#and the bookstore guy was like ''Can I ask you a question then? I am going to judge you for it if you get it wrong though''

[shikai-the-storyteller]

Went to the bookstore today and asked about their mythology section and this frickin guy had the gall to be like "Yeah it's over here, but these are really dense and difficult so let me show you the children's mythology section." I was so baffled I didn't say anything. Normally I would've been very offended, but I couldn't help but laugh because I was like "I've been reading those massive textbook-esque mythology books since I was a literal child as research for my novel, sir. But sure, show me the kid's section, I like reading kids' books too."

[leopardvee]

toji's book club takeover

boyfriend!toji x girlfriend!reader

“so… I joined a book club!” you plopped down on toji’s bed. 

“you did what?” he looked at you like you killed his grandma. 

“it’s not a big deal. it’s a bunch of older woman in town, some wine, and books. we’re reading the viscount who loved me”, you batted your eyelashes at him jokingly. 

“bridgerton? that’s the one with the guy who looks like he’d cry if you pulled his hair” he laughed.

“that’s not even the right season, dumbass”. you rolled your eyes your eyes and cuddled up next to him. 

“so can i come?” he asked.

“no! it’s just us. girl time —wine and books”, you wiggled your fingers like confetti. 

“I can be a girl, I got opinions on historical foreplay”.

“and for that exact reason, you cannot come!”

“you ever need a live reenactment, you know where to find me.”

——

that was a few weeks ago. 

“ohmygoooooood and when anthony tried sucking the venom from the bee out of her chest, I’ve never wanted to be someone else so badly”. the older woman to your right fanned herself. 

you giggled and she smiled at you warmly.

you were enjoying the lively chatter of all the women around you, definitely decades older than you, but all hilarious in their own way.

the leader turned to you and asked you what you thought about the bee scene. before you could answer, the door swung open. toji casually walked in like he wasn’t interrupting everything, hoodie on, sweatpants hung low on his hips, his happy trial peeking out. 

all the women, including you gawked at him — you for an entirely different reason. a few oh my god’s and gasps went around you the room. your face flushed, a mix of embarrassment and confusion.

“hellllllooooo ladies” toji smiled. you weren’t sure what to do. you just sat frozen in your seat. 

“why hello there, are you a new member?” an older woman across from you asked, smiling.

“yes i am and i’m her boyfriend”, he winked and pointed at you. it couldn’t get worse than this right?

oh but it does.

he clapped his hands loudly, rubbing them together. “what’s this freaky ass book we’re reading ladies? naughty group of girls we got here”. is he serious? you pinched yourself. maybe you were dreaming. but also, toji knew that's the book you were reading.

the woman who never speaks up answered. “the viscount who loved me” she grinned from ear to ear. you were in utter disbelief; this was the time she wanted to pipe up?

toji slowly walked over to you with all the swagger in the world, hands in his pockets, pulling his sweatpants down a little further. he smirked at you the whole way. 

“y/n why were holding out on us! you didn’t say he looked like this!” you opened your mouth to speak but no words came out. 

when toji finally stood in front of you, he spoke only loud enough for you and the people next to you to hear. “i didn’t know you talked about me here. makes me feel some type of way”. you averted your gaze, your cheeks felt so warm. “stand up”, he commanded gently.

you stood and he took your spot. he gently tugged your waist to pull you onto his lap. your body felt hot with embarrassment and all the women around you were asking toji questions. toji’s light but possessive grip on your waist made it impossible to focus. you zoned your vision out on a random spot in the tiny bookstore. 

“so do you read… or are you more of a hands on learning kind of man?” 

“do you have brothers? better yet, are you a twin?”

one really wine drunk woman slurred her words. “how do you feel about discipline?”

the worst was when your favorite woman, jane, spoke up. “what would you do if y/n got stung by a bee… right… here!” she gestured towards your chest…specifically your boobs. good god. “jane, ohmygod!!” you were absolutely mortified. 

you folded your arms over your chest and pouted a bit, not caring how your book was folded between your fingers. you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. you could feel a headache in both temples forming. 

toji rubbed his hand over his jaw, thinking deeply. he drummed his fingers over your waist. “well, i’d hope the bee’s got good aim, would make my job more fun”, he shrugged. 

you side eyed toji and he just smirked. 

“sounds like someone is writing the next chapter for us!”

“you’re coming back next week!”

“lord have mercy! where do you find men like this?” 

“i found him in a ditch” you fake smiled, gritting your teeth. toji squeezed your waist hard. the old women were just tickled at the dynamic between you and toji. 

“i have a great idea! since we’re on the topic of the bee scene, let’s just read it right now aloud!” jane grinned. 

“nahhh, maybe we can just read the chapter after it! we’ve all read it right?” you pleaded. 

“no, i think jane is right. we should read it out loud.” he’s joking. he has to be joking. 

the women took turns popcorn reading the scene until it got to you. you were blushing extremely hard, your were hands sweaty, and for some reason, you just couldn’t flip to the right page. 

“i’ll find it for you princess”, he yanked the book out of your hands, somehow flipping straight to it, holding it in your lap. a few ooo's and ahh's sounded. he sat up much straighter than before, his chin was resting on your shoulder, ready for you to read. 

when you started with a shaky breath, toji cut you off. “nah, lemme do it. i’m good at this kinda thing”. you pressed your lips into a flat line, resting your head in your palm. 

you exhaled loudly. toji cleared his throat louder. it’s not a competition, but it is. “alright ladies, prepare yourselves. this is how a real man reads romance”

toji leaned in, his voice dropping low and thick, like he was about to confess a secret — or maybe just call more attention to himself. 

“anthony’s hands moved with purpose, fingers tracing the path of the sting like he was mapping out a treasure." he held the book in one hand, the other finding its place on your waist again. he was rubbing small circles into you. “every kiss was a spark, every breath between them charged like a live wire”, he continued. 

“i wish i could be a fly on the wall to see how he talks to you outside of this”, another woman chimed in. you couldn’t even react but noted that mentally to use again her.

“anthony pressed closer, lips parting, tongue teasing her delicate skin”. you scratched your neck, super uncomfortable, and super hot. 

“hell, i’m getting worked up just saying it”, toji shifted underneath you not very subtly. 

one of the ladies gasped, clutching her pearls, literally, and whispered, “oh my god, toji, behave!”

you felt a laugh coming on but you couldn’t let toji know you were laughing. he turned back to the book, but with a wicked grin, he added, “if i was anthony, y/n, you’d be screaming my name right now”

every woman in the room was staring at you, waiting for your reaction. 

there was a beat of shocked silence. 

you blinked. 

then blinked again. 

then you bursted out laughing, a full on belly laugh that echoed around the room. you covered your mouth with both hands to try and stifle your laugh but it didn’t work. 

everybody laughed along with you and in the drowning sound of laughter, toji whispered in your ear, “so can i come back next week?”

“definitely not”. you patted his leg and he kissed your cheek. 

ok i don't have the actual dialogue from the scene in bridgeton, i just made it up based on what i watched lmfao. lmk what u think <3

[waywardducks]

Batboy’s favorite dates

All characters are 18 or older ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১

Dick<3:

Honestly, where ever you're happy, he's happy. He's pretty outgoing, concerts, amusement parks ect. He likes exciting dates, by he would never say no to a night in with extra cuddles. He likes to lay out options and let you decide, because like I said, what makes you happiest is ultimately what will make him happiest.

“Your favorite band is in town next month, guess who just scored front-row seats!”

Jason<3:

Bookstore trips and quiet days out are Jason’s go to. Maybe a motorcycle ride out to the bookstore, then to a gun expo and home for some homemade dinner and some good old fashion Netflix and chill. He also seems like a 3 am local 24/7 diner date kinda guy.

“Get dressed, we’re going out.” No questions asked.

Tim<3:

Tim is a gamer and hella neurodivergent. A night in playing video games, eating take out, chugging weird monthser and sour candy concoctions, and case file solving is the perfect date. He likes to spoil you too, romantic dinners, long drives to small towns he thinks you’ll love, shopping trips and Galas.

“Hey, put this on. There's a new restaurant I've been wanting try. I think you’ll like it.”

Damian<3:

He’s a man of culture and a rich boy, you know your dates are elite. Art galleries, expensive restaurants, and museums. He loves a quiet date, something peaceful. Aquariums and animal sanctuarys are always a good go to. Maybe a pottery class, a wine and painting date. Anywhere you too can talk quietly and be together.

“The Gotham History Museum has a new ceramics exhibit. Shall we go together?”

Bruce<3:

Bruce is a classy man. Wine tasting at an expensive Italian restaurant, Galas (a new gown of your choice for each one), a day out on his yacht, he’ll fly you to the keys just so you can walk on the beach together. Money isn't an issue for him, he'll start each date with a new piece of jewelry and beautiful flowers.

“These earrings reminded me of you, they match your eyes perfectly.”

[gumballavocadoharry]

Q&A:

The studio lights hummed, a warm contrast to the crisp autumn air seeping in through the tall windows overlooking the bustling streets of London. Harry, with his characteristic dark brown hair endearingly tousled and his bright green eyes sparkling with anticipation, adjusted the microphone clipped to his black crewneck sweater. Beside him, Yn, her cheeks flushed a delicate rose, fiddled nervously with the hem of her knitted cardigan. The backdrop, adorned with tasteful fairy lights and a plush velvet couch, felt intimate despite the presence of a small camera crew hovering just beyond their eyeline.

“Ready, you two?” Tuck, Harry’s manager and a close friend, called out from behind the camera.

Harry grinned, squeezing Yn’s hand reassuringly. “Born ready, mate.” He turned to Yn, his expression softening. “You okay, love?”

Yn offered a shy but genuine smile. “A little nervous, I won’t lie.”

“That’s alright,” Harry said, his voice a low, soothing rumble. “Just be yourself. Everyone adores you.” He winked, and Yn’s blush deepened.

Tuck gave them the countdown. “Three… two… one…”

Harry leaned forward, his energy instantly shifting into performance mode, though it felt more like a warm welcome than a show. “Hello everyone, and welcome back to my channel! Today is a very special day because I’m not alone. Finally managed to drag this one in front of the camera.” He gestured to Yn, who waved tentatively, a sweet smile gracing her lips.

“Hi everyone,” she said softly, her British accent as gentle as a summer breeze.

“So, as you guys know, Yn and I got engaged a few months back,” Harry continued, his eyes never leaving her. “And we thought it would be fun to do a little Q&A, answer some of your burning questions. We’ve sifted through loads of your tweets and comments, so let’s get started, shall we?”

The first question flashed on the monitor beside the camera. Harry read it aloud, his voice filled with amusement. “‘What was your first impression of each other?’” He chuckled, glancing at Yn. “You go first, love.”

Yn took a deep breath, her shyness momentarily overshadowed by the warmth of Harry’s gaze. “Well,” she began, her voice gaining confidence, “I met Harry at a local bookstore. I was reaching for a book on the top shelf, and being rather vertically challenged…” She trailed off, a playful glint in her eyes.

Harry interjected, a fond smile playing on his lips. “And being the gentleman I am, I offered my assistance.”

Yn laughed softly. “He was so… unassuming. Despite being, you know, Harry Styles,” she emphasized his name playfully, “he was really just… kind. He helped me reach the book, smiled, and went on his way. I remember thinking he had really lovely eyes.”

“And what was your first impression of me, Haz?” Yn asked, turning to him.

Harry’s smile widened, a genuine, heartfelt expression. “My first thought was how beautiful she was. Truly stunning. But beyond that, there was this… quiet strength about her. A gentle aura. And she had this really concentrated look on her face as she was trying to reach that book, like it was the most important thing in the world. It was endearing.”

Another question popped up. “‘What’s your favorite thing about each other?’” Harry read.

“Oh, that’s a good one,” Yn said, leaning back against the cushions. She looked at Harry, her gaze filled with affection. “My favorite thing about Harry… there are so many, but I think it’s his warmth. He just radiates it. He makes everyone around him feel comfortable and loved. And he’s incredibly empathetic. He can always tell when I’m not quite myself, even when I try to hide it.”

Harry’s hand found hers, his thumb stroking her knuckles gently. “For me,” he said, his voice sincere, “it’s Yn’s compassion. She has the biggest heart of anyone I know. She cares so deeply about everyone, and she’s always the first person to offer help or support. And she’s incredibly generous, not just with things, but with her time and her love.”

The questions continued, each one offering a glimpse into their relationship. They talked about their favorite dates – a quiet picnic in Richmond Park was a highlight for both of them. They reminisced about funny moments, like the time Harry accidentally dyed his favorite white t-shirt pink trying to do laundry for Yn. They even addressed a few of the more lighthearted, silly questions.

“‘Who snores louder?’” Harry read, his eyes twinkling. He immediately pointed at Yn, who playfully shoved his shoulder.

“Hey! I do not snore!” she protested, laughing.

“Only when you’re really, really tired,” Harry conceded, winking at the camera. “It’s actually quite cute.”

Yn rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her amusement.

As the questions delved deeper, their personalities shone through. When asked about how they handle disagreements, Harry emphasized the importance of communication and understanding. “We try to really listen to each other, even when it’s difficult. And we never go to bed angry.”

Yn added, “And Harry is incredibly patient. He always tries to see things from my perspective, even if we disagree.”

When a question about their future plans appeared, Harry’s hand tightened around Yn’s. “We’re really excited for what’s to come,” he said, his voice filled with optimism. “Focusing on the wedding at the moment, but we definitely want to start a family someday. And just continue to support each other and grow together.”

Yn nodded, her eyes shining. “That sounds perfect.”

A particularly poignant question appeared on the screen: “‘How has being with Yn changed you, Harry?’”

Harry paused, a thoughtful expression on his face. He looked at Yn, his gaze filled with love and gratitude. “Yn has made me a better person, without a doubt. She’s grounded me. She’s taught me the importance of slowing down and appreciating the little things. She’s made me more patient, more understanding, and definitely more in touch with my emotions. Before Yn, my life was… a whirlwind. She’s brought a sense of peace and stability that I never knew I was missing.”

Yn’s eyes welled up slightly, and she squeezed his hand.

The questions started to wind down. The last one read: “‘What advice would you give to your fans who are looking for love?’”

Harry took a moment to consider his answer. “Be yourself, genuinely and unapologetically. Don’t try to be someone you’re not to impress someone else. And be open to the possibility of love finding you in unexpected places. And most importantly, be kind. Kindness goes a long way.”

Yn added, her voice soft but firm, “Don’t settle. Wait for someone who sees you for who you truly are, flaws and all, and loves you even more for it.”

Harry smiled at her, his eyes full of adoration. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Tuck called out, “And that’s a wrap, folks!”

The studio lights dimmed slightly, and the camera crew started packing up. Harry turned to Yn, his smile gentle. “You were brilliant, love. See? Nothing to be nervous about.”

Yn leaned her head on his shoulder, a sigh of contentment escaping her lips. “It was actually quite fun, once I got over the initial nerves.”

“See? I told you,” Harry chuckled, wrapping his arm around her. “Now, how about we head home? I think someone deserves a cup of tea and a cuddle.”

As they walked out of the studio, hand in hand, the London skyline painted a beautiful backdrop against the twilight sky. Their laughter echoed softly in the cool evening air, a testament to the genuine connection they shared – a love story unfolding under the watchful eyes of the city they called home. Their vulnerability and warmth, so evident in the Q&A, would undoubtedly resonate with their fans, leaving a lasting impression of a love built on kindness, understanding, and a shared desire for a simple, happy life together.

[poly-pan-0118]

Just a thought that led to this...

Bakugou/reader fluff about 700 WC

You meet up with Bakugou after his patrol. He had promised to walk you to the bookstore because he needed to get something himself. The truth is, he just went two days ago, but he's not gonna tell you that. 

His hair is still damp from the shower, sticking out from under the beanie he wears to “disguise” his look. However, people still gawk and whisper. There are not many tall, broad-shouldered blondes with red eyes in Musutafu. 

No one dares to say anything to him, though, as he walks close enough that his hands graze yours occasionally. You're too excited and oblivious to notice as you ramble on about your favorite manga having a special edition release.

Bakugou simply stares between the sidewalk and studies your face, hiding his feelings behind the scowl that usually accompanies his face. On the inside, he can't get enough of how your eyes light up as you talk so animatedly about guy character X finally admitting their feelings for the girl character Y. The irony is not lost on him. 

“But you don't understand, Bakugou. If I'm not there in time to stand in line, I won't get the ultra-deluxe version.”  is your explanation to him after he stays silent so long. It's not that Bakugou wasn't interested. He's totally invested in what you have to say. Hell, he decided long ago he'd listen to you talk about the different sizes and colors of rocks all day if he had to. 

“Ultra deluxe?” He asks as the palm of his hand settles on the small of your back to redirect you out of people's way, the movement coming naturally to him. “What? Does it come with fucking fries or somethin?”

You turn to yell at him, but Bakugou's look almost makes you trip over your feet. He's sporting a slight grin, the closest thing to a smile you've learned. The setting sun catches the red hues in his eyes just right so that you can see flecks of gold. The evening rush on the streets has gotten busier, something you only notice now because you're practically pressed chest to chest against Bakugou as you board the train. 

You're the last ones to get on and when a scummy-looking dude stares at you too long and gets too close for his liking, he turns you around so that his muscular arms cage you in with your back against the door. His hand is still on the small part of your back, and you can feel him pressing closer.  

Neither of you says anything, getting lost in the intimacy of your closeness. When you glance back up at Bakugou again, he's staring at you. He opens his mouth to say something but then closes it and looks away. 

You watch his eyebrows furrow and you recognize the look on his face. It's a look he has when he's pondering something as if making a high-stakes decision on a mission. Before you can overthink it, he whips his head back at you, and the train's jostling presses you even closer. 

“L’me make you dinner tonight.” His voice is so low you almost miss what he said. You're quiet for a minute as you stare up at the Pro Hero, playing the question repeatedly in your head. Did he just ask you to dinner?  

The longer you take to answer, the more red the apples of his cheeks get. Bakugou tilts his head, waiting for an answer. 

“You asking me for a date, Mr. Dynamight?” you tease as you smile at him. 

“Yeah, brat, I am.” 

“Okay, but first,” you start to say as he ushers you out of the train. “I need to get my manga.” You hear Bakugou click his teeth behind you. 

“Yeah, yeah. Make sure you don't forget your fries.” 

Bakugou's hand is now tightly wrapped around yours as you enter your favorite Manga store. Out of his peripheral, he can see people stop as they whisper and their camera flashes, taking pictures. They know who he is and right now, he could care less. All that matters is your smile, beaming brightly at him as you clutch the Ultra Deluxe manga Edition to your chest.

[familyvideostevie]

a kind of hunger | chapter 1

joel miller x fem!reader

series masterlist

joel miller walks into your life just as it starts to fall apart. surely some hot nights with the bar's newest regular can't hurt, right?

length: 9.2k

warnings: 18+, mdni, smut, fem!reader, unspecified age gap, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), doggy style, missionary, slightly painful sex, dirty talk, size kink if you squint, joel is a liiiiiiiitle mean if you squint, general feelings of loneliness and angst from r in her free time

a/n: huge thank you to @strangerfreaks without whom this would never have gotten off the ground. also to all the joel writers on this site, i love you, i am in awe of you. please allow me to give it a go myself <3

navigation | 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹����𝘀𝘁 | 𝗴𝘂𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀

__

The first time you sleep with Joel Miller you know it won't be the last. 

But that's not where this story starts. 

It starts in a bar. Nothing special about it, really. Staffed half by college kids who come and go, half by drifters who, for some reason, stopped drifting once they found this dimly lit, sticky-floored hole in the wall. Not quite a local institution but not forgettable, never totally empty. It's got pool tables and a jukebox but also clean bathrooms aside from the graffiti and two new-ish TVs showing whatever the first guy who gets there wants to watch.

Point is, you work there. One of those drifters who stopped drifting. The guy who owns it, some crotchety old fuck called Bill, rents you the apartment above the bar for a decent price considering it's loud until 2am on the weekends and midnight all the other days. Loud enough that even on nights you don't work it feels like you're there anyway. But you get used to it. It's called Frank's, which you don't totally understand, but you're not about to ask questions of the guy who has finally allowed you to slow down and take a breath who is also your boss and landlord.

You've worked there long enough to have learned the names and orders of all the regulars who've been coming in since long before you walked through the door and to have seen some new regulars enter the rotation. In truth, you've worked there long enough to basically be running the place. It's still the bar in your head, not your bar because getting attached will do you no good. This is how it always goes: you care too much but it never seems like anyone cares back. You cut and run before you can be disappointed and you’ve already been here longer than you’d expected to be because it’s something close to comfortable. 

Almost no one messes with you despite being younger than most of the clientele and on the off chance some frat boy from the city decides to take a cheap shot you've got a small army of imposing customers on your side. Between them and your coworkers, it's almost like you're not alone. 

Almost.

The hours you spend away from the bar are spent alone. You don't have many numbers in your phone and the ones you do you don't call. You go on drives in the shitty truck you bought off some guy when you moved here. You browse used bookstores and suffer the heat of the day on long walks and wonder if this is all there is. You think of what it might be like to feel something other than rootless.

One thing that helps is…sex. Being close to someone for even a little while, letting yourself be seen in a way that doesn’t require you to totally show your hand. You try not to make a habit of actually fucking your clientele. It can get messy quickly, guys coming in and expecting more than a good pour. Being offended when you don't give them a free round, don't make eyes at them over the oiled wood. It's easier to be alone, that much you've learned. It's easier and it's simpler and it means you've only got yourself to blame for the hurt you sometimes feel laying in bed, staring at the ceiling as some rock song thrums up through the floor. 

And if you do fuck someone from the bar, you keep it simple. You do, however, try really hard not to sleep with regulars. And no staying over. A classic, unspoken rule of sleeping with strangers that you rarely verbalize but make sure to enforce every time. It keeps things neat. The last thing you need is mess. Who knows how long you'll stay in this town, in this little apartment and this shitty bar. You've got a lot of years left, a lot of years you should probably spend in classrooms or an office or falling in love with some nice guy with a nice family who can give you a nice life. 

But you're here. 

And then, one day, so is Joel.

Being a good bartender is memorization, paying attention, and keeping a level head. You know how to make pretty much any drink even though your regulars are mostly the simple beer or Jack and Coke kind of people. You swear you can tell when a glass is going to fall a second before it shatters, spot a punch before it can be thrown. So you notice when a man you've never seen before walks through the door.

You notice how the energy of the room changes, how multiple pairs of eyes follow him as he settles at the end of the half-full bar. Dark hair shot through with grey, green shirt rolled up over chorded forearms that he rests on the wood. It feels like you should know him but you don't. You've never seen him before.

You finish pouring beers for some giggly girls before making your way over to him. His eyes track you.

You wonder what he'll order. A shot, maybe, based on the tense line of his shoulders. Or a dark beer. Maybe something strong. You hope he won't be one of those guys you have to peel off the bar in a few hours. "Can I get you something?"

"Whiskey, rocks," he says. You can hear the Texas drawl even from so few words. Deep, low, measured. "Cheapest you got."

For some reason, it feels like he's returning and you're the new one. "Wanna start a tab?"

"I'll do cash at the end," he says. Ah, one of those. Guy getting away from his wife, maybe. Tough day at work. Doesn't want to leave tracks. You can relate to that.

"Joel fuckin’ Miller," one of your regulars says as you turn to grab a glass. He claps the man -- Joel -- on the shoulder. "Heard you were back up this way," he says. "Good to see you, man."

Joel simply inclines his head once like he's not thrilled to be recognized. The dismissal is clear. And, weirdest of all, it works. You've seen insults hurled between friends for less.

You set his drink down, the amber liquid sloshing around the ice. 

"Thanks," he mutters. The dismissal is...less clear, but you've got other customers to tend to. And Joel doesn't seem particularly chatty.

Your eyes return to him for the next hour or so but he never waves you over for another round. Heat trails up and down your spine and you have to tell yourself that he's not watching you. That would be too optimistic, right? At one point you take a bathroom break and when you're back he's gone, wrinkled bills stacked under the glass. Enough for his drink and a decent tip. 

Joel comes in three more times over the next month before you sleep with him. Each time he orders the same drink, leaves the same tip. He sits alone at the bar, occasionally saying hello when someone approaches but no one ever sits next to him. He's gruff but only ever polite to you, doesn't get impatient when it takes you a minute to get to him. 

And he's really something to look at. The tick in his jaw, the veins in his neck. His skin is tanned, dotted with small scars that must come from a lifetime of hard work. He wears a watch and jeans that hug his ass in an almost indecent way, a way that has you watching him when he's not on a stool. Sometimes you catch him smirking to himself when there's some shit going on at the bar, gossip or people being loud for no reason. You wonder what his laugh sounds like and scold yourself for it. No harm in looking but there's the possibility of harm in thinking too much. You know better.

The third time he comes in is a bad night. It's busy for some reason and everyone is a fucking asshole. You weren't even supposed to work tonight but one of the seasonal kids had banged on your door begging you to come help, promising you all the tips for tonight if you did. You knew it would make you look good to Bill and despite yourself, you didn’t want to leave them hanging, so here you are, sweaty and pissed and smelling like beer, doing your best to empty the dishwasher in between drink orders and praying the keg doesn't need changing. 

You don't even notice when Joel comes in, only spotting him once he's managed to scare some college kid from a seat at the bar. For some reason, his presence makes you a little calmer in the chaos. 

"Be with you in a sec, Joel," you say to him when you're near. You don't call him by his name since he never actually introduced himself to you but it slips out in the rush. His nostrils flare but you don't have time to linger on it even as you feel the hot weight of his gaze. 

"No rush."

You manage to get him what you know by now to be his usual only to be called over by your least favorite customer of the night as soon as he's thanked you. 

"Honey," the asshole says. This fucker's name is Seth and he's a pain in your ass. "Gimme another, will you? Make it a heavy pour." This would be his fifth and he's already slurring his words. 

"Don't think so," you tell him firmly. "I'm cutting you off for tonight, Seth." He's liable to start some shit or at the very least throw up on the floor and you don't want to deal with either. You don't have time to deal with either. 

His bloodshot eyes narrow and he slams a fist on the bar. You manage not to flinch, though pretty much everyone else does. "That's not good fucking service, sweetcheeks," he leers. 

"Good thing I don't give a fuck," you snap. "Get the fuck out of here before you do something you regret, sweetcheeks.” The venom in your tone seems to surprise him before sheer rage takes over. You've thrown out plenty of assholes in your time here but it's not always a smooth experience.

Seth leans forward over the bar, reaches for you -- to do what, you have no idea -- and you prepare yourself to yell for backup and then kick him out for good and maybe get a punch in as he goes. His fingers manage to hook in your shirtsleeve before a hand closes around his wrist.

Before Seth can scream he's got his outstretched arm behind his back, face twisted in pain. Behind him is --

Joel?

The bar is almost silent. You can hear a few whispers over the blood pumping in your ears. 

"I'd get out of here if I were you," Joel hisses. He glances at you, jaw tight and eyes narrowed. Are you okay? he seems to be asking. You nod. 

Seth whimpers. "Let me go," he says weakly. 

"Just gonna show you the door." Joel all but drags him through the parting crowd. 

"Jesus," someone says behind you. One of the seasonal kids. "You okay?"

"I'm taking my break." You leave the kid behind the bar to fend for himself and barrel into the back and through the side door into the alley where you always take your 15. It's one of those weird cold fall nights, just the wrong side of chilly to be here without a jacket but you left it in the bar office.

The milk carton you sit on has been turned over so you kick it back with a thud and slump down onto it. The light above the door flickers. "This shit is getting old," you say to no one. You kick aside cigarette butts that aren't yours and wonder how long you can do this. What would be next, anyway? You've got a laundry list of failed dreams and no one wondering if you're going to make something of yourself. Long nights at a bar you care about more than you should and rowdy customers and handsome men who barely say a word to you can't last forever, can it? Would anyone here even notice if you left?

The door flies open, startling you out of your thoughts. 

Joel steps into the alley. Somehow he manages to yet again look like he was meant to be here and you're the one who is out of place. You blink at him and he stares back like he wasn't sure he'd find you here.

"Got lost?" you ask. "Pretty sure you know where the front door is."

He lets the metal door swing shut and crosses his arms. "Was lookin' for you."

That catches you by surprise. "Why?"

Joel shrugs, a small lift of his shoulders. His expression doesn't budge. "Sorry for makin' trouble."

Oh, right. Seth. You wave him off. "Just another night," you say. "I'd have handled it." You stand from the crate and lean against the brick wall. It's true. Seth isn't the first asshole you've handled.

"I bet you would've," Joel mutters. He takes one step closer. You're reminded all at once how good-looking he is, how you've wondered what his hands would feel like on your skin. There's no way he's ever thought of you, right? You're just some girl who pours him drinks, too young and too forgettable. He was just having a man moment, wanting to save the day or some shit like that. 

"I don't have a cigarette or anything if you want to smoke," you say. This close he doesn't smell like tobacco but you don't know what else to say. "Sorry."

"So you just sit in alleys on your break for fun?"

"I like this alley," you say, suddenly a bit defensive. "It's a nice alley." You take a step towards him. He uncrosses his arms and his hands flex at his sides. You shiver. "No one bothers me out here."

Joel tilts his head to the side. "That so?" His eyes are dark under the dim light. When did he get so close? When did your face get so hot?

"Except guys who drink whiskey on the rocks, I guess," you say. It comes out much softer than you'd like, your voice cracking. The air doesn't have the same bite as it did seconds ago. Joel's expression hovers between something you recognize and something you don't, something you desperately want to figure out. "Good thing I don't mind." The adrenaline from the small altercation hasn't left and the swirl of emotions about your whole shitty life has you on edge, has you wanting to play with fire.

You're so close now that you can feel his breath on your face, feel the heat of him in the still night. Joel's eyes rake over your face, looking for something, something you try very hard to show him so that he might fucking do it, meet the want that is suddenly uncontrollable halfway, or at least tell you if he's not interested so you can --

Your name is a groan in his throat and then he's kissing you. His palm cups the back of your head as he presses you into the wall, his other hand firm on your hip, fingertips pressing into your skin through your shirt hard enough to bruise. He tastes like the whiskey you served him. You fist one hand in his collar and wind the other into his hair.

Joel controls the kiss but you give as good as you get. He licks into your mouth and you suck on his lower lip. His beard rubs against your face in a delicious burn and when you tug on his hair he makes a noise you must hear again. The brick behind you scrapes a bit but you hardly notice when he presses against you, slides a thigh between your legs and you feel him hard through his jeans. 

"S'not right, you lookin' so good yellin' at that asshole," he grumbles into your neck, teeth nipping at your pulse. You cant your hips and he hisses.

"Speak for yourself," you manage. "Always got your eyes on me, don't you?" It feels like a risk to call him on it. Control of the situation is slipping from your grasp, this man who you never thought would actually touch you now holding you in his arms, his lips on your skin. He pulls back from your neck and smirks, eyes dark. 

"'Spose I do." 

You can work with that. You surge forward to kiss him again and this time he lets you call the shots while still meeting your bruising caresses with his own.

"Joel." You tug on his hair.

He makes that noise again.

It might be five minutes, it might be an hour. You have no idea. All you know is you can still feel his cock through the denim and you're so turned on you might combust in this alley. Or at the very least let him fuck you in it.

"I don't close tonight," you pant. One of Joel's hands has worked its way into your back pocket and the other has rucked up your shirt to rest on your bare back. 

"What?" he growls.

"My shift. I'm off at 11." You tap his watch. He glances at it and sees it read 10:30. "Half hour. I live upstairs."

For a second you think he'll say no. Walk away with a nod of his head and out of your life forever. Wouldn't be the first, wouldn't be the last. You're already breaking one of your rules by even considering sleeping with him but there's just something about him. The way he looks at you, the way his hands feel on your skin. You want to know what he'll feel like inside you. Maybe you’re still in this town because you were waiting for him to walk through the door.

"Alright," he says. He clears his throat and releases you. You fuss with your hair and straighten your shirt and he adjusts himself in his jeans. "Half hour." His dark eyes narrow as he glances down the alley back towards the street. 

"Take a walk around the block or something," you tell him, swallowing the urge to laugh at him so handsome and disheveled from your hands. Never in a million years would you have predicted that tonight would go this way. "My door is on the other side of the building. I'll let you up."

The urge to flatten the damage your hands did to his hair is so overwhelming for a second that you step away from him towards the door. His eyes follow you, expression unreadable. How many nights would it take for you to know what he's thinking? Careful, you think, or you'll be tempted to find out. 

Joel watches you until you give him a little wave and slip back into the bar. The metal door clangs shut behind you and you lean against it, knees still wobbly. Is this actually happening? Are you really this overwhelmed by making out with some guy in an alley? You check the clock on the wall and curse. Your break ended ten minutes ago though since no one came looking for you it's probably no big deal. Being mostly in charge has its perks.

The bar is a little less crowded than when you left so you grab a rag and start wiping down the bar. Joel's seat is empty, his glass gone. 

"Oh, hey," the seasonal kid says. "That guy, uh, Joel? He said to make sure you get this." He pulls out Joel's usual tip from his apron and holds it out to you.

Considering you're planning to go upstairs and fuck him until you can't walk, you don't feel like taking his tip tonight. "It's yours," you say. "Thanks for handling everything while I was out back." The kid blinks at you but knows better than to refuse, pocketing the cash and going back to loading the dishwasher. 

You finish your shift. Your blood feels electric, your skin hot. Can anyone in this bar tell what happened in the alley? You haven't felt this way about a hookup in ages. Like you were wanted, not just convenient. It's just one night, right? Maybe he'll never come to the bar again, which makes your chest tighten for a second. Maybe you're about to ruin something you don't totally understand. But you haven't gotten this far in life by worrying about shit like that, so you clock out and wave goodbye and make your way to the other side of the building. 

Joel isn't there. You unlock the door to the stairwell so you can at least wait for him inside when you hear footsteps, the crunch of gravel under boots. You fist your key between your knuckles just in case but before you can turn around you hear your name in that Texas drawl. 

"Just me," he says. You don't know if Joel Miller is capable of looking nervous but this is probably close. He shifts from one foot to the other, hands in his pockets. A thrill runs up your spine. Are you really doing this? Are you really about to bring this man up to your apartment and hope to god he does whatever you want to you? 

"Come on up." Yes. Yes, you are. You give him a smile and he follows you up to the landing. 

"S'loud," he mutters once you shut the door. The bar's music wasn't that loud when you were in it and up here it's a dull hum, people's voices and laughter slipping through the cracks like a TV left on a little too high in the other room. These days it's background noise to you but you figure Joel lives in a house somewhere with lots of land and open windows and silence. He seems like the type to like silence. 

Jacket on the hook, shoes clumsily thrown on the mat, keys in the dish. Your normal routine except there’s a man in your living room, too. He looks around the space, hands still in his pockets. You try not to be self-conscious about your place. It's small, sure, the bedroom visible through the currently open French doors in the small living room. Your kitchen is tiny, bathroom tinier, but it's all yours. "You get used to it," you say. "I hardly mind it anymore."

"Didn't say I did," he says. You both stand there for a few moments before Joel takes two big steps and crowds you against the door, one hand on your hip and the other next to your head. "Means they won't hear us." You swallow a gasp as he drags his nose along the curve of your jaw, breath hot on your skin. You were going to ask him if you could shower first since you undoubtedly smell like sweat and beer but clearly, he doesn't mind. His tongue darts out and he sucks on your pulse point, your own hands clutching desperately at his shirt. If he moves you're sure you'll melt into a puddle on the floor. "Means you can be as loud as you want," he growls. "That sound good?"

Any breath remaining in your body rushes out and you jerk your hips to make contact with the hardness in his jeans. "Yeah," you gasp. You can feel something like a smile against your neck. "That sounds good."

It's a dynamic you don't mind stepping into -- whatever this is. Every second of your life you feel like you're waiting for the other shoe to drop, for everyone around you to get tired. Your eyes are always on the exit, always wondering where you'll go next, what you'll leave behind this time. Even when you're fucking strangers you're always wondering how you'll get them to leave. You’re better off alone. But right here, right now, with Joel's heavy scent of sawdust and whiskey and something earthy, something grounding, in your nostrils, his hands and his mouth on you, nothing else matters. Your brain shuts off and you're just here.

You grab Joel's jaw and guide his lips back to yours. He allows it and you moan deep in your throat as he tongues back into your mouth, your own trying to give as good as you're getting. He pops the button on your jeans and you help him with frantic hands, shoving them down your hips along with your underwear so he can ghost his fingers through your coarse curls. He pulls back from the kiss to watch as he drags two fingers through your folds. Your eyes lock and he smirks as your lids flutter.

"Soaked," is all he says. You tip your head forward and rest your forehead on his shoulder.

"Don't be smug."

He huffs. "I ain't trying to sound like an asshole, but --"

"Already failed." He nips at your earlobe.

"Gotta work you open a bit, sweetheart," he says. His fingers circle your clit once, ever so slowly. Your grip on his bicep tightens and you wonder if you'll leave bruises. You hope so. "Gonna be a tight fit."

"Heard -- fuck -- that before," you gasp. Joel really fucking knows what he's doing. "I -- bed?"

"Smart girl," he says. You're pretty sure you get wetter. He pulls his fingers free but keeps a hold on your hip like he knows your knees are jelly. "Sit on the edge." 

You leave your jeans and underwear behind and make your way to the bed through the French doors, sitting heavily on the quilt, knees bent and leaning on your hands behind you. Before you can say another word, Joel lowers to his knees between yours. He pries them apart even further and runs his hands up and down your thighs. 

For a few seconds, you can't find the words. This man, older than you and impossibly handsome, face lined with years he's lived and hands callused with work he's done, this man that you hardly know anything about but can't get out of your mind, is on his knees before you.

"You gonna be okay down there?" is what you come up with.

"You always talk this much?" he mutters, though his mouth tugs up at the corner. Joel's forearms wrap around your legs and he tugs. You fall flat on your back in surprise and your ass almost hangs off the bed. He draws one of your legs over his shoulder and kneads the flesh of your thigh, eyes dark and jaw twitching as he spreads you open and just looks. "Might have to help me up but I think I'll be just fine."

"Joel --" 

The end of his name becomes a high-pitched moan when he leans in and buries his face in your cunt. He drags his tongue up and down through your folds, nose catching your clit in a way that makes you squirm. His beard scrapes against your skin deliciously, leaving a sting that you know you'll be able to see evidence of when he's done. He laps at you before finally taking your clit in his mouth and sucking like his life depends on it. It's only his hand on your outstretched thigh keeping you from suffocating him between your legs, though you're not sure he'd mind.

"Should be a crime," he says. You look down the length of your body at him. His chin is wet with you, eyes meeting yours when he feels your stare. "Cunt this pretty tastin' so good."

How do you reply to that?

He's back at it before you can even try. Joel gets messy with it, the sounds of his attention loud and filthy. He tells you how wet you are, how good you taste, and your eyes flutter shut again.

"How're we doing?" 

"Don't stop," you manage. "Just, don't stop--"

He prods your entrance with one finger. "Reckon you can take it, hmm? You're so wet it'll be easy." There's a bite to his tone, a sense of amusement mixed with awe like he can hardly believe it either. 

"Two," you gasp. "I can take two." You need two, in fact. His hands are one of the few parts of him you've been able to study and you know his fingers are long, much thicker than yours and you need them to fill you up, need them to stretch you out. You need something to clench around because right now you feel like you're on the edge of the pleasure building in your core and if you don't get a release soon you'll just…just…combust. 

Joel hums but you feel a second finger nudge into you. He slides them in and curls them as he goes. Your back arches off the bed.

"Dunno," he coos. "Pretty tight, sweetheart." The slight meanness to his words is in complete contrast with the gentle, attentive way he handles you. Who knew he'd be such a fucking tease.

"Well get to work, then." He scissors the digits inside of you in reply and returns to sucking on your clit. You reach down and bury your hand in his silver-streaked hair, tugging a bit harder than you intend to. Joel just moans into your cunt, the vibration making it feel like your very pelvis is rattling as he continues to fuck you with his fingers. 

Sweat beads on your brow as you try to hold on. He picks up the pace and presses into your walls with his fingertips like he's looking for something. His tongue wreaks havoc on the rest of you, sucking bruises into your inner thighs when he's not abusing your clit. If this is just the foreplay you don't know how you'll survive actually fucking him. And he hasn't even asked you to touch him, hasn't shown even a hint of expectation. He's doing this to get you ready but based on the blown state of his pupils he's enjoying it almost as much as you are. 

"Getting close?" he asks, breath ragged. Your skin is starting to feel deliciously raw from his beard and the hook in your belly is pulling tighter and tighter. 

"Yes -- fuck -- I'm close, Joel, keep --"

His hand moves faster than before and he latches back onto your clit. Your legs start to shake and you feel your orgasm coming, it's just right there, you just need him to --

His fingers find the spot he must have been looking for and your only warning is a sharp tug on his hair and then your back arches and you come all over his face. He fingers fucks you through it and you feel it as your walls clench around him, your mouth open in a high whine as your muscles finally relax and you flop back onto the bed. Joel keeps his face in your cunt, gently lapping at your release while avoiding your sensitive clit. You push his hair back from his face and try to get your breathing under control.

He manages to get up on his own with a grunt as you pant on the bed. "Okay?" he asks. "Lookin' a little tired." You show him your middle finger and he...laughs, lips shiny with your slick. So he can laugh. 

"Are you going to keep your clothes on?" you ask him. His eyes travel slowly over your bare bottom half, the redness of your thighs from his beard and the way your shirt has rucked up to the wire of your bra. 

"Nah." He sits heavily on the edge of the bed to take off his boots and socks. You want to ask him if you can undress him, slowly peel off his layers button by button and explore every inch of him but you won't be able to take it if he says no so you just watch. Already you know you'll be thinking about this night for a long fucking time. The way it seems like he cares about how you're feeling, how he wants to take his time with you, how he enjoys your pleasure. It's nice. It's...making you feel wanted.

His denim button-up is tossed on the floor and he stands, shirtless, to undo his belt. The forearms and small triangle at his throat that you've been treated with thus far when he sits at the bar in no way prepared you for the rest of him. Broad shoulders, thick, muscled arms from years of hard work. Graying chest hair that travels all the way down the slight softness of his belly and in a darker trail his jeans. Your mouth waters. 

"You're starin'," he says softly before unzipping his fly and pushing his jeans and boxers down in one motion. 

"Taste of your own medicine." The words come out with much less bite than you intended as his cock springs free. 

Well, he wasn't lying. He is big. You knew he would be based on what you felt through his pants, but seeing it is something else. 

You sit up and scoot to the end of the bed to be closer. Is he really going to fit? He's bigger than anyone you've fucked before, that's for sure. A ruddy color, a little darker than his tanned chest, the tip a little lighter and already leaking. A few veins run the length of him and the hair at the base of his shaft is clearly taken care of though a little wild and a shade of deep brown that hasn't grayed much yet. His balls hang heavy, one slightly bigger than the other. He twitches under your gaze. You look up at him and wait for him to call out your staring again but instead, he's just watching you, pupils blown. 

"You are...so beautiful," you breathe. He makes a dismissive noise but a flush travels up his chest and to his face. It's true. There's something about him that makes you think you could look every second for the rest of your life and not get enough.

"Should be sayin' that to you." He strokes himself once and you lick your lips. "You got a condom? Should be one in my pocket if you don't." Does he always carry one? Or did he hope to get lucky with you, just like you've been thinking about him?

"Bedside table drawer." He goes for it and you remember too late that the drawer has...other things in it, too. His eyebrows raise and he eyes your small collection of toys but says nothing, though his cock twitches again. If you asked, would he use them on you? He seems like the type to be into that. But right now you need him inside you so badly you might combust.

"Can I?" He pauses before handing the foil square to you. You take him in hand and stroke him from root to tip. He makes a noise low in his throat and you lean in to trace the vein along the bottom of his shaft with your tongue. His hips twitch forward just a bit like he's trying to keep control and failing. You know the feeling. He's warm and heavy on your tongue and the slightest bit salty. You kind of lose the plot for a second, thoughts of him fucking you fading with the desire to make him feel good like this, to blow him until he's moaning your name like you were moaning his.

Joel slides his fingers into your hair and you manage to take him about halfway before he tugs gently. "I'm not complainin'," he says, voice tight. "'Specially when you look so damn pretty like this. But I've been hard as a fuckin' rock for an hour and I ain't as young as I used to be, so..." He trails off.

You place a dainty kiss on his tip and pat his hip. "Another time," you say, realizing too late what you've implied, but Joel just smirks. You tear open the foil and slide the condom on as gingerly as you can but he still hisses your name like he's scolding you, that hand in your hair pulling once again just a little. You feel the arousal pooling in your gut, sticky between your thighs. 

He tugs on the collar of your shirt. "Off," he says. You're quick to obey, whipping it to a corner of your apartment along with your bra. Joel just looks for a second before reaching a calloused hand to palm one breast, thumb sliding over your nipple. "Look at you," he says, breathy, with a squeeze. "Christ."

"You gonna fuck me, Joel Miller?" You blink up at him. He swallows visibly, throat bobbing before that smirk is back. 

"Only ‘cause you asked so nicely." 

You scramble back up the bed on your hands and knees, leaning down on your elbows and presenting him with your bare cunt. "Cause I'm such a lady."

"That so?" he murmurs. He drags his fingers through your folds slowly, brows furrowed. You fist your hands in the sheets. "You want it like this?" he asks. He palms your hip, traces the curve of your ass and presses his fingertips into your skin. You wiggle at him a little. Most guys you hook up with want it like this. You don't mind being fucked from behind, don't mind being able to close your eyes with your face shoved in the sheets and just feel. God knows with a dick his size you'll be feeling it regardless of the position you're in. But part of you does want to look at Joel, to watch him, his expression, his handsome, rugged face. Feel his arms around you, feel the warmth of his breath on your lips as he fucks you. See what his eyes look like when he comes. But this is enough.

"Do I need to say please?"

The head of his cock presses against your entrance in reply. You crane your neck to see as much of him as you can. He's focused on your ass with a light frown, hands resting on your hips.

"Gonna go slow," he grumbles. His gaze meets yours. "For my benefit as much as yours."

Words don't come. You're breathless and dripping, desperate for him to just get on with it. 

"Joel, are you gonna just stand there --"

He slowly, torturously slowly, starts to slide into you. The stretch is immediate, has you face down in the sheets, eyes fluttering. Each inch of painful stretch fades quickly to throbbing pleasure, a fullness that has you keening. 

You press your hips back into him but his fingers grip tighter, holding you in place. "What did I say?" he grits out. 

"Feels so good, so big," you babble. There's nothing left in your brain, your body, but this. But Joel. You have to have all of him. "I can take it, I can take your cock, I --"

"Got quite the mouth on you, huh?" he says. He keeps pressing into you, filling you up inch by inch. "Okay?" he pants. "Look at me, tell me it feels good --"

You crane your neck again, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes and look at him. His own are lidded, mouth open in an "o" like he can hardly believe it himself. A flush runs down his chest and if you didn't know better you'd say he's trembling.

"Yes, I -- god, Joel, keep going, please --"

"Doin' good, sweetheart," he coos. His hand strokes up and down your spine. "Almost there. Almost takin' all of me."

He bottoms out and you see stars. You feel lips on your back, the warm puffs of his breath on your skin as he waits for you. It's a fine line between pain and pleasure and you're walking the tightrope but the stretch is delicious. You can feel every inch of him. Your heartbeat is loud in your ears and you shift your hips a little, loving it when Joel moans.

"Alright," you manage. "Move, please." His fingertips are back on your hips and give you a squeeze before he starts to drag his cock out of you. The tip of him catches the spot inside of you that makes your back arch as he pulls out and then again when he thrusts in. 

"All that work, my fingers and my tongue and you're still so fuckin' tight. Christ."

The only thing you manage to say is a litany of his name.

"Lemme hear it, baby," he grinds out. Baby. "Be so loud those fuckers downstairs hear you--"

You meet his thrusts as best you can and even though it feels so good, even though you're so full, it's not bringing you to the edge like you need. Your neck is starting to hurt from the way you're twisting to see him, your fingers gripping the sheets as hard as you can because you want to be touching him instead. But this is good, this works, maybe if you touch your clit, you'll --

You reach between your legs and Joel pulls out. You get off your elbows and turn around, almost gasping at the loss of him. "Is something wrong?"

He's frowning at you. "Should be askin' you that."

You don't know what to say. Your cunt throbs a little from being empty, the ache settling in now that he's not there to literally fuck it away. "What?"

"You stopped makin' those noises," he says softly. “The ones you were makin’ before.” You turn around and sit facing him, suddenly a little self-conscious. "Ain't gonna fuck you in a position you don't like."

"I --" You try to fight through the haze of your brain for words. "I liked it fine."

Joel waits. He just stands there at the edge of the bed and waits. 

"Maybe..." you try again. "Would on my back be okay for you?"

His eyebrows raise like he can't believe you'd think otherwise. "That'll work for me," he says slowly. "Grab a pillow." You shift back on the bed as he kneels on it, positioning himself between your legs. You hand him one of your pillows and he taps your hip. "Up." You obey and he slides it under you so your lower half is lifted a bit before he presses one leg to the side, spreading you open. He slowly bends the other so that your thigh is pressed against your torso in a deep stretch without being painful. You feel bare, exposed in a way he somehow hasn't yet achieved. 

Joel fixes his gaze on your face. "Let's try that." He strokes himself once and then leans over you, bracing himself on one hand near your head. He lines up to press his cock into you again. Faster than last time, you wince a little but you dig your fingertips into his back to tell him to keep going. He bottoms out and you immediately feel the difference, eyes fluttering shut. Before it was like he was plowing into you, like you were so full you could hardly handle it. But like this it's like he's melting into you, like there is no space between you anymore. You're full but it's not so harsh. You don’t know where you end and he begins.

"That better?" he croaks. You force yourself to look at him and find his face closer, closer than you thought he'd get, breath warm on your face. His forehead is beaded with sweat and his eyes search your face. This close you can see they’re grey, the lines at the corners deep with strain. Even like this, stuffed full of his cock, you could look at him all day.

"Move, Joel," you tell him. He takes that for a yes and starts at a punishing pace. You have no idea how he's kept it together this long, considering you've felt on the edge of another orgasm this entire time. You anchor your arms on his shoulders as his thrusts make you see stars. 

"Ask for what you want, you hear me?" His balls smack loudly against you and he presses his lips to your ear. "You ask and I'll do my damn best."

You don't know what it is -- the overwhelming sensation of his cock dragging in and out at this angle, how close he is, his words -- but you feel tears at the corners of your eyes again. You nod frantically, hands grasping for purchase on his back. 

"C'mon," Joel says. "Gotta use that mouth, sweetheart."

"Yes," you pant. "Yes, yes, Joel, yes --"

"Fuckin' perfect for me," he moans. His lips trail up your cheek, tongue catching your tears before he presses them to yours in a messy kiss that's more teeth and breath than anything else. 

"Joel, Joel, Joel --"

"Gonna come for me? Gonna soak my cock like you did my face?"

Your orgasm comes like the snap of a rubber band. You hold him as tight as you can as it washes through you, the waves almost painful as he keeps fucking you fast and hard, your name a series of broken sounds from his mouth until his hips stutter and he groans deep in his chest. You try to keep your eyes on him as you come down from your high and are rewarded with the scrunch of his brow and the slight part of his lips as he comes. Beautiful, you think. 

The room is all of sudden much quieter without the sounds of your fucking. It's just the dull sounds of Frank's through the floor and your combined panting as he pulls out of you and flops on the bed beside you. You wince this time, the soreness really settling in. Joel finds your hand and kisses the back of it in a move so unexpectedly tender you can't look at him, raw as you are already. The bed shifts and you figure he's throwing out the condom. 

"You okay?" he says. You open your eyes and find him standing at the edge, looking at you. He's holding your robe from the bathroom. You stretch and let him look. 

"Yeah," you reply. You give him a smile as you scoot to the edge and wrap yourself in it when he holds it out. "Thank you." Joel grunts. 

You go to the bathroom yourself to pee and see the damage. Hair a mess, your mascara gathered around your eyes like you've been working hard. You've got hickies forming on your neck and chest, the skin rubbed a bit raw from his beard around your mouth. You love how you look right now. 

You look like you got fucked well. And you did. 

But now you want a shower and a snack and to go to bed. 

You half expect Joel to be gone when you go back into the bedroom. You remember belatedly that you don't let hookups stay the night. Will he leave if you ask him to? If he's already left then you don't need to worry about it. A small part of you worries you won’t ask him to go.

Instead, he's sitting on the edge of your bed putting his boots on. His shirt is unbuttoned but other than that he's dressed. He looks up briefly. His own hair is going in a thousand different directions and if this wasn't a one-night stand you'd fix it for him, a hand pushing it back like you did when he was between your thighs. But things are different outside the heat of the moment. 

"You want some water or anything?" you ask instead.

He shakes his head and finishes his boot, stands and buttons his shirt. "Nah," he says. "Should just head out."

You wonder belatedly if there's anyone at home missing him. Maybe he's got a wife. Maybe he's got a life that he's running away from and into your arms. 

"Bar'll be closed by now, or as good as," you say. You spy his jacket by the door and bend to pick it up. "No one'll see you."

Joel's face does something funny that you don't quite know how to read. He takes his jacket from you and shrugs it on. "Alright," he says. 

He looks awkward in a way you didn't know he could so you throw him a line. "Thanks," you say. For fucking me. For listening to me. For making me feel good. "It was fun. See you around?"

His expression softens. He steps close and gently holds your chin with his thumb and forefinger before kissing you once, firmly but chastely compared to what you were doing before. 

"See you around," he says. And then he opens the door and disappears down the stairs. 

You hear the outer door close and only then do you let out a breath. Your entire body feels like you just spent hours at the gym. But your mind? It's going a thousand miles an hour. You don't know what to think about first -- how Joel looked, how he spoke to you, how his hands felt. How he implored you to ask for what you wanted, how he made you feel good because it made him feel good. How you desperately, desperately want to see him again, to know him in every possible way. How you want him to walk back up the stairs and hold you until you fall asleep.

And that's not how you expected to feel. It's not how you should feel after a one-night stand with a guy you serve a few times a week at your place of employment. Like he saw right to the core of you, like he gave you something you didn't know you needed. 

You need to get a hold of yourself. This is how it starts -- this is how you get hurt. You care. Well, you always care, but no one has to know that. You let someone care about you. Not that Joel does, but he could. 

But isn't that the one thing you want most of all? 

You sleep in the next day. There's not much that needs to be done at Frank's besides bookkeeping and inventory which doesn't take you long. When you finally make it downstairs, three Advil popped to ease the soreness of your entire body, you're surprised to find Bill himself sitting at the bar. 

He looks just as you remember, hair a little longer and a little grayer. Shit kickers and jeans, a hunting jacket and trucker hat. You'll bet his actual truck is parked around back where no one from the road can see it. 

"Uh, hi?" Bill hasn't come around for at least a year, which is making your stomach sink a little. The last time was when there was a fire because some dumbass tried to smoke inside and he wanted to make sure you weren't going to quit on him for having to throw water on the nasty curtains. 

"Heard about Seth," he says. Always right to the point, this guy. He's drinking what looks to be Coke with a lemon. "Sit." You do as he says. So much for bookkeeping.

"Yep," you say. You have no idea where he heard it and know better than to ask. "No big deal."

"I want to retire."

What? "Do you...work here?" Bill appreciates honesty and he's the kind of asshole that respects you if you're an asshole back. 

"No," he says. "But I own the fuckin' dump. And me and Frank want to retire."

"There's a Frank?"

"My partner, dumbass. Keep up."

You were already groggy and still muddled from last night but this is forcing you to bring everything into sharp focus. Bill wants to retire. Which means he wants to...

"So my options are to sell this dump or find someone to take it."

If he sells the bar you're shit out of luck. No way another owner would let you live upstairs the way you do for next to nothing and let you work here and run the show. This is...a lot to take in.

"Are you listening to me?" Bill says. You blink a few times. 

"No," you admit. "Can you say that again?"

He sighs. "Do you want it?"

"The bar?" you ask incredulously. 

"No, idiot, the dumpster out back. Yes, the bar." He raps his knuckles on the bar top. "You could keep everything the same. It's just paperwork, really. I'll just give it to you. God knows a young person like you could make it nicer, turn a better profit." He says it like it's an insult. 

"Are you fucking serious?" This goes against most every rule you've had for yourself for the last who knows how long. Don't get attached, keep moving. No one really needs you so you can disappear whenever. You haven't gotten bored yet, haven't gotten restless, but you know it'll happen. There's no way you can do this forever. But owning a bar? That would make you stay. You'd have no out. You’d have to let yourself be seen, let yourself be needed. You’d have to commit. You’d have to not fuck it up.

"Why not?" he shrugs. "I know you said it was temporary back when you moved in, but you practically run it."

He's right. Everything is temporary for you. But would sticking around be so bad? Would trying to actually make a life for yourself, have a home base, a thing you care about be the end of the world? And then there's Joel...No. Not going there. 

"I..."

"Either you take it or I shut it down." Bill gets off his stool and looks around. "No one cares enough about it to try to sell it."

"Then why me?"

"Do you care about it?" he asks. His piercing stare pins you to your stool, compels you to be honest with him where you're rarely honest with yourself. 

"Yeah," you say. "I do."

"Then there's you're fuckin' answer. I know you do. You clean the shit out of this place and train the seasonal dipshits and learn the names of the fuckin’ drunks and live upstairs and make this a good place for good people to come. You think no one notices, but I notice. We all notice." It's possibly the most words Bill has ever said to you in a row. 

"Can I...think about it?"

He shrugs. "Sure," he says. "Not too long, though. Gotta decide by the end of the year. Maybe earlier."

That gives you three months, give or take. To figure out what the fuck you're going to do.

With one conversation Bill has shattered your entire life here. Now there’s actually a timer on it, this little piece you’ve carved out and started to enjoy. Could you make it a real thing? Could you finally admit to yourself that this is what you want – to be wanted? To be needed? To have something that’s yours?

The bar door shuts and you realize Bill has left you alone with your thoughts. You shift in your stool and a wave of soreness rolls through you from your core. 

You thunk your forehead on the bar. “Fuck me,” you say to the empty room. 

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback!

[drxmxss]

Our Eternal Novel °❀.ೃ࿔*

LADS Xavier × Reader

Summary: A cozy bookstore, a love for classics, a small town, a secret and an eternal promise of forever...What could happen when Y/N meets a stranger at her local bookstore who is not who he seems?

Content Warnings: Vampire! Xavier x Human!Reader, 18+, mentions of murder, missing persons, blood, death, injury, stalking/obsessive tendencies, biting, smut (will have a separate and more descriptive warning when included in chapter), more warnings to be added as the story progresses, maybe some oocness (this is my first xavier fic bare with me) reader discretion advised

Additional Warnings: Fingering, kinda sorta dubcon if u squint, desperate Xavier & reader, it just gets a lil nasty here

a/n: Hii everyone I am so sorry for the delay! Here is chapter 4! The next update won’t be for a while but look forward to it! Thank you!! Enjoy! 💞

Chapter Four: Taste

That night, Xavier and you stayed in the living room talking. He answered every question about himself you had.

“So..how old are you really?” You began, Xavier gave you a small smile, which made you have to ignore the flutter it gave your heart.

“I was 24 when I woke up as this.” Xavier explained. “Unfortunately I don’t remember much of my life before that, but I’ve been traveling alone since then..for about 150 years.”

“Wow..doesn’t it ever get lonely? Traveling place to place?” You ask. Xavier stared at you for a moment, considering his answer.

“Yes and no. I’ve met others like me and..they aren’t the best company sometimes. Territorial or moral differences in who we should feed off of don’t mix well.” He answered, making you raise an eyebrow.

“Moral differences? What do you mean?”

“Some vampires just like to feed off whoever catches their eye, or some unlucky loner walking by. I think it’s cruel, so I try to only feed off bad guys.”

“So you’re an undead vigilante. Got it.” You chuckle, Xavier smiles softly again.

“Did you..feed off that guy earlier?” You ask him, stomach queasy. Xavier frowns, “No I didn’t actually, I didn’t want to make a mess and scare you more.”

“Oh, alright then..Do you have like special powers or something?” Xavier seems to hold back a laugh, “Nothing cool like telapathy or anything, I can run faster and I’m stronger than any human. My senses are heightened as well.”

“No telpathy? Or even flying. That’s disappointing.” You complain, making Xavier laugh honestly this time. His laughter makes you smile and join along, and you notice how comfortable you feel around him.

“What else would you want to know?” Xavier asks, leaning back into you couch.

“Do you like..burn in the sun? Or sparkle?”

Xavier smiles again, “No, not that I noticed at least but I sleep during the day anyway.”

You stare at him, bewildered. “But you only came to the store on gloomy days? The sun really has no effect on you?”

Xavier chuckles, “That was merely a coincidence. I sleep during the day most of the time, easier to feed at night and all. But I can always change up the schedule.”

You nod, “I think that’s all my questions for now.”

“You should sleep, it’s pretty late and I don’t want to make you too tired for work.” Xavier says, standing up.

“I don’t go in tomorrow, and..” You trail off, debating your words. “You can stay here, if you want.”

Xavier looks at you confused. You shrug, “You already told me you come here every night to watch me. I’m just giving you the offer.”

Xavier smiles, “I suppose that’s true. As long as your okay with it.” You smile back, “Of course, let me get you a blanket and pillow.

You quickly run to your closet to get the extra bedding, and come back to Xavier already laying down on the couch, eyes closed and fast aleep. A twinge of guilt tugs at your heart, he must have been exhausted, even for a vampire.

“Here you go.” You whisper, draping the blanket over him. “My bedroom door will be open if you need anything.”

Xavier doesn’t respond, and you decide its better to let him rest. You turn off the lights as you make your way to your room to prepare for bed, trying your best to ignore the swirl of emotions in your mind.

*

A heavy weight on your chest wakes you from your sleep, and you open your eyes to meet Xavier’s.

Except this time, they are pitch black and wild.

You struggle against him, his weight on top of you holding you down. “Xavier?” You mumble, “What are you-“

Suddenky, he turns his head to graze his teeth against your jugular, breathing heavily.

“I-I waited too long.” He whispers raggedly, making you shiver. He inhales deeply, “To feed..”

You struggle against him now, fear rushing through your veins.”Xavier get off of me-“

Suddenly he grabs both your hands and pins them above your head, making you gasp. His tight grip holds your arms high up, and he leans down to listen to your erratic heartbeat.

“Y/N..” He whispers, looking up at you “Please..help me..Let me..” He trails off, making his way to inhale the scent of your neck.

“Xavier wait, you’re not in the right frame of mind”

“Just a taste, I promise Y/N. I”ve heard it can make you feel good sometimes. Please Y/N” Xavier, dazed, whispers desperately. “It hurts..I’m so weak.”

Guilt suddenly washes over you, were you the reason he waited so long to feed? Were you the reason he was basically starving himself?

“O-okay.” You whisper, “Please don’t hurt me.”

Xavier pulls away slightlt, his black eyes stare into yours.

“I won’t hurt you, Y/N. I swear it’s gonna be over quick.” He says sternly, but releases his tight grip in yout hands to caress your cheek. His ice skin feels soothing to your hot cheeks.

Quickly, Xavier leans down, and you feel his breath against your jugular. You close your eyes tightly, body tensing as you feel his teeth graze you skin.

You feel his teeth bite down, and your arms wrap around him, clinging tightly. You let out a squeak, the pain in your neck almost making you scream.

You hear sickly sucking noises coming from Xavier as seering pain envelopes your neck from his bite, you struggle against him now, beginning to regret trusting his judgment in this state.

Suddenly, the pain begins to die down and your mind races.This made you think you were either dying or Xavier was finishing soon.

However, you quickly realize you were wrong.

The pain seems to turn into pleasure, a wave of tingling electricity washes over you. Terrified you grip onto Xavier tighter, gasping and unable to form words. Your mind turns to mush, only focusing on the sudden pleasure rushing through you.

“X-Xavier? P-please help me.” You barely manage to gasp out, the intense pleasure continues to wash over you in waves, making you fight back a moan. You still hear Xavier sucking the blood out of the wound on your neck, but it suddenly comes to a stop.

Xavier pulls away from your neck and leans back, you open your eyes to meet his still black and crazed ones. “Help you?” He mumbles, his mouth dripping with your blood. You shiver, the sight seems to only intensify your tingling.

Without thinking, you grab his hand and place it on top of your core, above your sleep shorts that were bound to be ruined.

“H-here.. It feels..Please” You beg, too incoherent to ask properly, Xaviers eyes stare into yours for a quick moment, before leaning down to kiss you.

Immediately you taste your own blood on his tongue, and a moan vibrates deep in his chest as he quickly shoves his hand into your panties. You gasp into the kiss, his fingers feeling icy but quickly warming up as he shoved two into your soaked cunt, fingering you at a brutal pace, his thumb rubbing your clit in tandem.

Xavier pulls away from your kiss, still deep in your core and smiles softly, “You are so beautiful like this.” He whispers, kissing your cheek before leaning down to continue his minstrations on your neck.

Feeling his teeth sink into you again is nowhere near painful, the intense pleasure of his fingers inside you and the effect of his bite making you crave more of him, moaning out his name without fear now. You would soon take the risk of death for the chance to feel this good again.

Too soon, you feel a knot form deep in your stomach, Xavier’s fingers still inside you.

“I’m close.” You whimper, tugging at Xavier’s shirt again. Xavier once again stops sucking the blood from your neck to whisper into your.

“Go ahead darling.” He said, “I’m finished now, just let go for me sweet girl.”

His pet names make your mind mush, as you feel the instense snap of your orgasm in your core, with Xavier’s fingering you through it. The waves of pleasure crash over you hard, making you almost scream out.

Finally, you feel your heartrate slow, and you close your eyes and succumb to darkness.

a/n: taglist! comment below to be added!

@onebatch--twobatch

[paperbacksinner]

if you're still taking Joe requests can you write something about Joe watching you tuch yourself through the window? (Can be an idea for the next part of TTG)

Through the Glass - Part 4

TW: masturbation (f + m), voyeurism, Joe’s cage has a new resident 👀

———

It happens after Nathan disappears. No one asks questions. No one cares enough to.

One day he’s texting you, showing up at your door like he owns you. The next? His Instagram goes dark. His phone rings once and then nothing.

You look shaken at first — eyes darting to the street when you come home, flinching at shadows, locking your door twice.

You even knock on mine again. “Have you seen Nathan?”

I say no.

I say it gently.

You nod. You trust me. You leave behind a scent I’m still breathing hours later.

But tonight… tonight is different.

Tonight you’re alone in your apartment, the lights low, no music playing. Your windows are open — no blinds, no curtains, just the faint glow of the city and the flickering TV light.

I don’t mean to look. I swear I don’t. But I always do.

You’re wearing a tank top and little sleep shorts. Curled in bed, knees drawn up. You keep shifting, fidgeting, thighs squeezing together.

Then, slowly, you slide your hand down.

And I go still.

You think no one can see. You think you’re alone.

I can barely breathe.

You touch yourself under the blanket at first. Soft, tentative movements. Your head tips back slightly, mouth falling open. Then you kick the blanket off altogether — and I see everything.

Your hand disappears under your waistband.

You’re slow. Gentle. Like you’re savoring it. Like you’re thinking of someone.

God help me if it’s me.

My hand’s already in my lap, hard and aching, moving in time with yours as I watch your hips rock, your lips part, your fingers move faster.

God, you came — hand buried between your thighs, eyes closed and mouth parted. And I watched it all.

You don’t even know I’m right here.

But I am. I see you. Always.

I couldn’t help it. I never can, when it comes to you.

I came, too. Quietly. Pathetically. Standing half-naked in my dark apartment, one hand braced against the windowpane like some kind of addict watching his favorite drug dissolve behind glass.

It wasn’t about sex. Not really. Not fully.

It was about you. Raw. Unfiltered. Untouched by expectation.

You were real.

And for a few minutes, I got to be with you.

Afterward, you curled into your sheets, legs drawn up, fingers still resting on your stomach like you forgot they were there. You fell asleep within minutes. Like you were safe. Like you trusted the silence around you.

Later, I’ll clean myself up.

Later, I’ll feel guilty and do it again.

But right now?

Right now I fall a little deeper in love.

———

You still don’t know what I did.

Nathan isn’t gone.

Not entirely.

He’s just… contained.

He’s in the box. The glass one. Below the shop.

Yes, I’m back at the bookstore — a new location, new name. I told myself I was done with this life, with cages, but then he pushed you. Raised his voice. Left you waiting. Showed up drunk.

He doesn’t deserve you.

So I did what had to be done.

Nathan’s not a talker. He yells, sure. He kicks the walls. He calls me names. But deep down, he knows. He feels it — the justice of it all. He’s the kind of guy who’s gotten away with too much for too long, and now it’s catching up.

He asked me what this was about.

“Is this about her?” he asked on day two. “Are you fucking her or something, dude? That it?”

I didn’t answer. He doesn’t deserve your name in his mouth.

“She’s not even mine,” he laughed. “She’s just easy.”

That’s when I shut the light off.

Let him sit in the dark.

You’ve been quieter since he vanished.

A little shaken. You don’t play your music as loud. You keep the door double-locked. Your cat sits in your lap more often, like she senses it too — the shift.

You knocked once, just to say hi. Asked me if I’d heard anything. I said no, gently. Poured you tea you didn’t finish.

You told me you were nervous about being alone.

I said you’re not.

I meant it.

Nathan isn’t dead.

Not yet.

I keep thinking: maybe I let him rot. Maybe I let the hunger wear him down until he understands the cost of touching something pure with dirty hands.

Or maybe I end it.

Quickly. Cleanly.

For you.

Because you deserve a life without fear. Without shadows. Without wondering why the men who touch you always leave bruises.

I wouldn’t leave bruises.

I’d leave flowers. Notes. Warm coffee.

Love you the way you’re meant to be loved — quietly, daily, obsessively.

Tonight, I stand by the window again.

You’ve changed into a different tank top. You're brushing your hair, yawning. You leave your windows open like always. Trusting the dark to keep you hidden.

But I see everything.

And I think—

Soon.

[samgirl98]

Mending a Family 50/?

Prev | Next

Jason felt stupid. Why hadn't he gone to Ghostwriter from the beginning? The other ghost would’ve helped, and even if he couldn’t, Danny’s signature was headed toward the bookstore. Jason couldn’t blame anyone but himself. He let his emotions take over, and it cost him precious time.

Time his son didn’t have.

Jason had decided flying would be quicker than driving.

Talia had climbed on his back while he held on to Bruce and Dick in his arms. It was a bit awkward but doable. He turned them invisible in case anyone looked up. Raven was using a cloaking spell so no one could see her and Jazz.

Jazz had decided she couldn’t stay behind. While Dick and Bruce had put on their suit, she had argued she knew how the Fentons operated. She made sense, but they couldn’t leave Ellie alone.

In the end, Raven teleported Ellie to Wayne Manor. Ellie did not like the idea, but she reluctantly agreed when they explained their reasoning. Jason could tell that Dick and Bruce had been a bit weirded out by how intelligent Ellie was, but Jason couldn’t do anything about that. They didn’t have time to explain that Ellie might look like an infant, but she was mentally older.

Jason entered the building intangibly with his passengers and opened the door for Raven and Jazz.

“Little Wing, that was amazing,” Dick exclaimed.

Jason grunted, too tired from using his powers more than ever.

“You okay,” Dick asked.

Jason nodded. He could tell Bruce had questions, but the man held back from voicing them. It was fine, if they helped him find Danny, Jason would answer Bruce's questions.

“Ghostwriter,” Jason called out, “You here?”

Jason walked through the bookstore with everyone else trailing behind him. The bookstore was eerily quiet. Usually, Ghostwriter’s whistling could be heard throughout the store or, if that wasn’t the case, his typewriter. Now, though, there was nothing.

“I don’t feel Ghostwriter, but I feel a tear of some kind,” Raven said and took the lead. She led them to the back of the store. Jason saw a green that made him, Talia, and Bruce stop and tense. Jazz ran toward it without hesitation. Jason yelled behind her, trying to stop her. That color was always bad news.

“Jazz, stop!”

“No, that’s a portal! Guys, that’s a portal to the Infinite Realms. That’s probably how the Fentons got here, and that’s most likely where they took Danny. We have to stop them. Who knows what kind of damage they could do to Danny and the Infinite Realms?”

Jazz continued running, with the rest of them following her. They stopped in front of a thin green line.

“What are the Infinite Realms,” Dick asked.

“It’s the space between realities, the glue that holds them all together. It also holds every afterlife in existence, from purgatory to Hades and even some you’ve never heard of.”

“Sounds overwhelming,” Dick said.

“Don’t worry, I know how to navigate it. And if it’s anywhere near the portal the Fentons built, finding the way will be even easier. I also have allies I can call if we get lost. I doubt we will, though.

“Okay,” Jason said, “Let’s go.”

“Wait,” Bruce yelled out, “We need to make a plan.”

“No, no plan. That will take too much time, time Danny doesn’t have!”

“I understand, Jason, but we have to come up with some type of plan if we want to succeed.”

Jason gritted his teeth, “I have a plan: it’s called the ‘get my son back from some lunatics even if I have to kill them’ plan.”

“Jason, Bruce is right. We can’t go in there without a gameplan,” Dick said.

“I have a plan,” Jazz said. She took out a white and green stick and turned it into a staff.

“Raven, stay here in case we don’t come back. " She took out a watch and fiddled with it. “Here, if we’re not back in two hours, call for help. Batman,” Jazz turned toward Bruce, “you can come, or you can stay. I don’t care, but I am saving my little brother; damn the consequences.”

Without another word, Jazz jumped into the tear. Jason followed right after her, ignoring the shouts of his parents.

He had to save his son.

____

The first thing Bruce noticed was the color green—Lazarus green. The place was saturated in the color, making him feel nauseous.

The second thing he noticed were the doors and floating islands.

“So this is the afterlife, huh,” Dick asked. “I must say, it’s a bit boring to look at.”

Talia didn’t say anything but observed her surroundings with a calculated look.

“There,” Jazz said while pointing in a random direction, “That’s the portal.”

“How can you tell,” Bruce asked. He had to make sure.

“I know the entrance to my old haunt. Think of it like a homing system; I can sense that’s the portal. Let’s go.”

Jazz started floating, surprising Bruce. Jason shouted in surprise, validating Bruce’s original assumption.

“Hey, if you could fly, why’d you make Raven carry you,” Dick asked.

“I can’t. In the Infinite Realms, humans have ghost-like powers. I’ve been practicing, so I know how to use them here. However, we don’t have time to teach you guys, so Jason will have to carry you again. Sorry.”

With that, she left them behind.

“Hurry up,” Jason said, “I’m not getting left behind.”

Bruce nodded. He knew the desperate feeling of not being too late to save your son. He refused to be the reason Jason was feeling that way.

Bruce let Jason carry them. Other superheroes had carried him through the air, but this felt different. It was as if gravity didn’t exist, and if Jason let him go, he wouldn’t fall but be suspended in the air.

Bruce didn’t like the sensation.

They reached Jazz quickly. She had stopped in front of a swirl just a shade darker than their surrounding area. She gave a quick nod and entered.

Bruce had no idea what they were walking into, but he would help his son and bring his grandson home.

[yuzurins]

# to tell you the truth

04 — strangers with memories

smau masterlist ∗ previous chapter ∗ next chapter

was it foolish for you to assume that you wouldn’t encounter anyone you knew while working at a bookstore less than a kilometre away from your university? 

probably.

be it anyone else, you most definitely wouldn’t have reacted this dramatically. but of course it had to be itoshi rin, coincidentally the one guy you wanted to avoid at all costs. you haven't seen the guy in person since high school graduation, and this was definitely not how you expected it to go.

when you first realized it was him back at the bookstore, you quickly bowed and turned around to pack up your belongings, hoping he got the message. it irked you to even spare a single glance at his face, as his features dug up memories that you worked too hard to bury. knowing rin, you expected him to leave immediately after to avoid interacting with you, but to your surprise, the athlete walked over expressionless and casually placed 2 books down.

“these two," he pauses and inhales, "please.”

you held back a very strong urge to gasp; never in a million years would you have ever believed that the itoshi rin would ever say that 6 letter word to you. what was this guy up to? was he trying to deploy reverse psychology or something?

“okay.” you pursed your lips, and scanned his books. “are you signed up for our membership program?”

he merely nods.

you raise an eyebrow. so it isn’t his first time here?

as he punches in his phone number, you take the moment to examine his figure out of curiosity, though not much as changed about him since high school. you do notice that his eyes seem half-lidded, and you hate it so much how the first thought that comes to mind is the fact that it’s past his regular bedtime. 

"what are you even doing here..." you mumble subconsciously a little too loudly, widening your eyes immediately after as if you had asked yourself that question. (though it wasn't really a question and more of a complaint)

rin scoffs, breaking his stupid act. "buying books? obviously?"

"did you have to come to this store?" the receipt starts coming out and you place it in a bag with the books, handing it over to him reluctantly after. "and this late too?"

he snatches the bag from you with more force than needed. "why does it matter to you? shouldn't you be grateful i'm even giving you business?"

"gee. wow. thanks."

"you better be."

you roll your eyes at him. "thought you still slept at 8 like an old person.”

"thought you were smarter than to assume nothing's changed." rin furrows his brows, narrowing his eyes at you.

shrugging, you rest your head on the back of your palm and stare at him. "i just thought you still had no life. and i'm not wrong about that, am i?"

he grits his teeth and you find yourself smirking at his exasperation, until he says, "at least what i do with my life gets me results, miss second place."

he did not just say that.

you retract your arm from the desk to cross them, a scowl adorning your face. "watch your words, itoshi. you better savour that moment as much as you can because it's not happening again."

rin smiles sarcastically before turning around and leaving. you scoff, but it isn’t until you hear the bell of the door ring that you feel safe enough to exhale. there was no way that that just happened right now. you were so focused on not trying not embarrass yourself in front of rin that it slipped your mind what books he bought, but it didn’t matter anyway. why did you even care if you embarrassed yourself in front of him? every memory about what happened then has been locked away, and you swear that you wouldn't hold a childish grudge anymore. the only reason why you still act bitter to him is because he suddenly keeps scoring higher than you, and your pride refuses to back down to him.

rin’s just an annoying guy who just keeps getting lucky in school, that’s all. 

a notification from reo brings you back to reality, reminding you that you’re technically working overtime now and you need to close up as soon as possible. 

as you walk out of the door, you fish out your phone and respond to incoming texts from the groupchat, humming to yourself as music played in your ears. the route home is more than familiar enough to you, but you still take a glance at the area around the bookstore just in case. there’s a park, a ramen store, an aesthetic cafe, and a convenience store that someone dressed in all black is exiting. that’s unusual, you think, because it’s late, and this neighbourhood is fairly secluded.

then you remember who was just at your store and would be in the proximity of the area. 

hurriedly, you turn around and speedwalk in the direction of your apartment. he shouldn’t have seen you, right?

there’s a slight rustling of leaves and you warily steal a quick glance behind you without thinking.

why on earth is itoshi rin walking behind you now?

notes: hi sorry it’s late i fg LOL n e ways i don't like this !!! but writer block is killing me and i need to write something so bear with this t-t you get the idea anyways (barely proof but its ok)

pairing ∗ itoshi rin x f!reader

synopsis — all you wanted was a peaceful and productive uni life, but despite your pleas, your plans start crumbling when the star of the football team, itoshi rin, begins to beat you in every aspect possible. as you confront the inevitable, what happens when you uncover secrets behind an unforgettable event from the past?

taglist ∗ send an ask / comment to be added or removed

@kitorin @starthz @jleijl @rintosei @strawberrypockybox @beanxiv @ode2rin @h4nman @hanmastattoos @kaitfae @idk-bro-gay @piichuu @wishiknewwhatiwasdoingwithmylife @invictax @chaosinanutshell @exatse @kirameki-kumo @heartsoji @mellozhi @certaindreampost @limerence-lu @nutsinspector @kawaii-angelanne @rroxii @saesins @anngelllla @anurst @y-sabell-a @hellothere9597 @evilenchantresss @msameikanevaeh (if your name is in bold it means i can't tag you)

[bambiiflowers]

Chapter 4. Test

A solid start. A small conversation. An exchange of smiles. You asked my name, and then you smiled at me like I was worth smiling at. Fuck this? No, fuck that. The self-pity, the whining, the waiting for the universe to do the heavy lifting. I’m done with that. You’re too important, too rare. And me? I’m good to go. I’m ready. I’ve spent weeks Cassie, weeks learning how to read you, peeling off your layers like a perfectly wrapped present. You think I don’t see you, but I do Cassie.

You don’t need some Ryan Gosling Notebook bullshit where I let you go in a rainstorm, hoping you’ll come running back while some terrible piano track swells in the background. You don’t need James McAvoy in that weird movie with Christina Ricci and the pig face letting you go because "I can't fix you". No. You don’t need someone who hesitates. Someone who stumbles over their words, you don’t need the kind of guy who lets you take the lead just so he can smugly tell himself he respects your “independence.” Independence is bullshit. You need someone who takes control, who takes the step you’re too scared to take.

So here I am, across the street from your flower shop, watching you. I swore I’d never star in a rom-com, but for you? I’d rewrite the genre. There you are, outside, carrying decorations to your storefront, making me feel like a man who needs a goddamn montage set to every breath you take by the police.

You’re outside, decorating your storefront, and you’re oblivious to the fact that you’re starring in the most important moment of my life wearing a purple shirt paired with a blue skirt. Hot pink tights that scream, “Look at me,” and trust me, I am. Your legs, Cassie. You don’t even know what you’re doing to me. And the shoes; brown with beige details. Not sexy, not flashy. Just enough to say, “I didn’t try.” But the claw clip in your hair, that lime-green abomination holding up your wet hair? It’s ridiculous, and yet you make it look deliberate, purposeful. You’re a contradiction, Cassie. The chaos of a Jackson Pollock with the precision of Da Vinci. The Birth of Venus if Picasso had gotten drunk and decided to make her better.

You’re humming, and I’d bet my life it’s some cheesy pop song you love to belt out when no one’s watching. And there they are again: the rings. Too many rings, clinking together like wind chimes, Paired with bracelets that would look ridiculous on anyone else but on you? Perfection. You’re a walking contradiction: chaotic yet curated. Beautifully messy. A masterpiece.

You turn to head inside, and I can’t help but admire the sway of your hips, the perfect curve of your ass. I stand there mesmerized for about 2 minutes until I come black to the sad reality, you're not mine yet. Not yet. That's why I'm here.

I step inside your flower shop. The smell is overwhelming, intoxicating, a heady mix of flowers and you. The essence of Cassie. This is your space, your world.

Your eyes find me immediately. You don’t just see me; you light up like I’m the answer to a question you didn’t know you were asking. I see your lips form a perfect “O,” and for a moment, I think about what else that mouth could do. And then, that smile. Wide, real, like you saved it just for me.

“Hi!” you say, and your voice is sugar. Sticky, addictive, impossible to scrape off. “I was just thinking about you!” Fuck yes! You were thinking about me.

“Oh, really?” I ask, raising an eyebrow, trying to sound casual while my heart races like a goddamn teenager’s.

“Yes!” you say, that smile still untouched. “I was about to go to your bookstore. I realized you don’t have many decorations there, so I got you this.”

You hold out a cactus. It’s small, just the size of my hand, nestled in a clay planter. You cradle it with both hands, careful, like it’s a baby bird. So many rings. Of course, you’d pick something like this, low-maintenance, resilient. Thoughtful, but not overbearing.

“A cactus,” I say, letting the word hang between us. A smile escaping my lips

“I didn’t know if you were a plant person,” you continue, biting your lip ever so slightly, “so I thought this might be easier to handle.”

Easier to handle. God, Cassie. You’re giving me a gift, no, a piece of you, and it takes everything in me not to touch you. Not to grab your wrist and kiss the palm of your hand, taste the salt of your skin, slide a ring off with my teeth.

I take the planter from you, our hands brushing for just a second. A spark. You felt it too, didn’t you?

"Thank you" I say and I mean every word, I came here without a plan, taking a risk, to ask you for whatever stupid reason came to my mind. And here you are, giving me a gift, a piece of you.

"It's nothing, it's a gift from a small business to another" You reply, you say it's nothing but for me it's everything. Trust me I will give you so many orgasms in return. I stand there looking like a fool until I realize I been here for too long.

I should leave. I’ve been here too long, staring at you like a lovesick idiot. “I should probably go,” I say, stepping back. “I need to get back to the store.”

"Wait" you call and just for a moment I believe in everything people of faith believe, I turn around hoping this might be it, you kissing me, pushing me to the back of your store and giving up to your most primal impulses. My thoughts ironically are interrupted by your voice.

“Did you need something?” you ask, and my brain short-circuits. Shit. Shit. THINK.

“The cactus,” I blurt, and immediately regret every life decision that led me here.

“The cactus?” You chuckle incredulously, and to the sound of it I remember why we make sense, because you love your romcom delusions, and I love you, so this slip it's gonna become in the perfect scene. Oscar worthy.

I recover. “Actually...” Deep breath. Don’t fuck this up, Goldberg. “I came to ask you out. Not a date! I mean, unless you want it to be a date. Just... to hang out.” I'm breaking a pattern with you Cassie, I'm not overthinking it, I'm not killing your best friends, I'm not watching you from afar, well, no, at least not everyday.

"Really?" For a moment I thought I misunderstood everything, did I jump too fast? But then no, your eyes light up like stars and your cheeks flush in a pink color and I can almost swear in your mind there's a One Direction song that would play in the background if this was a romcom. "I would love to" You speak again, your tone now different, shy, almost embarrassed as if you were not asked this all the time, I know you do, but I let it pass. This is it, this is the moment I been waiting for.

"Great!" I can't help but smile and chuckle in happiness "Tonight works for you after work?" Please say yes

"Perfect!" You reply matching my tone and I don't know exactly if you're mocking me or you're just as excited as I am

"I'll see you later then Cassie"

I walk out of the flower shop with the cactus in hand, and I can’t help but laugh. Not out loud, no. Of course not. That would be psychotic. Just a small, private chuckle to myself. You don’t get it, do you, Cassie? You think this is cute. Innocent. Boy meets girl, girl gives boy a cactus, and they hang out. The cactus. That’s cute. Really. Thoughtful. A clever little peace offering from your world to mine. But let’s not kid ourselves you don’t give cacti to just anyone. It’s symbolic. Resilient, like you. But also, sharp. Dangerous if handled wrong. I get it, Cassie. I really do. You think you’re complex. Layers and contradictions, a puzzle for someone worthy to solve. Lucky for you, I love puzzles. I’m fucking amazing at puzzles.

[lolitakirstein]

Hey Neighbor Pt 9

Part 8

WC: ~1.5k

AN: I'm so worried about writing longer chapters in case they are too boring. but I hate splitting things up when I'm on a roll. ha

You watched as the man you had run into exited Toji’s house 30 minutes later. Unable to hear what the two were discussing you relied on their body language to give you some hint as to who he was. The men seemed formal towards each other yet relaxed; Toji with his hands in his pocket or across his chest, the other guy casually lighting a cigarette while showing his back to toji. There must be some level of trust between them, then. Before the man leaves, you notice him gesture towards your house. You draw back further from the window, afraid of being seen.

Once the car is out of sight and Toji returns to his house, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Should you ask Toji who he was or was that being too nosy? Not like i’ll get a straight answer, he refuses to tell me anything, you think, settling on being nonchalant about it.

Fortunately, you had work to keep you focused. And most fortunately, your hangover was minimal. Nothing more than a slight throb thanks to the pain meds Toji had offered you. You become robotic as you scan, sort, and shelve books and answer the same boring questions from customers. 

Before you can notice, it’s your lunch break. You sit in the small cafe that the bookstore offers, downing a hot chai latte and checking your phone. One message from the work group chat and one from Toji that was sent a few hours ago

Toji: You ok?

You fight back the urge to send, “I can’t tell you right now, it’s not the right time,” instead, pocketing your phone and playing hard to get. You clock back into work, ready to start the second half of your shift. 

 Wait, am I wanting him to chase me or something? This guy who knows things but won't tell me? Why am I trying to act like this is a dude i’ve swiped on Tindr? This guy has secrets, deep ones. Ones I probably don’t wanna know—

“Excuse me,” a soft voice snaps you out of your internal monologue. You spin around and are met with a man. His dark auburn hair is close-cropped at the sides while the top fashionably brushes just above his deep brown eyes. A soft shadow of stubble peppers his strong jaw. 

“Oh, hello. Can I help you?” you quickly revert to the robotic motions of a customer service provider.

“Yeah, I was looking for your classical section.”

“Are you looking for anything in particular,” you ask after leading him to the designated section of the store. 

“What would you recommend?” 

A question every worker hates. “Well, can never go wrong with Doestrevsky.” 

“Ah, yes, I read Crime and Punishment in school. Incredible prose,” he responds. 

Your heart lifts at finally being able to discuss books with someone. “Indeed, if you like that, you might like The Idiot. Same themes of human nature and society.” You grab a copy off the shelf and hand it to me. 

“Well I’d be an idiot if I didn’t take the advice of such a beautiful, well-read woman,” he says coyly as you walk to the counter.  You internally groan but also can’t help but blush at the compliment, though the joke was indeed awful.

“Let me know how you like it?” you say after ringing him up and bagging his purchase. 

“How about we discuss it over dinner sometime,” he cocks an auburn brown.

“Oh,” you stammer, thrown off by the sudden offer. It’d been so long since you’d been on a date you forgot what it was like to be asked out. “Sure!”

“Great I’ll keep you posted on my progress,” the man who you now know as Connor pockets his phone after you exchange numbers. “I look forward to discussing it with you and hearing your beautiful thoughts.”

Ok, he was laying it on a little thick but you don't mind. The only interaction you had had with a man for the past few months had been with Toji. And those interactions were hardly civil, much less flirty. Though Toji tended to tease, it was mostly to throw you off the topic of his secrets. 

The rest of your shift goes by quickly and you arrive home before the sun goes down. As you get out of your car, you notice Toji sitting on his porch steps. You try to ignore him but ignoring him is like trying to ignore a bear about to devour you. You give a wave, walking fast to your house. 

“You ok?” Toji asks, still sitting on the steps. Damn, he either can’t take a hint or is just stubborn. 

“Yeah, thanks,” you respond fumbling your keys out of your pocket. You drop them. Cursing yourself for being so easily intimidated by him you stoop to pick them up. Toji’s feet appear in your line of vision. You look up at the giant man standing over you. You want to feel afraid, but you can’t deny the absolute feral part of your brain at the sight of him standing over you. 

“Why didn’t you text me back?” the possessive tone didn’t help dampen the submissive part of your psyche. Damn, why do I have to be such a whore for crazy men?

“I was working,” you squeak out, picking your keys up and walking to your front steps. 

“I wanna talk,” Toji says behind you as you march up the steps and unlock your door. 

“It’s fine Toji. Nothing to talk about,” you turn around, Toji is standing at the bottom of your porch steps. 

“There is,” Toji huffs a breath. “A lot, actually.”

You were not in the mood for this. Your day ended on a good note and you intend for it to stay that way. “Look, whatever it is. I don’t care.”

“Yes you do,” Toji takes one step up. 

You shake your head, even though you were screaming yes in your head. You will not let him win. “Nah, I’m good. I really couldn't care less what your little secrets are. I don’t even know you.”

“It’s not that, it’s just—”

The notification on your phone interrupts the moment. You reach into your pocket for it and notice a text from Connor. 

Connor: I hope you had a good rest of your day. I must say, you made mine :) 

Oh, the cringe was off the charts with this guy. But you can’t keep the stupid smile from appearing on your face. Followed by a giggle. Shit I’m giggling over a guy. I need laid 

“Who’s that?” Toji asks sharply.

“No one,” you shake your head.

“No one huh,” Toji takes another step up, finally standing in front of you. “‘No one’ got you smiling like a goof?”

“You have your secrets, I have mine,” you shrug.  

“You don't blush like that for just no one,” Toji teases, he steps so close you can feel the heat off of him. “Now who could possibly be making sweet little y/n blush so much besides me?”

You crane your neck up to look at him, refusing to show he’s affecting you. “I can’t tell you. It’s not the right time.”

Finally, you manage to knock him off his game by throwing his words back at him. He steps back, putting some distance between you. A scowl wrinkles his brow and his jaw ticks as he clenches his teeth. You smirk, pleased with yourself. “Good night toji.”

Toji

Toji stares at the door you slammed in his face, stricken dumb by the sass you dished out. He had expected this to be a moment of confession, finally getting it all out in the open. Now standing at your closed door, Toji has no choice but to retreat back home.

After dinner and tucking Megumi into bed, Toji collapses onto his king-size bed. He turns his head to the window, towards your house. The lamp on your bedside table creates a soft glow from your window. He watches as you enter the bedroom. Your eyes on your phone, smiling. 

Toji clenches his jaw. Here he was ready to start having an honest conversation with you, and you were too busy with this mysterious ‘no one.’ He hated being this way, but he couldn’t deny that he felt a sense of protectiveness over you. 

He watches you throw your phone on the bed, the giddy smile still on your lips—perfect lips, soft delicate lips he’s thought about kissing on multiple occasions. With your back to the window, you remove your shirt and toss it to the chair before you begin sliding your pants down. As much as Toji would love nothing more than to watch, he has enough decency to look away, he’s not THAT much of a pervert. 

He reaches into his back pocket, depositing the contents beside him. 

First is his cellphone which he text Shiu–I need to borrow a few of your tech geeks.

The second, is a sealed envelope. No address, no street names or numbers. Just 3 words written in delicate script:

il mio agnellino

[starry-hughes]

meeting the family (nico hischier)

day 14 of star’s ficmas

logan barzal x nico hischier (au)

Logan Barzal was scared. The last boy who met her parents was the same boy who completely shattered her heart. When she swore off hockey players, her parents were on her side, not ever wanting to find their daughter wailing on the bathroom floor.

Nico wasn’t going to see his family for the short break. His Christmas was typically spent with the other single members of the Devils but this year he was spending it with Logan. The two had met in Logan’s coffee shop and bookstore she owned, she didn’t know he was a hockey player until later. She hated him for .5 seconds before he promised he wouldn’t break her heart.

Logan rushed around the apartment with her hair perfectly straightened with a red bow pinned in the back. A cute Christmas outfit. “Can you like calm down?” Mat groaned. Their parents were in the kitchen and their sister was watching Logan with amusement. “Nico will be here soon and I want everything perfect.”

Mike and Nadia Barzal hadn’t seen Logan like this since before her prom. Mat had been living with Logan for years and since she started seeing Nico, he noticed a happier sister. Nico Hischier of the New Jersey Devils dating the sister of Mat Barzal of the New York Islanders, who would have thought?

Nico fixed his red sweater, Logan liked when he wore red. Knocking on the door with a bag of presents in his hand, he hadn’t know what to get her parents but Logan helped pick something out. He heard his girlfriend scrambling on the other side of the door, shouting at Mat to put down the cookies. “You’re here!” Logan breathed as she opened the door. “Hi,” he kissed her head as she hugged him. “Merry Christmas,” she greeted him before dragging him into the apartment. “Come meet my parents and sister!”

“What am I? Chopped liver?” Mat questioned as he gave Nico a bro hug. “You already know Nico.” When the two weren’t on the ice, they were pretty good friends.

“Mom, Dad, this is Nico. Nico, there are my parents, Mike and Nadia. And Liana, my sister.”

“It’s so nice to meet you guys, Logan always talks about her family, thank you for letting me join you guys today,” he smiled. “Sweetheart,” her dad started, “why don’t you and your mom and sister go get Nico’s gifts put under the tree.”

Logan narrowed her eyes at her father and Mat, knowing the big brother and dad talk Nico was about to receive. “Be nice,” Logan elbowed her brother as she walked by. “Nico, I assume you know about the ex,” her dad started. “Yes sir, and I know how much Logan means to me,” Nico looked at Logan who was placing gifts under the tree, smiling at her mom, “and I know how much I love her.”

Logan and Nico sat next to one another at dinner, passing around the dishes and Nico kept his hand on her knee. “How often can you make it to Long Island?” Nadia asked. “As often as I can. Maybe twice or three times a week? Depending on morning skates or travel, I bring the guys to her store sometimes,” Nico explained. “I stayed with Nico when he was injured,” Logan smiled.

Logan and Liana cleaned up the table, Mat lingered but got a look from his parents and went to help with dishes. Before Nico went to help, Nadia started talking. “We were nervous, when Logan told us she was dating a hockey player,” Nadia started, “her last relationship, we thought it was going to destroy her, but you seem good for her.”

Nico smiled pridefully, “I’m glad, I really care about her.”

After dinner, everyone sat on the couch, Logan laid into Nico as Mat opened his present from Logan. Nico had received some stuff from the Barzal Family, just basic sweaters and small gifts. Mat thought he was funny, getting Nico a framed picture of a Baby Logan.

“They didn’t bother you too much while talking to you, right?” she mumbled. “Worried about me?” Nico hummed. Her hand glided over his stomach as her arm wrapped around him, “Always am.” Nico chuckled softly as Liana was thrown another present. “They are just worried about you, I told them I won’t ever hurt you.”

“Hey, Lo, stop cuddling with your boyfriend and open this present. It’s from Nico and me,” Mat tossed a small box over. “Nico and you?” her eyebrows furrowed together. Nico sat up a little bit as Logan sat up. “Thought you could use a small location for your place in Jersey,” Nico smiled, as she unveiled a key. “You guys got me a new store?!”

“Down the street from my apartment,” Nico sang. “I still get her here at least four times a week! She’s my sister!” Mat exclaimed.

[starrypen]

⋇⊶⊰ BY(E) THE BOOK ⊱⊷⋇

pairing: boyf!jeonghyeon x fem!reader

genre: smut

summary: jeonghyeon is curious about the book you’ve been breathing heavily over for the past 10 minutes. once he gets his hands on it, he understands why, and must find a way to prove to you that he’s just as good as fiction. it’s a shame your fun gets cut short.

warnings: quotes are taken from the spanish love deception, pet names, fingering, reader “tastes” herself, power play, cut short.

a/n: the lack of jeonghyeon smut is driving me insane, i had to write one for myself

attempting to pry the book out of your hands, jeonghyeon grabbed it by the spine, a devilish smile on his face.

“why won’t you let me see?” he complained, almost pouting, “if it’s not that bad, why won’t you let me read it?” he repeated.

“because,” you removed your thumbs one at a time from the pages they were trapped between, “it’s private!”

“i could go and pick this one up from the bookstore in town,” he laughed, refusing to let go.

“don’t you have a meeting soon?” you asked, trying to change the subject.

“in fifteen minutes,” it didn’t work, his grip becoming stronger.

you sighed, maybe even grunted, in frustration. the book slipped through your sweaty hand and was suddenly at the sole discretion of your boyfriend. his slender fingers located the magnetic bookmark at the top of the book and quickly opened it to the page. you wanted to escape but you knew you’d have to face the consequences at some point.

““i should lay you there and fuck you deep and slow”” he quoted, a slight bit of judgement to his reading. “i didn’t realise books could be so… horny,” he looked at you for confirmation before reading on. ““i felt his hard length against my ass” seriously?” he asked, looking at you once again, this time closing the book and tossing it to the end of the bed. he took in your response, you shifted a little and averted your eyes, he expected no different. “do you enjoy that?” he asked, a little too casually for you to even consider lying to him.

“it’s not the best literature in the world, but yes,” you rolled your eyes, not that he could see. “please don’t make this weirder than it already is by asking me anything else” you sighed a second time, turning over to face him, hoping your pleading eyes would convince him.

“there’s a lot i want to know… but…” you raised a brow as he spoke, “but let me ask just one more question.”

you nodded apprehensively. you knew by his tone that is was nothing too embarrassing.

“do you ever read it wishing it was you?” he asks.

you furrow your brows and jolt your head back, as if he’d just sneezed in your face.

“i mean, even if they are just two fictional characters, it’s still kinda hot, no?” he pressed, “and i know it was turning you on.”

suddenly, you felt tiny under his gaze. you wanted to touch yourself, even just thinking about the book, and maybe how jeonghyeon could treat you just like the guy in the book does.

“am i right, angel?” he asked, his arm coming over you and pinning you under it.

you hummed sheepishly.

“show me,” his lips met yours, brushing against your own as he spoke again, “show me how turned on it made you.” his hand now caressed your side, still holding you to the bed.

you nodded, only wanting to please him, “how?”

he took his hand from your side and grabbed yours, guiding it to your shorts. you took them off without giving it any second thought, your panties coming off too.

“can i touch you?” he asked, as if he hadn’t made you feel good thousands of times before.

“please,” you begged.

the coldness of his hand fingers hit your core, or maybe it was overwhelming pleasure from the feeling of his slender digits against your pussy.

“fuck, you’re so wet,” he seemed to rush to kiss you again, leaning in quickly only to bring his fingers to your lips instead. he traced over them before you let him put them in your mouth, tasting your own wetness. and as soon as he romoved them, he’d replaced them with his tongue, wanting to taste you just as much as you had. meanwhile, his fingers worked your pussy, teasing your clit and occasionally slipping one finger inside of you as he kissed you.

by the feeling of his hardening cock against your thigh, you knew jeonghyeon was getting far too into this for someone who had to be out of the house in a few minutes. with your hands at his shoulders, you pushed him away from you.

“haven’t you got a meeting to be at?” you giggled, the boy already stripping himself of the t-shirt he’d only just put on. you sat up, running your fingernail down his chiselled torso. “hmm?” you probed.

he threw his hand back and groaned, supporting himself with his hands. “you’re right, but i know i won’t be able to stop thinking about you the whole time.”

you heard the boy rambling, but you couldn’t help yourself. your lips pressed against the bare skin on his chest. he looked down at you, scoffing at your selfishness but not once complaining. you created a pattern with your kisses, leading you down, over his abs.

“i really need to go,” he moaned, despite not making an effort to move from under your lips.

they teased at jeonghyeon’s navel, his head falling back in both pleasure and anticipation.

“fuck,” you heard him moan under his breath.

you smiled against his torso before continuing the trail of kissing, down, almost reaching his waistband, when you felt his hand gently caress your hair. you look up towards him, his eyes meeting yours unexpectedly. it was like a heavy blow of lust, combined with the perfect amount of love and adoration.

“angel,” you sat up again upon hearing the pet name, “you know i love you, but can we finish this later?” he asked, defeated by the timing.

“fine,” you rolled your eyes with an understanding smile as you watched your boyfriend put his shirt on again.

he stretched his legs over the bed before sorting himself out in front of the long length mirror, throwing his bag over his head. “oh,” he turned, “and i’ll be taking this with me,” he picked up the book he’d dismissed a few moments ago and slipped it into his bag, “can’t have you getting turned on by a man that isn’t me!”

[strawberrystepmom]

Kendy, I want to know all about you and Dante!!! How did y’all meet? Did you know he was going to be someone special to you or were not so sure about him? When did you finally get together

Bonus Question : what’s your favorite activity to do together

omg...okay so i think this is the first time i've ever really gone over our full canon au "lore" so to speak.....im nervy hold me....and be nice everyone

so we are set up on a blind date none other than lady! she and i are friends and know each other well because in this situation i am a magic archivist and basically run a secret business getting information about demons and the mystical shit in the world. i procure information, i get paid, i do research, i get paid.

really, what i'm researching is myself as weird as that sounds bc i woke up one day in my early 20s with powers. just randomly obtain the ability to shoot lightning from my fingers and also imbue other things with amounts of my power/energy. this is very shocking. i was already working as an archivist, decided to get into the esoteric aspect of it all, found myself working underground. lady comes by to ask for info all the time and i end up bitching to her one day about being lonely and frustrated, always concerned about accidentally hurting my boyfriends because that happened to the last one.

so im just sitting there flipping through books, complaining to lady.

"i think i need a man that is pretty indestructible"

she lets out the worlds longest sigh. "and i think i know just the guy"

so a few days later she's like okay meet him here at least keep him busy for the night so he leaves everyone alone and that's where we meet and im ngl to you he's hooked from the minute we start talking. he likes my cleverness. i like that he's very casual and easy to talk to, there's no judgment in anything he says. i like him very much and decide immediately there will be no second date because i like him so much.

when i just kind of try to hide/disengage he starts showing up to the bookstore where i do my work looking for "information" aka to scope out my situation. after he does that a few times im like "dante tell me what you want or leave me alone" and he's like "give me a chance you might like me more than you expect" bc he's already very much picked up that I Want Him for i am not subtle and am holding back. and ofc i love a man who can handle me with the same energy i handle him with so atp it's futile.

we're basically officially together off and on from that point forward, we're both 25ish there. we have our break up periods but we always end up back together no matter what lol even when we're "broken up" we're literally ten feet up each other's asses. it's beautiful.

our favorite thing to do together is dance! we're a couple of divas on the dance floor and we can both be as silly and free as we want when we're groovin'

[hayleylatour]

Finding peace 🕊️

Content warnings- talks of pregnancy (honestly it’s the whole story line) and opinions. Supportive Noah, talks of food,vomit and medical care

Summary- Mia is a 24 year old new bookstore owner who’s best friend is dating the drummer of up and coming metal band Bad Omens Nick Foilo. Jess is known for trying to set Mia up on blind dates. What happens when Mia meets Noah Sebastian

Parings- Babydaddy! Noah Sebastian X OC (Mia)

Chapter three- Mia’s POV

~ 6 weeks later~

“Fuck!” I sobbed looking at the test laying on my bathroom counter. A missed period and now 2 pink lines sealed my fate.

Noah and I have been hanging out, nothing serious just sex. Pulling out my phone I text Noah

MIA- Hey, can you come over in like an hour?

NOAH- I’ll be there

Putting the phone down I continue to stare at the test, what am I going to tell him? I called my doctor to make an appointment to confirm the results. Waiting for Noah to arrive I put the test on the kitchen counter. Pacing my appointment for so long I’m positive there’s a hole in the floor.

I stop when there’s a knock at the door. Opening it Noah walks in, grabbing at my waist he pulls me closer to him smashing his lips to mine. I push hand against his chest lightly pushing him back.

“Whats wrong?” He worryingly asked grabbing my hand that lays on his chest bringing it to his lips and leaving a soft kiss against my knuckles.

“I need to talk to you about something, can we sit?” My voice wobbles as I completely detach myself from him. Walking to the couch Noah sits down leaning back against the cushions.

“Before I say this you have to promise you’re not going to hate me, okay cause I can’t live with myself if I lost your friendship, Noah” he nods eyeing me as a tear escapes.

“Did you find a boyfriend or something? Cause if that’s what it is we are completely fine angel, I could never hate you.” Noah’s calm voice soothing me before I break again

“I-im pregnant” i whisper dropping my head to my hands. “I’m pregnant and it’s yours and i don’t want you to hate me because of it.”

“Wait, what? Are you sure” he questions pulling my hands away from my face rubbing small circles on my palm before setting them in my lap.

“Yes I’m sure the test came back positive and the second line came up extremely fast and dark”

“Are you sure it’s mine?” He ponders his hands fidgeting in his lap. A ping of anger over taking my body.

“Hey, don’t be a jackass you’re the only person I’ve slept with in 6 months, remember dry spell” raising my voice pointing at myself

“Okay so what are you wanting to do, should we get married? Should we get life insurance?” I can see in his eyes he’s starting to freak out.

“Noah calm down, I have a doctors appointment tomorrow to confirm everything, and then they’ll do an ultrasound. Do you want to come with me, maybe we can get lunch after and talk about it” he nods

“Let’s just watch tv for a bit and I’ll order tacos” he says standing and walking back to my bedroom

“Hey Noah, can we wait to tell everyone till we know what we want? Like I don’t want to tell the guys that I’m pregnant if I’m not going to keep it” I whisper, he nods and smiles at me

“Yeah, angel we can keep it to ourselves for a bit, whatever you decide to do I’m here, you want to keep it, I will be at every appointment and hold your hand for everything, if you don’t then I’ll drive you to the appointment.” He says walking to me and pulling me into a tight embrace, “we’ll figure it out, together okay? I’m here I’m not going anywhere.” He assures once again soothing me.

Noah and I watched reruns of ‘Friends’ all day, after our food had arrived we settled nicely on the couch. My head on his shoulder and legs sung over his thighs. His fingers danced and traced lines in my skin, goosebumps in their wake. As the sun started setting my eyes heavy with sleep, Noah’s phone rings.

“Hello?” He answers putting the phone on speaker

“Hey man where are you? You’ve been gone all day?” Jolly asks sounding worried

“I’m good I’m hanging out with Mia, we’ve been watching ‘Friends’ for the past few hours. Why what’s up?” Noah says his eye casting down to me

“Oh, we were going to hop on the game if you want, we can wait for you to get home.”Noah sits up a bit

“Nah man I’m good, just trying to relax and hang out with Mia today.” Noah then goes on to explain that we’d probably take a nap before getting dinner. They say their goodbyes before Noah stands hold his hand out to me.

“Come on let’s go lay down.” He says helping me up and leading me towards the bedroom. Sleep took us over and Noah held me his hand rest on my lower stomach.

After we dinner i started feeling nauseous and very sick. Noah decided to stay the night with me incase i needed anything. I stayed in the bathroom most of the night Noah holding my hair back as I threw up everything in my stomach. The next morning at the doctors office, they confirmed the pregnancy and did an ultrasound. The doctor said I was roughly 8 weeks. She pulled out a small wand pressed it to my belly and a fast heartbeat filled the room. My eyes filled with tears and Noah squeezed my hand.

“I want to keep her” i cried walking out of the office tears not streaming down my face

“Her?” Noah looked at me puzzled, opening the car door and helping me into the car.

“It’s a girl. I can feel it” i stated matter of fact, settling my hand where the wand was pressed as Noah wiped the tears from my cheeks.

“I hope she looks like you then.” He smiled softly closing the car door and jogging to the driver side. Sliding the grainy picture of our baby no bigger than a raspberry out of my wallet my heart explodes with joy. I’ll have to cut one off to give to Noah.

“I was wondering, about where this takes our relationship? What I mean is do you want to be together or just stay what we are and do this whole parenting thing as friends?” As Noah puts the car into park he turns in his seat to wait for my reaction.

“I’m not sure right now, I think that as long as we stay friends that it will be fine. I don’t know how everyone else is going to feel about this but I’m happy, I just hope you are too.” I shrugged hoping that would be an answer he was okay with.

“I’m happy angel. I’m so happy we’re having a baby. It surprised me at first, yes but it’s okay, you’ve become one of my best friends and i wouldn’t want a redo. This baby is probably the best thing to happen to me in a long time. I’m so happy don’t ever doubt that, okay?” It’s now Noah’s eyes that fill with tears as I reach across the center console and pull him into a hug, I feel a kiss on the side of my head and his hand rubbing up and down my back. Itll be okay, we will figure it out and it will all be okay.