#sigh $13 isn’t enough to get by

[rafesangelita]

♡ what was supposed to be a fun evening with sarah, turned into a fun evening with rafe instead..

warnings: best friend’s brother, heavyyy flirting, teasing, tiny game of truth or dare, heavy petting, slight dry humping, unprotected sex, squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation

a/n: mini series masterlist can be found here. all notes and reblogs are deeply appreciated!

wc: 2.7k

[7:13 PM] sarah <3: sorry babes something came up so i won’t be back home till later. i’ll see you!

you stared down at the text, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. so much for watching the sunset on the druthers. you typed a quick response, about to turn around and make your way back home before the front door opened. “you trying to break in, y/n?” rafe gave you a once-over, his eyes lingering on your slightly exposed cleavage. you swallowed, shaking your head. “no, i was just leaving actually.” you smiled softly, your cheeks heating at his intimidating stare.

“why don’t you stay?” he moved over, pushing the door wide open. “i better not, sarah isn’t here—” he stepped out. “she never is, she’s too busy playing poor girl on the other side of the island.” you raised your eyebrows at this. “what do you mean?” you laughed, giving him your full attention. rafe gasped, obviously taunting you at how clueless you were. “she didn’t tell you? she’s seeing some guy named john b and hanging out with all of his friends,” rafe leaned in, “kie included.” he towered over you, the height difference enough to make any girl nervous.

focusing back on his words, you were quick to shut him down. “her and kie haven’t talked in years, that makes no sense? and she’s with topper, why on earth would she be seeing someone else?” without telling me about it, you wanted to add. “beats me.” he shrugged, swinging an arm around your shoulders, walking both of you inside. “what did you two have planned?” he kicked the door shut, leading you to the living room. “uhm, we were gonna watch the sun go down on the druthers.” you put your backpack down, rafe taking a seat in front of you.

“that’s the girliest shit i ever heard.” you rolled your eyes, stepping away from him. “of course you’d say that, your idea of fun includes getting drunk and jumping off rooftops.” rafe threw his head back in laughter. “look at you! if i would’ve known you had a mouth on you, i’d provoke you more.” you couldn’t help laughing along, shaking your head as you looked down at your phone. “well it’s kind of pointless now, the sun sets in like fifteen minutes,” you sighed, “i’m gonna head out now, tell sarah to give me a call?” rafe stopped you just as you were picking up your bag.

“i could take you on the druthers..” you paused, quickly declining. “no, don’t worry about it! me and sarah could always save it for another day.” you waved him off, rafe shooting up from the couch. taking your bag from the floor, you followed rafe outside, who ignored every advance of yours to get your bag back. “rafe! really it’s fine please give me my stuff.” you two walked down the dock, rafe turning around to face you. “sarah isn’t going to uphold any plans with you, just get on the boat.” he stepped on first, extending a hand.

“will you give me my bag if i do?” you watched as rafe tossed it behind him. “yeah, but you’re going to have to get on in order to get it.” you smiled, your heart racing as your eyes danced with his shiny blue ones. you took his hand, jumping onto the boat. rafe held onto you a couple seconds longer before starting it up. you’ve been on the druthers plenty of times before, your favorite spot being on the deck, out looking the water. you two fell into a comfortable silence as rafe guided the boat further out, the wind blowing through your hair.. and a little through your sundress.

you looked up, rafe not moving his eyes from where you sat. a part of you felt like you’d regret this later, but you couldn’t find it in you to care enough. slowly bunching up the fabric of your dress, you shivered as it slipped down your hips, and soon enough down your legs. obviously, you were wearing a bikini underneath, but it didn’t stop rafe from swiping his bottom lip with his tongue. minutes later, rafe stepped down, the boat coasting slowly in the marsh. “i guess this isn’t so bad.” rafe grabbed a beer from inside the deck, taking the cap off with his teeth.

“you want one?” he gestured the bottle towards you, scoffing when you shook your head. “that’s gross, no thanks.” you crossed your arms over your chest, your profound confidence dwindling away with each second he stood next to you. as if sensing how shy you were becoming, he handed you the beer, discarding his shirt, revealing to you his perfect physique. god, this was so wrong. here you were, with your best friends brother, both of you in nothing but flimsy pieces of clothing, watching the sunset. “just take a sip.” he sat down, pulling you next to him. “rafe-” he cut you off, “come on, what can one swig do?” he leaned in, his breath fanning your cheeks.

“come on, for me?” that should’ve been the last possible reason to drink, but you found yourself doing it anyways, immediately clearing your throat of the bitter taste. rafe laughed, taking a drink right after you. maybe it was because your lips were just wrapped around the same rim, but watching rafe drink from the same glass as you made your stomach flip in excitement. drawing your attention away from him, you looked at the sky, the orange and purple hues casting a beautiful glow out on the water. “sarah’s missing out right now.” you heard rafe say. “i know, it’s beautiful out here.” you smiled.

“yeah, it is.” he kept his eyes on you, his fingers coming out to move your hair out of your face. you glanced at him, taking the beer. “i guess we could share it now.” you shrugged. he nodded, his hand settling on your thigh. you don’t know why you felt like a giddy school girl talking to her crush for the first time, because you definitely weren’t, you were just two years younger than rafe. “truth or dare?” rafe leaned in closer now, his breath fanning your neck. going with the safe option as always, rafe shook his head when you muttered ‘truth’.

“you’re boring.” he tilted his head at you as you hit his shoulder playfully. “no, i’m not. there’s just not many dares you can do on a boat.” you laughed. rafe took his time admiring your rather soft features. he liked the natural shape of your cupid’s bow on your lips, he especially liked how flustered you became once you caught him staring. “there’s a lot of things you can do on a boat.” his voice dropped a few octaves, your breath stuttering lightly. rafe wasn’t a stranger, you knew where he was heading with this, but you didn’t want him to stop.

“okay.. dare.” you watched rafe’s eyes light up, your chest swelling with pride. he looked around, “i dare you to show me what you have in your bag.” rafe watched you get up, staring at your ass when you bent down to grab your backpack from the corner. “alright..” you unzipped it slowly, plopping it down on his lap. “charger, toothbrush, hair brush, pajamas, socks-” rafe grabbed something at the bottom, holding them up to you. “and these?” he ran his thumb over the pink lace, a smug grin adorning his lips. “rafe!” you screamed, reaching out to snatch your underwears.

he got up, putting his arm in the air so you couldn’t reach them. jumping while wearing a bikini that barely did anything to support your tits wasn’t the smartest idea, but neither was letting rafe hold your panties. “rafe, seriously!” you laughed, both of you stumbling inside the lower part of the boat. he pushed you softly, enough for you to flop down on the couch with a huff. holding your face in your hands, you sighed in defeat. “this is embarrassing, please give them back.” rafe replied with a quick, ‘alright, alright.’ before making you look up at him. stuffing the lacy material in his pocket, he got closer to you, your face practically lined up with his waistline.

“get them.” rafe’s stared at you intensely as you hesitantly reached into his pocket, your heart pounding at the compromising position. refusing to look straight ahead at his navel, you closed your eyes, pausing when you felt the slight touch of something really hard. rafe hissed, his hand cupping your chin aggressively. “i-i’m sorry!” you attempted to get up, rafe pushing you down before you could go anywhere. “i know you’re not stupid,” he hovered above you, his large arms caging you in. “i didn’t mean to,” you scrambled, trying to get your words out so you didn’t look like such a mess.

“i was just trying to—”

“i wanted you to do that.” rafe ran a finger down your jaw, pecking your chin as you rubbed your thighs together at his revelation. “what?” you looked up at him, doe eyed and flustered. “what?” he mocked your voice, laughing darkly. “do you really think i’m gonna fall for that innocent shit?” rafe shook his head. “what are you talking about?” playing dumb was the last bit of reserve you had left. without warning, he cupped your pussy, making you let out a yelp as he pushed your bottoms to the side to run his fingers between your folds. “this is what i’m talking about.” rafe held up his fingers, your wetness glistening under the soft yellow lighting of the boat.

“you don’t have to be ashamed about it.” you watched as rafe took his fingers into his mouth. “sweet just like i thought.” he licked his lips. “i like this too, can’t you feel what you’re doing to me?” rafe ground his short-clad erection right where you needed him most, both of you moaning at the friction. like an icecream cone in the middle of summer, you felt yourself melting away into nothing as rafe trailed kisses up your neck, finally settling on your lips. you were hesitant, but kissed him back nonetheless, your hands coming up to rest on both sides of his face.

“wait,” you stopped him, “we can’t do this rafe.” the guilt was already eating you alive, what kind of best friend were you?. “says who?” he adjusted himself between your legs, leaning his weight on your lower half. your eyes fluttered shut, your clit pressing against the bulge in his cargo’s. “if this is about sarah, you shouldn’t have to worry about nothing, do you really think she’d care after all this time? she’s focused elsewhere.” he whispered in your ear, stroking your hair as he did so. “don’t worry about her, alright?” you nodded, all self control leaving your body once rafe pulled down the flimsy straps of your top, revealing the prettiest set of tits he’s ever seen.

“fuck,” he sat back on his heels admiring you underneath him, “how come we haven’t done this sooner?” he picked up your leg, landing a kiss on your ankle. fingers working at the strings of your bottoms, you couldn’t help shying away from him now that you were fully naked before him. “getting shy?” you watched with labored breaths as rafe unbuttoned his shorts, swallowing nervously when you saw his cock straining against his boxers. “no,” you whispered, sitting up to kiss him again. your heart beamed when you felt him smile against your lips, both of you moving eagerly as he pulled you onto his lap, dragging your hips against his hard on.

rafe couldn’t believe this was finally happening. one day, you were his sister’s best friend, strictly off limits, and now that sarah pretty much fucked up your friendship, he had you practically writhing with need. “please,” hearing you beg for his cock was rafe’s new favorite song, the urge to fuck you to tears becoming this primal desire. he didn’t care that he didn’t have any condoms, and he liked that you didn’t seem to care either. pulling you against his chest, rafe wrapped an arm around your waist, the other hand guiding himself to your entrance.

“you sure?” he gazed into your eyes, waiting for any kind of hesitation. answering his question, you lowered yourself onto his cock, gasping at the unfamiliar stretch. rafe cursed, both of you staying still for a moment. “you feel so fucking good,” he blinked, looking up at the ceiling as you took hold of his shoulders, leaving kisses on his chest until you clenched around him, a strangled sound leaving his mouth. “please fuck me, rafe.” you whined, your head falling onto his shoulder. with a kiss to your temple, he held you in place, thrusting up into you. you cried out, rafe grunting with every stroke of your soaked pussy.

you couldn’t imagine how ridiculous you probably looked right now. with rafe fucking you at an unforgiving pace, you felt like you’d bounce off of him at any moment. “goddamnit, y/n,” he slowed down, his chest falling and rising with each breath, “i don’t think i ever want to stop.” rafe laughed, his tongue circling around your nipple, the added pleasure making you mewl. “l-let me-” you couldn’t get the rest of the words out, instead you got up, pushing rafe down so he was laying flat on the couch. “what are you- fuck!” you sunk onto him once more, riding him as his eyebrows knitted together.

“you’re killing me right now.” his nails dug into your thighs, the pain shooting straight to your core. pushing your weight on his chest, you kept a steady rhythm, looking down at rafe as he watched your cunt swallow him whole. “rafe, i’m close!” you winced, your clit hitting his pubic bone. he flipped you over, pinning your thighs down in order to pound into you even deeper. your eyes rolled back at the sudden pressure you felt, the foreign feeling making you lose your breath.

“wait i have to pee,” you tried to push rafe away but he shushed you, splaying a hand over your lower stomach, “no you don’t.” rafe began rubbing circles on your clit, your orgasm hitting you all at once. your mouth was open but there was no sound coming out, the only indication being the violent shaking of your legs. you reached out for rafe, a scream leaving your lips as he continued his movements, rubbing your clit even faster now. “look down, pretty girl, look at the mess you made.” your vision was blurry but you listened to him nonetheless, his lower half dripping with your juices.

“i’m sorry.” you whimpered, your voice shaky as overstimulation started setting in. rafe leaned down, kissing you harshly, “don’t apologize for that.” he shook his head. “hurts, rafe.” he laced his fingers with yours. “give me one more baby, i’m so close.” your eyes welled up with tears, your hips moving to meet his thrusts. with rafe hitting that soft spot inside you, it didn’t take long before you both came together, his face buried in your neck. you stayed in the same position for what felt like forever, trying to catch your breath.

“you okay?” he kissed your shoulder, running his hand down your side. “yes, i’m alright.” you smiled, both of you wincing as he pulled out. “i don’t think i could move.” you turned around, both of you blinking lazily. “well.. we don’t really have to go anywhere.” he leaned in, kissing you softly. you let him pull you close, his warmth providing you comfort. “no, but,” you looked down, “i need to clean up.” your cheeks flushed. “yeah? so do i.” you were brought back to earlier, embarrassment sinking in. “rafe i never did that before, i told you i was sorry!” you hid your face from him.

“why are you apologizing? that just means i did something right.” he got up, grabbing the long forgotten panties from the pocket of his discarded shorts. “i guess these came in handy, huh?” he walked over to you. “come on, let’s shower. we’ll share another beer and look at the stars afterwards, sound good?” he pulled you up, your legs feeling like jelly. giving him a grin, he looked at you expectedly. “well?” rafe supported you against his large frame.

“that’s the girliest shit i ever heard.” you mocked him from earlier, bursting out into laughter as he dragged you to the small bathroom.

[worlds-we-write]

Midnight Cravings

pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

summary: Late-night cravings lead to pancakes, flour fights, and soft confessions with Joel.

Tags: established relationship, domestic fluff, late-night softness, sleepy cuddles, pancakes, gentle Joel, comfort fic

My Masterlist

You wake up to the sound of your own stomach growling. At first, you try to ignore it, shifting under the blanket and curling further into the warmth of Joel beside you. But sleep won’t come.

You glance at the clock. 2:13 a.m.

Typical.

Carefully, you slide out from under Joel’s arm and tiptoe your way out of the bedroom. The floors in his house creak like hell, and the last thing you want is to wake him. He’s been sore from patrol all week — knees aching worse than usual, back stiff, and mood swinging like a goddamn pendulum. He deserves the rest.

You tug his flannel shirt around you tighter and pad into the kitchen, rubbing your eyes.

What are you even hungry for?

You open the pantry. Crackers. Old jerky. A jar of questionable preserves. You wince at the label’s date and shove it back onto the shelf. Maybe toast. If the bread isn’t stale. Or a spoonful of honey?

Your stomach rumbles again — louder this time. You sigh and flick on the oven light, bathing the room in a warm amber glow, soft and dim enough not to feel too awake.

That’s when you hear it: the shuffle of bare feet on hardwood and the low, gravelly voice you know better than your own heartbeat.

“You tryna sneak out or somethin’?”

You spin around. “Shit—Joel.”

He’s standing in the doorway, shirtless, hair tousled and sticking up in wild directions, eyes half-lidded and squinting against the light.

“You scared me,” you whisper, heart still fluttering from the surprise.

Joel just gives you a slow once-over. “And you’re in my shirt.”

“Your shirt’s comfy,” you murmur, tugging at the hem. “And I was hungry.”

“Hungry at two in the damn morning?”

“Midnight cravings don’t check the clock, Joel.”

He runs a hand down his face, scratching at the stubble along his jaw. “You could’ve woke me.”

You shrug. “Didn’t want to bother you. Figured I’d sneak a spoonful of peanut butter and crawl back into bed.”

Joel walks past you toward the cabinets. “We’re makin’ pancakes.”

You blink. “Wait—really?”

“Yeah, really. But you’re helpin’. Ain’t gonna be your damn short-order cook.”

You grin and follow him to the counter, grabbing the mixing bowl.

Joel pulls out the flour and a half-empty carton of milk while you grab eggs from the icebox. He’s still squinting, clearly not fully awake, but his hands move on autopilot. You get the feeling he’s done this before — maybe for Ellie, maybe for Sarah.

You don’t ask. You don’t need to. His quiet comfort in the kitchen tells enough stories.

“You got a real specific kind of hunger,” he mutters, cracking eggs into the bowl like it’s a challenge. “Can’t just eat a piece of bread like a normal person. No, gotta make pancakes from scratch in the middle of the night.”

“I never said you had to make them,” you reply, reaching over to snatch the whisk from him. “But now that you’re here…”

Joel grunts and raises a brow, but you catch the tiniest smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

You start mixing the batter while Joel greases the skillet. The scent of butter begins to drift through the kitchen, rich and warm and nostalgic. The kind of smell that makes you feel like a kid again.

But it wouldn’t be a late-night kitchen scene without a little chaos.

You’re scooping flour when Joel bumps your elbow reaching for the sugar, and half the cup dumps across the counter. Some of it lands squarely on your shirt—his shirt—and dusts the front like powdered snow.

“Joel!” you gasp, flailing slightly. “You flour-bombed me!”

“I didn’t do nothin’,” he says, deadpan, though you can see the amusement in his eyes. “Clumsy woman’s makin’ a mess in my kitchen, that’s what I see.”

You retaliate with a light sprinkle of flour to his chest. It clings to the soft hair there and leaves a ghostly handprint. Joel blinks down at it, then narrows his eyes.

“Oh, you’re askin’ for it now.”

Before you can back away, he dips his fingers into the batter and smears a line across your cheek.

“Joel!”

“You started it.”

“You ruined the pancake batter!”

“Nah, I improved it. Gave it some character.”

You stare at him, eyes wide with playful indignation, and then you both burst into laughter. It echoes off the tile and the quiet, sleeping walls of the house. You realize how rare this is — not just the moment, but this version of Joel. Loose. Soft. Light in his eyes. Laughing with you like nothing else in the world exists.

Once the batter’s somewhat salvaged and the skillet is ready, you both settle into your makeshift system. You pour; Joel flips. He grumbles every time a pancake gets too brown, and you tease him for being a “perfectionist pancake dad.” He tries to act annoyed, but his little grin betrays him every time.

“You ever do this?” you ask softly, handing him a plate.

He doesn’t look at you. “Do what?”

“This kind of thing. Middle of the night, pancakes, talking.”

There’s a beat. His eyes stay on the skillet as he flips one more cake with practiced ease.

“Used to,” he says eventually. “Long time ago.”

You nod. “Thanks for doing it with me now.”

Joel finally looks at you — and there’s something tender in his gaze, something wordless that wraps itself around your ribs and holds.

“I don’t mind,” he says. “Not with you.”

The pancakes turn out a little lopsided and uneven in color, but neither of you care. You stack them on mismatched plates, drizzle what little maple syrup you have left over the top, and sit cross-legged on the kitchen floor like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The oven light glows warm behind the stovetop, casting golden shadows across Joel’s bare chest and sleepy smile. The air smells like vanilla and sugar and him.

You take a bite and hum, mouth full. “See? Worth waking up for.”

Joel watches you, head tilted just slightly, fork in hand but untouched. “You got syrup on your lip.”

You swipe your tongue across it and shrug. “Fixed.”

He leans in — close enough that his knee bumps yours, close enough that his breath brushes your cheek. “Didn’t say I didn’t wanna get it myself.”

Your pulse skips.

He kisses you, slow and sweet, one hand braced against the floor and the other curling gently behind your neck. The kiss is soft but unhurried, like he’s tasting the syrup and you all at once, and savoring both. When he finally pulls back, your lips are sticky and smiling.

“Better,” he murmurs.

You roll your eyes and bump his shoulder. “You’re such a sap.”

“And you’re a damn menace,” he replies, nudging your foot with his. “But I like you anyway.”

The house is quiet, the rest of Jackson asleep, and yet the space between you feels full. Full of laughter and syrup and the warmth of something that stretches far beyond pancakes on the floor.

Joel finishes off the burnt one — because “wastin’ food’s a sin” — and then sets his plate aside, rubbing his hands on his sweatpants.

When he shifts, he opens one arm toward you in invitation. You don’t hesitate.

You crawl into his lap, your back against his chest, your body fitting like it always belonged there. Joel exhales like a weight lifts off his shoulders just having you close. His arms wrap around your middle, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“You warm enough?” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Perfect.”

You sit like that for a while. No need to fill the silence. Just the occasional deep breath, the soft drum of his fingers tracing lazy circles over your arm, and the contented hum he gives when you nuzzle into his neck.

He starts to sway just slightly — not quite rocking, but a rhythm so natural you barely notice it until your eyes get heavy.

“Sleepy now, huh?” he whispers.

You hum back, already halfway there.

Joel shifts a little and curls his hand protectively over your thigh. “You want me to carry you back to bed?”

You shake your head against his chest. “Can we just… stay here a little longer?”

He kisses your temple. “As long as you want, baby.”

The hardwood floor isn’t exactly comfortable — not like Joel’s bed, not even close — but wrapped up in him, you couldn’t care less.

Your legs are tangled together, your cheek resting just over his heart, where the steady thump lulls you closer to sleep with every second. His fingers trace patterns over your thigh, your hip, the curve of your back. Absentminded. Reverent.

You’re barely awake when you hear him speak.

“So, uh…” he murmurs, voice thick with hesitation and sleep. “This kinda thing. It’s real easy with you.”

Your breath catches, just a little. “Yeah?”

He nods against your temple. “Don’t usually—y’know, let people see me like this. Bein’ all soft, makin’ pancakes like a damn idiot.”

You smile, eyes still closed. “You’re not an idiot. You’re sweet.”

Joel lets out a small huff of a laugh. “Don’t spread that around.”

“No promises,” you tease. “You did smear pancake batter on my face, so... I’m definitely telling someone.”

“Traitor.”

You turn your face just enough to press a kiss over his heart. The thump beneath your lips stutters, then steadies again.

Joel’s arms tighten around you, and for a moment, neither of you speak. The silence isn’t awkward — it’s peaceful. Soft. Like the world outside doesn’t exist, and all that matters is the two of you in this sleepy kitchen, with syrup on your fingers and love in your bones.

Then, quietly—so quietly you almost don’t hear it—he whispers it:

“I love you.”

Your eyes open.

Not because you’re surprised. You knew it. You’ve felt it in the way he looks at you, how he shields you from the cold, how he always walks on the outside of the sidewalk. But hearing it—so unguarded, so soft—makes something bloom in your chest.

You shift just enough to meet his eyes.

“I love you too,” you whisper back.

And god, the way he looks at you then. Like you hung the stars. Like you’re the reason he stayed soft all this time.

He kisses you again — slow, deep, sleepy. One hand curls into your hair, the other pulling you tighter like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go.

“You ready for bed?” he murmurs against your lips.

“Nope.”

He huffs. “You plannin’ to make a nest on the floor, then?”

“Maybe,” you mumble. “Kinda like it here.”

Joel laughs under his breath, low and rough. “Yeah. Me too.”

Still, he stands with you cradled in his arms like it’s the easiest thing in the world. You bury your face in his neck, and he walks you both back to the bedroom with slow, steady steps.

You’re half-asleep before your head hits the pillow, tucked into his side. His flannel shirt still wrapped around you. His fingers tangled with yours.

And before the darkness fully pulls you under, you hear him again:

“Next time you wake up cravin’ somethin’…”

“Mm?”

“Just wake me. We’ll make waffles.”

You laugh, barely. “Deal.”

[joshujihan23]

Jealousy, jealousy

☆ pairing: idol bf! seungcheol!x reader

☆ genre: fluff, protectiveness, possessive behaviour by cheol

☆ synopsis: just seungcheol being possessive and jealous..

☆ author’s note: CAN YOU ALL BELIEVE I DREAMT OF THIS EXACT MOMENT HAPPENING????

————————————————————————

it’s comeback season again for SEVENTEEN, and they have been busier than ever. dance practices, photoshoot after photoshoot, endless hours in the recording studio with woozi, it seemed like time was moving slower than ever during this period. and the closer the date comes, the fewer times you get to see seungcheol, which included today, where the team had practice at the studio.

to say that you were lonely was an understatement. you hadn’t been able to see seungcheol often these days. you tossed and turned in your bed, longing at the empty space next to you. you sighed, closing your eyes and envisioning seungcheol’s large body sleeping right next to you, which was a rare sight these days. you hummed gently, staring up at the ceiling when an idea sparked in your head.

why not cook some lunch for the members?

that would give you an excuse to see seungcheol (and also get a sneak listen to their upcoming song.)

springing out of the bed, you headed over to the kitchen. you opened up your pantry, examining the possible meals that you could cook up for all 13 members. you turned your attention to the clock.

3 hours till lunch. that’s more than enough time.

you knelt down and fished out the endless lunch boxes, designated for each member, as your cookery begins…

————————————————————————

and after a few hours later and some hiccups while trying to find your way to HYBE, you stood in front of the door of the dance studio, hearing the music stop and the panting that followed after. you took a sharp breath, mentally preparing yourself before you enter. taking that as your cue to enter, you picked up the bags of the lunch boxes, pushing the door open with your body.

and as expected, at the sound of the door opening, you see their heads turn towards you, the aroma of the food quickly filling up the dance studio.

before you can even say anything, you saw members already rushing up towards you.

“noona! it’s so great to see you, what did you bring?” dino asked, peeking over to your bag.

“is that food? y/n you have such good timings! how did you know i was hungry?” dokyeom added.

you laughed at their comments, moving yourself more into the studio, holding up the bags.

“c’mon, here’s some home-cooked food to energise yourselves!” you exclaimed.

and like a pack of tigers, they rushed towards you, hovering over the bag and you.

hoshi wrapped an arm around your shoulder, ruffling your hair gently.

“y/nnie~ you’re the best!” he exclaimed.

“wahh y/n-ah! this is amazing, i love your cooking!” mingyu mentioned, taking his lunch box.

“is this matched to my diet? oh it is! it says right here.” woozi said, pointing at the post it note on the lunch box.

after meeting with many heads and ‘thank yous’, you witnessed the last few lunch box being taken. recognising the arm, you immediately knew who it was.

“love, you didn’t have to, you know? you’re treating the members so goddamn well.” seungcheol mumbled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, bringing you to a corner of the dance studio.

“i had to, times are so rough now, it makes me happy seeing you eat.” you replied, as you sat down in front of him.

seungcheol laughed, taking a bite of the food, his eyes widening at the taste.

“wah, this is delicious. maybe it’s time i wife you up.” he teased, the dimples on his face flashing with his smile.

you laughed, hitting his arm lightly.

“stop~ you’re exaggerating it.” you replied, your ears turning pink without you noticing, and that seemed to have made seungcheol smile even more.

you two enjoyed the comforting silence together (well not really, because SEVENTEEN was being SEVENTEEN), until it was disrupted by a drawn out voice.

“ahh shuji isn’t here today, let me third wheel the both of you~” jeonghan interrupted, a sinister smirk plastered on his face.

“shua oppa isn’t here today?” you asked, looking around the dance studio.

“he has a photoshoot, he’ll pop by later.” you heard seungcheol say while chewing.

you took this moment to just take your time to admire seungcheol. it has been so long since you took a good look at him. you just missed seeing him so much. his jaw, moving from his chews, his thick eyebrows, furrowing in a good way from the food that you fed him with, his fluffy hair, slightly drenched with sweat, and his biceps, which seemed bigger than you remembered it to be.

you moved closer to him while he was talking to jeonghan, before poking on his biceps with your fingertips, sending shivers to his body.

“have you been working out lately, cheollie?” you asked, squeezing his biceps gently with two of your fingers.

that only made a chuckle escape from his lips, an egotistic smirk lying on his face. he took his hand in yours, caressing it gently.

“you’ve noticed? has it been paying off?” he said with a suggestive tone, flexing his muscles slightly.

you held onto his hand gently, noticing how small your hand was compared to his. you took it in your hand, comparing the sizes carefully.

“has your hand always been this big? i don’t remember that.” you asked again, observing both of your hands.

before seungcheol could respond, you heard jeonghan suddenly mentioned.

“y/n-ah your hand looks like the same size as mine! let’s compare.” he held his hand out, waiting for you.

you removed your hand from seungcheol’s, as you placed your hand on jeonghan’s. unlike seungcheol’s calloused hands, jeonghan’s hand felt more milky, and more smooth. you observed it closely, noticing that like what he said, they were almost the same size, just that jeonghan’s hand was slightly larger.

“wah, it’s true! but oppa your hand feels so smooth, you’ve got to teach me your ways!” you interlocked your fingers with jeonghan’s hand, shaking them slightly.

jeonghan laughed at your statement, touching your hand gently, observing it.

“can’t say that about me, your hand is pretty smooth too.” he replied, a smile plastered on his lips.

what you didn’t know was that during this interaction with jeonghan, seungcheol was sitting right behind you, watching every single second of it. the way you interlocked your fingers with jeonghan’s, the way you complimented his smooth hands, and the way that you’re outright holding onto another man’s hand in front of him, not to mention his best friend.

he was infuriated.

putting the lunchbox aside, he moved closer to you. he reached his hands out, holding onto your waist firmly but gently, pulling you towards him, before you found yourself on his lap. confused, you turned to jeonghan, who seemed as confused as you, before you turned to seungcheol.

“cheol? what’s up?” you asked, trying to examine his facial expression.

he didn’t respond immediately. instead he placed his head on your shoulder, placing soft kisses onto your neck gently, as he whispered,

“seems like you’re forgetting who you actually belong to, hm? i just needed to remind you.”

his deep voice, making his chest rumble against your back, the hand on your waist drawing small circles, and his lips pressing against your sensitive skin, it sent shivers down your spine.

you gulped slightly, looking around to see if any of the other members were watching. but thankfully, they were more entertained by seungkwan and dino bickering with each other. you tapped on seungcheol’s arm gently, leaning back onto him.

“cheollie, your members are here too, can’t you wait a little?” you whispered, feeling slightly nervous.

you felt him shaking his head, a playful smirk on his face.

“well then they’ll know who you belong to.” he mumbled, his breath hitting your ear teasingly.

before you could even respond, you heard the door of the dance studio creak open, to see a joshua entering the room.

“JOSHUJI! you’re finally here! now i don’t need to feel lonely anymore.” jeonghan shouted in delight, running towards him with the lunch box in his hand.

at jeonghan’s words, all the members reacted to welcome joshua, asking and talking to him about everything, like the popular kid he is.

but seungcheol stayed planted onto the cold floor, his muscular arms wrapped around your torso, and his chin placed against your shoulder. his hands grasped onto yours tightly, engulfing your hands entirely. he leaned up to place a soft kiss on your lips, smirking gently at the contact.

“you’re all mine, so don’t even think about touching other men, because you are mine to touch.”

please let me dream of this again.

[kathaelipwse]

Home is Where They Are - SVT OT13

Warning: Fluff, Comfort, Found Family, Soft SEVENTEEN, Reader Having a Rough Day, GN!Reader Trope: Roommates AU, Found Family, Comfort After a Hard Day Word Count: 1.1k Synopsis: After a long, exhausting day at work, you come home completely drained. Your 13 chaotic yet caring roommates immediately notice and do everything they can to make you feel better—whether it's cooking your favorite meal, sitting with you in silence, or making you laugh. In the end, you’re reminded that home isn’t just a place—it’s the people who love you. Author’s Note: This is pure comfort fluff! I wanted to capture the warmth of having people who just get you and know exactly what you need after a bad day. Hope this makes you feel as cozy as it made me while writing it. 💕

The moment you stepped through the door, exhaustion weighed down your every movement, an invisible anchor dragging you towards the floor. Your bag slipped from your shoulder, landing on the worn wooden floor with a dull, heavy thud, echoing the weariness that permeated your bones. You barely had the energy to kick off your shoes, your feet aching in their confines, your body a symphony of protesting muscles after a long, draining day at work.

The usual cacophony inside the apartment, a vibrant, chaotic symphony of thirteen young men, had come to a complete, abrupt stop. DK and Hoshi, who were previously engaged in a boisterous, borderline violent argument over a video game, their voices usually bouncing off the walls, froze mid-sentence. The air shifted instantly, the playful energy dissipating, replaced by a quiet, concerned stillness. Your tired expression, the lines etched around your eyes, the slump in your shoulders, was enough to silence even the two most hyperactive members of the group.

"Bad day?" Joshua’s voice was soft, careful, a gentle question that didn’t demand an answer, but offered a space for one. You nodded, a sigh escaping your lips, a heavy, ragged sound that spoke volumes, as you dragged yourself further into the living room, each step a monumental effort.

Seungcheol was on his feet before you could even articulate your exhaustion, his strong, reassuring hands resting gently on your shoulders, kneading the tense muscles beneath your work clothes. "Go sit down. Don’t worry about anything else, okay?" His voice was firm, yet tender, a comforting directive that you were too weary to resist.

You didn’t have the energy to protest, to feign strength or offer a polite denial. Instead, you let him guide you to the worn, comfortable couch, where Woozi and Junhui, usually engrossed in their own creative pursuits, quietly made space for you. They didn’t say anything, simply offering the silent comfort of their presence, a wordless reassurance that you weren’t alone. You sank into the cushions, your head tilting back against the soft fabric, your eyes closing as you exhaled, the sound a mixture of relief and utter depletion.

The silence that followed was not awkward or tense, but a warm, comforting blanket, a shared understanding that you needed a moment to simply exist, to breathe. Meanwhile, in the kitchen, a gentle clatter of pots and pans began, a subtle, reassuring rhythm. Mingyu was already rummaging through the fridge, his movements purposeful and efficient. "Wonwoo, grab that pot. We’re making their favorite."

Wonwoo, who wasn’t known for his culinary prowess but was deeply familiar with the subtle language of comfort, simply nodded and started assisting, his usually stoic expression softened with concern. The sounds of chopping vegetables and soft, murmured conversation filtered through the apartment, a comforting background noise, a gentle hum that filled the space with warmth and familiarity.

Vernon approached next, his tall, lanky frame moving with a quiet grace. Wordlessly, he handed you a small bar of dark chocolate, your favorite. He didn’t make a big deal out of it, didn’t ask questions or offer platitudes, just placed it in your hands with a knowing look, a silent acknowledgment of your weariness, before settling into a nearby armchair, his presence a quiet comfort. The warmth in your chest grew just a little, a small flicker of gratitude igniting in the face of such thoughtful kindness.

Joshua reappeared moments later, carrying a warm mug of herbal tea, its delicate aroma filling the air. He placed it on the coffee table in front of you, the steam curling upwards like a gentle whisper. "Drink when you’re ready," he murmured, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before stepping back, allowing you the space you needed.

Minutes passed in comforting silence, each tick of the clock a gentle reminder that you were safe, surrounded by people who cared. Then, as if a silent agreement had been reached, Seungkwan and Dino decided enough was enough, the quiet concern shifting into their usual brand of boisterous, playful energy. "Alright, we can’t just sit here like we’re at a funeral. Tell me—who do we need to fight?" Seungkwan asked, crossing his arms dramatically, his voice laced with mock seriousness.

Dino nodded in agreement, puffing up his chest in a comical display of bravado. "Yeah, name one person, and we’ll take care of it. We'll make them regret crossing you."

A tired chuckle slipped past your lips, a small, involuntary sound that broke the tension. "I don’t think my boss would appreciate that."

"We’ll make it look like an accident," Seungkwan deadpanned, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

A genuine laugh bubbled up in your chest, a wave of warmth spreading through you, and just like that, the heavy weight of the day started to melt away. Dino and Seungkwan continued their antics, launching into exaggerated reenactments of their own ‘horrible’ days, complete with dramatic sighs and over-the-top gestures, making you laugh even more, the sound a welcome release.

"You wouldn't believe it," Dino exclaimed, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. "My ramen was slightly overcooked! A tragedy!"

"And mine," Seungkwan added, clutching his chest dramatically, "My phone died right before I was about to win a game! The horror!"

As you laughed, the tension in your shoulders eased, the knot in your stomach loosened. You took a sip of the warm tea, the soothing liquid calming your frayed nerves.

When Mingyu and Wonwoo finally emerged from the kitchen, carrying steaming plates of your favorite meal—a comforting mix of spicy kimchi jjigae and fluffy rice—you swore you could’ve cried. The aroma alone was enough to make your mouth water, a promise of warmth and sustenance. "I’d like to take full credit for this masterpiece," Mingyu announced proudly, placing a plate in front of you.

"You literally almost set the stove on fire," Wonwoo deadpanned, rolling his eyes.

"Details," Mingyu scoffed, placing the plate in front of you with a flourish. "Eat up."

As you began to eat, the warmth of the food spreading through you, the exhaustion from work hadn’t disappeared, but it no longer felt as unbearable. You weren’t alone. You never were.

"It was just… one of those days," you began, your voice a little shaky, a little rough. "Everything went wrong. The client was impossible, the presentation crashed, and then the train was delayed. I just felt… overwhelmed."

You looked up at them, your eyes filled with a mix of exhaustion and gratitude. "I know it sounds silly, but I just needed to come home."

Seungcheol, who had been watching you with a gentle, understanding gaze, pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. "It doesn’t sound silly at all. We’ve got you. Always."

The simple words, spoken with such sincerity, were enough to make your heart swell. You looked around at the thirteen faces, each one filled with warmth and affection, and you knew that you were truly home.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for everything."

The rest of the evening unfolded in a haze of warmth and laughter. They shared stories, played games, and simply enjoyed each other’s company. The exhaustion from the day was still there, a dull ache in your muscles, but it was overshadowed by the overwhelming sense of belonging, the knowledge that you were loved and supported.

As the night drew to a close, and you finally retreated to your room, the words echoed in your mind: "We’ve got you. Always." And that was enough. More than enough. It was everything.

[majestyeverlasting]

𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐬 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

Pairing Joel Miller x Daughter Reader

Summary For years, you’ve survived tethered to Joel’s side, haunted by the loss of your sister and scared to step outside of his shadow. So when he bonds with the girl he’s tasked to smuggle, it strains your complicated relationship—until the threat of losing him forces you to confront just how much he means to you [angst, fluff, 5.4k].

A/N This is some of my favorite prose I've written recently. Daughter!reader is a new dynamic for me, but it was such a rewarding writing experience. Thank you to the anon who sent this request in. I hope you all enjoy.

∘°∘♡∘°∘

𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆

It’s cold outside today. If the draft sneaking in through the windows isn’t enough to let on, the sky itself is an undeniable sign. There’s no blue, no clouds that can be distinguished from the next. The entire expanse is a pale white sheet. As if the heavens have decided to shield earth from its view because of how far it’s fallen. 

Nevertheless, life in the Boston Quarantine Zone labors on. Day after soulless day, rain or shine. Like a well-oiled machine who’s battered parts of flesh and blood refuse to lay down and die. 

The glass of the living room window is cool against your forehead as you gaze outside. Everything is dull. Brick, metal, concrete, and endless earthtones constitute the expanse of buildings that seemingly stretch for miles. However, after having explored every corner of this walled city, you know it’s finite. A mere portion of a much larger world trying to find its footing again. 

The people walking on the sidewalks below look small from the height of your apartment. All seeming to move on a droning autopilot, clad in worn clothes that likely belonged to ten other people before them. 

With a sigh, you step away from the window and plop back down on the couch. The coffee table is cluttered with stained, old papers and trinkets, but you reach for the stack of Polaroids you’d previously been flipping through. Each photo and caption transports you back to a past moment in time...

tea for two ♡ March 13, 2003 

A day that seems closer than it actually is, now confined to a single, glossy frame. The white border has faded to beige and the picture itself no longer bears its original saturation. In it, you and Sarah are wrapped in each other’s arms, dressed like princesses for the tea party you invited her to. 

You were her three-year-old shadow, and even though you got on her nerves half the time, she found it hard to say no to you. Everybody in the Miller household did. 

lake day!!! July 4, 2003 

A sunny day. You, Sarah, and Joel are squinting into the light but smiling, your backs to the lake. Later that night, according to Joel’s retelling, you cried because of the colorful, celebratory explosions bursting amid the night sky. 

dad’s getting old (jk ily dad) September 26, 2003

Joel’s smile is shy as he sits at the kitchen table with a cone birthday hat on his head. Sarah was the one behind the lens while you clung to her leg, both you and Tommy making goofy faces in hopes of making Joel smile wider. 

He turned thirty-six that day. By that evening, everything had changed. Not just because of the outbreak, but because Sarah, who had been a light in so many of the photos, was gone too. A few months after her fourteenth birthday, no less. 

It feels strange being twenty-three now. An age she never got to see—

The faint metallic clinking of a belt being fastened prompts you to curiously stand to your feet. After setting down the photos, you saunter to the hallway, where there’s a straight view to Joel’s bedroom. The door is cracked, and warm lamplight pours out to light the end of the hall. With each step closer you take, the old, wooden floorboards creak. 

When you make it to the door, you rap your knuckles against it a few soft times. There’s shuffling on the other side. 

You knock again when there’s no response. “Dad?” 

“What’s up?” he doesn’t say it in a clipped, annoyed way so you know he hadn’t heard your previous knocking. 

“Can I come in?” 

He’s quiet for a beat. “I’m finishing up getting dressed. But yeah.”

Inside, the bed still isn’t made. He’s standing in front of the full body mirror leaning against the wall. The paint of the gold trim around it is peeling, revealing the dark aluminum beneath. The glass itself is a bit foggy with stubborn grime that refuses to be scrubbed away. And right in the middle, at the same height that Joel stands, is a sizable spiderweb crack that makes his face look fragmented unless he bends down or shifts to either the left or right. 

Right now, he doesn’t seem to mind the distortion of his face, more interested in assessing his clothes. When you step up behind him, a little to the right, your entire body looks whole. Face and all. 

His eyes briefly flick to you as he continues to button the rest of his olive colored shirt. When he’s finished, he sucks in his stomach and pushes down the waistband of his dark jeans to rest at a more comfortable place on his hips. 

It isn’t until then that you notice a small portion of the back of his shirt is flipped up, the fabric thick enough to hold its place. You reach out to smooth it down. Joel hums in realization. 

“Thanks,” he mumbles. 

“Yep,” you murmur. “I thought you were off today.” 

Turning around and brushing past you, he sits in the accent chair to put on his boots. A grunt escapes him with the effort of leaning down. You watch as his thick, battered fingers fumble with the laces until they produce two neat bows. He sits back with a sigh when he’s done, running a hand through his fluffy, silvering hair. 

“I’m meeting with Marlene,” he says. The way you frown tells him that’s not a good thing, or nearly enough information. “Tess will be there too. It’s looking like we might be able to get that car battery we need to set out for Tommy.” 

You process that information with a slow nod. The idea of finding him feels elusive these days. 

A few weeks ago, Marlene told Joel she knew a couple guys who could provide resources. At various points in the months prior, she claimed the very same thing. Every promise she made fell flat because those said contacts either died or backed out of the negotiation. Yet, Joel held out hope every time. 

It used to be you who accompanied him whenever he went to meet with Marlene, but it’d gotten to the point where you couldn’t bring yourself to believe her or stand seeing her face. 

But Joel still did. For the sake of his own conscience. For Tommy. 

After standing from the chair, he fishes into his back pocket for a red cardstock meal card. When you reach out to take it from him, he doesn’t let go, instead opting to look directly into your eyes. 

“Want you to meet us for lunch at the northern dining commons at noon. We should be done by then,” he says, waiting for you to nod so he knows you’re tracking. 

“Don’t leave before then, alright? It’s getting crazier out there. Don’t know if it’s ‘cause summer’s coming or what.” 

“I won’t,” you insist. 

When you try to take the card again, he holds onto it just for the sake of coaxing a smile out of you. It doesn’t quite meet your eyes, but it’s enough to tie him over for now. He lets go of it just as you’re in the middle of pulling, and the lack of resistance makes you stumble backwards. The sound of amusement he huffs out earns him a light punch to the shoulder. 

“I mean it, though.” He points a finger. “Don’t leave till it’s time, alright? We’ll fill you in on everything then.” 

Rolling your eyes, you follow him back out into the living room. “I already said I wouldn’t.” 

“Well, reiterating is my job.” 

Those are the words he leaves you with before heading out the door.  

A few hours later, when the clock strikes twelve, you’re eating at the dining commons alone. Anxiousness prickles beneath your skin. You soothe yourself as chatter and the clinking of silverware float up all around you…

Everything’s fine. Joel’s alright. Tess is alright. Just finish eating and go home. 

•••

Sunset paints the sky that evening. The clouds that lingered all day have finally made way for an expressionist ombre of blue, pink, and orange. It's beautiful in a way that would’ve been worth photographing once upon a time. 

All you can think about is the fact that Joel hasn’t returned. 

A little past seven, voices arise in the hallway. They’re hushed and somewhat frustrated, one of them undeniably belonging to Joel. By the time keys hastily begin jingling in the door, you’re popping to your feet from the couch. A second later, it swings open with enough force that it hits the neighboring wall. 

“Get inside,” Joel orders. You can’t see him from where you’re standing. 

You can’t see anybody. 

“I don’t have to keep listening to you,” quips a tight, youthful voice. “Whatever happened to stranger danger?”  

“Move, Ellie,” Joel says. “Before I make you.” 

A young girl wearing a backpack trudges into the apartment with a scowl. After looking around the bleak accommodation, her eyes settle on you. The air falls silent. You note the wispy flyaways escaping her short ponytail, the slight redness to her eyes like she’s been either crying or rubbing them. 

Ellie sizes you up in return. You can see it in the calculated rove of her dark gaze, the way she squares her shoulder to match your guardedness. 

She eventually whips her attention back to Joel. “Who the hell is she?” 

“Told you I didn’t live alone.” That’s all he gives her before redirecting his attention to you. He seldom reveals the entirety of what he’s feeling in a given moment, but you can see the guilt weighing down on his shoulders. “I—” 

“You missed lunch.” 

He runs a heavy hand down his face. “I know.” 

The girl looks between the two of you with owl-like attentiveness that borders on amusement. At least she wasn’t the only one having a shitty day. Outside, shouting voices arise in the distance. Glass bottles break. 

“Dad. You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Ellie’s eyes widen at the revelation. 

Joel doesn’t say anything because you’re staring daggers straight into his very being.  

“I’m immune to the virus,” she speaks up. There’s a hint of pride in her tone, like she’s looking past the present to some undefined future in which she saves the world.  

“He’s gonna take me to the people who can find the cure. Then you guys are gonna go find Timmy or whatever—Tommy.”  

It’s an oversimplification, but Joel doesn’t have the energy to expound right now. Not when you look like you would lunge for him if it wasn’t for the girl.

••• 

Later that night, he sees the first shove coming. Your eyes darken until you’re no longer able to constrain your frustration to a mere look. It frustrates you all the more when he doesn’t budge. So you do it again, pushing both your hands straight into his chest. 

All he does is take a single step backwards to create distance, hands raised in surrender. The fact that he isn’t reacting makes more heat consume your face. 

Until, finally, he grabs your wrists. 

“Are you done acting like a child?” he asks.

“As soon as you quit treating me like one,” you bark. “All you do is give orders and break promises, and I’m supposed to keep following you around like a dog.” 

“I don’t see any shackles.”

“Because it’s you,” you retort, attempting to pull away from his light hold. “You’re the shackles, the prison guard, and the key.” 

Those words make him drop your wrists as if you’ve stung him with poison. He takes a seat on the edge of his bed and drops his head into his hands with a heavy sigh. The mattress creaks under his weight. In the new silence, you stand and stare at him as your breaths even out. 

Neither of you are aware that Ellie has her ear pressed to the other side of the bedroom door, listening. 

When he lifts his head, only then are you aware of how tired and worn down he looks. His hair is more disheveled than it was this morning. The same hair you used to playfully run your fingers through and litter with sparkly hair clips. Except now, his face is void of a smile. 

“I’m sorry about lunch, alright?” His dark eyes search yours for any inkling of forgiveness. He knows he scared you. That’s what’s beneath your anger. “I didn’t know I was gonna get held up like that.” 

Joel Miller was a lot of things, but a pushover wasn’t one of them. 

If he really wanted to, he could’ve at least come to the dining commons to explain. Or ignore Marlene’s request entirely, and force her to find someone else to smuggle the girl. Even Tess had refused to involve herself in the escape plan because she feared it would be all risk and no reward.

“What happens if these guys turn out to be dead too?” You ask Joel, voice softer than before. “What if this is yet another exchange that falls through?” 

He knows you have a point. He also knows he has a brother out there miles away who recently sent him a signal. 

“If there’s a chance, I gotta take it,” he says. “And if we get out there and nobody’s waiting for us, we’re heading to Wyoming anyway.” He meets your gaze. 

You swallow and blink in surprise. “Really?” 

“I’m done waiting around for the right time,” he says, voice low but firm. “It’s never gonna come. Gotta forge it ourselves.” 

He sounds sure. Right now, you could use something to believe in. And if nothing else, a change of scenery from the city walls you’ve been confined within for far too long. 

•••

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑

𝐈.

The Capitol Building is empty when you arrive, no sight of the men who were supposed to take Ellie and give you and Joel the supplies you need to carry on. For a while, the three of you linger hopefully on the inside, where grass grows through the chipped marble floors. The only people who eventually arrive are ridden with the virus, their rotting bodies infested with fungus from the inside out. 

You promptly flee the scene after swallowing disappointment like a pill. 

𝐈𝐈.

The front door of Bill and Frank’s house is unlocked when you arrive in the desolate suburbia. Dead grass and tall weeds constitute the yard. The flower beds out front have long wilted. That’s enough for you to know that they’re either dead or gone. Joel pushes into the house anyway, with you and Ellie trailing behind. Bill left a note behind. They’re dead. Ellie asks questions about them that Joel thoughtfully answers.

The three of you take turns showering, then leave.

𝐈𝐈𝐈.

By early August, the trio feels more like a unit, having been bound together by shared letdowns and long nights under the stars. Some days, you don’t know where you are until coming across specific landmarks or recognizable cliffs. You and Joel teach Ellie how to shoot because she wouldn’t stop begging. Most days, as you’re making progress towards Wyoming, it’s the two of you trailing behind Joel, who often shoots unreadable glances over his shoulder to make sure you’re keeping up. 

Sometimes he lets down his walls to offer a small smile. 

•••

𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋

All around, tall trees stretch towards the sky, bearing vibrant leaves beginning to change colors. Every so often, a breeze rolls through and ruffles them. The same mourning dove has been calling out into the wind with no response in return. It’s a tune that filled the mornings of your childhood back when you were on the road to Boston with Joel. You hadn’t heard it much since. 

Twigs and leaves crunch beneath your boots as you squat to lower your fingertips into the creek. The water is cool against your skin, and clear enough to see the rocks at the bottom. When you stand up, you startle at the sight of Ellie standing a few yards away. She takes a few apologetic steps back, almost tripping over herself. 

Further away, Joel sits with his back propped against a tree as he reorganizes the contents of his backpack. 

“Jesus, El,” you sigh, pressing a hand to your chest over your heart. 

Ellie no longer seems sure of her reason for approaching you. There were times when she didn’t look her age—whether it be her stare or the way she carried herself—but this wasn’t one. Now, an air of self-consciousness surrounds her, like she’s caught between knowing nothing and everything all at once. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you heard me,” she rushes out. There’s a pang of guilt when you realize she thinks you’re angry. 

“No, it’s fine,” you insist, softening your tone. “I’ve just been in my head.” 

She nods and feels more comfortable to step up alongside you. 

“I’ve seen those pictures you’ve been looking at.” She continues when you don’t say anything, “Was that your sister?” 

Neither you or Joel have brought her up, but your silence is an answer. 

“What was she like?” 

“I don’t remember much.” 

Only bits and pieces. The larger gaps have been filled in by Joel over the years. He never talks about Sarah at length, but sometimes he’ll see something or you’ll make an expression that reminds him of her. That usually prompted him to tell a short story. Oftentimes, without meeting your eyes because he was too busy trying to busy his restless hands. Talking about her always makes him fidget. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I know what it’s like to lose someone.” 

Ignoring her, you ask, “Did Joel say when we were gonna start back hiking?” 

Embarrassed, Ellie clears her throat and shakes her head no. “Why do you use his first name like that?” You almost hadn’t realized. 

“Force of habit.” Her brows have furrowed in confusion, so you explain, “Half the time, people in the QZ only listened to me when I threw his name in the mix. It holds a lot of weight among certain groups these days.” 

“Like he’s the boogeyman or something?”

You allow a small chuckle to escape at her words. She feels like it earns her a place back in your good graces. Pride glimmers in the grin that stretches across her face. 

“Something like that,” you agree. 

The familiar crunch of leaves rises as Joel makes the short venture over to the two of you. When he sees the fleeting smiles on your faces, he clears his throat and waits to see if he’ll be invited into whatever small moment of amusement had arisen. He seems to have just missed it. 

“Speaking of the devil,” Ellie says, 

Joel frowns, remaining quiet as he walks up to the edge of the creek. He stares into the bottom for a few thoughtful seconds. Both of you watch as he squats down to splash his face with water, humming with refreshment. 

Ellie no sooner moves to copy him. She laughs, a bubbly surprised sound, as she stands with her face dripping and eyes squeezed shut.

“Wait, how do I—” 

“Use your shirt,” Joel quips lightly. 

“Oh, yeah!” She uses her shirt to dry her eyes just as he had.

The chuckle that rumbles through Joel’s chest is a sound you haven’t heard in a while. It makes you stand up straighter, unconsciously shifting his way as if the sound has the power to heal that part of you that misses him even when he’s within reach. Misses how things were before he grew hard and consumed with the need to survive. 

You didn’t fault him for it, though. 

What’s become increasingly clear, however, is that need was born as much out of spite as it was out of the pure, unadulterated will to live. The end of the world took Sarah, and to Joel, ensuring the two of you endured no matter what was his fuck you to the universe. His proof that everything he cared about couldn’t be ripped from his hands. It was a muddled labor of love. 

But right here, right now, he’s laughing. Not urging silence or trying to instill a survival lesson. He’s letting the moment wash over him for what it is. There you stand watching the two of them like a mere onlooker frozen in place. The entire scene is reminiscent of a different time. A different Joel. 

Something heavy and bitter settles in your stomach at the sight of their twin smiles. 

“Are you gonna try it?” Ellie asks like she’s referring to some grand experience.

“It’s just water,” you say flatly. 

Face falling, Ellie looks to the ground as if the bridge connecting you two had been burned yet again. Something protective flares in Joel’s chest. 

He gives you a pointed look. “You feelin’ alright?” 

“I’m great. Grand even.” 

The air shifts, levity disappearing like a vapor. All three of you can feel it.

“Let’s keep moving then.”

For weeks, you keep it moving. Through rain, shine, and snow. The closer you get to Wyoming, the further away you drift from Ellie and Joel. Like you’re the corner piece of an island that’s been chipped away from the larger landmass. 

𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑

Arriving at the Jackson commune does little to mend things back to the way they were. Some days pass by with more conversation and laughter between the three of you than others. Coming here had been the very thing you longed for, right alongside Joel. But tonight, as you fold clothes at the secondhand store where you volunteer, you wonder what there is to dream about now. 

You don’t know what you like or want. You were so young when the outbreak began that Joel’s practices and motivations became your own. You don’t know where he ends and you begin, and the inability to distinguish makes a part of you resent him. 

The bells above the door jingle as Ellie enters with her backpack slung over her shoulder. Half of her hair is pulled into a ponytail, while the other falls in loose waves just past her shoulders. For once, it looks like she brushed it properly. 

You see more of her than Joel these days. 

“Hey, I’m gonna go over to Dina’s,” she says as she pads over to you. “Joel’s not home yet so I figured I’d come tell you.” She absentmindedly runs her hand over the cashmere sweater you’d folded minutes prior to her arrival. 

You set down the pair of jeans you just finished folding. “He’s not?” 

“No,” she says, unphased. “Probably went straight to the dining hall.” 

A dull, gnawing sense of worry arises in your chest. Ellie can’t see it or feel it herself, still tending to believe Joel was somehow invincible. That every time he went out for patrol, he was bound to return because that’s what he’d proven to her so far. 

“Be safe, okay?” you tell her. “Thanks for letting me know.” 

When she leaves, you head to the store owner in the back room. He’s rummaging through a huge box of donated items. 

“Hey, Stewart?”

There’s a click as two glasses knock into one another. “Goddammit—what?” He straightens up to turn around and face you. 

He has a head full of wiry gray hair and his glasses are crooked on his nose. There’s a light sheen of sweat beading on his forehead. 

“You alright back here?” you tease lightly. He grumbles and waves you off. “Would it be okay if I clocked out early? Natalie and Craig are out there, so you’ll still have help until closing.” It’s been pretty slow this evening anyways. No chance a random rush would occur. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you want, kid.” He huffs and looks back down at the box. “I’ll see you on Thursday.” 

“You’re the best, Stew.” You flash him a playful smile. 

Outside, you shiver at how cold it’s grown. Crossing your arms over your chest does little to alleviate the creeping chill. The first snow of the season has yet to fall, but you can feel it lingering in the crisp air. Nevertheless, Jackson Hole is buzzing. People of all ages flit in and out of shops and gathering spaces. Everywhere you look, there’s a friendly face, if not an actual friend. 

This time of year, the entire commune is reminiscent of those cute Christmas village displays. Plush wreaths with red bows hang on wooden posts, and colorful fairy lights shine all around. The most activity buzzes over at the dining hall. Families talk and laugh on the benches outside, and you can see people walking around inside through the windows. 

As you head that way, the two men standing on the patrol office porch capture your attention. It was probable that Joel was inside either logging or assessing his hours. 

When you make it to the building, you recognize the taller man as Cameron, someone who often partnered with Joel because they had the same, collected, no-nonsense way about them. They automatically nod to you in greeting, but their lips are set in firm lines like they have news you don’t. 

You offer a shaky smile back as a lump forms in your throat, “Evening.” 

Your heart rate speeds up as Cameron opens the door for you. Inside, six men stand circled around Tommy, who’s tone is firm as he talks with his hands. Some have rifles slung over their shoulders, and others have pistols on their hips. Standing among the group is Lyle, a younger guy who was scheduled to be Joel’s partner today. 

The only person missing is Joel. 

You allow your eyes to rove over the plaques, portraits, and retired weaponry decorating the walls as you await the end of Tommy’s lecture.  

“Let what happened out there today be a lesson—” Tommy stops talking when his eyes fall on you, and other heads turn to look your way. A few throats are cleared, necks are scratched. 

“Hold on a second, fellas.” He breaks out of the circle and heads towards you, cowboy boots clunking against the wood floorboards. There’s a rifle draped across his body like he’s ready for action. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says softly, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder. He doesn’t have to say anything for you to gather what this meeting is all about. Everybody has discretely turned to look at the two of you. 

“Tommy…” 

“Why don’t we step outside for a second, yeah?” He places a gentle hand at the small of your back to guide you back out into the cold. Cameron and his buddy slip inside out of respect for your privacy. 

“What’s going on, Tommy?” 

He wrestles with how to answer. You see it in his dark eyes, the way he shifts his stance. His cheeks are a bit flushed. 

“Joel hasn’t made it back,” he breathes. “Lyle made it in without him around an hour ago. Said they ran into some disgruntled nomads and got split up,” he says. “Got a few people out looking for him now, and I’m about to go out myself.” 

How foolish you’ve been acting these past several weeks hits you all at once. Everything from purposely distancing yourself from Joel, to occasionally ignoring him whenever he tried to ask how you’ve been—you’d made a point to be away from the house as much as possible. Most of all, it’d been foolish to pretend he wasn’t one of the only people in the world you wouldn’t be able to live without.

A stinging sensation pricks in your eyes, but no tears form. You don’t have it in you to cry. Helplessness crashes down on you in the form of frustration. 

“What do you mean came back without him?” you ask. “What good are patrol partners if they’re just gonna leave you behind—” 

“Hey. Hey.” Tommy looks at you intently. His eyes are so much like Joel’s that you look away. “This ain’t the time to be pointing fingers, alright? When you’re out there like that and shit hits the fan, you don’t know how you’ll react.” 

“Definitely not by leaving my partner behind.” 

Joel had never left you behind. Things had gone sideways time after time again, but you managed to remain by each other’s side. 

Worry radiates off of you in waves. 

“I’m worried out my ass too,” Tommy admits, trying to assure you. “But judging other people ain’t gonna bring him back any faster,” he says. 

When you release a heavy exhale and slink your head down, Tommy steps forwards to wrap his arms around you. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he promises. “You eaten dinner yet?” 

“I’ll probably throw up if I do.” 

He pulls away to look at you under the soft glow of the porchlight. “Let’s at least try to get a little something in your system, okay? I’ll walk you over to the dining hall.” Tommy guides you that way, and everything around you seems to fade in and out as you walk. 

Tommy’s words manage to break through to you, “I know my brother. He’ll make it back one way or another,” 

He always did. Maybe a bite to eat didn’t sound so bad. 

•••

The unyielding weight of your nerves forces sleep to find you when you make it home. Not in your bed, but on the couch as you sit and wait for Joel’s return. Worrying has taken a lot out of you. 

Creaky footsteps arise out on the porch. Then the lock clicks. Neither of which you register. By the time Joel is walking in through the front door, your eyes flutter open. There’s a slight sway to his stride like he’s favoring one leg. Other than that, he’s still in one piece. You’re on your feet in an instant, ignoring the crick in your neck. 

“Oh my god, Dad—thank god.” 

Joel stops in his tracks as you hurry over to him. He lets you look him over as if he’s a child who just fell off a bike. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” there’s a rasp to his voice.  

Relief is written all over your face. It’s the most interest you’ve shown in him in weeks, but he’s grateful for it anyways. He’s grateful for any mind you’re willing to pay him. 

There’s so much you want to say—I thought I lost you, don’t scare me like that again, I love you—but none of it comes out. Instead, it’s all packed into the way you step forward to throw your arms around him. 

But even hugging him doesn’t bring you close enough. 

Luckily, he’s so tall and broad that you settle for the feeling of being safe, cocooned in his arms. He squeezes you, not in the playful way that used to be a means of making you smile, but in a way that solidifies his presence. Assures you that he’s never going to let go. That you don’t have to worry about living without him.

As your tears wet his shirt, he doesn’t ease up or pull away. He remains constant like he’s been throughout your entire life, even on the days you thought you wanted him to disappear. 

He presses a lingering kiss to the top of your head and you’re overcome with warmth.  

“I love you to pieces,” his voice is low and thick with sincerity. “So much it hurts.” 

It’s you who reluctantly pulls away to look up into his eyes. 

“I love you too,” you murmur, cheeks glistening with tears. 

The tears gathered in his eyes finally spill over. He doesn't turn away or tilt his head back in an attempt to fend them off. They simply roll down his cheeks at your words. You can’t recall seeing him cry since Sarah passed away. Guilt, sympathy, and gratitude swell in your chest. For the years he’s been strong for the both of you, for everyone who’s ever leaned on him in a time of need. He never made it look hard. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. “For everything. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—” 

“As long as you’re safe, I can handle being ignored.” He manages a small, sad smile. “It ain’t easy growing up during the end of the world.” Few things ever were. 

“It’s a little easier with you.” 

“Just a little?” He asks lightly. 

Both your smiles grow, and as you step back into his arms, every gripe and the chaotic events of the evening fade away.

- 

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. I promise I see them all. 

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[yearsbecomingcool]

bury me at makeout point | jason hochberg

donate to gaza here | masterlist

pairing | jason hochberg x f!reader

synopsis | after sticking up for jason you learn he's never been to makeout point, you won't let it stay that way.

warnings | some minor spoilers from the movie that are just dialogue spoilers!!, minor physical violence, making out, bullying, sexual references, tooth rotting fluff, jason is an adorable loser and we love him for it.

word count | 5.1k

a/n | if you are able to make it out to the theater to see hell of a summer please go see it!! it's so funny and such a good time, it leans more on comedy than horror and could've definitely gotten a pg-13 rating if it wasn't for all the swearing. think of it like gateway horror! it's such a fun time, especially with some friends. please let this fic influence you to go see it, there's some really cute stuff in it with jason and everyone gives amazing performances. fred and billy are standouts in the film and i really hope i portrayed their characters well in this!! these next few months are probably going to be filled with hell of a summer fics from me because i have more planned for jason and some for bobby as well!!

taglist | @kawaii1kitten @samslvrgirl @circuslxcysplace @spookyscarydemonbabe @slaytheusurper @orangecheeks00 @boo8008

“Seriously? Another fight with Demi? You’re a grown adult and you can’t stay out of conflicts for five minutes?” John rants at you from across his desk. You sit in the chair across from him, feeling like a child sent to the principal's office. It’s no surprise to anybody that you and Demi had another fight; what was a surprise was the fact that you had gotten in her face and pushed her hard enough to knock her on her ass. 

“It was stupid of you to escalate it like that, you do realize she could get the police involved, right? You could lose your job for this,” Kathy says, sitting next to John with her arms crossed in disappointment.

You sigh and shake your head, “Listen, I know I shouldn’t have gotten physical with her but she was being, excuse my language, a fucking cunt. The way she talks about the other counselors and about the campers is bullshit. The shit she was saying about Jason was unacceptable, she should feel lucky I didn’t slap the shit out of her instead.” 

John and Kathy sigh, looking at one another before looking back at you. “We know that she isn’t exactly the nicest person all the time but you cannot get violent with her. We’re gonna talk to her too but we’re gonna have to punish you. You’re on dish duty by yourself for the rest of the week.”

You sit there slack jawed, “By myself? Jesus Christ, just fire me instead…”

Kathy snorts and shakes her head, “We could’ve done worse, just take your punishment and don’t get into a fight with her again. We really don’t wanna have to fire you.”

You groan, “Fine I’ll take it off property next time…” You get up from the chair and head out of the office to go to the mess hall where everyone else is eating breakfast.

You feel grateful they didn’t just fire you or do something like make you clean the bathroom with just a toothbrush. You push open the doors of the mess hall, heading to the empty line to grab food. “Hey! I grabbed your breakfast for you already,” Jason calls from his table. He’s sat with Claire, Shannon, Bobby, and Chris. You head over to the table, sliding into the seat next to him.

“Thanks, Jason.” He slides the tray over to you. He’s memorized your breakfast order already.

“So, how’d it go with John and Kathy?” Asks Claire, taking a sip of her orange juice.

“Better than I thought actually, I’m on dish duty by myself for the rest of the week. I mean it’s still not great but it’s way better than like getting fired I guess…”

“Wow, maybe you really are their favorite.” Claire laughs.

“Bullshit, we all know it’s Jason.”

He turns to look over at the two of you, “Hm? What about me?”

You take a bite of your toast, “You’re John and Kathy’s favorite.”

He blushes, smiling shyly. “Oh, I don’t know about that…I wouldn’t say-”

“I would. Claire, what about you, do you think Jason’s their favorite?”

She smiles and nods, “Definitely.”

Jason rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to defend himself but you grab an apple slice off his place and shove it in his mouth. “Shut up and take the compliment.” He chews obediently. 

Bobby leans over from across the table, Chris and Shannon deep in a conversation of their own. “So, what did you and Demi fight over this time? Trying to decide who gets me?” He asks, cocking an eyebrow. 

You roll your eyes, “Bobby I can promise no one in camp is fighting over you. Unless they’re fighting over who gets to kick your ass first.”

He glares, “Uh you don’t know that.”

“I do. I promise.”

“But seriously, what was that fight about? It had to have been pretty serious for you to have to knock her on her ass like that.” 

You sigh, trying to decide the best way to explain things. “Well, Demi was talking shit about someone who didn’t deserve it so I had to put her in her place.” 

He chuckles, Claire and Jason leaning in to listen to the conversation. “What’d she say that was so bad? Did she say something about me, did you defend my honor?”

“When have you ever had honor?” You roll your eyes.

“Just tell us what she said that set you off like that, c’mon don’t leave us waiting!”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, you know if you told them everything Jason would get his feelings hurt. “She said something shitty about Jason. It’s not important.”

Before anyone else can ask more questions to bell rings signaling that breakfast is over. “Looks like I’ve got shit to do, I’ll see y’all later.” You head towards the kitchen, dumping the rest of your breakfast in the trash. There’s already a stack of trays and plates waiting for your attention. You groan at the sight, grabbing an apron off the hook along with a pair of gloves. The rest of the counselors round up their campers, Kathy taking care of yours till you’re done with the dishes. You lean back against the counter and watch as everyone piles up their plates and trays as they leave for the day's activities. Jason’s last out of the mess hall, he looks over at you with a pity smile and a wave. “See you later, yeah?” He calls as he exits the mess hall.

“Don’t get your hopes up Hochberg, I might just drown myself in the sink and put myself out of my misery!” You yell back, watching with a smirk. His cargo shorts do nothing for his ass but that doesn’t make it any less enjoyable to watch him walk away. 

He peeks his head back in, “Don’t, please! You can’t leave me with Bobby all summer!”

“You’ll live!” You playfully blow him a kiss before he heads back outside, you can’t see it from where you stand but his cheeks turn red from your gesture. 

You turn back with a sigh to face the massive pile of dishes everyone has left for you, you’re gonna be here awhile. You grab the old radio from the storage closet and turn it to a pop station to try and make things a little more bearable. You hum along to the music as you start to clean, starting with the trays first since they’re the easiest and least messy. You find yourself falling into a rhythm, now caught up in your work as you hum along with the music. You’re so caught up with it that you don’t even notice Jason slipping back into the kitchen to join you. After hearing that you’d stood up for him he couldn’t help but feel like he owed you some help as a thank you. 

He slips into the mess hall, hearing the radio playing from the kitchen. You’re busy and focused on your work, it makes him happy to see that you aren’t completely miserable. He sneaks his way behind you, quickly grabbing your waist. You jump about a foot in the air and scream like you’re being murdered. Jason backs away and starts to laugh until it hurts, tears streaming down his face as you try to compose yourself. You back yourself against the sink, gripping the counter behind you as you watch him laugh. 

“Is it really that funny Jason? Really?” You ask in annoyance, narrowing your eyes at him.

He slaps his knee cartoonishly, “It’s a knee slapper!”

You quickly reconsider your friendship with him. You’re convinced that the universe makes him do something cringe every ten seconds to balance out how hot he is. “You’re the worst.”

He smiles playfully, wiping the tears from his eyes. “I think I might be the best actually, I came to help you after all…buuuutttt if I’m the worst I could always just go find something else to do…” He threatens jokingly.

You spring forward and grab his wrist, “Please stay…if I can only listen to pop music all day I might go insane, a familiar face would be nice even if it comes with corny jokes.”

“You love my jokes, you always laugh.”

You roll your eyes and don’t even bother to bite back your smile, “I do…”

“Mhm, you know you do…I’ll be nice and give you some more help. I heard you stuck up for me and that’s why you’re stuck doing this, is that true?” He asks as he grabs some gloves and an apron, suiting up to help you tackle the seemingly endless pile of dishes.

You turn back to the sink, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah, uh, you don’t owe me for it or anything. I just wasn’t gonna let her talk about you like that.” You pick up a nearby dish and continue with your work.

He slides up next to you, reaching over you to grab a plate. His arm grazes your chest and your breath hitches, you feel your cheeks heat up as he pulls the plate back over to him. “Did Demi really say something bad about me? I thought we were friends…she was probably just kidding!” Jason has always been naive, bless his heart. That poor boy would apologize to the pole he ran into.

You remember arriving at camp at the beginning of the summer and seeing Demi with her nice car stocked full of her suitcases and watching in anger as she let Jason carry them all to her cabin by himself. You’d grabbed a few from the car so that it wouldn’t all be left up to him. You’d followed him to her cabin, watching as he stumbled bringing them in.

“Can you be careful with those…” Demi snarks, rolling her eyes as she scrolled on her phone. 

“Sorry, Demi!��� Jason laughs as he tries to set her things down gently.

You shot her a glare and rolled the remaining suitcases in a bit too rough, she looked up from her phone to return your glare. “Oops…” You deadpan, staring her down. Jason remains oblivious to the tension, leaning up against the doorway.

“Well uh…see ya…” She says dismissively, waving her hand at him to make him leave.

“Yeah, it’s great to see you too!” Jason smiles, a bit out of breath. “It’s just so good to be back.”

Demi ignores his existence but he doesn’t take the hint. “You know what they always say! You can’t spell Pineway without eway.”

Demi finally looks up from her phone, giving Jason a confused look. “What?”

Jason continues on with his joke, “Because I can’t stay eway from this place!”

Demi looks annoyed by his mere existence but shoots him a pity smile, “Okay cool.”

You take that as your cue to save that sweet boy from anymore embarrassment, you turn back around with a smile. “You wanna help me and Claire get settled, we’ve got that cabin with the difficult door handle.”

He looks at you like a puppy looks at a new toy, if he had a tail it’d be wagging. “Of course, uh, Demi don’t forget I’m cooking lunch in a bit! I can make a mean burger!”

Demi nods and you drag Jason out of the cabin by his wrist, muttering under your breath about what a bitch she is. Jason is off in his own world telling you how excited he is to be back.

“I don’t think she was kidding this time, J. She didn’t seem like it at least…I mean I wouldn’t get in her face and push her like that over a little joke, I was ready to really kick her ass…”

He turns to look at you in shock, reaching down to grab your wrist. “It was that serious, I mean I’d heard you gotten physical but I didn’t know…what did she say?”

You sigh, “You really don’t wanna know, it’s for the best if I don’t tell you.”

His expression hardens, “I do want to know. I deserve to know if it was about me.”

“Jason seriously it was-”

His grip on your wrist tightens unconsciously, “Please, I’m an adult I can handle it.”

“Fine…” you sigh, “I’ll tell you.”

You were coming out of your shared cabin with Claire, the morning sun shining down on the camp. It was early, too early, the dew was still fresh. You were dressed in a green tank top, a flowy linen button down thrown over top, and a pair of denim shorts that hit a bit above your knee. You make your way to the rec room hoping to watch an old movie before everyone else wakes up and claims the tv. You pull open the wooden door, the hinges creaking loudly. As you walk inside you see Demi sitting on the couch, an old teen magazine in hand. The tv is off so you take your chance to use it, going over to the stack of vhs’s, sorting through the available films. You mentally curse Kathy and John for only keeping a supply of family friendly films, the best you can get out of the stack is Poltergeist. You thank the ratings board for not introducing the pg-13 rating until two years later, giving you a loop hole into having an actual horror film to watch at camp. You take it out of the case and pop it into the vcr. You grab the remote and plop down onto the couch and sit down next to Demi. She glances over at you in disgust and scoots away. “Sorry, you worried you’re gonna catch something?”

“I don’t know what weirdo disease you carry around from hanging out with Hochberg,” she retorts.

Your brows furrow in anger and annoyance, “What the fuck? It’s six in the morning, it’s too early for you to be an asshole like that!”

She rolls her eyes, not looking up from the magazine. “I don’t get why you hang out with him, you’re like actually pretty y’know. He’s such a fucking loser, what do you see in him?”

You turn to face her wearing an angry expression. “He’s not a loser, he’s sweet and he actually gives a fuck about his job. He’s nice to everyone, even you, and god knows you don’t deserve his kindness.”

She laughs, “More like oblivious. You could punch him in the face and he’d take it as something sweet.”

She’s not wrong but she doesn’t get to say that about him. “Yeah, he can be a little oblivious, sure. But at least he’s kind, at least he’s always positive. Do you know how much the kids look up to him? They love him.”

“Yeah, they’re the only ones…” She scoffs.

You clench your fists, “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

She tilts her head, finally looking up from her magazine. “Oh honey, you don’t know? Jason has zero game, like none at all. It’s sad honestly, he’s probably gonna be alone forever. It’s pathetic. You know makeout point?”

You nod in response, confused about where this is going.

“He’s never been. I heard he doesn’t even know it exists. He’s gone to this camp since he was a kid and he’s never been anyone's camp crush, never even gotten a pity kiss at makeout point. He’s nothing but a fucking loser, he’s gonna be alone forever.” 

Sadness fills your chest, bubbling up to your throat. You imagine teenage Jason being left out by all the others, people whispering behind his back, girls asking him out as a joke. It breaks your heart into a million pieces. “And that’s funny to you?” Your voice shakes.

“It’s hilarious. He doesn’t even know how much of a loser he is. He’s a clumsy dorky loser, you know it’s true. He’s twenty fucking four and he still goes to summer camp,” she replies ruthlessly.

You jump to your feet in anger, “As a counselor.”

She stands in response, “Does it matter? He’s still trying to rehash his glory days that weren’t even glorious, he’s pathetic. You need to hang out with someone better like Ari, Bobby and Chris aren’t doing you many favors either.” 

You get in her face, anger fueling your every move. “Fuck you and your superficial bullshit, Demi. I don’t care what you say, I’ll never see him as pathetic.”

She laughs in your face, “Yeah, well maybe you can take him up to makeout point and be his first kiss. He’d probably cum in his cargo shorts,” she snorts. 

You don’t know what comes over you but you shove her back hard. She hits the ground, the breath getting knocked out of her from the force. She gasps and the door slams open, Kathy walking in angrily. She looks down at Demi on the floor and then back up to you. “Wait outside, now!” She yells. You sigh knowing you’re about to get yelled at, walking out the door. You fight the urge to spit at Demi as you walk past. Kathy helps her up and onto the couch and Demi starts to tearfully give her side of the story. You can hear her playing it up for Kathy and you clench your fists again. Your fingernails leave deep indents in your palm as you angrily grind your nails into your delicate flesh.

You think back to Jason, you’ve been shamelessly crushing on him ever since you met last summer. Last summer he was cleanly shaved, his wavy hair a bit shorter than it is now. You remember how he greeted you with a toothy grin and a dorky pun, offering to help you with your bags and walk you to your cabin as he introduced himself to you. You were new to the area and decided to take the summer job as a way to make some friends, he made you feel so welcomed that you became friends immediately. You resented the way the other counselors spoke to him, you and Claire were really the only ones who were kind to him. It never bothered him, he was kind to everyone and strode past the rude remarks almost as if he didn’t hear them. You admired him for it and also pitied him, you knew he deserved better treatment and you had no problem making that known to everyone else. Every time he looks at you it sets your body ablaze, every time he touches you it feels impossible to do anything but lean into it. You’re whipped and you’re not ashamed to say it.

When Demi finishes giving her sob story Kathy grabs you by the arm and leads you to the office, a few campers and nosy counselors who are already up peek out of their cabin windows, already gossiping about what trouble you could’ve gotten into.

“She…she said all that?” Sadness washes over his face, he looks down at the floor as his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. He lets go of your wrist, his hands falling to his sides in defeat. No one had ever said anything like that to his face, Demi technically hadn’t but somehow hearing it from you made it hurt worse.

“Jason,” you reach over and grab his hand, grasping it tightly in embrace. “I don’t care that you haven’t been to makeout point. It’s a dumb little makeout spot with a cheesy name, it means nothing.”

He takes a breath, “It does to everyone else. I mean, she’s right I didn’t know it existed until me and Claire went on a hike. She told me she recognized a tree, I made fun of her for it, and then she said she recognized it because it was makeout point. I felt so stupid…all these years, over a decade and I didn’t know it existed…I mean, maybe Demi’s right, maybe I am pathetic…”

You pull him into you, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at you. “Fuck that and fuck her. She’s an uptight little bitch with a Tik Tok career she can’t even get off the ground, what does she know?”

“She knows where makeout point is apparently…”

You roll your eyes, “Fuck makeout point. It doesn’t matter, Jason. I don’t care that no one ever took you, well no I care a little, it breaks my heart that no one ever took you. You’ve had to deal with bullying for decades at this shit hole and that makes me so mad.” You start to tear up and try to blink it away, “Do you know how great you are? I was so worried when I got here last year that I wouldn’t make any friends and there you were with that adorable smile to greet me. You were so nice, so welcoming. God I thought it might’ve been an act at first but you never stopped being kind, not even to those assholes who made fun of you to your face and said even worse things behind your back. You’re not pathetic, you’re not a loser, you’re so kind and funny. I love your dorky little jokes, I love how I can’t fight off my smile when you hit me with a pun. You’re like the embodiment of sunshine and nothing Demi ever says is gonna change my mind about that, okay?”

He stands there in silence taking it all in, your grip on his face has him unable to look away from you. He watches the tears rolling down your cheeks after your passionate speech. “You really think that about me?”

You nod, letting go of his chin and wiping away your tears. “Yeah, I do. I regret not saying it sooner because I feel like all you ever hear is this vitriolic shit from everyone else and-”

He interrupts you, “Can I take you to makeout point?”

Now it’s your turn to be shocked, you stumble over your words as your body heats up, “What?”

“I wanna take you to makeout point…if you’d like that…” He says shyly.

You couldn’t fight off your smile if you tried, “I would like that…what about my punishment though, John and Kathy are gonna flip their shit if I don’t get this done before lunch.”

“Well it’s a good thing you have an assistant, huh?” He smirks, picking up the plate he’d been cleaning before.

You smile, “I couldn’t ask for anyone better…”

The work goes by quickly with Jason by your side, the two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm. You listen to him tell stories from past years at camp and occasionally sing and dance along to the songs on the radio. Jason’s dorky dance moves make you laugh harder than you thought you would today. He always has a way of making things better.

Finally you’re putting away the last dish when Jason comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. He pulls you against his chest and settles his head on your shoulder. “You ready to go to makeout point with me?” He teases, his breath feels warm on your neck. You wish you could kiss him right here right now but you’ll let him have his fantasy.

“Mhm, you have me all excited. I feel like a teenager sneaking off at a party,” you laugh. Jason reaches around you and takes the plate from your hands, setting it on the pile for you. 

He turns you around, untying your apron for you. He pulls it off your body, removing your gloves next before throwing away the gloves and rehanging the apron. “Let’s get going before Kathy and John realize where we’ve gone.” 

You smile and take his hand, letting him lead you out the door. “Do you remember where it is?”

He moves like he’s on a mission, “Mhm, it’s not hard to find now that I know where to look. I know these woods like the back of my hand.”

“I like a man who knows his way around,” you tease.

“You must be obsessed with me then,” he laughs.

He leads you through the woods with ease, pointing out some pretty spots until you make your way to makeout point. It’s a small area off in the trees, a boulder sits as coverage for couples. You let him lead you behind the boulder, sitting next to him on the ground, your knees touching. “So this is it, huh?” He says, looking around the area. “Not that impressive.”

You chuckle, “I don’t think many people come here for the scenery.”

He cocks his head to the side like a confused puppy, “Oh really? Mind educating me on why they come here?” You watch as he smirks, feeling pretty proud of his line.

You stare at him wide eyed, your mouth agape. “Jason Hochberg, did you just flirt with me?”

His cheeks turn pink, “I…um, did you not like-”

You grab his chin and turn his face towards you, leaning over quickly and cutting him off with a kiss. Every ounce of restraint you’ve had this summer melts away as your lips melt against his. He’s slow to kiss you back, taking his sweet time to register what’s happening. You can tell he’s inexperienced and out of practice but that doesn’t make it any less enjoyable. He pulls away after awhile, resting his forehead against yours with a smile. “So you liked it?”

“Of course I liked it, you fucking dork.” You peck his lips playfully.

“You think you would’ve brought me here if we’d gone to camp together?” He asks. He pulls away from you and leans against the rock, spreading his legs.

You take that as a signal to slot yourself between his legs, leaning back into his chest, “Of course I would’ve. I bet you would’ve been all nervous and red, adorable…”

“I’ve gotten better at hiding my nervousness,” he mumbles. He wraps an arm around your chest, holding you against him. He leans his head forward and rests his chin on your shoulder. “I wanna kiss you again.”

You turn back around, sitting on your knees as you face him. “So kiss me then.”

He cups your face in his hands, taking a minute to admire your features, “You’re so pretty.”

Before you can try to respond he kisses you, he clearly took notes from the first kiss, it’s sweet. He kisses you like you’re his first love, and maybe you are. It doesn’t take long for you to deepen the kiss, your hand moving to his hip to push him back against the rock. Your other hand going up to tangle in his hair and pull him closer to you. He whines softly into your mouth and you run your tongue across his lower lip. He parts his lips, letting your tongue slip in. He’s never kissed like this before as he struggles to keep up, what he lacks in experience he makes up for in passion. You tug softly at his hair and smirk into the kiss at how he whimpers. His hands go to your hips, pulling you against him. You’re just about to roll your hips against his when you hear footsteps. You pull away from Jason with wide eyes, “Someone’s coming.” Now you really feel like a teenager sneaking around.

You and Jason work quickly to adjust each other's appearances to look more presentable. The sound of two voices becomes more and more audible.

“C’mon Mike this is the only chance we’ll get, I have to get back to my campers in like 30 minutes.” It’s Demi. You look at Jason with a smirk and he’s starting to crack a smile. 

“You wanna fuck with her?” You ask, leaning back in.

He nods and pulls you back in for another kiss, this time it’s more passionate and desperate. His fingers curl around the hem of your shirt, pulling you in closer against him. You tangle your fingers back in his hair, pulling harder to get him to make the sounds you love oh so much. He whines pathetically against your lips and you slip your tongue back in his mouth. His hips involuntarily buck up against yours and now it’s your turn to whine. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire. You almost forget what the plan was until you hear a loud gasp from behind you.

“Oh my god…” Demi exclaims from behind you.

You pull away from Jason, fingers still tangled in his hair as you turn to face her. “Sorry Demi, it’s occupied right now…” You tease.

“Why the hell aren’t you still doing dishes? Did you skip out to come out here with him?”

You smile up at her, “He helped me finish early actually…” Jason snorts at your innuendo. 

She groans in annoyance and frustration, gripping Mike's hand. “Whatever, it’s contaminated now. We’ll just use the rec room…” She starts walking off, pulling Mike along with her. She makes sure to shoot you a glare before disappearing into the woods.

You look back at Jason and burst into laughter, falling into him as you do. Once you compose yourself you lay back against his chest once again, draping his arm over your chest and playing with the bracelets on his wrist. “She’s such a bitch…” you mumble.

“I wouldn’t say that. She just…doesn’t like us…”

You can’t help but smile as he continues to try and see the positive in her. “You’re too good for Pineway, I’m packing you up in my suitcase and taking you home with me.”

He looks down at you with a smile, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Promise.”

“Pinky promise,” you giggle, linking your pinky with his.

“We should probably head back before John and Kathy get suspicious…”

You groan, holding his arm tight against you. “Do we have to? I think I have some more makeouts left.”

He chuckles, “We’ll sneak off again later, I won’t leave you high and dry.”

“Good boy…” You mumble, going to stand. He sits there with pink cheeks as you turn back around and offer your hand to help him up. He slings his arm around your waist as you start to walk back to camp. “So Hochberg, what's your review of makeout point now that you’ve gone?”

“Hm…I think I see the appeal now. I think we’re going to spend a lot of our free time here.”

You cock your eyebrow at him, “Oh are we now?”

“Mhm, I just decided that for us,” Jason retorts, pecking your cheek again.

“For once I won’t argue.”

Jason decides to bold and slip his hand into your back pocket. He leans into you, whispering in your ear, “Good girl.”

[bernardsbendystraws]

Fresh Air

Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Check out my pinned post for more of my writing.

00 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 FINAL

Summary: One night at a party seems to change everything. A strange man with a friendly smile and a sleeve of patchwork tattoos seems to make you feel at home for a change. You're finally happy to have made a good friend to lean on - especially when it comes to your not-so-great relationship with your boyfriend. But what happens if you lean too much...what happens if you fall?

Warnings: 18+. This series contains mature themes, read at your own risk. (SMUT, angst, parental troubles, financial hardships, and more. Don't like, don't read.) This warning is made for all parts.

A/N: To be added to the taglist, send a request in my inbox or comment on the pinned post. I'm far more likely to see requests sent to my inbox.

With love and big tits, Rose.

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05: Building Up Like Waves

I was still in Matt’s hoodie. And under his blankets. 

We had gone on a walk and Matt had let me yapp the entire time. He even wanted me to talk the whole car ride too. Wrong turns had made the quick ten minute drive from the park somehow turn into over an hour. 

I knew what he was doing. 

Those weren’t wrong turns. I doubt he didn’t have any fun stories to catch me up on from the past week, but he didn’t interrupt me once. I couldn’t complain. I felt even better somehow. It wasn’t all being trapped in my head anymore and it didn’t feel so lonely to think about that night.

I didn’t feel lonely at all. 

“Hey, where’s my toothbrush?” I ask, shuffling around in the top left drawer of his bathroom vanity. It’s usually here–in the little tray next to his, but it’s empty. I don’t even see his toothbrush. 

“Well,” Matt starts. By the tone in his voice my lips already start to curl upward. What is he up to? Anticipation pokes at my skin as I watch him pull something from behind his back while standing in the doorway. “-I got these…” 

A break of giggles from my end makes my gut hurt. I feel my hand clutch onto my stomach through the soft, thick fabric of his hoodie. 

“Matt–” I snort harder, grabbing the toothbrush packages from his hand. “Why the–”

“For fun!” he exclaims, his hands waving in the air dramatically. His lips smack and part with mischief and pride as he watches me hunch over with laughter again. “--do you,” he snickers, “--do you not like ‘em?” he asks. 

Straightening my posture, I place the two small packages on the bathroom counter, my hands flying up and messing up his hair. “Of course I love them you idiot!” I announce, laughing softly as Matt’s hands wrap around my wrists and pull my hands to his chest gently. 

“I…” My eyes meet his as he looks up at me with a sparkling joy. His hands hold mine a little tighter as he keeps his gaze pinned on me, his lips pressing gently onto my knuckles as I swallow thickly. “I–”

“You…” Matt interrupts, squinting his eyes with a flourishing excitement as I stammer over my words. 

Shaking my head, I let out a sigh of disbelief as I push against his chest, “I can’t believe you got us character themed toothbrushes. The ones they get for kids!” 

His chest rumbles with hushed laughter as he twiddles his fingers around my hands. “I know, isn’t it fun though? You said you never got one as a kid,” he says. 

I never got one as a kid, I barely even remembered telling him that. 

But, he remembered. 

He always remembered because he always cared. I didn’t even have to ask for him to care. 

What if I hadn’t said yes to Hayden that day? What if Matt and I had…

No.

Bad thoughts. 

That’s cheating. 

Is this cheating?

“I, um…” I try to retrace my steps as overflowing thoughts flood my brain. It was just a thought. “--I can’t believe you remembered,” I remark, my tone reeking of the tooth-rotting smile covering my face. 

I can’t believe he cared enough to remember and do something so minor just to give me that piece of…innocence. 

Looking back up, my chest tightens as I feel his gaze pour onto me with intensity. It’s a toothbrush—a fucking toothbrush. 

I can feel tears pricking the corner of my eyes with warmth from overwhelming emotions. Happiness with something lingering sadness. I got it now—he thought I deserved to have such a stupid thing—a toothbrush. Why didn’t my parents?  

Why didn’t I?

Buying toothpaste always made me a little sad–buying anything always made me a little sad. I saw all the colorful, nostalgic things. The things I never got. It’s not like my family had been broke either. They were just cheap. The other toothbrushes did the same thing. It wasn’t necessary. 

But they bought other things. My parents bought fancy cruises, all the luxuries some people dreamed about. 

All the luxuries that didn’t really last. 

Those trips were only a glimpse of what things could be. Dad would be happy to finally be away from work—one of the few occasions we truly laughed together—not talked, laughed. I couldn’t remember one meaningful conversation with him. 

And mom…she was somehow worse. 

She stood and watched him step on my innocence, crushing my hopes everytime he ignored me or yelled. 

I just wanted her to be there for me—I didn’t realize anything was wrong until a lot later than I should’ve.

Just like now. 

This wasn’t right. Hayden had no right to put that kind of pressure on me for sex. 

“Hey…are you…are you okay?” 

Reality.

I’m here—with Matt. A stupid, Pokemon toothbrush staring at me practically. 

“I just—I’m about to cry over a fucking toothbrush,” I exclaim, laughing as a tear falls from my cheek. 

“Don’t!” I start, lifting up my hand as I aggressively use the sleeve of the hoodie to brush away the warm tears. “--don’t. This is embarrassing. This isn’t happening,” I joke. 

Matt’s head shakes back and forth with humorous disbelief. He cups my cheeks in both his hands, softly wiping the tear stains as I stare up at the ceiling. 

“Hey—it’s okay. I…I’m sorry, but it’s funny—it’s cute,” he laughs.

Cute.

He thinks it’s cute?

A blush covers my cheeks before I can stop it. My widened eyes watch as he hunches over with giggles spilling from his lips profusely. Shame paints over my face as I push his hands away and cover my face with my hands. 

“Ugh!” 

My loud ruff seems to catch his attention. The burn of embarrassment bubbling in the pit of my gut leaves my muscles tensing as I feel his grab my wrist lightly and hold them as if he’s praying. 

“No, no—” his eyes pour into mine with apologetic sympathy as he tries to keep a straight face, “--just, let’s brush our teeth and go to bed.” 

Nodding in agreement, I watch with a warm heart as he unpackages the toothbrushes. He puts a line of toothpaste on the bristles. With a soft smile, he outreaches it to me. 

And I didn’t even have to ask. 

Matt smiles at me in the mirror as I swirl the brush along my teeth. It feels refreshing.

__________

The cool night air contrasted with the heat swarming beneath the comforter. 

Fuck, it’s hot. 

“Mmph, I…” 

Oh.

Matt’s hands are clutching into my hips, a hard bulge grinding into my core as my mouth drops wide. 

God, it feels like fucking heaven. 

The fog of sleep clouding my mind leaves me with nothing but instinct, my own hips swiveling to combat his motions. My head cranes back against his chest, his warm breath tickling behind my ear. 

He’s so hard. 

Hayden.

Fuck. This is wrong.

This is definitely wrong. 

“I…Matt,” I croak, whispering into the air as my hands latch over his wrists. 

Silence. Quiet air is only broken by muffled whines vibrating against my neck where his lips hover.

He’s still asleep. 

“Doll….-’m…close…” 

Doll. 

The name he likes to call me. 

Only me. 

He’s dreaming about me.

Matt’s hips drive faster, rocking and tensing as hard as possible. The blistering warmth crawling in my chest is overwhelming, but intoxicating. 

He’s close. So close. The desperate moans, his hands clutching even tighter and pulling me closer—he’s so close.

“Matt, wake—”

My words hitch as his nails dig into my skin, his hips tensing more and more. 

Wake him up.

The three-worded chant is clouded by every sensation—his hair tickling my ear, his lips puffing against my neck, and…his hard, clothed cock rutting against the growing heat between my legs. 

Nothing like this has ever felt like this. 

I can’t think….I can’t stop.

A broken whine echoes from my lips as I feel a warm liquid smother through the thin pajama pants, a lengthened groan stringing from him against my neck. It feels so good. 

It feels so good making him feel so good. 

Doll. The name he only calls me. He’s thinking of me, holding me. He wants me subconsciously.

Does he want me consciously too?

Hayden. Fuck.

Guilt creeps in as I feel Matt fall limp and unmoving. Even breaths from his chest press against me. The huffed breaths turn into soft snores, the same snore that made it easier to feel at peace. 

This is wrong. This is so utterly wrong. 

Despite the growing pit in my gut, my eyes lose more and more while trying to fight gravity. It’s just so warm—so intoxicating. It doesn’t feel like anything is wrong when I’m in his arms. 

Even the guilt doesn’t compare to the amount of peace. 

[songbirdseung]

𝑳𝑶𝑵𝑮𝑰𝑵𝑮 what's the healing kit to a desperate and needy heart? a busy mind racing with only thoughts of when you'll be in his arms again. what kind of treatment is needed for a soul that yearns for him? sim jaeyun (i basically wrote about how much i miss and need jakey bakey)

It’s exhausting, isn’t it?

Wanting something so badly, needing it so deeply that nothing else satisfies. No distraction soothes your restless heart or quiets your racing mind. It’s tiring, chasing something you can’t hold or reach, especially when all life gives you is silence. Just waiting, and waiting, and waiting because life never seems to offer the moment you need. The break you crave. The peace you’re desperate for.

Maybe it sounds dramatic. But to you? It’s valid. You just missed him. Longed for him in the kind of way that settled into your bones.

The FaceTime calls, the texts, the endless reassurance—they were never enough. You stayed up alone most nights, watching the hours slip into dawn. Filling your days with tasks, with work, with anything that might dull the ache. But it didn’t help. Everything reminded you of him anyway. That stupid, charismatic charm you loved so much, you saw it everywhere. And his laugh? God, that laugh. Just the thought of it made you smile, made your chest ache. It echoed in your head, played on repeat like a melody you couldn’t turn off.

Sim Jaeyun. Why were you so addictive? Why did you make me feel this way?

He was busy, always busy touring the world, performing to thousands, collecting awards like stars. Recording, practicing, perfecting. For himself. For his team. For his fans.

And for a moment, you started to wonder… Does he even have time to think about me?

But oh, how wrong you were.

Because every time that screen lit up, and his face appeared, tired but still beautiful, you knew. You knew he missed you. You could see it in the way his smile faltered the second your eyes met. In the way he mirrored your soft, lovesick expression through a 13-inch display like it was the only thing grounding him.

He looked at you like you were air. And he needed to breathe.

“You can’t just look at me like that,” he murmured, his thumb hovering over the screen, slowly tracing the image of your cheek. “It makes me want to fly over, pack your bags myself, and take you with me. No arguments. Just keep you here. With me.”

You laughed, the sound slipping out like sunlight after rain. “That sounds... very stalker-ish, baby.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips, just the kind of look he learned from you. His tone matched yours, teasing, warm. “Shut up. My intentions are clean. Completely romantic. And one hundred percent approved by you.”

Being with Jake wasn’t just love. It was home.

There was something about him, something in the way he looked at you, the way he spoke to you like you were the most important thing in the world. He made you feel seen. Cherished. Safe. And because of that, you wanted to give him the world right back.

You did what you could. Sending him gifts, whether handmade or surprise deliveries to his hotels. Checking in constantly, making sure he was eating right, that he was getting enough rest, that his smile wasn’t just for show.

You wanted to give him so much more. You wanted to be there. But distance didn’t care. Distance didn’t bend.

And you didn’t know when the day would come, the day you’d run into his arms, bury your face in his neck, and finally breathe like nothing else mattered.

“Just a little longer, baby,” he whispered through the screen.

You let out a quiet sigh, trying not to sound too broken. “That’s what you said last time, Yunie…”

And something about the way you said it. so soft, so defeated made his heart clench, made guilt crawl up his throat even though none of this was your fault. Or his.

He sat up straighter, eyes locked on yours, voice firmer now. “I mean it this time. We’ll be together soon. I swear. Trust me.” And you did.

Because that was your baby, your love. Your Jaeyun.

And if he said soon…You'd believe him. Even if the waiting hurt.

You were already halfway out the door, coat slipping off one shoulder, keys clenched between your fingers, bag awkwardly slung across your arm. Just another morning. Another day pretending everything was fine. Another eight hours of pushing through the ache in your chest like it wasn’t there.

Your hand was on the doorknob, pulling it open with a sigh caught in your throat when you froze.

He was standing right there.

Jake.

Hair messy from travel. Hoodie too big, sleeves tugged over his palms. Duffel bag slung lazily over his shoulder. And that smile, the one you hadn’t seen in weeks outside of a glowing screen. A little crooked. A little shy. But so Jake.

Your breath caught.

You blinked once. Twice.

“Surprise,” he said softly, like the word might break if he said it too loud.

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. Your bag slipped from your shoulder and hit the floor with a dull thud. The keys in your hand clattered somewhere near your feet.

Jake’s smile faltered just slightly. “Is… is this okay?”

And then you were in his arms.

You threw yourself forward without thinking, colliding into his chest with enough force to nearly knock him back a step. His arms wrapped around you instantly, tightly, holding you like he didn’t want to let go ever again. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling everything. His scent, the warmth of his skin, the quiet hum in his chest when he let out a shaky breath.

“You idiot,” you whispered against his collarbone, voice thick with tears. “You absolute idiot.”

Jake laughed softly, pressing his face into your hair. “Takes one to love one.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes swimming, hands still gripping the front of his hoodie like you couldn’t trust this was real yet.

“What about your schedule? The tour, your rehearsals-”

“I don’t care,” he said, brushing his fingers gently along your jaw. “I needed to see you. I missed you so much I was going insane. So I moved things. Changed flights. Said screw it. And now I’m here.”

You leaned up and kissed him quick, but desperate. He sighed into it, his hands tightening on your waist like he was afraid you’d disappear.

You smiled through the sting in your eyes. “You just made me want to call in sick.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, playful. “Oh no. Don’t let me ruin your very important, definitely not soul-crushing job.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up. I’m serious.”

He shrugged, stepping inside and kicking the door shut behind him. “Cool. Because I already ordered breakfast for us. And I’m not letting you go for the next twelve hours minimum.”

You laughed an honest, full laugh you hadn’t heard from yourself in too long. “You planned this?”

“Duh,” he said, dropping his bag and pulling you back into his arms. “I needed to make sure you’d be too full, too cuddled, and way too distracted to think about anything else but me.”

“Well,” you mumbled into his hoodie, “mission accomplished, Yunie.”

He hummed, kissing the top of your head, arms swaying gently side to side like the two of you were slow dancing in silence.

You didn’t go to work that day.

Instead, you curled up on the couch, tangled in blankets and each other, his hand never once leaving your body. You ate breakfast off paper plates and fed him bites of your toast. He kissed your forehead between every mouthful. You watched some movie you didn’t remember the name of, because all you could focus on was how it felt to finally have him here. warm, real, yours.

And when he pulled you close, whispering “Told you we’d be together soon,” you believed him.

Because he always kept his promises.

Especially the ones that mattered most.

[sevgilimsatoru]

Error: 410 (Self Aware!AU Caleb Edition) Part 14

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 15 A/N

Summary: A self aware!AU with Caleb and NonMC! reader.

Tags: Caleb x reader, Caleb x NonMC! reader, Caleb x fem!reader, fluff, Stressedout!reader, Hypersexual!reader.

Word count: 910

Inspired by: @ittybittyfanblog

A/N: Short chapter, it's not that good I think. Have a nice day!

"You bloomed from the abyss Climbing walls to reach the sky See the universe shine And the starlight in your eyes

When the darkness blinds my sight I will find you by your scent If I slumber forevermore Tell me you won’t leave my world"

You have a new message from Caleb!

"Returning to this world with you by my side is the greatest miracle... that fate has given me"

“No, I get it. I’m just glad you are here.” Your fingers caressed Caleb's cheek as you spoke. You were both lying in your bed, just talking about whatever came to mind.

You still couldn’t believe he was here... It had been a few hours since he picked you up from work. From the moment he brought you home, you were trying to soak up his presence as much as you could.

“So… what did you do in these past four years?” You said, poking his cheek. Looking at the soft smile on his face. He just shrugged in return.

“Well, when I first came to this world, it was very different from what I’m used to. I knew I had to find you, of course, but I had to learn how to live here first.” Caleb said, squishing your cheek as he chuckled, “I wanted to get a job that was at least familiar to me. Get myself through flight school to get the job I wanted.”

“How did you even get the money to get yourself into flight school? Isn’t it expensive?”

“Yeah, it is. Well, I did a lot of odd jobs. For loans I needed to have an identity, but I wasn’t exactly a real person until a few years ago. So, I had to get myself registered on documents. I was working while gettin’ myself through flight school.”

“When my studying was finally complete, I spent the better part of last year gettin’ a job, repaying my loans, and trying to find you.” Caleb said, his shoulders sagging, he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you. “It was hard, but I could endure that and more since it meant being beside you.”

“You can stay with me for a while. I can help you out with… whatever you want.” You said, your fingers curling around his shirt. Rubbing the fabric between your fingers.

“I can stay with you forever, but I’d rather not burden you.”

“It’s not a burden. You’ve got to stop trying to act so tough all the time.” You said, watching as he shifted in your arms. Resting his face in the crook of your neck, your fingers brushing his hair aside.

“I’ll be fine, sunshine. I promise, and I’m not going anywhere. Alright?”

“Alright.” You said with a sigh, it was no use trying to fight him about it, he wouldn't budge.

Caleb did start staying with you, and it was comforting having him there. Your schedules didn’t quite match, but he was here now; that should be more than enough for you.

You sighed, opening the door to your apartment. Kicking off your heels, you walked inside. Your feet were starting to hurt so bad. “I’m home,” you said, putting your bag on the couch and taking your phone out.

“Welcome back.” Caleb said, his words coming from the bedroom. You followed his voice, walking inside the bedroom to see Caleb standing in front of the mirror. He was in his uniform, getting ready. You walked up to him, wrapping your arms around him from the back.

“You have a night shift?” You asked, pressing a kiss on his arm. Watching him nod, you pulled away, walking beside him. Your hands found his tie, fixing it slightly. “Stay safe…”

Caleb chuckled in return, patting your head. “I’ll be fine, sunshine. You worry too much.” He said, waiting until you were done.

His hand wrapping around your arm, pulling you closer. His other hand held your chin, leaning his head down inches away from your face. An easy smile on his face. He saw your breath hitch, his eyes flickering down to your lips. Just waiting for a moment.

“May I?” He asked, his warm brown eyes looking into your eyes, waiting patiently for your agreement.

You let out a breath, nodding. You could feel your throat drying up. His eyes softened as his finger tapped your cheek. “Words, sunshine. I need a yes or no.”

“Yeah… yeah—you may.” You squeaked out, swallowing back the dryness in your throat.

Caleb leaned in, pressing his lips against your own. His lips felt soft, the warm breath he let out against your lips. It was slow, hesitant even, as if he was nervous about it. Caleb leaned away slightly, licking his lips before kissing you again and again. Both of his hands gently holding your face. Kissing you until you could feel air leaving your lungs.

He leaned away; the tips of his ears were flushed a pretty shade of pink. Pressing small kisses all over your face. You let out a giggle, making him smile when your hands covered his own.

When Caleb stopped, his eyes stayed glued on your face, taking you in for a few moments. He stepped back, picking up his suitcase. “I’ll get going now, otherwise I’ll be very late,” he said, walking out of the room, while you followed him behind.

You stepped in front of him, wrapping your arms around him, hugging him tightly, and he reciprocated the gesture. Squeezing you tight and then letting you go. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I will. Stay safe.” You replied, watching as he put on his shoes.

“Mhm… I’ll be back in a while.” He said, standing up straight, his hand resting softly on your head, patting it.

He sighed, walking over to the door and opening it. He looked over his shoulder, smiling at you.

“Don’t miss me too much.” Caleb said, walking out of the door and closing it behind him.

Tag list: @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @aneertawrites @etsuniiru @demon-master-zero @angstylittleb1tch @mcdepressed290 @ittybittyfanblog @winwinwrites @alifyairl @huhleighna @calebsbeanpeeler @bookworrm1999 @mentaltrouble2201 @noxus123 @babyx91 @multisstuff @beomluvrr @sunnylittleapple @lunia-likes-pomegranet @imhere2dosomething @lostpsycho13 @april-likes-smut @calebsbabyapple @mephisto-with-a-knife @wooasecret @anatherone @asgardiancoffemaker @sadsaidthesadthing @beppybeesnuggets @lilacflower667 @mangooes

[ankababy]

A Home (part 12)

Part 1 Part 11 Part 13

Chishiya x reader x Niragi

One lightbulb, one chair, one girl, one—bullet?

Niragi was still not a morning person.

Actually, scratch that—Niragi wasn’t a person who functioned at any time of day unless he had a cigarette in one hand and his gun in the other.

So when he dragged himself out of bed, still half-asleep, still rubbing his eyes, looking horrible because who the fuck was he trying to impress—

The last thing he expected was you.

Balanced on top of some fucking chair-pile contraption from hell.

He stopped dead in his tracks, one foot in the living room, one foot still in the hall, blinking hard because—

What. The fuck. Was he looking at?

You were standing—no, teetering—atop a fucking tower of stacked furniture, one foot on a chair, the other on some books stacked haphazardly on a stool.

And you were just up there.

Poking at the lamp.

Muttering under your breath.

“…The fuck are you doing?”

You turned your head over your shoulder, looking at him like he was the crazy one. “The lamp.” you said simply. “It’s not yellow enough.”

Niragi just stared.

You turned back to the lamp, squinting. “It’s supposed to be warm. Soft. Cozy. But it’s just wrong, Niragi. It’s not right.” You huffed in frustration, tapping at the glass like that would somehow make it glow the exact shade you wanted. “The aesthetic is completely ruined.”

Niragi took a slow step closer, staring at the fucking death trap of furniture you had somehow not fallen from yet.

“What the fuck are you standing on?”

“A chair.”

He gave you a blank look. “No, that—” he gestured at the entire unstable mess under you “—isn’t just a chair. That’s some final-destination-shit waiting to happen.”

“It’s fine.” you said dismissively, tapping the glass again, completely unbothered. “I made sure it was balanced.”

“Balanced?” Niragi repeated. “You’ve got a fucking stool on top of a table on top of a chair. What part of that sounds balanced to you?”

You didn’t even look at him. “The part where I haven’t fallen yet.”

Niragi just dragged a hand down his face.

This was a fucking joke.

You were rambling to yourself about the fucking hue of a fucking lightbulb, picking apart details that no one—except you—would ever give a shit about, your whole body swaying slightly as you balanced on that death-trap, completely unphased.

And Niragi? He was just standing there, watching, like some fucking idiot.

Because he knew you were going to fall.

Had to fall.

There was no fucking way someone could balance like that, no way you could just stand up there for this long without—

You reached up, adjusting the light slightly.

The stack wobbled.

Niragi felt his stomach fucking drop.

“Hey—”

You shifted. Like you expected it. Like you knew exactly how to keep yourself steady.

And you just—

Did.

Like it was fucking nothing. Like you weren’t about to break your skull open on the floor. Like you weren’t even remotely aware of how fucking insane this whole situation was.

Niragi just stood there.

Jaw clenched. Hands tense.

Heart beating a little too fast.

He hated this. Hated how easily you moved, how confident you were, how your focus was completely on that stupid fucking lamp instead of the fact that you were standing on a structure that should not be able to hold you. Hated that, for some fucking reason—

He didn’t want you to fall.

Not because he gave a shit about you breaking something. Not because he thought you couldn’t handle it.

But because the idea of seeing you hurt made something in his chest go tight.

That pissed him off.

“Get the fuck down.” he finally snapped, stepping closer, ready to just fucking drag you off if he had to.

You let out a dramatic sigh. “I just need to fix this—”

“I swear to god—”

“The glow just isn’t soft enough—”

“I will shoot the fucking lightbulb.”

You gasped like he had just threatened your firstborn child. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

You scowled, crossing your arms. “You’re just mad because you don’t understand aesthetics.”

“Aesthetics?” Niragi scoffed. “You’re out here risking your life over some shitty warm lighting.”

“It’s not warm enough.”

“Oh, boo-fucking-hoo.”

You gave him a dramatic look, then sighed, stepping down onto the back of a chair—

And jumped.

Niragi swore his heart stopped for a second.

He thought you were actually going to fucking fall.

But you didn’t.

You landed perfectly, somehow already moving, already stretching your arms over your head like this whole thing had just been a normal part of your morning routine.

Niragi was still standing there.

Trying to remember how the fuck to breathe.

Trying to ignore the way his palms had gone sweaty.

Trying to ignore the fact that his first instinct had been to catch you.

You turned to him, still looking mildly pissed off about the lightbulb. “We’re changing it.” you declared.

Niragi clicked his tongue. “You’re fucking weird.”

You rolled your eyes. “And you’re an asshole.”

He didn’t mind this. Didn’t mind your weird perfectionism. Didn’t mind your ridiculous need to make everything match your vision. Didn’t mind that you were standing on top of death-trap furniture at seven in the fucking morning just to complain about the shade of yellow in a fucking lamp.

Didn’t mind that, somehow, you made the apartment feel less like a place to rot and more like something… real.

He wouldn’t admit it.

Wouldn’t even think about it too hard.

But something about you? Something about this whole fucking moment?

Made him like mornings just a little more.

“You know lightbulbs?” you asked suddenly, your tone half-skeptical, half-curious.

Niragi’s eyebrows shot up. “What kind of dumbass question is that?”

You narrowed your eyes. “A normal one. Do you know lightbulbs?”

He just stared at you, completely silent.

You blinked.

He blinked back.

Nothing.

No response.

No answer.

Just his stupid, smug face watching you.

You sighed, already exasperated. “Niragi.”

Still nothing.

Your foot tapped against the floor. “Niragi.”

He finally tilted his head, lips twitching like he was barely holding back laughter. “Huh?”

You groaned. “Oh my god—”

“What do you mean, do I know lightbulbs?” he cut you off, voice all slow and lazy. “Like, personally? Am I best fucking friends with them?”

Your fingers twitched. “Do you know how they work?”

He dragged his teeth over his bottom lip, eyes flickering with something that really didn’t need to be there this early in the morning. “I know a few things that turn on.”

“Oh my fucking god.”

You spun on your heel, already walking away, already regretting everything. But you didn’t get far. Because in a second, he was behind you, looping an arm lazily around your shoulders, tugging you back just enough to throw you off balance, his breath warm against your ear. “Relax.”

You shoved at him, rolling your eyes, but he didn’t let go. “You’re an asshole.”

“And you—” his grip tightened for half a second before he finally let go, voice laced with laughter “—are so fucking easy.”

You scowled. “Oh, fuck off.”

He grinned. “Make me.”

You turned to face him fully, crossing your arms. “So? Do you know how lightbulbs work or not?”

His smirk lingered, but there was something knowing behind his gaze now, something too aware. He let the silence stretch just long enough to irritate you again, just long enough for you to open your mouth, ready to yell, before he finally—finally—answered.

“Yeah.” he said simply, shrugging one shoulder. “I do.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Really?”

He scoffed. “What, you think I’m fucking stupid?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I just think you’re an asshole.”

Niragi let out a low hum, but didn’t answer much more.

You let out a long sigh, running a hand through your hair, already feeling tired just dealing with him. But at least you had your answer. And if he knew what he was doing… well. That meant you didn’t have to.

“Alright, genius.” you said, looking him dead in the eye. “Go get me new ones.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me.” You gestured vaguely toward the lamp. “If you know how they work, you know what I need. So go get them.”

He blinked. “Why the fuck would I do that?”

“Because I don’t know what I’m doing.” You placed a hand on your hip. “And you do.”

Niragi stared at you like he couldn’t believe what you were saying, like this was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. “You were the one complaining about the color—”

“And you were the one being a smartass about it!” you cut him off. “So if you’re so damn smart, go get me new ones.”

He licked his teeth, tilting his head slightly, watching you. “You think I’m just gonna listen to you?”

You just lifted your chin, meeting his gaze with absolute certainty. “Yeah.”

Niragi’s grin twitched.

Because the worst part? You were fucking right. And he didn’t even know why. Didn’t know why he was going to do it. Didn’t know why he was already thinking about where the fuck he could find the right ones. Didn’t know why he cared.

But he did.

And that pissed him off.

So naturally, he turned to make you feel just as pissed off as he did.

“I better get something for this.” he muttered, already walking away.

“You get to keep living here.” you called after him. “For free.”

He turned back just enough to flash you a grin. “I meant something better.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fuck off, Niragi.”

“What type is it?” he asked, turning his head just enough to look at you again.

You stared. “What?”

He gave you a long, expectant look. “The lightbulb, princess. What kind is it?”

You blinked.

Opened your mouth.

Closed it again.

Because—what? What kind? Did lightbulbs have kinds? Wasn’t it just… a fucking lightbulb?

You felt your brain stutter over itself as you looked at him, eyes darting between his face and the lamp in front of you, suddenly very aware that you had no idea what the fuck you were talking about.

“…The… normal kind?” you tried, voice slow, uncertain.

Niragi just stared.

He sighed.

“Jesus fucking christ.” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “You don’t even know what you need?”

You narrowed your eyes. “I do—”

“No, you don’t.”

Your fingers twitched. “I know the vibe I want.”

Niragi let out a laugh. “The vibe?”

“Yes, the vibe, Niragi.” You gestured aggressively toward the lamp. “The warmth, the color, the—”

“Oh my fucking god.”

You scowled. “You asked, asshole!”

Niragi ran a hand through his hair, muttering something under his breath before rolling his shoulders back. “Alright, alright, shut up.”

You glared. “You shut up.”

“You—”

“You—”

“You—”

“Niragi!”

“Y/N!”

You huffed, crossing your arms tightly over your chest.

He huffed, mirroring you just to be an asshole.

A long, tense silence.

“…Just fucking take it out and bring it to me.” he muttered, jerking his chin toward the lamp.

Your lips parted slightly.

You looked at the lamp.

Then back at him.

Then back at the lamp.

Then back at him.

Niragi’s eyes narrowed.

“Take. It. Out.” he repeated, voice sharp, slow, like he was talking to a child.

You blinked again.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t even breathe.

Just stared harder.

“You do know how to do that, right?”

More silence.

You gave him nothing.

Not even a blink.

“…Are you fucking serious?”

You continued to stare.

“Oh my fucking god.” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face before stepping forward. “Move.”

You stepped back instantly, watching with way too much amusement as he grabbed a chair, adjusting it under the lamp.

“See?” he muttered, stepping up. “It’s not that fucking hard.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, you’re taller.”

Niragi scoffed, twisting the bulb out easily, not even looking at you. He hopped off the chair, taking a look at the bulb before tossing it into your hands without warning. You barely caught it, fumbling slightly as he smirked down at you, clearly entertained.

“There.” he muttered, shaking his head. “Now I can go find your dumbass ’vibe’.”

You clutched the bulb tighter, glaring up at him. “You’re the dumbass.”

He just grinned. But even with all his smugness, all his teasing, something about him felt different.

Because even though he called you impossible, even though he acted like this was the most annoying thing in the world, he was still doing it. Still helping. Still listening.

“What do you actually want?” he asked, voice slower now. Less teasing.

You blinked up at him.

He met your gaze, unbothered. “You know. The wattage, the lumens, the temperature—”

“…The what?” you said dumbly.

Niragi rolled his eyes. “The brightness. The warmth. The kind of light.”

Your lips parted slightly.

That was… a thing?

He knew all that?

You stared harder.

For some reason, you hadn’t expected this to be something he was good at. It was lightbulbs, for fuck’s sake. And yet, here he was, asking technical shit that you did not know the answer to. Which, admittedly, made you feel kind of stupid.

Your grip tightened around the bulb as you inhaled, turning your gaze back to the lamp. “…I just want it to look good.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It is an answer.”

“It’s a shit answer.”

You huffed, shifting your weight. “I just want it to be… softer. Warmer. Not so—so bright—”

“Warmer temp, lower lumens.” Niragi nodded once. “Got it.”

You just blinked again, slightly thrown off by how easy that was for him.

“…Yeah.” You nodded slowly. “That.”

He smirked. “I know.”

You wanted to kick him.

But you didn’t. You just crossed your arms tighter, shifting under his gaze as he grabbed his gun before heading toward the door. “I’ll be back.” he muttered, already turning away.

You rolled your eyes. “Bring me something nice.”

He scoffed. “Like what?”

You grinned. “A surprise.”

Niragi paused for a split second. Then he shook his head, muttering something under his breath before stepping out, the door clicking shut behind him.

You sighed, glancing down at the bulb in your hands before looking back up at the empty socket, staring.

It looked weird like that. Bare. Unfinished.

You didn’t even notice Chishiya come in.

“Something wrong?”

You turned your head just in time to see him step into the kitchen, looking just as calm and put-together as ever, hands in his hoodie pockets.

Your entire posture eased at the sight of him.

He always had that effect on you.

“Morning.” you greeted softly, immediately perking up.

He just gave you a slow nod, eyes drifting toward the chair under the lamp. “Do I want to know?”

You grinned slightly. “It’s fine. I was just fixing it.”

He arched an eyebrow.

You sighed. “I was, but I made Niragi do it.”

Chishiya hummed knowingly, stepping past you toward the counter.

You swayed slightly as you watched him. “I was about to make you breakfast.”

His eyes flicked toward you, just for a second, before looking forward again. “Mm.”

You took that as a yes. Smiling softly, you moved toward the counter, setting the bulb down before grabbing ingredients. “You know, I think Niragi actually knows his shit.” you muttered, rambling as you reached for a pan. “He asked me what kind I wanted, and I didn’t even know lightbulbs had kinds. But he did. He’s out getting one now. He’s still an ass, though. Kept messing with me before he left.”

Chishiya barely reacted. “Sounds right.”

You smiled. “He also took my request for a surprise very seriously.”

He gave you a sideways glance. “You think you’re getting something good?”

You just shrugged. “I think he likes me.”

Chishiya’s expression didn’t change. He just let that thought sit in the air as you started cooking, humming softly to yourself.

He never understood how you did that—how you could switch moods so easily. How you could go from chaos to sweetness without a single moment of hesitation. You were an angel in moments like these, making breakfast for someone who had done nothing but manipulate you, talking like this wasn’t a fucked up situation.

And yet, you were still you.

And right now, you were especially soft with him. You turned your head slightly, glancing at him as you flipped the food in the pan. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

He met your gaze, unbothered. “No.”

Your lips curled up slightly. “Promise?”

His expression didn’t change. “I wouldn’t be here if you had.”

You hummed, nodding slowly as you turned back to the stove. “Good.” you muttered, satisfied.

Chishiya just watched you, quiet, hands still tucked into his hoodie pockets. You were different from earlier. You talked more when you were like this, rambling, making conversation just to fill the air.

Not that he minded.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you much.” you continued, plating the food. “You were gone a lot yesterday.”

Chishiya exhaled through his nose. “Not much to see.”

You pouted slightly as you set the plate in front of him. “I like seeing you.”

His eyes flicked up to yours, his face unreadable as always, but something in his gaze shifted. Something quiet.

You didn’t even seem to notice.

Instead, you just smiled, reaching up to pet his head, fingers running through his soft hair. “You’re too cold sometimes, y’know that?”

Chishiya didn’t react. Didn’t pull away.

He never did.

You let your fingers linger for just a second longer before pulling back, grabbing yourself a glass of water as he sat down. “Did you eat at all yesterday?”

He glanced at his plate, then back at you. “Does it matter?”

You narrowed your eyes. “It does matter.”

He quirked a brow. “To who?”

“To me.”

Chishiya leaned back slightly. “And why’s that?”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Because you’re my friend?”

His lips twitched slightly. “You sure?”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up and eat.”

He gave you an unimpressed look before grabbing his fork.

You sat next to him, bringing your knees to your chest, watching as he took his first bite, chewing slowly. He was never one to rush, always taking his time, analyzing things even when he didn’t need to.

You liked watching him.

Something about the way he carried himself, the way he existed so easily in his own head—it fascinated you.

“What’s wrong with you?” you mused suddenly, tilting your head.

He arched a brow. “Be more specific.”

You grinned slightly. “You don’t get attached to people, do you?”

Chishiya’s chewing slowed.

Your gaze stayed steady, curious, soft.

He swallowed, setting his fork down. “No.”

Your lips pursed slightly. “You say that like it’s normal.”

His expression didn’t change. “It is for me.”

You exhaled through your nose, shifting slightly in your seat. “That’s kinda sad.”

Chishiya’s brows lifted a fraction. “Is it?”

You nodded. “Yeah. No one’s ever made you feel something? Like—actually cared about you?”

He just stared at you.

His silence was louder than words.

Your chest tightened slightly, your fingers gripping your glass a little tighter.

“…That’s not fair.” you muttered.

Chishiya tilted his head. “To who?”

“To you.” you said simply, eyes soft, searching his. “That’s just not fair.”

He didn’t look away. Didn’t even blink. He only exhaled softly, a slow, almost unnoticeable movement, before looking back at his plate.

“…You don’t have to care for me.” he said finally. But it was quiet. Softer than before.

You smiled.

“You say that.” you murmured, reaching out again, brushing your fingers through his hair once more. “But you’re eating my food, aren’t you?”

He didn’t deny it. Didn’t tell you to stop.

That was an answer all on its own.

Your fingers traced gently through Chishiya’s hair, soft and absentminded, but your words were anything but.

“I’m sorry.” you said, voice light, but full of something deeper. “I’m sorry you had to live like that.”

Chishiya’s expression didn’t shift. Not on the surface, at least. But there was something unreadable in his eyes, something quiet.

You pulled your hand back, leaning against the counter. “And before you start,” you continued, anticipating whatever cold dismissal he was about to give. “I don’t mean it in a pity way. So don’t think of it like that.”

He hummed, taking another bite of food, as if that response was enough.

You sighed, tilting your head as you looked at him. “You’re… different. But in a good way.” you said carefully. “You think differently. You see things differently. You’re analytical, you’re smart—”

He huffed a small breath. “Flattery?”

You shook your head. “No. Just the truth.”

He glanced at you, skeptical.

But you weren’t lying.

You never lied to him.

You leaned in slightly, your voice softer. “I don’t think you’re incapable of caring, Chishiya. I think… no one’s ever given you a reason to.”

He stilled for a moment.

Your words settled between you, sinking into him like a weight.

You knew how to talk to people. You always had. You did psychology for fuck’s sake—you knew how the brain worked, how defense mechanisms worked, how he worked. And yet, even knowing all that, even recognizing every wall he put up, every quiet manipulation, every careful detachment—you still cared.

And he knew that.

He wasn’t an idiot. He saw through people too easily for his own good, picked apart their intentions before they even realized them themselves. But with you, there was no motive. No selfish gain. You just meant it.

Chishiya had always known he was different. Even as a child, he had been too quiet, too perceptive, too detached from things that were supposed to matter. While other kids cried when they scraped their knees, he had just stared, fascinated by the blood pooling beneath their skin. While other kids looked for comfort from their parents, he had learned, very quickly, that his parents had nothing to give.

Emotions were irrelevant. Affection was useless. Weak.

So he learned to exist without it.

And for years, that had worked.

He went through school the same way he went through life—observing, learning, excelling, all while keeping himself at a safe distance. He understood people better than they understood themselves, knew what made them tick, knew how to use that.

But he never let them close.

Because why would he?

Affection was a concept he had never been taught, never been given, never needed. He functioned just fine without it.

Until you.

You, who looked at him like he was worth knowing, not just useful. You, who didn’t pull away when he said something cruel, who didn’t shy away from his presence. You, who ran your fingers through his hair and made him breakfast and looked him straight in the eyes and said sweet words.

Chishiya swallowed slowly, setting his fork down.

He didn’t meet your gaze this time.

You watched him carefully, your expression soft. “You’re not some unfeeling machine, y’know.”

He scoffed lightly. “Could’ve fooled me.”

You tilted your head, smiling slightly. “Yeah. You like to think that.”

He didn’t respond.

Didn’t need to.

Because you were right.

Chishiya had spent his whole life believing he was incapable of love, incapable of forming any real attachment, incapable of feeling anything the way other people did. And maybe, for a while, that had been true.

But now? Now, he wasn’t so sure.

Your voice was steady, sweet. “You are amazing, you know that?”

Chishiya barely looked at you, his eyes cast downward as he spun his fork between his fingers. If the words had come from anyone else, he would have dismissed them entirely. But they were coming from you. And that? That was a different kind of problem.

You sighed, shaking your head. “And I don’t just mean smart. I mean you. You’re… unique.”

He gave a small scoff, finally glancing at you. “That’s just another way of saying ‘weird.’”

You shrugged. “Maybe. But I like weird.”

His fingers stilled against the metal fork.

You pushed yourself off the counter, brushing your hands together. “But hey, I’m not gonna force myself on you. Just eat up, alright?”

And with that, you turned, heading toward your room without waiting for a response.

And just like that—he was alone again.

As a child, he was the type of kid who preferred books over people. He never understood why classmates flocked together in tight, desperate groups, why they were so emotionally dependent on each other, why they needed so much. It seemed weak to him. Inefficient.

So he kept to himself.

School was easy. People were easy. Everything was just one big equation, and he had already solved it. A simple balance of power and perception—figure out what people wanted, what they feared, what they needed, and use it. Manipulation wasn’t even a malicious act to him. It was just logic. Strategy. A means to an end.

And it worked.

Always.

He climbed through life easily, acing exams, cutting down competition, proving time and time again that he was better. He didn’t need approval, he didn’t need connection—he needed control.

Because control was safe.

But you—you were something else entirely.

You didn’t want anything from him. You didn’t try to break through his walls, didn’t push or pry or demand the way others did. You just were. You existed around him, with him, and for some fucking reason, he let you.

Chishiya tapped his fingers against the table, staring at the empty spot where you had been just moments before.

His chest felt… weird. Not tight, not painful, just—unfamiliar.

He exhaled sharply, tilting his head back against the chair.

Alone. Again.

That was how he preferred things.

…Right?

~

You stood below Niragi, arms crossed as you looked up at him perched on the chair, twisting the lightbulb into place.

“Don’t fall.”

He scoffed, sparing you a quick glance. “Tch. I’m not you.”

“I didn’t fall either!”

“You should’ve. That whole tower of death you built was ridiculous.”

“It was efficient.”

“It was fucking stupid.”

You rolled your eyes, watching as he gave the bulb one last turn before pulling his hand away. The soft glow of light bathed the room in a warmer hue, and you tilted your head slightly, inspecting it.

“…It’s kinda nice.” you admitted.

Niragi smirked, stepping down from the chair. “Told you.”

You huffed, glancing toward the counter. “Well, thank you for doing it.”

He chuckled, grabbing the chair and dragging it back to its spot. “Yeah, yeah. You should be grateful you’ve got me around.”

“Oh, so grateful.” you teased, leaning against the counter as he shot you a look.

For a moment, it was quiet between you two, but a good quiet. Comfortable. The glow from the lightbulb cast shadows along the walls, making the whole room feel warmer, softer.

Then Niragi snapped his fingers suddenly, as if remembering something.

“Oh, right.” he said, reaching into his pocket.

You raised a brow. “Huh?”

“The thing.”

You blinked. “What thing?”

“The thing you asked for.”

Your brain scrambled for a moment, trying to recall what the hell he was talking about. You had told him to bring you a surprise, but that was just to mess with him. You never expected him to actually—

He pulled something out of his pocket and tossed it your way. You barely caught it, fumbling with it before looking down at the object in your hands.

It was… a tiny, plastic keychain. Shaped like a cat.

You stared.

Niragi snorted. “The fuck is that face?”

You looked up at him, then back down at the keychain. It was cheap, scratched up, completely useless—and you loved it.

A slow smile spread across your face. “You actually brought me something?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, don’t make it weird.”

You held it up, inspecting it in the light. It was dumb. Utterly useless.

“I love it.”

Niragi’s lips twitched slightly. “You would.”

But beneath his teasing tone, there was something else. Something unfamiliar. He had grabbed the stupid thing on a whim, thinking it was funny, thinking you’d brush it off, thinking he’d have something to tease you about later—but you liked it. Really liked it.

And somehow, that made his chest feel weird. Not in a bad way. Just… weird.

You turned the tiny cat keychain over in your hands, running your fingers along the worn plastic, completely enamored with the stupid little thing.

A delighted laugh bubbled out of you as you held it up, inspecting it under the new warm light. The glow made the tiny scratches on it even more visible, but somehow, that just made you love it even more. It had history.

“Oh my god.” you gasped, grinning as you turned to Niragi. “Look at this little guy. Look at him.”

Niragi watched you, arms crossed, eyebrow quirked. “I see it.”

You clutched it to your chest dramatically. “No, but do you see it?”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “Jesus. It’s just a fucking keychain.”

“It’s not just a keychain.” you corrected, beaming as you held it up again. “It’s my keychain.”

Niragi snorted, shaking his head. “God, you’re ridiculous.”

You took a step closer, grinning up at him. “But, seriously, thank you.”

“For what?”

You gestured vaguely. “The light. The cat. Your general existence.”

Niragi rolled his eyes. “Don’t start.”

You laughed, rocking on your heels. “What? You want me to be mean to you instead?”

He smirked. “Wouldn’t hurt.”

You huffed, poking his arm playfully. “Fine. You’re insufferable.”

“And?”

You squinted at him. “Fucked in the head.”

“Keep going.”

“A literal nightmare of a human being.”

He grinned. “Now we’re talking.”

You shook your head, still smiling as you rolled the keychain between your fingers. The apartment felt good in that moment—warm, safe, a little less suffocating than usual.

And Niragi… he wasn’t soft, not really. But every once in a while, when he thought you weren’t paying attention, he did things like this.

He didn’t have to fix the light. Didn’t have to bring you anything. And yet, here you were, under a warm glow, holding a tiny plastic cat in your hands like it was the most precious thing in the world.

You glanced up at him again, watching as he pretended he wasn’t watching you.

“…I really do love it.” you said softly.

Niragi clicked his tongue, looking away. “Yeah, yeah.”

You could see it—the slightest tension in his jaw, the way he shifted his weight, the way his lips twitched just barely at the edges.

He liked that you liked it. And that? That made your chest feel a little weird, too.

Niragi side-eyed you, watching the way your lips curled up slightly, how you kept flipping it over like you expected to find something new. It was so stupidly cute, he almost wanted to snatch it back just to see you pout.

“Anyways, I have to go out tonight.” you said casually.

Niragi’s brow twitched. “What?”

“For restocking.” you clarified, slipping the keychain into your pocket. “We’re running low on some stuff, so I have to—”

“Are you kidding me?” Niragi groaned, tilting his head back in frustration. “Now you say this?”

You blinked at him. “…Yeah?”

His eye twitched. “You could’ve told me earlier, and I just would’ve gone with you then. Instead, I went out in the middle of the fucking day—for lightbulbs.”

You grinned. “And you did a great job.”

“Fuck off.”

You laughed as he ran a hand down his face.

“Come on, it’s not that bad.” you teased. “Look at it this way—at least you got to enjoy a nice, peaceful trip without my constant chattering.”

Niragi shot you a look. “Yeah, I hated it.”

You smirked. “Aww, you missed me?”

He clicked his tongue, glancing away. “Shut up.”

You giggled, opening one of the cabinets to take inventory of what you needed. “Well, if it makes you feel better, I was going to ask if you wanted to come with me tonight.”

He scoffed. “Like that was even a question.”

You glanced over your shoulder. “So that’s a yes?”

Niragi rolled his eyes. “Obviously. You think I’m just gonna let you go out there alone?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I have gone alone before, you know.”

He snorted. “Yeah? And how’d that work out for you?”

You hesitated. Okay, so maybe there had been a few close calls. Not anything you couldn’t handle, but still.

Niragi smirked, catching your hesitation. “Exactly.” he drawled. “You’re a fucking magnet for trouble.”

You pouted. “Am not.”

“Are too.” he shot back. “You could walk into an empty fucking alley, and I guarantee you’d still manage to find some kind of bullshit waiting for you.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “You make it sound like I try to get into trouble.”

Niragi leaned against the counter, grinning lazily. “Oh, you definitely do.”

“Whatever.” you muttered. “Just be ready to go after dark.”

He scoffed. “Like I wouldn’t be.”

You smiled as you turned back to the cabinets. Even with all his bitching, you knew he didn’t really mind. If anything, he liked having an excuse to go with you.

Not that he’d ever admit it.

~

The streets were eerily empty. Broken glass, torn banners, and abandoned cars lined the roads, all remnants of a world that didn’t exist anymore. The city felt like a ghost—hollow, still, waiting for something that was never going to come.

“You literally could’ve warned me.” you huffed, shaking your head as you nudged Niragi’s arm.

He grinned, swinging the flashlight lazily at the ground in front of him. “Oh, where’s the fun in that?”

“The fun,” you deadpanned. “would’ve been me not stepping into a fucking pothole.”

Niragi let out a sharp laugh. “You should’ve been watching where you were going.”

“You were leading!”

“And?”

You groaned dramatically. “God, you are insufferable.”

“Yeah, yeah.” he muttered, flashing the light in your face briefly before you smacked his arm.

“Hey!”

He snickered. “What? Just making sure you’re still awake.”

“You are so annoying.” you grumbled, but there was no real bite to it.

Chishiya, who had been walking slightly behind you both, was silent as usual, watching. Listening. Niragi was good at pulling your attention away from everything else, keeping you focused only on him. It was his favorite thing to do.

But you—you were always aware of him, of everything. Even while bickering with Niragi, you still turned back, slowing your steps just slightly to look at him.

“Hey, Chishiya, look at this.” you said suddenly, crouching down beside an overgrown crack in the pavement.

He raised an eyebrow as you reached out, carefully plucking a tiny flower growing stubbornly between the slabs of broken concrete.

“It’s so cute.” you said softly, twirling the delicate stem between your fingers.

Chishiya didn’t say anything, just studied you, the way your lips curled up slightly, the way your fingers were careful, gentle.

You held it out to him, grinning. “Here, for you.”

Chishiya blinked, then exhaled. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

You pouted dramatically, standing up. “Appreciate it, obviously.”

Niragi clicked his tongue. “Tch. Are you seriously giving him some shitty little weed?”

You turned back to him, still smiling. “It’s not a weed. It’s a flower.”

“It’s ugly.”

“You’re ugly.” you shot back.

Niragi smirked. “You wish.”

You ignored him, turning back to Chishiya, who just sighed and took the flower from your hand, twirling it between his fingers for a second before tucking it into his pocket.

Satisfied, you beamed before returning to Niragi’s side.

“Finally.” he grumbled. “I thought I lost you to the nerd back there.”

You snorted. “You’re so dramatic.”

He swung the flashlight toward your legs, tapping your thigh with it. “That’s mine, by the way.”

“What?”

He poked you again. “The flashlight. It’s mine.”

“I found it first.”

“Yeah? And who’s holding it?” He waved it in your face.

You huffed. “You stole it.”

“Finders keepers, baby.”

“That is not how that works!”

“It is now.”

You groaned, throwing your head back. “You are such a child.”

“You’re following me around like a lost puppy.” he teased, flashing the light at the ground ahead of you.

You kicked at the back of his leg lightly. “Shut up.”

Chishiya watched you both, hands in his pockets as he walked a few steps behind, letting Niragi soak in all of your attention—for now. But he noticed things. The way Niragi was always just slightly closer than necessary, how his hand hovered near yours even though he never reached for it, how he used the flashlight to poke you just to get any kind of reaction.

He wanted you all to himself.

Chishiya let a small smirk pull at his lips. How predictable.

You, completely oblivious to the silent battle happening behind your back, turned your attention forward, eyes scanning the abandoned stores up ahead.

Niragi sticked out his foot in the middle of one of your steps.

You didn’t even have time to react before your balance tilted forward, and with a sharp gasp, you stumbled. But before you could fall, you caught yourself, spinning around to face him with wide, betrayed eyes.

“You bitch!” you gasped, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

Niragi burst into laughter, throwing his head back as he clutched his stomach. “Oh my god—your face—!”

“You tripped me!”

“Yeah? And?”

Before he could react, you swung your leg out, aiming to knock his foot from under him the same way he did to you. But Niragi was quick—annoyingly quick. He sidestepped easily, grinning down at you like he knew you were too slow for him.

You huffed, planting your hands on your hips. “Coward.”

“Loser.”

Wit a growl of frustration, you tried again, stepping closer to kick at his ankle—but Niragi was already ready for it. He reached out this time, grabbing your wrist and pulling you forward just enough to throw you off balance instead. Your feet scrambled against the cracked pavement before you caught yourself again, but it was too late. Niragi was already dying of laughter.

You launched yourself at him, tackling him with all the force you could manage, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling as hard as you could.

He stumbled, caught off guard, his laughter cutting short as he struggled to keep his balance. “Hey—!”

But you didn’t let up, using all of your weight to keep pulling him off center—until finally, his foot hit an uneven part of the sidewalk, and he went down.

Hard.

The second his back hit the ground, you jumped back, throwing your arms in the air like you had just won a wrestling match. “HAH!”

Niragi groaned from the ground, blinking up at the dark sky. “What the fuck?”

“You deserved that!” you said proudly, grinning down at him. “That’s what you get!”

But before you could bask in your victory for too long, Niragi reached out and hooked his arm around your ankle, yanking hard.

And just like that, you were falling too.

You landed with a loud oof, your back hitting the pavement right next to him.

For a moment, everything was quiet.

And then you lost it. Laughter bubbled up in your chest, spilling out in bright, gasping giggles that you couldn’t stop. You turned your head to look at him, and Niragi was laughing too, chest shaking as he sucked in sharp breaths between each laugh.

It was stupid. The whole thing was stupid.

But god, it felt good.

You wiped at your eyes, still giggling, turning onto your side to look at him fully. Niragi did the same, facing you with a shit-eating grin that matched yours.

“You suck.” you wheezed.

“You suck.” he shot back, nudging you with his knee.

You stuck your tongue out at him.

Chishiya, watching all of this from a few steps behind, felt something sharp twist inside his chest.

Jealousy was an ugly thing.

Not just at the fact that Niragi was the one next to you, making you laugh so hard you were crying—but at the fact that you were happy.

If you and Niragi were capable of feeling happiness in this miserable fucking world, then why couldn’t he?

His eyes lingered on you, watching the way you reached out to push Niragi’s shoulder, the way your nose scrunched up when you smiled so hard it nearly hurt.

And he wondered—if he was the one by your side, making you laugh, making you smile like that…

Would he be happy too?

Would he even know what happiness felt like?

He shoved the thought away stepping closer. “Are you two done rolling around in the dirt, or should I come back later?”

You turned your head, still giggling as you propped yourself up on your elbows. “You’re just mad you weren’t invited.”

Chishiya let out a small huff, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Hardly.”

Niragi sat up, stretching his arms behind his head as he grinned. “Yeah? ‘Cause I think you are.”

Chishiya didn’t respond. He just looked at you, still lying on the pavement with flushed cheeks and a bright, glowing expression.

And yeah, maybe he was jealous.

He turned on his heel and started walking, making it clear he wasn’t waiting for either of you.

Niragi scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Fucking prick.” he muttered, standing up and dusting off his pants before reaching a hand down to you.

Still giggling, you took his hand without hesitation, letting him pull you up in one smooth motion. “Thanks.”

He just clicked his tongue, like he didn’t care, but his grip lingered a little longer than necessary before he let go.

The second you were on your feet, you took off—practically sprinting after Chishiya.

“Hey, wait up!” you called, running to catch up to his side. “Why are you walking so fast?”

Chishiya kept his eyes forward, jaw tight. “Didn’t realize we were stopping for playtime.”

You huffed, nudging his shoulder with yours. “Oh, please. You know you liked watching us fight to the death.”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t see how attempting to kill each other on the pavement is a good use of time.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” you teased, nudging him again.

He sighed through his nose. He couldn’t be mad at you like this, could he?

You, with your bright eyes and your breathless smile, so full of energy even in this dead city. You, who had just spent minutes rolling around on the pavement, laughing so hard you could barely breathe, and still had the nerve to come bouncing up to him as if he hadn’t spent the entire time stewing in jealousy.

No.

He could never be angry at you.

“Come on.” you whined, looping your arm through his without a second thought. “Don’t be grumpy. You get to walk with me, isn’t that a privilege?”

Chishiya arched a brow. “A privilege?”

“Yes.” you said seriously. “An honor, actually.”

He scoffed, but he didn’t pull away.

Behind you, Niragi made a disgusted noise. “Gross.” he muttered, dragging his feet as he followed. “You’re gross. Both of you.”

You just giggled, squeezing Chishiya’s arm before letting go.

And as much as he didn’t want to admit it—he kind of missed the warmth of you next to him the second you did.

Niragi had his flashlight in hand, lazily swinging it back and forth, not even bothering to aim it at the road ahead.

Before he could react, you lunged forward and flicked the flashlight beam directly into his face.

Niragi hissed, throwing an arm up to shield himself. “What the fuck?”

You snorted, holding back laughter as you kept the light steady on him. He flicked his own flashlight at you, shining it right into your eyes in retaliation.

“AHH!” you shrieked, flailing back dramatically. “Niragi! That’s cheating!”

“Cheating? You started it, dumbass.”

“You’re supposed to accept my attack like a noble warrior—”

“You blinded me, not stabbed me with a sword, you fucking idiot.” he snorted, but there was no real malice in his tone.

You giggled and swung the flashlight up again, flashing it right in his face. “Bam!”

“Fucking—” Niragi barely flinched this time before shining his right back at you.

For a few seconds, it was nothing but the two of you flicking lights at each other’s faces, stepping back and forth, cackling like children. Niragi was determined to win somehow, even though there were no real rules, and you were just thrilled at the fact that he was playing along.

Chishiya was still walking, hands in his pockets, not looking at you two.

He told himself it was annoying. Told himself it was a waste of time. You were in the middle of a dead city, risking your lives just by stepping outside, and instead of being serious, you were fucking around.

But his fingers twitched in his pockets.

Because he knew that wasn’t really why his chest felt tight.

It was you.

The way you laughed, bright and breathless, unbothered by everything. The way Niragi grinned at you, softer than usual. The way you looked at each other like you were actually happy, like you were living in a world that wasn’t already doomed.

And Chishiya hated that it wasn’t him making you smile like that.

He had never cared before.

He didn’t like it.

And yet, he found himself slowing down, just slightly, turning around to watch you two play with those damn flashlights, trying to tell himself that none of this mattered.

Trying to convince himself that he didn’t want what you had with Niragi.

That he didn’t want you.

~

The door swung open, and the three of you stepped inside. The apartment was dim, barely lit by the yellow glow of the lightbulb Niragi had installed earlier, casting long shadows across the walls.

Niragi wasted no time tossing his gun onto the couch, stretching his arms above his head with a lazy groan. “Fuck.”

You set your things down on the counter, barely able to catch your breath between fits of laughter. “No, but seriously, you should’ve seen your face—”

“My face? What about yours?” Niragi shot back, jabbing a finger at you as he leaned against the counter beside you. His grin was wide, teeth glinting under the dim light. “You were the one who tripped and ate shit right into that pile of rubble—”

You doubled over, gripping the edge of the counter to keep yourself upright. “Oh my god, Niragi, that was your fault! You pushed me!”

“Bullshit! You fell on your own.”

“I literally felt your foot hook around my ankle—”

“You’re making shit up.”

“You’re delusional—”

The two of you were practically in tears, shoulders shaking with laughter, voices bouncing off the walls of the apartment. It had been a long time since you felt this light—since you felt anything other than the crushing weight of survival. And maybe it was stupid, maybe it was reckless, but right now, you didn’t care.

Chishiya, however, was quiet.

He stood by the door, watching the two of you, his hands buried deep in his pockets. He had been silent the entire way home, but now, in the dim light of the apartment, that silence felt heavier.

BANG.

The sound cracked through the apartment like a whip, cutting through your laughter so sharply it felt like the air had been sucked from the room. Your breath hitched in your throat as your entire body went rigid, the sound ringing in your ears.

Your eyes snapped to Chishiya.

Smoke curled from the barrel of Niragi’s gun, his fingers still wrapped around the trigger.

And then—slowly, with a sickening kind of horror—your gaze drifted to Niragi.

His body swayed, the color draining from his face, and for a second, it was like time had stopped. The sharp scent of gunpowder burned your nose, but all you could focus on was the way his lips parted in a breathless, disbelieving sound.

And then you saw it.

The dark stain blooming across his side. The way his fingers twitched as he reached down, pressing against the wound like he could somehow stop it from being real. His breathing came sharp and uneven, his body finally catching up to the pain.

Your stomach lurched.

Your pulse pounded in your ears.

Chishiya shot Niragi.

❤︎︎ @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

[ksnzuy]

HI! I saw your request was open? I have been reading the boys of tommen series and i just read keeping 13 and i was wondering if you could wirte some tokyo rev characters (preferebly Shinichiro, Mikey, Izana and mitsuya) getting walked on while they're having their first time with reader? (Feel free to turn this into a one character thingy, i would love this with either of them😭😭😭)

۶ৎ Interruptions.

۶ৎ auth: OKAY SO. This probably isn’t as detailed as you may want, and that reason is because I’m not really all that interested in sexual relations and I don’t have much experience writing it :(

۶ৎ Summary: The night with him where you both decide that the right time would be now. But as things start—you’re interrupted.

۶ৎ: implied nsfw | scenario | gender neutral reader. !! All characters are aged up.

۶ৎ Characters Included: Shinichiro Sano, Manjiro “Mikey” Sano, Izana Kurokawa, Mitsuya Takashi

۶ৎ Shinichiro Sano

Shinichiro was the quiet and thoughtful older brother, the one who carried the weight of responsibility on his shoulders and made sure everything around him stayed intact. He had always been the one to hold things together for his younger siblings, to be their pillar of strength. But with you? He didn’t have to be strong. With you, he could let go, even if just for a moment.

The night had started innocently enough—just the two of you, spending time together in the familiar quiet of Shinichiro’s room. It wasn’t anything extraordinary at first. He was always so careful, so gentle with his words and actions. But the air between you both had shifted, and it was clear neither of you wanted to let the moment slip away.

Shinichiro looked at you, his dark eyes full of warmth, but there was a flicker of something else—something deeper, more intense—beneath his calm exterior. His hand found yours, his thumb brushing over your skin in slow, deliberate movements, like he was trying to memorize the feel of you. He leaned in slightly, his face inches from yours, his breath warm against your cheek as he whispered, “Are you sure about this?”

His voice was low, almost a murmur, and there was a slight tremor in it—one that he couldn’t hide. Shinichiro was always the one who was careful, the one who took his time to make sure everyone else was okay, and now, when it came to something as personal as this, it was clear that he was still trying to figure out how to navigate the situation.

You nodded, your fingers gently tracing his jawline. “I’m sure, Shinichiro.”

He sighed softly, the weight of your words seeming to ease the tension in his chest. His hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you toward him slowly, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was tender, almost hesitant at first. But the moment you kissed him back, it was as if the dam had broken. His restraint vanished, and he pulled you closer, his hands moving to guide your body against his, his warmth enveloping you entirely.

For a moment, there was nothing but the two of you—no worries, no responsibilities. Just the feeling of his lips against yours, his body pressed against yours, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat in sync with yours.

Shinichiro’s hands wandered, but he was still careful, as though he didn’t want to rush anything, but at the same time, there was a sense of urgency in the way he kissed you, as though he couldn’t get enough of you. His touch was gentle but firm, as if he was trying to pull you even closer, to feel more of you, but at the same time, he was hesitant, as though he feared pushing you too far.

Just as his lips moved to your neck, the door to his room suddenly creaked open.

“Shin, I—”

It was Manjiro, his voice loud and unbothered as he pushed the door open without a second thought. The moment he saw the two of you, his eyes widened in surprise, and he quickly slammed the door shut again, muttering an apology through the door.

Shinichiro froze, his body stiffening, his face turning a deep shade of red. He let out a deep breath, clearly trying to regain his composure. “…I told him to knock…”

You both sat there for a moment in stunned silence, the air now thick with awkwardness. Shinichiro’s usual calm demeanor was now laced with embarrassment. He turned back to you, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes full of a mixture of frustration and apology.

“I’m so sorry about that,” he said, his voice low, almost too soft. “I didn’t expect him to just barge in like that.”

You smiled softly at his flustered state, your hand gently cupping his cheek. “It’s okay, Shinichiro. It happens.”

He gave you a small, relieved smile, clearly grateful for your understanding. But even though he tried to mask it, you could tell he was still embarrassed by the interruption.

“You’re too kind,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss you gently, as if seeking comfort. “I promise it won’t happen again.”

As he kissed you, this time with a little more confidence, you couldn’t help but smile. Shinichiro’s love for you was something deep, something steady. And even though his vulnerability was a rare sight, when he let it show, it was the most genuine and real thing about him.

This time, when he pulled away, there was a quiet promise in his eyes. “I won’t let anything ruin this,” he said, his voice soft but full of determination.

And you knew, no matter what happened, Shinichiro would always try his best to make sure you felt safe and cared for, even if it meant taking things slow and being patient.

۶ৎ Manjiro “Mikey” Sano

Mikey was always full of energy, a ball of mischief and charm that made him stand out wherever he went. Yet, beneath that carefree and sometimes reckless demeanor was a side to him that only a few ever saw—a more vulnerable and possessive side, one that he kept hidden from most. With you, though, he didn’t need to hide it. He wanted to let go of that carefully crafted image and simply be.

The night was just like any other—quiet, calm, and comfortable. But there was a tension in the air that Mikey couldn’t ignore. The way his fingers brushed against yours as you sat together, how his eyes would linger just a little too long when he thought you weren’t looking. He had always been the one to make the first move, but tonight, it was different. Tonight, he was uncertain, unsure of how to navigate the space between you.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual as he leaned in closer. His breath was warm against your skin as his lips hovered just above your ear. “You okay?”

You turned to face him, a soft smile tugging at your lips. There was something about Mikey’s vulnerability, his need for reassurance, that made you want to protect him in return. “I’m fine,” you whispered back, reaching up to gently brush a strand of his messy hair out of his face.

Mikey’s eyes softened, his usual bravado faltering. He was always the strong one, the leader, but with you, it was like he didn’t have to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. His hand found yours again, and this time, he didn’t let go.

The moment was charged with an unspoken understanding, a mutual desire that had been building for weeks. Mikey’s lips found yours in a kiss that was surprisingly gentle at first, like he was savoring the moment. But as the kiss deepened, so did the intensity. He was desperate for this—desperate for the connection, the reassurance that you were his and no one else’s. His hands roamed, tracing the outline of your body with a quiet urgency, as if he wanted to memorize every inch of you.

But just as things were escalating, a loud bang echoed through the door.

“Mikey, what the hell are you doing in there?” It was Draken, his voice booming from outside the room.

Mikey froze, his body stiffening at the sound. His eyes flicked toward the door before he turned back to you, his face flushing with frustration and embarrassment.

“Dammit, Ken-chin,” Mikey muttered under his breath, sitting up and adjusting himself quickly. “I told him not to interrupt.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the situation, but Mikey was anything but amused. He got up and walked over to the door, yanking it open just enough to peek his head through.

“You really have no concept of privacy, do you?” Mikey’s voice was low, but there was an edge to it that made it clear he was pissed off.

Draken was standing in the hallway, arms crossed and a grin plastered on his face. “Sorry, didn’t realize you were busy,” he teased, his eyes flicking between Mikey and you.

“I swear to God…” Mikey grumbled, clearly not in the mood for Draken’s teasing. He turned back to you, the frustration still clear in his eyes, but there was also an underlying protectiveness. He wasn’t going to let anyone ruin this moment between you two, not even his best friend.

“Next time,” Mikey said as he closed the door, turning back to you with a sheepish smile, “I’ll make sure to lock it.”

He sat down next to you again, his hand immediately finding yours once more. His earlier hesitation was gone, replaced by a renewed sense of focus. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath heavy with desire.

“Sorry about that,” he whispered, his voice soft again. “Let’s just forget about him.”

You smiled, reaching up to kiss him lightly on the lips. “It’s fine. Just… maybe warn me next time so I can be ready for the interruption.”

Mikey chuckled, his usual playful smirk returning. “I’ll try my best,” he said, before his lips found yours again, this time with more determination, as though he was reclaiming the moment. And this time, no one was going to interrupt.

۶ৎ Izana Kurokawa

Izana Kurokawa had always been calculated, precise, and ruthless. His every move was deliberate, his demeanor sharp, and the way he carried himself demanded respect from all who crossed his path. But with you? He was something else entirely—a side of him that no one else ever saw.

The tension between you both had been building for days, and tonight, there was no avoiding it anymore. Izana had always been good at hiding his emotions, his cool exterior never faltering. Yet, in the quiet privacy of his room, it was different. There was a faint unease in his usually composed eyes, as if he didn’t entirely know what to do with the soft vulnerability that bloomed whenever he was around you.

He pulled you close, his long fingers brushing along the side of your face as if afraid you’d slip away from him if he wasn’t careful. His lips met yours with the same intensity and precision as everything else he did. But it wasn’t just lust that fueled his kiss—it was something deeper, something he didn’t understand but couldn’t ignore.

Izana’s hands roamed over your body, slow and deliberate, as though he wanted to memorize the feel of you beneath him. His touch was commanding, as though he was asserting control over the situation, but there was an underlying gentleness to it that felt almost out of place. He made sure you felt every inch of him, his body pressing against yours with a sense of urgency that was foreign to his usual detached nature.

“Is this what you want?” His voice was low, almost a growl, his breath hot against your skin as he trailed kisses down your neck. His control was slipping, but he didn’t want to lose himself entirely—not yet. Not with you.

You nodded, your hands threading through his soft hair, urging him closer. His jaw clenched, his eyes burning with something that was far beyond the calm, distant gaze he often wore. He kissed you again, deeper this time, his body moving over yours as he slowly guided you both to the edge.

The tension in the room was thick, the air electric with desire and the quiet understanding that neither of you would back down from this.

Just as his lips moved to your neck, the door to his room creaked open. “Izana, are you—?”

The voice was unmistakable. It was Kakucho.

Both you and Izana froze. The room was deathly silent for a split second before Izana’s eyes flicked toward the door. His expression was unreadable, cold, and calculating.

“Izana…” Kakucho began again, stepping into the room but freezing as soon as he noticed the situation. His eyes widened in shock, taking in the scene before him.

The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly.

Izana, ever the master of composure, didn’t flinch. He looked at Kakucho, eyes narrowing slightly. “Get out.”

Kakucho, still frozen in place, blinked a few times, confusion written all over his face. “What the hell are you—”

Izana’s voice cut through the air like a sharp knife. “I said, get. Out.” His tone was deadly calm, the same tone he used when he was about to destroy someone.

Kakucho hesitated, his usual bravado faltering for just a moment, before he quickly turned on his heel and backed out of the room. “Okay, okay, I’m going. But damn, Izana, you could’ve locked the damn door.”

Izana didn’t answer. He simply stood there, staring at the door long after Kakucho had left, his mind obviously racing. After a moment, his gaze flicked back down to you. The heat between you both hadn’t diminished, but there was an awkward tension now, the intrusion lingering like an unwelcome guest.

He ran a hand through his hair, his face still inscrutable. “…I’m sorry,” he muttered, though it was almost a whisper. “I didn’t expect that.”

His words were sincere, but his expression remained hard, his mask slipping just slightly as he tried to recover from the awkwardness of the situation.

You smiled softly, reaching out to gently pull him back to you. “It’s okay,” you whispered. “It happens.”

Izana let out a small breath, his lips curling into a small, almost imperceptible smirk. “You’re right. Next time, I’ll make sure the door stays locked.”

And with that, he leaned down to kiss you once more, the intensity of his earlier desire reigniting, this time with a silent promise that no one else would interrupt you. Not again.

۶ৎ Mitsuya Takashi

Mitsuya Takashi was always the calm and composed one, the one who carried the weight of responsibility without hesitation. His demeanor was often one of quiet strength, but when he let his guard down around you, it was a different story. He was gentle, caring, and surprisingly tender in a way that made your heart race without even trying.

That night, the atmosphere between you two had shifted, and the weight of unspoken desires hung in the air. Mitsuya had always been the type to carefully read the room, to understand when things were moving too fast or when they needed a little push. But tonight, his patience had worn thin. His movements were deliberate but not rushed, like he was savoring each moment with you.

You could feel the difference in the way he kissed you—slower, deeper. His hands were soft but firm, guiding you closer to him, making sure you felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingers. The warmth of his touch spread through your body, and the heat between you both grew with every passing second.

Mitsuya pulled back for a moment, his eyes locking with yours, searching for any sign of hesitation. “If you’re not ready…” he murmured, his voice soft but laced with concern. His usual confidence was there, but it was tempered by a tenderness that made your chest tighten.

You reached up, brushing your fingers along his cheek, reassuring him with a gentle smile. “I’m ready.”

That was all it took. Mitsuya’s expression softened, his lips curling into a small, almost shy smile, as though he was relieved to hear your words. He kissed you again, this time with a deep sense of urgency that came from months of restraint. His hands were everywhere, exploring, touching, his body pressing closer to yours with every movement.

He moved slowly, deliberately, wanting to make sure you were comfortable and taken care of, but you could feel the heat in his touch, the way his fingers gripped your skin as though he was afraid to let go. You could see the strain in his jaw, the way he fought to keep himself controlled, but every now and then, you’d catch a glimpse of his vulnerability—the way his eyes would soften as he looked at you, the way his breath hitched as you responded to him.

But just as things were reaching a fever pitch, the door to his room cracked open.

“Mitsuya, you’ve been in here a while, everything okay—?”

It was Sanzu’s voice, casual and carefree, but the moment he stepped in and saw the scene before him, his words caught in his throat.

Mitsuya froze, his body tense, but his expression remained as composed as ever, though you could see the flush creeping up his neck. He immediately moved to cover you with the blanket, his protective instincts kicking in. “Sanzu,” he said, his voice calm but with an underlying warning, “get out.”

Sanzu didn’t even blink. He stood there, eyes flicking from Mitsuya’s flustered face to yours, then back again. His lips curved into a smirk. “Ah, I see… my bad, didn’t realize you were busy.”

Mitsuya, usually the level-headed one, stood up from the bed, eyes narrowed slightly. “I said get out.” His voice was quiet, but the sharp edge to it made it clear that the situation was no longer funny.

Sanzu raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, I’m going. But don’t worry, Mitsuya, I won’t tell anyone. Not a word, I swear.”

As Sanzu backed out, still chuckling, Mitsuya let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. He turned back to you, his usual calm composure returning, but there was a hint of frustration in his expression.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice almost embarrassed. “I didn’t expect him to barge in like that.”

You smiled softly, sitting up and reaching for his hand. “It’s fine. Honestly, it’s kinda funny.”

Mitsuya let out a small laugh, his shoulders relaxing as he sat back down beside you. “Yeah, well, I’ll make sure to lock the door next time,” he said, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips.

You could tell he was still a little flustered by the interruption, but as he leaned in to kiss you again, you knew that no matter what happened, Mitsuya was someone who always made sure you felt safe, loved, and cared for—no matter how awkward the situation might get.

[kettleinusefornow]

Rough ride.. MDNI

Sae Itoshi X Reader fic

Contains breakup and miscommunication

Revenge sex

Iceskater!reader

eventual happy ending </3

teenage love

ALOT of angst

CHP2 CHP LIST

CHAPTER 1: Pleasant Surprise

YEAR 2008

You guys meet for the first time at the Itoshi residence. 

“You guys are Rin and Sae Itoshi!” Y/N was always an extreme extrovert unlike the brothers.

“Hey..” Sae greeted as Rin shyly hid behind him looking at Y/N with starry eyes. It’s obvious that Sae was slightly cautious since this was the point where he started getting recognised for his football skills.. So a lot of people only approached him with ulterior motives.

“Sooo wanna go play Mario kart..?“ Y/N pointed at the couch in front of the TV.

They somehow, despite their obvious differences,  became friends.. 

YEAR 2009 

Well they were closer now. That’s for sure. Y/N was part of their daily life, since they were in the same school.

“Move it grinch hair!!” 

“Get the hell away dufus!” 

Y/N and Rin were basically siblings. Sae was still.. Distant? No, more like he was just socially awkward. 

Y/N and Rin played with their dinosaurs while Sae was behind them eating a popsicle on the bench. 

“Oni-Chan! This monkey keeps trying to kill my Dino!” 

“Am not!”

Sae sighed. “Y/N you are the older one you should be nicer.. I think..”

YEAR 2012

 Sae started middle school so he was always away in school or on the field. This was the time when Rin and Sae started sharing a dream to become No.1 and 2 strikers. Y/N always thought it was a little presumptuous but she never discouraged them from their dream. 

Rin and Y/N  were walking to Sae’s game that was happening at the field. 

“So you know that my brother has a crush on you right?” Y/N almost spit out the lollipop that she had in her mouth.

“Okay how did you come up with that conclusion, broccoli boy..” 

“Well.. he always dresses up nice and tries extra hard on the field when he sees you.. Isn’t that enough?”

Well.. He isn’t wrong.. Y/N was young but not dumb. 

“Yeah but maybe you are overthinking it Rin, Sae is basically a blockhead no way he would have thought about me while playing football..”

“I guess..” 

Y/N was almost taken aback by how easily Rin agreed with her.

The game ended and Sae was walking home with them. Tailing behind the two of them. Sae had his eyes on her head as he turned and lazily glanced around. All of sudden, Rin asked a question that set Sae out of his daze.

“So when is Nee-San gonna date Oni-Chan?” He asked so casually that Y/N didn’t even process it completely before exploding with pink and red dusted on her cheeks. Rin turned his head back and looked at Sae for an answer. Y/N also looked at him with a flustered expression. Sae had a blank expression but finally answered after a few seconds. 

“Probably when we are older.” Y/N was now completely red. She was shocked and started running home. Neither of the brothers chased her.  

“Woah Oni-Chan, seems like you actually have a chance..”

YEAR 2013

The year that 13 year old Sae was gonna go to Spain for his football career.

Rin was at home with a headache. Y/N and Sae went to the park for some fresh air and to buy some snacks for Rin. 

“Y/N..” She turned to look at Sae who was beside her. Both of them were on the swing as she waited for him to continue his sentence.

“Promise me you won’t get mad?” Y/N got a little scared about what he was gonna say. 

Y/N and Sae started dating when she started junior high. He confessed to her in a traditional yet cheesy way by giving her a letter and going on a vacation with his family the next day. She always had a thing for him.. It’s Sae. It was your normal middle school sweetheart romance and they thought they would last forever. 

“Arggh why do you sound ominous!? Just spit it out..” Y/N said swinging on the same nostalgic swing he confessed to her on.

“I’m going to Spain for a few years.” There. He said it. A few seconds of silence followed before Y/N spoke out.

“You idiot! You scared me! You’ll come back after a few years anyways it’s not a big deal! Just don’t cheat on me and don’t ignore my letters..” Y/N said with a loud voice that got quieter the more she spoke.

Sae suddenly started laughing. Y/N was dumbfounded.. Was him going to Spain for a few years making him insane? “W-what’s so funny?!” 

“Nothing. You have to promise me you will still love me when I come back.” Sae said, with a big grin on his face and staring at her with a soft blush across his face. Y/N groaned and nodded as if it was the obvious.

The day finally arrived. The day of Sae’s departure. Y/N promised not to cry but shiny droplets fell down her face. Rin stood by her side as the both of them waved goodbye to Sae who was smiling at them warmly the whole time. 

YEARS BETWEEN 2013 AND 2018

Y/N sent him letters and of course he replied to them. Not much but he replied at least once every 5 letters. Soon you got your first smartphone. You guys texted often, not much but from time to time due to the difference of time zones. Sometimes your messages would be left on delivered for a whole week. His replies got dryer, being left on seen more.. Both Y/N and Rin brushed it off as him being busy. They had no other reason to think he was being rude or trying to distance himself. Realistically speaking it wasn’t a big deal.. Yet. 

After 4 years the messages which were being sent turned into once every 2 or 3 months. Y/N was getting busy with her school and friends. Rin still trained every single day for the pair's shared goal. Suddenly one cold evening, Y/N sent a message.. It turned.. Green?

“What the?? What’s going on?” Y/N texted Rin telling him what happened. He said he hasn’t texted him in awhile so he doesn’t know. 

“Okay let’s calm down.. Maybe it was a misclick? I don’t know.. ugh.. whatever. I’ll see him soon enough I’ll just.. tolerate it until then?” Y/N knew she shouldn’t think too much about it after seeing Rin’s reply.

YEAR 2018

Y/N heard the news he arrived.. But how did she hear it? Rin knocked on her house door. Eyes rimmed in red and hopelessness. He asked if he could stay there for the night. Y/N forced Rin to tell her what the hell had happened earlier that night..

She was.. shocked? No.. Disappointed? Not that. Maybe taken aback? She silently left the guest bedroom where Rin was in and went to the living room. Would he be there if she went knocking right now? Y/N got up and told her parents she was gonna go next door to greet them. The two families knew about Y/N and Sae’s relationship and thought it was just a cute reunion about to unfold. Sae’s parents weren’t home since they went to a small get together and would be back after midnight probably. 

Y/N nervously knocked on the door.. 

“Yes?-“ piercing mint teal eyes shot through her as it stared at her with no emotion.. She couldn’t think at all for a second. Sae was different. Yes much more handsome as he is 18 now but.. different emotionally too. The half lidded her eyes widened a little as it looked at her, in the dark with snow falling around her. Why did he look so.. pale and almost like a child abandoned..?

“Sae?” This small word was followed by silence. The only sounds that surrounded them were the leaves rustling and wind howling. Y/N swore it felt like time had just stopped. Sae looked at her with exasperated and drained eyes. 

The silence finally broke when Sae said something. “What do you want?” 

Oh.

Oh. 

©kettleinuse4now | please do not translate, repost, refer without permission | don’t steal and say it’s your own (ahole behavior)

[lemonlover1110]

𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 13] Payback

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Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Chapter Warnings: MDNI, Shiu x Reader, Smut, Handjob

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Toji takes you out to dinner, bringing Megumi along so it’s not seen as a date. He takes you to one of your favorite places to eat, and you’re sure he has something up his sleeve. What can Toji possibly do this time around? You try not to think too much as to what Toji can possibly do since you are eating something you like, and something your baby seems to enjoy.

You’re mostly talking with Megumi, completely forgetting about Toji’s existence while the two of you talk. Occasionally Toji chimes in with something stupid, it does earn a chuckle from you each and every time though. You eat in peace, and you almost feel like a family.

“We have to talk about something.” Toji ruins your peaceful moment after you order dessert. Your eyebrows perk up, and you wait for him to speak up. What does Toji need now? He’s not going to beg when his son is right there.

“What is it?” You ask him, not being patient enough to wait for him to spit it out. Megumi adverts his gaze, too embarrassed to look at his father.

“I’m seeing someone.” Toji reveals, and your eyes grow wide. The same man that was begging you to get back together not even a week ago is telling you that he’s seeing someone. It’s fair to say that you’re speechless with the announcement. You have no idea what one says with this type of announcement.

“That’s good…” You try to remain stoic with the news. He wants a reaction from you, and you’ll make sure not to give it to him. You have a lot of questions, but maybe it’s best if you keep them to yourself– Maybe ask Shiu or even Megumi. 

“Don’t you have any questions?” Toji asks, and to his disappointment, you shake your head. Megumi still isn’t looking at his dad, and Toji sighs defeatedly. “I have to use the bathroom, I’ll be back.”

“He isn’t seeing anyone.” Megumi quickly reveals when Toji gets up and leaves to use the bathroom. You furrow your brows, knowing that a teenager is involved in his father’s affairs. You can’t help but roll your eyes, knowing that Toji just can’t help but share everything with the world, “There’s a woman that visits him and does like him a lot but he’s not into her. They went on a date… But he’s just doing this to make you jealous.”

“I figured as much.” You chuckle. It does make you feel better, but it also upsets you. He goes through great lengths to make your life more difficult. You click your tongue before saying, “Your dad’s a dumbass.”

“Tell me about it.” Megumi responds, and you two change the topic into something more lighthearted. The conversation dies when Toji comes back from the bathroom, but luckily for you, dessert gets to the table.

You dive right into the sweet treat, noticing how neither of them grab their spoons and begin to eat. You knew they would agree to order dessert but proceed to not eat any of it. They’ll just say anything to please you.

“Do you want to come over and watch a movie?” Toji asks, catching you off guard. You can’t help but roll your eyes at the audacity. First, he says that he’s seeing someone, then he proceeds to invite you back to his place; you know better than anyone that Toji doesn’t mean anything platonic when he invites you back to his home.

“I can’t.” You proceed to put your hand on your bump. “Baby makes me sleepy and I’d rather not fall asleep on your couch.”

“I’ll carry you to our bed.” Toji says, and you bite your tongue. You shake your head disappointedly.

“Aren’t you seeing someone, Toji?” You point out, and he remains unphased. He’s seeing someone but he couldn’t make it clear that he doesn’t respect them enough. Right then and there, the best idea comes to your mind, and you blurt out, “Plus, Shiu wouldn’t be okay with it.”

“What does that idiot have to do with anything?” Toji quickly asks, wondering why you're bringing his best friend into this. 

“You’re not the only one seeing someone else.” You lie to him, and you know that it’ll cause some issues for Shiu but right now the look on Toji's face is priceless. He’s gone completely white, completely speechless.

“What do you mean?” Toji tries to see if his ears deceive him. But your next words reaffirm what he just heard,

“I’m seeing Shiu.” 

“You..” He begins but for some reason he can’t finish his sentence. Toji Fushiguro, who is never at a loss for words, can’t speak. “You’re seeing my best friend? Romantically?”

“Yes.” You nod in response, and the man has to take a sip of his water to calm himself down. He’s a little too young to have a heart attack, no? Why is his heart beating so fast?

“Megumi, keep an ambulance on standby. I’m going to be sick.” Toji says, putting his hand over his chest, and Megumi rolls his eyes at how dramatic his father is.

“You’re so dramatic.” Megumi mutters, crossing his arms. “I thought you were seeing someone too?”

“She’s seeing my best friend!” Toji yells, and you take a deep breath. All eyes are on you. He’s so dramatic over nothing.

“You kept sending him over, what else did you expect?” You ask him, adding fuel to the fire. You don’t want to sit by and watch Toji act as if he’s a victim. “I’m not really in the mood tonight, Toji. If you need anything, text me.” 

“Wait!” He yells, but his plea falls on deaf ears.

An hour after you get home, there’s a knock on your door. Your mind immediately goes to Toji, and you’re about to ignore it since you’re not really in the mood for talking. But after thinking it over, and as the knocking becomes more desperate, you realize that Toji wouldn’t be at your door yet.

“Shiu… He told you.” Are the first words to leave your mouth as you open the door. He doesn’t look as mad as you expected him to be… Matter of fact, he looks amused. “Sorry, he just said something and I wanted to piss him off.”

“I’m not mad. Well, maybe a bit.” He licks his lips. You’re trying to read his expression, trying to decipher what he’s feeling. Shiu is just like Toji, hard for you to read. But you luckily got to know Toji enough to be able to read him like the palm of your hand; Shiu, on the other hand, is still foreign to you.

“Why?” You ask him, moving aside to let him into the place. He takes the hint, stepping inside the apartment. He takes off his shoes and loosens the tie that’s around his neck before making himself comfortable on your couch.

“You got me in trouble with Toji and I didn’t get anything in return.” He says, and you can’t help but smirk. You walk over to him, sitting down beside him.

“What do you want in return then? I’m at your service.” You look mischievous, and he’s about to match your energy. You’re moving closer to him, and he doesn’t even try to move away.

“A nice candle lit dinner will do.” He answers, though it’s not what you have in mind. And you know that it isn’t what he has in mind either. You move closer until you’re practically breathing down his neck. He knows that whatever you’re going to do, you’ll do it with the sole purpose of getting back at Toji. 

“How about I give you something else?” You whisper into his ear and a chill runs down his spine. He bites down his lips before nodding in response. He doesn’t care that this will have consequences. He can’t just tell Toji that you were lying because it did happen.

Your lips lightly press against his, quickly pulling away before you ask him, “Do you want this? I can stop.”

“I want it.” He confirms, your lips going back on his but not pulling away. Your tongue swipes over his bottom lip, before his mouth parts. Your tongue enters his mouth, quickly pressing against his own tongue, while your hand caresses his thigh.

All of Shiu’s blood rushes to his dick, and he could moan even if you’re not doing anything yet. Since the moment he laid eyes on you, Shiu has wanted to do this. He’s been waiting an eternity to feel your lips on his, and he can’t control himself when he finally feels you.

His hand goes to the back of your head, pulling you closer as his tongue takes control. Your hand goes to unbuckle his belt, struggling since you only use one hand. He helps you out, in a rush to feel your hands on him.

“Are you sure?” You pull away from the kiss to ask him. He feels your hand play with the waistband of his briefs. He wants to scream yes into the air, over and over again. He’s never wanted something more. “I don’t want to ruin your friendship with Toji.”

“You already did.” He chuckles before his lips land on yours again. Your hand goes into his briefs, your thumb circling over the tip of his cock before your hand moves down to the base. You begin to lazily stroking his cock, and the man moans into the kiss even when you’ve yet to do much. 

You pull away from the kiss, taking your hand out and spitting on it before going back to pumping his cock. You peck his lips, before kissing his cheek and making your way to his ear. Your teeth begin to nibble on his earlobe as Shiu throws his head back and moans into the air.

He’s red, already sweating and out of breath with how good you’re making him feel. He shuts his eyes, moaning your name as your hand twists on his dick. It’s just a handjob, nothing that warrants the reaction that he gives you. But he couldn’t care less.

“Fuck– Like that.” He moans as your hand picks up speed. His cheek is pressing against your head, his hand gripping your shirt as he feels his release near. His mind is focused on you, and only you. Lately you’re all that he’s thinking about, and this isn’t going to help him.

Shiu will do just about anything for you.

He’s moaning your name over and over again until a groan leaves his lips, his cum ruining his shirt and coating your hand. He looks at you, eyes filled with lust. He’s in need of more. But just in a brief moment, guilt takes over.

“Do you want more?” You ask him, and he does. But he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t be doing this in the first place, he swore to himself he wouldn’t do this to Toji. Moreover, you’re simply doing this to get back at Toji, and it doesn’t feel right.

Shiu was willing to do this no matter what at first, but tonight he doesn’t want to be used. Maybe his feelings for you go deeper than mere lust.

“Maybe another time.” He answers, and you get off him. He stands up and makes his way to your bathroom to fix himself up. 

“Will this make up for the candle lit dinner or do you want something else?!” You shout, while you look for some tissues to clean yourself up as well. 

“We’re even!” He yells back, and you’re fighting back a smirk, biting on the inside of your cheek. You know that he’s going to want more even though he claims you’re even.

You just have to give it some time before he comes knocking at your door again, asking for more.

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

An Arranged Marriage, part 29

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 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28

1.6k words

Zen was back to being Zen, though the affection shared between the two of you was often tinged with frustration from him.

(I am feral over my own character, ask box is always open for talking about my writing or just monster fucking in general!)

--------

You sat next to Zen by the hearth and marveled at his hand while he wrote. Every movement so precise as he penned his letter to his family.

“Making sure I am not leaving anything out?” Zen teased you.

As far as you could tell his handwriting was very tidy, each character perfectly aligned and spaced out evenly. You could not read a word of it but were still enjoying watching him.

“I can’t believe how delicate you are with only three fingers” you said.

“Only three? I cannot understand how you can do anything without your extra fingers getting in the way.”

“No! Five is a good amount to have! Three isn’t enough.”

“I did not hear any complaints about my hand and fingers when I had one in you.”

You buried your face into the side of his arm and he leaned over a bit to nuzzle the top of your head.

“How long will it take for the letter to get there?” you asked.

“It will depend on who I can find to take it. There are some minotaur hunting groups that travel close to my village that I could send it with, but that would probably take weeks. And there are fisherman from my village who sail down this way sometimes to sell anything extra they catch, that is a more direct way to get the letter home, but they only dock here sporadically.”

“And when did you want to go visit?”

“Next month. There is quite an important festival then. Though we may actually get there before the letter then, which would not be ideal” he let out a deep sigh, “I will figure this out, somehow.”

Days flew by much the same way they had for the past week. Zen snuggled up against you whenever he could, lots of your free time spent lounging together while you each did your own thing. It was comfortable.

He made no attempt to initiate anything more than cuddling. His hands lingered on you in the bath, little sighs and whimpers as you felt him half hard against your back, though he often had a nervous and frustrated air about him. You would turn to press the side of your face to his chest and hug on to him, the affection always seeming to settle him down.

Often you caught him looking at you with almost a sad expression, sick of waiting and too worried to start again.

It was still early in the day. Zen was off at the hold, going over supply manifests and trying to figure out how to get what little supplies where scrounged out to the more remote settlements.

Slowly you started helping with the house work more and more. Back at home you never had to do anything, but here it was just you and Zen. You were sweeping up the entryway, Zen did his best to not track dirt in but being that trolls did not wear shoes meant that some always got in anyways.

Usually he would come in and wipe off his feet. Bringing in a bucket of fresh water from the well outside with him and cleaning off with a clean washcloth from the stash of them he kept by the door. Still, dirt or mucky footprints made it in the house and you had taken up the responsibility of dealing with that since Zen really did everything else.

There was a loud knock on the door as you were finishing wiping up a footprint that startled you. You were fairly certain Bira was out of town and you normally did not have other visitors.

Slowly you cracked open the door and were surprised to find Ba’tual looking fairly agitated.

“Oh, what are you-” was all you managed before he cut you off.

“There’s some human at the hold demanding to talk to you right now. He’s refusing to tell Zen or anyone else what it’s about or leave” he told you.

“Did he say his name?”

“Probably, but I wasn’t called in until Zen asked me to come get you, so I don’t know who he is.”

“Yeah, ok, yeah I’ll meet you guys at the hold then. Just let me actually get dressed” you said has you tried to piece it all together and figure out who could be demanding to speak to you.

“Zen specifically told me to escort you there, he doesn’t want you walking alone.”

Ba’tual waited outside while you got dressed and kept a close eye on you as the two of you made your way to the hold. It was a tense walk all the way there, Ba’tual did not seem to have any answers for you besides there was a human there making a scene and demanding to talk to you.

Zen looked visibly agitated when the two of you got to the hold. He was pacing the room with a annoyed expression on his face, nearly a snarl until he saw you. Immediately his expression softened and he rush over to you, placing a large hand on the back of your head as he crouched down to be eye level with you and nuzzled your forehead.

“Hey, what’s going on?” you asked as you nuzzled him back.

“Him” Zen nearly spat.

You peered around Zen to see a human man standing at the edge of the room dressed in your kingdom’s navy uniform. You recognized the man, a petty officer who served under your father and unfortunately someone you knew besides just that.

“What are you doing here?” you asked as the man approached.

“Call off your attack dogs” he sneered and motioned to both Zen and Ba’tual, “I’m here to take you home. And what are you wearing?”

You looked to Zen and Ba’tual who were both hovering close to you, “I can handle him, just give me a little space?”

Neither seemed to like this, but both took a few steps back.

You looked down at your outfit, it was pretty typical clothing for here. A knee length skirt tied around your hips and simple halter top style shirt, both in a soft forest green.

“Home? I am home. And this is perfectly normal for here” you defended.

“It is not suitable or appropriate for a lady of your status to be dressed like that, a poor representation of your family. Not that it matters, we’re leaving now.”

“No” you said firmly, “This is my home, my husband is here. This is where I belong.”

“Husband? That absolute beast? This charade has gone on long enough and served its purpose. Big things are in the works so it’s time to leave. Now.” he took a step towards you and went to grab your wrist.

It always amazed you how fast Zen could move, immediately he was between you and the other man.

“She already told you she was not going with you. You would do well to mind that” Zen’s voice uncharacteristically cold.

The man peered around Zen, “You’re making a massive mistake, this isn’t where you belong.”

“No I think it is” you said.

“Ba” called Zen, “Escort him back to his ship.”

Ba’tual gave him a nodded. Zen stopped him as he passed, placing a hand on his shoulder and telling him something in troll. Ba’tual motioned to several of the guards and they made their way out of the hold.

“You spoke as though you knew him” Zen said.

“Yeah, a while I told you my family promised me to the son of another family if he could make a name for himself in the navy. Well, that was him.”

“He does not seem like a good person. I do not like that an arranged marriage could have stuck you with someone like that.”

“I know, and you don’t have to like it. But it’s how it is where I’m from and it’s not wrong, it’s just different. Plus, we’re in an arranged marriage and it turned out good, didn’t it?”

“That’s different” he muttered.

“How so? Because both of us were told we were getting married and that was that.”

“I believe I am a better person than him.”

“And you are, that’s for sure. But I didn’t know that when I got here. I met a man who was grumpy, didn’t speak to me at all when getting married, left me home alone for hours, and then snapped at me for things I did know.”

“And I have apologized and done better” he interjected.

“You have, but it doesn’t change the fact you were a stranger to me and I didn’t get a good first impression of you, and everything still turned out well” you tugged him back down to your level to nuzzle him and give him a kiss on the cheek, “And what did you tell Ba’tual?”

“To make sure our visitor goes straight back to his ship, no detours, and to take a few guards to sweep the city for anyone who should not be here.”

“Do you think that was really necessary?”

“You did not see how he was talking and acting before you got here. I do not trust him. I am not taking any chances with keeping you safe. I failed in that once, I will not make the same mistakes again.”

--------

Part 30

Tag list

@blushycadaver @mochalyluv @hazyspacefairy @littlelovebug98 @tufflepuff23 @lets-imagineastory @emonatural191 @after-laughter-come-tears @plathsotherib @krayziee @zaqnette @graveblanketgreen @lovingbadguys @nogoatsnoglori @bunnibabylilly @selfindulgenthoe @dij-ology

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[just-dreaming-marvel]

Crimson Ties ~ 13

CRIMSON TIES MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,670ish

Summary: The Stark's get together to make sure Obadiah understands that he has crossed a line.

Warning(s): sexual talk and touching, non-consensual touching, bruises, abuse

Notes: Honestly, it’s just going to get worse before it gets better. Please send in ideas, reactions, etc!

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

The doors swung open with a bang as Tony rushed into the house. His eyes were scanning for any sight or sound of you. Steve hadn’t told Tony why they needed to hurry back, but Tony knew it had something to do with you. He wasn’t used to being concerned about someone like this. It was pushing him way out of his comfort zone. Finally, Tony caught sight of Yelena and Clint outside on the porch. Steve followed Tony out there.

“Where is she?” Tony immediately asked. 

“She’s reading under the tree over there,” Clint answered, his head motioning towards you.

Tony’s eyes snapped over to see you sitting on a blanket, leaning up against the large tree in the corner. You had a book in your hands but, even from where Tony was standing, he could see that you weren’t really focused on it.

“What happened?” Steve wondered.

“It’s my fault,” Yelena admitted. “I was too busy on the phone with Natasha. Obadiah walked in and headed straight for her studio.” Tony’s eyes never left you as his body tensed at Yelena’s explanation. “He… He threatened her and…”

“And what?”

“Slapped her.”

Tony’s head snapped in Yelena’s direction, eyes wild. “What?” The single word came out sharp and quiet.

“I watched the video footage,” Clint added. “He wants her to find a way to get Brock into the house. She tried to tell him no and he slapped her. Stane is a complete idiot for thinking that there were cameras in there.”

“How is Y/N doing?” Steve wondered.

“She hasn’t said a word,” Yelena sighed. “I’m worried that she’s scared to say anything after that.”

“Well, everyone’s on their way, including Howard and Maria. We’ll come up with a plan to make sure Obadiah isn’t allowed to come near her again.”

“When they arrive, have them go to my office,” Tony stated. “I also want a surveillance detail on every moment Stane and his employees make. I’ll join you all when I’m done.”

Tony stepped off the porch and headed for you. He made sure that his footsteps were loud enough to for you to hear him coming but not to scare you. The closer he got to you, the more he could see the bruise along your face. Tony hated that your own father did that to you. He may not like his own father, but Howard never laid a hand on him. Tony stopped at the edge of the blanket. He stuffed his hands in his pant pockets.

Noticing Tony, you shakily set your book in your lap and angled your head in a way to try to conceal the bruise from Tony’s eyes. You remained silent, trying to ignore the growing pressure inside of you. Tony didn’t have the words to say anything. There wasn’t anything that could fix what’s been done. With a sigh, he got onto the ground beside your blanket and laid down. You blinked at him, confused. Tony’s eyes focused on the clouds slowly moving across the sky.

“I don’t remember the last time I laid down and watched the clouds,” Tony said quietly. You glanced up at the sky through the tree branches. “It’s peaceful.” You pushed yourself off the tree and slid onto the ground, mirroring Tony’s position.

Back over on the porch, Steve, Yelena, and Clint were watching the scene unfold in front of him.

“We got here as fast as we could,” Maria said, hurrying to them with Howard, Rhodey, Peggy, Bucky, and Natasha. “Is she okay? Is she—“ Her worries died on her tongue as she saw you and Tony laying next to each other across the yard. 

“Tony’s trying to handle it right now,” explained Steve. “He would like us to start in his office.”

“Then let’s go,” Howard muttered, leading the way to Tony’s office.

You and Tony laid in silence, alone in the backyard. Tears filled your eyes and slipped down your cheeks. Tony turned his head to see your cheeks glistening with tears. He hated this for you and had no clue how he could make this better.

“I’m sorry,” Tony whispered. “How can I fix this? What can I do for you?”

“I don’t need anything,” you said softly, keeping your eyes on the sky.

“Y/N…”

“I’m fine. It’s okay.”

Tony scoffed, quickly sitting up to look down at you. “No, it’s not. I can’t— You can’t—“ He sighed, trying to collect his thoughts. “It’s not okay for you to be treated this way, by anyone… Including me and your father.”

“I…” You swallowed the growing emotions. “I don’t know any different…”

“That’s going to change. I’m going to change and I will make sure that your father and Rumlow will never go near you again.”

“You don’t know what you’re promising. They will do anything to get what they want. And I truly mean anything.”

“I don’t care. You deserve to be free of this.”

You shook your head. “They’ll get what they want in the end. They always do.”

“Y/N…” Your name rolled of his tongue like a prayer, causing your eyes to snap to his. “I will protect you.”

In this eyes, you could see that he was being sincere. But you knew what your father and his resources were capable of. Tony hated every bit of this. He glanced back at the house and then back at you. The others were waiting for him, but he couldn’t leave you out here alone.

“We need to go inside,” Tony said quietly. 

“Okay,” you whispered.

You stood up and stepped off the blanket. Tony quickly folded it. You headed towards the house with Tony following behind. When you got inside, you paused, looking around. You didn’t know if you were allowed to go off or if you were needed in the meeting that Tony was holding.

“The house is on complete lock down,” Tony told you. “My father brought his extra security and they’re surrounding the house. You can join us in my office or you can do your own thing.”

“I’m going to be in my studio,” you mumbled.

“Okay. That’s fine. I’ll be checking in on you. Let me know if you need anything.”

You nodded before heading off to your studio. Tony watched as you went to shut the do and then decided against it. You opened it as wide as you could and got to work. You didn’t even turn on any music. Tony could tell that you didn’t want to get caught off guard again. He went into his office, where everyone was. Waiting around the large conference table.

“Yelena explained the situation to everyone and I showed the video footage,” Steve informed Tony as he entered.

“Good,” Tony murmured, heading to his seat at the far end of the table. “We cannot allow Obadiah to get away with this.”

“I agree,” Howard said, taking those at the table by surprise. “We need to retaliate.”

“We can’t just go in guns a blazing,” Rhodey warned. “We have to be smart about this or it’s going to back fire. But the teams are ready for whatever we ask them to do.”

“I’ll meet with Obadiah tomorrow, with Tony. We let him know that the partnership is over but that Y/N is still a Stark.”

“He won’t like that,” Clint said, leaning back in his chair.

“We do it on our turf,” Bucky confirmed. “We need the upper hand.”

“He will retaliate,” Natasha added. “There will be a war in the city before we know it.”

“I don’t care,” Tony spoke up. He looked over at Maria. “I understand now where you were coming from when you told me to take care of her. Y/N’s been abused all her life and I’ve only made things worse. I’m sorry.”

Maria have her son a small smile. “Thank you, Anthony,” she said. “How is Y/N?” 

“Not okay. But I promised her that they wouldn’t touch her again. And I do not intend on breaking that promise.”

“We will all help you,” Yelena offered.

“I expect it. Everyone needs to be at the top of their game. This is a fight we have no choice but to win.”

~~~

You stayed in your studio for the remainder of the day. You tried to keep your mind off of everything that had happened. The door of your studio was kept open until you left to go to bed that night. You entered your room with a sigh, leaning back against the door for a moment before heading for into your room. Before you headed into the bathroom, a folded piece of paper on your pillow caught your attention.

With unsteady legs, you made your way to your bed and shakily picked up the paper. Your heart stopped as you read the messy handwriting.

I’m sorry I missed you, sweetheart. Hope that you had a nice chat with your father. Can’t wait to see you soon. - B

You collapsed to your knees before lurching forward with a sob. You were never going to escape this.

~~~

Tony didn’t get much sleep that night. He couldn’t stop his mind from racing. He ended up calling Pepper over just after midnight.  After having a rough round of sex, Tony finally fell asleep, leaving Pepper wide awake. She wrapped herself up in a robe and snuck out of Tony’s room. The hallways were barely lit with soft lights near the baseboards, allowing Pepper to find her way to Tony’s office. She slipped in and headed straight for his large desk on the other side of the room. Turning on the lap, Pepper quickly got to work. Brock asked for the house and security plans. And Tony was an idiot, who told her his password months ago. With ease, Pepper was able to email everything and more to Brock and download it onto a USB.

Pepper made sure that everything looked untouched and slipped back into Tony’s bed without anyone noticing. She smirked to herself at how ease it was. She knew that the security detail was all on your side on Tony’s. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand and she picked it up.

Brock: Got your email. I’ll be sure to keep my girl distracted more so that Tony’s all yours.

Pepper: And I’ll be a distraction anytime for you as well.

Brock: Perfect. 

~~~

“She hasn’t been out all day?” Tony questioned after Yelena had told him that no one had seen you today.

“I know she’s in there because she’s said she’s good and just wants to be left alone,” Yelena continued. 

Tony huffed, glancing at your closed bedroom door. “Keep me updated. I’m going to my parents to confront Obadiah.”

“Will do,” Yelena nodded.

Tony met Happy and Steve out at the car then headed to his parents. Obadiah was already settled in with a drink when Tony arrived at Howard’s office. Howard and Tony shared a look before Tony walked around the desk and stood behind his father.

“Well, I take it this isn’t a friendly meeting,” Obadiah said, taking a sip of his drink.

Howard turned his computer screen to face Obadiah. On the screen, the video footage of you and Obadiah in your studio was pulled up. It was paused just before the slap. Obadiah sat up straighter.

“What is this?” He asked.

“I think you know exactly what it is,” Tony retorted. “Play the footage.”

Howard pressed play and scene began on the screen. The sound was off, allowing the silence to increase the tension in the room. While Obadiah’s focus was on the screen, Howard and Tony focused on him. He did not move as he watched himself slap you and you fell back onto the floor. Howard paused the footage.

“You attacked my wife in her studio,” Tony stated, eerily calm.

“This is all a misunderstanding,” Obadiah said. “She tripped.”

“You slapped her!”

Obadiah scoffed. “I asked her to allow Brock onto the security staff. He is my way of ensuring that she’s safe. She told me no and she was taught better than to do that.”

“Brock is not welcome near her,” Howard responded. “He’s also not welcomed in any of our homes, hence why he was stopped at the door today. He’s done too much damage.”

“My daughter has forgotten her place.”

“No,” Tony’s voice was clipped as he spoke. “You’ve forgotten yours.”

Obadiah stood, hands slamming on the desk. “I built this alliance. I gave my daughter to your family to keep the peace and to build a new era. Her last name may now be Stark but she will always be a Stane. She is my responsibility, whether she’s married into your family or not.”

“You gave her up like you were selling a piece of furniture. Do not pretend like you understand being responsible for her.”

Obadiah laughed. “Oh, like you would know? How’s Pepper by the way? She still meeting your every need?”

Tony stepped forward but Howard stopped him with a raised hand. “Enough,” Howard demanded. “You slapped my daughter-in-law, in her own home. And you did it because she refused to make sure that Brock had a way into the house. You did not ask her anything. You demanded it.”

“She knows better to refuse her own father. I outrank her.”

“You don’t outrank me. You don’t outrank my son. And you sure as hell don’t outrank my daughter-in-law in her own house.”

Obadiah looked between the two men, beginning to realize that he may have miscalculated things.

“You and Brock have been abusing Y/N for years,” Tony accused. “Me and others have seen the bruises. We’ve seen the way she flinches and tenses whenever she’s around the two of you. It ends now.”

“You both are soft,” retorted Obadiah.

“No. We’re civilized and you’re obsolete,” Howard replied. “Our agreement is over. Effective immediately.”

“Then Y/N returns to me.”

“Not a chance in hell,” Tony stated.

“There will be no more meetings,” continued Howard. “No more dinners. Anyone associated with the Stane name are not to contact Y/N, every again. And if you or Brock even breathe in the same room as her again, neither of you will see the light of day.”

“You can’t threaten me.”

“I just did.”

Tony leaned over the desk to get close to Obadiah’s face. “Y/N is not your property,” he started. “She no longer a Stane. She’s my wife. And she has the full protection of the Starks. Forever.”

Howard stood up and nodded to Bucky. Bucky and Steve stepped up, one on each side of Obadiah. “They will guide you out of the house,” he said. “I wish things didn’t have to end this way.”

Obadiah stood up, glaring at the Stark men across from him. “This isn’t over,” he threatened. “You just unleashed something you will regret.”

“Goodbye Obadiah."

Steve and Bucky each grabbed one of Obadiah’s arms. He tore free of them.

“Let go of me!” He exclaimed. “This isn’t over!” He turned around and marched out of the room with Bucky and Steve following to ensure he left. Obadiah stormed off to the car, where Brock was waiting. “Get us home, now!”

Brock began driving off. “What happened, Boss?” He wondered.

“They broke the agreement.”

“What?”

“No meetings. No money. No contact with Y/N.”

“They can’t do that. She’s your daughter.”

“They’re turning her against me. And turning you into a target while they’re at it.”

“What are we going to do about it?”

“We are going to remind them what fear tastes like. We’re going to go after the other Stark alliances. The Stark secrets. Everything. But first, we need to send a message.”

“To Y/N?”

“I want her reminded that she’s a Stane, not a Stark. That at the end of all this, she will be right back with us. I don’t want anyone killed, not yet. But scare her.”

“It will be my genuine pleasure.”

next chapter >

[fluentmoviequoter]

New Life

Requested Here!

Pairing: TO!Jim Street x fem!rookie!reader

Summary: After you get custody of your 11-month-old niece, you see your TO's softer side. Your niece loves him, but he takes the time to make sure you are adjusting to your new life.

Warnings: brief angst, familial angst (sick sibling - not specified if it's a brother or sister), fluff, comfort, yearning and mutual pining

Word Count: 4.6k+ words

A/N: TO Street is back!!!!! I had to use this gif because Gasoline Drum is one of my favourite Street episodes🤭

Masterlist Directory | Jim Street Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

Street is the best training officer in the history of police training, you think. You came into the station on your first day with just enough confidence to get by and your heart in your throat, worried that you’d get one of the TOs your friends in the academy told you about: the pushy one, or the burned-out cop who’s more interested in proving you wrong than helping you. Street is the complete opposite. He’s clearly passionate about police work, and even if you remain confused about why he didn’t take the opportunity to return to SWAT, you’re grateful that he’s your TO.

Someone yells your name as you exit the roll call room, prepared to gather your war bags from the equipment room. You freeze as your mind begins racing, evaluating everything you could have done wrong, even glancing down to check if your socks match. Turning slowly on your heel, you see Street watching you, his arms crossed over his chest and his expression unreadable.

“Yes, sir?” you reply quietly.

“Do you know what day it is, boot?” he barks.

Pressing your lips together, you try to remember, but nothing is remarkable about today. So, you tell the truth, and answer, “No, sir.”

“Are you nervous?” he inquires, taking a step toward you.

“Yes, sir.”

Street stops then. “Good,” he murmurs, dropping his arms. “Ready to go?”

You blink, confused, and feel like you’re buzzing with nervousness. “Sir?”

Street taps your shoulder, directing you toward the equipment room, so you fall in step beside him, watching his profile as you walk.

“My old SWAT commander started a bet that I wouldn’t try to intimidate you on purpose,” he explains softly. “Sorry.”

“Oh,” you reply, still blinking owlishly as you stare at him. “Okay.”

Street leans over the clipboard to sign out your bags, not looking at you as he asks, “You alright?”

“My heart’s racing and I was about thirty seconds from a panic attack,” you mumble. “But, yeah, I’m alright.”

Street straightens, his muscles flexing under his short sleeves, and you have to remind yourself to look at his face and not his triceps.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “But I can’t let them be right about anything, ever. And I won $300, so I’ll order you a pizza or something to make up for it.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you argue. You reach for your war bag, but Street knocks your hand out of the way and pulls it onto his shoulder. “Officer Street?”

“Don’t get used to it,” he grunts, lifting his bag in his other hand. “I feel bad.”

“You also called me boot. What happened to I’m not like other TOs, I’ll treat you like a person?” you ask, lowering your voice to imitate him.

Street smiles, shaking his head. “I told you. $300.”

“We don’t get paid enough,” you sigh.

“Adam-13,” dispatch radios. “Report of a drunk and disorderly male near Harvard Park.”

Street sighs as he drops your bags in the trunk and closes the door. “Adam-13 responding,” he replies. “I’ll drive.”

“Which is different than any other day?” you murmur as you enter the passenger side of the shop.

“Hey!” Street calls as you step out of the car. “LAPD. We need to talk to you for a second.”

The man waves his hand over his head, then staggers off the sidewalk. You jog toward him, hoping he’ll stop when he sees your uniform is real.

“Hi, Jessie,” he mumbles as he brushes past you.

Furrowing your brows, you turn as Street approaches your side.

“It’s barely 8 a.m.,” he muses. “Little early for this, isn’t it?”

You want to tell Street that you think the man is confused rather than drunk, but don’t get a chance to before he turns into a park, where children are playing. Street leads the way as you run after the man, overtaking him easily as he drags his feet along the sidewalk. Standing in front of him, you block his path with your hands up and your badge visible.

“Sir, I’m Officer Jim Street,” Street says. “Have you had anything to drink today?”

“Water went shoo,” the man slurs, tossing his arms to the right and throwing himself off balance.

You step toward him, your arm extended to assist him, but Street grabs your wrist and shakes your head.

“He might get violent,” he reminds you. “Keep your distance and try to get his voluntary cooperation.”

“Sir, what’s your name?” you inquire.

“Kenneth,” he answers, squinting as he drops his head.

“Kenneth, where are you walking from?”

He squeezes his eyes closed, tilting his head to the side as he thinks. “Dunno,” he replies, shrugging.

“Street, I think he needs medical attention,” you whisper.

“Sir, do you have your ID?” Street asks. “Can I see it?”

Kenneth pats his pockets, then tsks. “Lef’it in car.”

“What kind of car do you drive?” you ask, pulling away from Street to approach Kenneth. Closer, you can see that his clothes are disheveled, and a few scrapes and bruises line his hands and jaw.

“Blue Mustang,” he answers, raising his hands to his head. “What do you want?” he demands, stepping toward you quickly.

You move back, laying your hand on your Taser before he stops and sways.

“Blue Mustang,” you repeat softly. “Street, he was in the accident off Western this morning; unoccupied Blue Mustang was leaking gas.”

Street nods, raising his hand to his radio to call for an ambulance. Kenneth tries to walk away, so you step in front of him and ask him more about his car. His short-term memory seems worse for wear, but other than the clear head trauma, he seems relatively unscathed.

You glance up when Street moves behind Kenneth, and he flashes you two fingers, so you know how long you have to distract Kenneth until the ambulance arrives.

“Weird guy, him,” Kenneth mumbles, moving his head toward Street.

“He’s just jealous of your car,” you tell him, watching Street roll his eyes. “He wants one but can’t afford it.”

A few minutes later, after you helped the paramedics coax Kenneth into the ambulance because he’d listen to you but wanted to fight them, you return to the shop with a sigh.

“What are you going to write me up for first?” you inquire. “Forgetting protocol or the Mustang joke?”

“Neither,” Street answers, looking over his shoulder to pull away from the curb. “You saw something that I didn’t. Good job following your instincts.”

“Thank you,” you reply, looking out the window so Street can’t see the smile on your face. You’re a police officer, your TO’s feedback isn’t supposed to make you giddy or cause images of hearing his praise in a much different context. Yet, Jim Street. The one guy in the LAPD you can’t seem to get enough of.

“Any sage words of wisdom?” you ask Deacon while waiting for Street.

He doesn’t answer before Hondo interrupts to say, “Don’t date playboy.”

“Playboy?” you repeat, incredulous. “Street?”

“Oh, yeah,” Hondo breathes dramatically, while Deacon rolls his eyes.

“He’s… flirty,” Deacon says. “Doesn’t usually lead anywhere. Not for long.”

You nod, pressing your lips together. Street might have made a borderline flirtatious comment once or twice, but you’re his rookie. There was never going to be anything between you, no matter what. No matter how much you think you’d like it.

“He’s not with me,” you say. “Guess his TO training advised against it.”

Hondo scoffs. “That’s never stopped Streeter before.”

Maybe it has, you think. Because the alternative is that he doesn’t like me, and I don’t know which would hurt worse.

“Because I’m impressed by how you handled Kenneth this morning,” Street begins.

“I don’t like how that sounds,” you complain, eyeing him suspiciously.

“I said I was impressed. I’m going to let you pick where we get lunch today. You have three blocks in any direction to choose from.”

You know precisely where you are, which proves to be helpful for more than patrolling today. There’s a food truck less than two blocks south of you, and Street nods as he enters a turn lane.

“Are you being nice to me because of what Hondo and Deacon said?” you blurt.

“What’d they say?” Street asks, sparing a glance at you as he drives.

“Nothing,” you murmur, wiping your uniform pants to look nonchalant.

“No,” Street replies. “What’d they say?”

“Just that I shouldn’t be surprised if you do something else because of a bet,” you lie.

Street hums, and you feel his eyes on you. He’s a good cop, a better TO, so he most likely knows you’re lying. Yet, he decides not to say anything, opting to drive silently to your chosen lunch destination.

After you order, you carry your tray to a nearby table and sit, checking your surroundings before you unwrap your straw and put it in the first cold drink you’ve had since breakfast. Street is still watching you closely, but it’s not as obvious or concerning as before. He’ll catch you in the lie eventually, you’ll laugh it off and move on. That’s how it works with Street. You thought the easy approach to serious topics was to make you comfortable as a rookie, but you see now that it’s just who Street is.

Pulling your phone from your pocket, you expect to see it void of meaningful notifications, because your friends and family respect your career choice and know that you can’t get back to them while you’re working. That, and because they all have day jobs too. Today, however, you have three missed calls. Two from callers you recognize, and one from a local number you don’t have saved. You click that voicemail first, raising your phone to your ear as Street steals something off your tray and passes something from his in return.

“Good morning, this is Pamela Watson from the Los Angeles County Department of Children and Family Services,” the woman says. You set your drink down, feeling your heart pound in your throat as you listen. “I’m calling in regards to your niece. If you’d like to call me back today, please return this call and use extension 515, or you can email me through the office. Thank you.”

“What’s wrong?” Street asks, his gaze entirely different after he sees the concern on your face.

You can’t speak past the lump in your throat, so you shake your head and open the next voicemail, this one from your sibling.

“CFS probably already called,” they begin. “I’m fine, just dealing with some health stuff, and in turn, some money stuff. I’d never ask you to do this, and you don’t have to take responsibility, okay? If you want to, I’ll help you however I can and I will explain everything tonight. I- I’m okay, and I love you.”

You press your phone harder against your ear when the voicemail ends, clenching your teeth together as you try to make sense of everything you’ve heard. There’s another message, but you don’t want to listen to it right now. You doubt you could understand it even if you did.

“Hey,” Street calls, his voice commanding your attention this time. When you look up, his eyes bounce between yours, silently evaluating you and everything your body language tells him. “What’s wrong?” he repeats.

“I don’t know,” you admit, dropping your phone to your lap. “My- my family is… going through something, I guess. They didn’t tell me what.”

“How long ago did they call?” he inquires.

“Two hours.”

“Why didn’t you answer then?” he exclaims. “Family comes first.”

“My phone was silenced,” you answer weakly, feeling pressure in your eyes as you stare at the table. “They- they never call during the day.”

“Come on,” Street says, picking up your trays and empty cups as he stands. “We’ll tell the watch commander what happened, and you can go check on them.”

“But I can’t get time off,” you remind him. “I’m a rookie.”

“Time off is different than a family emergency. I’ll clear it. Come on.”

You follow Street to the shop, mumble your gratitude when he opens the door for you, and watch Los Angeles pass in a blur. Within an hour, you’re in the back of an Uber, showered and changed for a meeting with Pamela Watson to find out why your niece needs a new guardian.

“I know,” you say when your niece grins. “But I’m going to kill your parents for worrying me.”

She smiles wider as she giggles, reaching up toward your collar as you carry her around your living room. The calls made the situation sound much worse than they are. It’s a temporary solution to a short-term problem, Pamela had explained. Someone would take care of your niece for six months while your sibling received treatment for a recently discovered health condition. Doctors caught it early, and the treatment is 99% successful. But they’ll need time to travel, a sterile living environment, and may experience side effects that will make it harder to care for a child. With a monthly check from CFS and as many visits from your sibling as their doctor clears, you're prepared to take care of the cutest and most lovable member of your family.

It's the second night she’ll spend with you, and things are already going better than last night. You’ve chalked it up to the sudden changes, hoping that things improve with time, and you have what it takes to be a parent. As the sun sets over the Pacific, your phone buzzes on the counter. You tuck it between your ear and shoulder as you rock her to sleep, talking quietly.

“Hi,” Street greets. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” you answer. “Thank you again for everything.”

“Of course. Your family?”

“Is going to get through this,” you say before briefly explaining the situation your sibling is in, but failing to bring up your new roommate.

“If you need to, we can push plain clothes day,” he offers. “I can have Hicks intercede, because I spent my one get out of jail free card.”

“No, I’ll be ready,” you assure him. “And I took your advice about using sticky notes to revise for the rookie exam. It’s helping a lot, so thank you.”

“Any time. Get some rest, and I’ll see you at the station Monday.”

“You, too. Goodnight.”

You hang up, and your niece nuzzles her face into your bathrobe, inches from your heart.

“Yeah, he gets to me, too,” you murmur.

Exactly a week after getting custody of your niece, you get put on the midnight shift. It’s inconvenient for more than your sleep schedule now, but you can’t get out of it, regardless of your excuse. So, you ask your cousin to watch your niece for one night only, going so far as to give up your apartment so she can have time away from her roommate as an incentive. She agrees, more than happy to spend time with the youngest family member, and you breathe a sigh of relief when she shows up on time.

“I thought you had to wear a uniform,” she muses as she carries her bag inside.

“I change at the station,” you inform her. “Everything you should need is on the counter, there are a few notes on the fridge, and I’ll try to have my phone on.”

“We’ll be fine,” she promises. “Be safe.”

You smile, thanking her once more, then focus on the job. Not on your family, how tired you are, or Street. The last proves to be the most difficult, because something about the way the city lights reflect off his profile makes his magnetism grow infinitely stronger.

“Hey, wait up!” Street calls, jogging out of the station behind you.

The sun is beginning to rise, stray beams of light illuminating the city. You’re ready for breakfast – or is it dinner? - and a nap, you think, but you’re willing to wait for Street.

“20 David is having their annual arm-wrestling competition against LAFD tomorrow,” he says, shifting his backpack on his shoulder. “Would you maybe want to come?”

“Arm wrestling against firefighters?” you repeat.

“Yeah, but don’t count us out.”

“Oh, I made the mistake of accepting an offer from Luca once,” you remember. “I have no doubt they’ll win. It’s just…” I have a baby at home sounds wrong, so you trail off.

“You don’t have to come,” Street offers, his smile dropping and his dimples disappearing. “Just wanted to offer.”

“No, I want to come,” you assure him. “Could I bring someone?”

“Yeah, of course,” Street answers, his smile long gone.

You thank him for the invitation and turn around, eager to get home, leaving him wondering who you’re willing to bring into this part of your life. He must be special, Street thinks, instantly hating himself for how jealous his inner voice sounds.

Your niece laughs, smiling with her cheek smushed against your chest. The baby carrier her dad insists on using every time they go out is now hooked over your shoulders and around your waist, and your first thought was, Oh, I get it. This is amazing. She giggles every time you tap her feet, so as you enter the police station, you distract her with rhythmic taps and gentle pulls to her feet and hands.

Inside SWAT HQ, dozens of firefighters and officers mill around, some carrying drinks, others with plates of cake and snacks, and some trash talking the competition. You found out this morning that the competition isn’t just for bragging rights, but for charity. Looking around for an officer you recognize, you don’t notice that your niece quiets, her eyes wide at the sight of so many large men.

Someone calls your last name, and you lay your hand on the baby carrier, pressing gently against your niece’s back as you turn. Deacon’s eyes widen in surprise for a brief moment, then he smiles and steps closer to you.

“Who is this?” he inquires, waving to your now-smiling niece.

“My niece,” you answer. “I’m watching her for a while.”

Deacon nods, letting her reach out and clasp her fingers around his finger before she giggles. He doesn’t press or ask for the specifics about the situation, and you’re grateful for that.

“I hope it’s okay we’re here,” you add. “Street told me I could come, and could bring someone, but I didn’t exactly tell him my plus one was an eleven-month-old.”

“More than okay,” Deacon assures you. “Everyone is going to love her. Here, follow me. You can put her bag in the situation room, come in here if you need peace and quiet or anything.”

“Thank you,” you say, punctuated with a sigh, following Deacon toward the closed door. “I really appreciate it.”

He nods, taking your backpack after you slip it off your shoulders. There’s a large table against the far wall, and he sets it there for easy access, then offers to show you around until Street finds you. “And he will,” Deacon murmurs.

“You have a baby,” Luca exclaims when you exit the situation room. “Oh, she’s adorable.”

“Thanks,” you reply. “My niece.”

Luca smiles, and she matches his expression before kicking her legs and pointing. You turn your head toward her new object of admiration, and your smile falls when you see Street. He’s not looking at her; he’s staring at your face and standing completely motionless in the hall.

“Hi,” you greet softly.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Deacon says, patting your back kindly.

“Yeah, and I’ve got to stretch out my bicep,” Luca adds, turning to follow Deacon.

You watch Street momentarily, everything growing more awkward by the second. Luckily, your niece breaks the silence with a heart-warming giggle that draws both your attention and Street’s.

“Did I…” he begins. “Did I miss a chapter in the get to know my rookie book?”

“Remember when I said something came up with my family?” you ask. He nods, so you gesture to your niece. “She needed a temporary guardian. I got custody of her last week.”

“She’s your…”

“Niece.”

Street nods as he approaches you. “She’s adorable,” he murmurs.

She squeals, reaching toward him as she pulls away from your chest.

“Nice to meet you too,” Street says, his arm pressed against your shoulder as he smiles at her. “Yeah, I like your aunt, she’s okay.”

“I think I’m a little better than okay,” you mumble, pinching your brows.

Street smiles, turning toward you as you tilt your chin to look at him. Your niece whines, hitting your chest until Street returns his attention to her. She smiles up at him, dropping her head toward her shoulder as she reaches toward him again.

“I think someone likes you,” you muse, patting her back gently.

“Really? Who?” he teases, glancing at you quickly as he offers his hand.

Your niece wraps her hand around his finger, kicking her legs excitedly against your rib cage. Wincing in surprise more than pain, you don’t notice how quickly Street looks up at you, bent at his waist to talk to your niece.

“You alright?” he inquires.

“Fine,” you assure him. “She really likes you. I haven’t seen her respond to someone like this before.”

Street nods as he straightens, then asks, “May I?”

“You don’t have to.”

“Not what I asked.”

You nod then, holding one arm under the bottom of the baby carrier as you reach to undo the clips on either side of her.

“Wait,” Street murmurs. “I got it.”

His hand covers yours briefly, your eyes meeting with only a breath – and a baby – between you. He nods, so you drop your hand to support your niece while Street opens the carrier. His fingers run along the sides of your rib, and you fight off the shiver that threatens to run through you at his touch. It disappears too quickly as he pulls your niece into his arms, chuckling when she smiles against his chest and gets comfortable as he sways.

“Not exactly what I expected when your team said you were a playboy,” you joke.

Street freezes, pursing his lips for a moment before he speaks. “Is that what they told you that made you act so weird?”

Right, you remember. The one thing I wasn’t supposed to bring up. In my defense, I have a baby now. Maybe late off-set pregnancy brain rubbed off on me somehow.

“It- it was just a joke, Officer Street. I know you’d never do anything like that with me, even if it wasn’t,” you defend.

He hesitates before answering, “Fine. But drop the Officer. We’re out of uniform, hanging out with my new best friend to watch Luca demolish some firefighters, so I’m just Street today.”

“Okay. Thanks, Street.”

You watch him walk away, gaining several steps before you trail behind him. Remembering that you have an empty baby carrier halfway strapped on, you stop and look at the situation room, then at Street’s back. You trust him, so you let him carry your niece out of sight while you put her carrier with her bag. In the privacy of the situation room, you press your hands against the edge of a table and sigh deeply. Your niece might be obsessed with Street, and that’s fine, but your feelings about your TO, which aren't so dissimilar, are not.

Street has been with your niece for one hour and forty-six minutes when she grows fussy. Not that you’ve been counting, but Street disoriented you enough when he took her from you that you noticed and remembered the time. That’s normal, you tell yourself, you’re a cop. It’s your job to be observant.

He excuses himself from the group of cops and firefighters who lost all inhibition and dropped their tough acts when they saw a cute, smiling baby, and walks toward you.

“She’s hungry,” you say, pushing off the wall you’d been leaning against to watch practice rounds (and Street). “I’ve got her food.”

You reach out for her, but Street moves one arm behind her head, blocking her from you as he turns away.

“No, I got it,” he argues, drawing a pleased squeal from your niece.

“Street, I didn’t bring her here to have you babysit,” you explain, smiling. “I appreciate it, but you’ve done more than enough.”

“You didn’t sign up for this, but that doesn’t mean you can’t accept help.”

You nod slowly, tipping your head toward the situation room. Street follows you inside, sits beside your bag, and acts like he’s been doing this his whole life. You stand by the door, your fingers hooked together as you watch him. As he feeds your niece, carrying a one-sided conversation with her, you tear your eyes from him and wander around the room, looking at the equipment 20 squad members use daily.

“Is your family okay?” Street asks, his eyes still on your niece as she blinks slowly.

“Yes,” you answer, rubbing a spot on a table to keep yourself from looking at Street. If you turn around, he might see how worried you are, not just about your family but your future with Street and in the department. Incredibly, your niece has brought up so many questions about your own life, but you wouldn’t change this for anything. “Her, uh-her parents are just dealing with some health issues, getting treatment, and need her to stay with me for six months.”

“The doctors are hopeful?” he clarifies.

“99% confident,” you answer. “And everyone is chipping in to help.”

“That’s great.”

Street sounds closer now, and you turn to discover he’s walking toward you. He points to his left, and you see your niece fast asleep on her roll-out changing mat. Street has positioned it against the wall, with her carrier on the other side so she’s safe from falling or hitting the metal table. You sniff, dragging your hand under your eye to ensure you aren’t showing the emotions you’re feeling.

“How are you?” Street asks, leaning against the table beside you.

No one has asked that yet. Your family has called to check in on your niece, offered to babysit while you work, dropped off toys and food, but no one has taken the time or interest in learning how you are adjusting to this new life.

“I’m fine,” you answer softly, inhaling deeply to keep yourself composed.

Street shakes his head, and you drop your chin toward your chest. “I’m tired,” you admit then. “Scared I’m going to mess up or hurt her or something else. I can’t disappoint anyone, Street, they’re counting on me.”

“Hey,” Street murmurs. You don’t look up, so he hooks his finger under your chin to direct your eyes to his. “Hey. You aren’t going to disappoint anyone.”

“You don’t know that,” you argue, your voice strained.

“I do. I’m your teacher, I know everything about your potential.”

You smile, leaning closer to Street. He drops his hand to your waist as he steps closer.

“We can’t,” you whisper.

Street looks between your eyes, the world slowing around you. Someone yells outside, and you both look toward your niece, but she’s still asleep.

“We can’t now,” Street amends. “Care to watch some arm wrestling?”

“Sure,” you answer. “Thank you, Street.”

“Street!” your niece exclaims as she blinks awake.

His eyes widen, his fingers dragging across your waist as he rushes to her side, pulling her to his chest again.

“That’s me!” he says. “You’re so smart, just like your aunt.”

You smile as Street takes your hand, leading you into the heart of SWAT HQ with your heart tucked safely beside his, waiting for the right time.

“Hey, you can’t cheat in front of a baby!” Street yells, drawing a groan from the entire LAFD and a happy giggle from your niece, who will be impossible to part with in six months.