#it's 1:30 in the morning i should get a fucking life

[ebogosian]

ASSAD ZAMAN as ARMAND in Interview with the Vampire, ft. his subconjunctival hemorrhage

[mieczyhale]

one of the guys that runs a reaction channel i've been watching for ages just announced that they're ending the channel next year bc he got a job offer and he's getting married and he's thinking about his family and his future and like...

my son in christ you are 21

i literally want to fucking die

[hivemuthur]

To Be Known - Ch.1.

viktorxfem!reader explicit! Modern AU, set in London, current era but not very specific. Uncharted waters for me, because I have no idea how many chapters it will come out as.

Reader is: British, Young Vic (get it?) theatre company director, working class, in her 30s, a control freak, a semi-conscious sub. Viktor is: Czech (as always), working in biotech with Jayce, working class, in his 30s, a control freak, a conscious dom.

MASTERLIST next chapter ->

word count: 4,6K

warnings, or rather this work contains: d/s dynamics between main characters (but who the fuck knows what Mel and Jayce are doing), love (attraction?) at first sight, no strings attached to lovers/strangers to lovers (so like reverse emotional slow burn?), lots of porn, angst, happy resolution. I will be adding kink warnings as they appear in the future chapters.

author’s note: Ok, so, um, hi! A Deer and a Man is ending, so something else has to begin. It’s like… a very freeform thing I’m doing here. Sort of about nothing, just relationships with d/s dynamics, because I want to play around with some kinks and stuff. I’m trying to make it make sense here, but not everything might, since it’s just my subjective take on things. It will have some d/s etiquette but not always, because I’m clumsy and my characters get infected with my clumsiness :v Nothing’s new really (hehe, get it?), some plot, some porn, some feelings. It’s basically me going to IKEA asking you if you wanna come and grab some vegan meatballs and the meatballs are smut in this :v So yeh, hi, welcome to another blurb of a mutlichap work.

Special thanks to my friends @rennethen and @strongfartzemergency for pre-reading this and enabling my brainrot. Artist is @petitesieste, just ahh ♡

Cross-posted on AO3

—

Your eyes glaze over the computer screen, trying to memorize a list of poor souls to probe the next day. An ouroboros of theatre life has reached another mark, one where you must make a million decisions in a short span of time: Which plays will grace the stage, who’s performing in them, who’s directing, and who’s dressing all those people in their fancy costumes? And, most importantly, who’s paying for all of it?

So far, a successful year has set your bar even higher, with the next season looming in the golden light of August evenings. You don’t even have time to warm your bones in it—you have to think ahead, transport your brain to the future, to a cold January, when the real test begins for you. In truth, you don’t have time to do anything beneficial for your bones, and you’ve just learned to accept that your joints crack like dry wood every time you move.

A head peaks through the crack in your door, and you don’t have to look up to know who it is.

“Charlie,” you greet him, your nose still scrunched up by the screen. “I know, I know. I’m going, I just need a second.” You begin to rise from your chair but remain hunched over, extending your arm blindly toward the computer. “Did you bring my shoes?”

“Yes, and I’m not kicking you out,” says Charlie, passing you a pair of ballet flats. “But if you want a driver, well… he’s getting impatient.”

“That’s okay, I can commute,” you smile at him, taking the shoes and glancing at your watch. “It’s only Camden… oh, shit, it’s very late. You should, in fact, kick me out.” After a few hurried jumps while putting the shoes on, you're back to frantically picking up unrelated objects and shoving them into your purse: tissues, lipstick, random notes to review in the morning, and Mel’s gift—a seasonal Young Vic pass for her and her plus one.

“Where are you guys meeting?” he asks, passing you the rest of the things you will obviously want or need. It’s a seamless collaboration with Charlie. Since the very beginning, you two have been sharing a brain, and this is partly why nothing has collapsed yet. On the contrary—both you, as a theatre company director, and Charlie, as an assistant director, have been doing an amazing job, mending together a forthcoming approach and love for theatre. And this is all your head is at, despite the one evening of reprieve where you can share beers with friends in a pub that Mel has chosen completely out of character for herself. Which is why, instead of answering, you ask, “Do you really think we can do Hamlet?”

“Why wouldn’t we be able to do Hamlet?” Charlie parrots, passing you a coat with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t know, is it not a bit… on the nose? It’s my second year, and my brain’s steamed up so much that I’m doing Hamlet?”

Charlie chuckles softly, as he steps behind you to dress you up. “You are going to do a bitchin’ Hamlet. And now can you please go and have some fun for once?”

“This is fun, Charlie. Hamlet is fun,” you say, holding his arms and giving him a playful shake. “Fun!”

“Calm down, captain,” he grins, rolling his eyes. “Where are you guys going?”

“Ugh… World’s End?”

“World’s End?!” Charlie covers his mouth in feigned horror, his eyes wide. “This is so unlike Miss Medarda!” he whispers, shooting you an incredulous look.

“I know, Mel wanted casual,” you shrug, rolling your eyes. Then, as you move past him, you swat him lightly on the shoulder, seeking another round of uninhibited cackles. “Don’t be mean, Charlie!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Charlie laughs, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Ah, World’s fucking End, who would’ve thought. Let me fetch you a driver, my lady.”

You shake your head and scan your office one last time, making sure you haven’t left anything important behind. Figuratively, of course, since almost everything dear to your heart is actually being left behind. And even though it’s only for a couple of hours, not being in control is frightening.

On the other side of the coin are your friends, with Mel right up front. She’s been there since the very first second of your meeting—right after you yelled at a light technician, making him flinch and nearly fall off the ladder. You had immediately corrected yourself with, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have shouted. But this lightwork is still shit. Please fix it. I ask you kindly.”

That was when Mel grinned, wrapped an arm around your shoulder, and whispered into your ear, “Okay. I want to be your friend.”

Since then, Mel has been one of the main patrons of your theatre company, and you—being a firm unbeliever in your own abilities—are convinced it’s largely her money and pep talks that have granted you the creative freedom that led to you becoming an artistic director. Your worlds collided fast and hard, and, being another person married to her work, she quickly became one of the closest people in your life.

Until Jayce.

Mel, being someone who treats every relationship as an investment, doesn’t limit her influence to the arts. So when her family decided to fund research grants for scientists from the Francis Crick Institute, you knew something was coming as soon as she justified the decision with, “And they are both very handsome.”

You know the urge very well—the ever-nagging need to have everything under control, to oversee every grain of sand that rolls through the waist of the hourglass, every second planned, every schedule so tight there is barely time to breathe. It’s one of the things that bonded the both of you.

So when Jayce came along—with his motivation stemming not from a sickening need for self-accomplishment or a desperate urge to prove something to the world, but from the purity of his own heart and a healthy curiosity—Mel began to crack. And then the disease spread to you.

Now, you actually rest. You spend your free Sundays socializing. You talk about things other than work. You’ve even been on a few unsuccessful dates. And it’s all Jayce’s fault.

You loved him for it immediately—the small crumbs of the outside world granted to you and Mel through his unabashed joy and excitement. Jayce made things fun, and turning your phone off—briefly relinquishing control—became a little less terrifying.

From there, your thoughts drift in different directions until your absent-minded stare at the moving lights outside the car window is interrupted. The driver, in a grumpy tone, informs you that you’ve arrived at your destination. You crack the joints in your hands before thanking him and bidding him goodnight.

The World’s End is all red from the outside, its glow bleeding onto the wet pavement. Through the glass, you spot the back of Mel’s heavily accessorized hairstyle, a head of intricate twists and gleaming accents. You glance at your reflection, and—well. You’ve seen better days.

Your mini skirt has twisted around, placing the slit exactly where you don’t want it, so you yank it back into place, cursing Charlie for not telling you. In the process, you notice a small eyelet in your tights, the hole widening with each step you take. No nail polish to stop it from spreading. You curse yourself for that one. Your shirt is crumpled at the stomach—a reminder of hours spent hunched over your desk. Your necklace has caught a bunch of stray hairs, which you pick out frantically as you stride toward the door. And the rest of your hair? An artistic mess, sculpted by an impatient hand that’s raked through it a hundred times too many today.

Once inside, Mel’s slender hand and a row of her impossibly white teeth beckon you forward as she stands up to give you a hug.

And the inside of The World's End is exactly what you would expect from a Camden pub—big, loud, and brimming with mismatched charm. The walls are cluttered with a collection of art that looks like it was bought in a rush at a local flea market. There's a hum of conversation mixing with the thrum of the music playing in the background, and the space itself is large, almost cavernous. The low ceiling and uneven, wooden floorboards give it an unpolished look that feels welcoming to some, but it's not exactly the kind of place you'd expect to see Mel at.

Mel, in contrast, belongs in a sleek, minimalistic bar, somewhere where the drinks are as carefully curated as the furniture, where everything is perfectly composed. Here, she’s lost in the midst of it all, a little too refined for the space, as if her sharp lines don’t quite align with the pub’s rough edges. The things we do for friends.

“Darling, I’m glad you made it,” she chirps, walking toward you and spreading her arms wide.

“Now I can say I’d go to the end of the world for you,” you murmur into her shoulder, squeezing her tight. Then, pulling back, you present a small envelope. “Happy birthday, love. Here—best possible seats.”

Mel’s brows lift as she takes the tickets, flipping them between her fingers. “You shouldn’t have,” she says, though the gleam in her eye betrays her excitement. “But thank you. You wouldn’t believe who Jayce has managed to drag along,” she murmurs into your ear.

“Oh, it can’t be,” you whisper back, scanning the table over her shoulder.

A few of her closest friends sit huddled together, deep in conversation and laughter. Then, Jayce’s broad frame, unmistakable even in the dim light. And next to him—

A pair of loose shoulders, wrapped in a red shirt stretched between two sharp blades. The nape of his neck, covered in a mess of brown curls. He leans on one hand, nodding along to whatever Jayce is saying, his profile cutting sharp against the glow of the street lights.

Viktor. The last man standing, the one seemingly immune to Jayce’s influence when it comes to making people step out of their comfort zones. And yet, here he is. Of all occasions, it’s Mel’s birthday that has somehow coaxed Viktor out of his self-imposed solitude. A horse you wouldn’t have bet on.

You are led to the table, where all the seats seem to be taken—until Viktor removes his cane from the empty stool beside him and gestures for you to sit between him and Jayce. As you lower yourself onto the stool, you take his hand briefly and say, “The smartest man in the room, finally in the room.”

“You must be talking about Jayce,” he counters, a glint of amusement in his eye. He holds your palm for just a moment longer than necessary before letting go. “I’ve heard much about you.”

“Only good things, I hope,” you reply with a smile—until Mel’s head suddenly pokes between the two of you.

“What’s your poison, honey?” she asks. Only now do you notice her flushed cheeks and the way she’s completely disregarded the concept of personal space, her arm stretching beyond your shoulders to tug playfully at Jayce’s hair.

“A pint of bitter?” you say, startled.

She frowns slightly, but you quickly follow with, “Cheers,” hoping to steer her attention elsewhere. Her eyes squint at you, but she relents, giving Jayce’s back a clingy hug before strolling off to the bar. Only now Viktor’s hand releases yours.

He studies you for a moment before turning to his glass, giving you the chance to take a closer look—

The first two buttons of his shirt are undone, revealing the hollow between his collarbones, skin up to his neck is covered in a satin sheen of sweat. Tendons shift beneath it, blue veins threading along his throat. His hair is faintly damp around the ears, curling and plastering itself to his temples. From the side, his jaw forms nearly a perfect square.

You don’t dare to look higher.

Lower down, though, his sleeves are rolled up carelessly, exposing freckle-specked arms. You spot it by dropping your gaze naturally.

Mel was right. They are both very handsome.

As the birthday gal disappears toward the bar, you are left wedged between the two scientists, the noise of conversation assaulting your ears. Across the table, Amara leans in, her many rings clinking as she refills someone’s glass from a sweating bottle of wine. Beside her, Salo—always overdressed for the occasion, his blonde curls neatly combed back—gestures broadly mid-story, his voice animated. A few seats down, Mion, the youngest among them and always balancing the line between sharp and naive, listens intently while occasionally stealing olives from Mel’s abandoned plate.

"So," Jayce starts, shifting his weight so he can face you properly. “What’s keeping you so busy these days?”

You exhale, stretching your arms along the back of your seat, making your spine pop. “Wrapping up meetings with playwrights, directors, and actors—making sure everything aligns. Managing funding and sponsorships, finalising script choices.”

Salo whistles. “Sounds like a headache.”

“It’s a miracle she’s here at all,” Jayce adds, nursing his beer. “I half-expected her to send a regretful telegram from the depths of her desk.”

That earns a laugh from Amara, who nudges your foot under the table. “And what are the plays, then? What’s in?”

You rest your chin in your palm and do a mock countdown with the fingers of the other. “Further than the Furthest Thing, The Scottsboro Boys, A Streetcar Named Desire—possibly Hamlet.”

Mel, just returning with your beer, lets out a delighted gasp as she sets it down. “Hamlet? Oh, darling, tell me you’re doing it.”

“Calm yourself,” you warn, reaching for your drink. “I said possibly.”

She spreads her hands dramatically. “I can already see it now—the staging, the lighting—”

“Don’t start designing the posters just yet,” you cut in, but she’s grinning too widely to be discouraged. “I can still change my mind.”

“You know that’s a lot for one person,” Viktor remarks, leaning in from your right, his voice lower, meant just for the two of you. His pupils are darker, wider than the number of glasses of wine he’s had would suggest, assessing you from under hooded eyelids.

“I’ve always run through my life,” you say simply, tipping your glass toward him. “I do have help, though.” Viktor clicks his tongue, his mouth curving into a half-smile.

Before you can figure out what it means, Mion suddenly snaps her fingers. “Wait—how did you and Mel meet, anyway?”

Mel waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, I saw her preparing Yerma, and it was love at first sight.”

“Love?” Salo lifts a brow.

“She was standing on stage, sleeves rolled up, arguing over how the chairs should be arranged.” Mel sighs theatrically. “Her diligence. Her eye for detail. I knew I had to have her.”

Jayce snorts. “And by ‘have her,’ you mean ‘fund her.’”

Mel grins. “Exactly.”

The table dissolves into laughter, glasses clinking. Conversations crisscross—Salo and Mion bickering over some technical aspect of stage production, and you don’t have the heart to correct them. Jayce launching into an enthusiastic recounting of an experiment gone wrong. Someone beside you leans in to talk, and for a moment, you lose the thread of conversation.

The haze of smoke, the warmth of alcohol-softened breaths, the layered voices���it all blurs. Next to you, Viktor is speaking, but his words are swallowed by the noise.

The room tilts slightly, or maybe it’s just the drink settling in. Sounds overlap and ring in your ears as exhaustion takes hold and you zone out. Somewhere nearby, a bottle of wine gets passed around, then discarded in the middle of the table, still within your reach. A voice cuts through the fog, softer, closer. Then sharper, clearer than before.

Foreshadowed by Viktor’s hand on your leg—his right palm rests on you, and the moment it does, you tilt toward him, only to find he’s done the same. His fingers press inward, just barely grazing the inside of your thigh. It’s a gentle invasion, entirely unprovocative, something that simply happens—natural. His left arm hovers over your backrest as his mouth nears your ear, and you can feel the tickle of his hair on your cheek.

“Pass me the wine.” A soft command, tilting toward a question at the end, firm and quiet all at once.

You reach for the bottle without looking, your eyes fixed on his throat as he breathes. The moment it comes close, his touch leaves your leg and finds your fingers instead. His skin brushes yours, spreading the sweat from the glass onto your own, and something coils low in your stomach.

“Good…” he murmurs, clipped, as if something else should follow. “Thank you.” And then his warmth is gone, leaving you painfully sober, achingly empty.

It’s one of the most agonising seconds of your life—except this time, there’s something sickly sweet curling around the edges, a lingering undertone that was missing from all the other agonising moments you’ve suffered through.

For the rest of the evening, your attention doesn’t waver, save for the necessary moments to put Mel in the spotlight.

Viktor lingers close. Not close enough to raise any eyebrows—everyone else is too busy bickering and laughing at Jayce’s anecdotes—but enough for you to notice and relish in it. His breath occasionally fans your face when he leans over you for the bottle, his knee bumps yours under the table. He sits tilted toward you, his arm hooked against your stool, and his eyes never leave you, one way or another. He bombards you with questions and answers yours without blinking.

"Where did you study?" you ask, lips glued to the rim of your glass, leaving a stamp of lipstick there.

"Abroad," he says vaguely, tipping his head. "You?"

"England. Try again," you counter, not looking up, only baring your teeth to the remnants of a cocktail in your hand.

Viktor exhales a quiet chuckle, tilting his glass idly in his fingers before conceding, "Vigilant, of course. Very well—biochemistry at UTC Prague." He pauses, watching your reaction. "Then onward to Francis Crick through MSCA. Now—tell me yours." The last part, a command again, gentle and firm, and you find yourself reciting in no time.

"Theatre and Performance at Goldsmiths," you reply, your words a little looser, the alcohol working its way through your veins.

"Ah, how prestigious," he murmurs, voice laced with amusement.

"If you consider five years of bullying that, then yes," you slur, twirling the drink in your glass. His expression sharpens, brows lifting slightly in silent question. You sigh, meeting his gaze. "I got The Royal Academy of Dramatic Art scholarship. Before that, I led an utterly non-prestigious life in Staines."

"Hardworking girl," he purrs, and oh—his hand returns to your thigh, this time less inconspicuous as he drags a long finger up and stops just beneath the hem of your skirt.

"Where do you live?" he asks, his voice dipping lower, quieter, like the answer might be something just for him.

"Hackney," you answer immediately, then, seeing his knowing smile, feel the need to correct yourself. "The bad Hackney. You?"

"Eh, Islington," Viktor says, a hint of sheepishness in his voice.

Your mock jaw drop is immediate. "Unbelievable," you drawl. "And you dare to make fun of my fancy living?"

Viktor smirks, fingers brushing your thigh before retreating. "You are making it up. But we can share a cab home then."

Something jumps in your chest at the thought of being locked in a tiny space alone with this man. And the cab driver, but, nevertheless. "I suppose we can. When do you want to go?" you ask, as steadily as you can manage right now.

He exhales slowly, then leans in, breath warm against your ear. "Let's go now."

You have to stop your eyes from rolling in your skull. In fact, with the mix of various alcohols cursing through your veins and the secretive glances he’s been giving you, you’d probably nod vigorously if he offered to fuck you on the bar.

You step away from the table, weaving through the crowded space as you pull out your phone. Your fingers tremble slightly—whether from the drinks or the anticipation, you can't tell. It doesn’t matter. The cab company confirms your ride is on its way, barely three minutes out.

When you return, Viktor is still lounging against the table, his fingers tracing the rim of the now-empty glass. He doesn’t look at you right away, but his body angles toward you the moment you step back into his space. You lean in just enough to let the scent of him—wine, sweet sweat and washing powder—settle into your senses before speaking.

“We have three minutes,” you say casually, as if not stopping yourself from clenching your thighs.

Viktor gives a small, knowing nod and starts shuffling around for his cane and coat. His movements are unhurried, but there’s a quiet efficiency to them, a preparedness that has you smiling.

From across the table, Mel lets out a dramatic sigh. “You’re leaving already? I knew I shouldn’t have sat two workaholics together.”

Jayce snorts into his drink. “At least they lasted this long. I was expecting Viktor to slip out halfway through.”

Viktor hums in vague amusement, fastening the buttons of his coat. “And miss all your storytelling? Impossible.”

Mel rolls her eyes but grins. “Fine, fine. Go, be boring. Just don’t forget—” she waggles a finger at you—“you owe me a Hamlet.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Goodnight, Mel.”

With that, you feel Viktor’s hand brush lightly against the small of your back—an absentminded gesture, almost cautious, but it sends a thrill down your spine.

It’s raining again, and neither of you has an umbrella, so you huddle together under your purse until Viktor opens the door for you. You fall in with no grace whatsoever and slide your ass across the back seat to make space for him. He steps in slowly, throws his address to the driver, then slumps down beside you, looking at you expectantly.

For a moment, you freeze—until you realise everyone is waiting for your address. Mumbling out the street and number, you lean back, your shoulder blades pressing against his arm.

And oh. You know damn well you won’t be able to let this go beyond tonight—or that you shouldn’t be fucking around where you figuratively eat—but he smells good, and his eyes stay on you, dark and hungry. So you tip yourself into the crook of his shoulder, tilting your head up with an innocently pleading look.

Viktor chuckles, as if something has just been confirmed, and his slender hand finds its way between your thighs. His body shifts subtly, shielding you from the driver, who barely suppresses an eye roll in the rear-view mirror. His lips, burning with alcohol and want, close over yours. His tongue pushes inside, licking slow and deep along the row of your teeth. Light touch travels up your leg, stopping painfully close to where you ache for him most, and then he squeezes—just enough to brace himself as he leans in further.

You fumble with the buttons of his coat, slipping your hands beneath to tug the shirt free from his trousers. Another warm chuckle rumbles against your lips.

“So efficient,” he murmurs, breaking the kiss to mouth at your ear. His breath is hot when he whispers, “Do you want to fuck here, or will you be a good girl and wait until we get home?”

A strangled moan escapes you, and your own hand flies up to clamp over your mouth. Viktor grins against your skin.

“Good. Quiet,” he purrs, before dragging his tongue in a slick trail down your neck, stopping halfway to suck a bruise into your flesh.

Breath stumbles in your lungs when he stops, lips flushed, wet and red with your smeared lipstick, his teeth barely grazing your skin before he leans back to look at you. His fingers remain firm between your legs, a teasing pressure that makes legs tense and tremble.

Whatever has led you to this moment is not your usual behaviour, but somehow, you can’t be bothered to announce it. Long ago—somewhere after shitty date number five, or fifteen—you swore off bad sex for the sake of no sex and peace of mind. You grew tired of partners who were more tease than do, and the ones who assumed you’d thrive on organising everything in bed, just as you do at work.

You crave someone to take that pressure off you. Someone who would simply allow you to be dumb, even just for a few moments. To fuck your brains out so that poor strongest muscle of yours can replenish and breathe before you have to step back into the saddle and lead the chaotic orchestra of theatre technicians, actors, directors, and founders toward whatever critics deem a successful season. To take all the decision-making away and praise you for it.

And you have no guarantee that Viktor will do exactly that—other than the way his roaming hand squeezes your leg so firmly or the way his tongue, insistent and wanting, doesn’t ask permission before invading your mouth. The way he has stared at you the entire night has left you hotter and more bothered than anyone’s scrutiny ever has. And even if this is a mistake, it’s one you are willing to make. Your thighs shake at the thought, and Viktor gasps softly against your lips.

"You're trembling," he murmurs, voice low as the vowels roll thickly off his tongue. His free hand reaches up, pushing your hair aside. He trails his knuckles along your jaw, thumb pressing against your parted lips. "Cold, or something else?"

You give a breathy laugh, rolling your hips into his palm, chasing that friction. Viktor hums, pleased, before his fingers slip higher—just ghosting over the barely hanging-there nylons shielding your underwear. Your breath catches.

The cab rattles over a pothole, jolting you both, but neither of you pulls away. If anything, it only makes Viktor bolder. He shifts to face you fully, pressing you back into the seat as he kisses you again, deeper this time, his tongue curling languidly around yours. You taste wine and your own spit on him, and it makes you dizzy.

His hand abandons your thigh only to grab your wrist, dragging it to the front of his trousers, where he's already half-hard beneath the layers of fabric. "I want you," he breathes against your mouth, nipping at your lower lip before letting his forehead drop to yours.

You palm him through the material, pressing just enough to make him suck in a sharp breath. The sound alone makes a fresh gush of lust bloom in your knickers.

Then—a pointed cough.

You both jolt as if caught doing something far more illicit than you already are.

"Islington," the cab driver announces dryly, eyes fixed firmly on the road.

Viktor huffs out a laugh, dragging his fingers through his already-mussed hair. "Do you want to come in?" he says, as if you hadn’t just been grinding against each other like reckless teenagers in the back of a cab.

You swallow, pulse still pounding in your ears. "Yes," you nod. "Yes."

“I suppose we will wrap up the ride here,” Viktor says reaching for his wallet and taking out one note too many to make up for whatever the poor man had to endure. “Yeah, mate, I figured. Have a great night.”

[lucenra]

Triggered

𝓟airing ↳ Jinu X F!Reader

𝓘𝓷 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓬𝓱 .. reader thinks if she should forgive Jinu.

𝓦arnings .. no warnings !

𝓐uthor's note .. part 1 if u havent read , kinda short 😔

“Well…” you started hesitating. Your voice was barely audible over the soft buzz of the fluorescent lights above. You looked down at the bag of chips in your hand, then back up at him. “You say you’ve changed. But how do I know that? How do I trust anything that comes out of your mouth?”

Jinu stepped closer, careful not to invade your space. “I don’t expect you to trust me right away. Or even believe me. But I just— I need you to know that what I did… it haunts me every single day.”

You narrowed your eyes, unsure whether to scoff or cry. “Good. It should.”

He looked down, swallowing hard. “I know I messed up. I threw away something real. I was scared, immature, and stupid. But I’ve been working on myself, Y/N. I swear. Therapy, time off, reflecting— I’ve been trying to become someone better. Someone who deserves to be with you.”

You blinked, heart pounding. Part of you wanted to believe him. Another part wanted to scream.

“You don’t get to come back after a year and expect me to just… what? Forget everything and forgive you?”

“No,” he said quickly. “I don’t expect that. I just… I just hoped you’d let me try.”

Silence settled between you like thick fog. You turned away, pretending to scan the drinks fridge.

“I don’t know, Jinu,” you murmured. “You broke something in me. I had to teach myself how to be okay again without you.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “And I saw it. I saw you doing better. I saw you laughing again. I hated myself for not being the one who made you smile anymore. But I'm proud of you.”

You looked back at him. His eyes weren’t filled with charm or smugness like before. They were soft. Honest. Maybe for the first time in a long time.

You took a deep breath. “This doesn’t mean I’m forgiving you. Or letting you back into my life. But… maybe, just maybe… I’ll let you prove it.

His face lit up, just a little. Not with hope, but with gratitude.

“That’s all I ask,” he said.

You picked up the blue Takis and walked past him toward the register. Before stepping away, you paused and looked over your shoulder.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“I won’t,” he promised.

But promises were easy. Keeping them was the hard part.

♡

As you made your way back to your place, you immediately broke down. Was that the right decision?

Whatever, it doesn't matter now. You made your choice. Everything happens for a reason, you think to yourself.

You grabbed your phone and searched his contact. Seeing his name and info, you hesitated to press the unblock button.

Fuck it, you unblocked him. Where's the harm in that? Maybe he really had changed.

You sighed and stood up, tossing all your belongings on your couch. You went to the kitchen and just stood there, sighing again, putting your head in your hands. Silent.

A few minutes later your phone started ringing. You rushed back to the couch, hoping it was one of your best friends. No, it was Jinu.

You paused before you answered.

"Hello?" You heard his voice on the other line.

You pursed your lips. "Hey, Jinu." You didn't know those two words made him fold instantly. The way you said his name, he loved it.

You heard him take a deep breath before responding to you. "How are you?" he asked, like you two hadn't just talked 30 minutes ago.

"Jinu, we just saw each other and—"

"I know, I know," he cut you off, "I just wanted to talk to you again, I'm sorry."

"It's fine." You sighed. Silence followed. The only thing you heard was the fan in his room. You started biting your nails— a nervous habit.

Finally, he spoke. "Well, I'm sorry for bothering you. It's late, and you should be sleeping soon. Goodnight, Y/N."

"You didn't bother me, don't worry. But, goodnight Jinu, sleep well." He smiled when he heard you say that.

"I'll text you in the morning, is that okay with you?" He asked,

"... Sure." After that was said, he hung up. You rested your head on your knees, then smiled.

Same for Jinu, he couldn't stop smiling. When he was brushing his teeth, he was cheesing, picking out his pjs, he was cheesing, looking up at the ceiling, he was still cheesing. His cheeks started hurting so much, and he couldn't wait for the morning.

[aliceintvland]

In Circles Somewhere Else -- Ch 1

Hiiiiiii here's a new Robby x reader fic. PLS hmu with feedback <3 xoxo

This takes place like 6 months after Pittfest BTW

18+. NSFW eventually but not quite yet. Hurt and angst and fluff and all of the things. Age gap (reader is early 30s) Typical canon medical lingo. Warnings will vary by chapter.

He should hate you.

In fact, he probably does. Not that you've asked him. Since the moment you walked out the door nearly three years ago, you hadn't asked him much of anything.

Putting the ring, gold banded and sparkling in the exact shape you like, on the kitchen table--you walked out the door of your shared townhouse. The one you had just decorated for the holidays; blue Hanukkah lights on a small Christmas tree. The last of you compromises in an increasingly volatile household.

It wasn't an easy decision to leave Robby. When you had met at a bar in 2018, he was charming and full of life. He could leave his baggage at the door. He could woo you, assure you, and treat you well.

COVID changed things. Adamson changed things.

He retreated. Snapping at you for no reason, refusing to discuss his feelings, and burying himself in extra shifts. The only time he'd fuck you was when your ovulation app told him it was time--lifeless and mechanical. As if a baby would make him whole again.

The pre-pandemic Robby would've cheered you on when you decided you were getting your Master's in social work. He would've picked out the finest bottle of champagne, and bragged to all of his colleagues at after-work drinks that his girl was going to be a clinical social worker. He'd tell you how proud he was as he kissed every inch of your body.

But the new version of him, forever changed by grief and trauma, simply shook his head. "Why would you want to do that?"

"Because," you had said, holding out hope that he'd snap out of whatever trance he was in. That he'd reemerge and hold you and tell you he's proud.

"Whatever makes you happy, kid," he said, shaking his head.

That's when you knew it was time to go. That whatever was broken within him wasn't something you could fix.

And it wasn't for lack of trying. You'd spent the end of 2020 and all of 2021 trying to bring him back. Glimpses would appear, that smile you fell in love with would pull you in for a morning kiss, toast burning because he put the toaster oven on too high again.

He'd tell you he's sorry. That you're his rock. He couldn't do it without you.

But the next time he'd come home, bones weary and eyes heavy, he'd shut you out. He'd push your hands away from his waist, muttering something about how you're suffocating him.

All you do is suffocate him.

The words echo through your head now, even three years later, as you walk down the hall of PTMC. Kiara leads you, her pregnant belly guiding the way, speaking quickly but calmly as she fills you in on all you'll need to cover while she's on maternity leave.

"You've gotta be shittin' me!" a familiar voice echoes through the Pitt, Dana's open arms coming toward you. You embrace her tightly, trying to ease your nerves. "You're the new Kiara?"

"For 3 months," you smile, accepting her warmth. "How have you been?"

"I should be asking you that," she speaks lowly, looking around, as if she's giving you classified information. "Robby know?"

"I'm sure he does," you stand up a little straighter. You had considered calling him, but nerves got the best of you. As if in person is better. "He had to sign off, right?"

"Nope," Dana shrugs. "Gloria does that shit. He might be in the dark."

"Maybe I can dodge him," you tease. "3 months is nothing."

"He's not in a good place," the blonde gets serious, and you hate the way your stomach lurches after all this time. "I mean, you know. But it's been worse since the shooting."

You want to hold him in your arms and make it all go away. If he only would've let you.

A week after Pittfest, you had called him. After two rings, you got sent to voicemail. You had hoped he wasn't affected. Maybe he was off that day, like he usually was.

"Kiara," Langdon appears, a look of disbelief as he takes you in. It's been years since he's seen you, and from the way he stiffens, you're positive he took Robby's side. Not that you blame him. "Oh. Are you-?"

"Yup," you nod meekly. "Hi Dr Langdon."

"Hey," he stumbles, clearly thrown off. "We have a case for you. Maybe. A teenager with a lot of mysterious bruising. She's recently placed in foster care, and came in after fainting at school."

"Alright," you take the chart from his hands and begin walking towards the room. "Medical causes ruled out?"

"Doing some tests now," he says. "She has a history of dysautonomia. But wanted to get an opinion given the change in living situations."

You turn to him as you're outside the door.

"I'll assess," you say confidently. After your Master's program in youth group homes, this was a walk in the park. "Just come get me if anything comes back. "

Frank opens his mouth as you head toward the door, but you're reading the girl's chart, too engrossed to notice his warning.

"Hi Amelia," you say, eyes glued to the paper as you step into the room, moving to sit by her bedside. You don't even clock the broad figure standing at the computer, typing coming to a halt as you enter the room. "I'm Y/N, it's nice to meet-"

Your words get stuck in your throat as you look up and see Robby, jaw clenched. He runs his hand through his hair, shaking his head and clearly fighting back some sort of guttural reaction.

"Michael-"

"Dr. Robinavitch," he corrects you somewhat harshly, turning back to the computer. You swear you hear a sniffle, or at the very least a throat-clear.

You talk to Amelia, eyes wandering to him every once in a while, until he turns.

"Alright," he claps his hand, faux calmness washing over him. But you can tell he's about to crack. "I'm waiting on a few labs, but I think this is just a dysautonomia flare."

"I told you," the girl scoffs.

"You know we have to do our due diligence," he responds plainly. "I'm going to step out for a few minutes. If you have anything else you want to talk to Y/N about, now is the time."

He doesn't even look back at you as he steps out, the door closing louder than normal. All you can do is focus on the patient in front of you, weaving personal questions into conversation so that she doesn't put her guard back up.

Once you're satisfied that the bruises are simply a result of her condition, you hand her a business card. "In case you need anything at all."

"I won't," she shrugs. "But thank you."

Nodding, you step into the hallway. Robby's at his desk, glasses sitting low on his face, foot tapping quicker than usual.

"Can we talk for a second?" you ask, tapping him on the shoulder, trying not to hurt when he physically recoils at your touch. All he does is shrug, focused on the chart in front of him. "Robby, please."

He nods, standing and gesturing toward an empty trauma bay. Dana looks at you knowingly as you step in, the door closing behind you.

Robby paces, it's a habit he's had since the day you met. A stark contrast to your calm yet sad demeanor, sitting cross-legged on the gurney.

"You should've warned me," he says, tone rife with irritation. "You can't just show up here. Ambushing me in my ER, after three fucking years."

"I'm sorry," you look down. He was right. This is an ambush. "I assumed you knew."

"Well I didn't," is all he says for a moment. The pacing stops, his hand running through his hair as he looks at you.

Neither of you speak, eyes locking as you examine the other. He looks older than when you last saw him--as you'd expect. Time passes. His beard has more gray, and his hair is less well-kept.

You wonder if he notices the ways in which you've changed. The few pounds you gained after leaving, from living off of take-out and protein bars in grad school. The new wrinkle between your eyebrows. The highlights you got last summer that still haven't completely faded.

"I can go," you say, voice small.

"No," he shakes his head, pacing again for a moment before he sits on the edge of the bed. You fight the urge to place your hand over his. "God knows we need social workers. And I know you're a damn good one."

"Are you okay?" your words are shaky. He just looks at you, exasperated, shaking his head and clenching his jaw.

"You don't get to ask me that," is all he says.

"I've missed you," you croak out. Now you're definitely just spewing word vomit. Not that it isn't true--because it is. But his reaction shows you just why you should've kept it to yourself.

"Don't fucking say that to me," he says.

"I'll always l-" you catch yourself. Because you aren't even sure if you mean it. "I'll always care about you, Michael."

"Fine," he shrugs. "If you care about me so much, here's what we're going to do. While you're here, we're co-workers. That's it."

"But-"

"No," he says, voice loud yet shaky. "You don't get to come back like nothing happened. I know I wasn't the best partner to you, and I live with that regret every day. But you left."

"I tried," your eyes are welling with tears. He catches them, his own vulnerability peaking through for a moment before he snaps back into his anger. "I really did."

"Look where that got us," he says, voice flat. Broken. "I have patients. I'll see you later."

He stands up, wiping his eyes and storming out of the room.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Meeting Student!Gun Park for the First Time: Part 1

Part 2! G/N. 3.2k. Remember when Gun wanted to get his GED? Well. Stranger to~ Masterlists

"How old are you?"

"20."

Press X for doubt, you think, and that's the exact meme you send over on chat.

"20 like 20 or 20 like you're mid 30s and planning your mid life crisis 20?"

You know you're being rude and making a terrible first impression. It's the first day of a new school year, of a new school in fact, and for some reason the class is held on video call and you're all forced to pair off with a classmate for an icebreaker introduction.

It’s already cringe worthy and awkward enough, icebreakers must have been created as a form of torture. To add insult to injury, you're sure this guy is bullshitting you.

"I'm 20." He deadpans.

Momentarily, you’re stunned into silence. It stretches almost a tad too long before you manage to choke out, “My bad. Sorry."

Wow. You're torn between thinking that's a rough 20, this guy has easily got 40 years under his belt and oh no, when is your puberty and hormones gonna kick in like that.

And that's also the exact moment this 20 year old Gun Park takes a drag on a cigarette and you decide that it's definitely a rough 20.

"So what do you do for fun?" You probe, and you have the distinct feeling he might say something like alimony, planning his third marriage, investing in the stock market - whatever someone in their 50s might say but-

To your surprise and glee, his body language turns shifty. 

He likes to game he says, like it's a dirty little secret. Amongst other things. Mentions something about training and martial arts and you fight to keep a straight face as it turns out you were also right about investing in shares and the stock market.

Gaming, however, is what you latch on to.

"Cute. I bet I could kick your ass."

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh yes."

And this is how you ended up at 4am on a school night, playing Tekken with your new classmate and getting your ass kicked.

"One more!" You screech down the mic, after the KO sign appears on screen, mumbling something about cheating and how if you can time this combo just right-

There's a huff of laughter coming through your tinny headphones and an amused "Fine."

.

.

Dark circles under your eyes grow. It's been a week of straight losses.

You blame the sleep deprivation on Gun Park, though really you have your own stubbornness to blame.

He never tends to say much during the gaming sessions apart from the odd expletive and you rant enough after each of your defeats for the both of you.

Sometimes this will earn you a chuckle and he will snidely add that you asked for this, you were the one who was supposed to kick his ass. This would piss you off enough for another game or three in the hopes of defeating him and getting to gloat.

Which unfortunately has not happened yet.

With a sigh, you hope your camera quality this morning is bad enough and pixelated enough that your poor sleep habits don't show.

You scan over your classmates, the few that have their camera turned on and find him.

Gun looks completely fine. He looks completely fine in what must be 4k and ugh, you scrunch your nose up in annoyance.

You keep an eye on him through the class. Observe how he's usually paying rapt attention, scribbling and typing up notes every now and then.

It's impressive how studious he is.

In comparison, you're daydreaming. Thinking about lunch, other combos or characters to play to counter his own when you catch on to the back end of a sentence as your teacher mentions ‘this’ is something to pay attention to as it will be on the pop quiz.

Huh? You blink a couple times. What is ‘this’? Unfortunately she swiftly moves onto another topic.

You type out a direct message to the only person you know.

You: I missed that, what did she just say?

Gun: You should have been paying attention.

You: Fuck you man!

You see his eyes dip to the bottom of the camera screen, briefly moving as he presumably reads your message.

He smirks.

That night he kicks your ass again.

Then as consolation, reveals what will be on the pop quiz.

.

.

If Gun looked like that in 4k, nothing could prepare you for how he looked in real life.

You're setting up your laptop and notepad in the classroom, the first actual in-person session, when someone takes a seat next to you.

Initially you feel a surge of irritation that they could have sat anywhere else and chose to sit next to you, then you look at the offender and-

Hold on.

You double, triple-take-

Is that?

It must be.

Shit.

It's fucking Gun Park.

You don't entirely regret your initial comments on his looks because this guy definitely does not look 20 but goddamn he looks-

He chooses that moment, when your jaw is on the floor, to turn to you and give you a nod of acknowledgement.

"Y/N."

"H-hi." You manage, and even to your ears it sounds like a simpering fool.

He must have thought so too if the quirk of his lips is anything to go by.

The cherry on top is that you expected this guy to smell like stale smoke, instead all you get is fresh laundry and something faintly dark and heady like leather and cedarwood.

Fuck.

Control yourself, a disapproving voice in your head says. Even that sounds vaguely like Gun.

It does nothing to stop your wandering gaze, peering at him in your periphery when you think he's not looking.

After you have taken your chance to not so discreetly run your eyes up and down his form, the only thing that makes you feel better is his hair. Because yeah he might be hot, but holy shit that must be a gallon of hair gel in there.

.

.

The other thing, as it turns out, that makes you feel a lot better is that he doodles.

It’s utterly charming.

Someone like Gun Park doesn't look like he doodles, but in between lines of his chicken scratch (seriously, who can even read that), there's little stick figures.

Maybe all the time you thought he was being studious he was just drawing-

Wait. You squint at the picture.

Is this guy for real?

"Are they fucking?" You whisper, using your pen to point at the page.

He doesn't answer straight away. There's a moment of surprise as he reacts like this is another secret of his he has unwittingly let you in on before his nostril flares and his eyes narrow and you grin in response.

Your grin grows when he grits out an answer. "No. Fighting."

He doesn't call you a dumbass but you can hear it loud and clear tacked on at the end.

"Whatever, pervert." You counter. You guess if you squint even harder then you suppose they could be fighting. Although the way one is lying on top of another is very suggestive. You don't hesitate to point that out to him.

Gun closes his eyes and counts to ten.

.

.

Even without a seating plan, one forms.

Places taken by chance on the first day becomes a regular arrangement.

You exchange a few words with your classmates, familiarise yourself somewhat with their names and faces. Pieces of their backstory, why they're here studying for a GED but take your spot next to Gun regardless.

No one really talks to him, you've heard them saying he's menacing and intimidating. Yet when your first encounter of him was mistaking him as someone about to hit mid life crisis, how intimidating can he really be.

Besides, he still doodles his lewd figures that he insists are not in any way shape or form comprising sexual positions. So no, you don't find him intimidating at all.

.

.

Gun, as you have come to know, is a man of few words. He is also unsurprisingly not great at literature.

What you don't yet know is he likes to say what he means and mean what he says. His patience only extends to The Art of War, so all the flowery prose and poetry only serves to irritate him.

If Gun glared at you the way he's currently glaring at the textbook, you think you may either burst into tears or burst into flames.

Luckily you do neither of those things but you do take pity on him. Leaning over, you ask him quietly if he needs help.

He doesn't respond but the pen he's clutching in his right hand snaps in half.

Alright then.

Half an hour later, when the class empties out you ask Gun to follow you to the library.

He hesitates, and you add "if you've got time" to give him an out. In the end he doesn't take it and trudges obediently after you.

You very quickly learn that he really doesn't like literature. You're explaining and working him through the analysis and also mildly offended at the bored look on his face.

"This is a waste of time," he interjects and there's a sullen undercurrent to his words.

"Just memorise the analysis then." Exasperation tinges your tone, "That's all you need to do to pass."

He arches a brow at your words.

"They're testing your memory. So just remember what our teacher says."

There's an angry air of resignation as Gun nods, and you slide your notes over for him to copy.

.

.

Not long after, you have your first minor evaluation on the literature material.

You notice during the test that while the vein in Gun’s temple is prominent and he’s clutching his (new) pen tighter, there’s barely any pause as he fills in the answers.

A few days later, the graded papers are handed back. There's a sigh of relief from Gun.

He gives you a smile, small and genuine, eyes crinkling at the corner.

"You owe me one," you tell him jokingly though he takes it to heart and gives you a stern nod.

.

.

Gun repays his debt, with a coffee.

He places the paper cup on the desk in front of you. Logo of the coffee house to the side but still visible. It's new, expensive, and there’s regular lines around the block.

Of course it would be from there.

The issue is, who repays a debt with an espresso. He didn’t even ask for your drink of choice!

"Thanks for this thimble of coffee," you remark as Gun sniffs in distaste at your comment, placing his own matching cup in front of him and saying something about how it's the best untainted way to drink it.

Of course he would also be a coffee snob.

You tell him you usually like it with a bit more cream and a lot more sugar and he mutters that you sound like Goo.

You think that's an insult.

"Well, at least Goo has good taste," you snipe back with a grin.

Gun closes his eyes and counts to ten.

.

.

You: Are you doodling or actually writing notes?

You: Cos on camera you look very studious but I’ve seen your notepad

Gun: None of your business

You: Still drawing your disgusting pornographic stick men then

Gun: They are not-

Gun: Whatever

.

.

You: Ok, maybe that espresso wasn’t terrible

Gun: I know

You: Who’s Goo anyway?

Gun: …

Gun: No-one

You: Suuuure

.

.

You: Tekken tonight?

Gun: Aren’t you tired of getting your ass kicked?

You: >:(

.

.

You: Do you wanna go over the new lit material in the library this week?

Gun: Ok

.

.

Gun: Thanks for your help

You: :) 

.

.

Gun: You’re tired. You should game less.

You: Spoken like a coward!

Gun: Dumbass

You: Hey!!

.

.

Gun: I’ll bring you an espresso tomorrow. You need it.

You: Does it have to be an espresso?

Gun: Yes

You: …Thanks

.

.

To anyone else, the figure standing in the doorway is just smoking. To you, it suspiciously looks like they’re waiting.

It's not a crime. Gun Park can wait for whatever or whoever he wants.

What really throws you off is his smoking. You've seen him casually take one single drag before throwing the whole cigarette away. Even to you, it seems like a waste.

However, this time he smokes one all the way to the filter before stubbing it out. Then does the same to a second, and third.

Strange, very strange.

You approach him. Taking gentle steps, in case he might get spooked and bolt which is really a ridiculous notion for someone like him. Nevertheless, you keep your footsteps light, yourself clearly in view and you wander over to him.

"Hey," you say, with a somewhat forced smile. He doesn't acknowledge your greeting apart from a brief nod.

"... Everything ok?"

It's a perfectly normal question to ask but a vastly bizarre one for Gun. He doesn't look like the type of person where people casually enquire about his well being.

He must have thought so too if the look he gives you is anything to go by.

In response, he stubs out his cigarette (his fourth!) then asks, stilted and stiffly, if you want to come back to his for a game of Tekken.

At least that's what you interpret as he seems to be crazy cryptic.

"Are you interested in Tekken?"

"...Yes." You wonder what on earth this question is because did you hallucinate all those games you played together?

"Then meet me. After class." 

"Where? Here?"

"No. At mine."

"Where's that?"

"..."

He gives you another look, as if you're the one trying to coax a secret out of him despite him offering.

Gun dips forward, murmurs quietly into your ear his address and some vague directions like it's highly confidential information.

You nod along, thinking what is with this guy. 

.

.

So firstly, what the fuck.

Then secondly, what the fuck.

Don't think you hadn't noticed the designer brands Gun wears. If they're fakes, they're very convincing fakes. But you're almost certain they have got to be counterfeit when he brought you over to a junkyard claiming this is where he lives.

You've seen films like this. Granted, it's less in a junkyard and more in the middle of nowhere in America where college kids meet their gruesome ends in fantastical ways.

You never thought this would happen to you. You have sorely miscalculated. 

Is this Gun Park (if that even is his real name) going to butcher you and leave your body on top of a pile of scrap metal in the corner?

Instead of a night of gaming where you’re the one KO-ing him, he’s actually the one that’s going to chase you around wearing a mask and wielding a knife or axe?

"You’re here. Come in," Gun says, opening his front door just as your inner monologue begins to truly spiral out of control and you're considering doing a runner.

"Eh?" You grunt like an idiot, not noticing when the shack appeared nor when you stepped onto his porch, or the side eyes Gun had been giving you.

He gives you another look, likely regretting inviting you at all, and leaves the door ajar for you to either enter or turn back and go home.

.

.

"This is... nice," you lie, through the skin of your teeth.

Gun sees cleanly through your white lie and exhales a huff of amusement.

It's sparse. Peeks of luxury here and there - the extensive PC gaming rig, the entertainment system and consoles, to name a few.

Apart from that, it's barely a home.

"Take a seat." He offers, and it sounds more like an order. Obediently you sit on his sofa, feeling very much a guest.

"You're not in danger," he says, bemused at how awkward you are in his domain, how tense you hold yourself.

'That's exactly what a killer would say,' you think and when you hear a low chuckle, you realise that you said it aloud.

"Don't worry," Gun reassures and it doesn’t really help before he strides off to somewhere in his house and leaves you sitting alone.

He returns back minutes later as you’re in the middle of admiring his entertainment set up and going through his vinyl collection (because obviously someone like Gun has vinyls) with a coffee for you that looks much more milky and to your taste than the usual ones he offers. 

“Thanks.” you take your drink and return back to your seat.

Taking the first sip, you finally manage to relax. Sinking into a sofa that is much more comfortable than at first glance and you take in your surroundings a bit more.

Sort of. You actually take in Gun Park more. 

He’s casual, in a way you have never seen or even considered. Dressed in a t-shirt and grey sweatpants, hair floppy and the only styling is done with his hands running through his hair now and then to keep it back.

Even during the online classes, he is usually dressed up in an open collared shirt.

If you thought he was hot before, it’s nothing compared to now. There’s an air of domesticity, the drink he made for you cradled in your hands, and the distinct feeling that not many people have had the luxury to see Gun in his natural habitat, so intimate and vulnerable.

You wonder if this is how he looks all those nights you’ve been gaming together.

You catch his eyes, having been caught checking him out and he raises his eyebrows at your blatant staring. 

Blood rushes to your cheeks as he chuckles into his own espresso and takes a sip.

.

.

"Holy shit, I won!"

You're familiar with the KO screen. What you're not familiar with is being on the side of victory. You're usually a hair trigger away from rage quitting, from throwing a tantrum down the mic.

Finally. All your hard work has paid off. Time spent thinking of combos, attacks and defences (which would have been better spent studying) is coming to fruition.

You peer over to Gun, expect the controller he is clutching to maybe have been crushed into pieces with his freakish strength. Expected nothing except for a vein throbbing on his temple.

What you do find is-

Gun looking at you, fondness in his eyes. He's taking in your grin, letting your gloating slide.

Doesn't do more than roll his eyes when you perform a victory dance of sorts around him.

And when you get in his face to tell him that you're the winner, you're the best-

(More words are on the tip of your tongue but your gaze drops to his lip, drawn to the small smile he wears.

It sinks in.

The patience he has, the attention he gives, the way he has opened his home to you.

From the very first meeting, the even-handed way he has dealt with your insults, entertained you to the early hours of the morning on Tekken.)

Gun reaches out, tugs your hand and pulls you into his lap and agrees.

"Yes. The best."

You think it's a lie, an embellishment.

But the way he holds you - tender and precious, and the way he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours - soft, like you might break - can't be anything else but the whole truth.

(Update! Part 2 here!)

[ankababy]

A Home (part 30)

Part 1 Part 29 Part 31

Chishiya x reader x Niragi

Reasonable crashout.

She laid at the center of it all. A knife in her chest. A girl. Just a girl.

Your hand brushed Chishiya’s sleeve without thinking—not grabbing, not holding, just touching. Kuina stood beside you, tense. The crowd was even worse.

Chishiya, in contrast, was too calm. That infuriating, slippery calm. Hands in his pockets. He tilted his head slightly to one side as if admiring a painting instead of a body.

Niragi’s silhouette walked into the growing chaos like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life. The crowd made way without being asked. He was grinning. Grinning. His eyes gleamed like a kid on Christmas morning. Something was happening. Finally. Something fun.

And he didn’t see you.

Didn’t notice.

Didn’t look.

That did something weird to your chest. That twisty little ache that didn’t know if it was relief or heartbreak or maybe just a warning from your subconscious screaming, run.

Beside you, Chishiya had already turned around and started walking. A quiet decision made. No hesitation. Not a fucking sliver of it.

And you stayed frozen, caught between the sharp pull of instinct and emotion. Between what you should do and what might happen if you left him, that man, in all of this, alone.

Niragu was practically vibrating with energy. You knew that look. It was the same one he had before violence, before something bad always happened. And if you were here when it started… if he looked at you…

He might pull you under with him.

Your throat felt dry. Muscles tight.

Then Kuina nudged you. Just a nudge. Elbow to ribs. Soft. Certain. She didn’t even look at you, just stepped after Chishiya like it was already decided—because for her, it was. She trusted Chishiya. Trusted his brain. Trusted his ability to survive, even when he played games behind her back.

So you did it. You followed.

You didn’t look back.

The crowd swallowed Niragi behind you. Swallowed the noises. The madness.

Yeah. You were doing great.

Chishiya didn’t even blink when your fingers slid between his. Not a glance, not a twitch. Just… accepted it. As if you two had been doing this forever.

His hand was warm. Soft. Unbothered, of course. Because he was Chishiya. His pulse didn’t spike for anything. (Except for you. But no one needed to know that part.)

You, on the other hand? You were squeezing a little tighter than necessary. Maybe to get yourself together. Maybe to say “I’m still here.” Maybe because your heart was going nuts.

Kuina walked a few paces ahead. Alert. You kept checking on her like a mom at a theme park. You loved her. The kind of love that made you worried when she walked too fast or didn’t look back. You weren’t gonna lose her in this crowd, no sir. If anyone even brushed against her wrong, they’d get a sharp jab in the eye with your elbow before they knew what hit them.

Not that Kuina needed protection. You were the bunny in a den of wolves, let’s be real. But still. You cared.

The sound behind you dimmed, like someone turned the volume down. The crowd was behind now, still circling the body. Voices were rising, louder, bloodthirstier.

You didn’t realize you’d been holding your breath until Chishiya turned his head slightly and said, with that perfect deadpan: “You can let go now, you know. No one’s chasing us.”

“No.” you murmured, soft and stubborn. “I don’t want to.”

And he didn’t argue. You weren’t letting go. Not of Kuina, not of him, not of yourself.

No more press of bodies. No one yelling “witch.” Just the empty hall stretching out in front of you.

“I’m not the witch.” you mumbled to no one in particular.

Kuina glanced over her shoulder and smiled a little. “Obviously.”

Chishiya didn’t say anything. But his thumb brushed your knuckle, just once, barely there. Which in Chishiya-speak meant I know.

Not that it mattered, right? You weren’t the witch—but what did that mean, really, when people were about to die just for breathing wrong? When Niragi was somewhere back there with a gun and a purpose and zero morals?

It didn’t matter who the witch was. It mattered who everyone wanted the witch to be. Poor people, fuck.

But for now, you had two people beside you. For now, your feet were moving away from the fire. For now, no one had tried to kill you yet. So maybe it wasn’t a win. But it was close enough.

The deeper into the resort you went, the quieter things became. The smell of smoke faded. Your steps echoed now.

“Where… are we going?” you asked, so sweet, so curious. You looked up at him with those eyes that made people want to tear their own throats open for a chance to see them just a little longer.

Chishiya didn’t even blink. “Security room.”

You tilted your head slightly. “There’s a security room?”

“Yes.” Kuina chimed in from ahead, turning slightly to glance at you.

You pressed your lips together, walking a few more paces in silence. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Chishiya didn’t answer. Of course he didn’t. Chishiya Shuntaro, king of omission, priest of manipulation, expert in giving you everything you wanted but only if it served him first. But he squeezed your hand. Brief. Just once. Not affection, not exactly. Not an apology either. Just… an acknowledgment. Like, I know. I hear you. I’m not going to answer, but I hear you.

That was all you got.

And you took it.

Like a fucking angel.

Because you were soft, yes, but you weren’t stupid. You weren’t naive. You just… loved. You didn’t need him to be honest. You just needed him to be close.

If someone had told him, months ago, that he’d be walking down dark hallways holding someone’s hand, letting them ask questions, not actively scheming to push them off a metaphorical (or literal) cliff… he would’ve laughed. Smirked, maybe. Given one of those flat, cold stares that said you clearly don’t know who the fuck I am.

But here he was.

And the wild part was… he didn’t hate it.

He didn’t love it—not in the way people with real hearts understood love. But he was addicted to it. Addicted to you. The sound of your voice. The way your hand felt curled in his, tight, warm, so so so good.

~

The security room was dim, lit mostly by the cold, bluish glow of the monitors lining the wall. Dozens of them, some flickering with static, some focused on stairwells and empty hallways, some on the lobby and courtyard of the Beach.

Kuina stood at the monitors, eyes scanning for signs of bloodshed. Chishiya stood behind her, arms crossed, locked in.

You were sitting in a chair in the center of the room, spinning in slow, absent-minded circles. You had one leg tucked under the other, hands lightly gripping the arms of the chair, cheek resting against your shoulder as you turned and turned, watching them.

(AN: geeked vs locked in I’M HOLLERING)

“Do you want anything?” you asked suddenly, voice soft. “Water? A snack? Painkillers? A hug?”

Kuina huffed a little laugh, still not taking her eyes off the screen. “I’m good. Thanks, babe.”

Chishiya didn’t respond. But you knew that was just his thing. So you smiled at him anyway, giving your chair one last spin before standing. You stretched, arms lifting, enough for Chishiya’s eyes to flicker, traitorously. He didn’t comment. Of course. He was a vault.

You walked between them slowly, fingers brushing the back of Kuina’s shoulder as you passed. “You guys have been watching for so long.” you murmured. “You must be tired. This whole place… it’s like it’s rotting. The Beach, I mean. Doesn’t feel like paradise anymore, does it?”

It was insane how seductive you were, all while doing nothing. Both of them felt it, and both of them loved it.

“No.” Kuina said, voice flat. “It doesn’t.”

“Paradise was always a lie.” Chishiya added, no emotion. Just observation.

You didn’t argue. But you frowned. And your shoulders dropped.

You paused behind them both, looking over at the monitors. People screaming. Fires flickering in the distance. Someone being dragged by the collar toward the pool. Someone else running with a blunt object in their hand.

“God.” you whispered. “It’s turning into a real witch hunt.”

“They want to believe someone’s to blame.” Kuina said.

“They want blood.” Chishiya said.

You were quiet for a second. Then—god, you were such a good girl—you rose on your tippy toes, first kissing Kuina’s cheek, and then moving over to Chishiya, placing the softest kiss on his cheek too.

“You guys are working so hard.” you said, standing again, smoothing your hands along your thighs. “I’m proud of you.”

Chishiya didn’t respond, of course. He didn’t know how. But his mouth twitched like a glitch in a system, like something slipped through he didn’t authorize.

Kuina smiled, though. Real. Tired. “You’re the best.”

You shrugged, still too sweet, too warm for this room. “I just want to help. I don’t like seeing everyone so angry. It makes me feel like something’s coming. Something worse than all of this.”

“Something is coming.��� Chishiya murmured. “But maybe we can beat it to the punch.”

You tilted your head at him, stepping closer. “You’ll tell me, won’t you? When you know what it is?”

His eyes met yours. The room hummed. The screens flickered in front of him, pixel by pixel. “…Maybe.” Which, in Chishiya-speak, meant: yes, but I’m terrified of what you’ll think of me when you find out.

You didn’t push. You just nodded, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, already turning away again, already in motion. You made your way toward the mini fridge tucked in the corner, humming quietly as you knelt to open it.

Kuina’s head tilted slightly, gaze narrowing. Movement. Someone looking through stuff.

She straightened suddenly. “I’ll check it out.”

You turned toward her. “Want me to come—?”

“No.” she cut in gently, already halfway to the door. “You stay.”

And just like that, it was just you and Chishiya.

You looked at him. The light from the monitors cast soft shadows across his face. He looked usual, the fucker, but beautiful.

“Are you okay?” you asked softly. Like you always did. Because you were built for softness. For care.

His eyes flicked up to you, then away. “I’m fine.”

God. Classic.

You didn’t push it. You stepped a little closer. One of your hands moved—not quite touching him, but brushing along the desk near his hip. You leaned, ever so slightly, like heat melting wax.

He tilted his head at you. That ghost of a smirk playing at his lips, the one that said I always lie. You knew this. You like it anyway.

You gave him a look. That kind, knowing look that said, you’re not unbeatable, no matter how clever you are.

“You’re such a liar.” you said softly. “Even now. Even with me.”

He didn’t argue. But he was looking at you now, and that was more than he usually did. Really looking.

You were so close.

He hadn’t moved. But something in the air bent under the pressure of him wanting. He wanted. Wanted the softness of your voice, the way your hand hovered just shy of touching him, the small crease in your brow that said I care about you even if I don’t understand you. He wanted the light you carried like it could be his.

But this wasn’t a fairy tale. And he wasn’t the prince. He wasn’t even the villain. He was the monster under the prince’s bed, reading all his letters and stealing his crown.

And yet you were standing there. In front of him. Like he hadn’t manipulated a dozen people just to get to this room. To get to this moment. To keep you looking at him like this.

“You want to tell me what you’re thinking?” you asked, a whisper. You tilted your head just a little, and god help him, your hair fell over your shoulder like a silk curtain.

He said nothing.

Your hand reached up then, gently touching the edge of his jacket near his wrist. Just that, light. Barely there. Enough to feel the spark, the quiet static between two people who should not—should not—feel like this. Not here. Not now.

Chishiya’s eyes dragged over your face like he was trying to figure out if you were real. If this was some late-stage hallucination. If care this gentle could be something he was allowed to experience without a price.

“Don’t try to fix me.” he murmured finally.

You smiled. God, it was tragic. That smile.

“I’m not.” you whispered. “I just want you to feel like someone’s on your side.”

He could’ve said something cruel. He should have. Something to push you away. Something to remind you that he didn’t deserve this kind of closeness. But instead… he stayed silent. He just looked.

You took a deep breath, eyes flickering over him. “Can I get a kiss before everything gets fucked?”

He didn’t immediately answer. His gaze flickered to your lips, and for a moment, it almost felt like time stopped. His pupils were dilated.

You stepped closer, one small step. His breath caught in his throat, and the moment was there—hanging in the air between you. Then, before he could say anything else, you closed the distance. You tilted your head slightly, just enough to align with him, and then you kissed him.

It was soft at first. Gentle. Your lips brushed against his, slow. He didn’t move at first. Didn’t push. Didn’t pull away. He just stood there, leaning against the desk with his hips.

And then he kissed you back. It was real. His lips moved against yours with a steady force. The intensity, the fire, the ache that had been building between you two—it was all there now, in the way he kissed you, in the way you kissed him back.

His hands found your waist, pulling you closer. You could feel his fingers pressing into the skin of your sides, a touch that was more possessive than gentle, more urgent than kind. His mouth was warm and insistent, and every part of you seemed to melt into him, like you were giving yourself to him completely, willingly, without hesitation.

And yet… there was something wrong. Something off. But you didn’t care. You couldn’t care.

You kissed him harder, deepening it, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer, as though you wanted to drown in him. To forget the outside world, to forget what was coming.

His lips parted, just slightly, and it was enough for him to slide his tongue against yours. He was savoring every second of it, every inch of the kiss, every part of you that he could taste. His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel the hardness of him, poking against your legs.

It was messy now—the kiss. Wild. Frenzied, even. A part of you wanted to pull away, to stop, to remind yourself that this wasn’t the time. But the other part? The part that was craving him, that wanted him more than anything, was already too far gone. You didn’t care anymore.

You gasped into the kiss as his teeth grazed your bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth, tugging gently. His grip on your waist tightened, his fingers pressing into the fabric of your clothes, and you could feel his heart beating erratically under his chest.

You pushed up on your toes, one hand gripping the edge of his hoodie while the other settled against the nape of his neck. Chishiya exhaled a sound you’d never heard from him before—half a sigh, half a growl.

You tugged him down as he leaned into it, one of your hands tangled into his hair. The other was clutching at his jacket.

The table behind him creaked, once, then twice. Rocked slightly under your weight as Chishiya gripped the edge with one hand for balance.

“‘Shiya—” you tried, breathless, barely able to talk between kisses. Your words were blurred by the way his mouth wouldn’t leave yours, his lips chasing every syllable like a hunger he couldn’t shake. “We—ah—should…”

“Should what?” he murmured against your lips, not letting you finish. His voice was a low, velvet thing, thick with heat and sarcasm. “Be rational?”

You let out something between a breathy laugh and a desperate whimper. “I was gonna say breathe, actually.”

But then he was kissing you again, hard and unrelenting, and suddenly breathing was very optional.

His hands were everywhere and nowhere, ghosting over your hips, up your sides, along your back, as if he couldn’t decide whether to devour you or worship you. There was a neediness that didn’t belong to someone like Chishiya, someone who pretended he didn’t feel anything, let alone want.

The table creaked again.

As you moved away a bit, not breaking the kiss yet, he got up and changed your position. Now it was you half sitting on the table. His hands helped you up the rest of the way, and for a half-second he just stood there between your knees, looking at you like a problem he desperately wanted to solve.

You licked your lips and tried to speak again. “What if someone—”

“I’ll kill them.” he said, flat and dry, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You stared at him. He stared back.

And then his mouth was on yours again.

On the edge of the desk, knees slightly parted, feet barely brushing the floor. Chishiya stood between them, hands gripping your thighs.

Your fingers threaded into the hair at the base of his skull, and you swore you could feel his pulse in your palms. And he could feel a pulse in his dick, actually.

BANG.

The unmistakable crack of a gunshot echoed down the hallway.

You froze.

Chishiya didn’t.

He exhaled into your mouth, and kept kissing you. A little slower now. Lazier. Louder. His hands didn’t move. He just kept pressing against you like that wasn’t a gunshot. Like you hadn’t just flinched.

Another sharp sound followed—a loud yell. Niragi.

Of course.

You pulled back an inch, panting softly. “We should—fuck��Chishiya, we should go—”

“No.”

You gave a breathless laugh. “He’s probably shooting someone.”

“Good.” he muttered against your lips. “Maybe we’ll have fewer idiots in the way.”

“Seriously?”

You started to shift, started to move, but his hands tightened just slightly around your legs, holding you in place for one more moment. One more kiss. One more taste.

“You always run to him when he’s loud.” he said dryly, his mouth trailing along your jaw. “Like a dog whistle.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

He looked at you now, smug. Asshole. “Maybe if I started shooting strangers, you’d stay on my lap.”

You shoved his shoulder—not hard, but enough to break the tension. “You’re an asshole.”

You slid off the desk, hopping down, feet landing with a soft thud. You ignored how your knees trembled, how your mouth still tingled from him, how your skin buzzed with the imprint of his hands.

You smoothed your clothes out and glared at him. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m not looking at you like anything.”

He was. He so was.

“Watch the monitors, baby. Watch out for yourself.” you muttered, brushing past him.

You didn’t look back.

You stepped outside the security room. The halls were mostly empty now. Everyone either hiding, running, or already dead. The stench of adrenaline was in the air. Screams echoed, human and high-pitched. You could feel the panic crawling under your skin.

You shouldn’t be out here.

You knew that.

You hated that your feet moved on instinct. That your heart pounded not because you were scared of him—but because if he was hurt, you weren’t sure what you’d do.

And still, fear itched at the edges of your mind. Not fear of him hurting you—god, no—but of what he could do. What he would do to others. He didn’t even flinch at murder. He played with fire just to feel something. He kissed you like a man starving and then walked off like he could live without you.

You were scared of his unpredictability.

But never of him.

You rounded the corner—and there he was.

Niragi stood, smoke still curling from the barrel of the gun dangling from his fingers. He was grinning. Wild-eyed. Absolutely feral. There were two men crumpled a few feet away—one crawling, the other definitely not—and a trail of dark red painted across the floor.

He hadn’t noticed you yet.

He looked happy. That kind of happy that people like him weren’t supposed to feel. Like something had finally clicked for him. His mouth was twisted in a smirk, his chest rising with each breath like the air was fueling him now.

And god help you, the moment he did see you—his entire face changed. The tension didn’t leave him, no—he was still Niragi, twitchy, blood-laced, and trigger-happy—but there was something different in his posture. His jaw ticked. He straightened. The gun dipped, still in his grip but no longer the star of the show.

Now, it was you.

You slowed your steps, heart thudding hard in your ribs.

“Niragi.” you breathed.

His eyes dragged over you like claws—your worried expression, the slight shake in your hands, the subtle way you folded your arms like maybe you were cold or maybe you just needed something to hold.

“Hey, baby.” he called, voice too calm, too bright. “You lost or something?”

You stopped a few feet from him. You weren’t crying. But you could’ve.

“I was looking for you.” you admitted, voice quiet.

His hand came up, not to hurt—but to touch. Fingers brushed your jaw, the back of his knuckles warm, still smelling faintly like gunpowder and sweat and heat.

“I was scared.” you murmured, explaining.

He tilted his head, still watching you. “Of what?”

You swallowed. “Not you.”

And that did something to him.

Oh, he smiled. Not the sharp, cruel smirk. No, this one was different. Softened. Still wild, but quieter. Maybe even… fond.

“Come on.” he said, softer this time, nudging your arm with his fingers. “Don’t just stand there lookin’ pretty.”

His grin had changed again—less teeth, more charm. A cruel thing coated in sugar.

Your feet didn’t move. You looked around—at the bodies, the scattered, panicked people who still hadn’t made it.

“Niragi.” you whispered. “They’re still shooting.”

“Yeah.” he said, a hum hidden under the word. “They are. That’s the point.”

You stepped back instinctively. Your eyes searched his face, trying to read between the lines, trying to figure out if he wanted to get shot. If that was part of the thrill for him. He didn’t look scared. Not even a little.

In fact, Niragi looked better than you’d seen him in days. Lighter. Buzzing. Glowing with something other than hatred. It scared the shit out of you.

“Where are you going?” you asked carefully.

He shrugged. “Nowhere you need to worry about. But I don’t want you out here by yourself. Come with me.”

There was something so gently commanding about it. The warmth of it lingered in your chest, right there beside the ice-cold truth that he’d probably stepped over someone’s dead body to get here.

You folded your arms, trying to protect yourself from… you weren’t sure. The bullets? The affection?

“You can’t protect me from everything, you know.”

“Bet?” he said immediately, flashing you a look so cocky it almost made you forget where you were.

“I’m serious.” you said.

“So am I.” Niragi replied. Then his voice dropped. “You think I’d let anything touch you?”

Your stomach twisted. God, he meant it.

“You don’t get it.” you whispered, gaze flicking to the noise behind him. “It’s not about me getting shot—what if you get hurt?”

He blinked. Once. Like he didn’t even consider that a possibility worth entertaining.

“I don’t care.” he said plainly. “I’m not leaving you here.” he added. “You wanna go somewhere safe, we go now. Or I’ll carry your sweet little ass there myself.”

God.

You hated how it worked. How his voice got low like that and made your stomach do flips, how his eyes never left your face even with gunshots going off nearby.

You sighed. Shoulders sinking. Not in defeat, but in acceptance. Like your body finally gave up pretending you were ever going to be immune to him.

“Okay.” you murmured.

He reached out, took your hand, and you let him. Because for all the danger, for all the madness and blood still drying on his shirt—you believed him. Maybe it made you stupid. But with your fingers locked in his, and his thumb rubbing over your knuckles like he actually gave a fuck, you weren’t scared anymore.

You were his.

And Niragi was thriving on it.

But the screaming didn’t stop. It echoed down the halls.

You walked beside him, hand still laced in his. The crack of a gunshot didn’t even make you flinch anymore. You were too tired. Too used to it.

“Hey.” you murmured, keeping your voice low, soft, careful not to rattle his fragile good mood. “Arisu… do you know where he is?”

Niragi didn’t even glance at you. Just kept walking, gun in other hand, his side bitch at this point, a smug little tilt on his lips. “Yeah. South hall. Tied up like a fuckin’ birthday gift.”

Your heart sank. You nodded slowly, not reacting beyond that. You couldn’t afford to. Not with his fingers still twitching at his side like he was half a thought away from raising his rifle again.

“He’s not the witch then, huh?” you asked gently. It wasn’t a real question.

Niragi’s eyes flicked to yours, too sharp. “He’s something. Doesn’t really matter what.”

You didn’t say anything else. Just walked beside him in silence, forcing your body to relax. The therapist part of you kicked in on instinct. You had to de-escalate. You had to keep him soft. Not for your sake.

For everyone’s.

“You’re tense.” you said after a moment, using the same voice you’d once used in sessions. Like you were talking someone off a ledge.

Niragi snorted. “I’m always tense.”

“Yeah, but…” you looked at him, just slightly, “…you don’t have to be with me.”

And god, it worked.

You felt it. The shift. His steps slowed. His grip on your hand loosened, just a little. His shoulders dropped a few degrees. Like your words were morphine in his bloodstream.

Inside, you were calculating. Timing. Every step.

You had to get to Arisu.

“I should go check on Kuina.” you said suddenly, voice still dipped in softness, your thumb brushing over his knuckles like you were doing him a favor. “She was a little freaked out earlier.”

Niragi didn’t respond right away. He stopped walking, turned fully toward you.

And for a second—just a second—you wondered if he knew. If he could smell it on you. The lie.

But then he clicked his tongue and said, “Tch. She can handle herself.”

“She can.” you agreed. “But I still want to see her.” You tilted your head, doe-eyed. “Please?”

He stared at you.

“Fine.” he said, stepping back. “Go play nurse.” He leaned in, close enough that his breath was in your ear again. “But if I find out you’re doing anything else—”

You kissed his cheek.

“Don’t be silly.” you whispered.

Then you turned, walking calmly. You didn’t run. But every step felt like it was cracking glass under your heels.

Because no, you didn’t tell him the truth.

You didn’t tell him you were going to help Arisu.

Because if you had, Niragi wouldn’t have let you walk away.

And god only knows what he would’ve done if you tried.

Then, Chishiya turned the corner. The worst moment to show up, really.

And Niragi noticed him immediately.

That shift was instant.

“She’s trying to get to Arisu.” Chishiya said, hands deep in his pockets, voice casual like this was a weather update.

You could’ve punched him.

Niragi blinked. Then slowly turned to look at you again, as if confirming whether it was true, whether you—his girl, his fucking angel—had really just fed him a lie like it was nothing.

Your stomach flipped.

You didn’t say anything.

You couldn’t.

Because Chishiya just threw you to the wolves. On purpose.

“Is that so?” Niragi said, voice dipped in that sickly-sweet tone he used right before hurting someone. “You were gonna go see that fucker?”

You turned to him, mouth parting to speak, but he stepped closer.

“You lied to me.” he said softly. “Looked me in the fuckin’ eyes.”

“Niragi—” you tried.

But he leaned in again, so close, too close, one hand lifting to your cheek like he still loved you. And that’s what made it worse—he did. God help you, he did.

“Why, baby?” he asked, almost cooing. “What’s so fuckin’ special about him, huh?”

Your lips parted, but your voice didn’t come. Because no matter what you said now, it’d be wrong. You were boxed in, sealed, trapped—Chishiya on one side, Niragi on the other, and you right in the middle like a bone between dogs.

You glanced at Chishiya, just a flicker, just a why.

But he was unreadable, leaning lazily against the wall like he didn’t just launch a live grenade into your whole relationship. His lips twitched, maybe, like he was having fun. Or maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was everything.

Maybe he wanted this.

Maybe this was his play.

Maybe Chishiya—who didn’t care about anyone, who never cared about anything—was jealous.

Niragi’s hand dropped from your cheek. He stepped back, slow, shaking his head with that crooked grin still hanging on his lips.

“Fuckin’ liar.” he murmured. “Sweet little liar. You look at me all soft, all pretty, and you lie through your fuckin’ teeth.”

“Niragi.” you said again, firmer now. “Please.”

That word—that tone—he faltered for half a second. Just a half.

But then Chishiya spoke again, like he couldn’t help himself. “She only lied to protect you.” he said, voice light. “Isn’t that what you want? To be protected?”

Oh, he was stirring the pot now.

You saw it.

And Niragi… Niragi did too.

His gaze flicked to Chishiya, and god, if looks could kill. His knuckles flexed on the handle of his rifle like he was trying to decide if Chishiya’s heart would look better spilled on the floor.

Your heart was racing. You stepped forward, hands raised slightly—don’t touch him, don’t provoke him, don’t make it worse.

“Niragi.” you said again, eyes locked onto his, soft, sweet, yours. “I just wanted to make sure no one was hurting him for no reason. That’s all. You know I love you.”

“Tell me the truth.” he said, quiet. “Did you want to save him? Or were you gonna let him out?”

You froze.

And that was enough of an answer.

He laughed, breathless, humorless. “Fucking knew it.”

Behind you, Chishiya exhaled like this was all very boring, like he was ready to move on.

You wanted to kill him.

You were going to kill him.

But god bless your poor, beautiful, barely-holding-it-together heart, you just stood there between them. Two men who could not, for the love of hell, just talk it out.

“Yeah.” Niragi spat. “Go on, tell me more about how you love me while you plan behind my back with him.”

He jerked a finger toward Chishiya, who blinked in the most unbothered, blank-faced way a man possibly could.

You opened your mouth to say something—maybe to calm him, maybe to throw yourself into a volcano—but Niragi didn’t let you. “‘No baby, I’m gonna check on Kuina, I swear,’ like I’m a fuckin’ idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot.” you said quietly.

“Then why the fuck are you treating me like one?” he snapped, and oops, there went your heart, dropping straight into your heels.

You glanced helplessly at Chishiya who actually looked a little bit like he might say something to help. But then he didn’t. Because of course he didn’t. He just tilted his head and watched.

“Are you happy now?” you asked him, softly, because even in this you were gentle. “Was that your plan?”

Chishiya’s mouth curved. Barely. “Didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

“Oh, wow.” you said.

“Yeah.” Niragi snapped. “Wow. And you—you were about to run off to help Arisu, while lover boy here waits behind like he’s got nothing to do with it. You think he’s not playing you? You think he didn’t know what that would do?”

“Maybe I’m just smarter than you.” Chishiya said calmly, which was the absolute worst possible thing he could’ve said.

Niragi’s whole body twitched like someone yanked a cord in his back. You actually reached out to physically touch his arm before he exploded, and oh, look at that, you were the leash.

Oh. Oh no. That made you look even cuter. Voice shaking, cheeks pink, eyes wide like you just wanted peace and therapy and maybe a slice of cake.

Niragi’s rage faltered just enough to be replaced with that stupid smug smile. “Should we hug it out, sweetheart? Kiss and make up?”

You blinked. “Are you drunk?”

“No.” he said. “But I’m pissed. And it’s so funny how he”—a finger jab at Chishiya—“never gets yelled at. Nah, he just stands there, looking pretty, getting kissed, while I’m the asshole.”

“Because you are the asshole.” you snapped, and silence slammed over the hallway.

Niragi blinked.

Chishiya snorted. Just a little.

You regretted it immediately.

“Wait—Niragi, I didn’t mean—”

“No, no.” he said, still smiling but now it was all ice. “Say it. Go on, baby. Let it out. You love me and I’m the asshole. Makes perfect fuckin’ sense.”

Your throat tightened.

Chishiya was still silent, but you could feel his eyes on your back. You didn’t dare turn. Not now. Not with Niragi still in front of you, looking like he might either kiss you or set the building on fire. Maybe both.

You stepped closer again, gently—therapist brain activated, like your survival depended on it. (Kinda did.)

“Niragi.” you said, soft, slow. “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re just—angry. And scared. And I get it, okay? I get it.”

He looked down at you. That smile didn’t come back.

And for the first time… he looked genuinely hurt.

You were going to cry. Not because you were scared. But because this—this wasn’t love. This was possession. And it was killing him.

And behind you… Chishiya didn’t say a word. He liked watching it happen.

“You lied to me.” Niragi said, with that low voice he got when he was about to be awful.

Then his finger pressed to your forehead. Lightly. Playfully, he pushed your head back. But there was heat behind it. “You gonna lie to him too?” he gestured with his chin toward Chishiya. “Or is it just me you like to play smart with?”

You felt your chest tighten. “I’m not playing anything.”

“You know what’s funny?” he muttered, pacing a step back. “You talk like you’re better than all this. But you love the game. You loved it when I came crawling in after games, all blood and bruises. You loved it when he gave you those cold-ass glances like you were his experiment. You wanna fix people so bad, sweetheart, but deep down? You just wanna be the most important part of their story.”

You stood frozen.

Niragi licked his lips. “He plays the long game. I just got sick of waiting. Pushing you was all it took.”

Your breath caught.

What?

You blinked, once. Twice. “What did you say?”

“Oh?” he tilted his head, mocking. “Oops. Guess that wasn’t part of the act.”

Chishiya didn’t say anything behind you. Of course he didn’t. That silence… confirmed it.

And just like that, the pieces started clicking into place. The subtle shifts. The way they both always knew where you were. The arguments. The obsession. The timing. Making you kill that man. Killing Akira.

The guy you killed didn’t need to get killed.

Akira didn’t do anything, he was innocent.

You were the game.

And you had finally figured out the rules.

Your body went still. Not in fear. Not this time. Not even in shock.

Niragi clicked his tongue. “Don’t look so sad, babe. We still like you. Hell, we love you. That’s why we made it fun.”

Your vision blurred.

“You didn’t need to play me like this. I would’ve given everything. Everything. Willingly.” Your voice broke there, and it was quiet. So quiet. “You already had me.”

Chishiya looked away.

“It wasn’t like that.” Niragi said, defensive now. Too fast. “You don’t get it.”

“No.” you said, stepping closer—closer, closer, until he actually leaned back a little. “I don’t. So explain it to me. Because right now? Right now it sounds like you and Chishiya had been manipulating me left and right.”

His jaw clenched.

And that silence? That god-awful silence? It said more than he ever could.

You swallowed. Your breath shook. Your heart didn’t. Not anymore.

“You’ve been playing me.” you said. “From the start.”

“We weren’t playing.” Niragi snapped, his voice rising. “You think this is some fucking game to me?”

“Yes! Yes, actually. Because that’s what you all do, right? That’s what this whole place is—fucking games.”

“Don’t talk to me like you’re not the same.” he hissed. “You were built for this. You manipulate everyone without even trying. You think you’re innocent?”

“No.” you said. “I think I’m better than you.”

That stopped him.

Cold.

Even Chishiya’s mouth twitched.

Niragi stared at you. Breathing hard now. Furious. Wounded.

God, you were so cute like this. Angry and righteous and trembling just enough to still make him want to cup your cheeks and kiss you until you forgot your own name.

But this wasn’t love anymore. This wasn’t sweet. This wasn’t fun.

This was real.

“You think you’re not part of this?” he sneered. “You think you didn’t like it? The way we looked at you? The way we made you feel like the center of everything? Don’t act like you didn’t love it.”

You didn’t answer.

You couldn’t.

Because for a second… maybe he was right. Maybe that was the worst part. You had loved it. The attention. The warmth. The feeling of being wanted in a world that otherwise tore people apart. You clung to them.

But not anymore.

No. Not now that you knew.

Your lips were trembling, your eyes glistened, and when you looked back at them—both of them—it was with something neither had seen before.

Disgust.

“You’re sick.” you spat.

And that voice—god, that voice. You weren’t screaming, not yet. That made it worse.

“You’re both sick.” you said again, louder this time. “And I—I let it happen.”

Neither of them spoke.

“You let me think it was mine, this connection.” you said, voice rising now. “That it was real. That I chose you. Not because I was being manipulated, but because I wanted you.” You wiped your face, almost violently. “You didn’t want love. You wanted control. I told you everything. Everything. My fears, my doubts, my hopes. I told you I trusted you. I kissed you. I chose you.”

You pointed at Chishiya.

“And you—you just wanted to see what I’d do next.”

Then you pointed at Niragi.

“And you just wanted to win.”

Your arms dropped to your sides, trembling.

“God, I danced for you. I made myself smaller, sweeter, quieter, so you’d stay soft. I told myself it was worth it, that you were just hurt and needed time. That you were the victim, and if I just waited long enough, I could save you. That I could make you better.”

Silence.

“I hated myself for how far I let you take me.” you whispered. “I hate myself for how much I wanted your approval.”

Chishiya’s jaw tensed. He didn’t move. His face was blank, but something in his posture betrayed the way your words hit.

Niragi’s smirk had faded entirely. He wasn’t laughing anymore.

“You still won’t say anything.” you said. “Still won’t apologize. Because this was never about me, was it? It was about who could keep me twisted around their finger the longest.”

Still—silence.

“You both lost.”

And for the first time, they looked like they actually might believe it.

You were crying, yeah. You looked like ruin. A walking heartbreak. But even in that moment—or maybe especially in that moment—you were the most powerful person. And they knew it. You stood there, chest rising and falling, eyes burning, your throat raw from screaming and from holding back even more. You could still hear your heart pounding in your ears—not out of fear now, but fury.

“You’re both fucking sick in the head.” you cried. “I don’t care how broken you are. I don’t. Because what you’ve done to me? That wasn’t pain. That was choice. You chose to lie. To twist me. To use me. I don’t even know who you are. I thought I did. I really did.”

You wiped your face with the back of your hand. Your voice dropped low. Personal. Final.

“I’m done.”

They didn’t speak. Maybe they couldn’t. Maybe they knew there was nothing left to say.

“Stay away from me.” you whispered. “You hear me? Stay away from me. Both of you.”

You took a step back.

“I hate you.”

One more step.

“I hate you.”

They didn’t follow.

They didn’t move.

You turned.

And walked away.

You didn’t look back. You couldn’t.

Because if you did, you might see the way Niragi’s jaw had clenched, pain barely disguised beneath anger. You might see the way Chishiya had finally, finally looked human—jaw slack, throat tight, hands curled at his sides like maybe, just maybe, he’d made a mistake.

But you didn’t look back.

Because it didn’t matter.

You were done.

And for the first time, they had no control over that.

The silence was deafening once you were gone.

The distant witch hunt carried on—gunshots, screaming. But none of it reached them, not really. Not past the ringing in their ears, not past the heat that still lingered from your voice, your fury.

Niragi stared after you, unmoving. His jaw was set so tight it looked like it might snap. His fingers twitched at his side, like they didn’t know what to do now without you to touch. Without your skin to press against. Without your breath to feel on his neck.

You hated him.

You actually hated him.

He could barely breathe through it. It wasn’t fair. He’d told himself this would never happen. Now you were done. Because of him. Because of them.

Chishiya hadn’t moved either. Still standing there, still trying to read the air as if there was anything left to analyze. As if his world hadn’t just been blown open.

You hated him.

He didn’t know what emotion that was building in his chest. Guilt? Regret? It felt like a hand around his throat—slow, tightening. His mind scrambled to rationalize it, like always. But no logic could buffer the truth that you saw through him, finally. That you saw what he was.

Not someone who protected you.

Not someone who stood up.

Not someone you could trust.

A traitor. A coward. Just another selfish man playing with your heart.

And that’s when Niragi moved.

It was quick—not a shove, not a full hit, but he bumped into Chishiya’s shoulder as he passed by. Bone against bone. Hard. Mean. Personal. A snarl in motion.

Chishiya staggered slightly, but didn’t retaliate. Didn’t even flinch.

They didn’t exchange a single word.

Niragi’s face was full of emotions. Panic. Rage. Grief he couldn’t name without it breaking him apart.

And behind Chishiya’s still, cold stare was something worse. Something he wasn’t used to feeling.

Regret.

~

You ran like your life depended on it. Not because someone would shoot you (no, no one would ever pull a gun on you), but because if you didn’t move, if you stopped to feel what they’d done, you might collapse. And this wasn’t the place to fall apart. Not tonight.

The halls of the Beach blurred past in smears of firelight and panic. People screaming, people chasing, that awful metal tang of blood curling into the air. Your feet slapped against the floor, echoing in the mess, but you kept going.

Until—

“Usagi.” you gasped, stumbling to a stop, hand bracing against the wall, heart pounding in your throat.

She spun, defensive. So did the others. A random girl and, thank god, there was Tatta. His eyes widened when he saw you.

“Wait, wait—” Tatta said. “She’s cool. I know her.”

“‘Cool’?” Usagi snapped, eyes cutting. “She’s with them. With Chishiya, with Niragi. You think that makes her ‘cool’?”

“I’m not with anyone anymore.” you said quickly, voice cracking. “Not after what they did. I just want to find Arisu.”

That got Usagi’s full attention. Her jaw clenched, sharp and suspicious. “What do you mean?”

You swallowed hard. God, you were still out of breath. Still trembling. “I just saw Niragi. He said something about the south hall—that Arisu’s in one of the rooms. Tied up.”

“And you’re telling me this now because—?”

“Because I didn’t know!” you said, louder than you meant to. “Because I’ve been used, and lied to, and manipulated into believing I was safe with them—and now I know better, okay? I know better. I’m not here for them. I’m here because I want to help. I need to help.”

Silence.

The girl looked at Usagi, unsure. Tatta glanced between you all, fingers twitching. Your pulse was a drumline in your ears. Every second wasted felt like another second Arisu might be bleeding out somewhere.

Usagi’s face didn’t soften. Not even slightly.

“I don’t expect you to trust me. But I expect you to believe that I know what it’s like to be used. That I know what it’s like to think someone’s on your side when really they’re only protecting their power. That’s what he did to me. What they both did.”

Her mouth twitched, just slightly.

“And now I’m trying to undo it.” you added, voice shaking again. “Please.”

Screams distant and near.

Usagi didn’t blink. Didn’t move. But then, after one long, breathless second, she nodded. Barely. “Show me the hall.” she said.

And just like that, you were moving again. Tatta was beside you in a heartbeat. Usagi and the girl right behind.

Maybe this was how you fixed it.

Or maybe this was just another mistake waiting to happen.

Either way, you were going to find Arisu.

You had to.

The gunfire was closer now—so close. Every shot felt like a countdown. Your body ran on instinct, not clarity. It knew to flee before your thoughts even formed the reasons.

You rounded a corner too fast, skidded—and suddenly Tatta’s arm caught you. Then yours caught his. A split second, two idiots grabbing at each other, fumbling to stay upright.

Then—without even speaking—your hands locked together. Tight. Like kids at a crosswalk.

Tatta was sweating, eyes darting everywhere, breathing like he was going to throw up. “This is bad.” he mumbled. “This is so bad. We’re gonna get shot. We’re gonna get shot. This is so bad—”

“Tatta.” you said between gasps, yanking him with you down the corridor, “I know.”

And he still ran with you. His palm was clammy and shaking in yours, but he never let go.

There was nothing brave about Tatta. Nothing hard. You felt it through your grip, how badly he wanted to disappear, how badly he wished he were someone else. Someone less pathetic.

And god, did you love him for it.

Tatta had never tried to control you. He never wanted anything from you but kindness. He was just real.

Usagi and the other girl were behind you both. They looked like soldiers. You looked like ghosts. You couldn’t tell if that was an upgrade or a downgrade.

“We need to keep quiet.” Usagi hissed. “You’re making too much noise—”

“I am the noise.” you bit back, breathless but sharp. “They love me. Everyone does. We’re okay.”

Usagi shot you a sideways look—part disbelief, part something else. “And you still came to help Arisu?”

“I told you.” you said, voice low. “I’m done.”

That shut her up. For now.

The girl next to her gave you a weird little smile. Pity, maybe. Or confusion. Or respect. You couldn’t tell anymore.

Tatta squeezed your hand again like a nervous tic. You looked down at your intertwined fingers.

“What?” you asked gently.

He gave you this pitiful, honest little smile. “I’m not built for this.”

You smiled back. “Me neither.”

And your heart… oh, your heart.

It felt like a cracked mirror. Every time you moved it fractured more. You were still full of love—stupid, stubborn, irrational love—even for the people who hurt you most. You weren’t sure who you hated more right now: Chishiya for cutting you open, or Niragi for pretending his violence was protection.

But you knew who you weren’t mad at.

Tatta.

Arisu.

You hoped like hell they made it out of this place. Even if you didn’t.

“Left.” you barked suddenly, dragging the group down another hallway.

“You trust Niragi now?” Usagi asked, still on edge.

“No. But I trust that he wanted to impress me. So yeah, if he said it, I believe it.”

No one argued with that.

Because it was true. And because you were leading the way now.

You weren’t his girl anymore. You weren’t anyone’s.

God, you hoped you weren’t too late.

The smoke was getting thicker now. Somewhere, behind the walls or beneath the floors, the resort was burning.

Of course it was. Of course the Beach had to go down like this.

You ran across the floors of the hallway, feet slipping in someone else’s blood. Tatta nearly dragged you down with him, but you both caught yourselves.

“Shit.” he whispered, eyes wide. “shit.”

Usagi stopped dead ahead of you. She was listening. Head tilted just slightly, body stock still like an animal sensing danger in the wind. Then, she ran to a door and started listening. Nothing. Ran to another. Nothing. Ran to another—it looked like nothing—just a plain white door at the far end of the hallway, no markings. You’d passed five identical ones already. She must have heard something inside.

You didn’t question her. You just ran for it.

When you reached it, you threw yourself at the knob, rattling it. Locked.

“Fuck, okay.” you muttered, dropping to your knees. “Come on, come on…”

You dug your nails into the tiny slit of the keyhole, trying to pry something loose. Useless. Your fingers were shaking too hard to be any good anyway.

Behind you, gunfire.

They weren’t aimed. They were flooded. The hallway lit up with flashes of white and gold.

Usagi didn’t think—she threw herself into the closest room, the two guys right behind her. The girl and Tatta followed instantly.

You stayed.

You dropped lower to the ground, crouched and half-hidden, still scrambling with the lock. Your heart was in your throat, your knees raw from the floor, your breaths too fast to count.

“No, no—come on—” you whimpered under your breath.

You had to get him out. You had to.

Arisu didn’t deserve this. Not like this.

And even with the shots echoing off the walls, even with your ears ringing, even with your eyes stinging from the smoke, you stayed there like a madwoman. Fingers bloodying themselves against a lock you didn’t know how to open.

Your hair clung to your face, wet with sweat and fear.

Someone inside that room was alive. You knew it.

Where the fuck were you? Who were you now?

A girlfriend? No.

A pawn? Not anymore.

Just… you.

And right now, that meant trying. Even if it was hopeless. Even if you died here on your knees with the hallway collapsing in fire around you.

More gunfire. Then a scream. Was that Tatta? You didn’t turn. You kept digging at the lock. A crash of glass. You ducked instinctively, your breath caught in your throat, heart pounding like it wanted out of your chest. Another sound followed it—thuds, scuffling, something that might’ve been screaming but warped by the smoke and walls.

Then… quiet.

Not real quiet, not safe quiet—but the kind of hollow lull that comes after something brutal happens. The kind of quiet that feels wrong.

Your hands were still against the lock, fingers bloodied now, your nails cracked. Your knees had long since gone numb from the hard floor—but when you looked down, they were bleeding. Torn open from all the friction, red trailing down your shins.

You barely noticed.

You didn’t have the time to.

There was a sudden shuffle next to you. You turned around—

Tatta.

He stumbled out of the room Usagi had vanished into. His eyes were too wide, and he was pale. Not just scared-pale, but sick-pale. The short-haired girl was right behind him, limping slightly, unsure.

“Hey—!” Tatta called, rushing over.

You didn’t even look at him. You were staring at the doorknob like it was your nemesis. Like if you glared hard enough, it would melt off the frame. The girl bent down beside you, her breath hitching when she caught sight of your knees.

“What the hell happened—?”

“I’m fine.” you muttered. “We need to get it open.”

You tried the knob again, and this time—you didn’t know if it was adrenaline, if it was rage—the lock gave a crack, and the door burst inward with one hard push of your shoulder.

You stumbled a step, nearly collapsing into the room, but someone grabbed your arm—Tatta—keeping you upright.

Your eyes adjusted to the dimness inside.

Usagi was already there.

Arisu.

Tied up.

Just like Akira once was.

“Shit.” Tatta whispered behind you.

You just stood there in the doorway, looking down at him. Your heart cracked in a hundred directions. Not because you were close—you weren’t. You didn’t know Arisu like Usagi did. But you knew pain. And you knew this wasn’t right. Not for anyone.

Your body moved on its own.

You dropped to your knees again—a habit now, apparently—crawling across the floor to help Usagi. She was already ripping at the rope, her hands clumsy with how fast she was moving. You reached to help, tugging the restraints down from his chest and arms, your fingers slipping in sweat and dried blood.

“Arisu.” Usagi was whispering over and over. “Arisu. It’s okay, I’m here. We’re here.”

His mouth was moving. Dry. Croaking nothing sounds, trying to form words.

You got the last loop undone, and the rope fell away. Usagi tore the tape from his face—gently, carefully—and he flinched but didn’t cry out.

His eyes blinked open.

Blurry. Darting.

And then they found her.

Found you.

And fuck, that expression—you had to look away. Because no one should ever look that relieved just to be seen alive.

You stayed crouched there while Usagi pulled him upright. You didn’t say a word. Your throat had closed up.

You didn’t cry, not yet—but your fingers were trembling.

You would never forget how he looked.

~

The Beach was on fire—literally, and metaphorically. Flames licking the halls, smoke crawling. Everyone had lost the plot. Guns were going off with no real target, blood smeared the walls, and fear wasn’t a mood anymore—it was the air itself.

The Beach had collapsed under its own weight—and now, at the center of it all, stood Arisu.

Bruised, battered, face still marked from being bound and tortured, Arisu stood in the lobby, defiant.

Across from him, was Aguni.

The man’s eyes were hollowed out with grief, trauma, and something worse—certainty.

You were in the crowd.

You, of course, always where it mattered most.

From the balcony above, Chishiya stood alone. It was like peering into a theater. His eyes scanned the chaos, until they landed on you.

There.

Not screaming. Not running. Just there, like you had no idea how breakable you were.

You were holding Tatta’s hand—that little coward, bless his quivering soul.

To Chishiya, you were something unbearably solid in a world where everything else collapsed.

You stood out in the crowd not because of your looks—though he could’ve made a thesis on how those fucking shorts fit you—but because of your stillness. He saw the way your fingers were wrapped around Tatta’s, panicked. He noticed your posture—spine straight despite the smoke, the gunfire, the weight of every damn lie you’d been fed the past few days.

You hadn’t looked up once.

Did you know he was watching?

No.

You didn’t.

Which was somehow worse.

Because if you did—maybe you wouldn’t have looked like that. Maybe you would’ve shifted, given him something to hold on to. A glance. A nod. A flash of that mouth that never shut the fuck up unless it mattered.

But no.

You were locked in.

Focused on Arisu.

And it shouldn’t have bothered him. Shouldn’t have made something hot and curdled twist up inside his gut.

But it did.

Because Chishiya knew things now.

He knew how it felt to kiss that mouth. Knew the taste of your stubbornness, the press of your body on his, the sound you made when you tried to speak in the middle of being kissed senseless. He knew your tells. Your smiles. Your truth.

He also knew what he did.

What he and Niragi both did.

He didn’t know why it made his throat tight. He didn’t do feelings. Not like this. But this? This was you, in the middle of the wreckage, and Chishiya couldn’t breathe right for a moment.

Because he’d never seen something so soft hold out so long.

He’d never been this soft.

And maybe that’s why he hated it.

Maybe that’s why he hated himself.

Because no matter how he looked at it—through gunfire, through smoke, through all the rotten parts of his own psyche—you were still there.

Still whole.

And still not his.

Not really.

Not anymore.

Aguni hit Arisu.

You squeezed Tatta’s hand a little tighter and took half a step forward. Always that same stubborn hope in your eyes.

And above it all, Chishiya watched.

And oh, wasn’t it pathetic?

Wasn’t it hilarious, how this allegedly genius man—this detached, morally grayscale asshole—was standing up there with his jaw just the slightest bit clenched, like your pain had any right to twist something in his precious, clinical little chest?

Like he wasn’t the one who’d helped make the game that broke you.

Like he didn’t spend the past twenty-four hours playing tug-of-war with your trust, your heart, your sanity.

Like he didn’t deserve every single second of watching you hold another man’s hand while you wanted to keep someone else alive.

God, you were beautiful.

Even now. Especially now.

Tired and trembling and worn down to the bone, blood on your legs, your hair loose and messy, face streaked with smoke and tears you were too proud to let fall.

And not his anymore.

That was the best part, wasn’t it?

You weren’t looking at him. You hadn’t looked up once. Not when the crowd gasped, not when Arisu dropped to the ground.

You didn’t look at him like you used to. Like he was the smartest man in the room. Like he was your anchor.

And Chishiya? Oh, he deserved that. He totally deserved to stand up there, silent and smart and utterly alone, while you put your broken little heart on the line for someone else.

Still. That part of him, the part that was far too human for his own liking, couldn’t shut the fuck up. Couldn’t stop cataloging your every breath, the way your chest rose with shaky control, the way your knees shook for half a second and you caught yourself on instinct.

He was supposed to outthink it all. That was his thing. Observe. Adapt. Use. Survive.

But now? Now he was just watching you slip through his fingers.

And you didn’t even have to say anything to destroy him.

You just had to stand there.

Alive.

Gorgeous.

Gone.

So yeah.

Aguni could punch Arisu all he wanted.

The real hit had already landed.

Right in Chishiya’s chest.

And wasn’t that just tragic?

Not for him, of course. No. He wasn’t a victim. He was a player. He deserved this.

But that didn’t make it any less brutal when he realized—

You were never going to look at him the same way again.

And that? That was worse than any bullet. Worse than any witch hunt. Worse than watching the Beach burn.

Because the game was still on, but Chishiya Shuntaro?

He’d already lost.

But what was this, even?

This thing between you and Chishiya.

This… feverish, shapeless half-romance that never got a name because neither of you were stupid enough to say it out loud. Because the second it had a label, it would become real, and the second it was real, it could die.

Well.

Too bad.

It died anyway.

Because you closed it.

You didn’t just walk away—you shut the fucking door and twisted the handle off and set the whole hallway on fire behind you. You said “done” with that voice of yours—low, teary, trembling, gorgeous—and meant it. You told them they were sick, manipulative. Told them you hated them. Told them to leave you alone.

And Chishiya? He let you go. Or pretended to. Which was worse. He’d told himself it was better that way. Better for you. Better to let you feel in control for once, to let you have something, after he and Niragi had twisted you around for their own ends. He’d convinced himself, in that cold-blooded place behind his ribs, that maybe that was the most love he was capable of. Letting go. But standing up here, now, watching you from above—he realized the truth:

He didn’t let go.

He lost.

He lost you.

He lost the smell of your skin. The sound of your laugh, the soft ones, the real ones, the ones you tried to hide. He lost that weird way you always wiggled around everywhere, how you offered sweetness. How your eyes got so wide when you were angry, when you were hurt, when someone needed saving.

He lost your kindness. Your mind. Your mercy.

You were the only soft thing left in this world and now he didn’t get to have you anymore.

And for what? His dumb little crush making him crazy?

Chishiya Shuntaro?

With a crush?

What, was he twelve?

What a fucking joke.

Because that wasn’t a crush. That wasn’t sweet little butterflies and schoolyard daydreams.

It was need.

Longing

He wanted your hands back on his neck, your lips pressed to the corner of his mouth. Wanted to be the one you whispered to in hallways, the one you made eye contact with across the crowd. He wanted to be inside every moment of your life, all of them, the happy ones and the brutal ones, the quiet ones, the loud ones. He wanted to rip every other person out of your orbit and fill it all with himself.

He wanted to own your next breath.

And you closed the door on him.

You were smart. Too smart. You figured it out. And when you figured it out? You didn’t cry pretty. You screamed. You fought. You hurt them.

God, he deserved it. He really did. But it still made him sick. Not because he regretted it. No. Never. He’d do it again. Twist you again. Play you again. He’d rather be the villain in your life than some footnote you forget. He’d rather have your hate than your indifference.

But right now—watching your shoulders shake in the crowd as Arisu stood in front of Aguni, watching your hand in Tatta’s of all people—he was still human enough to feel it.

That ache.

The disgusting, humiliating ache of a boy who ruined his own shot at love and now had to sit in it.

Alone.

Up here, above the world, where he always wanted to be.

Now all he could do was watch you turn away from him—again and again and again—and pretend it didn’t gut him every single time.

And still, the worst part?

He’d do it all again if it meant he could just touch your hand one more time.

Yeah.

Chishiya was fucked.

And he knew it.

And your knees were bleeding.

He always noticed the little things about you, didn’t he? Your knees were scraped raw, red running down your shins in trails that dried at the edges. Your hands too—one trembling, the other wrapped tight around Tatta’s like you were clinging to a life raft. The same hands that once ghosted over his neck, his jaw, his heart, now used just to hold on.

You were holding on.

And Chishiya wasn’t the one you were holding anymore.

Were you okay?

Were you okay, were you okay, were you okay?

He couldn’t fucking help it.

You looked too small.

Too breakable.

Too goddamn precious.

Did you even take a moment to rest?

Did you even eat?

Who was taking care of you?

Tatta? That coward? That little puppy who held your hand like he didn’t even know what to do with it? Was that the guy you trusted now?

Chishiya could feel the jealousy digging in under his skin.

And yet. All he could do was watch. Watch you stand there, knees bleeding, shoulders square, your fragile little body shoved into the center of a war—and wonder if this was what heartbreak felt like.

Because it wasn’t like the stories. It wasn’t loud or dramatic or cinematic. It was this. This cold, gnawing ache behind the ribs.

This helpless need to press a palm to your wounds and tell you you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay—even though he was one of the reasons you weren’t.

He should’ve gone to you.

He should’ve never let you go.

Down there, Arisu just revealed that Aguni was the one that killed Hatter.

Oh, you looked like someone had just shot you. You were his number two—or you would have been.

Chishiya hated that look on your face. He felt his stomach twist. It was rare, that sensation. He barely recognized it. But it wasn’t just guilt. It wasn’t even pity. It was grief. Grief for you. For what you looked like down there. For what was being stolen from you, over and over and over again by this place.

You deserved better. And he… well. He wasn’t “better.” He was the exact opposite. But god, he still wanted to save you. Hide you somewhere quiet. Get the blood off your knees.

Tatta had shoved you back. Chishiya’s chest tightened. He’d seen that. That move—the way Tatta had put his hands on you and shoved you away like you were just a bystander. To keep you out of it while he and Usagi launched themselves at Aguni. Hm.

First time Chishiya had felt anything in years—anything that wasn’t boredom, anyway—and this was what it amounted to. This? This heartbreak of watching you get pushed aside.

He almost smirked to himself. The cruel irony. You were right there, just out of reach. And yet, somehow, Chishiya had played his part, too, getting tangled in the mess of all of this. The first real feeling he’d had in god knows how long, and he had no idea what the hell to do with it.

You had it all wrong. You couldn’t save Arisu from the reality of this place. You couldn’t save yourself.

Chishiya’s lips pressed into a thin line. The feeling he had in his chest twisted. He was so fucking sick of this. A big mess of tangled lies. Everyone, including him, dancing to the beat of their own selfish needs and desires, no matter the cost.

Oh, right. The roof.

Chishiya’s lip twitched at the memory.

He lit the fucker on fire.

The moment Niragi’s frame caught flame, that screech—god, Chishiya had never heard anything like it. Not even in the games. It was so guttural, so real. God, it felt good. But not good enough. Setting Niragi on fire? Satisfying. Watching you hold someone else’s hand in the aftermath? Devastating.

It didn’t get you back. Nothing would.

You were already gone. He had burned Niragi, but you were the one who burned him. Quietly, thoroughly, permanently.

Oh, boo-fucking-hoo.

Poor Chishiya. Tragic little genius. If someone really wanted to be charitable—really charitable—they could call him a man broken by love.

Seriously, it was getting embarrassing. He had survived every game. Outsmarted some of the most dangerous lunatics. He was a legend in the making. And now he was watching. Just watching.

Did someone have a sniper rifle?

A pipe? A brick?

Anyone? Please?

Because honest to god, if someone just shot him right now—clean shot, forehead, boom—he’d absolutely whisper a little thank you with his final breath.

Because watching you—the girl who once cupped his face like it mattered, who kissed him with the kind of softness he didn’t know people like him were allowed to receive—watching you stand there not looking up, not thinking of him, not being his anymore?

Yeah. Unbearable.

He deserved it, sure. He knew that. This was the price of the game he played. It all came with consequences.

But no one ever told him how bad it would actually hurt.

Like physically hurt. Chest pressure. Shortness of breath. He kept reaching up to tug at the collar of his hoodie like it was choking him.

But no. Life wasn’t that merciful.

Instead, he had to stay up here and watch. Chishiya’s stomach folded into itself. He couldn’t even bring himself to hate Tatta. Because Tatta was a coward, sure, but he was harmless. Safe. Probably cried when people stepped on snails.

Tatta was everything Chishiya wasn’t. Which, apparently, made him everything you wanted now.

Because feelings? Chishiya Shuntaro had them.

Unfortunately, they were the type you couldn’t surgically remove. Believe him—he would’ve tried.

If there was a god, they’d drop a piano on his head. Or a vending machine. Something swift, something ironic.

But no.

Chishiya had to keep living.

And worse—he had to keep feeling.

❤︎︎ @lizntstoptalking @cherryheairt @fiction-fantasy-folks @monkey4lifer @psychicyouthfox @so-dramatic1 @mypsychoticlove @unhinged-sorcerer @rattymess @mocchii-writes @adanfore @scarlet703 @fluentgoddess @maxinehufflepuffprincess @onyxmango @bluerthanvelvet444 @risingofjupiter @enhasrii @potato-vagina @cherryyserenade @l5byrinth @soaplickerrr @sillyenemyarcade @miellette @sk1ndx0 @stopcallingmeimovedon

[justmeinadaze]

Don't Be So Hard Part 2 (Steddie X Plus Size Reader)

Warnings: Older Steddie (Early 30s), Dom Coach Steve Harrington/ Dom Professor Eddie Munson/ Sub (Early 20s) Plus Size Fem Y/N

SMUT! Jealousy fueled smut, mean!Steddie, punishment (spanking), degrading (whore, slut, dumb), hair pulling, semi public (in Eddie's office on campus), use of the stop light system (Yellow mentioned), aftercare of course.

ANGST! Angsty, angsty, angst (because I'm me), Steddie gets jealous when reader starts dating a boy she acts with on stage even in the beginning they push her away to "protect her". They do catch her with him after they both have particular bad day/evening.

Mentions of Chrissy and their scars again. Mentions of what happened with reader and the football player in the last chapter (brief).

Word Count: 4349

Chapter 1 Here

As your alarm went off that following Monday, you stayed completely frozen in bed. That Sunday morning prior, you awoke to an empty house and a note telling you that your car was outside and your things were by the door whenever you were ready to leave. 

You were unsure of what to do. Do you leave your number? Do you wait and confront them? Did they just want this to be a one-time thing? Were you supposed to pretend nothing happened? 

Now with the new week starting, you had brand new concerns like if Martin would be in class and what would he even say or do? 

Braving the outside world, you got dressed and headed for your first class. As you stepped inside, you were thankful Martin wasn’t there but your bliss was short lived when a hand lightly but firmly ushered you forward. 

“Find a seat Miss Y/L/N.”, Eddie commands without so much as a cursory glance your way as he heads towards his desk. As the class continues, he avoids your eyes, choosing to look anywhere else as he speaks making you feel extremely self-conscious as you hug your arms around your body. 

“Alright, you guys are free. Get out of here. Miss Y/L/N, can you stay behind please?”

“Yeah, of course.”

While you wait for the class to leave, your eyes take in his slightly agitated frame. His hair was a bit more messy than normal and his clothes were not as put together as before. The aroma of cigarettes was heavier around him and even as you slowly walked towards his desk at the front of the room, he still didn’t look your way. 

“D-D-Did I do something wrong?”

“Uh, no, Y/N; Steve and I did.” When his beautiful hues finally met yours, they seemed so hollow as if he hadn’t slept. “What happened was a mistake and can’t…WON’T…happen again. To avoid any further confusion, I would recommend you get a transfer to another literature class or drop my class entirely. I’d be more than happy to sign a form for you.”

Your eyes widen as he speaks completely thrown off guard. You could understand if they wanted it to be a one-time thing but to say it was a mistake…that hurt.

“I don’t want to drop or transfer.”, you whisper. 

“Yeah, well, this isn’t just about you, sweetheart.”, he responded curtly making you angry.

“Fuck you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Fuck you. If you didn’t want me you should have just took me back home.”

“Forgive us for considering your feelings and shit. We wanted to make sure you were ok.”

“By fucking me like a whore!”

“Lower…your…voice.”, Eddie growled as he started to step around his desk, pausing when you backed away.

“I didn’t think it was a mistake.”, you mumble.

The professor chuckled condescendingly as he folded his arms over his chest. 

“I wouldn’t expect you to, little girl, but like I said, WE fucked up. Go back to your pathetic little life and forget about us.”

“Did you give Chrissy Cunningham the same option?”, you sass under your breath, immediately regretting your words when his chocolate irises shift your way and you see the pain behind them. 

“HEY!”

You jump at Steve’s booming voice as he enters the classroom and promptly hang your head feeling like a small child getting caught saying a bad word. His presence towers heavily over you as he places himself just inches in front of your frame. 

“That’s your professor and MY partner. You will show him respect.”

Blinking away tears, you find the courage to meet his equally annoyed gaze.

“Or what? You’ll punish me? I’m a mistake according to your partner!”

Grabbing your arm tightly, the coach starts shoving you towards Eddie’s office in the back corner with the professor himself slamming it closed behind him. 

“Lower your goddamn voice.” Sighing, he turned to his boyfriend. “Did you tell her?”

“I emphasized that we made a mistake but she doesn’t seem to agree.”

“Why are you doing this? Did you…I thought…was I that bad?”, you ask in a small voice that shatters their hearts to pieces and falters their hardened demeanors. 

“No, Y/N—”

“I don’t understand then. I thought you were attracted me.”

“We were…are…—”

“Were you just using me? Is that why you two were gone when I woke up?”

“STOP INTERRUPTING ME! Jesus Christ! I’m trying to fucking tell you something here! You did NOTHINGwrong. Do you hear me? Nothing. Eddie was right. You’re a twenty something student who’s so fucking beautiful she deserves to be seen and live her fucking life! We’ve been hiding for 10 years, Y/N, I assure you it’s no picnic.”

“Sweetheart, we liked being with you and not just the sex the part. It was nice to feel needed for once… but like he said…It’s not just because you’re a student. There’s so much more to it. You deserve better.”

Wiping your eyes, you nod as you stand up straighter. 

“You could have just said that… Um, I’m sorry for what I said to you, Mr. Munson and giving you both attitude. I-I-I would like to stay in the class please. I promise I won’t…make trouble.”

Eddie nods as you flash them a small smile and quickly run out the door to collect your things. 

#############

The next month went by with little to note as you floated through your days. Eddie barely looked your way during class and when you ran on the track Steve was never there. The one time you did see him was as Martin’s father was stomping out of the locker room and you got a glimpse of the coach fuming in his office.

Focusing on your production, you continued to rehearse your lines repeatedly till you had them down to a T but when it came to your scenes with the boy playing Rocky you found yourself slightly nervous and it wasn’t just because he was gorgeous to look at. 

Every time he glanced your way during any scene he was in made you blush. One day, you were doing a dress rehearsal with him wearing only gold boxers and you with your bra, panties, and a lab coat. When he walked out your eyes immediately ran over his delicious looking abs before averting your eyes so you didn’t get caught. 

“Brad. Janet. What do you think of my creation?” 

“Oh, well, I don’t like a man with too much muscle.”

The boy beamed in your direction before ducking his head like he was supposed to. As soon as you finished, you expected him to disappear to quickly put on some clothes but he lingered behind with you on stage.

“You’re really good at all this.”, he grins as he gestures around the auditorium.

“Oh, um, thank you. I haven’t seen you in any of my classes or any other productions. Are you a theater kid or did you just transfer?”

“Naw, the school said I had to have some kind of arts credit and I thought this would be fun. Mrs. Lilah comes to the arcade that I work at sometimes so I know she’s a cool, easy-going lady…kind of like you…but not as pretty.”

You giggle as you push some hair behind your ear and he smiles. 

“Can I, um, may I have your number?”

After giving it to him, his smile grows as he extends his hand out to you. 

“I’m Theodore but my friend’s call me Theo.”

“Y/N.” 

As your hand connects with his, he playfully bows and kisses the back of it. 

“I’ll talk to you later.”

You grin as you watch him run off stage but it’s wiped clean off your face when you turn to grab some of your things, coming face to face with Eddie who had been watching your interaction from one of the rows in the auditorium while your teacher was talking to him. 

*** 

Throughout the week, Eddie began appearing at all the rehearsals and the last few times he brought Steve with him. You ignored them as best you could, doing your scenes and listening to what your director was telling you. 

It wasn’t until the evening you had your scene with you ‘naked’ in the container with Theo that they said a word. 

“Hey Liliah! Are you sure this play is a good idea? I mean having them getting caught being intimate and then you have two students that close together in front of an audience…like that.”, Eddie critiqued as you pretend to not be listening.

“Huh. Out of all the people in Hawkins I thought you would condone this more. Its expression and these students are consenting adults. Y/N! Theo! Do you two feel uncomfortable about the scene right now?”

“No ma’am.”, the boy responds with zero hesitation. 

“No ma’am. I feel extremely comfortable and safe next to Theo here.”, you coo as you lean your head on his shoulder and he in turn wraps his arm around you.

As the night came to a close and you gathered your things behind the curtain, you were surprised to hear both men’s voices as they continued to sit in the auditorium.

“I fucking hate this, I hope you know that.”

“I know but we both agreed this was best.”, Steve exhaled heavily. 

“Fuck, every time his hands touch her I just wanna—“, Eddie growls as his partner chuckles.

“Yeah and every time she allows it, I wish I could just throw her over my knee. You know she’s getting off on it though; making us jealous.”

“Well, it’s working because I want to fuck her so hard and make her scream my name repeatedly till she fucking remembers who she belongs to.”

A small groan leaves your lips at his words. You desperately wanted that to but they pushed you away. Theo seemed like a good man and if they insisted on not being with you there wasn’t much you could do. 

############

Sitting in the bleachers Friday night, you clung to Theo’s hand as you two watched the football game unfold. Since Martin was removed from the team, Steve had a new quarterback in play and everyone was talking about it. Every missed throw or tackle had him growing angrier as he paced back and forth fuming. 

People around you speculated what could have happened and parents condemned him for removing his star player from the team. If only they knew… Hell they’d probably take Martin’s side. Everyone in the town had a backwards way of thinking.

“Hey, are you alright?”, Theo asked, not realizing that you had squeezed his palm tighter. 

“Yeah, just, um…hearing people talk…”

“About what happened with Martin?”, he inquired with a low tone so no one would hear. “The game’s almost over. Do you want to go for a walk?”

He grins when you nod, leading you down the row and towards campus. 

“I’m sorry you went through that. Guy is a fucking dick.”

“Yeah, he is, but…”

“But nothing. Just because he’s king badass or whatever doesn’t mean he can hurt you like that. Have you heard anything yet from like the dean or anyone?”

“No, not yet. I haven’t even see Martin. I’m terrified what he’s going to do when we do run into each other.”

“I’ll protect you.”

“Oh, you will, huh?”, you smile as he flashes you his own.

“I will, babe. These abs just aren’t show!”, Theo chuckles. “So, um, are you like Janet? Are you not into guys with muscles?”

Biting your bottom lip, you blush as he grabs your arm to stop you two from walking down the hall. 

“Because I can get some flab if you want me to. I can gain like a sexy paunch and—”

You laugh before tilting up on your toes to tenderly kiss his lips. 

“I think you’re sexy just as you are.”

Theo’s hand slides behind your neck and brings your lips back to his, kissing you with much more passion as he walks you back into a classroom. Feeling something hard against your back, the boy doesn’t miss a beat as he lifts you onto the desk and you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you as he grinds his hips against yours. 

“I’m not…moving…too fast am I?”, he pants between kisses causing you to vigorously shake your head. “Good…your lips…taste really…really fucking good.”

“HEY!”

You both jump apart as Eddie and Steve angrily enter the classroom. 

“The fuck do you think this is?! A bedroom!?”, your professor shouts. “Sex and making out on campus is prohibited but it’s definitely forbidden on my fucking desk.”

Glancing around the room, you realize you were in his classroom.

Shit.

“I swear, Mr. Munson, we didn’t know this was your room?”

“So, that makes it better?”, Steve snaps sharply. “You disrespecting other people’s property by grinding on it?”

“No, sir.”

“Please Mr. Munson, Coach Harrington, this isn’t her fault. I brought her in here—”

“She doesn’t have a mind of her own? From what I saw she was a willing participant.”, Eddie cut him off. “Get out of my sight and be lucky we don’t tell the dean or Lilah about this.”

“Yes, sir, thank you.”

Taking your hand in his, Theo starts to lead you to the door before Steve grabs your bicep.

“No. Don’t want you both leaving together and ending up in another room on campus. You can wait a few minutes, Miss Y/L/N.”

As soon as the door shuts and your date leaves, the coach tugs you roughly towards the office before Eddie bangs the door behind him.

“I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t know—”

“Face the wall.”, the coach commanded, growling when you hesitate. “I said face the wall and place your hands against it.” 

Slowly, you do as he says, gasping when he roughly takes hold of your hips and brings them out more before lifting your skirt to expose your panty covered ass.

“I’m surprised she has panties on. Fucking little slut seemed so desperate for his cock.” Steve’s palm came down hard and you jerked forward at the feeling. “Don’t move! Keep your ass out.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Harrington.”

In quick succession, he spanked you a couple more times, his hand grabbing at your flesh before delivering another. Fingers aggressively yank down your underwear and he spanks you again. 

“Jesus, Ed, look at her. Fucking pussy is dripping. You’re so fucking needy aren’t you, little girl.” When you didn’t respond, he hit your behind much harder than before. “Answer me!”

“Yes…yes, sir, I’m a needy girl. Ahhhh…”, you whine as he hits you again.

Hearing him back away and shuffle around behind you causes you to turn your head but he immediately forces your face forward with his palm as he smushes your cheek into the wall. 

“Don’t fucking look at me. You want to be a whore? We can treat you like a whore, Y/N.”

Running his tip through your folds, he guides himself into your entrance and sets a brutal pace allowing you no time to adjust like they had before. Out of the corner of your eye, you see one of his hands fall on the other side of your head as his other spanks you before gripping your hips.

“Is this what you—mmph—what you fucking wanted, little girl? You think that little boy can fuck you better? Huh?”

“No—mmm—no, Mr. Harrington.”

“That’s fucking right.”, Steve grunts as he slows his rhythm but not his intensity as he slams his cock deep inside you.

“Oh…Oh my god.”

“Yeah, you little slut? That’s the spot. I know, baby. I know how to please desperate, needy things like you.”

“I…I don’t…understand…”, you whine.

“What? What doesn’t your dumb little brain understand? Why you’re being punished?”

“Yeeeesss. This is what you—fuck—what you wanted.”

Pulling out, he spun you around, hooking his arm under the back of your knee to lift your leg and slides his length back inside of you.

“This is what we wanted? For you to fuck some other guy on Eddie’s desk? To…to touch him on stage while you’re practically fucking naked?”

Your hands tug on his hair forcing him to meet your lust filled gaze.

“I-I wanted you two.”

Your mouth falls open in a silent moan as you cling to the base of the neck and cum hard around him. Steve’s head falls onto your shoulder as he pounds his cock harder into your cunt chasing his release before gripping your hair tightly in his fingers and pushing you to your knees. 

“Open!” You do what he says, moaning as he forces his dick into your mouth. “Look at me! Don’t take those eyes off me.” When your irises meet his honey ones, they flutter slightly as he thrusts his cock down your throat. “Th-That’s it, baby. I want this burned into that dumb little brain of yours. MMM! That way when you’re on your knees for him, you think of me.”

Steve grunts and his grip tightens as he spills down your throat. Your eyes never leave his as you swallow every drop he gives you. 

As soon as he steps back and out of the way, Eddie’s on you, lifting you to your feet and manhandling you to the couch against the wall of his office. Spreading your legs open wide, you groan loudly as he shoves his face into your pussy, open mouth kissing between your folds as his tongue flicks your clit.

“P-Please…Please, Mr. Munson.”

Your hands try to tangle in his hair but he promptly grabs your wrist and holds it against the sofa. Tilting back, he spits into your hole before maneuvering his cock out of his jeans and guiding it into your heat. 

“No, little girl. You don’t get to fucking touch me. Your hands have been all over your new boyfriend.”, he says with disgust as he rolls his hips hard making his length slam roughly into that spongy spot inside you. “Fuck, sweetheart. Have you fucked him yet?”

When you don’t answer, his palm spanks you hard. 

“No.”

“No what.”, he growls as he hits you again.

“N-No, sir.”

“Shame. I’d love to—mmph fuck—know what that little fucker says when he realizes you’re ruined.”, Eddie spits as he pumps into you a bit faster. “You begged us to, baby, remember? To split you in half a-and stretch you open. Fuck. Still so fucking tight for us but little prick like him…”

“Eddie…”

Leaning down to hover over you, the metalhead grips your throat tightly between his ringed fingers.

“You say it correctly, whore. You’re in MY office in MY classroom.”

“F-Fuck…I’m sorry, Mr. Munson…feels so…good..”

“I know, baby. I know it feels good. You know what didn’t? Watching you flirt and swoon over that asshole on stage. Watching him touch you and you not pull away. Didn’t take you long to move on from us. What did—mmm—we fucking expect. You’re meant to be a toy, Y/N. Just a fucking slut for men like us to use.”, he growls in anger, completely oblivious to the tears that had begun to fall from your eyes. 

“Yellow.” Your word comes out barely above a whisper; so small you’re surprised he heard it. Eddie lifted his head as his movements stopped, his eyes scanning your face as he blinks back his anger and worry replaces it. “I didn’t move on. I wanted you…I liked being with you. You pushed me away… Y-You said so many mean things after class…”

Your professor sighs as his forehead falls on yours.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so fucking sorry for hurting you. Can I make you feel good? Can you say it?”, he requests when all you do is nod. 

“Yes, sir, you can keep going.”

When he starts thrusting into you again, it’s much gentler than before. 

“We didn’t use you that night, Y/N. Fuck, you have no idea how much we still think about you.”

“We talk about you at night while we’re in bed.”, Steve adds in low, soft voice behind your head. “It almost always leads to us playing with each other as we talk about how tight you were or how much your whimpers made us hard.”

Your eyes flutter closed at their words as Eddie picks up his rhythm once again. 

“Shit. You feel so good. We-We don’t just talk about your body but we like how kind you are and so fucking smart, princess. I love reading your essays about the books I assign. You have this—oh my—this unique view of the world…”

“Why-Why did you push me away?”

Falling flat against you, he clings to you back as he rolls his hips and his cock pushes impossibly deep inside of you. 

“Because this is wrong, honey.”, Steve answers for him. “So fucking wrong but…fuck…watching you with that kid…”

“You’re ours, sweetheart. Fuck, baby, cum.” Grinding your waist, you thrust up to meet his movement till you feel your body tremble as the coil breaks. “Good girl, Y/N. Good girl.”

It doesn’t take long for Eddie to follow and his eyes squeeze shut as you feel him warm your insides. 

Nobody speaks as he pulls out of you and grabs your hand to help you sit up, petting your head as you wince slightly at the pain in your behind. Steve quickly comes between your legs and cleans you, tenderly kissing your knee when you whine at the soreness.

Both their heads hang when he comes back to take a seat beside you.

“D-Did you guys win?”, you ask, sighing when the coach shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Harrington.”

“Steve…” Your gaze shifts his way as he mumbles his name. “You can call me Steve when we aren’t out there or playing.”

“I’m sorry we made you uncomfortable, Y/N.”, Eddie exhales. “We didn’t mean to be so rough. We’re just…passionate people.”

“That’s an interesting way to say you were jealous.”, you tease as they smile. “It wasn’t the roughness. I like rough. It was the implication that…you used me solely to get off that night…After what you said to me in class, it just…hurt my feelings.”

“I understand. I’m sorry, baby.”

“We’re just trying to—”

“Protect me, I know. I just don’t understand from what. At first I thought it was because your faculty and I’m a student but then you said it was because I deserve to be seen… yet here we are… and I still feel you…pulling away. What aren’t you two telling me?”

“Did you just interrupt me again? Jesus Christ. IS it me? Am I just not as intimidating as him?”, Steve tries to joke and deflect.

“Does it involve what happened with Chrissy Cunningham?”

The metalhead grumbled as he exhaled, turning to face you with a newfound fire in his eyes. 

“We gave you rules that first night, remember? Don’t ask about our scars. Maybe that rule deserves some expansion. Don’t ask about what happened 10 years ago AT ALL. Not only do we not want to talk about it but we CAN’T talk about it. If that’s a fucking problem then we can fully end this thing now. No little games or what happened tonight. Hell, I’ll even tell the dean myself what I did so he can fire me.”

At this declaration, Steve growls and when you glance his way you’re surprised to see annoyance, not towards you but to his partner. 

“Ok, I understand, Eddie. I won’t ask any questions anymore but I need you to know…whatever happened I’m not afraid. I never thought you did anything to them and I trust you both. I know they say Hawkins is cursed but I feel like it’s more the people here that are said curse. I’ve been bullied most of my life by people like Martin. These backwards citizens condemning you for no reason and then hurting Steve because he’s your friend… it’s bullshit. I’m sorry you went through that and if anything happens again I’ll defend you.”

“We know, honey. That’s what worries us.”

“You don’t want to go through what we did, Y/N, trust me. We don’t want you to experience the pain and loss we have.”

“You’re implying my life has been devoid of pain and loss up to this point.”, you breathily laugh causing them to exchange a concerned glance. “I, uh, I should head back to my dorm. Theo’s probably calling to make sure I’m not dead. He really is a nice guy.”

“Do you want to come back to our house? You can take a bath and we can make you some dinner.”, Eddie offers nervously.

“Decide now. I can’t go back and forth with you two. If you want me to be yours I can be that. But if you’re going to push me away again or I’m going to wake up alone, I’d rather go back to my single dorm room and call the guy that seems to genuinely like me and isn’t afraid to say so.”

“We aren’t afraid, Y/N. This right here is more complicated than all that but we aren’t afraid to say we like you.”, Steve answered as he rose to his feet, reaching for your hand to help you do the same. “Can we take this one step at a time? Don’t forget, this is new for us to and a lot more is on the line. We could lose our careers and reputation.”

“And I don’t have much of one in this town to begin with.”, the metalhead joked making Steve roll his eyes. 

“You’re willing to put all that on the line for me?”

“Of course.”, they responded in unison with zero hesitation making you grin. 

“I did it for Eddie countless times and I’d do it again.”, the coach coos as he grabs the man’s cheeks and brings his lips to his own.

“Ok…one step at a time.”

##############

@joannamuns9n @dckweed @corkadymu @lilaclazer @aol19 @nailbatanddungeon @dashingdeb16

[morgana-larkin]

Alright peeps, here’s part 18 to ‘Just Tired’! Next part is the threesome and I saw that most people wanted the aftermath/afterthought instead so I’ll do that. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26

Just Tired - Part 18

Warnings: Manipulative relationship (mentioned), smut, swearing

Words: 3.1k

Melissa wakes up the next morning with her arm wrapped around her new body pillow.

“Should have gotten a body pillow years ago.” She says before she sighs. “Or another spouse.” She adds and then gets up.

Melissa pulls up to the parking lot at the same time as you and she calls out to you.

“Hey Y/n!” She says and you look behind you and wait for her to catch up to you.

“Hey Melissa, I wanted to thank you again for your help yesterday.” You tell her.

“Not a problem, I always keep an emergency shirt in my desk. With second graders it’s almost mandatory as you can have anything end up on your clothes.” She says and you laugh.

“You know that’s a good tip, I think I’ll start having an extra shirt in my desk.” You tell her.

“So I wanted to ask you something and it’s a bit embarrassing.” She says as she stops walking before you enter the school.

“What is it?” You ask her.

“Well, while I was married to Joe, all these fancy sex toys came out and I never had one before. So last night I finally got the courage and got 3 vibrators.” She tells you and you hum.

“Did you have a fun night last night?” You ask her with a smirk.

“I did yes, but I used what the worker called a wand as it looked pretty straightforward. But I also got these 2 rabbit ones and I have no idea how they work. So I was wondering if maybe you’d like to come over and show me?” She asks you and you smile. You never thought Melissa would be asking you to show her how to work a vibrator.

“I can’t believe you never used a vibrator before, they can honestly be life changing.” You say and she lowers her head in embarrassment. “Hey, nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about.” You say as you tilt her head up. “Of course I’ll come and show you. Perfect timing as well as I’m on my period and don’t feel much like getting an orgasm for the next couple days but I don’t mind fucking you.” You tell her. “But luckily I got blessed in that department and they only last 4 days, and I started yesterday.” You add. “So I’ll be good to go on Saturday.”

“That’s good. Would you like to come over tonight?” She asks and you nod before you both finally walk into the school.

“Sure, right after school or right before bedtime?” You ask her.

“Right before bedtime.” She tells you and you nod.

“I’ll be there.” You say as you both reach the breakroom.

“Oh Y/n! Come here.” Jacob says as soon as he sees you and you walk over to them.

“We were just discussing what my Halloween costume should be.” Janine says and shows you three costumes.

“So do you have another date with Y/n on Saturday?” Barb asks Melissa and she nods.

“At 7.” Melissa tells her.

“You might be only… what did you call it? Casual dating?” Barb asks and Melissa nods. “But you’ve only been on a date with one other person. And I know you must be getting more people asking you out as I hear that notification for the apps going off at home every 5 minutes.” Barb tells her.

“I’ve gotten asked by a few men but I said no.” Melissa confesses.

“And why’s that?”

“Because I’m scared. I know they’re different people but Joe was a man, and I just feel more comfortable around women right now.” Melissa tells her and Barb rubs her shoulder to provide her best friend with comfort.

“Whatever is helping you then just do that. Whether I agree with it or not.” Barb tells her and Melissa nods.

“I take it you don’t agree with me casually dating people?”

“Not really, but I’ve also been married for 30 years so that was a different time.” Barb says and Melissa nods.

“It sure was. It seemed much simpler at the time but not as much fun.” Melissa says and Barb nods.

“It was simpler. Now there’s all these different things that people do and I’m wondering how people fit all of it into their schedules.” Barb says and Melissa chuckles.

“I think it’s fun, Y/n has been showing me all these different things that people are doing and I’m enjoying it.” Melissa says and Barb hums.

“Hey you two.” You say as you slide into the free seat at their table.

“Oh, speak of the devil.” Melissa says and you look at her amused.

“Were you talking about me, Melissa? Should I be flattered?” You ask her and she rolls her eyes.

“Was there something you needed?” She asks and you nod.

“Well, me, Jacob and Janine were thinking of doing an escape room on Friday and we wanted to invite you both with us.” You ask them and they look at you confused.

“What’s an escape room?” Melissa asks you.

“You’ve never done an escape room before?” Jacob asks her as they were both listening.

“I’m guessing it’s something youse kids do now.” Melissa says and you nod.

“It’s so much fun! Ok so we pick whatever storyline they have and they lock you in a room for an hour and you have to figure out all these clues and try to escape before the hour is up.” You explain to them and they’re both looking at you with surprised expressions. “It’s a lot of fun, it’s a huge puzzle. And they’re more fun with more than 3 people.” You say to them.

“Well I’ll pass.” Barb says.

“You know what, I’ll come.” Melissa says and you smile at her.

“Perfect! We’ll have four people.” Janine says and high fives Jacob as Ava walks in.

“Ava, want to do an escape room with us this Friday?” You ask her.

“You kidding? I don’t want to spend any more time with you losers than I have to.” She says as she makes her coffee and you shrug.

“It’s gonna be a lot of fun, you won’t regret it Melissa!” You tell her and then go back to the table with Janine and Jacob.

“Trying new things or trying to be around her as much as possible?” Barb asks her and Melissa looks at her.

“I’m trying new things, just trying to have a life.” Melissa defends herself. “Oh by the way, I have my first court date to try and file the divorce. It’s not this Sunday but next and was wondering if you can come with me.” Melissa asks Barb.

“Of course, whatever time it’s at, I’m there.” Barb immediately says and Melissa nods.

“Thank you. I just don’t really want to see Joe by myself.” She says and takes a deep breath.

“You don’t have to. And maybe invite Y/n as well, double the support.” Barb tells her.

“I don’t know. I don���t know if I want to invite her even more into my mess of a life.”

“Melissa, she’s the one who helped you escape this relationship, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind seeing it end.” Barb reassures her.

“I’ll think about it.” Melissa says.

“When are you meeting with a lawyer?” Barb asks.

“Tomorrow after school. I just want a divorce and the house, nothing else.” Melissa tells her.

Melissa finds herself watching you throughout the day and can’t help but get turned on. Even though she gave herself an orgasm last night, she can’t wait until you come over. She can’t help but look at your lips and want to kiss them, or even your neck as it’s on full display today. She can see just the top of your boobs and can’t wait to touch them. She happened to be grading some work when she sees you across the hall writing something on the board and she trails her eyes up your entire body and unconsciously rubs her thighs together.

“Ms. Schemmenti?” One student says as he’s right at her desk and she jumps a little.

“Yes?” She asks him.

“I need a little help with question four.” He tells her and she then immediately starts helping him with the problem.

At the end of the day, she was so pent up from staring at you all day and thinking about having sex with you that she couldn’t wait until tonight. When your last student left, she took your hand and dragged you into your classroom, she shut the door, trapped you against the wall and kissed you.

“Oh, what’s got you so excited today?” You ask her and she hums before she kisses your neck.

“Was thinking of all the things you could do to me and this body that I love to touch.” She tells you and you giggle.

“Well I could come over earlier.” You tell her.

“Actually I was thinking maybe I could get my vibrators and come to your place. Since your roommate doesn’t get home for another hour and a half.” She says.

“Well I definitely won’t say no to that.” You tell her and she smiles.

“I’ll be there in about 40 minutes.” She says before she gives you one last kiss and then leaves.

“Oh god, this woman is gonna be the death of me.” You mutter to yourself before you leave.

You get home and you quickly get changed into something more comfortable as you are starting to get cramps. You take some Advil and get changed into some leggings. The Advil kicks in as soon as Melissa is knocking on your door and there couldn’t have been better timing.

“Hey Me-” You get cut off as her lips are on yours as soon as you open the door. She kisses you with such force that you end up backing up a bit and you hear the door closed and realise she closed it with her foot.

“Sorry, I’m just so pent up that I can’t wait.” She tells you and you smile before you bring her up to your bedroom.

“Did you bring the vibrators?” You ask her and she nods before she goes in her purse and pulls them out. She hands them to you and you look at them before smiling.

“Ok, these are easy to use but I don’t mind giving you an example as to how they should feel.” You say and she lets out a small whine.

“Get on the bed.” You tell her. “And remove all your clothes.” You add and she does as you say.

“Can you remove yours as well? I like skin to skin.” She says and you nod.

“Of course.” You say and you both remove all your clothes, with the exception of your underwear for the obvious reason. “Now the thing about the rabbit is you have to be wet so it can slide inside you.” You explain to her as you get between her legs. You then look at her centre and see how wet she is already. “You have been pent up all day, haven’t you?” You ask her and she nods.

“I was imagining you touching me and making me come all day.” She admits and you smirk.

“Oh, I’ll be doing both.” You tell her as you bend down and kiss her neck. You start sucking in a spot that she can cover up with her hair and she starts squirming underneath you, wanting to be fucked. You then leave a trail of kisses from her neck to her boobs where you wrap your mouth around her nipple. She starts moaning underneath you as you swirl your tongue around her hardened nipple while playing with the other one.

“Y/n, Y/n, please, I need you.” She says breathlessly.

“I need to give your other nipple the same treatment, keep it balanced.” You say and she whines and places her head back on the pillow. She then gasps as you start sucking her other nipple and runs her fingers through your hair.

“Oh god, I can’t take it anymore.” She says and tries to move her hand to her clit but you slap her hand away. “Please.” She begs. You scoot down so you’re sitting in between her legs and grab one of the rabbits. You decide to use the one with the ears instead of the one without the ears. You slowly slide the dildo part inside of her and she gasps. You make sure the smaller part is on her clit before you turn it on. “Oh my god!” She screams out as she feels the vibration on her clit and inside of her at the same time.

“How does that feel?” You ask her, already knowing the answer.

“Oh god, so fucking good.” She says. You then start moving the dildo inside of her, making sure to keep the smaller part on her clit. “Oh cazzo!” She screams out and you smirk. “I’m already so close, please touch me.” She says, almost out of breath.

You start playing with one of her boobs with your free hand while still moving the vibrator in and out of her. You see her legs start to shake before she grabs your hand and squeezes it and then she gasps as she comes. You take the dildo out of her and push the smaller part in her, getting the ears to stimulate inside of her, on her g-spot. You see her grabbing the bed frame and holding onto it for dear life as her second orgasm is already building. She then grabs onto your arm and pushes you down on top of her and kisses you as she’s about to come. You turn the vibration up and she gasps into the kiss as she comes again. You don’t stop, you turn the speed up again and her legs start moving like crazy from the over stimulation.

“Oh, Y/n, I can’t take it.” She says and you kiss her.

“Just relax.” You say softly and she moans into the kiss and you feel her relax before she tenses up and comes again. You turn the vibrator off and pull it out of her as her orgasm washes all over her and she tries to catch her breath. You quickly put a robe on and go downstairs to get her some water before running back up. “Here.” You say to her and hand her the water bottle.

“Thanks.” She says as she takes it and drinks half of it before putting it on the nightstand and laying back on the bed. “Come here.” She says and pats the spot next to her. You lay down next to her and she nuzzles her head on your chest and wraps an arm around you.

“How do you feel?” You ask her as you stroke her head.

“I feel great, that was intense but so good.” She says and you hum. “I really needed that, thank you.” She tells you and you kiss her forehead. She closes her eyes when you did that and she can’t help but feel butterflies in her stomach.

“You already knew how to use them didn’t you?” You ask her.

“Ya, I read the instructions and I asked the worker there.” She tells you and you laugh.

“You don’t have to make up excuses for wanting me to use a vibrator on you, you can just ask.” You say.

“It’s more fun to make up excuses though, feels more rebellious.” She says and you chuckle.

“So you’re a little rebellious fiery redhead. That just makes you even hotter.” You tell her and she chuckles.

“You like the badasses?” She asks and you hum.

“Seems so, who would have thought?” You say and she looks up at you.

“I had my suspicions.” She says and you laugh before locking eyes with her. She looks into your eyes and sees them shining as you look at her. Without thinking she grabs your head and kisses you.

“Are you turned on again?” You ask her and she shakes her head.

“Just want to make out with you, if that’s ok.” She says and you nod.

“More than ok.” You tell her before kissing her. She places her hands on the side of your head and you bring her leg onto yours as you’re both facing each other. You both break apart when air is needed and you just stare at her and see how vulnerable she is right now. “You’re so beautiful.” You tell her softly and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She leans into your touch before a realisation dawns on her and she snaps her eyes open.

“I just remembered something I gotta do, some grading.” She says as she gets up and starts getting dressed.

“What?” You ask as it was so sudden.

“I got some grading, my little eagles will want the work back tomorrow.” She tells you as she puts her bra on. She then slides her pants on and looks around for her shirt. “Where’s my shirt?” She asks.

“Right in front of you.” You say confusingly as she didn’t see it. “Are you ok?” You ask her after she puts her shirt on and she looks at you.

“Ya, why?”

“Just, it was so sudden, that’s all.” You tell her.

“Well I forgot about it until just now.” She explains and you hum but still remain unconvinced. She puts the vibrators back into her purse and then she walks out of your room. You still have your robe on so you follow her out to the front door.

“I’ll see you at school tomorrow.” You tell her and she looks at you and nods.

“Yep, see you tomorrow.” She says before giving you a kiss and walking quickly to her car.

You watch as she pulls out and then drives down the street until she’s out of sight. Melissa pulls up the driveway of Barb’s house and just sits there in her car. She contemplates what happened before she realised she had to get out of your house, out of your touch.

“Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!” She curses as she hits the steering wheel. She then gets her phone out and looks at a picture of you and she takes a deep breath as a tear falls down her cheek. “Y/n, I love you too.”

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Let me know if you want to be added!

[cuntyhunty22]

Hope again. (Part 2 )

* fate *

Pairing : Jackson!oldman!joel x reader

Tags : smut, violence, language, age gap, established relationship (sort of ) , oral , creampie,

Blood, murder, death. (Let me know if I missed anything.)

Description : see part 1 for full rundown . It's listed in my materialist! Reader is in a relationship with Joel, she is adjusting to living in Jackson. Battling her demons.

•

A month has flown by, and wow is life different. Jackson has been good to you.. You met the love of your life.. you have people that care about you.. a family really. You have a great relationship with Ellie despite Ellie's issues with Joel. She is a kid it's understandable. Dina has became like your sister, Maria same way. Tommy is like a brother you never had, always annoying Joel together. Then there is Joel.. the man who has changed everything for you. The man who in the darkest time of your life has brought you so much light and you'd like to think you do the same for him.

•

You are on patrol today. It's became a normal part of your routine. Most days it's been easy few infected here and there, no signs of the raiders who murdered your sister. That's not changed, the thing you made Joel swear to you will always remain that.

It's about 6:30 in the morning, staring at the ceiling the opposite side of the bed already empty. The smell of coffee fills the air and slight movement in the kitchen makes you smile.

Sliding on Joel's flannel you make your way to the kitchen. Sitting there glasses on the Rim of his nose reading a book.

"Mornin" you lean against the counter, bare legs exposed as the sunlight hits you illuminating them.

Joel peeks out from his book taking you all in.

"I made coffee, patrol is 8 but we can leave before."

"Okay"

He gets this way when it's time for patrol, all moody and just focused really.

You turn around to grab a cup out of the cupboard, the flannel raising slightly exposing your bare ass cheeks. That is when you feel a hand with a firm grip grabbing your ass making you gasp. Joel now has your body sandwiched between the counter and him. His arm reaching around your body between your legs.

"You start that sir we will be late for patrol and -" he cuts you off by gently rubbing your clit. You moan, feeling his bulge on your back as he kisses down your neck.

"I need you." He growls in your ear.

Footsteps approach and you two quickly stop what was quickly progressing.

"Morninngggggg maybe we should have knocked." Ellie and Dina stand in the doorway of the kitchen.

"Jesus Christ. Sorry um let me change." You blush bright red.

"Oh we can come back we are early anyway" Dina chuckles.

Joel grunts lookin around.

"You two head to town, we will meet there."

Joel comes into the bedroom as you are slipping the flannel off. His eyes on you as he closes the space between you. His hand caresses your face as you stand bare in front of him.

"Lay down." Demanding tone. Eyes dark.

"Baby we don't-"

"I said lay down."

His hand tightly gripping your chin.

Being with you woke something up in Joel, he went from not being with someone for years to wanting you every minute of the day. Even at this age and when his body didn't want to he made himself. He positions you on the edge of the bed, your legs hanging off. He gets on his knees and spreads your legs wide open.

"Joel- we need-"

He licks one big strip across your cunt instantly making your whole body shiver

He does this again a few times until he is literally devouring you . Licking and sucking all over desperately, groaning into your cunt.

You look at the time it's 7:30

"Joel- fuck baby.. we gotta -"

He stops for a second. Looking up at you. His mustache wet from your juices.

"I know. But we ain't leavin till you cum so if you worried about bein late I advise you to do what I say."

He goes right back to where he was before. This time he as he sucks on your clit he swirls his tongue around it as he slides two fingers in..

"Fuck fuck god you make me feel so good"

Joel knows your body and it's like he has since you met.

"Darlin what did I say.."

"Mhm close-" you whimper

He pumps his fingers in a few times more until you unravel under him legs shaking.

He lifts you off the bed up to him kissing you, you taste yourself on him and that turns you on again you reach down to feel how hard he is in his jeans.

7:45

"Fuck."

You and Joel clean up quickly.

You slip on your jeans, boots, tank top and one of Joel's flannels. You quickly grab your pistol, your daggers and your sister's gun.

Thankfully that stables aren't too far, Joel grabs his horse and you grab one as well.

•

8:01

This patrol is you. Dina . Ellie and Joel.

"See told ya they would be late.. and we weren't we should get a prize or somethin."

Ellie jokes.

" hey it's only a minute late! And we are never late.." You laugh.

"Okay patrol leader is obviously Joel.. I don't think I really have to tell you 3 to listen to him. Stay safe report things you see when you come back"

Tommy gives the run down.

You and Joel take the front , Ellie and Dina take the back.

Joel is pretty quiet, you just ride in peace.

"You alright today?" You ask looking over at him.

"Yeah darlin. Just wanna keep my girls safe s'all.. have you been sleeping okay.?"

"Joel you sleep with me like every night."

"I know and you talk in your sleep.."

"Did I say something?"

You stop the horse.

"Nothin it's fine. Let's keep movin"

"Apparently it's not fine because you are acting weird.. you go from "Oh We AiNt LeAvIn TiLl YoU cUm." To not saying anything and bringing up something I said unconsciously."

You still remained stopped as Joel continued. Ellie and Dina have now caught up with you.

"Everything good?" Ellie asks

"Yep just Joel being grumpy."

"Oh so nothing new then." You both laugh.

The three of you continue on the trail until you are met back up with Joel.

"Okay we are gonna leave the horses here, expect this area on foot.. Ellie you are with me.. Dina you go with her."

Joel comes over to you leaving you with a gentle kiss. "Let's get through patrol and we will talk okay."

"Okay."

•

Dina and you go to the left of the mountain.. joel and Elli go toward the abandoned neighborhood.

"Soooo how are things.. hottest couple in Jackson.. well besides me and Ellie..." Dina grins at you.

"Good, really good. It's weird. My life is completely different now. Um but sometimes like today he gets in these moods and I know it's just him, and his trauma."

"He loves you.. has he said that yet?"

"No.. but I think I may have.. he mentioned I said something in my sleep and it could be 2 things.. that.. and something else I'm not ready to talk to anyone about unless I have too.. and wait- how do you know that?

"He looks at you the same way he looks at Ellie.. different obviously.. but I see it."

"Fuck me."

"Speaking off, how is that.?" Dina smirks curiously.

"Oh my god we are not having this conversation it feels wrong."

"But you said I'm like your sister... did you tell your sister everything.."

"Good god. Ok this is all I will say.. I am a satisfied woman."

You both laugh.

•

Joel's pov

"Joel.?"

"Yeah Ellie?"

"I don't wanna pry into your relationship or whatever that is. She's good for you. I like her, Dina likes her. She's helpful and a bad ass.. and she brings light to you.."

"Yeah.. yeahh I know."

"So why are you being grumpy, you were about to jump her bones this morning and now grumpy pants."

"Ellie- let's not talk about me jumpin her bones.. I uh- well you know how I mumble in my sleep.. so does she."

"Okay and?"

"Well she's said two things that worry me.. one about the shit with her sister.. she knows the guys name.. there is history there she don't speak about it.. and I just wish she'd tell me ya know.. let me help her.. and last night she said she loved me.. in her sleep obviously .."

"Okay and you don't talk about your trauma really.. give her time.. do you love her?"

"Yeah.. yeah I do."

"Then maybe tell her old man."

Ellie punches Joel in the arm.

•

Patrol was clear on the path Dina and you took, you made it back to the horses to meet back up with Joel and Ellie.

"Okay let's head home." Joel looks at you three, comes over to you giving you a peck on the lips.

"You're safe." He looks at you.

"And so are you."

•

"Joel and his girls." Ellie says.

You couldn't help but smile ear to ear.

You all hop on your horses begin the short journey back to Jackson when you notice something.

"Joel.."

"Yeah darlin."

You point to what looks like a tent in the woods, still too far to tell.

You become Antsy ready to take off on your horse to see. Your hands shake as you grab your dagger.

"Wait.. let's not ambush.." Joel looks at you, your shaking hands. "Look at me.." he demand.

"Yes" your eyes dark. Rage filled.

"We don't know if that has anything to do with your sister.. we need to be smart here.. I have you.. Ellie.. and Dina.. that's too much to risk without knowin"

"Joel.. you gave me your fucking word." You snap at him.

"I did and I stand by it, but let's not go into a death trap darlin. I just got you in my life..."

"And I don't have my fucking sister in my life Joel.

He looks at you. Really looks at you.

"What." You look at him.

"Nothin let's get home okay.."

"Fine."

Ride back is quiet, you are pissed at him. Between not knowing what that tent was.. if it was even a tent.. and him being short with you. Joel tells Tommy about what looked to be a tent. Tommy agreed that Joel made the right call and deep down you do too, but it doesn't make it feel any better. Joel talks to Tommy for a bit longer as you are standing there letting your anger fester.

"Hey" Ellie says.

"Hi Ellie"

"He's just protecting you.. it's fucking annoying and infuriating.. but that's Joel.. that's what he does for the people he loves."

You look at her dumbfounded.

"Talk to him." She smiles giving you a hug.

"See you later."

You leave Joel and start your walk home. You needed a second to yourself. Once home you pour yourself a drink sitting on the kitchen counter the same one Joel had you pinned against earlier this morning. You sit there and ponder how much you miss your sister.. how you want to avenge her.. about the words Ellie just said.. how Joel was acting earlier.. did you say that in your sleep. Is that why he is being like this. He isn't the best with emotions hell you ain't either. Is it too much.. what if he doesn't love you..

•

"Hey babygirl."

"Hi there handsome."

Joel walks over, positioning himself between your legs, arms wrapping around you. Your face is buried into his chest. He feels like home. The smell of the hot air outside, the lingering of his cigarette. All over him.

" M'sorry For today. For bein short and I don't want it to seem like I dismissed your feelins about the tent. I'm just.. I'm just trying to keep you safe.. to keep you from things in your life that have already hurt you. Maybe that's selfish of me .. I just I-"

"You what." You mumble your face still against him.

"Look at me.." Joel trails off

You look up at his big brown eyes now covered by those glasses you love. His big hand cups your face.

"I love you." Joel stares at you nervously.

"I love you too.. now take me to our bed and make love to me."

•

Joel's lips to yours instantly. Your legs wrapped are around him as he picks you up. You start to worry he's gonna hurt himself but it's hard to stop him from kissing you the way he is. These kisses remind you alot of the first night you spent together. How hungry, how desperate to get more and more from one another. Joel takes you to the bedroom laying you down on the bed. Not missing a beat he pulls your shirt off , his lips just leaving yours for a millisecond.

"Babe-" you speak against his mouth.

"Yeah darling." His lips back to yours speaking between kisses.

"The door-"

Joel pinches your nipples between his fingers making you moan as he moves to be on top of you.

"The- fuck.. the door.. is the door locked."

His mouth moves down your jaw sucking in places that you're sure is gonna bruise.

"Joel" you moan. Obviously he doesn't care about the door. As he unbuttons your jeans pulling them down along with your panties, his hands running down your body. You pull off his teeshirt then straight to unbuttoning his jeans. He stands pulling them off , taking you in as you are laying on the bed waiting for him.

"Fuck I need you. So beautiful darlin I love you."

He opens your legs and puts himself between. His hand glides down your side to between your legs.

"No"

You whimper as he runs his finger through your wetness.

"No what darlin."

"Need you. Just you." Your hand on his face looking intro his eyes

As much as you loved foreplay with him, you needed his body on you. Him inside you. You needed your bodies as one.

That's all he needed to hear as he lifts his hips up lining up with you, with a gentle thrust he invades your whole body. You Throw your head back letting out loud moan. A moan you hope to god the house is empty. Joel thrusts in and out of you. Steady, but deep. Hard but not too hard. Loving but not too vanilla. Nose to nose as he wraps his fingers in the the root of your hair at the nape of your neck. Sex with him has always been fantastic, but this was on another level. It was him giving into love.. him giving his body to you. Him making sure you feel that, that you know that with every thrust, with every kiss down your jaw.

"Fuck sweet girl." He grunts as he thrusts in you grabbing one of your legs pinning it up towards your chest. This makes him sink deeper into you than you could ever imagine.

You go to speak but nothing comes out besides moans. You couldn't believe this could get any better but it did.

You feel your body being taken over the orgasm building but you didn't want it to end. You wanted to be here with him like this forever. But Joel.. Joel knows your body.

Joel pushing his body forward pinning that leg even more, opening you up. His cock right where it needed to be.

"I'm- god -" unable to form a sentence, your body under his control.

" yeah that's it baby give in.. show me how good I make you feel."

Joel cups your face as he slams hard.. once

"Yes baby I feel her on me."

Twice

"Look at me.. it's you and me.. you were made for me.. fate remember."

Third times a charm

"Yes thata girl.. good girl.."

Your body shakes as he talked you through your orgasm. You feel like a puddle under him.

As you are riding your wave you feel Joel twitch in you meaning he isn't far behind.

"Yes baby keep going.." you say.

Joel grunts looking at you, slamming his cock in and out.

"Come from me baby. Mark what is yours."

"Gonna fill you up darlin..fuck."

His body falling on to yours.. not moving his cock out of you. You just lay there.. naked bodies connected in every way.

"Joel... I love you.."

Your hands running through his curls. His head laying on your chest as his fingers run over that scar.

"I hate this.. I hate that someone almost took your heart.. my heart.."

He looks up at you.

"That was a very different part of my life baby.."

His eyes glimmered full of lust and love.

Joel loves being called that, as a rugged old man I guess it made him feel vulnerable in a way.

"I know darlin.. but I feel you are still haunted by that part."

You let out a deep breath

"And you aren't? But that's what makes us.. us.. my past.. your past.."

"Suppose so."

You both lay there for a moment in silence, lazy little touches. The sound of your hearts beating together. Kisses here and there.

"Can we stay here forever" you ask.

"We can.. you.. me.. maybe put a baby in ya if this old man can still even do that."

You just stare at him , realizing he actually means all of this.

"Really? You want that.?"

Still staring at him playing with his hair admiring how soft he is with you right now. Something so beautiful not a lot of people get to see. They only see the hard exterior, not the good man behind it.

"Yeah why wouldn't I.. I'm old darlin you knew this... why wouldn't I want a quiet normal.. well as normal as it can be life. Tommy did it.. "

he lets out a sigh. Realizing maybe he's been too vulnerable.

"I know that's all you have wanted baby.. when you lost Sarah.. fighting to find Tommy.. becoming Ellie's Joel. All you have ever wanted is a family. That's all I have very wanted too.."

He submerges himself even more into you his head buried in your chest. He doesn't have to say anything because you already knew.

"Fate is a funny thing" you chuckle.

You lay there silent for a few more minutes until you and Joel hear the front door close. Typically Ellie is always in the garage unless she needs something.

You both throw on clothes to go see what's going on.

•

Ellie , Dina, Jesse, and Tommy all standing in the kitchen.

Joel looks at them confused. "What's going on."

"So we got word.. that tent she seen earlier.. he instinct's were correct. Late patrol went that direction, they have one of us. Hostage type of situation. The man demanded her.. for the hostage."

They all stare at you.

"Darlin you need to tell me exactly who they are.." Joel looks at you.

You take a deep breath pulling your tank top down to expose the scar above your heart...

"You see this.. this is why... the man who killed my sister... I killed his brother.. I did things I needed to do to survive. I was somewhat in a relationship with him till things got really bad. It all stems back to the beginning.. to home in Ohio. The history goes back that far. Raised as kids together, he was my first love till he wasn't anymore. He was killing anyone and everything. He was also abusing me for years on end. One night I decided to leave.. till he hunted my sister and I down. He said I either go back and be with him forever or he's cutting my heart out. He said no one else was ever allowed to have me... that he or his brother would make sure of that."

You start sobbing.

"His brother had got word, after we fled and we have been running.. that's what happened. He has been trailing me for about a year now. When he killed her he said it was an eye for an eye.. until I stabbed him.. He ran off that's how I ended up here. I'm gonna finish the job.. no one else is dying because of me. Joel you gave me your word.. so don't you fucking dare tell me no"

Tommy looks at Joel.

"You knew?" Tommy questioned.

"Somewhat.. but not the whole story."

Joel looks at Tommy.

"So we kill him. I'm with you." Ellie comes over to stand next to you.

"Same here" Dina joins.

You don't even wait for anyone else to reply. You run out the door, your sister's gun in hand. You hear Joel yell for you but you don't stop. You can't stop. Your whole body has been taken over filled with rage, with need for revenge to finish this chapter. You run.. and run.. and run.. until till you reach the gate. You hear voices everyone frantically chasing you. Then patrol is yelling down saying there is a man outside with a knife to a woman's throat.

"Open it.. let me out."

•

Now you're back right to the spot your sister died in your arms as he stands feet away from you.

"I'm here. Now let her go." You look at the man.

The gate is still open as Joel, Ellie, Dina, Tommy, Jessie and others come behind you.

"So I see you found another family to fuck up. which one is your new man since my brother meant nothing to you for you to just slit his throat and put a bullet in his head."

"Your brother was an abusive piece of shit. And my life and how I heal is none of your business."

You take a few steps toward him. Four people come out of the woods walking behind him guns in hand. Behind you, you hear guns click.

"I'll kill her if you don't tell them to stand down.."

The man tightens the grip on the knife slightly pressing it harder against the woman's throat.

"They will.. if those fuckers do."

"So you never answered me.. who's your man.."

"I'm here right.. I'm the one you wanted.. don't worry about anyone behind me."

Your hand gripping slightly on the pistol

On your right side. Taking a few more steps till you're about two feet away staring the man into his eyes.

"Hey man just let her go.. no one needs to get hurt.." Joel chimes in.

"Oh so that's him.." the man laughs. "You always did have daddy issues.. older man.. makes sense. You're just a whore like your momma."

You seen black shoving the woman out of the way, tackling the man to the ground. The woman runs as gunshots fill the air. You land a few good punches until he has you by your throat. He is crushing your windpipe as he flips you around slamming you to the ground. He has knocked the wind out of you, your breathing is straggling and honestly you are probably concussed. He punches you 1.. 2.. that's when he grabs his knife. He proceeds to slice that scar wide open, you gush blood and your screams fill the air.

"This is for my brother you bitch."

You don't even know what's going on around you besides yelling, and the ringing of gunshots. You feel like you are gonna lose consciousness until the man is knocked off of you like a freight train. You lay there for a second to regain some type of control. You get to your feet completely unaware everything is black besides the fact you see this man lying on the ground. You pull her pistol out shooting him in the shoulder twice.. enough to get him not able move his arms.

"That's for my fucking sister."

You shoot him again in the other shoulder.

"That's for my fucking mother.. for stealing her meds when she was sick."

You get on top of him pulling out your dagger..

"No no please don't."

The man begs.

"Fate led us here.. And this motherfucker this is for me. Rot in hell with your piece of shit brother."

You stab him.. over.. and over .. and over.. and over and over.. probably 50 times at this rate..

screaming with every stab to the man's body. You were like a woman possessed. Blood covering you. You make the same slice above the heart you have but deeper.

You go to cut his heart out when you are pulled off of him.

"No no fucking let me go.. I'll fucking kill you too." you punch and kick whoever has a hold of you.

"Hey.. hey baby it's me.. it's me.."

Joel's hands on your blood covered face.

You drop to your knees and you pass out. Blood leaking from your chest as Joel hold you in his arms.

"Tommy!!" Joel screams. "I need help."

•

A day later.

You wake up confused. You recall some of what happened but not everything. You are connected to a bunch of wires and your whole body aches. You're groggy..disoriented .. you blink a few times finally able to make out what is around you. Joel is in a chair to your right.

"Hey darlin.."

"Hey baby... you kept your word." You make a small smile.

"I did.. but I almost lost you.."

"But you didn't.. I am safe... is everyone safe?"

"Yes few wounds but nothin serious. Well besides you."

"I am fine. Just some stitches and bruises I'll be okay."

Joel looks at you. Like he's almost scared.

"Why are you lookin at me like that."

"You almost bleed out in my arms.. and then.." Joel trails off tears in his eyes.

You realize that you almost bleeding out in his arms probably brought back alot of trauma from Sarah.

"But I didn't and I am here."

"Ummm.. I have to tell you something."

"What?" You look at him confused and worried.

"They found out while they were trying to save you.. that ummm.. you are pregnant."

Tag list: @iknowisoundcrazy @megangovier @littledes1re @pedroscurls @ohhoneypascal @half-moon16

[vettelsvee]

VEE'S F1 PROMPTS LIST (VOL. I) ⋆ I've been thinking of this for quite a while and I've finally decided to post this! So, if you want to, feel free to requests as many times as you want <3 ─ Drivers I write for: anyone (current F1 grid or retired). ─ Send me your requests via Tumblr Inbox (+ some idea in case you want me to write something specific). Just choose a number from the following ones and tell me the driver you want me to write about! ─ The ones in bold are already taken and will be posted as soon as possible

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

1. "Your face is so adorable. I bet the rest of your body is" ✅ "You want that book? I'll buy you the whole series" ↳ Oscar Piastri 3. "Darling, are you feeling well?" 4. "Would it be all right if I borrowed your sweater? It smells like you" ↳ Lando Norris 5. "I might have slept with your robe when you were gone" 6. "If you steal the blankets, I am going to put my cold feet on you" ↳ Max Verstappen 7. "Here, let's share the blanket" ↳ George Russell 8. "You have to be quiet if you want to cum" ↳ Lando Norris 9. "But I want to hear you sing" 10. "I'm gonna fuck you until you beg me to stop" ↳ Max Verstappen 11. "Are you gonna be good for me?" ↳ Lewis Hamilton 12. "Don't get up - I'll do it" 13. "Star-gazing was a good idea" 14. "You look beautiful/handsome in the moonlight" 15. "I think I love you"

16. "I'll always be here for you" ↳ Sebastian Vettel 17. "How about something warm? It'll help you sleep" ↳ Oscar Piastri 18. "It's okay. I couldn't sleep anyway" 19. Don't be silly. I want to stay up with you" 20. "It's not morning yet" 21. "Have a nice nap?" 22. "You have sleepy stuff in your eyes" 23. "Time to wake up sweetie. It's a new day" 24. "You stayed up past your bedtime again, didn't you?" 25. "Why don't we take a nap together? We can be nap buddies" ↳ Carlos Sainz 26. "You're exhausted, honey" 27. "Are you blushing?" (Oscar Piastri) ✅ "Hey, hey, hey, don't let them say that. You're beautiful" ↳ Lewis Hamilton 29. "Yeah, you're cold. I'm giving you my jacket" ↳ George Russell 30. "It looks better on you anyway" 31. "You look pretty today" 32. "Can we get married already?" ↳ Lando Norris 33. "Oh, uh, hey. I just wanted to remind you that I love you" ↳ Sebastian Vettel 34. "We should compare hands, you know. Science" "What?" "What? It's not like we haven't done anything worse" ↳ Carlos Sainz 35. "You're cute" "What" "I said you look like a fruit" "That doesn't even make sneak" 36. "Yeah, okay, so what if I dreamt about kissing you? Don't we all do that to our best friends ...No? What do you mean no?" ↳ Lando Norris 37. "This sounds like you're flirting with me" "...I have been trying to do that for three years now" ↳ Sebastian Vettel 38. "You're the most important person of my life" 39. "Welcome to fatherhood" 40. "God, I'm never leaving your side again" 41. "I got the mirror so you can see yourself while I'm fucking you" ↳ Sebastian Vettel 42. "Don't touch me. Just watch" ↳ Sebatian Vettel 43. "What are you wearing?" 44. "Just watch them having sex with me. Maybe it'll give us some ideas" 45. "Your hair is really soft after you wash it" 46. "Ssh. Stop fussing. I'm just braiding your hair" ↳ Sebastian Vettel 47. "You smell really nice" 48. "You're my new pillow" 49. "We can talk over dinner" 50. "Don't be stubborn. Try it!"

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling - Ch. 31: Warmth

You cope with the aftermath of patrol. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-30 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Fall out from canon-typical violence. Plot points from TLOU2. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only 

Length: 8k

A/N: Hi y'all. This does have a continuation of the spoilers from TLOU2. Again, I'm so sorry for not warning about these further in advance. If you have any questions, feel free to shoot me a DM (or you can always yell in the comments or in my asks. I don't delete things if they're not the kindest so I'll leave whatever you want to send my way up, I totally get it.) Thanks for being here ❤️

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

It shouldn’t be this hard to stay conscious when the world is ending. 

You’d had the thought before, in the early days of the outbreak. When you were trying to find someplace safe and had no idea where to start, when you were just riding and riding and hoping you’d be alive to see the next morning. 

But now was different. It wasn’t your life, it was Joel’s. His was so much more important than your own and the fear of losing him was keeping you awake. You’d nod off for a second - you thought, anyway - only to jerk back awake when your grip on his wrist slipped and his pulse wasn’t a constant - if weak - drumbeat below your fingers. 

You weren’t quite sure how long you’d been on the floor with him. Things were fuzzy. You’d lost a lot of blood, you were familiar with that sensation now, you could identify it even as your mind was foggy. You still weren’t entirely sure what had happened. You remembered Joel screaming - you didn’t think you’d ever forget that horrific sound - and running to find him. You remembered watching as that girl swung the golf club down on his body. It wasn’t until you were already in the room, fighting for control of your gun with someone who looked like he was about Ellie’s age that you realized this was probably a mistake. You’d charged in without a plan to get backup, you were hugely outnumbered, no one knew where the fuck you were. You should have at least gone back for your horse, you were pretty sure she could have fit down here and you could have used sheer size and weight to clear the room. 

But they were killing him. That’s all that could force that sound from someone, life and death, and you couldn’t risk it. If there was a chance, even a tiny one, that you could save him, you were going to take it. Even if it killed you, you were going to take it. 

The threat was gone now - or you hoped it was, at least. Gatling was still on guard. You could feel how tense she was behind you, her body engaged and ready to strike. If they came back armed to the teeth before help arrived, though, you’d be finished. 

Joel’s wrist, the one you’d been holding, relaxed some and you forced yourself to sit up. 

“Joel?” You managed, adjusting your hold on him. His whole arm was limp now. Your heart beat faster. You released his wrist and pressed your fingers into his neck, where you liked to kiss him and feel the vital thrum of his pulse through his skin. It was faint but it was there. You adjusted yourself, propping yourself up on your elbow as your cut side screamed in pain, and you ran your fingers through his hair. You took comfort in the fact that you still could do that. While the rest of his body had been brutalized, Joel’s head was intact outside of where it looked like someone had landed a punch on his cheek near his eye, a bruise blossoming on his skin but no blood shed. It was like the girl had been saving his head for last, like she was trying to draw it out, make sure he was alive and awake while she hurt him. It turned your stomach. 

“You’re OK Joel,” you held face gently in your hand. “Gonna get you out of here, get you back to Ellie. You’re OK.” 

You stayed propped up like that for a while, just talking to him and running your fingers gently through his hair and feeling his breath on your skin until you were too weak to hold yourself up anymore. You collapsed alongside him then, trying to shield his body with yours as much as you could in case the people came back. 

Just a little sleep. That’s all. That’s what you needed, just enough rest to be able to think straight. Then you could figure out how to get Tommy and Joel back to Jackson. 

“Gatling,” you managed before you passed out. “Guard.” 

You woke up to snarling. 

Your head was swimming and you could feel the strength of the dog at your side, her body pressed back against you as she growled and barked. You tried to get your bearings as quickly as you could, fumbling for the rifles you’d brought to Joel’s side. 

“Bambi!” You recognized Ellie’s voice. “Bambi, call off Gatling, she won’t listen to me, we can’t get close enough…” 

“Gatling,” you gritted your teeth, your cut side burning and pulling as you tried to sit up. “Down.” 

You felt her relax and she gave a little whine before curling up against you and giving you a lick. You managed to prop yourself up on your uninjured side, eyes fighting to focus as Ellie, Jesse, Julie and Gene came in. Ellie ran for Joel, Gatling giving a little whine as she tracked her with her eyes.

“Jesus Christ,” Gene said as he got a good look at Joel. 

“He’s alive,” Ellie said, her voice cracking. “I thought…” 

“I know,” you adjusted so you could see him, check on his bandages. Your side protested, damaged skin pulling painfully. “But we have to get him to the doctor, we have to move him now…” 

“I don’t know that we can,” Gene knelt next to Ellie, looking Joel up and down. 

You frowned. 

“The fuck do you mean you don’t know.” 

“I mean,” he said gently. “We need to move quick, already been here too long, and we only have so many hands. I don’t know that he can make it back to Jackson and we should focus on…” 

“Fuck you,” your teeth were clenched, sweat starting at your temples from the strain of sitting upright. “We are not just gonna leave him out here…” 

“If we can save you and Tommy?” Gene said. “Then that’s what we should do. That’s what he’d want.” 

“Fuck you!” Ellie looked murderous. “Bambi’s right…” 

“C’mon,” Julie’s hands gently enveloped your shoulders. “Let’s try to get you up…” 

“I’m not going!” You wrenched yourself out of her grip and cried out in pain, a gush of blood coming from the wound at your side. “I’m not going without him, I’m not leaving him here!” 

Julie’s hands were on you again but you pulled yourself free, forcing yourself to your knees. 

“You’re gonna get yourself hurt,” Gene warned, moving for you, too, but you ignored him. 

“Gatling!” You managed through clenched teeth. Her head sprang up. “Guard!” 

She jumped to her feet and jumped between you and Gene. 

“Bambi,” he said cautiously, hands up, as your dog snapped her jaws and snarled at him. 

“I’m not going anywhere without him,” you were panting for breath. “You can’t make me, not with her like this. She’ll kill you and I’ll fuckin’ let her. Take him. Now.” 

Gene looked back at Jesse, who was helping Tommy sit up. He just shrugged. Gene looked back to you. 

“Fine,” he said. “But you gotta give us some space to work, can’t move him with her like this…” 

You struggled to your feet, using Julie’s shoulder as leverage, and you limped to the wall, all but collapsing against it. Gatling stayed on you, staring Gene down, seeming to trust Julie as you leaned against her. 

“She’s guardin’ me,” you said. “Won’t bother you over there. Move him. Do it.” 

You watched as Gene, Jesse and Ellie got Joel off the floor and out of the room. There was a perverse spot on the ground where his body had been, his blood pooled there. There was so much of it, so much it didn’t seem like there would be any left inside of him. You remembered, suddenly, Justin on the night of the outbreak. How you’d tried to put his blood back inside of him in the hopes that it would save him. How could you save the man you loved if all his blood was on the floor? 

“He’s alive?” Tommy asked from his place propped against the wall. There was a streak of blood down his face. 

“He’s alive,” you said. He closed his eyes and nodded, leaning his head against the wall. 

“Thank you,” he said, quietly enough that you could barely hear him. “I can’t…” 

“It’s OK,” you said. “We’ll get him back. He’ll be OK. He will.” 

You weren’t sure you believed it.

Jesse came back down and helped Tommy up before stopping near the door, keeping a safe distance from you and Gatling. 

“We got him on a horse,” he said. “We gotta move.” 

You gave him a nod and watched him get Tommy started on the stairs before you looked down at Gatling, her body drawn tight, ready to spring into action. 

“Gatling. Heel.” 

She looked up at you, muscle relaxing, and licked her lips. 

“You’re a good girl,” you said, trying to imbue as much praise into your voice as you could manage. “You did real good.” 

She wagged a little uncertainly and watched, waiting to follow you. Julie looped your arm around her shoulders while hers slipped around your waist and she helped you toward the stairs, taking it slow. You had to stop and rest once, not able to breathe, the warm gush of your blood when you pulled the air down low in your lungs making your head spin. 

“Think you can make it?” Julie asked, concerned. 

You nodded, wincing. 

“I’ll make it,” you said. “I know, we have to move.” 

She held you a little tighter and the cold air burned your lungs when you made it outside. Joel was draped over Ares, Gene mounted up behind him. Tommy was on his own horse, blood still on his face as he stared blankly at Joel’s limp body. 

“You can ride with me,” Julie said but you shook your head. You weren’t about to not be in control of a horse, not in this situation. You needed to have the power if something went wrong. You couldn’t trust anyone else to make Joel a priority if there were infected or raiders or, worst of all, the people who had attacked him to begin with. You needed to be able to move to protect him. 

“I’m fine,” you said through gritted teeth, even though you knew getting on Renaissance was going to hurt something fierce. “Don’t need to be slowin’ us down any more by putting two of us on a horse.” 

She went to protest but you pulled away from her and swallowed the sounds of your pain as you went to Renaissance and pulled yourself onto her. You called Gatling onto your saddle, too, and she settled there, still on high alert. You guided the horse to be alongside Gene and Joel and stared Gene down, almost daring him to fight you on it. 

“I want to get everyone back,” he said gently. “But if it’s not everyone, I want as many as I can get.” 

“Then let’s go,” you bit out. 

The ride back to Jackson felt long, longer than it really was, you were sure. Every step Renaissance made was painful. It was hard to stay conscious when you’d lost so much blood and the pain was blinding. You were terrified that something was going to happen, that someone was going to pick now to attack people from Jackson and that you wouldn’t be strong enough to save Joel. The thought was constant and overbearing, hollowing out your chest and making your stomach clench. 

By the time the walls of the city were in view, you were barely able to stay on your horse. Dina had ridden ahead to tell the doctors and the council what was happening and you were thankful for it as your head spun and vision grew spotty as you neared the gates. You were too out of it to notice that someone was there to catch you as your strength started to give out.

“Woah there!” You vaguely recognized Ryan, a guard you regularly saw when he went out on patrol, stomach turning as he lowered you to the snow. “Hey Doc! Got one here!” 

“No,” you shook your head, words starting to slur. The blood on your clothes was cold against your skin. “M’fine… Joel, need to help Joel…” 

“They’re getting him,” he said, looking down at you. He had a nice face, you thought. Pleasant and calming. “You got him back here, it’s OK. We’ll get you taken care of, it’s alright…” 

“Joel,” you closed your eyes. At least things were warmer here. It hurt less. “Need… Joel…” 

“We’ve got him,” Ryan said. His voice sounded so far away. “It’s alright, we’ve got him.” 

You barely remembered nodding before you passed out. 

You were warmer when you woke up. 

Sound came first. It took a moment before you could open your eyes but you could hear the muffled sounds of bickering not far away. For half a moment, you thought you were in Joel’s bed. That he and Ellie were in a tiff just outside his bedroom door, going back and forth about some harebrained scheme that one of them had latched onto. You thought about pressing your face into the pillow and trying to go back to sleep, hoping that Joel would come in once one of them wore the other down. He did that sometimes when he woke up before you, bringing you a cup of tea and setting it on the nightstand before wrapping around you, pulling you into his broad chest and burying his face in your hair or your neck, kissing you and breathing you in until you stirred in his arms. 

And then you remembered. Waking up next to Joel. Going on Patrol. The storm. The blood. 

You tried to sit up before your eyes were open, side pulling and head spinning. 

“Hey guys, she’s waking up!” 

Your eyes had never been heavier but you forced them open anyway, already reaching and groping to figure out where you’d ended up. 

The room was bright, the bed soft. It was the third time you’d managed to dodge death and awoken, confused and lightheaded, in Jackson’s clinic. The other bed was empty.  

“Joel,” you started trying to get up but two small hands held you in bed and you frowned, ready to fight whoever was holding you back, but it was Savvy, her eyebrows drawn tightly together, curls springing in every direction. 

“Mom, you have to be calm, you’ll rip your stitches…” 

She was here. She was with you, willing to talk to you, touch you. The sound of her voice, all gentle concern, made your chest tighten. You just looked at her for a moment, seeking out the minute changes in her since you’d gotten a chance to see her - really see her - last. You thought she might be having her last growth spurt. She looked a little longer, her face a little thinner. There was a scratch on her cheek that you wanted to kiss like you did when she was little. There were tears in her eyes. 

“Savvy…” 

“I was so scared,” her voice cracked. “I thought you might be dead, I thought…” 

“Oh honey,” you pulled her against you and held her to your chest, one arm looping around her waist, the other hand cradling her head to you, the wet of her tears on your neck. You kissed her temple and tried to keep the tears that were starting to cling to your eyelashes from falling. “It’s OK, you’re alright, I’ve got you. Don’t have to be scared, you’re OK.” 

“I’ve never seen you like that,” she sniffed from her place against your skin. “You’re always so strong, you’re never hurt, not like that…” 

“I know,” you said softly, rocking her gently. “I’m sorry, Honey, I wish you hadn’t seen that. I promise, I’ll do everything I can to make sure you never see it again and we can talk all about it but baby, I need to know where Joel is. Is he here? Is he OK? Is he alive?” 

She sniffed and started to pull back from you as the door opened, Ellie, Tommy, Maria and Dr. Livingston coming in. They moved slowly, cautiously. Like they were worried you would startle if they behaved normally. Tommy looked washed out, Ellie exhausted, both with grim looks on their faces. Your arms went limp and Savvy sat back from you, looking between you and them. 

“No,” you shook your head, a lump growing in your throat. “No, no, you’re wrong, he’s not…” 

“He’s alive,” Dr. Livingston said gently. “Barely. But you got him here just in time, it was very very close while we worked on him…” 

“Where is he,” you tried to get up again but Savvy held you down. “I need to see him, just for a second, please…” 

“He’s still unconscious,” Dr. Livingston continued. 

You frowned, looking between everyone. 

“That’s bad,” you said, reading their expressions. “Why… How long has it been?”

“We’ve been back about two and a half days,” Tommy said, his arms crossed over his chest. 

You nodded slowly. That made sense to you.

“He was hurt bad,” you said, looking between them again. “He lost a lot of blood…” 

“He did,” Dr. Livingston said. “But… well, we’d normally expect to see more from him by now. He’s breathing on his own - we don’t have the facilities to keep him alive if he can’t - but that’s the best we can really say for him. He’s… he’s unresponsive.” 

You processed what she said for a moment.

“You’re sure?” 

She nodded, her mouth a thin line. 

“Are you…” You had to close your eyes and focus for a second. None of this came easy or naturally. It was utterly unnatural, thinking of Joel in that way. He was so strong, so vital. He couldn’t just stop being like that. He couldn’t just fade away into nothing like that. “Are you saying he might not wake up?” 

“The longer he’s like this, the more likely it becomes,” Dr. Livingston said. 

“But he’s still alive,” you said, looking back toward Ellie and Tommy again, looking for that reassurance that you weren’t crazy. They knew him, they knew that he wouldn’t just disappear from his body like that. “He’s still breathing.” 

“He’s alive,” she said. “But he might be brain dead, we have no way of knowing right now, no way of scanning for brain function like we did before… I’m so sorry, but you have to consider the possibility that…” 

“Take me to see him,” you cut her off. She looked at Maria, worry in her eyes, like she thought you might be unstable. “Please.” 

Dr. Livingston sighed. 

“You’ve got a fair few fresh stitches and you’re still down plenty of blood yourself. We’ll have to take it slow.” 

Ellie and Savvy helped you stand up and you could feel the wounds on your leg and stomach protesting the movement. For a moment, you thought you might be able to count the number of stitches in your skin because the way it pulled and strained. You hissed and clutched the girls’ hands, squeezing their fingers so hard that you could only hope it didn’t hurt them. 

They helped you across a short hallway to a room that was almost identical to the one you’d been in, just with one fewer bed, giving people more room to work. Joel was there, flat on his back, his arms down straight at his sides over the top of the blanket. But he looked strange, unnatural. 

It took you a moment to recognized the part of it that was wrong. His chest rose and fell, the worst of his injuries hidden by the quilt. He looked like he was sleeping. But it was off. He never slept like that, straight as a board with his arms at his sides in that way. It wasn’t like him, it wasn’t the way his body arranged itself when he was relaxed. Even when he wasn’t curled around you, he slept on his side or, if he was on his back, his hands were folded and resting where his chest met his stomach. He napped on the couch that way sometimes, when he was sleeping lightly, waiting for you. You could come in and press a kiss to his forehead and he would open one eye and cock a smile at you, just big enough that his cheek would dimple. 

But if your lips touched him now, you knew he’d be still. He wouldn’t look at you like you made him happy just by existing. His cheek wouldn’t dimple. 

You made your way to a chair near the head of the bed and lowered yourself into it slowly. His skin was pale, his face totally lax in a way that wasn’t peaceful and was, instead, like an echo. 

“Oh God,” you breathed, one hand going to your lips. 

“We’re doing everything we can,” Dr. Livingston said gently. “We have ways to get him fluids and nutrients but… it’s nothing long term. We’ll just have to hope he makes a turn for the better.”

You nodded, not able to stop looking at him. His body was so empty, so unlike him. 

“Can I stay with him?” You asked quietly. You weren’t sure when you’d started crying but you were. 

“Sure,” she said. “For now. But you need rest…” 

You just nodded. You’d fight that battle when the time came. 

The doctor left you with the girls, Tommy and Maria. Joel’s family and yours. All the people you had in the world in this one, small room. 

“I was going to go home and get changed, take a nap…” Ellie said quietly. “Can I bring you something?” 

“One of his shirts?” You asked. 

“Sure,” she said. You heard the door open and she paused. “You did everything you could, Bambi. We all did.” 

You nodded, not willing to argue with her. 

“I think Tommy and I will get out of here for a bit, too,” Maria said. “Give you some time. We’ll be back in a few hours unless I can actually get my husband to get some real sleep…” 

“He wouldn’t be sleepin’ if it were me,” Tommy said, voice sharper than you were used to hearing. 

Maria sighed. 

“Come on, honey,” she said. “You need rest, too.” 

The room was quiet for a moment, so quiet you could hear the sound of Joel’s shallow breaths. You wanted to put your head on his chest and listen to the life inside him, reassure yourself that he was still in there somewhere, but you didn’t want to hurt him. You’d already done enough. 

“Mom?” Savvy’s voice was soft. “Is it… can I stay? For a bit?” 

You managed to pull your eyes away from Joel to find her, standing to the side, her arms tight over her chest. 

“Of course baby,” you said, looking for another chair. She found one first, moving it to be beside yours. She settled in there, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a heavy sigh. She was looking at Joel, her face drawn. “How have you been?” 

She shrugged noncommittally. 

“Alright, I guess,” she said. “School is OK. Math is stupid.” 

You laughed lightly once. 

“Math’s not stupid but… I know what you mean. Wasn’t ever my strong suit. I liked history best. And music, of course.” 

“Course,” she smiled a little. “I like Ellie and… I like staying where I have been but… I missed you. Missed home.” 

You swallowed the growing lump in your throat. 

“I missed you, too,” you said, voice wet. “So much. More than anything.” 

She nodded slowly, not looking at you. 

“I heard the doctors and some other people talking,” she said hesitantly. “What they were saying… It’s not the first time they’ve seen you hurt like this.” 

You waited for a moment, to make sure she was done. 

“It’s not,” you said. 

She nodded again. 

“How did you end up here?” She asked quietly. 

“I…” You sighed and tried to find the best way to phrase it. “I’d wound up with some bad people. I got hurt. Joel found me when I was in real bad shape. He brought me here. He saved me.” 

“When was that?” 

“About two years ago,” you said. 

“So you weren’t just here the whole time,” she said, more like a statement than a question. 

“No,” you said softly. “I wasn’t.” 

She nodded again. You could see her processing the information, her eyes slightly squinting as she did, so like her father used to do. It still tugged at your heart, bits and pieces of a man you’d loved still alive in his child. 

“I’m still not sure how I feel,” she said, gnawing on her lower lip. “But… I don’t want to keep being mad at you. I miss you. I’d… I’d like to find a way to see you. At least some. For now.” 

“I’d like that,” you said, sniffing a little. “I’d like that a lot. As much time as you want, honey, I’m here.” 

“OK,” she smiled a tight lipped smile at you before looking to Joel. “Do you really think he’ll wake up?” 

You sighed, looking at him, too. 

“I don’t really know anything about medicine,” you said. “But… I do know Joel. And I don’t knot that there’s anything that can keep him from taking care of the people he loves. And I know he knows Ellie needs him, you need him. And I…” your voice cracked. “I need him. He’s strong. He can pull through.” 

She nodded and slowly, gently, rested her head on your shoulder. You froze for a moment, not wanting to disturb her. But, eventually, you had to take a breath and she stayed there beside you, keeping vigil over the man who had become her guardian. 

Savvy ended up staying until after dark. Ellie came back only about an hour and a half after she left, bringing some clothes for you. You immediately put on the shirt, pressing your nose to the collar and breathing in Joel’s scent. She told you then that Savvy hadn’t left the clinic since you’d come in, always at your bedside, nearly ripping off the doctors’ heads when they dared suggest that she go home and get some rest. 

Ellie got her to go home that evening, though, after she gave you a delicate hug that, you thought, might be one of the best ones you’d ever gotten. Dr. Livingston wanted to keep you there for another few days, not something you were going to argue with since you weren’t about to leave while Joel was still there, anyway. She did make you move back to the other room and you gave up the fight quickly, waiting until you heard her leave for the night before going back across the hall, anyway. It was tricky, walking on your own when you were still healing, but you made it without any more blood leaking from you. You pulled your chair close to Joel and looked him over, tracing one finger over the soft skin of his cheek. He still looked so unnatural in this position, so unlike himself. You ran your fingers through his hair, arranging it just so, before you gently took his hands and put them at the base of his chest, one on top of the other. Not quite right, but better. It felt like his body was more his that way. 

“I’m here, Joel,” you said quietly, wanting more than anything to be able to curl up in his lap. “I’m here.” 

You sat on the floor next to the bed - not able to get comfortable enough in the chair to doze off - and rested your head on the mattress near his hip. This wasn’t exactly ideal, either, your stitches itching and pulling as you settled in, but you didn’t care. You had to be close to Joel. Some pain was worth that. 

The next day, you were shaken awake by a frustrated Dr. Palmer who was taking over so Dr. Livingston could get some rest. 

“You are bound and determined to be your own worst enemy,” she muttered, forcing you back to your own bed. She checked you over, reluctantly told you that you were healing well with no sign of infection. The second her back was turned, you were back in Joel’s room. 

Ellie, Tommy and Maria came by again, all of you sitting in near silence, watching Joel, waiting for him to do something - anything - to indicate that he was still in there. 

The next day was less quiet. You were in your usual position in the seat by the head of Joel’s bed when Tommy and Ellie started getting into it. It didn’t sound like a new argument and, you realized, the bickering you’d been only vaguely aware of as you regained consciousness was probably them. 

“I’m not going to sit around here and fucking wait forever,” Ellie snapped. “I’m going out there, I’m going to find them and I’m going to kill every last fucking one of them.” 

“We need to wait,” Tommy said, voice strained. Ellie didn’t seem to care. 

“Wait for them to get further and further away?” She snapped. “Wait for them to come back with more people? No, it’s too big of a fucking risk. I’m going out there.” 

“Need to wait until I can go with you,” Tommy snapped. “Need to wait until we know…” 

Tommy’s voice trailed off. 

“Until we know what?” Ellie demanded. “Until we know whether or not they successfully murdered him? No, fuck that, I’m going to beat the shit out of her with a goddamn golf club, make her fucking feel it…” 

“No, you won’t,” you cut her off. 

“I won’t?” She asked, brows raised, almost daring you to argue with her. “You’re not my fucking mom, Bambi, you don’t get to tell me what the fuck I do or don’t get to do.” 

“You ever killed anyone, kid?” You asked, chin resting on your fist as you watched her. She just blinked at you for a moment. “And I mean people. Real people, not infected.” 

“Yeah,” she said, though her voice was less sharp. “Yeah, I have. Two.” 

“Alright,” you replied. “You torture them? You like killing them?” 

She was silent and just looked at her feet.

“That’s what I thought,” you looked back to Joel. “You’re not going after shit, kid…”

“I’m not a fucking kid!” 

“You’re his kid,” you shot her a glare before looking back at Joel. “And he wouldn’t want you murdering and torturing people for him.”

“But…” 

“No,” you said. “If… If he… If someone needs to handle it, it will be me and Tommy. We can take them and we can make it hurt. You’ll stay here. Not gonna just let you turn into a killer for him, he’d never forgive me. He’d never forgive either of us. One of the last things he said to me was to look out for you and you better goddamn well believe that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. You’re not going any damn place.” 

She stormed out but Savvy came that evening. She brought a deck of cards and the two of you played Go Fish like you used to when she was little. She told you Ellie was cooling off but she thought she’d be OK. 

“I don’t blame her,” she said, arranging some cards in her hand. “If someone did that to you, I’d want to kill them, too.” 

You looked at her for a moment. 

“I wouldn’t want you to,” you said gently. She looked at you over the cards, skeptical. “I mean it. You hear that something bad happened to me, you take it and move on. Don’t hurt yourself thinking that will fix it. It would only make it worse.” 

The day after that, Ellie brought you your guitar. It made Dr. Palmer look nervous but you promised to take it easy and that music was how you relaxed. 

“Just don’t get all worked up and play Freebird,” she muttered, leaving you alone with Joel and your instrument. 

“Why is everyone so obsessed with Freebird?” You asked a silent Joel as you delicately arranged the guitar on your lap, dodging the stitches in your stomach and leg as you did. “There’s better shit out there…” 

You played for him whatever came to mind. The song you’d written for him kept cropping up. So did the songs you’d played with him, slower and gentler things that you tried to pull from memory, even Take on Me because it got stuck in your head. 

“Do you think he can hear me?” You asked Dr. Palmer that afternoon. 

She stepped back from him and sighed for a moment, looking at you as though she were going to gauge her answer around your demeanor. 

“No one knows for sure,” she said eventually. “But… if he could hear anybody, I think it would be you.”

By the end of the second day with your guitar, your whole body was sore and tired but you didn’t move to go back to your own room. Both doctors had given up on forcing you. You nearly ripped their heads off when they suggested you go to your house for a day or two, try to get some real rest. It was bad enough that they’d surrendered to your stubborn need to be where you could see Joel at all times, no longer willing to fight over what they thought was better for you. 

It was quiet, dark. You weren’t entirely sure what time it was but you thought everyone in town besides those on watch were at home. You were as close to home as you got now, home could only be where Joel was. You weren’t sure how to find home without him now. 

You played the song you’d written for him one more time, soft and slow, before propping the guitar against the wall and sitting delicately on the edge of the bed, careful to not disturb him. You adjusted his arms a bit, putting them where you knew he would rest them if he could move them on his own. You gently brushed his hair back. His patchy beard was getting long in spots and you wondered if Ellie could bring scissors and a razor the next time she came so you could trim it for him, keep it how he liked. You drew the shirt of his you wore tighter to yourself and just looked at him for a moment. He was so beautiful, even like this. You needed him so badly, needed him to be OK. You needed to be able to wake up next to him again, kiss him on your way out the door again, make love to him again. He couldn’t be gone, not now. Not like this.

“Joel,” you said softly, barely even a whisper. “I know… I know I should probably tell you that if you need to go, it’s OK, that we’ll be OK but… I don’t think I can. I don’t know how to do this without you, I don’t want to do this without you. I need you, I’m not sure I can be a real person without you. If you’re already gone then… then knowing you was one of the best things that ever happened to me and I’m thankful for every goddamn second of it. But if you’re still there, if you can hear me… I need you to come back to me, Joel. Just… please. Don’t leave me, don’t leave the girls, I just… I will do whatever you want, just stay. Just come back to me. Please.” 

He was still below your touch but you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead, anyway, his skin soft and warm. A tear slipped from your eyelash and fell to his cheek but you didn’t move to wipe it away. You had the odd thought that maybe he would absorb it, that his skin would soak up your salt and your sadness and then, even if he didn’t come back, at least he’d have part of you in him when you put him in the ground. You wondered if you’d be able to join him. You slid off the bed and tucked your legs up against yourself, crossing your arms atop the mattress and resting your head there, drifting off to the sound of his breathing. 

***

All Joel really knew was that he was somewhere warm and soft. Warm and soft and kinder than where he’d been before, though the memory of just before was fuzzy. He remembered you, waking up with you, being inside of you, kissing you goodbye. He remembered watching Ellie ride off with her friend for their patrol. He remembered laughing with his brother about something but didn’t remember what. Everything after that was a haze of blood and pain. 

But he was warm now, somewhere that was familiar but he was having a hard time placing it. Grass and trees and a park bench that was more comfortable than it had any right to be, the sound of birds and cicadas on the air. But there were no other people. None that he could see, anyway. 

He heard voices now and then. There were some he knew were familiar but he couldn’t quite place. Others he’d have known anywhere. You, Ellie, Savvy, Tommy, Maria. It was a haze, he could make out the tones and the melodies of your speech but not the words. But that was OK. He knew all of you were close and that was enough. 

There was music, too. He would have recognized your playing from anywhere but it still seemed so obvious from wherever he was. But your music sounded sad, some kind of longing in it that wasn’t there when you usually played for him. He wanted to fix it, wanted to come from wherever he was and make it better. He just wasn’t sure that he could. But he kept hearing the song you made for him. That song was clearer than any other, so present he almost thought it was the version of it you’d recorded for him. But it wasn’t followed by the words he’d come to know so well in the months without you, the ones you’d added to the end of the tape that he listened to every night since you left. Every night until the one you came back to him. 

Come back to me, Joel. 

“Dad?” 

Joel looked around for a moment, heart pounding. He knew that voice, had heard it inside his head so many times through the years. But never like this, never this close. And then Sarah was in front of him, her curls a halo around her head, skin almost glowing in the golden sun. 

“Baby girl.” 

He realized where he knew this place from. It was a park in Austin that he took her to all the time when she was a little girl. The skyline was at his back if he could turn to face it, a playground down the hill to the right. She’d loved the open field, though. She loved being able to just run and run and run with nothing to hold her back. He tried to make himself get to his feet but he couldn’t. She just smiled. It was warm, gentle but more knowing than he’d remembered it being. But then, maybe he’d forgotten. Because otherwise, she looked exactly the same as the last time Joel had seen her, down to the clothes. Except her purple shirt wasn’t bloodstained now, her ankle wasn’t hurt. She was whole, healthy, the way she always should have been.

“Long time no see,” she sat beside him on the bench and he was able to reach her then. He reached for her slowly, cautiously, but he didn’t need to worry. She reached back, putting her arms around his neck. He held her, close and tight. She was warm and soft but the heat wasn’t coming from her. Instead it was like she was part of the place where he was, warm like the sun. She pulled back from him before too long but left a delicate hand on his knee. He tried to memorize her, make sure he knew the precise constellations of her freckles and the way her lashes framed her eyes. She looked him over and smiled that beautiful smile of hers. “You’re getting old, old man.” 

“Yeah,” he laughed a little, still not sure what to say to her. “Yeah, I know, baby girl. I know.” 

“I’ve missed you,” she was still smiling but it was sadder now. “A lot.” 

“I’ve missed you too,” he said, his voice wet. “So, so much. You have no idea how much…” 

“I know,” she said. “I’ve seen. You’ve been through a lot, Dad. So much. I wish I could have been there, I wish I could have helped you.” 

“That’s not your job…” 

“I know,” she said again. “But I still wanted to.” 

“How are you?” He asked. “I want to know everything, everything…” 

“I’ve been good,” she smiled. “I met your friend Tess. I like her. I liked her before, too, but even more now. She’s a lot like you, I’m glad you had her.” 

“How…” 

“Dad, I would love to tell you everything,” she cut him off. “But we don’t have time.” 

He frowned. 

“No,” he shook his head. “No, we didn’t get enough time before, but we should now, we…” 

“We will,” she reached out and took his hands. “Eventually. But not yet. You’ve gotten old, old man, but not old enough. You’re not supposed to be here yet. You still have a lot to do. You have people who need you, people who love you. They really, really love you, Dad. You need to go back for them. You’ve been here long enough.” 

Don’t leave me.

He looked up, looking for where your voice was coming from. Sarah just smiled. 

“She needs you,” she said. “And you need her.” 

She was right. He could feel that in every inch of him. He wanted to be next to you, wanted the life that he could have with you that had been so close when he’d left Jackson that morning. Just you and him and your girls. He wanted it so much it hurt. But how could he leave his daughter? His baby girl, the first baby girl he’d held, the first one he’d failed. How could he leave her again?

“Baby girl, I love them, too but I can’t just leave you here alone…” 

She smiled gently. 

“I’m not alone, Dad. And it’s OK if I’m not your whole world anymore,” she gave his leg a squeeze. “It’s OK if you have another purpose. I want you to be happy. Her, Ellie, Savvy… they make you happy. They’re your purpose now. You deserve that. Go be happy. I’ll be here when you’re done. We’ll have time then, too. I promise.” 

Just stay. 

“Go be with them, Dad,” she said. “Go be happy. We’ll be together when it’s time.” 

Just come back to me.

“I love you so much, Sarah,” he said, reaching out and holding her face in his hand. “So, so much.” 

Please. 

“I know,” she smiled. “And I love you too.” 

There was a wet spot on his cheek but he wasn’t crying. He frowned, touching his skin there, a tear clinging to his finger when he pulled it away. The place he was glowed brighter. Sarah’s face was somehow further away though neither of them had moved. He could feel himself fading from here, going back to where he was before. Part of him hurt with that, clinging to Sarah so hard that it seemed as though he was going to leave that part of him behind. But the rest of him was bringing him back, desperate to get to you, be beside you. That’s where he was supposed to be. He knew that now. He was always supposed to live. He was always supposed to flinch. He was always supposed to find you. 

“I’ll see you around,” she said. “Take care of yourself. Take care of them. I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

He didn’t have a chance to say goodbye.

Everything hurt. 

It was sudden and sharp, the place where he was abruptly dark and cold. He wasn’t sure he could move much, every part of him impossibly heavy. But he forced his eyes open, at least. He was flat on his back and in a bed. It took him a moment to realize where, but the fact that there was medical equipment near his head narrowed it down. He heard a soft, sleepy sound and forced himself to lift his head enough to look for it. It didn’t take him long to find you there, head resting near his waist. He smiled to himself. Part of him was just relieved that he hadn’t dreamed you coming back to him, relieved that you’d want anything to do with him at all now. 

He forced his arm to move, the limb unnaturally clunky, every motion pulling and tugging on damaged skin but he didn’t really care. He rested a hand on your head, smoothing your hair down, thumb brushing against your forehead. You startled and jerked awake, sitting up quickly and blinking sleep from your eyes. His hand fell to your arm when you did and looked around for a moment before your eyes fell on him, the glow of the moon on the snow illuminating your face in the dark. You frowned for a moment, your brows knitting together. 

“Hey sweetheart,” Joel managed, his voice dry and cracking. 

“Joel!” You scrambled to your feet, taking his hand and clinging to it as you did. “You’re here, you’re alive, you’re…” 

“I’m alright, baby,” he said gently. You sank slowly onto the bed at his waist, clutching onto his hand. “You OK?” 

“I’m OK,” you nodded quickly, your voice wet. “Tommy’s OK, Ellie’s OK, we’re all OK. I was so afraid, Joel. I was so afraid. I thought you were gone, I thought I lost you…” 

“I know,” he winced as he reached the hand you weren’t latched onto over to cup your face. “I’m so sorry, baby. Wasn’t tryin’ to go anywhere…” 

You lifted his hand to your lips and kissed his knuckles before holding his arm to your chest, clinging to it like a child does to a security blanket. 

“How are you feeling?” You asked, looking him up an down. “I can go wake up a doctor and…” 

“M’fine sweetheart,” he said, brushing a thumb over the arch of your cheekbone. “Don’t… don’t go anywhere, need you close. Just…” He did his best to shift himself so he wasn’t in the middle of the bed, wincing as he did. “Just be here. Let me hold you, OK?” 

“I don’t want to hurt you…” 

“You won’t,” he said gently. “Need to feel you. Just stay with me, baby. Please.” 

You sniffed but nodded before you moved gingerly to slip into bed beside him. You lay your head gently on his chest and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, giving you a squeeze. It took a moment but he felt you relax against him, body molding to his own. He turned his head enough to brush his lips against your forehead. 

“I can’t lose you, Joel,” you said softly. “I can’t, I need you to stay.” 

“I’m here, baby,” he whispered, holding you as close as he could, everywhere your body met his a welcome distraction from the pain. “Not going anywhere.” 

Next Chapter

A/N: Yeah, sorry, I can't bring myself to kill Joel lol I love him too much, I need to let him have all the beautiful things he deserves to have.

Thank you so so much for being so patient with this chapter. I promise, I didn't intend to leave you hanging for weeks on end and I feel so bad that I did. Thank you for still reading and for being here. I feel like I've messed up a lot on how I've handled this fic lately - between not understanding how many folks didn't know the TLOU2 stuff and not giving proper warning and then posting that last chapter and not having this one lined up and ready to go - so thank you for not ditching me and this fic. It really does mean so much that you spend your time here with these characters.

Thank you again ❤️ Love you!

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[cherrygenshin]

Alone Time

Jujutsu Kaisen Masturbation Headcannons, drabbles, idk what to call them sorry lol

Characters: Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Toji Fushiguro

Warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, masturbation, sexting (gojo), Toji is a little pervy if you squint.

Smut Under The Cut!

Gojo Satoru

Has a relatively high sex drive, but won't jerk off unless he's on a mission/ can't be with you.

If/when he decides to jerk off, you WILL know about it.

It's a step by step process.

He will start by bombarding you with needy messages. 'I miss you', 'wish you were here', 'need my baby back :(('

Next comes the photos.

Photo 1. He's in bed, shirtless. You get a divine image of his sculpted abs, his lower torso unfortunately covered up by his blanket.

Photo 2. His hand creeping in to his underwear, the lighting of the photo just perfect enough to see his bulge.

Photo 3. Dick pic. He can't take it anymore, he has to show you how much he misses you! And what better way to do that then show you a photo of his long, pretty cock gripped in his digits?

After the photos, he'll call you. It's fine if you don't answer, he'll just leave you plenty of voice messages of him moaning, his breathless whimpers of your name coming through the phone as he desperately tries to reach his high.

And after that? You get the loveliest video, he squirts all over his hand and lower abs with a cry of your name. He turns the camera around to his flushed face, and ends the video with a quick 🤪✌️ because of course he does.

Geto Suguru

I don't picture this man having a super high sex drive, I feel like life gets in his way a lot of the time.

The only time he'd take matters in to his own hands is if you were asleep and he really couldn't get his boner to go away.

He debates for a while, going back and forth on if he should just wake you up, but he eventually decides not to bother you, your sleeping form was just too adorable for him to disturb with his own lustful needs.

He gets up and heads to the shower, stepping in to the hot water with a slight 'hiss'. Perhaps he was a bit too eagre to get this over with.

Resting a hand against the tiles, he closes his eyes and brings a hand down to his already hardened cock. He pumps his shaft a few times, before his eyes flit open in search of something.

There it is. Your bodywash. He reaches over and grabs it off the shelf, opening it and hastily pouring a glob on to his hands. He inhales sharply, the scent of you filling his nose before he takes his freshly 'lubed' hands back to his now leaking cock.

He fists himself fast and hard, not wanting to draw this out any longer than necessary. His mind wanders to you, how you would feel if you saw him right now. Would you be mad? Or maybe turned on? Maybe you would help him, and he'd get to stuff his cock in your tight hole..

The thought sends him over the edge as he cums with a deep sigh. He finishes the rest of his shower in post-nut shame, and quietly slides back in to bed with you.

The next morning you wonder why he somehow smells like you. Perhaps he grabbed your bodywash by mistake?

Fushiguro Toji

This man a certified daddy of 2, so I'm sure he's got a decent sex drive.

He doesn't really like jerking off if you're around as he'd rather just pound you, but when the need comes, who is he to deny himself of pleasure?

You were due home from work in 10 minutes. He'd been walking around with a hard on for the past 30, and he'd decided enough is enough.

Sitting himself down on the lounge, he pulls his sweatpants down just enough for his thick dick to spring out. He spreads his legs, enjoying the feeling of freedom.

He glances at the clock. Okay, 10 minutes until you're home. He could wait for you, but this has been pissing him off long enough.

He spits on to his dick and strokes it roughly, not caring about the slight sting of his calloused hands on his sensitive dick.

He grabs his phone and pulls up images of you, one's he's taken after he's filled your hole with his cum, one's of your fucked out face, and some sneaky ones of your panties while you weren't looking.

He grunts, hand gripping tighter as he strokes faster now, his high approaching quickly the more he looks at your photos.

"Fuck-" He heaves a heavy sigh, moving his hand to pay special attention to his tip. He tilts his head back and cums with a loud groan, shooting thick ropes on to his lower stomach.

He opens one eye as he notices you standing in the doorway, stunned.

"Hey mama, come over 'ere and clean this mess will ya? It's your fault after all."

[fruitcoops]

After Midnight

Annual pride fic is here! I hope everyone is staying safe, well, and hydrated :) Character credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

TW for alcohol/ light drunkenness/hangovers

July 1, 1:30 p.m.

“Jesus,” Remus mumbled. Pressure pinched his lower back, runching up his shirt; he dug a clumsy hand beneath himself and fumbled for his phone. It took a few moments to extract it, clamped between weak knuckles, but he managed. Handful of Twitter notifications, a text from his dad, an automatic calendar notification, sticky lips and—good god, did his hair really look that bad?

He tried to sit up and was met with an immediate (and wildly cranky) grumble from the concrete slab resting across his belly.

Remus sighed, and closed his eyes. Getting up was overrated. He didn’t even want to think about the state of the house.

June 30, 10:30 p.m.

“AYO AYO AYO!”

Kasey winced. “Christ, Harz, take some pity on my eardrums.”

“Hey, man, sorry—has anyone seen the margarita mix?”

“Side counter,” Remus noted, tipping his chin toward the kitchen. “By the sink.”

Finn’s face brightened. “Sick, thanks.”

“Gentle pours, please. Not everyone here has a college liver.”

“Please,” Finn snorted as he cracked a screw-top open. “You’re all in much better shape than those guys ever were. Knutty around?”

Remus shrugged and took another sip of his beer. He liked this kind—Sirius had picked well. “Went off somewhere with Reg. Probably gaming.”

Finn whistled through his teeth. “Not getting him back anytime soon, eh?”

“Oh, you bet,” Remus laughed.

July 1, 2:00 p.m.

“We should ban frat boys from the team.”

“Mmm.”

“All of them. Every one.”

“Mmm.”

“Or at least remove the—” Sirius paused to catch another mouthful of water directly from the faucet. For the first time in Remus’ memory, his glossy hair looked slightly dull and flat. “—lead weights from their hands, mon dieu, what did they put in there?”

“Hell. Burning, vicious, alcoholic hell.” He turned his head with utmost caution, and still felt a warning throb in the back of his skull. “I liked those ciders you picked up.”

Sirius groaned; Remus watched his forehead bump the side of the kitchen cabinet with a soft noise. “Don’t talk to me about cider right now. My tongue feels like I licked one of your sweaters.”

Remus frowned. “You like my sweaters.”

“That’s not…” Sirius straightened with a wince. Both hands remained braced on the marble. “The fuzzy stuff, it’s all in my mouth. Wool.”

Remus thought it was rather more like someone had packed his cheeks and sinuses full of cotton balls, but sharing that didn’t seem like the wisest choice. Nine hours of sleep. Dizziness still threatened every attempt at movement. The tap turned off and he heard Sirius’ footsteps approach; pressure compacted Remus’ ribs once more with a wobbly flop.

“I like this shirt,” Sirius mumbled into his left pec. His voice was thick—from his hangover or drowsiness or just giving up on English, Remus wasn’t sure. Knowing Sirius, it was a bit of all three. His stubble scratched gently over Remus’ collarbone, still damp from sticking his head in the sink. “Soft. Cute.”

“It’s one of yours.”

“Ah. I have good taste.”

“Clearly.”

The corner of Sirius’ mouth pulled up in a smile. “Hmm. Harzy and Tremz are going to be doing bag skates until their legs fall off.”

Remus snorted, trailing his fingertips through the squashed curls at Sirius’ nape. “Not to play frat boy’s advocate here, but in their very weak defense, I don’t think the punch alone did this.”

“Non. Margaritas.”

“I still think Lily poured extra in.”

“Ouais, prolab—probleb—oui. She did.”

A phone screen lit up in Remus’ periphery. He grabbed for it, stiff-fingered and extremely stuck beneath a lump of husband, and squinted into the bright light. “Pots says good morning, and that he’s going to go lay on the porch for a few hours. He loves you.”

“Mmph. Love, too.”

June 30, 11:25 p.m.

Sirius loved parties. He fucking loved them. This was the best night of his life. Second-best, after his wedding. Or third? He was happy when Harry was born. But no, his ribs were still broken then. That had to put it under tonight, because tonight was perfectly amazing and awesome, and James was his—

“You’re my favorite person,” he yelled over the music, leaning on James’ shoulder in case he didn’t hear. “I love you!”

“I love you, too!” James shouted back. His glasses had gone a bit sideways on his face. That was fine. Lily would totally fix those for him. She liked to kiss his nose, and she had once told Sirius that fixing James’ glasses made sure she got to do it. Sirius thought she might want to pick something that wasn’t so easily broken.

“Hey,” he continued with a pull to James’ shirtsleeve. “I kiss loup on the mouth.”

“I know!”

“And the cheek!”

“Why are you telling me things I already know?”

“Because Lily kisses your nose,” he explained. Maybe the music was too loud for James to understand. He looked confused. “And you can break your nose. But you can’t break your mouth or your cheeks.”

Finally, understanding dawned on James’ face. “Dude,” he said. “You’re so right. We gotta go tell her.”

July 1, 2:07 p.m.

Remus set Sirius’ phone down on his lower back and reached for his own, wiggling a little when his hips got stuck under Sirius’ torso. A displeased huff followed—he kissed the top of Sirius’ head in apology and let the popsocket slot between his fingers, just in case. He was so clammy all of a sudden.

You Have (4) New Messages From: Lion Den RAHH

everyone not dead sound off

breathing.

Technically alive. Wish I wasn’t.

who made the fucikgn margs

New Message To: Lion Den RAHH

Not dead. Margs were Harz and Lily. You fuckers need to clean up after yourselves.

He had just clicked his phone off when the screen went retina-blasting bright again. Remus let his head fall back against the armrest and immediately regretted it. It took an embarrassing amount of time to lift his head again without the room tilting sideways.

New Message From: Lion Den RAHH

Big words. Small brain. Still drunj

*drnuk

DTUNK.

Three gray dots scrolled, then vanished. Remus smiled to himself. The vindictive part of him was glad to see they weren’t the only ones in Pride-induced misery.

New Message From: Lion Den RAHH

Some1 help knutty is snorng like a fucking chainswa

Remus glanced down. “Did you know Knutty snores?”

“In planes.”

The shallow rhythm of Sirius’ breathing flexed the shirt across his back. Remus gave an appreciative rub along the valley of his spine and felt him arch into it. “Aw,” he cooed. “My poor little hungover lion cub.”

“Nooo,” Sirius protested weakly.

“Poor baby. How will you survive.”

“At least you don’t snore.”

“True.”

“Is Harzy suffering?”

“As much as he can while he’s in bed on a Saturday with his boyfriends.”

“Good.”

July 1, 12:15 a.m.

“Bonjour, hi, hi.”

An arm caught him around the waist—Remus stumbled, but within half a step he had been gathered up against a warm, familiar chest. “Oh, hey,” he hummed, dopey even to his own ears. “Missed you.”

Sirius might have returned the sentiment, but Remus didn’t hear it through the buzz in his veins and the stutter of his heart when Sirius’ mouth found his own. He staggered backward with a sharp inhale and let Sirius carry their momentum. His back hit the wall; Sirius sighed into his lips when Remus dragged a hand through the top of his hair.

He tasted like oranges when Remus bit his lower lip. “Yum.”

“Love you,” Sirius said, smiling. Their foreheads bumped and Remus pushed into it. He was rewarded with another kiss that turned his ankles to loose jello. “Non, non, don’t leave.”

“Mmm, I’m not going anywhere,” he promised through a grin.

His eyes closed as Sirius’ mouth trailed over his cheek and jaw, then down to suck at his neck. “Should’ve done this earlier.”

Teeth grazed his skin with each word; Remus shivered despite the warm night. “Yeah?”

“Before the parade.” The sway of Sirius’ accent did unholy things to his heart. Stubble teased his skin when Sirius nudged under his chin. “That way everyone could see.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Remus breathed.

July 1, 3:45 p.m.

“Did you drown?”

Sirius glared at him across the bedroom, playful and foggy. Remus grinned and took a swig of Gatorade.

“You look like you did.”

“How are you rebounding?” Sirius grumbled.

Water droplets stuck to the mirror with each scrub of the towel through his hair. He’d left it longer than usual in the postseason, fluffy around his ears and neck. Remus was inclined to keep it that way as long as he could. He met Sirius’ gaze in the mirror and took another pointed sip. “Our lady of blessed electrolytes.”

“…give it.”

July 1, 1:30 a.m.

Sweat and glitter burned crystalline in the glow of multicolored LEDs. Sirius wasn’t sure where—or who—the glitter had come from, but finding one culprit in this crowd would be a losing battle, and one that required him to stand up. There was no way in hell he was leaving this perfect place.

Remus’ eyelashes threw shadows over his freckles when he blinked. “Do you think they’ll start leaving soon?”

“I’ve been hoping since midnight.”

His laugh was everything. Quieter at first, a mischievous snicker blooming loud at the end. Sirius let his eyes fall shut when Remus leaned over. His temple nestled against Sirius’ forehead. “Hi.”

The seam of his jeans rippled under Sirius’ fingertip. His quad flexed, and Sirius felt the weight in his lap grow heavier while Remus settled in. “Hey.”

“Proud of you.”

Sirius pressed his smile to a blush-warm cheek. God, he loved how pink Remus turned on nights like this. “I love you.”

It only took a minute adjustment, and they were kissing. He kept it soft and long and chaste, more a series of small pecks brought together by their closeness than anything. The tip of Remus’ nose was cool on the bridge of his own. He nibbled the corner of that grin and tasted bright apple-sugar, chasing it with a flick of tongue.

“You’re bad,” Remus murmured with audible delight, twisting slightly. He hardly went far—most of his weight rested on Sirius’ chest and he came closer without hesitation when Sirius tugged on his hips. His golden eyes flashed in the sudden transition from hot pink to blue lining their walls. “We have company.”

“So did Dumo.” Sirius kissed the roundness of his lower lip. “When we won the Cup.”

“We can’t throw a fuckin’ Pride party and then sneak off in the middle of it. It’s cliché.”

“If this is the middle, I’m sneaking off to sleep in an hour, and you can decide to join me or not.”

Remus’ laugh was loud all the way through, this time.

July 1, 6:00 p.m.

The groupchat had grown steadily more active as the hours passed and more of their friends were revived from their howling, sharp-toothed hangovers. Remus, for his part, had already sworn off alcohol six times in the past four hours. He hadn’t been left this hard-over since his junior year of college.

A gust of wind blew in from one of the many open windows and ruffled his shirt. Remus grimaced. “I still smell like a distillery.”

Sirius (who, despite his whinging, had recovered rather fast) sniffed the air. “Ouais.”

“Thanks, baby.”

“Worth it, though.”

Remus gave him a sideways look. “Was it?”

Sirius glanced up and frowned, then set his slice of pizza down. “I liked the party.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” One of his broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “It was nice, having people around. The parade was fun. Kind of busy.” He took another bite, tipping his head back and forth thoughtfully even as a gentle blush colored his neck. “I like showing you off.”

Remus liked to think he had grown accustomed to Sirius’ sweetness—to his big heart and kind words, both of which were reserved for a select few that somehow included Remus. Yet he constantly found himself left speechless, cast far out to sea by the sheer honesty Sirius saved for him.

He stretched a leg out under the table and tangled their ankles together. “Love you.” Remus tilted his chin vaguely toward the window. “Here, and out there. For us and them.”

“We should have more parties,” Sirius said by way of an answer. The blush had risen to his ears. His foot ran along the length of Remus’ shin.

“Okay.”

“I want to see everyone, and I want to love you so they know it.”

Remus’ face hurt from keeping his smile from drifting too close to utter lunacy. “Okay.”

“We should ban glitter next year.” Sirius nodded to himself, then nudged Remus’ foot. “And frat boys.”

“They’re gay frat boys, though. They have a right.”

The bridge of Sirius’ nose wrinkled. Fucking adorable. “Well, maybe they just need to pick a side.”

“Lily was partially responsible for the biohazard margaritas,” Remus pointed out, picking a piece of pepperoni off Sirius’ slice and adding it to his own.

“She’s out, too.” Sirius jabbed his pizza at him. “And you’re on thin fucking ice, thief.”

“I’ll pick her party over yours.”

“You can’t pick your best friend over the person you’re gay married to. It’s Pride.”

Remus stole another pepperoni, dodging the smack of Sirius’ hand. “Then I’ll get gay married to Lily.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Any marriage I’m in is a gay one,” Remus informed him, slouching lower in his seat to hook his calf around Sirius’. “I can gay marry anyone I want. I’ll gay marry a dozen people and go to all their parties over yours. Ha-ha-ha.”

Sirius flicked a piece of pineapple at him; it bounced off his chin, and while he was distracted, Sirius stole one of his pepperonis back with a triumphant grin. “Fine. See if any of them put up with you like I do.”

“Thief.”

A foot poked Remus in the back of the knee. “Doesn’t count if it was already mine.”

[heartss4matthewq]

NOTHING TURNS TO SOMETHING (pt.1)

Summary: You’ve known chris your whole life. When he gets a girlfriend you are happy for him, right?

Warnings: fluff, dom!chris, fem!reader,

—————————

CHRIS POV

7:00 PM

“matt hurry the fuck up we gotta pick up mya” i said.

mya is my girlfriend. we recently got together and our 6 month is coming up so i decided to take her out for dinner. We’ve been arguing a little more recently. I thought this would be a nice gesture.

“yo why don’t you shut the fuck up and get your drivers license then maybe you could pick her up yourself!” matt yells

“bro can you guys stop arguing, matt you do need to hurry up though chris doesn’t wanna be late” nick says

“wait mya’s calling me hold on” i said answering her call.

📞

“hey”

“hey, what’s up?”

“soo i kinda cant make it tonight..”

“what? why?” i said clearly upset

“well you know zack right? my best friend?”

“yeahhh…?”

“well he’s coming over cause’ like he called me and asked if i was busy but i kinda told him no and i missed him because we haven’t seen eachother since like….october so yeah sorry”

i heard her start..laughing? was she already with him?

“uh that’s fine i guess, i just thought we could have a night to ourselves”

“yeah well sorry but goodnight, bye chris.” she hung up on me.

📞

well what the fuck.

—————————

Y/N POV

8:08 PM

i was about to fall asleep when i got a text from chris

i’ve always said i was happy for chris and mya but was i?

i have had a crush on chris since i was little.

i know it’s bad and i truly am happy he found someone but, why couldn’t it be me?

8:30 PM

“bro lowkey mya’s a bitch don’t mind her” matt says to chris

“yeah exactly i mean i’m not tryna dawg on her but why would she do that if she knew you wanted to do this tonight??” i said sounding annoyed.

“yeah i don’t know guys i’ll just talk to her tomorrow morning, i mean she hasn’t seen him for a while.” chris wants to make the situation sound better.

“yeah you fucking better” nick says emerging from his room.

a couple hours pass and we had just been playing games and laughing until…

—————————

CHRIS POV

“guys myas calling!!” i said laughing a little.

📞

“i think we should talk” my face immediately drops

“uh about what??”

“we need to break up.”

“what?” i said clearing my throat

“i said we should break up.” she says firmer than before

“why, i thought we were okay?”

“well we aren’t, plus zach doesn’t like you so..” she trails off

“so that’s it? we’re done like that?”

“i mean yeah, that’s what i said.”

silence.

“also i’ve been sleeping with zach for 3 months”

“what?” i said angry and upset

“yeah, love ya, peace out chrissy”

📞

—————————

Y/N POV

everyone has fallen asleep by this point except me and chris.

we all tried comforting him but nothing seemed to work.

“it’s okay chris, it isn’t your fault she’s a self centered bitch” i said wiping his cheeks.

“yeah but what if i wasn’t giving her what she wanted. and she said she was sleeping with zach for 3 months” he said through sobs

“she did FUCKING what??”

“yeah, i know. what if i’m bad at sex and she just hates me because i couldnt give her what she wanted”

“chris i’m sure you’re good at sex and she’s just talking out of her ass, i bet zach can’t even make her cum” i said laughing

“yeah, maybe”

an awkward silence fills the room

“can i show you that i’m good at sex?”

———————————————————————

[raydiant-moon]

Hey everyone! Here's another story that I thought of. I also just thought I'd let everyone know that I will try to upload a story or cute little oneshot daily. Feel free to ask for a oneshot if you have suggestions!

Dare...

Frat boy suguru x f!reader

Also, just for this alternate universe, there is no jujustu sorcery, and all of the boys fall under the same age ish. This would obviously also be a college au.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Synopsis: At yet another one of the silly parties, saturo gojo hosts, suguru was found stuck in a game of truth or dare. The dare? Make you fall in love with him and bed you by the end of the night.

Cw: NSFW, MDNI, smut, pv penetration, consensual sex, praise, missionary, slight size difference, fem! Reader, fingering, tit sucking, cum, protection, angst to fluff, pet names (pretty girl).

Let me know if I missed anything. Besides that, enjoy!

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

The music was loud, too loud. The beer, weed, and other kinds of drugs and alcohol really made the place smell like shit.

Suguru was slightly buzzed from the weed. He wouldn't even try to touch the beer. It tasted cheap and disgusting.

Satoru was beaming and chatting it up with everyone he knew, the life of the party indeed. That was Gojo.

Nanami sat in the corner and didn't really talk with anybody. To be honest, he only joined the frat to get Gojo to leave him alone.

Toji had been betting with people that he could beat them in arm wrestling competitions and who could chug a beer the quickest. He was making bank, but knowing him, he'd go and blow all the next day.

Then there was Sukuna and Choso. They conversed between each other. Suguru couldn't quite remember at the moment how they knew each other so well. Distant relatives, or something like that.

Suguru laid his head back on the couch, wanting nothing more than this party to be over. He had a pounding headache and was absolutely exhausted. He looked at the clock on the wall. 10:30 p.m. this party was just getting started.

Knowing Gojo, he'd keep it going to midnight or to 1 in the morning, and if the cops showed up, no big deal! He knew how to talk himself out of any situation. Suguru just didn't want to deal with the officers, again.

Sugure felt the cushion next to him dip a little as the frat boys began to all sit in a circle with him. It was then that Satoru slung his arm around Suguru.

"Let's spice things up a bit between us, shall we? I've had enough chit chatting. Let's play some truth or dare."

Gojo suggested with a playful tone as he observed the reactions of the boys around them. To his surprise, everyone agreed. Even Suguru.

The game went back and forth, Suguru ended up having to drink, and Nanami was forced to remove his glasses and let Gojo wear them. Nanami wasn't very happy about that one.

Until finally Sukuna smirked and looked at Suguru.

"Truth or dare?"

He asked. His voice came out in a low rumble. Almost antagonizingly so.

"Dare. You should know this by now, Sukuna."

Sukuna let out a low chuckle at his response. He thought for a moment as he looked around the room. Sukuna's eyes met your timid form, next to your supposed best friend, who now just walked away with her boy toy of the night.

He smirked and looked back at Suguru.

"I dare you to fuck her by the end of the night, and make her fall for you by the next day, if you don't, you owe all of us 20 dollars. Deal?"

Suguru seemed appalled at sukuna's suggestion, but he'd already chickened out of one dare before that. He couldn't chicken out again, and he didn't necessarily want to pay all of them 20 dollars each.

He sighed and flipped Sukuna off, which Sukuna just shrugged and chuckled at. Suguru really didn't want to play with anyone's feelings, even yours, but a dare was a dare.

Suguru stood and began to make his way over to your timid form. The party almost looked like it overwhelmed you, you poor thing. As he got closer, he gently put a hand on your shoulder and looked you in the eyes with a smile.

"Hey, I'm Suguru Geto, and who might you be?"

His voice was soft and reassuring in the crowd of raving college students. You raised your voice a bit so that Suguru could hear you.

"I'm y/n. It's nice to meet you Suguru."

Suguru chuckled at the slight raise in her voice and tried to usher her out of the corner she was in to take her into the less crowded back yard.

"Sorry, it's a little loud in here. Let's go somewhere we can talk better."

You nodded and followed Suguru. You had heard all about him. The tall, dark-haired, sexy, kind man who joined the fraternity for his best friend. He seemed nice enough to be around. He seemed that way.

"It's nice to meet you too y/n, sorry it's quite the ruckus in their. Satoru really knows how to throw a party."

He chuckled and eyed you up and down. The little black dress that your friend had picked out for you rode up your thighs each time you took a step, and with each step, you tried to shimy it back down.

"He sure does."

You laughed back, then silence overcame the two of you. You weren't entirely extroverted. You only truly liked talking to those you knew. Suguru was about the same way, that's why he had Datoru around to do all the talking.

"So, I saw you were in my calculus class. Been pretty interested in you for a while."

He said and watched your face to see your reaction. That's what Suguru knew how to do best. Watch reactions. He was an observer, not a talker.

"Oh yeah! I've seen you in the back with Satoru. The teacher doesn't seem to like you two too much."

You giggled. You completely skipped over his previous statement. Was he interested in you? You must've heard wrong. So glazing over it was the best idea.

Suguru noticed your attempt to ignore his previous statement, so jntead he just goes along with what your talking about.

"Huh? No way, it's definitely Satoru he doesn't like that much. All he does is chatter. I can't control him, he's like a tornado."

You laugh at Suguru placing a good chunk of the blame on Satoru before you look up into his eyes. Those sweet purple eyes, hus hair pulled so nicely into a bun, one strand of hair just dangling on the side of his face.

You have an urge to brush it to the side of his face, but ignore it.

That's what leads you to his lips. They have a slight hint of pink to them. They were slightly parted in a way that felt inviting. You wanted to kiss him after all this was a party, you didn't have to catch feelings, right?

Suguru cleared his throat as he noticed your gaze on him, observing him. He felt himself blush a bit. Slightly embarrassed at you observing him.

You look up at him again and give him an awkward smile.

"Sorry, you're just so... handsome."

Your face flushes. You meant to call him handsome, but hearing yourself say it out loud was different than how you had thought you'd say it in your mind.

He chuckles at your flushed features and slowly reaches out, brushing a straightened hair out of your face. His hand cupped your cheek longer, and he looked into your eyes.

"And you're so gorgeous, pretty girl."

He said in a low tone as his gaze obviously dropped to your lips. You couldn't help but lean into him a little more.

His touch was warm and inviting. You just couldn't help yourself, and as your lips collided with his, you couldn't help that either.

Both of his hands go your waist and pull you closer to him. Your arms wrap around his neck and you close your eyes enjoying the heat of the moment.

Neither of you wanted to stop. It was too euphoric for the both of you. Only pulling away for seconds of air.

Soon, the heated kiss turned into a heated make-out. His tongue swiped your bottom lip, asking to enter.

You let out a low moan and open your mouth for him, and the kiss becomes tongue and teeth. Heated. Each of you wanting more.

That's when you feel it. The bulge in Suguru' pants. You push away from him a little as he tries to chase your lips, instead settling for your neck.

"Suguru, maybe we should take this somewhere more private."

Suguru just groans into your neck and nods. He gently pulled away from you as he blushed gently at the raging boner he had. Just from kissing you, too.

He silently leads you through the house, the party still going. The time, 12 a.m. Suguru had 30 minutes to get you into the bed and fuck you before he lost the dare.

Sukuna and the other boys were still sitting on the couches in a circle. As Suguru walked past them with you, he made sure Sukuna saw you both headed for the stairs. He wouldn't lose this dare.

You both made it to Suguru's room, and as soon as the door was shut and locked, he pounced on you again. Kissing your neck and biting on your collar bone gently. He fumbled with your shurt to get it over your head.

You worked on his shirt and tried to get the buttons undone while not getting distracted by the feeling of his lips on your hot skin.

You succeeded in getting his shirt off, but suguru was already trying to shimy your pants down your hips. You did tour best to help him get them off of you, and you worked on the button of his pants.

He gently slapped your hand away before wrapping his hands under your thighs and carrying you to the bed and gently laying you down.

He towered over you and looked tou in the eyes, his hair a little more disheveled, his eyes filled with lust.

"I need you to tell me you want this pretty girl. I need to tell me that this is okay."

He said as he ran a gentle hand up your side.

"And if you don't want this, I need you to say that right now."

He ran his hand all the way up and gently cupped the side of your face again. He didn't want you to feel forced, but he needed to beat Sukuna's dare.

You nodded as you looked into his eyes, and with a reassuring smile.

"Yes, I want this Suguru. I'm yours tonight."

That's all Suguru needed to hear before he reached behind you and uncapped your bra, and slid your panties down and off of you.

Your body was gorgeous to him. He ran his hands all over your curves and kissed your neck again.

"You're so perfect, angel. So pretty, just for me."

His praises hit your ears like a soft melody on a piano. Just right.

You groaned a bit and bucked your hips up into his. He took his hand and gently pressed your hips back down.

"Patience, pretty girl, I have to get you prepares to take this cock."

He whispered in your ear. He dragged his fingers up and down your folds collecting your slick before gently pushing two inside of you.

You grabbed his shoulders and closed your eyes, letting out a wanton moan. His fingers felt amazing. They reached all of the right places. You couldn't imagine what his cock would feel like.

He began to slowly move his fingers in and out if you while leaning down and taking one of your tips into his mouth and sucking gently.

You moaned again and arched your back into him, almost offering up yourself for him to have. To take.

Your fingers found their way to his hair, and you began to take out his bun. After you ran your fingers through his long, silky hair.

"Oh, Suguru."

You moaned his name so prettily. He increased the speed of his fingers inside of you, and his eyes looked up at you to watch you.

Your eyes were closed, back arched, and your delicate hands were placed in his hair. This was almost heavenly. Suguru could fall for you.

You began to rock your hips into his fingers and moan louder and louder. That familiar knot in your stomach beginning to come undone.

You began to whimper and moan more.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, suguru, I'm cuming!"

He leaned in and began to whisper soft praises in your ear to talk you through it.

"It's alright, pretty girl, let go for me, cum on my fingers."

With that, you did. You came all over Suguru's fingers. Throwing your head back, you were in bliss. You trembled as you came down from your high, and Suguru cooed at you and helped you come down.

"You did so amazing, pretty girl. You think youre ready for my cock?"

He asked as he shimmeid himself out of his pants and boxers, and what you saw made your jaw drop.

He looked like he was close to 8 and a half inches. He was huge. And his swollen tip leaked with pre-cum. He pumped himself a few times as you continued to gawk at his size.

"Don't worry, pretty girl, you can take it."

He reached over to the nightstand and opened up the drawer before grabbing a condom and opening up the package. He rolled the rubber onto himself before finally lining himself up with you.

He reached over and laced his fingers with yours his eyes found yours and with a gentle gaze he leaned down and kissed you just as gently.

"Just tell me to stop and I will. I promise."

He began to slowly slide himself in, and he groaned at how tight you were around him.

"Fuck, pretty girl, you feel so damn good."

You squirmed a little at the slight pinch you felt as he began to sink deeper and deeper into you. This wasn't the first time you've had sex, but he was so damn big, you could've forgotten about all of the previous times.

He finally bottomed out and groaned at the feeling as he leaned his head into the crook of your neck.

As soon as he got used to the feeling of you around him, he began to slowly rock his hips into you. It felt orgasmic just as it was.

Your mouth opened into an o-shape as moans slipped out involuntarily. Your hands gripping his as he continued to rock into you.

"Fuck you're so perfect. Don't wanna let you go, don't wanna stop."

He mumbles into you as he picks up his pace, he was already feeling so close, and you were already feeling overstimulated from your previous orgasm. So when he begins to mumble he's about to cum you're already ahead of him, your vision going white as you came around him again.

He came into the condom and stilled. He grunted and kissed your neck a bit more before he finally pulled out of you. He tied off the condom and threw it into the garbage can next to his bed.

He gently rubbed his hands down your body before getting up and grabbing a warm rag to clean you up.

He almost wished thisbwasnt just a dare.

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That night, you had left with your best friend and went back to your shared apartment, and you couldn't get Suguru out of your mind.

Even you had told yourself no strings attached, but you couldn't help but find yourself trying to call him and text him after he gave you his number.

He never did answer so you decided to try to corner him after calculus.

"Suguru,"

You called out to him before he was about to leave, and Suguru guiltily turned around to face you.

"Can we talk?"

He looked at the ground nervous but nodded, telling a snickering Satoru to go on ahead.

"Look, I know that it was just supposed to be a one night stand or whatever, but I can't help but feel something was actually there."

You explain as you looked into his violet irises. The only gaze you're met with is a guilty one, though.

"Y/n... I didn't want to have to tell you, but it was a dare from Sukuna... he told me to sleep with you and make you fall for me."

Your heart had stopped. A dare? You couldn't believe the audacity, but then again, could you even be mad? It was supposed to be a one night stand.

He tried to reassure you and reached out for your hands. You take a step back from him and even he feels hurt.

"But y/n. I feel like there is something here, too. I don't want you to think that because of some stupid dare, there is nothing here because there is something."

"How do I know you're not lying to me?"

You asked, and you looked up at him with watery eyes. You didn't want to be hurt. You honestly enjoyed what was between you two that night. It felt honest, it felt real, it felt like love.

"Let me prove it to you. I saw there was a new movie coming to theaters tonight. If you'll accompany me, I'd like to make it a date."

He said and stepped towards you again and reached for your hands. This time, you let him take your hands in his. When you looked up to meet his gaze, all you could see was sincerity, honesty, love.

So you nod.

"I'll go, but this better not be another one of these stupid dares."

Suguru chuckled as he wiped a few stray tears you hadn't even noticed roll down your cheeks.

"Never, never again, pretty girl. I love you too much to waste what we have on a dare."