

I hope you liked it, if you think I missed a tag please let me know so I can add it and let me know what you thought. If there is any mistake an apology.

See you next time.

Dividers

Taglist: @sweetmidnights