#'maybe there was a brief moment when they[parents] did love each other?'

[just-sp-in-inginthevoid]

Izana but give him a mental breakdown Golden Kamuy, chapter 310-style

[drefear]

Daddy Issues

Best Friend’s Dad!Miguel x Reader

TW: smut, p in v, roughness, dirty talking, fingering, some fluff, some angst, teasing. 

might make a part 2, we’ll see. 

Nothing beat the way it felt to dance, nothing made you feel as alive. This was evident in the way you leaped across the stage and spun into a pirouette. You smiled and panted a bit and continued your routine, jumping into an arabesque as if you were in flight and completely weightless.

The applause filled the auditorium and you felt the out-of-beat rise and fall of your chest as you begged for air silently. You saw your father stand up with tears in his eyes and your best friend as well, who came to watch you for support. You’d finally gotten the lead in the show your dance school was doing, The Nutcracker , and being Clara was like walking on air. You ballet-ran off the stage and waited for the curtains to close, signaling the end of the show. You’d done it, and with perfect timing as you were about to graduate college and no longer have your dance team anymore, since you would officially reach the age limit in the fall of next year and auditions were in the winter. Your heart pounded as you saw Gabriella from the wings, happily waiting for you to come out and take your final bow, and then it was time. You milked the hell out of your curtain call, waving and smiling like a total idiot, but it was worth it. Everything had paid off to finally be at this moment.

But… they were gone? You searched for your father and Gabriella’s faces, but they weren’t in the seats they’d just been in. Did they leave? Maybe went to get the car before everyone rushed to the exits? You felt a little tinge of hurt in your heart, but you would try to understand. They came to watch and that’s all that mattered.

Feeling a tap on your shoulder as you masked your confusion on the stage, you turned to see the two missing familiars holding two large bouquets of flowers. You eyes welled with tears and you hugged them tight, crying happily as they wrapped their arms around you. The moment was perfect.

Well. Almost. There was only one person missing, one person who you already knew wouldn’t make it.

Gabriella’s dad, Miguel. He’d been one of your biggest fans since you and Gabriella became friends in middle school, about the time you began to blossom into the woman you were today. The two of you were inseparable from the moment you’d met, and soon, both of your families were just as close.

You’d been through everything together. Puberty, getting your periods, your parents divorce and your mom leaving, Gabriella’s mother passing away, everything. You two had even decided once you graduated high school, to go to college together and share an apartment.

Which is exactly what you did, and now you both were graduating. Gabriella was finishing her undergraduate for medical school, and you’d gone on to major in the arts, so you could become a professional choreographer. No one could get in between the two of you.

Except her father, you thought for a brief second before shaking the thought from your head.

No! That’s bad, very bad! You chastised yourself for your subconscious wishes.

Gabi’s dad was so nerdy as you grew up, doting on her mom every waking moment. You’d even gone as far as to call him a simp once, to which Gabi laughed about it for days. Your mom and dad barely got along at all through your childhood, so it was no wonder how much her parents loved each other was foreign to you, but things changed when you two became juniors in high school.

You’d had your first kiss, and Gabi begged for details in her room. The two of you sat up and talked about this boy you’d kissed all night, but she was definitely way more excited than you were. It just wasn’t what you’d expected, shoving his tongue into your mouth instantly and basically just pushing your head into his passenger window as you somewhat wanted to get away from him.

Plus, he wasn’t even that cute.

But Gabi hadn’t experienced anything around boys yet, and so you indulged her and made it seem way more romantic and nice than it was. Batting your eyes, you made smoochy sounds as she smacked you with a pillow and you both giggled.

“Girls, lights out.” You heard Gabi’s mom say and you furrowed your brows a bit at Gabi, who just rolled her eyes in response. You waited to hear the footsteps fade before you asked her what that was about.

“My mom and dad have been seeing this counselor. Something about the spark needing to be reignited, so now they go into the guest bedroom every Saturday to have sex.” She made a disgusted face and your eyes widened.

“They plan it?”

“I guess? It’s been every weekend now for like three weeks, and I’m going insane! Let’s sneak out and see a movie or something before my brain dies.” She moved towards her window and waved me over, but you glanced at her bedroom door.

“Wait, I gotta get my shoes from downstairs, I’ll meet you in the backyard.” You spoke and she gave you a thumbs up, before tucking out of her window.

You tiptoed down the stairs and into the living room when you heard it.

“Miguel- right there!” It was hushed, but you heard it clearly. Not being able to resist, you peeked into the kitchen where you’d heard the sounds and your mind was never the same. “What if the girls come down-”

“Shh, we’ll hear them, now focus on me, cariño.” He had his head tucked into her neck as his pants were pulled below his ass, showing his toned bottom as he fucked up into her. Legs wrapped around his waist, he was so much larger than her. How did you just notice this?

Your eyes fluttered downwards to where the two of their bodies met and you gasped. He was huge. Could dick even be that big? He was beyond anything you’d seen in the health textbooks or on twitter.

You stumbled backwards and immediately knocked over the lamp on the table, the house then suddenly becoming quiet. It was as if there was no air inside of your lungs anymore, freezing in place until you saw the swinging kitchen door begin to move, running faster than you ever have for your shoes and bolting back up the stairs. You jumped as you tried to get your shoes on as fast as possible and sat on the window ledge as you heard someone coming into Gabi’s room as you were about to climb down the gutter into her backyard. Looking up, your eyes met his.

His face was sweating lightly and his eyes were blown with lust, watching you like a predator. You glanced down where you’d seen what you should never have, and his pants were pulled up now, but the bulge was still prominent and hard. You gulped and practically fell out the window backwards as you collapsed onto Gabi, who was waiting for you.

“Go!” You whispered harshly and dragged her hand, “Your dad is right behind me and he saw me!”

“Shit, how?” Gabi asked and your mouth went dry, the scene replaying in your mind like a broken record that kept skipping to the same place.

“You don’t want to know.” You hushed and ran to her fence as the lights from the back door flashed on and you two were met with the large shadow of Mr. O’Hara.

“What are you two doing?” His voice was like a death sentence to the both of you, who were sitting in the grass now. You scrambled to get up and your hands were shaking. Nothing was processing in your head. Why were you so sweaty?

“We were just gonna jump on the trampoline, dad.” Gabi lied and you just nodded, eyes avoiding his as he walked closer and folded his arms. You looked at his hands, and you thought back to where they’d just been, rubbing Mrs. O’Hara’s clit. Your eyes flashed back down to the grass.

Your name broke you from your haze, Mr. O’Hara’s voice making your knees tremble a bit. “You don’t look well, maybe I should call your dad and have him come get you.” he spoke and moved to touch your forehead, checking for a temperature. You flinched and moved backwards.

“You know what, you’re right. I’ll walk home I think. See you tomorrow, Gabi.” You rambled and a hand caught your wrist.

“You can’t walk home now, it’s dark out. I’ll just call your dad-”

“He’s working late, can’t come out. I’ll just walk home!” You tried again, begging for whatever higher power could hear you to just let you die.

“No, I’ll drive you then.” He said and your fate was sealed.

You just quietly nodded as Gabi looked at you with a bad feeling showing in her emotions. You two were in so much trouble.

Sitting in the car, your knee bounced with anxiety.

‘Please don’t talk to me, please don’t talk to me, please don’t-’

“So, where were you two actually planning on going?” SHIT.

“Uh. Just to see a movie.” You mumbled, staring out the window.

“And why sneak out? You both know that we’d happily drive you, even give you some money for snacks.” His tone made your skin crawl, now recognizing it as the moaning and grunting you’d heard prior.

You cleared your voice and tried to not look guilty. “We, uh, didn’t want to… bother you guys.” You hoped he wouldn’t even hear you, would just let it all go.

“It’s never a bother, especially when it’s about your and Gabi’s safety.” He spoke and pulled up to a red light. The silence was drowning you, but it was better than answering his questions.

“Gabi said you two were busy tonight, so we thought it’d be better if we just snuck out.” You shifted your legs in the passenger seat, begging the world to strike you with lightning.

“Ah. So Gabi figured it out.” He said and the light turned green again. “Gabi’s mother and I have been married a long time, and sometimes we need to do things to keep-”

“The flame alive, yeah I know. Can we please not talk about this, Mr. O’Hara?” You begged, and your eyes met once more, making you blush wildly. You couldn’t help but remember the way he looked as he thrusted into his wife. You turned away fast so he hopefully wouldn’t see your red cheeks. “Gabi and I will never sneak out again, I promise, just please stop talking about this!” You covered your ears a bit. That’s when he put it together.

“Oh.” he just said and continued to drive, hands white knuckling the steering wheel. “I’m… sorry you saw that.” His tone was hesitant, like he wasn’t even sure what the words he was saying meant.

“Cool, yep, see ya tomorrow Mr. O’Hara!” You chirped and practically jumped out of his moving car as he pulled to a stop outside of your house, no cars in the driveway and no lights on. You ran to the front door and burst inside, locking it behind you and panting.

That night, you’d had your very first orgasm thinking about him fucking you like that and nothing was ever the same.

A year later, and Mrs. O’Hara was diagnosed with terminal breast cancer and had only a few months to live. She pulled through to around a year and you felt your heart break the moment she was gone. Your mother had abandoned your father and you a little into your freshman year of high school, so you’d leaned on Mrs. O'Hara, like she was your own mother, learned her ways and how to be a good cook, and she taught you many things about life that you’d eventually need.

Gabriella and Mr. O’Hara were both devastated, and you could understand why. Nothing was the same for them. After the funeral, you, the O’Hara’s, and your father had a meal together, and that would be a weekly dinner from then on. Most of the time, she would cook for everyone when you all would hang out together, especially after your mom disappeared, but now with her gone, you picked up on cooking duties. It wasn’t as amazing as hers, but it fed you all and it was similar, so you kept up with it every week.

Flash forward to tonight, graduation looming over you like a rain cloud on a summer day. All of your grades were final, your dance team was about to disburse, and you’d be a woman of the world soon. Oh how the times had changed, and tonight was your official family dinner. Instead of cooking at home, your father insisted on you all going out to eat and your and Gabriella’s favorite restaurant.

And so here you were, sitting with that too tight bun still bobbypined and an easy-to-throw-on dress you’d yanked out of your closet in a rush to wear home after your performance. Gabriella held your hand as she chatted about what her and her new boyfriend were going to do after graduation, how he was going to med school with her and she wanted to get an apartment with him. You nodded, excited for her. You weren’t surprised, as she’d mentioned them moving in together multiple times recently, which would mean you'd be looking for a studio apartment soon. That was fine by you, since she’d still be in school and you were about to begin your own career.

The Latin food filled your senses as you enjoyed the food and light conversation. Gabriella spoke with her boyfriend to her other side and your father laughed with a glass of bourbon in his hand. You felt a hand on your shoulder from above and saw that looming figure you saw in your late night fantasies.

“Dad!” Gabi perked up and stood to hug her father, making you also stand to give him a polite peck on the cheek. As you leaned up to do just that, the corners of your lips brushed and your body froze, the feeling soft and… addicting. You snapped out of it almost as fast as you felt it and blinked a few times quickly to look like nothing happened, not meeting his eyes as you sat once more.

When you looked back to where he was hugging your father and shaking Gabis boyfriends hand, your eyes met and he was staring a bit. He sat next to you and you straightened up in your dress. This was new…

You’d done well at hiding your crush on him in the years, you thought. The first few months after you saw him and his wife have sex, you couldn’t look either of Gabi’s parents in the eye, but you’d gotten over it once you lost your virginity. ‘So that’s what it’s like’ you thought once you were done and the boy you were with was in the bathroom.

Dinner was served relatively quickly as you all ordered and drank. Your father had another bourbon neat, and Miguel had a Manhattan, as Gabi and her boyfriend each had a few vodka sodas, and you just slipped on your little tequila drink. It was a special for that week or something and had some sort of juice that made it look blueish purple.

Once you all had a drink in your each, you’d all begun laughing and chatting louder and as the night went one, you’d had a few more.  The live band started and you swayed a bit at the music. When you turned your head, Miguel was looking at you already with his arm behind your chair. You blushed a bit, warm from the liquor in your veins as he chuckled.

“Drunk? I thought you could handle more than that.”

“No no, I don’t… I don’t like to drink too much, so I’m already pushing it.” You smiled and glanced at your dad, who just nodded in agreement.

“My little girl did not get the drinking gene.” He added and sipped the bourbon he had. Gabi laughed and spoke up.

“Should’ve seen her in Miami on Spring Break! She was so drunk, she was dragging strangers to dance with her-“

“Gabi!” You chimed in and glanced at your father and  Miguel, the men laughing at your embarrassment.

“You’re a great dancer, even drunk!” She added and her boyfriend smiled at the memory as well. “How about we dance?” He nodded and pulled her hand to dance to the live music, enjoying the soft singing of the Hispanic music. You glanced at the dance floor and saw all couples, where Gabi now stood with her loving boyfriend.

“Go, find a partner!” You dad added and you shook your head. “Come on! A professional dancer who won’t dance alone?” He teased and you smiled again, just ignoring the comment.

“Here, I’ll dance with you.” Miguel stood and reached for your hand. You froze once more for that moment and nodded. “That way, you can still dance and not be alone.” He smiled wider and pulled you up, walking with you to the dance floor. You stood in front of him and heard the next song begin. Preciosa by Marc Anthony began and the beat made you move your hips gently, as he held your hands and followed your movements.

“They didn’t teach Latin dancing to you, did they?” He asked, a playful tone in his voice. You looked up with a small ‘no’ and he chuckled, moving you in close to his chest and putting one leg in between yours. “Follow my lead, and loosen your hips. No ballet here, amor.” The roll of his tongue on the ‘r’ made your hips stutter in their movement. You’d never been so nervous to dance. He held one hand up and placed the other hand around your waist, swiveling you and twirling you both as he moved with precision and ease across the dance floor. You felt the eyes of everyone around you, but you couldn’t care. This was a moment you knew you’d waited your whole life for, and this was probably as close as you’d get to being with Miguel, so you’d ignore everyone and enjoy it while it lasted. A smile tugged at your features and you let him lead you. He even lifted you at one point like you were nothing but a piece of paper, a feather.

When that song ended, Vivir Mi Vida played and the tempo became faster, making you both continue with hast and creating a bit of sweat on both of you. He took control of the dance and spun you around the dance floor, making sure no one got in either of your ways as you laughed with glee.

The night moved in a blur as you and Miguel moved like a couple who’d been together for years, two who moved as one.  A slow song played and the strum of the guitar moved your bodies close, making you lean back and forth intimately against each other. The song ended and you both realized there was very few people left in what once was a bustling restaurant, and when you turned back to your table, your father was handing the bill to the waiter. Miguel stopped and walked back.

“I told you I was taking care of it tonight.” He caught your dad’s wrist and took the check, replacing your father’s credit card with his, and giving it back to the poor confused server. They hurried away as your dad shook his head.

“Couldn’t let me have that, O’Hara? You and Gabi came to support my little girl, and you even swept her onto the dance floor and made her smile. Least I can do is buy ya dinner.” He laughed and Miguel smiled.

“Not a chance. She’s been a wonderful friend to Gabriella for years, and she’s like my own mija. Let me treat you all and celebrate her.”

The words echoed in your mind and broke down your wonderful night.

His mija? As in… his own daughter?

You cursed yourself silently and painting a fake smile onto your lips as you all got up to leave once he took back his card. Gabriella was speaking to you and rambling about the apartment her and her boyfriend were looking at tomorrow, but all you could hear was the white noise of your own thoughts crippling your ability to think.

You tossed and turned all night after hearing Miguel say those words and you pushed down the feelings you’d pretended were not there for years, as they threatened to roll over your being and blow through your eyes without grace. How could you let yourself think anything like that again?

A few weeks later and you sat with Gabi in her backyard, tanning in the chairs by her pool as you both heard a low “I’m home,” from inside. The back door swung open and you saw Mr. O’Hara standing there. He was silent for a moment before getting a bit irritated. “What the hell are you two wearing?” He barked, angered.

Gabi shrunk back. “Dad, what are you talking about? They’re just bikinis!” She tried to call him down, but he seemed to get even worse.

“Just- those aren’t even bikinis, those- that’s less than underwear, you both might as well be wearing nothing!” He yelled in upset, like a lion roaring in pain.

“Maybe I should just go.” You mumbled and his eyes snapped to you. Uh oh…

“Not a chance. Yours is worse than hers! You look naked!” He stepped towards you and instinctively you took a step back, behind the lawn chair.

“M-Mr O’Hara, no one can see us. We’re in your backyard.” You spoke carefully, trying to make it better. “So no one even saw us, right? We'll change.” You nodded, obediently as you grabbed Gabi’s hand and slipped back into the house, hearing him grumble to himself as you passed him.

“I’ve never seen him talk to us like that.” Gabi spoke, putting on a t-shirt. She sighed and pulled her hair up. “Not even when I had that hickey sophomore year!”

“Maybe he just had a rough day and that was the last straw?” You hadn’t changed yet, staring at yourself in the bikini in the mirror. It really wasn’t terrible, maybe a bit more of a cheeky back than a full one, the straps of your bikini fairly thin. Just a regular red triangle bikini. Maybe you’d just gained weight? You huffed, “my bag is downstairs with my clothes, I’m gonna go grab it.”

“Do you wanna just borrow a shirt?”

“I mean, maybe. Anything baggy, so he doesn’t freak out again?” You asked and glanced at her hamper of clean clothes.

“Yeah, grab whatever.” She waved you off and you reached in, grabbing a large t-shirt and a pair of soccer shorts. “I’m gonna go start making some dinner, come down when you’re done changing to help.” She spoke and walked out of the room. You sighed and pushed your hair behind your ears, sitting on her bed and holding the discarded bikini. Was he really upset? Well, maybe he was since he saw you as his own daughter. You begrudgingly got up and walked down the hall, passing by his office and spotting him.

“Come in here.” His tone was sharp, almost nerve wracking. You followed the voice and saw him with his arms folded over his chest, an irritated glare in his eyes. “I’m disappointed in both of you for thinking something like that is appropriate to wear.”

“Mr. O’Hara, we weren’t out in public, and no one else was around!” You answered, regretting your decision to stand up for yourself, as you notice the look in his eyes and realize you’re just digging your own grave.

“So you two weren’t taking a snapchat in those outfits? No videos or TikToks?” He asked, making you bite your tongue and avoid laughing at hearing him say that stuff.

“Maybe one tiktok…” You trail off and he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But, we didn’t post it, and I can delete it.” You justified and he nodded, concern still etched into his beautiful face. You take out your phone and as you begin to delete the video, his eyes narrow.

“...are those my clothes?” His head cocked to the side like a confused dog and you looked down, just as curious to see what he was talking about.

“No, they were in Gabi’s clean clothes.”

“Well, that’s my t-shirt from high school and those are my workout shorts.” His words made you quiet, forgetting about deleting the video. You blushed a bit and immediately starting searching for your bag, making a bee-line for the living room. “Oh my god, I’ll go change, I’m so sorry.” You rambled some flustered apologies before he could say anything else and ran off to the bathroom with the bag on your shoulder. Locking the door, you stared at yourself in the mirror. Could today get any worse? You leaned your head against the wall and kept your eyes shut, then took your clothing off once more to change into the clothes that actually belonged to you.

Tugging your skirt down to a suitable length incase Mr. O’Hara decided to berate your fashion choices once more, you glanced at something on the floor. It was another shirt of his, this time obvious by how large this one was, and the smell.

It was definitely something he’d just worked out in, having a particular musk to it, and the smell of his aftershave and body wash. It was him to a tee, and something in your body lit on fire just from the scent.

Without a second thought, you stuffed the shirt in your bag and exited the bathroom.

That night was filled with stifled moans and bitten knuckles as you quieted yourself while using your vibrator. His shirt stayed stationed in the hand you were biting down on, smelling his scent while you touched yourself until you were seeing stars and having trouble remembering your own name.

You hid that shirt the next day, stuffing it behind your pillows for safe keeping.

A day later, Miguel and Gabi had come over to watch some sport together. You’d never really been interested in sports unless Gabi was playing, but you enjoyed the company, so you often cooked for them all while they enjoyed the show. You mixed the guacamole as you heard someone walk into the kitchen behind you.

“Smells great.” Miguel spoke as he opened the fridge.

“Homemade chips, for the guac.” You nodded, still somewhat keeping it short with him after the prior day’s events.

“You can’t still be mad, right?” He asked and you turned to him fully, pausing the work on the mashed avocado and staring at him. He was holding two beers.

“I was never mad, but I still don’t get it.” You shrugged, “it just didn’t really seem like a big deal.”

“Really?” He seemed to get a little upset at that, placing the beers down and leaning on the kitchen island. “Because I think it was a huge deal. You’re barely an adult, you can’t be dressed like-”

“Like what? A woman? It was a bikini, it’s not like I was standing on the corner!”

“Watch how you talk to me.” He got cold and serious and your temper was flaring up.

“Why should I? You’re not my dad or my boyfriend, so you don’t get to tell me how to dress.” You shot back and he was quiet for a second. This prompted you to continue your winning streak. “And I don’t think you get to tell me what’s appropriate in front of people.”

“What are you talking about?” He hissed, taking a small step closer to you. “You don’t remember? When I caught you fucking on your kitchen counter? Cause I remember. Vividly.” You jabbed back and his eyes widened, the anger on your face apparent. Without another word, you stomped out of the kitchen and up the stairs to your bedroom, slamming the door and sitting on your bed.

You shouldn’t have brought that up, you knew you shouldn’t have, but you couldn’t help it. Who was he to tell you what you could and couldn’t do? He was just your friend’s dad, he had no right to yell at you about how you dressed or what you did. It wasn’t his place.

“Honey?” Your dad said from outside your door and you got up, opening it for him. “Miguel told me that he upset you, so I told him that he and Gabi should go home for the night so I could talk to my little girl.” Your dad always called you ‘his little girl,’ no matter how old you got. Tears started welling in your eyes, and you didn't know why, but you started crying into your father’s chest. He hugged you in a tight embrace as you continued to let out the tears you didn’t know you were holding in.

Some time went on and after about a week, you’d gone to Gabi's childhood home to hang out and watch a movie while Miguel was out. It was perfect. You didn’t have to see him and you could have some one-on-one time with Gabi.

Until she fell asleep halfway through the movie. You sighed, getting up and getting a glass of water. The week had been stressful. Every free second you had, you were touching yourself to Miguel’s shirt, tracing your clit, biting your lip to avoid making sounds. Even just the memory of his smell made your knees wobble a bit and you held onto the fridge handle a bit tighter while getting the water. The front door opening signaled you that he was now home. Time to leave as fast as possible, you thought to yourself, and placed the full cup of water in the sink.

Before you could walk out of the kitchen, Miguel was in the doorway staring down at you. “I just got off the phone with your father.” His voice was monotone, which wasn’t abnormal.

“You can tell him I’ll be home soon.”

“Well, he had a few questions for me. About you.” He spoke and something was off about how he was speaking. Was he… taunting you?

You finally met his eyes and you were right, something was off.

“He said the cleaning lady found a man’s shirt in your bedroom.” Your heart dropped. No no no no!

“Oh.” Was all you could muster up as he watched your reaction. “He asked if you and Gabi had any new boys around, any new friends. He said you randomly started crying the other day and he was worried you might be going through some sort of relationship that he’s unaware of. So?” He asked and you just clenched your jaw.

“Mr. O’Hara, that is none of your-”

“Say my name,” he demanded.

“What?” You questioned, taking a step backwards.

“Say my name. You want me to treat you like an adult? Say my name.”

“Fine. Miguel, that is none of your business.” You barked at him, a smirk forming on his lips.

“I think it is my business, though. Since it’s my shirt.” He announced and your eyes swelled to the size of dinner plates. How did he-

“It was just so strange, how one of my shirts went missing, one I had been wearing the day I yelled at you about that bikini, and then suddenly your dad finds a shirt that matches the one I’m missing. Weird coincidence, hmm?” he folded his arms and you felt your body running cold. How could you steal from a genius and think he wouldn’t realize? “So let me get the facts in order. You watched me have sex in my kitchen, you stole my dirty clothing, and you pranced around my house in a skimpy bikini.” He spoke in a lower voice, as if he was just thinking out loud, and you noticed the look in his eyes was becoming hungry.

“Y-Yes ok I did that, I’m sorry. Don’t tell anyone it was yours!” You begged and he chuckled at you, looking to the side.

“I’m not telling anyone anything, but I have a question.” He paused and brought his thumb to his lip, as if thinking about something he was trying to word correctly. “What were you doing with my shirt?”

Your blood ran cold, the sound of your heart beating in your ears too loud to even think. He… wanted you to say it. Heat began to rise up your neck and cover your cheeks and ears with a tint of red.

“C’mon, say it.” His lips twitched to a smirk and you squeezed your legs together at the view you had of him. Dress shirt slightly unbuttoned, belt around those slim hips, slacks tight in all the right places from how muscular his thighs were.

Embarrassment filled your head as you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, and as you lifted them up his body, red rubies claimed your sight like they owned you.

“I-I… thought about you.”

“Be specific, amorcita, what about me?” He moved forward and tilted your chin up to keep eye contact with him as you spoke.

You gulped and closed your eyes, too humiliated to say what you were about to while seeing his face. “I thought of you and I having sex… touching me and stuff.”

“Eyes on me, mi corazon.” You opened your eyes and he was bent down to where he could kiss you. His breath smelled like mint. “Tell me more.”

“I imagined you on top of me, b-behind me… kissing me.” You trailed off as his lips ghosted over yours, then smiling and crashing together like a crescendo of a symphony. His hands gripped the sides of your body, picking you up and placing you on the countertop.

“You thought of me touching you here?” His hand trailed down your torso towards the front of your jean shorts, tracing where your pussy sat, hot and waiting. Your breath hitched as you nodded, and he smirked again. He liked the effect he had on you, it was obvious.

“Words, mi amor.”

“Yes, Miguel, please.” You spoke, your words shaky as he laughed at your shyness. “Where was that attitude from before? All that sass?” He whispered against your ear as he unzipped your jean shorts, pulling down the material to expose you more to him. His fingers rubbed against the lacy fabric of your panties, and you lost your mind for a minute, panting a bit just from the slight contact. “You’re that sensitive? Just from a little touching?” He purred and yanked your panties off as well, your naked core against the chill of the air sending a shiver up your spine. “Where’d all that shit you were talking from the other day go?”

“Miguel,” You beg and place a hand on his shoulder.

“Gotta open you up first, Princessa.” His words were low and rumbled in your body as he gave you pet names.

A finger slipped into you without issue, and your back arched into his chest as he massaged your thigh with the other hand. A moan erupted in your throat and he quickly took the hand on your thigh to cover your mouth. “Shhh, we can’t have Gabi finding us like this, right?” You nodded and practically saw your eyes cross as he pushed in another finger, beginning to feel full with just the two digits. He worked them back and forth in you as he placed soft kisses against your throat. Your whole body jolted, like an electric current was rolling throughout your body.

His fingers began to curl against that spongy spot that had you rolling your eyes back, letting out more muffled sounds against his other hand, his eyes hooded and watching you through his thick lashes. Like a predator, he moved them faster and you felt yourself about to teeter over the edge. His thumb brushed against your clit and you were sent into a full earth-shattering orgasm, gripping his shoulder for stability as he let you ride his fingers through it.

“Preciosa…” he mumbled and unzippered the dress pants, pulling himself out and watching your face change from blissed out to fearful. “Don’t worry, I’ll go slow…” he whispered and lined himself up. Pulling you to the edge of the counter, he pushed the tip into you and you closed your eyes, feeling the stretch of his size already. He moved slowly as you adjusted and once he was fully in, you hissed a bit. You both were completely breathless, like two wild beasts waiting to see who would make the first deadly move. “Look at me while I fuck you good, I want to see that pretty face while I’m inside you.” Keeping eye contact, he moved his thumb back on your clit, making you shake a bit and let out pretty little sounds again. He started to move at this, feeling so good and overwhelmingly full. It was as if you’d been speared onto something, he was impaling himself into you and you loved every second. You began to thrust back against him and he practically lost it then and there, watching you frantically chase your own high making him almost feral. He yanked you off of the counter top, flipping you over and pushing you down flat against it. Shoving himself back inside of you, he began a relentless pace, bruising your cervix over and over. As you got louder, he pulled your hair back to make you arch against his chest.

“Yeah? You like how I ruin you?” He taunted, slamming into you from behind and causing the sound of skin slapping skin to echo across the room. “This pussy is mine.” He growled and gave your clit a gentle slap, making you practically scream out.

“M-Miguel…!” You were panting from how he’d made you so breathless, so overwhelmed by him.

“Be quiet, or do you want Gabi to know you’re a slut for me? That you love when I fuck you better than anyone ever could.” He went on and you nodded along. He was right. He’d ruined you for any other man. You’d never be able to fuck anyone else without comparing them to him.

“That’s right, amorcita, moan for me.” He egged you on as he bottomed out once more, making your legs shake. He lifted one of your knees to lean on the counter beside you and pounded into you from a new, deeper angle, giving you chills. That was it, that new spot he’d found made you come around him instantly, muscles tightening from the orgasm. You felt someone warm fill you, and realized he had finished as well. Grabbing your face harshly, he pulled your face sideways to give you a rough kiss as he kept himself inside of you for a few more moments.

You gasped for air as you felt him slip out of you, his seed dripping down your leg a bit and making you hyper aware of what just happened. You both stood, half dressed and heaving in silence. Your eyes found his, and everything hit you all at once. Grabbing your underwear and jean shorts off of the ground, you rushed out of the kitchen and began getting dressed as you walked.

“Wait-” He called out and yelled your name, but you were fast and he was still tucking himself back into his pants. As you reached the door, there was a knock and you buttoned your shorts as you swung open the door.

A nicely dressed woman, beautiful and tall, stood there holding a jacket. The two of you stared at each other for a second before she looked past you and smiled.

“Ah, Miguel! I realized you left your jacket in my car.” She spoke, then looked down at you. “Is this your daughter?”

Tears built up in your eyes and you looked back at Miguel, shocked.

“You were on a date?” Your words could’ve been poisonous with how you spoke to him, because they stung him terribly. His mouth was parted, still in shock.

You’d had enough. Your body pushed past the woman’s and you ran down the street to your home, only a few blocks away. It wasn’t your apartment, but your dad should be home and you could just tell him you didn’t want to talk about it. He never pushed you.

Knocking on the door, he opened it and immediately was afraid.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, I just want to stay here tonight, ok?” You spoke and he nodded, hugging your crying frame. Tonight had been too much to think about, and as he walked you in, you finally felt the exhaustion hit you. You trudged off to your bed and fell asleep.

Part 2

[star-sim]

supernova ☆ riki nishimura

☆ hero! riki x fem! villain! reader ☆ summary: riki was the city's top hero, you were the top villain. when your archnemisis pulls up to your apartment late at night, all battered and bruised, you just sighed and took him in. you were a villain, not a monster! ☆ genre: superhero! au, good ol' patching up scene, enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, fluff, a lil bit of angst ☆ warning(s)? injuries, riki has a panic attack, but it is very brief ☆ word count: 3.7k words ☆ i love this trope sm reblogs are appreciated! >_<

When you were awoken by the sound of banging on your door, you nearly killed someone. It was a dark and stormy night, with rain pouring down so hard that you had to put on your headphones.

But the moment that you saw Riki, your biggest enemy, standing at your doorstep all you could do was sigh, and let him fall into your arms.

"Not again."

By day, you were a regular high school student. You had a lot of friends, with a few admirers and confessions along the way. Like everyone else, you worked hard and kept up with your studies.

By night you were the city's top supervillain, aptly named Supernova for the bright and theatrical spectacles that were your terrorizing.

But while everyone thought you were some evil spawn, you were really just carrying on a family business. Thank your supervillain parents and supervillain grandparents. You had nothing personal towards the civilians that you terrorized, it was all just a part of the job. Because your family was scattered around in different cities for their supervillain activities, you lived on your own.

Enter: Riki Nishimura.

You knew the moment that you saw his grown-out bleached highlights and oversized black clothes, you knew he was up to no good.

He'd transferred to your high school in the middle of the school year, and unfortunately, you had far too many classes with him. It felt like wherever you went, he followed. 

You didn't like him. 

You knew you were popular at school, and maybe a quiet guy like Riki didn't have good experiences with the popular crowd, but did he have to treat you like you didn't exist? All he did was grumble under his breath something that no one could hear, before putting on his headphones and ignoring the world around him. Some courtesy would be nice!

Oh, you didn't like him one bit.

Which was why the moment that you realized that the new hot-shot superhero in town whose arrival suspiciously aligned with Riki's transfer to your high school was Riki Nishimura himself, you wanted to laugh.

The reckless, brash, and otherwise cocky, yet self-righteous and heroic, superhero persona Riki put on was so perfect, yet so unlike anything you've seen. 

Riki Nishimura, who couldn't pay anyone any mind even if he was forced to, fighting crime and representing justice! Hilarious. Leave it to the most arrogant and condescending person to name themself Orion, after the brightest constellation in the sky.

You couldn't remember a single headline you read where he actually saved someone. So much for a so-called superhero.

And your identity was no secret to Riki either.

In the past few months, you and Riki had had multiple showdowns— on rooftops, over traffic, heck, even in Riki's own house. It was no surprise that he figured out pretty quickly that the popular girl that everyone liked was the worst supervillain in the city's history.

Glares in the middle of class, shoving you if you were in his way, and sometimes even purposefully following you to the bathroom just so he can wait outside to pass a few mean words to you. So childish.

The only thing keeping you and him from revealing each other's identities was the fear that the other would reveal your own identity.

Which was why you could almost 100% trust that Riki wouldn't say a word.

You could not stand Riki Nishimura, whether it be his civilian self or his superhero self.

However, something was changing.

Something bad, something bigger than anything you or Riki could even imagine. 

There was a bigger, and much worse, villain organization in town. 

Instead of pulling little pranks, terrorizing people, and just sometimes breaking in and robbing places, this new villain organization was legitimately hurting people.

You and Riki couldn't help that you were just teenagers, which was why in the first few weeks of this new arrival, you couldn't help but pay no mind to the new villains in town and focus on fighting each other.

But one night, when Riki didn't show up at your window like he usually would to fight you, you found yourself just a tad worried. Not that you cared about Riki. Had he finally resigned and given up on fighting you?

However, when you went on your nightly villain patrol a few hours later, you felt your heart drop to your stomach when you found Riki Nishimura in his hero suit slumped over at the back of a dark alleyway, covered in cuts, bruises, and blood, barely conscious.

"What the hell happened?" you asked, as you crouched down in front of him. You couldn't even tell if he was still alive, so you reached down to check his pulse. But the moment that your fingers brushed up against Riki's neck, he jerked away, immediately slapping your hand away.

"Stay the fuck back!" he yelled, suddenly fully awake and alert. Even with the mask over his eyes, you could see how red and blood-shot they were. "Don't— Don't fuckin' touch me!"

You lurched away immediately, standing back up on your feet.

And you watched in sheer horror as the one boy you've been fighting for months struggled to his feet, clutching his side. Under the moonlight you could see the streaks of red and skin peeking out under his suit. He was cut. And severely injured everywhere, for that matter.

You'd never forget the sound of Riki's ragged breaths and silent curses under his breath as he stumbled. And what startled you the most was how he clenched his fists, standing defensively.

"Fight me," he breathed, teetering on his feet. "I—I can still fight."

"Are you crazy?!" you cried. "I'm not going to fight you."

"What," Riki rasped. You could hear how strained his voice was, almost as if he had been screaming for hours. "Are you finally giving up? Are you admitting defeat?"

You scoffed. "No, of course not— Oh my god, are you oka—"

Riki was hunched over, clutching the gash on his side. A single stream of light hit his skin just enough for you to see how deep it was. Dark red blood stained Riki's gloved hands. He groaned in pain, a sound that you never wanted to hear again. 

The way his shoulders and legs shook like he was about to fall over made your heart pound. 

You reflexively reached out for him. "Riki, are you—"

"I said don't touch me!" he shouted, bringing his other hand to shield himself defensively. Yet the moment those words left his lips he fell to his knees. You could see how his face scrunched in pain, his brows furrowed and lips curled. "Just give me a second. I— I just need a second and we can fight."

"You're in no condition to fight," you crossed your arms. "I will not fight you."

But it seemed like your words fell upon deaf ears. Not because Riki wasn't listening, but because he collapsed over himself, falling unconscious.

That night you used your supervillain abilities for good, for the first time ever. But not too good, of course. You just took him to the hospital, making sure that both of you were in your civilian forms and saying that you found him unconscious in the alleyway.

You couldn't look him in the eye the next day at school.

You quickly realized that this wasn't a one-time occurance, because it seemed like every few weeks you'd find Riki severely injured. He'd always proclaim that he could still fight you, but both of you knew that that just wasn't possible. 

It was the new villains in town, he finally admitted. They were purposefully targeting Orion, or Riki, for he was the city's main crime-fighter.

And for the first time ever, you actually felt bad for him.

At school, you'd see the way dark eyebags hung under his eyes, a heavy limp in his walk. Sometimes, he wouldn't even spare you a glance.

Since then, the streets have been more dangerous than they ever were.

So now, you couldn't even be surprised when Riki showed up to your apartment in the middle of the night, covered in injuries.

He was still in his hero suit, but there were rips everywhere, coupled with his torn up mask. His hair was wet, whether from the rain outside or from the sweat of fighting. Either way, he was shivering, small whimpers of pain leaving his lips.

The boy fell into your arms almost immediately, and as you pulled him into your peach-lit apartment, warmth kissing his skin, he murmured something.

"Shhh," you whispered into his ear. "Don't talk."

He was heavy, just as heavy as he was all those times you threw him across skyscraper rooftops. Yet as you carried his slumped body to your bathroom, he was as light as a feather.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled against your shoulder. His eyes were shut, his body devoid of all life and energy. Only his lips moved. "I didn't— I didn't know where else to go."

You only hushed him.

You set him down on your bathroom counter with a flick! of the lightswitch. It seemed like the moment that he was set down, Riki let his head fall back against the mirror behind him, his body giving out. 

Under the warm light of your bathroom, you took a closer look at his face.

Despite the cut on his lip, Riki's lips were purple, probably from being out in the storm for so long. Other than the smudges of dirt and gravel on his face, you couldn't help but notice the streaks of redness streaming down his cheeks. Like he was crying.

You stared at him for a little bit longer. You'd seen him beaten down like this before. As a matter of fact, you've seen him battered like this so many times these past few weeks. 

But what set all of those instances apart from now was that you couldn't see that glimmer of hope in Riki's eyes anymore.

All those times before, he would be knocked down and bruised up, yet Riki always had the spirit to stand up again and declare a fight.

But now, all he did was slump back in resignation.

It made your heart clench in your chest.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you realized that Riki was probably more physically hurt than any teenage boy should ever be. You made a bee-line for your kitchen, fixing him a glass of water. 

When you came back, you shoved the glass into his hands, forcing him to drink it.

Meanwhile, you started a warm bath for him. When you made sure that he could stand on his own, you gave him his privacy to bathe, with the reassurance that you'd be right outside.

And as the bathroom door shut, you sighed.

Riki shuddered as the warm water touched his skin, sinking down into the bathtub. It hurt to move. His entire body ached like hell. It felt like any wrong move would break his bones.

If someone told him that he'd be bathing in top supervillain Supernova's bathtub a few days ago, he'd lose his mind. But now after the events of tonight— being ambushed, tortured, and beaten by a group of villains before his escape— this felt ordinary.

Riki felt himself relax into the warmth, letting his eyes fall shut. 

He felt disgusting. All sweaty and bloodied up, tears still staining his cheeks. The water did just enough to make him feel a little better. Still, even if he was far away from those villains, Riki couldn't shake off the feeling of their hands on him. It made the hairs on his neck stand up. He knew that he was safe now, for they couldn't reach him now. Yet Riki couldn't help but have that eerie feeling that he was being watched, that at any moment, they'd come back and hurt him.

Chills ran down his spine, like spindly cold fingers clawing at his skin. Riki's heart dropped.

He was safe. He knew he was. No one could hurt him. But why could Riki still hear their voices? His breathing became ragged again.

He's okay, he told himself. But his body told him otherwise. 

And just as Riki pulled his knees to his chest, digging his nails into his palms as he rocked back and forth, a knock on the bathroom door pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Riki?" your voice rang from the other side of the door. "I got you some clean clothes. I'll leave them out here for when you're done."

"O-Okay," he called back.

His heart still raced in his chest. He bit on his lip.

"Wait," he said from inside the bathroom.

He could hear you hum from the other side. 

"C-Can you stay in here with me?"

You didn’t need Riki to explain. After all, your entire family was supervillains. You’ve seen it yourself: how painful and traumatizing it could actually be.

So here you were, pouring bubble bath soap into the tub as Riki sat rigidly. 

"Am I making you uncomfortabl—"

"No," Riki answered quickly, pulling his knees closer to his chest. "It’s just awkward."

You nodded understandingly, watching as the bubbles began forming in the water. They came in twos, then fours, and suddenly the entire tub was filled with bubbles. 

As if he wasn’t the city’s only protector, and as if he was a young child, Riki watched, fascinated. He reached out to touch the foamy bubbles, staring at his hands.

"Are you okay with the bubbles?" you asked, but Riki only absentmindedly nodded. too occupied with the bubbles. Your lips curved. "How are you feeling now?"

Riki’s eyes flickered up to your face. He was about to shrug, but the aching feeling that he was beginning to forget returned. It struck through him, piercing through his skin in a way that made him hiss, keeling over himself.

Immediately, you rushed to his side. You reached out for him, and for the first time, he didn't jerk away. 

Riki turned a little bit, twisting his torso just enough so that you could see his back. 

And oh, his back was horrible.

You've seen some bad injuries, but the lashings, gashes, and slashes with red blood oozing out littered his skin. In fact, all across Riki's back and shoulder area you could see some pretty nasty gouges.

But that wasn't the most concerning part. Starting from the base of his neck and trailing down his side, a reddish-mauve colored scar was imprinted. On the inside of his arm, there was a collection of darker blemishes. They were not protruding from the surface, nor were they bumpy. The collection of blemishes continued, spotting his skin, until it reached a large patch.

You knew what it was just by the sight of it: burn scars.

How did he—

It seemed like Riki read your mind. 

"I know, I know," he breathed. "Bad, isn't it?"

You nodded, your mind still racing. How the hell does a teenage boy even obtain such a severe burn scar?

"I got—" he let out a groan of pain as he turned back to you so that you couldn't see his back anymore. "I got the new ones earlier when those bastards—" you watched as he paused, his brows crashing together like he was remembering something he didn't want to— "when those bastards captured me."

Before you could question further, he continued. "Those burn scars are old."

"How did you get them?" you blurted.

He gave a sly look, almost with a curve in his lips. "I'm a hero, you know."

When you only gaped at him confused, the grin on his lips grew. "There was a burning apartment complex a few weeks ago. I had to rescue some victims, and got a few burns in the process. No biggie though."

You blinked.

Oh.

Maybe you were wrong about him. You shook off the oncoming guilt, focusing on the boy first.

"When you're ready, I'll patch you up," you said, rising to your feet to inspect your bathroom cabinet. 

He hummed.

"Ack— That hurts—!"

"Stay still!"

Riki's physical state was much worse than you thought. It wasn't just his back. It was everywhere else.

He was covered head to toe with bruises and cuts, some of them so severe that you couldn't believe your eyes.

Somehow, even when he was literally injured he still managed to be an asshole. So much of an asshole that you had to give him candies to shut him up.

"How do I know these are not poisoned?" he asked you suspiciously, though with a sly little grin as if his lip wasn't busted. He examined the foil-wrapped candies in his palm as if it were a specimen of science.

You scoffed. "Suit yourself. Either you eat my poison candies or shut up."

He did both.

As you disinfected his wounds, you watched his expressions closely, being careful to hurt him even more.

You stood between his legs as he sat up on the bathroom counter. If punching him square in the face multiple times didn't count, this was probably the closest that you'd ever been to him. 

It was completely silent now, so quiet that you could only hear his hisses of pain and the rain that continued to pitter-patter outside. Everything was so still, so quiet that you could almost hear his heart beat.

His wet hair dripped from time to time, a bead of water dripping onto the counter or maybe his chest. Maybe it was a bad time to think this, but you couldn't deny that Riki was a handsome boy. Maybe people at school would disagree, but his rugged and brooding look was always something nice to look at.

You focused on his biggest wounds first, and after patching and bandaging all of them up, you were at last tasked with the injuries on his face.

It was weird to see someone that he'd spent so much time fighting be so kind and tender with him. On most days that he was injured, Riki usually just sloppily cleaned himself up. He ran on pure ambition and passion, at the expense of his physical health. But here you were, gently cradling his face like he was made of glass, a type of warmth that he hadn't experienced in years. 

So pretty, was all the thought. He'd be lying if he said that you weren't a formidable opponent. Strong, fiery, and just as much of an asshole as him. But pretty, too.

The feeling of your fingers gently pressing against his lips was weird, but he didn't mind it. The way you wet your lips unconsciously, swiping your tongue over them, made him feel all different things. 

Whatever, he thought. 

He pushed it all to the back of his mind.

But that was difficult in itself. 

You were just so close. He'd been close to you before, when you fought him, but not like this. Not in such an intimate way. 

Maybe it was how physically drained he was. Maybe it was the burden of the city weighing down on his shoulders, or the mental distress he underwent earlier. It could be the warmth of your apartment and the sound of raindrops on the window down the hall, or it could be his craving for affection, any at all. 

But before he could even think, Riki's hand jerked out to grab your wrist, pulling it away from his lips. And in one swift movement, he smashed his lips onto yours.

All time stopped.

It was just the two of you frozen.

And then, you pulled away, resting your hands on the counters to stabilize yourself.

"We can't—" you whispered against his lips, a whimper coming from your lips when Riki's hand wrapped around your waist— "We can't do this."

"Why not?" he rasped, leaning into you again. You pulled away just enough for him to miss your lips.

"You're you, and I'm me," you shook your head. "It won't work."

Yet all your resolve crumbled when Riki's hand slithered up to gently push your head closer to his, his lip brushing against yours.

"It's just a kiss," he said coolly. Then, he pressed his lips against yours again, and the moment that they touched, you hungrily deepened the kiss. You gripped the countertops under your fingertips, leaning into him as you ravage his lips.

"And plus—" Riki murmured against your lips between kisses— "We're kissing as you and me, not Orion the hero and Supernova the villain—"

"Just shut up," you shut him up with your lips.

And he did.

"I have something to tell you."

The two of you settled into bed a while ago. You forced Riki to stay the night, because it was still too dangerous for him to leave right now.

It's quiet again. Although there was a wall of pillows separating the two of you, you couldn't help the beating in your chest. And you were sure Riki couldn't either.

It was getting late. You could feel that familiar burn in your eyes, the sensation you got when you were getting sleepy. You could tell from Riki's softer, much more slurred voice that he was, too.

"What's up?"

He was silent for a little bit. "It's about the villains. It's really bad—"

You shook your head. "Tell me tomorrow morning."

"No," he continued, and you could hear the strain in his voice. The desperation. "I— I need your help. The city is at risk, and—"

"Tell me tomorrow," was all you said. You could hear him sigh. "Riki, I promise that I'll help you. But you are exhausted right now. Tell me in the morning."

"Okay."

It took much longer for Riki to fall asleep than it did for you. He was awake until the sun rose, not even being gifted with the privilege of rest. 

There were a few times where Riki almost started crying, blinking back his tears. It felt hopeless as thoughts raced through his head.

But then he'd hear you stir and feel you reach for him, and Riki would take it as a sign to slow down.

He didn't know if tomorrow would come.

He didn't even know if tomorrow would be kind to him.

But for some reason, the thought of you being beside him while it all fell down made him feel just a little bit better.

How strange.

[barcaatthemoon]

stood up || barcelona x teen!reader ||

you get stood up on your first date, and alexia enlists some help to make you feel better.

there was something special in the air as you got ready for your date. you hadn't told anybody, but it was your very first date. between your teammates and your parents pushing you to focus on school or football, your chances for dating had been slim. at least they had been before you were asked out by the very cute captain of the basketball team, matthias.

matthias was everything that you had been told to look out for in a guy. not only did he look like the literal prince charming, but he was also very sweet. the two of you had run into each other at your school's gym a couple of times, and he had always held the door open for you and carried your bag to your car for you.

everything was going to be perfect tonight, and you just knew it. you were giddy as you rode your bike over to the restuarant. for a brief moment, you felt panic when you didn't see him before realizing that you were early.

it was hours later when you realized that matthias wasn't coming. you tried your hardest not to make a scene as you gathered your things and made your way out of the restaurant. you thought that you were home free whenever you heard a voice call out your name from across the parking lot.

"(y/n)!" alexia shouted. you slowly turned around to see her running towards you excitedly. it could have easily just been an accident running into her, but she was the one who you had texted the location of your date to. "oh, you look so pretty nena. how was your date?"

"i-it was good," you tried to lie. alexia's eyes narrowed for a moment, but she dropped it.

"where is the boy? um, matthew, was it? i would like to meet him," alexia said. that was it, your entire facade came crashing down as you erupted into a fit of tears. alexia held you tightly in her arms, catching just enough to know exactly what to do.

"shh, come on, you shouldn't let that stupid boy ruin your night. did you get anything to eat in there?" you shook your head. "well then, i'll have frido pick up some of that pizza that you like so much and we can have ourselves a slumber party. i know it's hard to believe, but mapi knows a thing or two about being stood up."

"i would have thought she did the standing up," you muttered as alexia led you towards her car.

…

"the party has arrived!" mapi and lucy shouted as they entered alexia's apartment. the woman had never been so fortunate to have a penthouse before befriending the two defenders. she didn't understand their constant need to be rambunctous. frido had arrived about 5 minutes earlier, and with some coaxing, managed to convince you to eat a bit.

"you are so lucky that i love you enough to let these idiots stay," alexia said as she nudged your side. you smiled and wrapped your arms around her in a tight hug. the moment was sweet, and broken up as soon as mapi jumped onto the couch with the two of you. "get off of me, you're too heavy!"

"must be all that muscle," mapi said as she flexed. alexia tried pushing mapi off of her lap, but the woman was a bit too quick. she scrambled fully into your lap and pressed a kiss to your forehead. "you look very beautiful. this boy, matthias, he is the stupidest one in all of spain, maybe even europe. i'd beat him up, but his kind of stupid might rub off."

"thank you for the offer mapi," you laughed. she clapped her hands and cheered as you smiled. it definitely still stung a bit, but you found it very difficult to be upset with your teammates surrounding you.

several more of your teammates flooded into alexia's apartment, filling up the living room completely. if it was any other night, you would have thought it was a party. in a way, it sort of was a party thrown just to cheer you up after your date had stood you up. a party that alexia "no parties during the season" putellas had thrown for you in the middle of the season.

"hey kid, how are you feeling?" alexia asked as things started to die down a bit more. most of the team was laying around anywhere that they could, a handful of the girls having already gone to alexia's guest rooms to sleep.

"better, a lot better. thank you for doing this," you told her. alexia smiled as she reached her hand up for you to take. you did so, knowing that if you didn't, you'd be sharing the couch with bruna, pina, and cata. it wouldn't have been too bad if you didn't already know that pina kicked in her sleep, bruna clung to the closest person she could find like a koala, and cata was horridly restless.

"i am sorry that you got stood up tonight," alexia said as she walked you towards her room. you had slept over before, but this was the first time that you didn't have to bribe alexia to let you watch a movie as you tried to fall asleep. you could hear the opening song of one of your favorite romantic comedies playing on the tv as you entered the room.

"come on." frido patted the spot in the middle of the bed for you to lay down. you excitedly ran over and got comfortable in the spot offered to you. alexia moved a bit slower, but once she was close enough, offered her hand for you to hold as you curled up beside frido. you barely made it 10 minutes into the movie before you were practically dead to the world.

"it's easy to forget how little she is sometimes," alexia said quietly as she glanced down at you. "she looked so hurt earlier, i didn't know what to do."

"you did the right thing, ale. look at her, she had a great night all things considered. this could happen again, and if it does, she'll know to lean on us for support. she wants to be so much like you that it hurts her," frido said. alexia knew that the swedish woman had a point. everybody could see the little things that you tried picking up from alexia since you had joined barcelona. it was flattering, but alexia thought that you'd be better off if you were just yourself in the long run.

[x0llaz]

From the start ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

Anton x fem!reader

Wc:4644

friends to lovers, angst, eventual fluff, mutual pining, Anton is kinda stupid whoops

synopsis: after years of loving her best friend, YN just can’t take another heartbreak from him. Anton soon realizes that he feels more for his friend than he initially thought. ౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆

There was something so heart pounding about falling for your best friend. The moment you feel the butterflies, you know you’re in for trouble. Reading into the smallest actions, wondering what everything means. 

But there’s something so heartbreaking when they don’t feel the same. 

YN met Anton when she was eight. They were playing at the same playground, and YN had gotten her stuffed cat stolen by some older kids. Naturally, the girl Cried. Maybe ten minutes later, someone tapped on her shoulder. She looked up, big eyes glossy and red with tears, and saw a boy standing above her, holding her plushie. She looked up at him, lip quivering, taking her plushie. He had gotten it back for her. She got to her feet and threw her arms around the boy, sobbing out her thanks as she hugged him tightly. 

From that day forward, the two were inseparable, two best friends, their bond went beyond the playground and a plushie. The two balanced each other out, Anton’s quiet nature paired with YN’s energy made the two the perfect pair. They were each other’s missing half. 

They grew up together, having playdates and sleepovers, getting to know the other through their years together. They went through their firsts together, played at recess together everyday and walked home together after each day of school. The two were as close as they could be, joined at the hip since that fateful day at the playground.

At some point, YN’s feelings grew as both of them grew up. She realized how happy she was when anton was around, how her cheeks would warm when he’d look her way, how handsome he looked when he wasn’t even trying. 

YN realized she liked anton in 7th Grade. Middle school hormones running wild, she still liked him. So when she was in eighth grade, she told him. 

“Anton,” she took in a breath. “I like you, a lot,” She stuttered but Continued. “I don’t want to lose what we have, but I can’t pretend I don’t feel anything for you,” 

And that same day, YN experienced her first Heartbreak. 

“I don;t feel the same, I’m sorry.” He apologized and watched his friend look down. “But I do care about you. We can still be friends, right?”

YN gulped back tears that threatened to spill and agreed, letting Anton walk her home before letting her tears fall. She said a brief goodbye, and practically rushed up the stairs into her room, sobbing until her parents called her down for dinner. Regardless of what Anton wanted, she knew things would never be the same. But for his sake, she’d pretend to be okay.

It had been for years. 

Their friendship continued, and though YN tried letting her feelings go, she found she was still head over heels for her best friend. Yet he never felt the same, never looked her way. There were times she thought he may feel the same as she did, but just when her hopes got up, he shut them down.

When he had another girlfriend, or had his heart broken, he went to her. He’d hold her close when he needed comfort, let all his emotions go in her arms. But when he got over the heartbreak, and found a new girlfriend, he’d shut her out. Dry responses, rare hangouts, and walks home filled with silence. 

When he would finally hang out with her, he’d tell her how much he loved the girl he was seeing. Or he’d cry about hw heartbroken he was that his relationship ended. She was the one he went to, the one he trusted enough to be vulnerable with. 

But YN didn’t know how many more girls she could hear about without crying. How many more times could she listen to Anton profess his love for another girl he’d break up with in a couple months? How many more of his heartbreaks could she listen to him lament. 

One day, the two of them were sitting in Anton’s room, YN laying back on his pillows while Anton sat on the foot of his bed, texting someone. They’d been sitting in silence for a good ten minutes. YN was beginning to feel fed up, being invited over to sit in silence. 

“Did you invite me over just to text your girlfriend the whole time?” YN asked. She hadn’t been around Anton much since he made it official with his new girlfriend, wanting to respect their relationship. But Anton insisted he come over this weekend, saying he wanted to spend time with her.

Anton blinked and then scooted to lay next to her. He wrapped his arms around her, hands resting on the skin of her waist while his head laid on her chest. YN hated how much comfort she got from this. She knew he shouldn’t be that close. 

“Toni, you can’t do this. You have a girlfriend,” she reminded him, ruffling his hair lightly. 

Anton hummed for a moment. “We broke up,” he mumbled, arms tight around her waist, breathing in deeply. 

There it was. YN went still. SHe moved her hand from his hair, sighing as she laid flat on his bed, going silent in response to what Anton just said. 

“What’s wrong?” anton asked, letting go of her and propping himself up to look at her. He saw her expression, unreadable, foreign to anything he’d seen from her before. He usually could read YN like a book, she was his best friend, he could tell what she was thinking. But at that moment, he was lost. 

“Nothing,” YN sighed and sat up, pushing her hair out of her face. She didn’t look at him, fiddling with the hem of her shirt instead. 

“Doesn’t seem like nothing,” Anton pressed. “Come on, just tell me,” 

Yn turned to him, debating her words. Though part other wanted to salvage the relationship she knew would probably end eventually, the stronger part wanted to finally say her mind.

“How many times are you going to come to me about your heartbreaks?” she asked, voice quiet. 

Anton looked at her, confused. “What do you mean?” he tilted his head, not knowing where this was suddenly coming from. 

“I mean that’s all I’ve been good for,” she sighed. “You get a new girlfriend you ignore me for a few months until you break up and need someone to cry to. You just come around when you need comfort,” 

“No, I don’t,” Anton sat up. “It’s not like that, YN,” 

“Then what is it like?” she asked. “You only come around when you need me to comfort you, or when you find another girl, and you just have to tell me about how much you like her and how you just get butterflies thinking about her!” 

“As my best friend, you should be happy for me! You should listen to my feelings, you should be there when I need you!” Anton scoffed, feeling defensive of his actions. There was no way she could be serious. 

“Yeah and as someone who’s been in love with you since seventh grade, I don’t want to hear you talk about how much you love another girl, how you found your new soulmate, blah blah blah. I don’t want to hear you talk about how much your heart hurts when you broke mine!”

There was silence. YN didn’t register her words until anton spoke. 

“You’re in love with me?” he asked and YN stood up, needing to leave. 

“I’m gonna go home,” SHe muttered stumbling a bit as she grabbed her hoodie, quickly putting it on. 

“YN, no, wait, let’s talk, please,” Anton got up, walking towards the door to stop her from leaving. 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” YN muttered, voice heavy, tears falling before she could stop them. “Please get out of my way, anton,” she didn’t dare look up at him. 

“No, yn please, talk to me-” he felt her push past him, hurrying downstairs to get her shows on. He followed hopelessly. “Please, come on, just talk to me!” 

He heard the slam shut, and ran to the window, watching as his best friend stormed away. 

He texted her for the whole week after, blowing up her phone with texts asking to please talk, missed calls and voicemails of him saying he missed her and wanted to talk things out. He even emailed her a few times for good measure, but got no response. 

A week later she finally answered his texts. They agreed to meet at a park- the park they first met at. Anton was nervous. What would he say to her? What would she say to him? How were they going to recover from this?

She sat on the swingset, hair loose around her shoulders, feet dragging against the mulch. He called her name as he approached, and watched as she looked up at him. She stood up, and he could tell the breath she took in was shaky. 

“I’m sorry for getting upset,” she said first. “I was frustrated.” her voice was soft, almost inaudible. 

“I’m sorry for making you feel like you weren’t important to me. It was shitty for me to use you.” Anton admitted. “I want you to know, I really value our friendship, you mean the world to me,” he gave her a gentle smile.

YN felt her heart shatter, his words crumbling the little hope she had left. There was silence between them, anton looked down at her. YN knew what was about to happen. 

“Just get it over with,” she looked past him, breathing deeply. 

Anton bit his lip. “I’m sorry, I just… don’t feel that for you,” he told her. “But I want us to be friends- i’ll be better I swear, nothing will change between us-”

“No.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” YN had tears in her eyes. “I tried, anton, I really tried, but I just can’t,”

Anton shook his head softly. “No, YN, please,” He took her hands in his, kneeling down to try and get her to look at him. “Don’t do this, you’re my best friend,”

YN pulled her hands away, shaking her head. “It’s not fair to either of us,” she wiped her tears with her sleeve. “I’m sorry-“

Anton grabbed her arm to stop her from leaving again. He wrapped his arms around her, not wanting to let her go.

“Please YN we can figure it out, don’t-“

“Let go of me Anton,” she said through her tears. 

He pulled away slightly, holding her face in his palms, eyes pleading her to stay. She brought up her shaky hands and pulled his away. 

“Let me go, Anton,” her tears ran down her cheeks, stepping back away from Anton before turning around, and went away, not looking back as Anton stood there, tears in his eyes, waiting for her to come back. 

A month passed and Anton held onto the hope his best friend would come back. In the halls he’d wait near her locker, trail behind her in hopes she’d turn around and see him. But she never did. 

She was absent for a week after their last meeting. When she came back, Anton felt like she never saw him. She looked past him when he was nearby while his eyes would linger on her. She’d ignore his many texts and calls. When he’d try and talk to her after class, she’d just brush past him before he could get a word in. It was like she forgot him. 

One day, he saw her with seunghan, walking down the halls happily. He watched her laugh at his jokes, and saw the bright smile on her face that he hadn’t seen in what felt like forever. The smile he would do anything to see again. The smile she used to give him everyday, that was now being made at seunghan and not him. He felt something pang inside him. 

He felt… jealous? There was no way he was jealous. Maybe a little. Maybe he just missed her. That could justify why he felt this way, why he wanted so desperately to whisk her away and hold her close once more, bring her back to him, be the girl he always knew. 

Anton sat with his friends, poking at his food while staring across the room at YN, who was eating with seunghan, laughing like they used to when they were together. His friends noticed his demeanor, how his gaze was fixed across the room at YN, how his brows furrowed more and more as she and seunghan got closer. 

“Anton,” Sohee called his name and snapped Anton out of his daze. He looked over at the older boy. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Anton looked down. “Just thinking” his gaze went back up to YN, looking happier than she looked in a while. Anton hated it. 

Probably the worst thing about this was how close the two lived. They grew up in the same neighborhood, lived a few blocks away. Anton would always walk YN home, sometimes coming inside for a snack or staying for dinner. Now they always walked an awkward distance apart, silence thick between them.

His friends went home with him, they agreed to play some video games before, and just wanted to hang out with Anton, who had seemed out of it for a long while. Anton had one earbud in, listening to his friends ramble. He noticed YN wasn’t in front of him as usual, and began wondering where she was. 

Anton realized how his friends went quiet, and then heard her laugh. The sweet laugh he loved so much. He turned, and saw her walking with seunghan, who carried her bag for her. He’d normally look away, resign to their broken friendship, but this time he couldn’t, not bothering to hide his gaze as she passed. 

He felt it again. That feeling in his chest boiling up as she and seunghan walked ahead of him and his group. He felt his jaw tighten, clenching his teeth together and watched as Seunghan walked YN to her door, ruffling her hair lightly before bidding her goodbye. 

When they got to his house, Anton slumped onto the couch, resting against the cushions, not knowing what to do with this odd feeling. Even as his friends began playing their games, relaxing and having fun, anton felt his heart pang against his chest, a pain erupting from the part of him that couldn’t let YN go. 

“Anton?”

“Yeah?”

“You look pretty out of it. You okay?” Wonbin asked, head hanging off the couch.

There was a beat of silence before anton answered. 

“I don’t like that seunghan guy,” anton sighed. He didn’t know why, he had no reasonable reason. 

“Why? He’s actually really nice,” sohee told him, confused why anton didn’t like the boy.

“I just get a bad vibe from him,” anton explained, not noticing the looks his friends gave each other. They knew his reasoning was bullshit, so it was time they point it out to him. 

“Or Do you just not like that he’s been hanging out with YN a lot?” Sohee asked, and watched as anton’s ears grew red, jaw dropping slightly, trying to laugh off the accusation. 

“What? No! Maybe a little but-” he paused, putting his head in his palms as he sighed. “Why did she have to leave me?” 

“It wasn’t good for her to stay,” Sohee shrugged. “She was valid in her feelings, you know,” 

“Yeah, but i wanted to fix things. We shouldn’t have ended things like that, we should still be friends,” Anton thought of the last time they spoke, how she left before he could beg her to stay. 

“I think you’ll just need to let go,” Wonbin suggested gently. 

“I don’t want to let go,” Anton shook his head like a petulant child. “SHe’s my best friend, i can’t lose her, I can’t let her go,” 

“Anton-”

“And now there’s another guy with her, who’s in the place I used to be. He’s with my best friend, laughing and getting close with MY YN, while i’m here wishing she’d come back!” anton was flustered as he spoke, his friends coming to a realization he hadn’t come to himself. 

“Anton, do you like-like YN?” sungchan asked and Anton furrowed his brows.

“No! I’m just… upset because she’s my best friend and now I've been replaced with some guy!” he tried to explain, cheeks getting slightly pink at the thought. “Oh you’re in love with her!” Sohee laughed, and Anton shook his head frantically. 

“No I’m not! If I was, we wouldn’t be having this problem. I’m just upset, okay?” He got defensive, trying to brush off Sohee’s words. 

“No, Anton, you really like her. And you’re jealous that she moved on and you’re still hung up on her,” Sohee raised his eyebrows, trying to convince Anton of his own feelings. 

“Oh my god, no, I'm not in love with her! Of course I’m upset about this, I’ve known her for ten years. It’s nothing more than that, so drop it!” Anton raised his voice more than intended. Sohee only smirked at the younger. 

“Okay anton, just let me know when you figure it out,” he sighed. 

The rest of their visit, Anton sat in silence, mulling over everything in his mind. When his friends left, he went to his room to stare up at the ceiling. He replayed every word Sohee said. He remembered YN’s words when she ended their friendship. His head began spinning. 

He remembered the day they met, her big eyes looking up at him, how he ignored the butterflies when she threw her arms around him, how he savored the scent of her shampoo. That was the first time he felt it, the first time something in his heart panged. 

He remembered the day she first confessed, how her cheeks got pink and voice shook a bit. He always tried to ignore how his mind raced with the idea of them being more than friends. Anton never would admit to himself how he wanted to say yes, to be her lame middle school boyfriend. 

He remembered her most recent confession, how his heart panged once more. She took him by surprise, made his head swirl with his past childish thoughts how after she left he weighed all possible answers, everything he could say to make her stay. 

He thought about his words the last time they spoke, how he was so sure he felt nothing romantic for his best friend, though now his resolve was breaking. 

He remembered all the times she’d hold him, how warm her embrace was, and how she’d play with his hair while he breathed her in. he remembered the times they’d stay up too late laughing about stupid things, how she’d do his skincare and make him wear a fluffy hello kitty headband to match hers. He remembered how pretty she looked all the time, how there would eb times he genuinely couldn’t think straight when she was with him.

Then it hit him. Sohee was right, Anton was jealous, because the girl he denied his love for was now gone, and with another man. He now let himself admit what he’d been suppressing, what he was so scared would ruin their friendship. He had been in love with YN since they were little kids, since the moment she hugged him. 

He would do anything to get her back. 

The next week, anton tried everything to get her back. He would wait by her locker, sat next to her in classes, bought her chocolate milk and left it on her lunch table with a note on it. 

Each time, she’d ignore his advances. Seunghan would come to her locker with her, reaching for what she needed before handing it over to her, YN never had to look at him. In class she’d scoot further away from anton and crumple up the notes he’d slide over to her, and ignore when he’d poke her arm. When he left chocolate milk for her, she’d rip off the note, crumple it up and throw it away, and give the drink to another friend. 

Anton still refused to give up. He knew he’d have to step it up. 

The rain pounded against the window, YN sat on her bed, listening to the storm outside. She was coming to peace with what was going on, though she couldn’t deny her heart still pounded when she thought about her time with Anton. She did her best to ignore the boy who stole her heart, but it got increasingly difficult when he was annoyingly persistent. 

She heard a light knock at her door and furrowed her brows, standing up and opening the door to see who it was. There he stood, tall figure looking down at her, hair soaked from rain, and a bouquet of flowers in his hands. She stood in silence, trying to process the sight in front of her. 

“What are you doing here?” She asked, looking up at him while trying to keep her 

emotions in order.

“I uh, wanted to talk,” He cleared his throat, pushing the bouquet forward a little more. 

YN just sighed. “What part of not wanting to talk do you not get?” she asked, propping the door open a bit more, walking back in and grabbing a towel. Anton took this as a silent affirmation to walk in. 

He took the towel and dried off his hair, sitting down on the bed while YN sat on her desk, studying him. Her heart pounded as she looked at him, she tried to ignore it, push down how much she wanted to just throw her arms around him. She couldn’t, not after what they went through. She had to be strong. 

“Are you here to talk, or just sit on my bed in silence?” She asked, frowning a little. “If you’re not gonna say anything to me then just go home-” “I’m in love with you,” Anton blurted out.

YN went still. She felt her heart pounding even harder, felt the heat rush to her cheeks as she attempted to process his words. 

“What?”

“I’m in love with you, YN, and it’s driving me insane,” he sighed, looking up at her hopefully. 

She shook her head. “No,”

“No?”

“You don’t get to do that, you don’t get to pull the ‘i love you’ card. Not now, not after everything.” She looked down at the ground. 

Anton stood up from her bed. “I know,” he whispered, taking a step toward her. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you sooner, i shouldn’t have pushed you away,” 

YN didn’t respond and Anton took another step towards her. He pushed a strand of her hair away from her face, gently bringing his hand to tilt her head up to face him. He looked at her for a moment, fingers playing with her hair idly before speaking again. 

“I think I was scared,” He sighed. “I got caught up in the What-ifs of what would happen if something went wrong. I didn’t want to lose what we had, and I ended up losing you anyway. I realized I loved you too late. I never meant to hurt you, I swear,” 

YN folded her arms, moving her head out of his grip. “You can’t justify using me for your comfort, anton,” She reminded him, and Anton nodded. 

“I know, I was selfish, and wrong, and I’m so sorry,” He apologized once more, moving her cheek lightly to get her to look at him again. She slipped away from him, pushing his chest lightly as she went to sit on her bed. Anton followed, crouching down, eyes begging for her to look at him. “Let me make this right,” he gently held her hand. “I’ll do anything to get you back, please, don’t shut me out,” 

YN Scoffed a bit, trying to look away, but he brought her back to look at him once more, eyes pleading as they looked into hers. She sighed, shaking her head a bit. 

“How could I trust you?” Her voice shook. “How do I know I won’t regret letting you back in? How will I know you won’t break my heart again?” anton saw tears well in her eyes, and he moved to sit on the bed. He took her hands gently, moving so they’d face each other as they sat. 

“Because now I know I was wrong, and I won’t let that happen to us again,” He brushed his thumb against her knuckles gently. “I swear,” 

He didn’t get a response, and when YN looked down at her lap, he decided he’d let her. And he would just speak his mind. 

“I’m so in love with you,” he laughed a bit, and YN glanced up. “And it’s driving me crazy. I fucked up, and I can’t stop regretting what happened, I can’t stop wanting to make things right. I can’t stop wanting you,” 

YN looked at him, resolve slowly breaking as his eyes stared into hers. Every emotion she tried to keep down was rising through her system. She felt warm, unable to ignore the effect anton had on her, his words being all she ever wanted to hear him say. There was silence between them, something unspoken. 

She felt him brush her hair behind her ear and brought in a quiet breath, watching as he gazed softly at her. He began to lean towards her, slowly, giving her the time to push him away. But she stayed still. So he continued. Their noses brushed against each other, lightly grazing each others skin as YN let out the breath she was holding in. Then she felt his lips press against hers, soft, gentle, as if anything more could break them. 

Their kiss was quick, both of them pulling away to take in breaths through their shock. When Anton saw YN’s expression, he wasted no time, pulling her back in closer. YN’s hands rested on his chest as Anton deepen the kiss, shifting more towards her, pulling her in more and resting one hand on her waist, the other in her hair. YN pulled him in more, one arm resting around his neck as she kissed him, letting go of whatever was holding her back.

“Let me take you on a date,” He muttered between kisses, hands massaging her skin. “Let me try again,” 

“Okay,” YN agreed with a smile, feeling his lips trail across her skin, kissing her jaw too. “But we should still talk more about-” her thoughts trailed off as they continued kissing. 

Anton grinned. “Tomorrow,” he just wanted to enjoy the moment. And to kiss her more. “I tried to be all romantic, you know,” he pressed a kiss to her neck. “My mom even helped me pick out flowers,” he moved up to her lips. “I was prepared to get on my knees and beg,”

YN pulled away, laughing at the thought of the tall boy on his knees begging for forgiveness. She looked at him, his shoulders heaving, trying to catch his breath, hair messy. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him to lay on her bed with her, anton quickly moved his arms around her, resting his cheek on her head. 

“You should stay,” YN requested. “I missed you more than I let on,” 

“Oh thank god,” Anton grinned. “I was worried you actually hated my guts,” 

“I tried my hardest,” she smiled up at him. 

The two Spent their time together snuggled up close, anton not willing to let her go further than an arms length away. They fell into a peaceful sleep, together at last, no regrets to keep them awake any longer.  ౨ৎ

the next week, they walked around school together, holding hands and smiling, back to a new normal. Anton didn’t have to tell his friends anything, they figured it out. sohee and seunghan watched them from their table, laughing about everything. Unbeknownst to Anton and YN, they had a little bet that they’d be back together. Sohee actually never thought it would happen, but seunghan knew better.

“Ten dollars,” seunghan held out his hand.

“yeah yeah, whatever,” sohee grumbled defeated. Why did he have to be so good at using common sense?

౨ৎ LETS GOOOO ANTON ONESHOT!!! Lmk if u wanna be added to my new taglist!!! You’ll get to know all I do going forward!!

taglist: @oftenjisung , @vhuteryh , @skzhoe4life , @cheederzchez

[ilguna]

☼ one true love (Peeta Mellark) ☼

summary; to everyone else, you're nothing but a rebound to Peeta. to Peeta, you are his one true love.

warnings; swearing, death mention.

wc; 3k

notes; no katniss slander, but there is gale slander ;)

–

The nerves are eating you from the inside out. One minute you think you’re going to be sick all over the concrete floor, so you’re in the bathroom hanging your head over the toilet. The next minute, you’re back on your feet, pacing back and forth in front of the door. You can’t sit still anymore, it’s not an option.

What are you supposed to say to him? It’s only a matter of time before he lands in District Thirteen with the other captured victors. Will he even want to see you? Is Katniss going to be the first person he asks for? You saw him on the television a few days ago, he was talking about her, worried about her wellbeing.

The last time you saw each other was before the Quarter Quell reaping. It was brief, because he needed to go on stage, and you were late traveling from your neighborhood to get to the Justice Building. All he did was kiss you, and then he was gone.

You think he was expecting to say goodbye, like the Peacekeepers usually allow, but when you tried to go inside, they told you that the rules changed. And before you could think to start running to the train station, they told you that there was no farewell there, either. That was it.

You couldn’t breathe, you were sure that would be the last time you’d ever see him, and it was cut short because you couldn’t leave the house a couple minutes earlier. But you were so, so mad at him for the months leading up to the reaping. It was a nightmare being with him.

His time was consumed with training, he was constantly talking about volunteering over Haymitch if the opportunity presented itself. He wouldn’t listen to a single thing you said. You hardly spent time with him, and when you did, you would’ve been happier by yourself. He became a new person, one you didn’t recognize, one that didn’t seem to like the idea of you half the time.

You almost didn’t want to go to the reaping. You knew what was to come, what was the point of showing up, besides to avoid getting in trouble with the Peacekeepers? And then all he could do was kiss you, because he was so pressed for time. He didn’t say anything to you. 

Suddenly, you turned the anger onto yourself, because you couldn’t believe you were so stupid to miss such a vital moment with him. 

You tried to make up for it. Even though the week leading up to the Quell was chaotic in District Twelve, as much as you were afraid to leave your house to see the mandatory viewings, you still did. You saw him everyday in the Square, and each time you got your heart broken because it was like it was never an act between him and Katniss.

You thought it was bad enough the first time around, because he didn’t know your feelings yet, and he was putting on this real show for the Capitol, but it’s so much worse, knowing that he feels the same way for you.

When you and Peeta had started talking again after he won the Hunger Games, your parents warned you that it would end up being a mistake. They knew how you felt about him before he was reaped, and how it wouldn’t change before he came back—if he came back. Even if he was kissing Katniss Everdeen in front of Panem. 

They were right about your feelings, of course. You and Peeta were close friends for years. You had classes together in school, and you’d hang out in the bakery every day after school. You’d sit there for hours, doing your homework, while also watching him pipe designs onto cakes and cookies for those who could afford to buy it.

You didn’t think he noticed the way you’d watch him throughout the day. The way his eyes would light up when talking about something he liked. Or maybe a new technique he discovered when making designs on cakes. How carefree he looked when doodling on his papers. The amount of times there would be a mini portrait of you in the corner of them.

While your whole day was centered around him, he had other things on his mind, like Katniss. Well, that’s how you felt when he announced his love for her in the interview. And then he came back with her, breaking the rules of the Hunger Games, completely enamoured with her. When you hadn’t gone to visit him in a whole two weeks after, he showed up at your door to see you, to make sure that you were okay. You tried to shrug him off, but he didn’t take that as an answer.

You thought that if you held him at arms-length, that it would be a distance between you two. If you’re not close, then there would be no point in keeping you around. After all, he does have other friends—other people he can surround himself with.

Fortunately for you, it didn’t work. You honestly should’ve known that it wouldn’t, because out of all the friends you’ve had since growing up, Peeta has by far been the most loyal out of them. He’s still here, and he’s seen you go through the motions. That’s why he figured out that he hurt you in some way while he was gone. 

He refused to leave you alone, he later told you that you were one of his last friendships he had since he won. Everyone else wasn’t seeing him the same way you did. While you saw him as human, and virtually the same person you had before he left, others saw him as the victim.

You remember being so flustered admitting your feelings to him. The hot feeling in your face, the tears that threatened to take over your eyes. The way your throat clogged, and the words croaked out. You didn’t even want to look him in the eyes, afraid to see his reaction, but it’s like you couldn’t look away. You needed to see the raw reaction in case he lied to you.

Peeta smiled.

It took a lot of explaining from him to get you to see how he was thinking after he was reaped. He needed help from sponsors, which meant that he had to play the Capitol in some way. And while what he said to Caesar in the interview wasn’t completely false, it wasn’t true either. He wasn’t settled on Katniss, because he knew if he won, he had someone better at home; you.

He wasn’t anticipating coming back with her. If he’d known, he would’ve played it differently. Katniss was completely indifferent to him, and he realized that after she looked for him once the announcement was made. As for you, he knew that if you were there with him, you wouldn’t have left his side, not even for a second.

He was happy you felt the same way he did, but he warned you that if you two started seeing each other more seriously, and possibly started dating, a lot of people would be unhappy. And at the end of the day, you could be one of those people. He wanted a relationship as much as you did, but the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you in the process.

Since that day, he tried to do everything he could to keep you, while also keeping the peace with the Capitol, even if they didn’t know what was happening between the two of you. There was a lecture from Haymitch—a man that you thought you’d never have to meet in your life—telling you that you’d have to be extremely careful to keep it from the Peacekeepers.

The Victory Tour was rough, considering he did a complete one-eighty with Katniss for the cameras. It got worse when you watched him propose to her in the Capitol. He didn’t tell you that this was planned, and he promised to keep you up to date if he could. You were nauseated for the rest of the week, really afraid that you’d done it to yourself.

You were the first person he came to see when he got back from the tour. From the moment you opened the door, it was a string of apologies, and a tight hug, reassuring you that it's not what he wanted. Him and Katniss were in trouble, and they were trying to do damage control. 

You watched all the mandatory viewings of Katniss trying on her dresses, the ones the Capitol liked the most, over the others. That was fine, it was easier to stomach, knowing that Katniss felt like she was playing dress-up for them. What wasn’t okay, was what happened next.

You were sitting with Peeta on the couch the night the Quarter Quell was announced. You two thought it was just another dress preview, and the rest of the night, you two were supposed to hang out. Then Snow said all the existing victors would be going back into the pool.

You remember seeing the color drain from his face, and panic seized his body. You opened your mouth to speak, but he was already excusing himself. He needed to talk to Haymitch, and it was a fairly long walk from your house to Victor’s Village. He pressed a quick kiss to your lips, and then he was gone. And you were left sitting in your living room, watching the Capitol react to the same news you’d just heard, wondering if they knew the effect this would cause.

It’s been a downward spiral since that day. You watched him go through that first week in the Capitol again, and it ended with him announcing Katniss’ fake pregnancy. You were inconsolable, watching him survive the cornucopia, just to almost die a few hours later because of a forcefield.

It was hard to swallow, but it was nothing compared to the fact that District Twelve was bombed on the third day. You don’t know how Gale knew where you lived, or why he chose you to save. 

You knew of Gale in high school, but didn’t think anything of him. He was just another surviving teenager, trying to get through with his head down and make it out of the reaping alive. You learned more about him when he was presented as Katniss’ cousin to Panem to keep him from being seen as a threat against Peeta. As for you, Peeta was able to claim that you were nothing but a loyal friend.

You and Gale only met in passing.

Even though Gale knew what you actually meant to Peeta, he still left his family out of the hundreds that were saved. They were just across the street from Katniss’ family, and he still let them get killed. While he traveled across the district to tell you that a hovercraft was coming because the district was going to be bombed by the Capitol.

You’re grateful you’re alive, and so is your family, but you will never forgive him for doing something so cruel. 

You feel the nausea rising in your stomach again, as you wipe your hands down your grey uniform to rid them of the collecting sweat. You’re sweeping your hair into one hand, really sure that you’re going to throw up this time, when the door to your dormitory opens.

You stop in your steps, turning to see who it is. You asked your parents to stay out for a little bit, because you really needed some time to think to yourself. You were almost put in the same room as Katniss and Finnick, so that you’d be able to receive the news of their arrival at the same time as them. Haymitch didn’t think it was appropriate, that’s why you were casted out, but said you’d be updated as soon as they landed.

Despite the fact that you and Peeta are very much dating, and he’s made it explicitly clear that he and Katniss are nothing but an act, you are seen as less than she is. In fact, the word they like to put on you is ‘rebound’. You’re Peeta’s rebound, because he couldn’t get Katniss.

You’ve tried to be patient with District Thirteen’s command, but they’re running it thin.

Haymitch Abernathy stands in your doorway, a grave look on his face. You don’t think he approves of you and Peeta, even though he tried his best to convince you two that he didn’t care what happened, as long as President Snow didn’t find out. 

“Peeta’s here.” He says.

“Oh, finally.” You breathe, letting go of your hair as you start toward the door, “Is he in the hospital?”

“(Y/n), stop.” Haymitch blocks the path. “Peeta’s not in the right state of mind. It’s going to be upsetting to see.”

“That’s fine.” You brush him off, “Can we go?”

“You don’t understand.” He sighs, “He tried to kill Katniss.”

You stare at him for a few seconds, while your brain tries to push through this information. He was just concerned about her not too long ago, and now he’s trying to kill her? 

You shake your head, “I want to see him, Haymitch.” 

He doesn’t like your persistence, but he leads the way to the hospital, anyway. The two of you move through the hallway, into the elevator, out, and through another series of hallways. You can hear the commotion from down the hallway, the shouting coming from the other side of the hospital doors.

Once you walk through them, you’re met with chaos. You stop for a second at the doors, wondering if it’s like this all the time in here, but when you realize that Haymitch is still moving, you get right back to following. You catch sight of Finnick with a girl, and presumably another victor strapped down with a shaved head, rolling her eyes at the nurse.

The further back you go, the calmer it gets. You can feel the anxiety building in your stomach the moment you step foot into a tense room that holds a few vaguely familiar faces. You know Plutarch Heavensbee, he was a former Gamemaker. You’ve talked to him a few times. And then there’s Beetee Latier, one of the victors that was inside of the arena. And among them are a few other people that you don’t recognize.

No one pays attention to you, the conversation lands on Haymitch as soon as they see him. You stand there for a few minutes, nerves settling slowly while the anger begins to rise.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself. “I want to see him.”

There are a few stunned faces as eyes land on you. As if you somehow just materialized out of the air, and they didn’t see you when you walked into the room behind Haymitch.

“That might not be a good idea.” A man says, looking over you. 

“You think that matters to me?” Your body’s trembling. He’s got to be on the other side of the door, the one that they’re blocking. You’re so close to him.

“Who are you?” He asks.

“If you all stopped smothering me, then you’d know that I’m his girlfriend.” You snap, “Not Katniss, me.”

Plutarch tilts his head, “Boggs has nothing to do with your current predicament, (Y/n). I’m going to give you access to see him, but you’ll return immediately if you see him getting violent, do you understand?”

You ignore his comment, deciding to keep the peace. “Yes.”

Several people move at once. While Beetee wheels himself across the room to press a button on the wall, which makes the wall to your left turn into a window, allowing you to see a preview of Peeta’s state. Boggs walks over to the door that you were looking at, pushing a key into the lock and turning it.

You don’t move from where you stand, lips parted as you let out a gasp at the sight of Peeta, strapped to a bed to keep from hurting himself and others. He’s lost all the muscle that took months for him to build up before going into the arena. He’s covered in black and blue bruises, there’s cuts across his skin.

You can feel the tears build in your eyes.

Peeta’s head lolls to the side at the sound of the key in the lock. He can’t even keep his eyes open.

“We gave him a sedative after he went after Katniss.” Haymitch explains, “He’s coming off of it.”

You start moving to the door. Boggs tries to stop you, maybe to give you some bullshit rules to follow while you’re inside, but you’ve already shoved him aside and forced yourself through the door before he can even say your name. 

Peeta’s eyes widen at the noise you cause coming through the door, jerking aggressively to see exactly who it is that’s entering the room. It takes him a second of looking you over, up and down, to realize it’s you. He relaxes into the bed, no longer pulling against the restraints, face smoothing over.

“(Y/n)...” He trails.

You can feel your teeth chattering, tears overflowing your eyes, “Peeta.”

“You’re here.” He breathes, “You’re okay?”

“I’m okay.” You sob, trying to wipe the tears away. You grab his hand, squeezing tightly, feeling another round of tears hit you when he holds on, refusing to let go. 

You lean over the railing, your other hand outstretched to touch his face, where the bruises lie on his sunken cheeks. The back of your fingers brush against his skin. He takes in a breath, eyes fluttering shut while he leans into your touch.

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, until he slowly opens his eyes, “I missed you.”

“I’m never leaving you again.” You tell him, “I promise.”

[millerscoffee]

reader lives in jackson and is friends with tommy, so she sees joel relatively frequently, and they just DONT get along. the reader is young and she’s got a sharp tongue and cheek that irritates the shit out of joel, who shoots back just as much condescending insults. they literally can’t be in a room without getting into it. however, the reader does it for his attention (she’s got daddy issues), and joel doesn’t catch onto this until she’s knocking on his door at midnight because she can’t sleep and she needs him and she doesn’t know how to admit it. he pulls her in the house and absolute filth ensues. he makes her blow him and then they fuck. joel is smug and condescending the whole time, and reader just becomes a ragdoll. Size kink, dirty talk, daddy kink, creampie/breeding, the works PLEASE

you got it, anon! ✨ this was requested on @atticrissfinch's page too, go check it out! i love how the same request can elicit two different stories. i did my best not to read it before i finished this (it was as difficult as it sounds cos HOO BOI 😅🥵♡)

only daddy that'll walk the line

6.2k | joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+ MDNI

warning: big mean dom!joel™️ lmao, alcoholism (reader's dad, but also drunk!joel for a second - **this is not in the smutty scenes**), parental abuse (verbal, it is brief), smut, age difference (joel is 56, reader is 18-early 20s - your choice), size kink, dirty talk (joel's a talker more than his usual grunty self), name calling (bitch, brat, slut, etc.), light praise kink & like- two pet names, ✨ degrading language and acts ✨, edging, choking/gagging, hair pulling, creampie, breeding kink, daddy kink, spitting kink!!!, spanking, oral (m receiving), no prepping the reader, brat tamer!joel, bratty reader, if i missed anything lmk

summary: based in jackson, you have the unfortunate predicament of being friends with tommy miller and hating his brother, joel – and you have no problem in letting either of them know that! until one night you are brought to joel's doorstep.

A/N: this is my first request! thank you! huzzah!! hopefully it's to your liking, nonnie. he's big mean dom!joel™️ but with a conscience yknow?? enjoy ♡ i did proofread this, but i wrote it over the course of a couple weeks. i did my best! lol

"Dude, what's his fucking problem!?"  You roll into the dining hall in a huff.  Shuffling to your seat for dinner, you slam your tray down and Maria gives you a combined look of worry and irritation at peace being compromised.

"Who, honey?"  Tommy asks, handing you a glass of water with an entertained grin because he's positive he knows just who you're talking about.

He'd seen the two of you go at each other's throats earlier in the day when you were trying to get by him on your way out the door.  His back was to you, and he all but ignored your request to get out of the way.  Causing you to shove past him, which ensued an argument between the two of you.  Which led you to both of you gunning each other with your words until you both left in a bad mood.

Joel had his back to you, his frame fully in the doorway as he spoke with a woman in town.  It started off slow: a few clearings of your throat, a slight nudge of his back.  No avail.

"Excuse me," you shouted, pushing at him again before he finally turned around quickly with his jaw ticked.

"Do you have any manners, Christ."  He said dry and muttered under his breath, but the lady made room for you and you nodded politely in her direction.

"Maybe if you weren't so fucking old, you could've heard me!"

"And watch your fuckin' mouth."

Joel turned his back to you, not giving you a moment to retort.  Conversation over. 

"This fucker," when you look up, you see Joel coming towards the table.  The sight of him gives you a set of shivers you can't explain.  Not complete disgust, but certainly not excitement.

"You really oughta keep better company," Joel tells his brother, sitting down beside him, he frames his entire body towards Tommy so he's sitting in a way to make you feel ignored.

"I'm right here, you know."  Your head is moving so you're in the line of his vision.

"Don't remind me.  Listen, this is a family dinner.  Go find your own."

A slap in the face would've hurt less.  Before Tommy or Maria had the chance to come to your defences – both of their mouths open ready to take up for you – you stood up, shoving your tray over to Joel.  So loud, other people turn their gaze to the four of you.

"Fuckin– eat up, then."

As you storm off to your house, you hear Tommy scold his older brother but you don't look back.

---

The next morning, your father wakes you up to the sound of his own yelling for you to come downstairs.  You'd been helping out Maria and Tommy to get your own place, or at least a shared one with people your age and to hear your dad's voice; whiskey-soaked and cruel, makes your stomach churn.

After slipping on your clothes for the day, you make it to the kitchen where he's sitting at the table and reeking from alcohol even from where you're standing.

"Didn't you hear me call you?"  His words were slurred and angry.

"Yes, I'm sorry."  It's such a difference from how you talk to other people, talk to Joel, for example.  Maybe because he's the last person you spoke to, but he's the first one who pops into your head during this interaction.  You sound meek, scared to say something wrong.  A stark difference from how you speak to Joel – abandoning all worries of punishment.  Almost like you wanted that from him.

"Fuckinbetterbe – hiccup – breakfast.  Now."  Your dad all but snaps his fingers and rage creeps up the back of your throat, biting your tongue so hard you break the surface layer.  A slight streak of blood coats your mouth, but you do as you're told.

This morning is kinder than others.  Your dad did not say thank you for the pancakes, you didn't get hit or debased too much.  You consider it a win.  Once you leave your house as soon as you can, Joel's chest hits your face as soon as you turn the corner.  The milliseconds seem long when you're met with the warmth and solidity of his chest, the scent of cedar and... whiskey?  It seemed too early, even for him, to be drinking and you shake off the unreasonable rationale that he should be treated differently than your father for the same behaviour.

You ignore the similarities of him and your father all together, actually.

"Watch where you're goin'," Joel's brows are knit together, which is normal for him, but you've never been this close to see his lips from this angle above you.  You almost say something out of the ordinary for the two of you, but you reel it in quickly.

"You're one to fuckin' talk.  Morning coffee smells a lot like alcohol.  Maybe I should tell Tommy about your habits."

"Does it ever hurt your head bein' a bitch all the time?"

"Not as bad as that hangover will be around noon.  Move."

You push past the large build in front of you with a clenched jaw, unable to be around him a second longer.  "Fuck you, Joel," you mutter for good measure on your way to Tommy and Maria's.

They'd given you safety on days when it seemed scarce, and showing up felt appropriate.  You were a little closer with Tommy than Maria.  He was able to listen to you without being too judgy, and you needed that.  The lack of safety piece was a lot like how your day started off.  You walk around to the back where Tommy's working on a new hobby and you sit in front of him, letting out a big sigh.

"Y'daddy givin' you trouble again?"

Typically when Tommy asks about your father he says it like this, but today it catches you off guard.  Confusion twists your mind, but you nod distractedly.  "Yea, he was drunk this morning.  Your brother, too."

You slide that one in fast.

Tommy fists through his hair, letting out a heavy exhale.  "Shit.  We both got trouble this mornin', I guess."

"Seems like it."

You're unusually quiet, looking at the ground more than anything.  It bugs you that Joel and your father have a similar quality to them.  That they both are up reaching for the bottle, but for Joel it's not a common occurrence and that makes you worried – an emotion you don't have for him that often, if you're being honest.  You don't think about his experiences that often.  But this is the first time, really, you've even seen Joel drunk like that.  You remember Tommy mentioning that he'd given up the stuff since Sarah's passing when everyone was around a fire one night sharing stories.

As if the dots connect in real time, you look over to Tommy who looks worried sick.

"He'll figure it out,"  you reassure, chewing the inside of your cheek before heading out.  You call behind you, "I'll be around."

You've never really been good at the whole 'being there for someone' thing.

~~

Later on, you find yourself in the mess hall again for the night's dinner and you catch Maria, Tommy, Joel, and Ellie all together and it feels weird to sit with them.  They're all laughing, Joel looks sobered up.  And it seems that Tommy didn't bring up the conversation the two of you shared.  They look like a happy family and twists a knot in your throat and the proverbial knife at your side.

"Can I please spend the night at Tommy and Maria's?  Please?"  Ellie is looking over at Joel with the sweetest expression, you snicker to yourself at how menacing she actually was.  It seemed to do the trick, though.  Joel's eyes flicker over to you, and it feels like you're being caught for something.  The look is inculpatory without you doing anything.  As if to say you are witnessing something too personal, a side of him not meant for you.  "Yeah, sure," his response to Ellie sounds distant.

This gives you no choice but to walk up to the scene, to sit down beside Maria.  She gives you a welcoming grin and makes space for you.  "What'd I miss?"  You look over to Ellie who's excited to see you, but Joel?  Not so much.  His eyebrows narrow down his face, suddenly more quiet than usual, even for him.  You set your sights back on Ellie who's telling you all of the cool things she's gonna do at her Uncle Tommy's and you flash a smile that lets her know you're listening.  Or at least trying.  It's hard when Joel isn't even initiating the usual conflict with each other.  More arguing than speaking.  And the fact it wasn't happening was off.

"That sounds like a blast...," you trail off, your chin in your hands.

"If you're not gonna listen to her, don't ask her questions."  Joel barks, eyes now solemnly black in your direction.  It makes you scared and delighted at once.  Like he was back to normal.  Your normal.

"I was listening to her?"  You retort, and everyone's quiet now.  Awkwardness filling the air as the two of you battle it out.  "Maybe if you weren't so drunk all the time you'd know the differen–"  "Hey, now."  Tommy chimes in, giving you a stern look of disapproval and you feel bad.  Reflective.  Joel wasn't drunk all the time, and you knew exactly why he was this morning.

You exhale, "I'm sorry," you nod in the direction of everyone but Joel and stand up from your seat, "enjoy your family time."

On your way back to your house, you catch a glimpse of a group of people your age.  People you'd grown up with, but they didn't acknowledge you and it digs the wound closer in.  You truly felt alone.  Like nothing fit, and maybe you didn't belong in Jackson but it wasn't like there were many choices to go to.

---

More times than not you sneak into your room.  Not because you are past a type of curfew, you were an adult.  It was more, you didn't want your dad to know you were around.  Your door was locked when you climbed in through the window.

You got comfortable, spilling out of your clothes for the day and into your pajamas.  Cotton shorts and a loose tee.  Your breasts perky and nipples taut from the worn fabric.  A lot of the day was spent dealing with heavy subjects that you just wanted to let your mind escape.

Staring at the ceiling in your bed, your eyes become blurry in need of sleep.  Needing release.  Anything.

Your mind wanders to why Joel was so quiet with you when you sat down.  It wasn't like that was the first time the two of you had a shouting match in front of everyone, but this felt different.  You deduce it to Joel having an off day and let your mind wander somewhere else.

Or, at least you try.

Because when your hands explore your body under the blankets, Joel comes back to life in your thoughts.  You come back to the warmth of his chest when you ran into him this morning, the grunt that left him from impact.  What that would sound like against your ear.  Before you know it, you're shifting your thighs together, spreading the mess of your cunt.  A craving ignites your bloodstream.

It's slick between your legs when you sit up, and you're full of determination unbeknownst of where it's coming from.  The act itself is a little heady, but you have nothing to lose so why not?

Slipping on a pair of shoes and a jacket that covers your clothes, you turn your back to the window and scurry down until you're able to jump off onto the grass.  One step close to where you want to be.

Joel's house is across the street which makes it easy to get to, but aggravating when you want a sense of peace.  He's always around, shooting you a menacing stare when you're not down each other's throats but there's an ache you can't deny.  A compulsion.

You knock on his door twice before he swings it open almost like he saw you approach, but he doesn't tug you inside like you thought he was.  Doesn't make you get on your knees or fulfill any fantasy of being used.  Of... making him proud.

"What?"  His question is dry and a part of you is crushed. He isn't taking advantage of the way your legs look in your shorts right away.

"You're not the only one who had a bad fucking day," you start, but he doesn't give you a moment to push through the door because before you know it you're being pulled inside.  The sound of a slamming door somewhere behind you.  You're forced to look at him with his paw wrapped around your jaw, thumb tilting your chin up effortlessly.  It locks you in place.

"You came here.  Why?  Y'want me to fuck your bad day away?"

You gape is panicked, eyes wide now in this compromising position.  You can't think, you can't nod or say words.  You just stare.

"She's real fuckin' quiet now," Joel shoves you against the closed door, not letting an inch of space be wasted and he takes your wrist with his free hand, palming you over his hardening cock in his jeans.  "How about now.  You payin' close attention?"

You whimper, nodding softly as your fingers massage and rub, tug at anything you can through the fabric.

"Did I tell you y'could do that?"  His words make you pause, shivering at how truly empty your mind is in the moment.  Even in your inexperience you don't know you've ever felt so instantly timid.  Joel makes you fold at the first hint of misbehaviour.  You can't think of a thing to say.  Halfway don't know why you're here in the first place, and he's got you so wet from this it almost hurts.  Stickiness coats your thighs as you squeeze your legs together and you're sure it will be obvious even through your cotton shorts.

You shake your head, and he's sick of you not speaking to him.  Squeezes your face tighter, "Use your fucking words."

"No... no you didn't," you manage and you've never heard yourself sound so pathetic.

"I didn't, that's right.  You answer to me."  The snapping sound of his words causes your eyes to roll in annoyance.  He doesn't own you, he never fucking could.  The action makes his jaw tighten, his hand from your jaw in a grip that didn't hurt now is wrapped around your throat and although it's not tight, it certainly isn't loose.  "What the fuck was that?"

You're back to being silent, unable to do anything but take.

"Not asking again."

"I rolled my ey–"

"You rolled your eyes.  Roll your fuckin' eyes at me again, little girl.  You'll regret it."

A cool threat, you think.  Meaningless, even.  What possible reproach would he have anyway?

It's then you take in the house.  You'd been here once before to stay with Ellie.  It's dark, a single lamp upstairs.  All of this is background noise to the drone of your need prickling your youthful skin.  It's apparent, your age difference, when you're this close.  His rough fingers, wrinkles catching the moonlight peeking in through the windows.

"I–I'm sorry," you've been saying that a lot lately.

"Don't apologise to me.  Don't say sorry when I know you're not."  His thumb moves from your chin to your lips, thumbing over just how pliable and soft they are and it sends your nerves to the surface.  Prying your lips apart, he presses inside and you willingly wrap your lips around it to lap the pad of his digit.  "Look at that sweet thing," he says, more at you than to you, and your neck flushes being this willing to suck for him, "so easy for me to use.  I put my thumb to y'er lips and you just took it right in, didn't ya?"  The taste of his skin robs you of any other sense, his tone making you all but fold.

"Show me what this mouth is good for, 'cuz it sure ain't good at a sincere apology."

Before you know it, you're on your knees.  Joel is kind enough that he ushers you down onto the hardwood floor and you can't believe you're face to face with his crotch in front of his door, no less.

"You couldn't wait to take me to your bedroom?"

Joel doesn't reply straight away.  Instead you hear the clanking of metal, a zipper coming undone, and the slap of his cock hitting his abdomen on the way out of his pants.  You take mental note that he hasn't been asleep by his attire, but it's all for nothing when your eyes make out the shapes in the dim light.  You choke when you see just how big he is.

He tuts, leaning his head condescendingly as he takes a chunk of your hair in his palm to tilt your chin up to greet his cock.  "Aw, you think you're goin' t'my room?"  The words make you feel naïve, the one or two times you've done something like this didn't have nearly as much... compromise.  And you certainly didn't hook up with someone twice your age.  You don't have time to be self-conscious because the head of him, the leaky head of him, is tapping against your lips and your eyes roll back as you open your mouth for him.  After jumping slightly in surprise, of course.

He sighs in relief with a deigned smile, pushing his hips further.  "Fuck.  You hear that?  Nothing!  Sounds so fuckin' good, shuttin' you up."

But it's not entirely nothing, is it?  Not with your gagging, slurping up what you can but you don't know what you're doing all the way and fumbling through half of it.  Doesn't seem to faze him much.

It's obscene as it feels, him using you like this – and you don't feel an ounce of guilt when it's exactly what you want.  The switch flips on why you came to his door in the first place.  His big thumb swipes over the corner of your full mouth, "You like that, dontcha, filthy thing?"

And you hated how right he was.  You wanted to scream, kick him.  Retaliate in a way so you could still be in this submission at the same time.

Your mouth was full by the earthy taste of him, obliterating whatever feelings you had about the day.  A bad mood that he had contributions in, but it's melting from the constant thrust of his hips.  And he's keeping your head locked in place, hand gripped in the strands so you can feel your spit mingling with the underside of his cock.  Honestly, every part of his dick is covered in your spit.  It spills down your chin, threatens up your nose when you gag, leaves your eyes to water when you look up at him in a dire need to breathe fully, but he's not done with you.

Not until the loudest, lewdest pop from your mouth you've ever heard does Joel break contact completely.  Steps back until you're being observed in a patronising way.  Your gone expression.  All saliva and tears and his precum smeared over your mouth.  You can barely bring yourself to look up, but his demands seem to do the trick.

Snapping his fingers at you to get your attention, you swallow hard.  "Nuh uh.  You're not gonna get all soft on me, girl.  Wake the fuck up."

Which would be simple if he wasn't practically dragging you by your hair, making you crawl on your hands and knees until you're on your feet and you're shoved onto his couch.

All that and you're still dressed.

"Off," he's barking commands like you're a trainable being and if you were in any other state, you may reconsider this whole ordeal, but when he pushed you onto the couch your legs spread just enough for him to see the wetness smearing the cotton at the apex of your thighs and that amuses him. "not good at hidin' how much of a slut y'are."

"You think it's just you that does this to me?" You find your voice again, hoisting yourself up to sit on his couch as his cock – thick and proud – sways against the fabric caught between it.  Your tongue presses to your cheek when you make eye contact, "You're kidding yourself."

The venom drips so fluidly from your tongue, Joel doesn't make a sound.  Just peels off his clothes until he's standing there naked in his house, giving you living proof that you are kidding yourself.

The silence speaks for itself.  He is pure smug under the sight of your drooling gaze.

"It's real cute that you think y'got control over the situation n'all," the weight shifting on this couch from the cushion shaping around his knee.  Joel sits down, taking you by the scalp again to cloak you over his lap stomach-first, and you yelp in surprise when he does all of this and tugs your shorts down in one fell swoop.

With your hair in his fist, his other hand ghosts over your ass in effort to make sure you squirm for him before administering a devilishly loud spank to your ass.  "But somebody better teach you better manners.  Sure as shit itn’t your father."

You crack out a sob at that– from the contact and the truth.  You couldn't retort, you were too busy getting slap after slap against your increasingly worn ass to think about anything else.  "Lucky I ain't making y'count.  You'd have this for eternity now."

Not that it mattered anyway.  He's leaving mark after mark of his large handprint across your cheeks, probably ten more if you could even focus on anything else but finding the words to stop him.

"Please– y-you're right," tears stain your face as you bury your face in your arms.  Flinching when Joel moves, you expect another searing punishment, but instead he pulls your ass apart and you gasp at the cool air striking your cunt that's hot and wet for him.  "Joel!"

“Dirty fuckin’ girl, wet from gettin’ punished.  I talked so bad about you, and you liked it?  You’re as desperate as I thought.  Only good for gettin’ my cock wet.”  And it’s like a lever is pulled when your slutty little smile plasters over your face with him out of view.  Not that you had much time to gloat, or to experience the pleasure of living in your own fantasy because Joel’s got you pulled again.  His thick thighs spread apart when he maneuvers you so willingly to sit between his legs.  Right where he wants you.  Right where you can feel the throbbing pulse at your folds.  He tells you to take off the rest of your clothes and you would be a fool to do otherwise.

“Bad girls don’t get the luxury of bein’ opened,” that Texan drawl slips over your ear when he holds the base of his cock, slicking himself through your folds, you gasp and wriggle against him – his grip tightening harder.  Silently warning you if you make another move it’s over, you’re done.  It’s over.  All the while the searing stretch of him causes your cunt to flutter and clench around him.  It’s too much, too overwhelming, and he won’t let you adjust long enough.  “You’ll get over it,” but it’s not reassuring.  He still sounds in control despite his laboured breathing and when he can, he moves his hands to grip your hips and guide you down on him.  You scream, a knee jerk response wriggle away from him, but this position doesn’t quite allow for that.

“Be a good girl.”

That folds you, quite literally, as he moves his hips down to pound up into yours, using you like his own toy to get himself off with.  And it’s just the incredible sounds of your squelching cunt and his balls tapping against your folds.  The fucking isn’t frantic, but it certainly isn’t soft.  He’s rough with you, a hand traveling up your back to grip your hair so your neck is back in place and he lifts you upright so your back is curved, neck craned so if you tried, you could make him out – upside down.  “Poor thing couldn’t help it, had to get a daddy to take care of her.  You want that, kitten?  Wanna be used and as daddy’s little fucktoy – only good for makin’ me cum?”  his hand sneaks around to the front of you with his free hand, he presses and digs into your pubic bone to make you feel exactly where he is.  “Put a baby right here.  Make everyone know what you fuckin’ did.”

You whine, eyes rolling back at the thought.  It was so obscene, nothing like you’d ever even heard of before.  Where did he fucking learn how to talk like this?  Your brain is swimming while your sticky sweetness coats his lap, clawing at his thighs for any sort of stability, but it was dizzying how he had you.  How his grunts filled the air in between slaps like he had your hips placed at the perfect angle for him to work you.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?”  His gritting teeth by the shell of your ear, he keeps you secure within your hair to snake his arm around the front of you tugging and rolling at the sensitive nubs of your nipples.  When he feels you appear to drift off, those rough hands supply another smack, but to your tits this time, your fingernails clawing into his thighs involuntarily as you squeal in surprise.  You tighten at that, fluttering around his cock and you feel it at the edge.  So close you can almost taste it.

But he knows you’re close, too, and there’s no way in hell he’s giving that to you.  Not when you’ve barged into his house like this, not when you’ve done nothing but be an insufferable brat to him since the moment he came to Jackson.

Joel hovers you over his lap, and your heels dig into the floorboard.  His hips still, keeping the very tip of his cock inside of you – you feel panic flash over your body.  “No,” it’s the first word you’ve uttered in god knows how long and it sounds desperate.  Any hope of getting an orgasm swirls down the drain, and it’s set in stone when he pushes you on your back – the lumpy couch digging into your skin.  “No, no, please.  Why!”

His eyes could burn a hole through you.  Like a hungry dog, his body hovers – shoulders stooped, head down when he pours his gaze into you.  And he likes what he sees.  Legs open and begging, willing to do anything to get him back into you.  Your cunt glistening, even in the dull light and he can tell it’s pulsing.  “Poor thing’s clampin’ around nothin’,” he teases, grunting when his knees meet the couch cushions – another tell of his age.  But you, you’re too preoccupied in taming the ache between your legs to comment.  It burns, coming back to a fixed state you realise how stretched out you were and it’s more than overwhelming.  To know you haven’t been used to completion, all hope draining from your face.

“Joel,” your breath is shaky underneath him, pupils blown and wet when you make out his features, “Joel, please.  Please, I want this.”

“Darlin’, I know you want it.  Everybody in town knows you want it,” his words make you sob a whine as they approach closer to your neck, the delicate graze of his beard dances at your pulsepoint and you shudder.  Hips raise and he’s quick to slam them back down into place.  “If you want me, ‘Joel’ ain’t whatchu say to get me.”

And if you felt hopeless before, you really do now.  Unable to do anything but debase yourself for your own pleasure.  You’d heard it earlier, the way he referred to himself with a name that brought up mixed feelings at Tommy’s.  You swallow down embarrassment, looking him in the eyes – which were faded obsidian, your fingernails dig into your own thighs as if to brace for what’s tempting to slip out of your throat.

You hated that he made you nervous.

And you hated the hold he had over you.

But he had it, there was no doubt about it.  He had it.  He had you.

Your jaw ticks forward, fully aware of your clit screaming for attention and exhale shakily.  “Please, daddy.  Please, I want this.”

“Eh,” Joel muses, shaking his head, “I don��t believe ya.  Really gotta hear the desperation in your voice.  Maybe if I,” his hand reaches for his cock, slapping the sloppy head of it against your folds and that– that sends you.  Takes you to a different destination entirely because for the first time all night there’s attention to that bundle of nerves, and he knows it.  He knows you need this in order to give everything over to him in full.  “Daddy!” you screech, pelvis jutting up in full inclination and without a single word, Joel’s cock spears into you all the way to the hilt.  All the way to your cervix.

His hands, emitting heat and wrapped largely around your hips, locks you where he wants you like some animal in heat.  It forces you to bring your legs up into a position you aren’t sure you’ve ever been in – thighs against your stomach, by your sides.  It’s so, “deep,” you whimper, head rocking as your mouth flies open and he’s delivering you thrust after thrust of pleasure so wrecking no noise comes from you.

“Is that what you needed? Fuckin' brat,”  Joel is still able to tease, but even he isn’t immune to how tight you are around him.  Your fluttering core begging for release as it moves in and out around him – as if it’s doing its own begging.  “You wanna be filled up to the brim with my cum, babygirl?  Needy fucking cunt like you only good for matin’ like this.”  Your skin burns at his words, your body convulsing as you do your best to keep it together.

That’s when Joel’s hand wraps around your throat, a line of spit falling into your mouth and you willingly drink from him.  “You hold off, you ain’t gettin’ it tonight,” you pout for a moment, not fully understanding what he means by that, but he clarifies when his hips get sharper, more precise.  As if his cock is hooked inside of you, not letting a drip of precum spill out of you against your cervix.  “Y’ain’t cummin’, but I am.”

His grip around your throat gets harder, and you swear you can see every vein in his face rise to the surface when he uses you.  You’re limp, all thoughts washed away – his cock thick and long, you aren’t even sure how he fits it all inside of you but he does.  The edge of your stomach bulges as he works you, his neck cranes back to expose his neck and it’s too much to take. For both of you.  His hot cum ropes cords inside of you, sticking to your walls.  Filling you up is an understatement with how much he has to give you.  It’s as if you can discern the moment his seed grazes your cervix in its sticky texture.  Your head is swimming at the sound of your animalistic grunts, he looks so… fucking hot like this.  His name is replaced with ‘daddy’ more easily than you care to admit.  You do try not to chase your orgasm… a part of you does, anyway.

But you’re defiant.

You can take yourself there without him telling you to, and in fact the opportunity to disobey him is just what you need to send yourself creaming all over his cock.  You gasp, eyes wide before they roll back and you’re fucking yourself on his spent cock that somehow still has life to it.  Even for his age, he can still keep it hard for you after his seed coats your insides.  “Daddy, daddy, daddy,” becomes part of your breath, and you’re shocked he doesn’t pull out of you even though his hips are still.  You don’t notice it until you come down considering you’re using him.  Did he say you could do that?  As if you’re woken up by an alarm, you jerk at the sensation of the orgasm you snuck.  Without his permission.  You look up, and his knuckles are bleached around your hips.  He looks so menacing like this, scary.  You shake your head, swallowing hard in your attempt to fix things.

But it’s too late for you.  You’re a brat at the end of the day, and he has to train you.  Make you realise the error of your ways.

His cock is still buried deep when his middle finger plays where the two of you connect.  A whine escapes you, shivering now, not quite sure what he’s going to do.  He’s lethally quiet, you aren’t sure how to react.  He’s contemplating what to do to you, he’s not met someone who’s as menacing as he is.  As unwilling to give away freedom.  Not since… his nostrils flare as he inhales.

“I told you not to do that,” Joel stating the obvious makes you clear your throat, his cock twitching inside you in the aftershocks sends your teeth to bite down on your lip and you shake your head, “I c- I couldn’t help it!” You lie, and he knows it.  Compels him to prod that middle finger just above his cock inside you and the stretch is too much.  When you reach out for his forearm, his other hand darkens over your wrist, pinning it back in a way that hurts.  You wince in tandem with it and his monstrous hook of the digit inside you.  You’re so full, “It’s too-it’s too much!” you tap at anything you can, but he’s not listening.

Instead, the pad of his finger has no problem in touching that spongy bit inside of you – especially since your cunt is stretched from his cock and he can see it.  His cum tempts to pool out of you, but he shoves it back in, working his finger inside you repeatedly but he’s just rubbing.  He’s just rolling his finger against your g-spot until you feel so overstimulated it brings more pain than pleasure.  “Came like you knew what you were doin’,” he finally remarks, thumb rolling over your clit and you can’t take it.  “Please, pl– it’s too much!  Daddy!”  That rhythm is sly, though, in making you come undone.  Again and again.  As you’re on the peak of what would be an explosive orgasm, Joel pulls out of you entirely.  His cock, his finger.  His warmth is a distant memory when he stands up, palming over his cock.  How did he get hard again?!  He would deal with that on his own time.

Your moan is choked out, thighs pressing together for any sort of… something.  A release, a grind.  You’re left panting and begging, your tits perky and heaving for him.

“What did I say, little girl?”  He climbs into his clothes, one button up at a time with his flannel.  “You won’t be cumming for a week with that fuckin’ attitude.”

You’re so lost in chasing a feeling, soon to disappear as it could arrive that all you can do is whimper and nod.  “I’m so–” his hand grips your jaw, forcing you to look up at him.  Spit covers your face, and you hum like a kitten at the feeling of his hot saliva down your cheek, “What did I fucking say about apologisin’ when you’re not sorry?”

You wipe your face, sucking the spit off your thumb with a satisfied smirk.  “Fuckin’ loved it, daddy.”

He swallows then, his head shaking in disbelief over how much of a filthy bitch you are.  “Yeah, yeah you fuckin’ did.  Belong to me now, you understand?  Gonna let everybody know what a slut you are for this cock.”

And you would be lying if you didn’t experience a swell of pride in those words.  You’d be down each other’s throats again in no time, but the look of ownership that adorns his face over you is too much not to bask in.

“A week?”  You study him, eyes wet and round, look up at him and you see his cheek twitch in response.

“Gonna be two if you keep it up.”

You let out a faint sigh, resting your head back on the armrest.  “Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl,” he coos, leaning down to press his lips at the shell of your ear.  Fingers tucking his cum back in your hole.  He relishes in how hot you feel under his fingers.

“Now get the fuck out of my house.”

taglist: @cool-iguana - dm to be added!

[sugarcoated-lame]

Lost and Found | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Single Dad!Bradley x Reader

Part One of my Single dad!Bradley miniseries | part two | library blog

*all my works are 18+, minors DNI

Summary: When Bradley’s four-year old daughter goes missing during a trip to the mall, he doesn’t expect to find himself so taken with the pretty stranger who helps her find her way back to him.

WC: 3.6K

Warnings: I suck at titling my stories and summaries :), a bit of angst, mentions of pregnancy and abandonment, (briefly) missing child, mentions of anxiety/panic attack, but then so much fluff, Bradley’s kid being too cute for her own good, implied age gap, I feel like dilf Bradley needs his own warning

a/n: I wrote this months ago and I’m a bit nervous to share, but the response to the teaser was so amazing (thank you <3) and dilf Bradley lives in my head rent-free, so I’m excited about this one! Also the picture on the right just screams dad Bradley to me! Thank you for reading, as always I’d love to hear your feedback, so please leave a comment/reblog <3

• • •

Bradley directs his gaze away from the rack of little girls’ clothes he’d been perusing, injecting enthusiasm into his voice as he holds up a hanger with a small, baby pink t-shirt dress hanging on it. “Hey, Bug. What do you think of this–?” 

He cuts himself off before the end of his question when he realizes that he’s talking to no one. “Where did she…?” 

He trails off, brows furrowed. Still holding up the child-sized dress that looks especially tiny next to his large frame, Bradley spins around, perplexed. She was just here.

- - - 

Bradley’s daughter, Caroline, who’d just recently turned four— and was growing up way too fast for his liking— was set to begin preschool next week. His little girl was growing right before his eyes and she needed a new wardrobe to accommodate that. So, Bradley had taken her to the mall to buy some new clothes for school. He didn’t know the first thing about little girls’ fashion, but he was sure he could manage.

He’d spent the last hour searching through clothing rack after clothing rack in the girl’s section of a department store, Caroline at his side, lips in a pout and shaking her little head ‘no’ at all of his choices, sandy brown curls bobbing along with her every movement. Bradley could tell the four-year old was getting bored, and he was becoming frustrated.

The buzzing of his phone with a text from Maverick granted him a brief reprieve from his predicament.

“One second, honey.” Bradley sighed, affectionately patting the top of his daughter’s head before looking toward his phone to answer some question Mav had about work.

He was happy for a moment’s distraction from getting ready to tear his hair out wondering if he was going to have to send his daughter to her first day of preschool wearing a trash bag because he didn’t know what the hell kind of clothes he’s supposed to buy for a picky four-year old girl.

Bradley had been a single parent for most of his daughter’s life. He and Caroline’s mother, Amber, had only been seeing each other for the better half of a year when they found out the news that they were expecting. And even then, their relationship was never really official.

The two met not long after the Uranium Mission, while Bradley was still on North Island taking some time to relax and awaiting another assignment. He’d gone to the little diner Amber was waitressing at, he thought she was cute and they’d hit it off straight away. Bradley got her number and the rest was history.

The Navy kept Bradley busy. He was always traveling for some assignment or deployments – sometimes gone for months at a time, so they only saw each other on the rare occasions he was in town. 

They’d hang out and hook up, maybe go on a date here and there, a sort of friends-with-benefits situation. There was definitely a sense of care between Bradley and Amber, but the lack of time they were able to spend together meant it never went beyond that.

When they learned that Amber was pregnant, they both knew it wouldn’t be easy. But they thought that, together, they could make it work.

A few months after Caroline was born though, Amber admitted that she couldn’t handle things.

Bradley took to being a father so easily. From the moment their baby was born and she looked up at him with those big, honey brown eyes that matched his own, he knew that he’d do absolutely anything for her. Caroline instantly became his world.

Amber, on the other hand, really struggled. She loved her baby of course, but deep down she wasn’t sure she was ready to be a mother. If she’d ever be. 

She figured it was better if she’d gone while Caroline was still young enough that she wouldn’t remember her, and knew that their daughter would be just fine in Bradley’s loving hands. And just like that, she left the both of them.

Bradley resented Amber for a while, but in time he came to understand. Not everyone was meant to be a parent. Besides that, he knew that there was no time for resentment. 

He was on his own with a four-month old baby and he needed to put all of his energy into taking care of her. So, he requested a more permanent position at Top Gun so that he could stay in one place to raise his daughter, and it’s been just the two of them ever since.  

 - - - 

Bradley couldn’t have been turned around for more than thirty seconds before he pocketed his phone and reached back out to grab the little pink dress off the rack to show his daughter. But, when he turned back, Caroline was nowhere to be seen.

Ok, don’t panic, Bradley tells himself. She can’t have gone far.  

“Caroline?” He calls out calmly, eyes darting around the surrounding area as he spins to look in every direction.

When he doesn’t receive a response, Bradley puts down the dress he was holding and begins to walk among the sea of clothing racks, still calling out his daughter’s name.

He searches the entire girl’s section of the store without success and decides to broaden his search, his heart beginning to speed up in his chest. Ok, he’s starting to panic.

Bradley picks up his pace, maneuvering from one section of the store to another, asking the other customers and few employees that mill about if they’ve seen his daughter. 

He knows he must look crazed, practically sprinting, his sneakers squeaking as he moves across the shiny floors as his repeated calls of Caroline’s name become increasingly more frantic — panting and on the verge of tears by the time he’s finished searching the entirety of the large department store to no avail.

Bradley stands frozen in the middle of the store, tears pricking his eyes, chest rising and falling rapidly on the brink of hyperventilating. He’s at a loss for what to do. His mind racing through all of the worst scenarios. What if she’s hurt? What if someone took her? 

It’s his job to protect his little girl and make sure that she’s always safe, and he failed her. He’s all that Caroline has, and he feels like a failure of a father.

- - -

You’re walking through the busy mall with a couple of bags in hand, all finished with your shopping and ready to head home when you see her. 

A little girl — tiny really, she can’t be older than five — with curls a golden shade bordering between both blonde and brown, standing by the bottom of the escalator, alone. 

Playing with her little fingers as she looks around the crowd aimlessly with unshed tears in her big, brown eyes. The scared look on her adorable little face breaks your heart, and you know you can’t leave without making sure she’s okay.

You approach her slowly, as if she were a frightened animal that might bolt at any moment, speaking softly so as not to scare her any further. “Hey, honey. Are you alright?”

The look she gives you is a shy one, eyes widening before she looks down at her light-up sneakers and shakes her head. 

You can tell the little girl is apprehensive about talking to a stranger — smart.

Kneeling down to be at her eye-level before speaking again, and setting your shopping bags down at your sides, you tell her your name and ask for hers.

“I’m Caroline.” Her voice is sweet and shy, a near-whisper as she chances a glance up at you, eyes still shining with tears when she lifts her head.

“Are you here alone, Caroline? Are you with your mommy and daddy?” You ask her gently.

She shakes her head again, curls swaying along with the motion.  “I was with my daddy, but I lost him.”

The adorable pout on her lips might’ve made you smile, if it weren’t for the tears that follow, finally spilling from her eyes and trailing down onto her rosy cheeks.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I can help you find him!” You soothe as your thumb moves to brush her tears away. “Where did you last see him?”

Caroline sniffles and thinks for a moment before speaking, a little bit louder this time.

“We were buying me clothes for preschool in one of the big stores, and my daddy had to answer the phone so I was looking all by myself. And then I got lost and I couldn’t find him.”

You continue to wipe at Caroline’s tears as she talks in that rambling sort of way that all little kids do.

“Preschool, wow. That sounds fun!” You try to take her mind off of the scary situation for a second and she nods excitedly at that, still sniffling. “What’s your daddy’s name?”

Her tears finally begin to slow as she talks about her dad.

“His name’s Bradley, but everybody calls him Rooster! He flies planes!” Caroline explains excitedly. 

You can’t help but chuckle as you tell her that her dad has a funny nickname, and that his job sounds fun. You’re happy to see Caroline give you a small smile back.

“Do you remember what store you and your daddy were shopping in?”

She has to think for a long moment, the most adorable, pensive pout you’ve ever seen on her face as she tries to remember.

She doesn’t know the name of the store, but she is able to describe it for you, and you’re able to make a distinction from there.

Standing back to your full height, you readjust your bags on one arm and extend your free hand out towards Caroline, offering her a reassuring smile.  

“I know exactly where that is! Ready to go find him?” Caroline grins as she takes your hand with an excited nod, tears no longer visible in her big brown eyes.

The two of you walk on in search of her dad — Bradley, and Caroline talks your ear off the whole way. She is absolutely adorable, telling you more about herself and asking you questions about yourself too, and you find yourself falling more in love with her sweet disposition by the minute. 

Within five minutes, you make it to the store that Caroline had been in last, hopeful to reunite her with her father who you figure must be worried sick.

- - -

Bradley isn’t quite sure how long he’s been scouring the massive department store looking for his four-year old daughter— though it feels like forever, time seeming to move in slow motion— on the brink of a panic attack and just about ready to phone the police when he hears a familiar high-pitched shriek of, “DADDY!”

He turns around at lightning speed — and practically gives himself whiplash — to see Caroline approaching him, holding a woman’s hand. 

When she lets go and bounds right towards him, Bradley lets out a massive sigh of relief. Kneeling down to catch his little girl in his arms, he feels like he might cry all over again, overcome with a flurry of emotions now that his daughter is safe in his embrace once again.

“Caroline, baby, you scared me half to death!” Bradley can’t keep the emotion out of his voice as he lifts his daughter into his arms and stands back up to his full height, lying his head atop of hers and squeezing her tight. “You can’t just wander off like that, you could’ve gotten hurt.”

He tries his best not to sound angry — she is only four after all, and he’s just thankful that she’s okay. Caroline’s arms wrap around his neck as he holds her tight, her face burrowing into the crook of Bradley’s neck.

“Daddy, I’m fine!” She insists. “And I made a new friend!” 

It’s only then that Bradley looks up at the woman who had reunited him with his little girl, standing a few feet away and watching them with a sweet smile.

Oh. It’s only then that he realizes, you are beautiful. 

Bradley’s honestly convinced you might be an angel. Pretty, bright eyes and a glowing sweet smile that nearly takes his breath away. And, you’d been kind enough to help his daughter safely find her way back to him.

Bradley just stares for a moment, lips parted and still holding Caroline in his arms, and he hopes that you’ll chalk it up to the overwhelming nature of the situation.

“Uh– thank you so much for bringing Caroline back to me. I don’t know how I could ever repay you.” He rushes out, hand cradling the back of his baby’s hair. “I-I’m…” Fuck, why is he so nervous all of a sudden?

“…Bradley,” You finish for him. “Or, Rooster. Right?”

His brows furrow, a pensive look on his very handsome face, a look that you realize matches the one you had seen on his daughter’s face earlier. Cute.  

“How did you-” He begins to question how you know his name — and call-sign — but is promptly cut off by his four-year old practically screaming in his ear.

“I told her, Daddy!” Caroline exclaims proudly.  

For a man called ‘Rooster’, you sure were not expecting Caroline’s dad to be this good looking. But, fuck, is he hot.

Though he’s clearly got a few years on you, Bradley’s all tall and sun-kissed, tan skin. Broad shoulders and big, muscular arms on display in his fitted black t-shirt while he holds up his little girl, sandy curls a shade or two darker than hers. Whiskey-colored eyes that match his daughter’s, that you can only describe as puppy dog eyes. 

His deep, husky voice that sends tingles down your spine and beautifully shaped pink lips framed by a mustache that you’re surprised you find so attractive.

“Well, I’m glad I could be of help.” You hope that he can’t see the flush you can feel blooming on your cheeks as you speak. “And, Caroline was great company!”

You wink at the little girl who giggles against his shoulder, and when Bradley smiles at you graciously, you can’t help but smile back. God, his smile is pretty.

Up in his arms, Caroline gets distracted playing with her dad's curls. There are a few moments of silence between you, though not uncomfortable, before Bradley speaks up again.

“Well, thank you again. I–uh,” Bradley clears his throat. 

“I guess we should let you go. We’ve gotta find some clothes for this little troublemaker, otherwise she’ll have to go to school wearing a garbage bag.” Bradley jokes in a playful tone, bouncing his daughter around in his arms as she giggles, and you can’t help but laugh too at the infectious sound.

“Daddy, wait!” Caroline shouts out before you can answer him.

“What is it, little bug?” Bradley murmurs as he strokes a hand lovingly over her curls. Caroline turns in his hold, directing her next question toward you.

“Can you come with us?” Oh, her puppy dog eyes are even cuter than Bradley’s, and you imagine he probably has a hard time ever saying no to her. “Daddy has no idea what he’s doing when it comes to girl clothes.”

You can’t contain the giggle that escapes your lips as Caroline dramatically rolls her eyes and Bradley lets out an offended huff, the two of them staring at each other with matching, petulant pouts. Adorable.

“That is not true!” Bradley practically shrieks at his daughter and it only makes you laugh more.

“And, honey, she probably doesn’t want–” Bradley begins to protest before you interject.

“I’d love to.” You chime in with a coy grin and Bradley looks back at you, bewildered.

Sure, you figure he probably has a beautiful wife waiting for him at home, but what’s the harm in spending just a little more time with a handsome pilot and his adorable daughter? So far, you’re having a lot of fun.

Bradley’s brows furrow skeptically. “Are you…sure?”

You purse your lips, staring up toward the ceiling for a moment as if you really need to think about it before you grin and offer him a one-shouldered shrug. “Yeah, I’ve got nowhere to be.” 

You hope you don’t seem too eager, but the matching smiles you receive from both Bradley and Caroline tell you they don’t mind.

Bradley’s honestly a bit shocked that you— a pretty, young, complete stranger, want to stick around to hang out with him and his kid, but he isn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

So, once you assure him again that you’re happy to stay, he sets Caroline back on her feet and offers — more like insists — that he holds your shopping bags, and the three of you set off to peruse the oh-so daunting girl’s clothing section of the store once again.

Bradley watches in awe as Caroline grabs your hand, tugging you along as you help her pick out some articles of clothing.

The two of you chatter the whole time, bringing him into the conversations too, holding up articles of clothing and asking what he thinks, and Bradley is delighted to see how good you are with his daughter.

“This would look pretty on you!” Caroline holds out a little girl’s purple sweater dress in your direction. “Wouldn’t it, Daddy?” 

You’re biting back a grin as Bradley looks to you and then back to his daughter and chuckles.

“I don’t think it comes in her size, Bug.” Bradley’s gaze returns to you, mirth in his eyes when he continues, “But yeah, it would look very pretty.” 

You know he can see the obvious flush to your cheeks this time as his lips pull up into a smirk. 

Shaking your head, you look back down to Caroline with a grin. “I think it’d look even prettier on your dad.” That pulls a giggle out of both of them. 

Things go on like that as the three of you continue to shop, Bradley admiring how sweet and funny you are, how patient you are with his daughter.

The two of you discreetly sharing amused looks at some of the obscure things Caroline says that could only come out of a little kid’s mouth, banter coming easily between the three of you. 

After a short while, Caroline has an array of new outfits for school— and a new stuffed animal after some begging and very convincing puppy dog eyes from his four-year old while you stood by and tried not to giggle, and Bradley knows that he wants to get to know you more.

He hasn’t done much in the way of dating since becoming a single father. Aside from the simple lack of time, Bradley’s always been afraid that most women won’t want to stick around when they find out he has a kid.

That they might not get along with his daughter or worse, be upset when they realize that Caroline will always be his number one priority. 

Too scared to let his daughter get attached to someone only for them to leave, Caroline is his world and he’s been content with that. 

But now, after seeing the way you are with his little girl — and in such a short time, he can’t help but think that he already likes you being a part of it.

With the clothing shopping done, the sun is setting by the time you're all ready leave the mall. Bradley and Caroline walk you out to your car, and both are reluctant to say goodbye to you just yet. You can't say you’re too happy to part with them either. 

As he helps you put your bags in the trunk of your car, Bradley knows he needs to take his shot now — or as Hangman likes to tell him, he needs to get off his perch.

“Hey, could I possibly get your number?” Bradley asks, trying to sound as confident as his voice can possibly muster. “I’d love to see you again.”

Caroline pipes up from next to you, jumping up and down while she still holds your hand. “Me too!”

Is he asking you out? The breathless laugh you let out is one of shock, and you’re sure the look on your face matches as you glance between the adorable father-daughter duo.

You’re also sure that you’re blushing again.

For a moment, you can only stand frozen, lips parted, and when you realize you’ve yet to answer his question, you promptly close your mouth and attempt to school your features, quickly nodding your head.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You tell him shyly, and Bradley can’t help but smirk at the color that’s begun to paint your cheeks. 

He hands over his phone and tries not to smile too hard as you type in your number, glancing up at him and biting back your own grin while you send yourself a text so that you’d have his too.

You kneel down to squeeze Caroline into a hug, the little girl happily wrapping her arms around your neck. You leave her with a promise that you’ll see them again soon, though the way you look up at her father over her shoulder lets Bradley know that that promise is directed at the both of them. 

When you stand, Bradley gazes at you with a thoughtful smile before bringing you into a hug too.

“Have a good night, sweetheart.” The deep rumble of his voice so close to your ear, as well as the heat of his touch, leave your body feeling warm all over. That warmth never fading even as you watch Bradley and Caroline cross the parking lot, hand-in-hand, to get to their car.

Yeah, you definitely wouldn’t mind seeing him again soon. 

- - -

Thank you for reading! Leave a comment/reblog if you enjoyed, feedback is always appreciated! x

Part 2 will be up next Wednesday! <3

UPDATE: you can read part two here ! ❤️

tag list: @wkndwlff @sebsxphia @chaoticassidy @dempy @ohgodnotagainn @shanimallina87 @mavrellover91 @memoriesat30 @that-bitch-bri @classyunknownlover @hisredheadedgoddess28 @foreverrandomwritings @lt-spork @princess76179 @gigisimsonmars @kidd3ath @averyhotchner @sammyrenae68 @tv-fanatic18 @one-sweet-gubler @simonscumsock

also tagging some people who reblogged/replied to the sneak peek : @fanficfandomlove @hangmanssunnies @milestomaverick @maverick-wingman @teacupsandtopgun @katiemcrae @colourfulsuitwonderland @becks-things @bradshawsbaddie @bradshawsbitch @valhallaas @roger-that-cap @woodkiller

. . .

[sophia-sol]

Every year at about this time (...very approximately) I post a reclist of 10 short stories I particularly enjoyed reading in the last year, all of which can be read online for free. Here's the latest list, and I hope you enjoy them as much as I did!

1. Sestu Hunts the Last Deer in Heaven - MH Cheung Beautiful and odd. A story of what happens after you've killed the gods, the unexpected realities and the things you have to live with. I love stories about after the climactic things traditional fantasy narratives are about, and this one excels!

2. If You Find Yourself Speaking to God, Address God with the Informal You - John Chu Two butch Asian weightlifter dudes bonding with each other and then dating, and one of them happens to have superpowers, but the superpowers aren't the focus. This is SO charming!!

3. Two Hands, Wrapped in Gold - SB Divya This is a really cool retelling of the classic fairy tale Rumpelstiltskin from the Rumpelstiltskin character's pov, building out the world and his background and making him a sympathetic character with a specific history. Haven't seen a fairy tale retelling quite like this before and it's great! And I say that as a connoisseur of fairy tale retellings.

4. A Farce to Suit the New Girl - Rebecca Fraimow A troupe of Jewish actors in Russia, in a time of political upheaval. This story has such a good and powerful feeling of activity and forward momentum, and of the way a community supports people even if things are weird or complicated! I love every single character and how firmly they are themselves.

5. Sheri, At This Very Moment - Bianca Sayan The sacrifices you make to spend time with the ones you love - a snapshot of one brief visit together, out of two lives that only rarely get to align. Made me teary the first time I read it!

6. Spirochete - Anneke Schwob An engaging second-person pov story about possession and identity. It has such a great sense of timing! And the last line GOT me even on second read when I hypothetically knew what was coming!

7. To Embody a Wildfire Starting - Iona Datt Sharma Ahhhhhh this story is so good at embodying the horrible complexities of the choices people make in the worst of situations, that good and bad and divine and evil and just plain personness can all reside in one being. Also it's about a dragon society and the revolutionary humans who tried to make everyone into dragons, and also about parent-child relationships, and also about a bunch of other things. God it's good.

8. Obsolesce - Nadine Aurora Tabing Is it really me if I don't have at least ONE story about robots in my rec lists? (actually I just went back and checked and in multiple previous years I inexplicably didn't, maybe it wasn't me writing the reclist in those years lol) ANYWAY who wants to have sad feelings about robots again! I know I always do! In a world where anyone who has a physical body instead of having their consciousness transferred is more and more obsolete, no matter if your body is human or robot, what do you hold onto? This one has a real good melancholy tone.

9. Letters from a Travelling Man - WJ Tattersdill ....does what it says on the tin. Letters to a dear friend, from a man travelling for the first time to the unfamiliar part of the world that friend comes from. I love the sense of place you get from the letters, as well as the deep and abiding importance of this friendship in both their lives. Another one I cried over!

10. Texts from the Ghost War - Alex Yuschik Another epistolary one, but this time in text messages instead of letters, and between characters who start the story antagonistically! About mech pilots in a ghost war, and making connections, and finding things to care about, even when stuff sucks. I love them!! (also, I am inescapably me, whoops, it took me until I read some fanfic of this story to realize that almost certainly the story was meant to be canonically shipping the two leads, I never notice romance unless there's anvil-sized indications.) Anyway this is a really good story!

[formulas-bitch]

Meant to be - mob boss Max x sainz/reader

The room was dimly lit, with the flickering light casting eerie shadows across the walls. The scent of burning candles and expensive cologne filled the air, mixing into a haunting aroma that seemed to hang like a veil between the mob boss and his guest. The two men sat across from each other at a massive, polished walnut table, their expressions carefully neutral as they waited for the other to make the first move. This was a meeting that could potentially change the course of both of their lives, and they knew it.

As the tension in the room grew, Max leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, and spoke in a low, steady voice. "So, Carlos, you understand why I've asked you here tonight." It wasn't a question, but he offered it up anyway, his piercing blue eyes boring into Carlos's brown ones. Carlos nodded slowly, trying to maintain his composure. "Yes, Max. I understand. You want to marry my sister."

"And you're not opposed to that?" Max pressed, his expression unreadable. Carlos took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "No, Max. I'm not opposed to it. But I want you to know that I will protect her with my life. If you hurt her in any way, if you make her unhappy, I will find you, and I will make you pay." His voice was low and steady, but there was an undercurrent of menace that could not be ignored.

The mob boss nodded slowly, his gaze unwavering. "I understand, Carlos. Your sister is very important to you. She's important to me too. I want to make her happy, to give her a life filled with love and luxury. A life she deserves." Max leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. "But I also need to know that you trust me. That you believe I can provide that life for her. and it will bring our two families together"

Carlos studied the mob boss's face for a moment, searching for any hint of deceit. But there was none to be found. Max's expression was open, honest, and filled with a genuine desire to make his future wife happy. Slowly, Carlos nodded. "I do trust you, Max. And I believe that you can give her that life. A life filled with love and protection, just like our parents did." He paused, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "And who knows? Maybe our two families will find a way to be together, not just through marriage, but as friends too."

There was a brief moment of silence as the two men contemplated the weight of their words. Then, Max reached out, clasping Carlos's hand in a firm grip. "Thank you, Carlos. I appreciate your trust, and I won't let you down. I promise to make your sister the happiest woman in the world."

The tension began to ease, replaced by a sense of camaraderie and understanding. They spoke for several more hours, discussing their families, their hopes for the future, and the challenges that lay ahead. The candlelight flickered softly, casting dancing shadows across their faces as they shared stories and laughter.

As the night wore on, Max excused himself to make a phone call. When he returned, he was carrying a small, velvet box. He placed it on the table in front of Carlos, and a look of pride and anticipation spread across his face. "Carlos, I wanted to give your sister something special. Something that symbolized not only our commitment to each other, but also to the future that we're building together."

Carlos opened the box, revealing a stunning diamond ring. It was exquisitely crafted, sparkling in the dim light, and Carlos couldn't help but gasp in awe. "It's beautiful, Max. She's going to love it." He held the ring up, admiring the craftsmanship before slipping it onto his own finger. The two men shared a brief moment of silence, each lost in their own thoughts about the significance of the ring and the promises it represented.

As the evening drew to a close, Max stood up, offering his hand to Carlos. "Thank you, my friend. I appreciate your understanding and support. Together, I truly believe we can build a future that our families will be proud of." Carlos took Max's hand, their grip firm and confident. "I'm honored to stand by your side, Max. And I promise to do everything in my power to make sure our families prosper and grow."

The two men exchanged a final, knowing glance before they parted ways. Max walked out into the cool night air, his shoulders back and his chest puffed out with pride. He knew that the meeting with Carlos had gone better than he could have hoped for. Now, all he had to do was wait for the right moment to propose to Gabriela .

In the meantime, he would continue to focus on his work, ensuring that the criminal empire he had built continued to thrive. He had a team of trusted advisors and lieutenants who helped him run things day-to-day, but he remained the undisputed leader, the one they all looked to for guidance and direction. His word was law, and he took his responsibilities seriously.

Max's thoughts often drifted to Gabriela, wondering what she was doing, if she was happy, and if she had given any more thought to their future together. He couldn't help but feel a sense of possessiveness whenever he thought about her, knowing that he wanted her all to himself. He knew that their marriage would be a complicated one, with their families' pasts hanging over them like a cloud, but he was determined to make it work. He wanted them to have the life that they deserved, filled with love and luxury, and he was willing to do whatever it took to make that happen.

In the midst of his planning and preparation, Max received word that one of their rival gangs was making a move on their territory. He knew he had to handle the situation delicately, as any misstep could lead to all-out war. He called a meeting with his most trusted lieutenants, a group of men who had been with him since the beginning. They discussed strategy and tactics, debating the best course of action. Max listened intently, taking each of their opinions into consideration before making his final decision.

As they planned their counterattack, Max couldn't help but think about Gabriela. He longed to share this news with her, to see the look of admiration in her eyes as he discussed his leadership and strategic thinking. He imagined her telling him how proud she was to stand by his side, how much she loved him and believed in him. The thought of marrying her and starting a family together filled him with a sense of purpose and joy that he had never experienced before.

The meeting concluded with a plan of action, and Max left feeling confident that they would emerge victorious. He couldn't wait to share the news with Gabriela and ask for her support and counsel. He knew that together, they would make a formidable team, able to navigate the treacherous waters of the criminal underworld and build a life of love, luxury, and security for themselves and their families.

As he drove home late at night, Max's thoughts once again drifted to the engagement ring and the moment he would propose to Gabriela. He knew that he wanted to do it in a way that was both romantic and memorable, something that would show her just how deeply he felt for her. He considered taking her on a private jet to a secluded island, where he would have a team of chefs prepare a gourmet meal and a string quartet play their favorite songs. But as he pulled into his driveway, he decided against it. He wanted something more intimate, something that felt special just for the two of them.

The next morning, Max woke up early, anxious to see Gabriela. He had arranged for a private chef to prepare breakfast in bed for the two of them, complete with freshly squeezed orange juice and his favorite croissants. As he waited for her to emerge from the bedroom, he couldn't help but feel a surge of adrenaline, his heart racing with anticipation. When she finally appeared, wearing one of his favorite dresses that showed off her curves, he knew that this was the moment.

With a deep breath, Max got down on one knee and pulled out the engagement ring from his pocket. He looked up at her, his eyes filled with love and devotion, and asked her the question that had been burning in his heart for months. "Gabriela, from the moment I first saw you, I knew that you were someone special. You're beautiful, smart, and strong. You've been by my side through everything, and I want to spend the rest of my life showing you just how much I love and appreciate you. Will you marry me?"

Tears welled up in Gabriela's eyes as she looked down at Max, her heart racing with emotion. She felt an overwhelming sense of happiness and love wash over her as she gazed into his sincere eyes. "Max," she whispered, "of course I'll marry you." She reached out and took his hand, gently sliding the ring onto her finger. The sparkle of the diamond in the morning light was a testament to the bright future that lay ahead of them.

They stayed like that for a moment, holding hands and soaking in the happiness that filled the room. Max couldn't help but feel grateful for this woman who had come into his life and given him a reason to believe in love again. He leaned in and kissed her tenderly, his heart swelling with love and devotion. As they continued to embrace, Max felt a pang of guilt as he thought about the rival gang and the challenges that lay ahead. But for now, he wanted nothing more than to lose himself in Gabriela's arms and forget about everything else.

Gabriela smiled up at him, her green eyes sparkling with love. "I've been thinking," she said, her voice soft and sultry. "I've always dreamed of having a wedding that was as extravagant as your lifestyle. What do you say? We could have it at one of your private estates, with a guest list that rivals the Forbes list. We could hire the best chefs, designers, musicians… anything you desire. It would be our dream wedding, just like you deserve."

Max's heart skipped a beat at the thought of sharing such a moment with her. "That sounds perfect," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life making you happy, and showing you just how much you mean to me."

As they lay there together, lost in their own little world, Max couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over him. He knew that with Gabriela by his side, they could overcome any obstacle, and that together, they would continue to build their empire and live a life of luxury and love.

[moonswolfie]

Kenma, suna, and tsukishima with a gf that loves to baby them? Like she loves dressing them up, dotes on them, and acts liek their parent sometimes? Thanx!

HELLO THERE EVERYONE

i return with a request and a new theme 😏 thank u so much for requesting🩵 i know i just changed my theme but i'm already making pinterest boards for new themes ITS JUST SO FUN!

in case you couldn't tell the reader is fem!

ALSO SUMMER HOLIDAYS!?!??! Its nice to finally be free...

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ Tsukishima Kei

"I'm worried about you, you know." you placed your head in your hands, leaning your elbows on the table. "Really, it should be the other way around. You don't know this even though it should be basic knowledge." Tsukishima sighed, ready to go over the biology lesson with you for the hundreth time already.

"Do you get enough sleep? Your eyebags are looking a little big lately. Do you eat enough? You look stressed. You always tell me you're fine, but-"

"I'm fine." Tsukishima brushed you off, looking back at the notebook.

"What are you pouting like a toddler for?" when he looked back up at you, he was seriously baffled by the similarity of your face to a little kid who got refused to eat candy. Though, maybe, just maybe, he finds it kind of cute. Maybe.

"We're done studying." you got up from the dining table, placing your hands on your hips. "You do realise I'm only doing this because you asked, right? And you're the one still struggling with this subject, last time I checked." he furrowed his brows slightly.

"I won't be able to study in peace until I see you sleeping peacefully in bed after a good meal. We can start with the sleep and I'll cook something later!" you were determined to take care of him now. Sometimes your boyfriend's aloof attitude towards his well being and towards everything in general makes you worry. Whenever he replies with a simple "I'm fine" you must dote on him for a bit. That's the rule.

It looked like he was weighing his choices for a brief moment before sighing and saying "Fine, just don't come crying when you fail this test tommorow."

"Yaaaay, I'll be up in your room, ready to tuck you in!" you pecked his lips, spun around on your heels and ran upstairs to his room.

Tsukishima sighed, closing his notebook. When he looked to the doorway, his mom was standing there and smiling at him. He immediately tensed up, worrying about just how much of your conversation she heard.

"You know, your girlfriend would make a good mom. I'm just saying." Tsukishima's mom smiled at her son cheekily. He hid his face, not moving for a good thirty seconds before practically sprinting to his room.

He never did tell you why he looked so red upon arriving in his room.

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ Suna Rintaro

"Is all of this really neccessary?" Suna raised one of his perfect brows when you placed another shirt in his arms. You took him out for a shopping trip today. Your shopping trips always end with him walking out the mall with a whole new closet instead of the other way around.

He always insists that he doesn't need new clothes or much of anything, but you always end up convincing him into a mall trip. You spoil him rotten, to be honest. Not that he minds.

"Yeah, how else am I going to keep you well-dressed?" you urged him to the dressing room just so you can clap excitedly at every outfit he puts on and models for you. He already looks like one, so why not take advantage of that, right?

"Okay, whatever you say, babe." Suna rolled his eyes playfully and walked into the changing room. You were squealing excitedly at each outfit he appeared in from behind the curtain like a crazy fangirl.

He didn't seem too enthusiastic about some of the outfits which made you sad but for the most part, you had loads of fun. He was taking a while with the last outfit, though. And you were probably overreacting, but you got worried.

You just can't help but worry for your boyfriend sometimes, even if it is unwarranted. It's kind of your thing. One time he accidentally cut his finger and you spent every moment together with him pressing get better kisses on it. You made sure he changed the bandaid every day, too. You were comically worried about him being able to attend volleyball practice. And that's just one of the examples.

So you pulled back the curtain.

"A little privacy, please?" Your boyfriend was standing in the changing room in all of his shirtless glory. You never really thought about it until now, but Suna is fit. You suppose it makes sense, considering he plays volleyball, but still. He was smiling at you cheekily, probably amused by how dumbfounded you look right now.

"I... um, it's... I was just worried about you! And put your shirt back on, you'll catch a cold!" You don't think you've ever closed a curtain as fast before.

You could hear Suna laugh to himself behind the curtain. "Sure, sure, mom. But I think you were just trying to be a little sneaky."

Well, you still ended up spoiling your boyfriend with new clothes that day, but you ended up with an accidental gift of your own, too. Maybe being a worrywart isn't that bad sometimes.

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ Kozume Kenma

"Um, I can eat on my own..." Kenma gently pushed away your hand, which was holding food to his mouth.

"Oh, we both know you wouldn't eat at all if I didn't hand feed you. You seriously need to lay off the videogames sometimes." You playfully rolled your eyes, putting the piece of food back to his mouth. He sighed with exasperation and begrudgingly ate the piece of food.

"And besides, you know how much I love spoiling you. I can't resist when you're just... too cute." you pulled on his cheek like an overly excited grandma.

The thing about Kenma is, he hates that he likes being babied by you. When his mom used to do it, he found it overbearing and annoying, but when you hand feed him, it kind of feels comforting. Then again though, he can't focus on the videogame because of that. So that's why he hates it.

"I could go without the... ugh." Kenma was just about to beat the level, but you placing another piece of food in front of his face distracted him for just a moment, which made him get a game over.

"Oh..." you stared at the game over screen, suddenly feeling bad for being a distraction. You just can't help but want to baby him whenever you're with him. He doesn't exactly make it hard for you with the way he blushes and gets all embarrased every single time.

"Well then, I was just thinking you played enough videogames today. I propose we do something else." you pulled on Kenma's arm and he protested by giving you one of his iconic scowls.

"You'll get wrinkles if you frown too much." you reminded him with a gentle smile. He mumbled something you couldn't quite catch under his breath and reached for the controller.

"Oh no. No you don't." you tackled Kenma before he could do anything else. You know, if he wasn't so damn flustered right now, he would have been seriously mad. But when you smile at him like that, it's like his anger decides to get up and leave.

"Would you... umm, mind getting off me?" he was worried that he might overheat like his dad's poor laptop which he forced to run videogames far beyond its capabilities. Now he feels bad for that old thing.

"Only if you promise that we go for a little walk outside." he grumbled at first but ended up agreeing after you gave him a little kiss on the cheek as encouragement.

[luxaofhesperides]

(yourlocalcorviddad)

Wait wait wait, can there be more written about the one with Duke going on college tours with Danny??? If it's not too late?!??

(part one)

Danny’s been in love with Duke for years now. It’s always been kept a closely guarded secret, buried under as many wraps as he could get it. He tried to chase after other fleeting crushes in the hopes of moving on from his feelings for Duke, sure that they were never going to go anywhere.

How could they, when they lived states apart? 

The Danny back then would have never believed that he would one day be waking up in Duke’s arms in a hotel far away from home, traveling around the country to figure out a future together. 

Or rather, planning their own futures by each other’s sides, rather than planning to be together throughout college. Danny knows they’ll be spending even more years apart, chasing after their dreams, but it’s a gift just to a a summer together again. So what if it leads them to living on opposite sides of the country? They’ve managed to survive a long distance friendship for this long, they can keep it up for another few years.

And if it comes to it, Danny can just fly to wherever Duke is. He’s only gotten faster over the years, settling into his powers and practicing them so often. 

The future is daunting, but all his nerves are chased away by Duke’s smiles. 

“Can’t believe we’re almost done,” Duke says as they get settled at a restaurant in Massachusetts. They’re both tired, but the giddiness of getting together, of knowing their feelings are requited, keeps them energized and happy despite the long drive across state lines. 

“One state left, yeah?”

“Yeah, and I got Harvard first on the list so we can visit Jazz.”

“You’re the best,” Danny grins, stretching his legs out under the table to lightly knock his foot against Duke’s. 

This entire trip has felt like a daydream to him. It’s one thing being able to travel around the country with Duke, but to be able to kiss him wherever they go? Even now, two weeks later, Danny can’t believe how happy he is.

It makes the uncertainty of his future less scary. It helps distract him from how much he wants to escape his parents, despite how much he loves them.

Their conversation comes to a brief pause as a waiter comes by to take their order, writing everything down before hurrying away to keep up with the rush of activity in the semi-busy restaurant. 

“Oh,” Danny says, suddenly remembering the third person in their group, “Is Peter going to be joining us?” 

Peter, Duke’s chaperones, is odd but funny. He disappears and reappears like a magician, always carries a gun on him, and treats Duke like a little brother the rare moments he’s around. He’s mostly only been with them to act as transport, driving them around from university to university. 

Duke’s face does something strange when he hears Peter’s name, but it’s gone before Danny can figure out what that’s all about.

“Nah,” he answers, “He’s off doing his own thing. You’ve seen how he likes to follow his own plans.”

“So I guess we’re stopping here for the day?”

“Yeah. I’m sure we can find somewhere nice to spend the night, and until then we can explore—” Duke takes a quick moment to check the name of the town they’re in, helpfully stated on the restaurant’s wall of five star reviews “—Baldwinville. I’m sure there’s something for us to do around here.”

“I mean, we don’t have to do anything special, you know. I’d be happy to just to spend the day with you.”

Duke smiles softly, reaching over the table to take hold of Danny’s hand. “I’d like that too. Maybe we should just take some time and explore the place together. Have a relaxing day before we head to Cambridge.”

“That’ll be nice. I feel like it’s been forever since I had a quiet day.”

“Same!” Duke laughs. “Gotham’s wild, man. Did I ever tell you the story of having a barbeque with Killer Croc?”

“No! I can’t believe you kept that from me!”

Duke launches into the story as if it’s any other day, just the two of them hanging out. Danny’s enraptured as he always is when Duke shares his Gotham Stories. He doesn’t falter even when their food is brought out, and Danny tries not to blush too hard when Duke feeds Danny some of his meal, just so he can try it. 

There’s a reason Danny sometimes daydreams about what his wedding with Duke will look like, and it’s because of this.

But that’s getting way ahead of himself! He shoves the thoughts away and focuses on the story, enjoying their lunch together. 

Duke pays when they’re done, as has become routine; Danny had fought him about the first few times before Duke told him that it was all ‘Bruce fucking Wayne’s money so they don’t need to worry about costs.’ It’s a gift from the man himself to Duke, and rejecting it would be rude. 

That hit Danny right in his midwestern politeness and he could do nothing but let it happen, already planning thank you gifts for Bruce Wayne. 

They walk out into the quiet streets of Baldwinville, hand in hand. Summer has the air humid and full of buzzing insects, and the sweet scent of flowers surrounds them as they head down the sidewalk, idly looking into the display windows of each store they pass. The buildings are old, mostly made of brick, and carry a charm that’s lacking in the urban sprawl of Amity Park.

He likes it here. 

Honestly, he’s been liking a lot of what he’s seen in Massachusetts. 

He wouldn’t mind spending a few years here as he gets his Bachelor’s degree. Of course, it all depends on if he gets into the colleges of his choice, but he’s feeling hopeful about his future. He’s worked hard to bring his GPA up after his freshman year, and his ability to juggle and extreme workload has made him a master at getting things done before deadlines and adapting to things at the last minute. 

Danny idly swings their clasped hands between them as they walk, savoring the time they have together. 

The end of their summer trip is creeping up on them and Danny can feel the distance between them start to pull tight. 

They don’t speak until they wander into a park, just a large grassy field filled with wildflowers and bees. There are a few benches placed beneath large trees and Duke leads them over to it to take advantage of the offered shade.

“I can’t believe we’re almost done,” Duke says, sitting down with a sigh. He tugs Danny down after him, and Danny goes willingly. He swings his legs up to drop them across Duke’s lap, leaning against him, his heart fluttering when Duke gets a hand around his thigh to keep him in place. 

“I don’t want this summer to end,” Danny admits. “I’m not ready to leave you again.”

“Hey, we’ll figure it out. I’m not going to be away from you any longer than I have to.”

Danny can’t resist the urge to lean over and kiss him, so he doesn’t. Duke meets him with a smile, keeping the kiss slow and sweet, though the way his hand skates up Danny’s thigh sends molten heat through his veins.

He pulls back before they can escalate any further (one time in public was enough; he’s still embarrassed by it and can’t look Peter in the eyes) and leans his head against Duke’s shoulder. “It would be nice if we could live together.”

“Planning out our future already? Well, in that case, I want a dog and a pet snake.”

“Why a pet snake?”

“Just feel like it.”

“A dog would be nice,” Danny says, “As long as it gets along with Cujo. Not sure about the snake, but if you can take care of it, I’d be fine with having it around.”

“Think you’d ever live in Gotham?”

Danny considers, then shrugs. “Maybe. I dunno, it sounds like a lot and I already dealt with so much just with the ghosts in Amity Park. But I don’t think I’d mind if I was with you.”

The smile that crosses Duke’s face is soft and Danny wants to see it all the time. He loves when Duke gets flustered; Danny just turns red and shy, but Duke becomes soft and adoring in a way that makes Danny feel like he’s holding sunlight, all warm and happy.

“We’re getting ahead of ourselves,” Duke says, not yet able to bite back his smile. “Now that we’ve visited most of the places on our list, do you know which ones you’re going to apply to?”

“I’ve got a few ideas,” Danny answers. He’s been thinking about where he wants to go since summer started and he left school with Mr. Lancer reminder everyone to think about college and preparing their applications. 

It’s been a topic that’s never left his mind since for the past couple months, wondering about what the future holds for him. He honestly never thought he’s get this far, having died at 14 and struggled to adapt to how his life changed after. But he’s gotten back on track with school, has a handle on the ghosts, and the support of his parents to go anywhere he wants. 

For so long he’s been stuck in the routine of school, fight, struggle. There was never any time for anything else, much less planning for the future, and now it’s hanging heavy over his head. 

At least he gets to be with Duke as he figures things out. It’s like going back to their childhood, spending summers together, but they’re both grown up now, walking ever closer to the next stages of their lives. 

He’d love to get into MIT, but he knows the chances of being accepted are insanely low. He’ll apply anyways, just in case, but Danny’s prepared to go somewhere else. Maybe somewhere else in Massachusets. Or maybe go to New York. 

“I really liked the Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute. If I get in, I think I’m gonna go there,” Danny says, putting his hopes for the future into words.  

“Yeah? I think I might try to get into a college up here too,” Duke replies. “If things work out, we won’t be so far from each other.”

“And even if we do end up far away again, we can make long distance work. Right?”

There’s a worry in the back of his mind that Duke won’t like a long distance relationship, that he’ll be off in college falling in love with someone else, but there’s barely a second before Duke says, “Of course,” as though it’s obvious. Like he hadn’t considered any other option. 

Danny’s heart settles and he shoves away the rest of his general anxieties. There’s no time for that now! 

He intends to enjoy the rest of his summer trip with Duke to the fullest extent possible, which means all of that is a problem for Future Danny.

“Should we go find Peter? We’ll need to figure out where we’re staying tonight.”

“I think we can go a few more hours to a bigger town,” Duke says, “Not that this place isn’t nice, it’s just too quiet. It’s weird.”

“Alright, city boy,” Danny says, standing up from the bench. He pulls Duke up after him, leaning over to kiss the exaggerated offended expression off his face. It’s not like he’s wrong, anyways; Gotham is a big city, and Duke is an urban boy through and through, especially compared to Danny, who comes from a large town and has family living in reclusive rural Appalachia.

“Small towner,” Duke returns, nipping lightly at Danny’s bottom lip and laughing when he squeaks in surprise.

He pulls away before Danny can retaliate, and Danny lets him go, saving his revenge for after they get to their next hotel. 

Their time together is coming to an end soon, and as much as the future terrifies and excites him in equal measure, knowing Duke will be with him, one way or another, gives him the courage to keep going.

He hopes Jazz will be happy that Duke’s dating him now. He’s already hoping to ask her to be a bridesmaid for him.

[randomimaginesideas]

In the end we're all alone (Valtor x reader) One shot

Summary;  You are Bloom’s sister, despite not being the keeper of the dragon flame, you are a strong fairy with passion in your heart. But fire is all consuming, and can leave ugly scars in one’s mind. But when you come across a person who knows just how to add fuel to the fire, can you resist or do you destroy everything you love?

A/N; Remember when I said that I would post a one-shot a couple of weeks ago in that same week. Well, it’s a bit later but it’s here.

Somebody asked me if they could request a Valtor x reader, and I said yes. I liked the idea, and that’s where this fic came from. To keep the surprise on what will happen in this one shot I made a brief summary. 

Trigger warnings; Manipulative Valtor, slight stalking, jealousy, open ending

Most people would be overjoyed when it turns out that one of their lost sisters returns to you after so many years. And don’t get me wrong, at first I was overjoyed. The day Faragonda had called me to her office, and announced that Bloom had returned to Magix. She had been hiding on Earth. Or rather, she had grown up there, unaware of the power she held, and the history of her family. Our family, and we are the only two left of Domino. 

Bloom was a few minutes older than me, making her the keeper of the dragon flame. Our big sister Daphne had saved us both when Domino was attacked. The difference being that she had sent me to Faragonda, knowing that the Ancestral Witches probably wouldn’t come after me since I held no real power. At least no power like the dragon flame. To hide Bloom from the witches she had sent Bloom to earth, a magic-less place. Faragonda sent me to live with a family on Solaria, knowing the family would take good care of me. My adoptive parents were kind and gentle people, who raised me as if I were their own, and told me, along with Faragonda, the truth about my heritage. And then it was time for me to go to Alfea, where a few days later I discovered my sister was alive. 

And like I mentioned, at first I was overjoyed not being the sole survivor of Domino, and Bloom was a nice girl, who accepted me for who I was. We lived comfortably, she had her own friends, the Winx club, and I had my own. But things started to go downhill very quickly. I am not a jealous person by nature, but when your sister becomes the center of attention, the most important person in the whole magic dimension thoughts will get the better of you. Because in the end, I was just the fairy of fire, nowhere near powerful enough to compete with Bloom. Everything took a turn for the worst when Bloom and I had to duel in a battle, to test our strength. She was able to easily take me out, her dragon flame consuming my own. It was until after the battle, and she had received all the compliments she had gotten that she bothered to ask if I was alright. 

I started hanging out with Bloom and her friends more, losing touch with my own. I just wanted to have with Bloom did, a close friend group who stood by each other no matter what, and maybe show that I was strong, like she was. The winx accepted me easily as I was Bloom’s sister, and a sister of Bloom was a friend of theirs. But maybe it was the fact that I wanted to be accepted, that I didn’t notice the distance there still was between the rest of the winx and me. That they weren’t really my friends. 

But even though I was jealous, she was still my sister. So when she was kidnapped by Lord Darkar I didn’t hesitate to offer the winx my help to save her. During the fight the Trix had been able to beat me, not without a fight, but even with my Charmix they had been able to defeat me. I had been separated from the winx, and saw my chance to flee from the Trix who decided they had more important things to attend to. That’s when I stumbled through Darkar’s library. The books screamed dark magic, but they also screamed power. The moment I had picked up a book I felt the power surge through me, promising everything that I was and could be. I admit, I was weak. The promise of becoming stronger, of being worthy of my sister made the decision for me. With a spell I had learned when I was younger, I transported multiple books to a box in my dorm room, which only I got open with a spell. It’s where I kept my most prized possessions.

The winx, and mostly Sky, managed to save Bloom from Darkars hold. That night, I snuck into the woods outside of Alphea with a book in hand, and tried out my first dark spell. It felt wrong, my body felt wrong, as if it was pushing me to stop trying, but I was determined, and when the spell finally worked the impact it had on the trees surrounding me was far greater than any other spell I had. And that was when the first seed had been planted in my brain. I could do this, I could become stronger than I was now. And so I practiced. 

***

It didn’t take long for another villain to rise up, and claim power over the magic dimension. This time it was a man by the name of Valtor, a powerful sorcerer, set on becoming stronger and taking over the magic dimension. He had escaped the omega dimension together with the Trix, and had taken over Andros. The Winx had made this elaborate plan to go to Andros and face Valtor, leaving Stella behind to create a diversion at the school. I came along, as Layla had always been one of the nicer Winx to me, and I didn’t want the same thing to happen to Andros, as it had with Domino. 

After traveling to Andros, fighting the enslaved mermaids, and finding out the Trix had escaped the omega dimension as well, I found myself holding my sister as the platform raised from the ground. Icy had attacked her in the back, the rest of the winx immediately started fighting her, but I flew after my sister as I watched her hit the water and I dived in after her. Water dripped down the columns of the ruined castle, as I assumed it had been just that, and from the edge a man appeared.

I had to admit that at first glance the man was a beautiful sight. He was tall, a lot taller than I was even in my heels. His long golden hair looked sleek and well kept, and he had this dangerous aura around him, tempting just like the books in the Dark Phoenix library had. Everything about the man screamed at me that I should run away, that he was dangerous, but another part, the same part that had made me pick up the Dark books, wanted to talk to the man, find out more about him. But his predatory gaze on my sister told me I had to hold him back. 

My eyes glanced in the direction of the winx, who were too caught up in battle to watch me, or Bloom. “Dark fire.” I whispered as I held out my hand in Valtor’s direction, as to not draw attention to the dark spell I just cast. A smirk came on the man’s face as he easily held out his hand and caught the fire ball, with purple flames, in his hand and extinguished it. “Nice trick, but I can do better.” Was all he said before he held out his hand again, and the same fireball came back at me, knocking me in the chest and off the platform. 

Musa was the one to get me out of the water, and was able to cover my eyes just in time as a bright light came from the platform my sister and Valtor had just been standing on. When the light faded we all flew down to the platform. I was glad to see my sister was safe and sound, even though I was jealous sometimes. I didn’t want anything bad to happen to her, but Layla was a different case. Valtor hadn’t only taken her planet from her, but her eyesight as well. 

***

Valtor watched, arms folded together, as he stood in front of his scrying orb. Inside he could see the image of the little fire fairy. It wasn’t the redhead who held the dragon flame, although he kept a close eye on her as well. No, tonight the object of his interests was Bloom’s younger sister. 

Valtor couldn’t say for certain if she was part of their so-called Winx club. He had only seen her once, and now as he looked into the orb he could see a distance between the girls. Standing off to the side of the room, leaning against a table, while the others were gathered in the middle of the room, lying on the couch in their pajamas. “We’ll find a way to get your eyesight back, Aisha. And we won’t rest until you will.”

“What are you looking at?” Icy’s voice caught Valtor’s attention, glancing over his shoulders to see the Trix walk in. They’d just gotten back from a mission he’d send them on to Andros to cause trouble, to let them give their new powers a try. Before Valtor could answer Darcy had made her way towards the scrying orb. “What do you want with her?” She asked, curious as to why the orb would be following the spare domino princess as she walked towards her room.

Valtor could see the remaining two sisters also look into his orb. “Yeah, is one domino princess not enough for you?” Stormy commented, which earned her a glare from Valtor, but also from her sisters. 

“Not that it is any of your business, but this little fairy caught my attention the last time we fought.” Valtor waved his hand over the orb, and in it came the memory he had of standing on that platform, the fireball infused with dark magic - indicated from the purple glow coming from the flames-  coming towards him. “A fairy using dark magic?” Icy asked skeptically, as walked closer to the orb. The memory fading, and going back to present time where the fire fairy had made her way towards her bedroom, and towards a chest on the foot of her bed. 

The four of them watched as the fire fairy opened the chest with a spell and proceeded to grab a few books out of it. She placed them all around her, and then grabbed a notebook she also had in the chest. It was clear that she was translating some of the ancient books, or writing down the spells so she wouldn’t have to transfer the whole book with her. “Huh, don’t those books look familiar to you, sisters?” Darcy commented as she glanced at the rest of the Trix. Valtor briefly looked up from the orb, before returning his gaze back to it.

“Yeah, you think this little fairy is a little thief as well as just an overall nuisance?” Icy replied. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.” Valtor let the orb some in closer, to see the contents of the books more clearly. He knew that the Trix had worked for Darkar before him, and that the temple had been destroyed. He also knew that the Winx were the reason Darkar had died. He hadn’t expected a fairy to take some of the spell books the Dark Phoenix had in possession. Spells he could very well use himself, if only to make sure nobody else had them. It did explain how the fairy was able to cast the spell she did. Valtor felt himself getting deep in thought as the Trix continued their conversation.

“I’ve never seen a fairy use dark magic with her own free will.”

“Desperate sounds more like it.”

“What, are you surprised? You know how much she wants to be like Bloom. Now she’s even turning to dark magic like Bloom did.”

Valtor’s head snapped up, looking directly at Stormy. “What did you say?” Stormy felt herself getting nervous under Valtor’s piercing gaze. Not sure if the look Valtor was giving her was because he was angry, or curious. She sometimes found his emotions difficult to read. 

“Uhm, she’s turning to dark magic like Bloom did.” If Valtor was surprised by that fact his face didn’t show it. “When?” Was all he asked.

The Trix continued to explain about how Darker had captured Bloom by using one of his henchmen to infiltrate Alfea. And how Darkar casted something he called ‘enchanted darkness’ over Bloom's heart, resulting in her switching sides. They mentioned how much stronger she was then compared to her now, and that the Winx only managed to get her back to her normal self because of; “ugh…friendship and love.”

As Valtor heard the story he watched the second living domino princess, as she was alone in her room, making notes of the spellworks while the Winx were still where they had been previously, all together. “Something tells me that won’t be a problem here.”

***

A couple days had passed since that day on Andros when I’d seen Valtor. Aisha had even gotten her Enchantix and eyesight back all in the span of a few days. Luckily all in time for the party that would be happening on Eraklyon. Even as a child I had been invited to attend some of the more high end parties, seeing as I was still a princess of Domino. The invite was more of a formality, as there was no Domino more I would have been representing. But now Bloom also got invited to these types of parties. Me and Stella had helped Bloom the first time she had to attend one of these types of celebrations, and how the proceedings would go.

Bloom knew that I would still get an invite to the party, and I suppose it was kind of her to invite me along when Sky dropped by to bring the winx their personal invitations. But I couldn’t help but feel the small sting that act caused me. Did Bloom really think that I wouldn’t go to the party if she didn’t ask me to tag along? Or did she assume I wouldn’t get one because she was the keeper of the dragon flame? 

I tried not to let my mind get the better of me regarding the situation. Bloom had a lot of things on her mind, perhaps she had forgotten that the two of them would have gotten an invitation regardless.

To keep my mind off the situation I had brought my notebook with me towards the forest surrounding Alfea. I had spent the last couple of days in the woods during nightfall. One of the new spells I’d learned let me sneak back into Alfea without Griselda noticing, so I had more time to study. Every time I returned from the woods I felt stronger, and I was sure that the next time Bloom and I were put together to duel in class I would win despite her having the power of the dragon flame.

I ended up in the open meadow a bit farther from the school grounds where I had been practicing almost every night. I pulled my notebook from the bag I had been carrying with me, and made it float in the air, pages open and on eyesight. Rereading the spell, and studying the drawings of the hand movements that I had made earlier, I focused on a nearby tree. “Withering fire.” Black smoke shot from my hands reaching the tree. As the smoke consumed the tree I could see the leaves turning brown, and the tree bark shriveling and falling off the tree.

“Impressive.”  Startled, I turned around, my hand still raised in the direction the face had come from. I found Valtor leaning against a tree, his arms crossed casually in front of him. “Valtor.” I said, keeping my hand raised. “You remembered my name. Impressive.” He replied nonchalantly, pushing himself away from the tree and sauntering towards me

“What do you want? The winx aren’t here so you’re out of luck.” I retorted, earning a chuckle from Valtor. His head tilted slightly to the side, as if in pity. “Is that what you assume of everyone? That they come to you for the Winx? No, my dear. I’m here for you actually.” I just looked at him skeptically, waiting for the Trix to arrive any minute and attack me. “Your little trick the other day caught my attention. It’s not often a fairy throws dark magic at your face.” 

“There is more where that came from.” I answered, proud that my voice didn’t betray the fear I was feeling. Because just as he had remembered she had thrown dark magic around I remembered how well he had been able to reduce her spell to nothing. “How hostile, and here I thought you fairies were all about love and peace.” He countered right back. I couldn't help the humorless laugh that escaped my mouth. “As you’ve perhaps noticed I’m not like most fairies.”

Valtor’s expression darked, a predatory smile coming onto his face. Goosebumps started on my skin as he looked at me like that. As if I was the prey who had walked right into his trap, and he had me cornered, just the way he had wanted too. “Funny you should mention that because it is exactly the reason why I am here.”

Valtor snapped his fingers, and feet started to get heavier like my muscles and bones were turning into stone, keeping me locked in place. “Hey, what are you,-” Valtor disappeared in front of me, and before I knew it I could feel his presence behind me but with my feet locked to the ground I couldn’t turn around. One of his gloved hands reached for my hair and pushed it over one shoulder so it was out of the way as he leaned closer and whispered into my ear.

“You impress me. A powerful fairy like you I could use by my side. Imagine all the things you would be capable of doing. You think you learn from those books you keep locked in your room, but I will show you what real power is like.” Along with the goosebumps a shiver ran down her spine. How did he know she kept those books in her room? Had he been spying on her? And if he knew this about her, what else did he know? Not about her but about the winx as well.

And I hated to admit it that his offer was tempting. She had seen the power Valtor was capable off and the possibility of him teaching her was very tempting. But I also knew that it wouldn’t last. The good would always win from the bad. And as long as she remained on the good side, she could dip her toe in the bad, even if just for a few dark spells. But if she would betray the wink, she would close that door forever. She would never fit in with them, and she would lose her sister all over again.

“No. No, you don’t mean that. You just want to use me like you use everybody else. And the moment you’re gone I will tell Miss Faragonda and the Winx you were here and they will get you.” Valtor laughed as he stepped away from behind her and into her view again, still laughing. “And what will you tell them you were doing out here? The truth? That you are secretly a user of dark magic, the magic that is currently destroying most of their home planets. I think you keep forgetting that the winx’s are Bloom’s friends, not yours. To them you are just an extra, a charity case to keep around.”

I flinched at this words, but I tried not to let them get to me. “They will see that I was just trying to protect myself, protect them.” I tried to reason, but Valtor just shook his head. “You keep telling yourself that. My offer still stands, but I think it’s time for you to figure out what you really want.” And with that he disappeared again, and the spell on my legs disappeared.

I sank through my knees, tears gathering in the corners of my eyes. Figure out what you really want he’d said.

“I just don’t want to be alone anymore.” I whispered crying into the dark. 

[pedrithink]

love is not easy (2) ✩ kylian mbappé

summary: everything seems more difficult when you are the shadow of your older sister and Kylian and her are in love with each other.

notes: don’t worry, it will have a part 3 (with happy ending) :)

@nightlockcornucopia @gaviandgrizisgirl @blubffsd @philipetchebest @sunnytkm23 @topguncultleader @http-isabela @bisexualbith @laylaynaynay130 @lovekm

(part 1) / (part 3)

Ky <3: Hey, are we going out tonight? There's a new pizza restaurant that opened and I want to eat all the new flavors with you.

You: I can't today, sorry.

Ky <3: Oh.

Ky <3: Another time then.

Ky <3: HEEEY, pretty. I have tickets to see the Beauty and the Beast musical. Let's go?

You: Hey, Ky. Sorry, but I have to review for the exam.

Ky <3: Oh, got it.

Ky <3: How about we go for some sushi tonight?

You: I've already made an appointment with a friend :/ Maybe another day. Seen.

Ky <3: Ice cream Saturday?

You: Not today, Kylian.

You: Sorry!

Ky <3: What's your problem?

Ky <3: I've been calling you out almost every weekend and you don't even make a point to set aside ONE DAY to be with me.

Ky <3: If I did something at least tell me so I can fix it, but don't leave me in the dark. It hurts.

You: I'm sorry, Ky. You didn't do anything, I'm just full of things to do.

You: Call Ana, I'm sure she'd be up for it.

Ky <3: What the fuck? I don't want to go out with Ana, I want to go out with YOU.

Ky <3: Is that so hard to understand?

You: I'll talk to you later, Ky. I need to get back to studying.

You turn off your phone and take a deep breath. Kylian has noticed your behavior and knowing you well, he won't settle down until he knows what's really going on. You understand the frustration he's been feeling because you've shared an 11-year friendship and you don't want it to end. You just need some time for your thoughts to reorganize themselves and for the loving feelings about Kylian to disappear from your mind.

Your thoughts disperse when you hear some knocking at the door and the figure of Ana appears. "Can we talk?"

You frown and take care to agree with a brief nod.

"It's just that you haven't been the same…I don't know." Ana says with a frustrated tone of voice, she makes clear when she lets out a sigh. "Did I do something? If I did I'm sorry, but I don't want to see you away from me. It's always been the two of us together against everything after we moved away from Mom and Dad."

You feel a huge weight on your shoulders for having made Ana imagine she did something, she is your best friend, but you just needed some time to yourself. That's all. "Ana, no. You didn't do anything, I swear. I'm just really busy with college."

Ana walks over and sits on the edge of the bed. "I know it's not just that.” Ana stares at you intently. "Kylian texted me that you haven't had a Saturday night together in almost two months, and it's been a tradition since you guys were 14." You take a deep breath and try not to feel bad about it. "What about that day at the breakfast? And seriously, you ALWAYS have something to say over breakfast." She lets another sigh fall from her lips and affirms. "I just want you to know that if anything is going on, you can count on me. You'll always have my support, always."

You throw your weight on top of Ana and remain hugging her for a few minutes. "I know that and thank you for everything." You hold her hands. "I guess…I don't know. I just need some time to myself, you know?"

She smiles and nods. There is no reality that you don't love Ana, she is your best friend and best partner in crime there could be. Since you moved to Paris, away from your parents, you have witnessed every good and bad moment together. You need her as much as she needs you.

After this conversation you had, Ana had to leave for some things at work, and you decided to finish an article for college. You had so much to do that you felt a little lost.

Halfway through your article, you hear the doorbell ringing and get up, a little confused, to answer it. Who would it be at 6:30 PM on a Saturday? Ana had the key, so you couldn't think of anyone else. Until you answered and found yourself face to face with a Kylian Mbappé with two pizza boxes and a mischievous smile on his face.

"Since you are running away from me, I decided to come after you." You widen your eyes a little and let a surprised expression take over your face. "Aren't you going to let me in?"

You, still a little stunned, to let Kylian go into the apartment. He faces you and watches your expression. "Aren't you going to tell me anything?"

"I don't know, Ky. I'm just a little surprised you're here unannounced." You say following his figure as he walks over to leave the pizza boxes on the kitchen counter.

Kylian turns to you. "Well, if I said something, you'd make up some other nonsense just to get out of answering me."

"That's not true…I'm just busy with college." You swallow dryly and try to help him get plates and cutlery. "What do you want to talk about?"

Kylian washes his hands at the kitchen sink and turns a little sideways to face you. "You're the one who should tell me, aren't you?" He says with a tired tone. "What's going on? And don't lie to me, that's all I ask."

You wait for him to finish washing his hands and move over to wash yours. "I don't know, Kylian. I guess I just needed some time to myself."

"Does that time mean without me?" Kylian lets a sad look take over the face you love so much and his tone of voice…sounded so brittle that you tried to explain yourself.

"No one, Kylian. I can't explain, I just…" You turn to him and make it clear that the problem is not him. "I've been feeling weird about everything and I just need to figure myself out, the problem isn't you or Ana, it's me. I'm the one who has to sort out my thoughts and I don't want to hurt you with my crazy head."

You bow your head after talking a bit about how you feel and Kylian tries to take both your hands and bring them close to his chest, you could feel every beat of his heart through your fingertips. "It was always you and me against the world, remember? When I lost my ground during the World Cup you held me by the arms and were my greatest source of strength." He pulls you close to him and fits his hands to your face. "Don't leave me in the dark, I'll take it if it's just to stand beside you in silence. But please don't push me away. Because I don't know what to do without you."

You let an exasperated sigh escape your lips and can only nod at him as you stare into those dark eyes. Your heart just wants to scream at him, "I love you. And I could never imagine someone with such intimacy and intensity, I didn't even know I had the capacity to love someone so much," but your brain commands you to push him away so that you don't suffer from the 99% chance that he will say he doesn't feel the same way.

Kylian pushes away this direct contact between you and pulls you over so that you both can sit and enjoy pizza together, like every Saturday of every month. Saturday was the sacred day for you to reserve a moment to spend together. It was always like this, you together against the fucking world.

You try to concentrate on what Kylian is saying, you really try. But, it seems your mind just tells you to throw the weight off your shoulder and tell him you love him. You hold on for a few more minutes, but you can't. You've tried.

"Hey, can you hear me?" You lift your gaze to him and whisper a "Kylian…", he just lets out a "Hm?" and lets his gaze fall to your trembling hands under the table.

Kylian takes your hands and lets a look of concern assume his face. Just as he was about ready to say something, you let go like a bomb about to explode. "I love you."

Kylian understands the way you mean it. You have already said "I love you" to each other, but he knew this time was different. He knew it from the way your hands trembled, the way your eyes filled with tears, and the way your voice sounded pleadingly. He knew.

"And I know it may sound crazy, but…it's been like this for 8 years and I can't hold it in anymore." Your voice sounds brittle and you try to hold back your tears, but two escape from your eyes. You close your eyes tightly to try to pull yourself together and continue, "I promised myself that this would never leave my thoughts, that it would be the single most intense secret I would ever keep from you. I just… love you. They say that true love transforms. How then could I doubt that you are my one, great love? You transformed and continue to transform everything in here. You gave me the joy of living, the pleasure of loving. I hope I can give you back at least a drop of the ocean of happiness that you have brought me since you came into my life. Even if it was unconsciously, you gave me the most beautiful way to love someone and I just want to thank you for it."

Kylian stands stunned in front of you and stares at every tiny part of your face, he doesn't know what to say and doesn't know how to act. He just stands there with his breathing fast and shallow, he didn't expect this and you know it.

You just hold his hands and smile weakly. This hurts more than anything you have ever witnessed in your life, but at the same time it is a relief that this weight is off your shoulders after so long. "Hey…" You whisper with a smile that hurts more than a knife through the heart. "It's okay. You don't have to say anything, just go home."

"But what about you?" That's the only thing he can think to say after you unleash a baggage of feelings on him and it makes you smile in the truest possible way.

"I just need a little time to think about everything and so do you, but know that nothing will change between you and me." You pull his body to the door and hand him his cell phone that was lying on the table in the living room.

After Kylian leaves you can only put your hand over your mouth and try to hold back a loud cry, you can only feel a burning in your chest and the pain of knowing that things will never be the same. To love and not be loved hurts, and it's not that pain that you take medicine and it goes away, it's the pain of the soul.

Ana comes home and almost gets into despair after seeing you like that, she can only take you in her arms and hug you to see if she can stop that painful crying that makes you shiver and your chest hurt.

You finally gave up this war and it hurts more than if he had screamed in your face that he would never be able to love you like that.

Kylian leaves the apartment with his heart racing and unable to think straight. When he gets home, all he can think about is "what have I done?" He should have spoken what has been in his heart for years, he just couldn't. He just couldn't react. He stood there and left you with a feeling of sadness, a torn heart and the thought that you were not loved back.

[morning-star-joy]

and I'll never see you again if I can help it

a stranger's heart without a home Chapter 6

Pairing: rivals to friends with benefits Joel x F!Reader, Post-Outbreak

Chapter Summary: You and Joel fall into a temporary truce after your patrol. At Tommy's urging, you go out for drinks with the two brothers. When you and Joel find yourselves alone after, the tension between you continues to rise until it snaps again.

Chapter Warnings: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) Mutual Masturbation, Unprotected p in v sex, Drunk Sex, Dirty Talk, Brief Mention of Masturbation (f), References to Previous Smut, Language, Alcohol Use, the sexist asshole from Chapter 3 makes a reappearance & tries to sl*t shame Reader but gets put in his place by both Reader and Joel, Brief Bar Fight, Mild Description of a Shallow Cut/Injury Treatment

A/N: Translation: Qué mala eres = You're so bad (ty to my wife @cynibuns for helping with the translation ily here's your writing cred)! Also, Chapter 14 will be up on ao3 tomorrow! Most likely evening-ish PST when I get home from being out of town. Hope you’re all having a lovely weekend!

Wordcount: 10.4k

chapter 1 || chapter 5 || chapter 6 || masterlist

ao3 link

The severity of the tension between you and Joel lightened, if only slightly.

You wouldn’t say he treated you warmly now, but the harshness of the chill he regarded you with did lessen. Joel would greet you when he saw you now, either with a slight nod or your name spoken as an acknowledgement. You returned the niceties with your own, and even though they were simple, they lessened a burden you hadn’t realized you had felt since the man returned to town.

Tommy was happy about this perceived change in your relationship with his brother, to say the least. If you and Joel found yourself in the rare circumstance that you were seated next to each other for a meal and not biting each other’s heads off, it felt like Tommy would appear out of nowhere to slap you both on the back in barely contained glee.

“We gotta go out for drinks tonight,” he would say with a grin, to which Joel shook his head to himself and you laughed disbelievingly.

“Maybe when the kid is old enough to come with us,” you would remark cheekily, referring to the latest addition to the Miller family, knowing from how you remained Joel’s patrol partner that the bundle of joy still needed both parents around to help.

Those patrols with Joel weren’t as awkward as they were before, either. There wasn’t much more talking between you, but you fell into step with each other easier, taking out both Infected and the occasional bandits with less difficulty.

While it wasn’t the same as your familiar contest with Tommy, your traded banter with Eugene or your mentorship with Jesse, you found yourself actually coming to appreciate the steadfastness of Joel’s presence when he rode and fought beside you. When he wasn’t treating you with such extreme disdain, you could almost understand why Tommy was so fond of his brother.

Almost.

Joel still irritated you. He was just as gruff and rude as ever, even if he wasn’t as antagonistic towards you as before. If you would try and crack a joke, he would just stare at you until either you awkwardly coughed, or he just shook his head and looked away. If you would try and ask him questions, he would give you short, one-word answers that got you nowhere.

He still annoyed you. Especially when his hand would brush against yours as he handed you some rations. Or when he stood so close you could smell the earthy, heady scent that made your head spin. Or when you would feel him watching your ass as he boosted you up to an area you couldn’t reach, but looked away quickly whenever you glanced back at him to try and catch him in the act.

Joel was still a bastard, because he wouldn’t say anything about those moments. But later you would replay them in your mind, helpless to the memory it brought to the forefront of your mind, unable to suppress it any longer.

It was embarrassing, how often you had slipped your hand between your legs as you thought of Joel at night. In the back of your mind, you could almost remember the feeling of his fingers playing with you instead. You would try to relive how it had felt for those fingers to be rubbing your clit and thrusting in and out of you. You would visualize being bent over your own kitchen counter as he fucked you against it, moaning into your pillow as you made yourself cum again and again just from the memory of his touch.

That memory almost felt like a hallucination, the fact that you had actually had sex with the grizzled, stoic survivor seeming more like a fever dream than reality. At times you were certain you really had just dreamt it. But then you would remember the morning Joel had passed by you as you sat on your porch, drinking coffee from an engraved mug, and how fast he had looked away as his steps quickened past your picket fence.

Oh, so he does remember, you had realized as you hid a smirk behind another sip of your coffee, glad you had been sitting outside that morning to catch his reaction to you drinking from that mug.

It was infuriating, because that heat that simmered between the two of you was still there, even as you both tried your best to ignore it in the light of day. What you did with yourself at night with the memory of him, however, was your secret alone.

And that was fine. You were finally settling back into the calm that Jackson offered. Those hiccups Joel had thrown into your practiced routine were smoothing over with the strange, unspoken truce between the two of you.

But then that was also ruined, the night Tommy actually did manage to take you both out for those drinks.

Your discomfort at the situation was matched only by Joel’s as Tommy shoved whiskey filled glasses into his hand and then yours. You shot a glance at Joel from the corner of your eye, watching as the man lifted a shoulder in a resigned shrug before tossing back the shot, followed by Tommy and then you.

Tommy’s joy as he ordered another round was almost infectious, a smile tugging at your lips as you glanced over The Tipsy Bison to see it busier than it was most nights. Either the warmer weather was brightening everyone’s spirits, or they all just had the same spontaneous burst of energy that Tommy had when he showed up on your doorstep to drag you out with him. Joel had been standing behind him, looking more uncomfortable than you had ever seen him as he looked anywhere but at you while you stood in your doorway.

The second sign that your fever dream of him was real, and that he remembered it just as much as you did.

“So,” Tommy sighed after knocking back another shot, placing his cup down and grabbing the bottle of whiskey the bartender had left to make refills easier for the three of you. After refilling his glass, Tommy turned back to you and Joel with an easy grin. “I’ve heard good things about your patrols.”

Neither you nor Joel said anything as Tommy sipped from his glass, waiting for you to reply. Which you didn’t.

“Guess you don’t hate each other as much as you thought,” he teased, waiting to see if he could get a reaction out of either of you.

You merely shrugged, and Joel took another sip of his whiskey.

Tommy sighed, shaking his head as he picked up the bottle to refill your glass once you finished it off.

“Well you're both chatterboxes, aren’t you?” he muttered, shooting you both a bemused look, though it held a fondness to it. “Can’t imagine all the riveting conversations you must have on those patrols.”

You glanced at Joel as you sipped at your refilled drink. Neither of you had spoken about the heated argument and ugly words you had thrown at each other during your patrol to the ski lodge, or the panic attack that he had witnessed you having. 

The latter you figured he avoided mentioning out of some kind of understanding. You remembered seeing him stumble out of the bar last winter, how he had leaned against the frozen pillar for support. How you had approached him to put a hand on his shoulder, just as he had done to you, even as you both flinched away from being touched during your respective moments of anxiety.

But the argument, you weren’t sure why Joel never brought up again. He had made his opinion of you and your history with the Fireflies, his disdain for the tattoo on your skin, quite clear. Whenever you felt confused on how he had seemed to just let it go, you remembered that look he had given you when the storm had begun to clear outside; the realization you weren’t privy to passing over his face before he offered an olive branch in reaching out his hand to help you up, an unspoken peace offering you had accepted. You didn't know what had spurred him on to extend that unspoken understanding that had settled the disdain-fueled friction between you, but you figured maybe it was also the reason why he never brought up the argument again. 

Your name being spoken pulled you out of your internal monologue, and you turned your head to see Tommy looking at you, brows furrowed in puzzlement.

“Hm?” you hummed, about to take a sip from your drink before you realized it was empty.

Tommy reached out for the bottle again, whiskey pouring into your glass as his brow smoothed out and he smiled cheekily at you. A glint of mischief was in his eye, a flush from alcohol tinting his cheeks.

Oh, this was either going to be very good, or you weren’t going to like this at all.

“When are you finally gonna let me set you up with someone?”

You coughed, holding a fist up to cover your mouth as you nearly choked on your whiskey.

“Sorry?” you spluttered, baffled at the sudden topic change as Tommy’s smirk widened, and you felt a heavy gaze settle on you from your other side.

“Come on,” Tommy drawled, his voice playfully boisterous as he leaned back against the bar. “Having somebody is great! And I haven’t seen you with a beau since the moment I met you.”

A laugh escaped you, turning into a fit of disbelieving cackling spurred on from the whiskey as you shook your head at your friend.

“If Dina hasn’t gotten anywhere in that hopeless endeavor, neither are you,” you teased, your laughter doubling at the playful roll of his eyes.

“Qué mala eres." The Spanish rolled off his tongue in a sigh, the language slip a sign that the alcohol was going to his head, and you sighed as you threw back another shot. “You’re missing out, my friend.”

Your head shook, looking away from Tommy only when the weight of the stare on your back had become so heavy that you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

When you turned back to Joel, though, his eyes had already moved away, scanning the crowd in the bar as he sipped silently at the whiskey glass in his large hand.

You blamed it on the effect of the alcohol as you observed how the lights of the bar seemed to brighten the brown hue of Joel’s eyes, making them appear a lighter color than how dark they usually looked. Despite your better judgment that told you to look away, your gaze followed the line of his nose down to his lips as he drank his whiskey, and you couldn’t help but wonder for a moment what it would feel like to have those lips pressed to your own, the one thing that he had denied you when he had fucked you.

His tongue darted out to lick at the drops of liquor on his lips. Desire pooled between your legs as you looked back up, and you jumped when you saw his gaze was fixed on you.

Oh, fuck, you thought to yourself, that desire intensifying as he arched a brow at you, and you realized that he had caught you looking.

Had caught you wanting.

Your hand tightened on your glass, glaring up at him even as his lips twitched into an almost imperceptible smirk.

But it was there.

And it was satisfied.

That damn, nearly unnoticeable smirk made your cunt throb as you realized that you still wanted him. And judging from the look he fixed you with now, maybe Joel still wanted you too.

You looked away hastily, knocking the rest of your whiskey back right as Tommy spoke up again. 

“So, big brother, how’d your date with Esther go?”

Whiskey got stuck in your throat as you choked, coughing as you lowered the glass, and Tommy’s hand began to thud on your back to help you clear your throat.

“You okay?” you heard him ask, and you nodded, clearing your throat of the more intense burn the alcohol had left as it didn’t go down your throat as smoothly as it was supposed to.

“Yeah,” you croaked, shaking your head with another cough as you waved your hand dismissively. “Yeah, I’m good.”

You ignored the looks each brother was giving you as you stared straight ahead, refusing to look at either in protection of your own pride as Joel asked Tommy, “What’d you say?”

The question made you bristle, something in his tone telling you that Joel knew exactly what Tommy had asked, but wanted that line of conversation to continue.

Or maybe the whiskey was just going to your head, you thought as you turned back around to the bar and grabbed the bottle to refill your glass.

“Esther!” Tommy said brightly, and you held your glass a bit too hard. “How’d it go? Did you like her?”

Joel shrugging caught your attention, and you looked back to see he was looking out of the corner of his eye at you, before he looked away and replied to Tommy, “Yeah, she’s nice.”

You turned back to your glass, taking the whole shot before refilling it again.

“She has a great sense of humor,” you heard Joel add, your fingers tapping impatiently on the counter as you chewed on the inside of your cheek.

“See, I told you!” Tommy’s voice was full of excitement, even as your mood continued to worsen the more information was revealed about Joel’s apparent fucking date. “I knew you’d like her. You’re a good match.”

Another shot was knocked back in one smooth motion before you spun around to face the brothers again.

Joel went on a fucking date. 

Joel “I’m not sticking around here”, doesn’t-want-a-relationship fucking Miller went on a fucking date.

The thought made you bristle with anger, even though you knew it shouldn’t. It made you mad because, fuck, going on a date meant that he might be getting his dick wet with other women, when he had already fucked you and was looking at you with that dark, sultry gaze earlier as he licked his lips and fuck.

It took you a moment before you noticed that the attention of both Miller men was on you, and you realized slowly that the expletive had actually left your mouth instead of just staying in your mind, interrupting whatever they had been discussing now.

You looked from Tommy’s confused expression to Joel’s blank one, the slight curl of his lip that he hid behind his whiskey glass telling you all you needed to know as your gaze shot out towards the room.

Over in the corner of the bar, Gustavo was playing his trusty banjo with a few other musicians. A small group of residents, friends and couples, were dancing in an open space next to them.

A smile grew on your lips as you slammed your empty glass back down on the counter, sending Joel and Tommy an easy grin while you walked backwards away from them.

“If you’ll excuse me, boys,” you drawled, giving them an over-dramatic flourish of a bow, one you thought Dina would be proud of, “I’m going to go dance.” 

Your smile melted into a smirk, your gaze lingering on Joel for a second too long before turning around and confidently making your way to the area where people were dancing.

The shots were definitely going to your head, but you found it hard to care where the music was louder. It didn’t take long before you were swept up in a dance, spun around in the arms of a man whose name you couldn’t remember. It wasn't often that you allowed yourself to let your hair down like this, but the rhythm of the music, the fast pace of the dance, and the alcohol dulling your thoughts made the memories you always tried so hard to forget fade further into the background.

And if the carefree feeling from dancing wasn’t making you laugh, then it was the feeling of a heated stare fixed on your back as you giggled and turned through the steps of the lively dance.

You could feel his eyes on you, and even though you didn't look back towards him as you danced, you knew it was him. That intensity was unmistakable, familiar now in its weight as it focused on you, even as you weren't looking directly at him. It spurred you on, getting closer to your dance partner than was necessary, and relishing in the feeling of that stare sharpening on your steps as you did so.

After a few songs you were starting to feel too hot, too dizzy to continue this charade. Exchanging lighthearted bows with your dance partner, you laughed a bit more before backing away. While you had approached the dancing with an ulterior motive—one that seemed to have been successful, judging by the gaze you could feel on you throughout the dances—you found that you had actually enjoyed yourself, your head clearer and heart more carefree than you had felt in ages as you tried to find where you had left the Miller brothers.

“Whore,” a voice pretended to cough as you passed by a table, and you paused.

You turned slowly, that rare happiness you had felt evaporating as you looked back to find a face you had a hard time placing a name to. He looked a little younger than you, his features weaselly as he held back a snicker, surrounded by a group of a few other stupid looking young men.

“Excuse m—”

“What was that?”

Your own voice was interrupted by another, one lower and more menacing than your own, coming from some place close behind you. 

Glancing back over your shoulder, you saw Joel had found you before you could find him. His face was carefully devoid of any telling emotion as he stared past you at the man who had apparently just majorly fucked up by calling you a whore.

You looked back as the man shifted, seeming unsettled by Joel’s presence, and then it clicked. This was that bastard that you had been drinking with last winter, the one who Joel had knocked on his ass in the snow outside this very bar.

“Alright,” you sighed as you pushed a few loose strands of hair out of your face. “Let’s just—”

“You heard me,” the man at the table repeated, trying to sound confident as he pushed himself to his feet, even as his voice was shaking. He glared back at Joel, seemingly spurred by some stupid sense of wounded pride or suicidal tendencies. “I called her what she is: a whore.”

You laughed, louder than you should, devoid now of any carefree feeling from earlier. Surely you were drawing the attention of those drinking nearby, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care about that right now.

“Right, I’m a whore for drinking and dancing with friends?” you asked, eyes blazing at the audacity of this man as you felt Joel shift and move around you. “Because I refused to sleep with you when you asked so pathetically?”

The man whose name you still couldn’t remember—something that made the situation even more hilarious, even though nobody knew that fact except for you—took a step towards you at that last jab you made, though his path was quickly interrupted as Joel stepped in front of you.

Joel’s hand grabbed the man’s shirt roughly, pulling the bastard closer as his carefully stoic face began to melt into a rare display of...anger? It was an intimidating, nearly terrifying look that you had seen directed towards you once, but now it was showing in defense of you.

“You speak that way to a woman again, and you won’t be so lucky as to leave with just a bruised ego this time,” he murmured, the low words deceivingly soft as they rumbled from his chest.

The weaselly man looked between Joel and you, forcing laughter even as he could tell he was outnumbered. His next words were his own fault, the final nail in the coffin as he sneered to Joel, “Shit, I can’t imagine the pussy is actually that good for you to defend—”

A crack filled the air as Joel’s fist collided with the man’s face, sending him flying back into the table where his friends sat behind him.

“Joel!” you shouted, grabbing his shoulder to try and pull him back, even as he didn’t budge. “Jesus, Joel, you can’t just—”

You continued to tug at his shoulder, and when he finally looked back at you, the man shifting on the table caught your eye, and your words cut off. The glint of something sharp followed the sound of glass shattering, and you stepped in front of Joel before you could think twice about it. Your arm lifted to defend yourself, letting out a yelp of pain as you felt the broken bottle slash across it.

Chaos descended upon the bar. 

Shouting rose up around you as you saw a few men grabbing the stupid son of a bitch who just tried to instigate his own funeral by attempting to cut Joel. You turned, the sound of Tommy’s voice shouting pulling your attention as you saw your friend holding back his brother, who was trying to escape his grip to fight the bastard with barely contained fury.

“One punch,” you heard Joel muttering angrily as Tommy kept pulling him back. “Just one punch, teach him a fucking lesson—”

“You already taught him a lesson, Joel, you broke his fucking nose!”

You blinked, pulling your arm up to look at the blood trickling down it. While you felt slowed, almost out-of-body by the combined dampening of adrenaline and alcohol, the action seemed to finally grab the attention of Joel and Tommy. The men abruptly stopped their struggle as they turned to you.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Tommy addressed the gathering crowd loudly, pulling their scattered attention to him as he stepped forward to grab your assailant by the back of his shirt collar. He shifted into his authoritative tone as he continued, “No more excitement for tonight.”

Tommy looked between the bleeding man he was holding onto and Joel, sighing before he said in a level tone that commanded respect, “Maria will have a word with you both tomorrow. For now, go treat your wounds.”

He gave a small shove that was hardly gentle to the guy, who stumbled away as his friends rose to escort him out. Tommy glanced at you, mouth opening as Joel pressed some clean napkins he had picked up from a nearby table against your bleeding cut.

“I’ll get her treated and home safe,” Joel said quietly to Tommy, the younger brother glancing between you two with a furrowed brow before you nodded at him.

“Go tell Maria what happened,” you added softly as you held the napkins to your cut. “I’m fine.”

Tommy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he muttered something along the lines of not knowing what to do with the two of you, before leaving with a nod and short farewell.

Joel’s hand found a spot between your shoulder blades, gently ushering you out of the tense atmosphere you had created and into the fresh spring air outside. The chill of the late night breeze sobered you up a bit as he continued to lead you in a direction that you slowly realized was in the opposite direction of your house.

“Wait, but my house is—”

“I have first aid at my place,” Joel interrupted your confusion in a short tone, to which you raised an eyebrow in response.

“So do I,” you said slowly, watching as he stared at the dark street ahead like he was refusing to look at you.

Even with his hand still pressed firmly on your upper back.

“I don’t know where stuff is in your house," he muttered, still not looking at you as you turned onto the darker streets of one of the residential districts in Jackson.

You snorted, a small smirk creeping on your lips as you blamed the alcohol flooding your system for fueling your cheeky remark.

“Yeah you do,” you muttered, and he finally glanced back at you in disbelief when you added, “You know where the mugs are, at least.”

Joel shook his head as he led you to his house, saying nothing else aside from muttering to himself, “Jesus fucking Christ.”

You laughed at that, unable to resist the humor in his exasperation at the situation, even as his hand finally fell from where he had been guiding you when you stopped outside a large house. When he led you up the steps and through the gate to his new home, you whistled low, nodding in appreciation at the scale of it.

“Damn, Joel, they set you up in a place way bigger than mine," you drawled, smirking again as you heard a quiet scoff escape him from where he had moved to walk ahead of you.

Yeah, the alcohol was definitely to blame for sarcastically teasing Joel so much, even as he continued to give you replies that were as short as always.

“Shut up,” he muttered, though not unkindly as you crossed the path up to the porch.

A smaller building nearby caught your eye as you waited for Joel to open the door, and you turned to see a garage with the lights on a bit farther away from the house.

"What's that?" you asked, nodding towards it, and Joel followed your gaze after the front door swung open. 

"Ellie lives there," he muttered, offering no further explanation as he walked into the house, and you followed without any more questioning.

The few tones Joel spoke with were familiar enough now for you to know when not to press something. Even though you tolerated each other's presence more than you had before, Ellie was still a topic that he rarely discussed, and you didn't push him on it. It wasn't your business, anyway.

You glanced around you, trying to take in your surroundings as you entered the home, maybe gain enough of an opinion to critique his taste in décor if it was poor. But he herded you down the hallway, not giving you a chance to collect any witty remarks as you walked through a makeshift washroom-closet and into a kitchen on your left.

“Really, a kitchen again?” you teased, snickering at his annoyed huff as he sat you down at a small table next to a window, even as you were surprised at your own blunt reference to an act neither of you have dared to discuss openly since his return.

“You’re insufferable when you’re drunk,” Joel muttered, maybe more to himself than to you as he went back into the washroom to rifle through something.

“Says the drunk man who broke somebody’s nose,” you bit back with no small amount of snark, unable to hide your smirk as he reappeared with a first aid kit and a humorless expression that made you laugh.

Joel pulled the other chair at the table over next to yours, sitting in it as he set the first aid on the table.

“Insufferable,” he repeated to himself with a shake of his head, opening the kit and pulling out the supplies he needed to clean your wound.

Joel peeled away the napkins that had stuck to your skin, and if he saw you wince, he ignored it. He focused on his task, making no attempt at small talk as he made sure the bleeding had stopped before applying disinfectant. You held back any reactions from the sting, watching him as your head tilted in quiet observation, his silence giving you a moment to think.

Genuine surprise had flooded your being when Joel had stood up for you at the bar. While you had seen hints of a rare, odd sense of something almost akin to chivalry in the older man, the fact that he went so far as to break a man's nose rendered you into disbelief.

If somebody had told you months ago that Joel Miller would deck a man in the face because they had called you a whore and made an out-of-pocket remark about your pussy, you would have laughed for a long, long time in incredulity. Hell, you still wanted to laugh from doubt at it happening even now. There was no time, no universe, in which Joel—the man who had regarded you as nothing more than a nuisance—would commit such an act for you.

Yet here you were, sitting in his kitchen as he tended to a shallow wound that you had taken on his behalf. A favor for a favor, you supposed—his defense of your honor, your defense of his body.

“What?” Joel asked, sparing a glance up towards your analytical gaze and pulling you out of your inner monologue. He looked back down at your cut, wiping the cotton drenched with disinfectant over it again as you considered how to respond, wondering how much of your thoughts you wanted to reveal, if any of them.

“Just thinking about what a Southern gentleman you are,” you finally revealed in a light tone, holding back a snicker as he shot you a bemused glance.

“What?” He repeated, his voice holding more confusion this time, and you sighed. The sound was melodramatically tired, as if you were exasperated by his lack of understanding. Inspired by Dina's penchant for theatrics, even though you were only teasing right now.

“That’s the second time you’ve defended my honor,” you said the last few words cheekily, mocking a posh accent when you spoke of honor as Joel huffed at your strange show of dramatics. The next words were more serious though, more contemplative as you observed him and asked, “Trying to repay those debts?”

He shook his head, tossing the slightly bloody cotton pad to the side as he picked up a medicine cream that would help the cut heal.

“Still doesn’t count,” Joel muttered, squeezing some of the cream out onto the tip of his forefinger before gently running the rough digit along your injury. The feeling of his coarse touch against your skin made you shiver, the sensation a reminder of how it had felt when he was thrusting his fingers inside of you.

“Because I could have handled it myself?” you finally asked once you had pulled yourself out of the vivid memory, blaming both the flashback and the flush on your cheeks on the whiskey.

Joel hummed in affirmation of your question, screwing the top back on the cream once he had finished spreading it along your cut, and setting the tube back down.

“I lost my head,” he finally said quietly after a moment of silence, and your gaze refocused back on him from where it had been wandering around the room, taking in his interior design choices. “I shouldn’t have.”

“Eh,” you shrugged a shoulder, a small smile tugging at your lips. You didn't know why he had lost his head, but you found yourself unable to ask why before you admitted in a softer tone that you surprised even yourself with, “I don’t…not appreciate it.”

Joel didn’t look at you, and you didn’t look at him as you cleared that hint of softness out of your throat and mind. You were unaware of the sentiment until you had said it, and you were eager to rebury it in the back of your mind, in the empty grave all memories of Joel had managed to claw their way out of since his return to Jackson. Maybe if you buried it well enough now, he would stop haunting your subconscious.

You took another moment to glance around his kitchen that was much larger than yours. The sight of a coffee pot on the stove made you laugh, turning back to him with another smirk as he picked up a roll of gauze.

“Are you going to offer me a cup of coffee?” You asked slowly, not really sure where this constant influx of sultry snark was coming from, but you were powerless to stop it. Must be the alcohol.

You were surprised by the quiet chuckle that left Joel’s lips, a sound you had never heard before that made your heart skip a beat. The small smirk dancing on his lips made your stomach flip as he replied surprisingly smoothly, “I guess I do owe you one, huh?”

A smirk of your own was your only reply as he spared a glance up at you. Joel shook his head, gaze turning back down as he bandaged up your arm.

“That’s a bit overkill,” you remarked, examining the bandage he had wrapped around your entire forearm as you rotated it once he had finished.

“It gets the job done,” Joel sighed, packing the first aid kit back up and flipping it closed again. “You should be glad it wasn’t deep enough to require any stitches.”

“Because you would’ve done a shitty job and given me an ugly scar?” you asked, not expecting a response as he stood and took the kit back to the washroom.

“Yup,” you heard his deep voice respond from the other room, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the blunt admission as you leaned back in your chair.

It was...weird, this almost amicable atmosphere between the two of you. You had never spoken to each other so easily before, and you blamed the strange phenomenon entirely on the whiskey you both were drunk off of.

Glancing through the other doorway into the adjoining dining room, you noted that Joel had a lot of warm earth tones in his home. It was cozier, more homey than you would have expected. You wondered idly if Tommy or Ellie had helped him with the furniture choices, or if it had been all him.

The colors and the feelings they evoked also reminded you of how he smelled of that earthy scent you couldn’t name as he licked and bit down your neck.

You cleared your throat, shifting in your seat as arousal stirred within you. Joel walked back into the room, pulling your attention when he sank back into the chair that was still next to yours, his knee brushing against yours once he was seated.

Silence that had become typical between you fell again.

“So,” you started slowly, fingers tapping against the table, desire pooling between your legs as his knee brushed against yours again. You cleared your throat, trying to find a topic to distract yourself from the fact that his presence was much too close to you now, nothing distracting you from his annoyingly magnetic presence.

When a topic from earlier flashed through your mind, you grasped onto it quickly as you teased, “Esther, huh?”

Joel groaned, running a hand over his hair and effectively messing it up, the look of the disheveled, gray curls only making your lust stronger as your knees pressed together. Shit, maybe this topic wouldn't work.

“Don’t start,” he muttered, not looking at you in favor of rubbing the badly healed scars on his knuckles that you had noticed in your kitchen months ago.

His words were pointless though. Despite your best judgment that told you to take the opportunity to switch the topic, you had already started, and you wouldn’t stop now.

“With a name like that, she must be as old as you, right?” you asked, arching a brow as he turned to watch you blankly. You couldn't stop a snicker and smirk as you added, “Like, from the 1800's old?”

Joel sighed, shaking his head as he rested an elbow on the table and dropped his face into his hand.

“Can’t imagine the sex is good, if she’s that old,” you continued, spurred on by his exasperation, and grinning impishly as he groaned into his hand.

“She’s nice,” he finally muttered, hand falling away from his face even as he kept looking down at the table, and you nodded along slowly.

“Right, nice," you assented, not sure why the words made you restless as you glanced away from him.

You kept nodding, looking around the kitchen, when your gaze fell on the coffee pot again. A smirk grew on your lips as your eyes darted back to his, and your chest fluttered in excitement when you saw he was looking at you from the corner of his eyes now.

“I gotta admit, I didn’t think you were the type who liked ‘nice’, Miller.” The words were dark, almost sultry, and you saw something in Joel’s gaze shift as it focused entirely on you.

“Oh yeah?” His deep voice rumbled in his chest, his arched eyebrow begging for more of your defiance as he leaned towards you just an inch. “And what type do you think I like, exactly?”

Your fingers continue to tap a rhythm against the table, slowly moving closer to where his own hand rested until you were right next to it. Your touch hovered inches from him even as you continued to tap the surface around his fingers, avoiding touching him directly, only letting your fingers graze against his occasionally. A whisper, a temptation, a plea to touch him again.

“Sluts,” you answered slowly, the filthy term rolling off your tongue as Joel’s eyes darkened on the way your mouth formed around the word. “If I’m remembering correctly.”

He said your name in a low tone, the sound a warning, but you only saw it as a challenge.

You leaned closer, your fingers still dancing around his hand, head tilted with a sly smirk. Joel’s knee pressed harder against yours as you slowly spread your legs, and his gaze flashed down between them, his hand curling into a fist as he understood exactly what you were implying.

“You’re drunk,” Joel said quietly, voice husky as he tried to turn you down, even as he refused to look away from your opened legs.

“So are you,” you whispered, your fingers finally grazing directly over the top of his hand, and he jolted.

Joel leaned back from you, gaze darting away from you, and your stomach almost dropped from disappointment, maybe even embarrassment, before he looked back at you not even a second later.

“I—” Joel shook his head, swallowing thickly. “We shouldn’t—”

His eyes caught on your seductive smirk, and he shook his head again, the defenses in his gaze falling all at once as he breathes out, “Fuck.”

Joel’s hands were on you within a second of the murmured curse, pulling you roughly out of your chair and into his lap. His head buried in your neck, tongue and teeth finding your skin as you moaned loudly from the feeling of him suddenly pressing against you because finally, finally. You had been wanting him for weeks, even though you had tried to deny it, and now you finally had him again.

And maybe you were both drunk, maybe you both would regret it in the morning. But you wanted him now, just as much as he wanted you, and that was enough.

Your hips rolled, pushing your throbbing clit against the erection that was growing in his pants already, even as all he did was mouth at your neck.

“I make you this hard just by being in your lap, Joel?” you murmur, continuing to grind your hips against him, and he grunts.

“Shut up,” Joel muttered, pulling his head back, and you darted down towards his lips before he grabbed your chin in a firm hand.

“No,” he said stiffly, his gaze serious even as it became clouded in lust from the feeling of your clothed pussy pressing against his hard dick in his jeans.

“You have this rule for every girl you fuck?” you whisper, rolling your hips against his faster, and his look of annoyance faded into one of hazy desire as his eyelids fluttered and his head fell back. Your tone was more biting as you added, "Did you have it for Esther, too?"

“You really do have a sharp mouth, don’t you?” Joel muttered, and you laughed, jolting forward and pressing against his chest when he suddenly slapped your ass. “Pants off. Now.”

“So demanding,” you chastised, even as you stood and did what he told you to.

You made a show of it, your fingers circling the button of your pants before unbuttoning it. Joel’s eyes were glued to your seduction as you slowly unzipped your pants, then slid them down until they pooled at your feet on his kitchen floor, and you stepped out of them.

“Panties too,” Joel murmured, his hand rubbing his thigh as he leaned back and watched you, and you laughed breathlessly.

“What happened to your Southern manners?” you teased, and Joel raised an eyebrow.

Without a word, his finger reaches forward, dancing along the hemline of the dark, simple panties you were wearing. His finger curves under the band on your thigh, the rough pad of it skimming against your skin before he grabs the banding and swiftly yanks, snapping your panties and letting the fabric fall to the floor.

You blinked rapidly, unable to help the light laugh of surprise that left your lips even as he nodded towards the table behind you.

“Sit.”

Shifting backwards, you pressed your hands against the table and hopped up, bare ass pressed against the cold surface as you smirked at him. You spread your legs for him, and Joel inhaled sharply through his nose, his hand twitching on his thigh as if he wanted to touch you, but still he held back.

“Touch yourself,” he murmured, and your eyes widened before the words sent desire curling low in your stomach.

You placed your hand on your lower stomach, fingers spread as you dipped down lower, until you slid them through your folds that had grown wet from his words and your grinding against his hips.

“Already so wet,” Joel muttered, his hands moving to slowly unbutton his jeans even as he kept watching you touch yourself.

The sight of him unzipping his pants caused your breath to hitch, your wet fingers tracing up to begin to rub slow circles over your clit. You bite your lip, feeling the pleasure start to build as you touch yourself while Joel busies himself with pulling his cock out of his pants. 

It was the first time you had actually seen it and, fuck, he was big. You already knew he was, had felt every delicious inch of him deep inside of you. But seeing the strong, stoic Joel Miller sitting in front of you now, legs spread with his cock in his hand, hard at the sight of you, was enough to shoot you even closer to an orgasm.

“Don’t you want to feel?” you whispered, shivering with a moan as you watched Joel lift one of his hands and lick his palm slowly. A brief thought passed through your mind, wondering what that tongue would feel like working at your clit instead of your fingers, and you began to stimulate yourself faster.

“Oh, I will,” Joel gave a small smirk, one that grew just a bit at the moan that left you at the seductive teasing and that downright fucking sinful smirk.

“Fuck,” you whispered, eyes glued to his hand as it found his dick and he began to pump himself slowly.

Joel grunted, and you locked the sound of it away for later, for those lonely nights where you had only your own hand and no other company to bring you pleasure. He fists himself almost lazily, eyes drinking you in as your fingers picked up on your clit. Your mouth opens, breath coming in small pants as your hips begin to lift towards your own touch.

“That’s it,” Joel murmured, and you resisted the urge to close your eyes and tilt your head back, too intoxicated by the sight of him getting himself off just from watching you touch yourself. ��Make yourself cum because of me.”

A loud moan escapes your parted lips, hips bucking up into the air as you rubbed your clit faster, finding just the right angle as your pleasure crests, then explodes through your body as you lose yourself in the mind numbing bliss of an orgasm.

Joel stood as you moaned through it, hands finding your sides to lower you back against the table even as your thighs twitched from the aftershocks of the orgasm. He took a moment to appreciate the sight of you spread across his table, your face flushed and pussy dripping wet from an orgasm, before he collected your release on his fingers and spread it across his dick.

He pumped himself a few times, placing the head of his cock against your entrance as you looked up at him, licking your lips in anticipation.

“You ready?” he asked quietly, and you nodded quickly, legs wrapping around his hips as he slowly pushed into you.

Even though you had already felt him inside you before, it felt just as delicious as the first time you had fucked as his dick entered you inch by inch. Your cunt gripped him tightly as he bottomed out, his palms placed on either side of you, bracing himself against the table as he leaned down.

For a moment you wondered if he was going to break his rule, but Joel stopped before he could get close enough to kiss you. He seemed to be trying to collect himself, brows furrowed and eyes dark as sin as he pulled out of you a few inches to thrust back in.

You moan at the same time he does, though Joel was much quieter as he pulled out to thrust back in again.

And again.

And again.

The sound of the wooden table creaking, the legs scraping against the tile of the kitchen floor as Joel fucked you was almost as deliciously sinful as the sound of skin slapping against skin with each thrust. One of your hands grabs the edge of the table above your head, your other hand snaking down to rub your clit as he begins to thrust faster.

“Fuck, you—” Joel cut himself off, still holding some part of himself back, even now when he was fucking you like you were both utterly depraved, sinful beings. Which you might be.

“So good,” he finally mutters, his hands coming up to grab the top edge of the table around your hand, his forehead falling to rest against the table next to your head so you could hear every grunt, every sharp breath of pleasure leave his lips as he fucked you. “Feel so good.”

“Mm,” you moaned, nodding desperately to agree even as the ability failed you to concisely word the pleasure that was building. “Close. I’m close.”

Joel also nodded beside you, turning his head so his lips could graze your ear.

“Cum on my cock,” he whispers against it, breath fanning against the sensitive skin, and your hips jerk forward to meet his hard thrusts, fingers desperately rubbing your clit until the climb of pleasure broke, and your orgasm washed over you.

Your back arched as you cried out from the intense pleasure, soaking in the feeling of your quivering walls gripping every inch of his dick as he fucked you through your high.

“God,” Joel groaned, grabbing your hips as he leaned back, pulling you roughly against him to meet each of his hard thrusts. You fought to keep your eyes open, vision blurry as you watched his head lean back, lips parted as his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure.

He bucked into you hard once, twice, before pulling out, his hand finding his dick as he pumped the cum out of his cock to land on your inner thighs. Joel panted, eyes opening and glazing over from the ecstasy of his orgasm. His chest kept heaving as he continued to catch his breath, even as his gaze lowered to look at you spread out and well-fucked on his table beneath him, his cum dripping down your thighs.

“Here we are again,” you murmur once you could find your voice, the words hoarse, your eyebrow arching as a tired smirk turns up your lips. “I think you might have a thing for kitchens, Joel Miller.”

A huff that sounded a bit too much like a laugh escaped Joel’s lips, and he shakes his head as he tucks his softening dick away. He turns, walking over to his counter, and your head drops back against the table, mind swimming with the desire to give into the gentle lull of sleep in the sweet afterglow of sex.

“Here,” Joel murmured, and you opened your eyes to see he was holding out a hand towel he had used to clean his hand.

You take it with a nod of thanks, pushing yourself up with weak arms until you were sitting up well enough so you could clean the mess he had left between your legs once again.

He took the towel back once you were done cleaning yourself, moving into the attached washroom to supposedly drop it somewhere to be cleaned later before walking back out to meet you. 

Joel’s hand reaches out, an offering to help you up, and you give a small, amused smile at the familiar situation as you take it.

You stumbled a bit as you stood, and Joel’s hand tightened on yours minutely, helping you steady yourself. You murmured a tired thanks, leaning down to pick up your ruined panties, shoving them in the pocket of your pants once you pulled them back on.

“I’ll walk you home,” Joel said quietly, and your eyebrows shot up in surprise as you looked at him. He rolled his eyes, gaze averting as he muttered, “I promised Tommy.”

“Ah,” you nodded, the thought of your friend making you wince because, shit, you’ve fucked his brother twice now.

Maybe Joel was thinking the same thing, because you both went quiet as you fixed yourselves up so you looked presentable enough in case you ran into anybody else on the walk back to your house, and not like you had definitely, without a doubt just fucked each other. Your legs were shaky as you left Joel’s house, but you had walked further distances on more unsteady legs before. This wasn’t that hard. 

It was quiet, the chirps of insects the only sound you could hear other than the echoes of your shoes tapping against the pavement as you walked down the empty streets of Jackson. Luckily, you didn’t end up running into anyone as you rounded the corner onto your street, and saw the familiar Number 27 that you called home.

Or tried to call home.

You sigh quietly, hands shoved inside your pockets as you glance back at Joel. The two of you came to a slow stop in front of your fence, and after a moment of trying to catch his eye and failing, you shrugged to yourself as you reached out to push the gate open.

“We can’t do this again.”

The words made you pause, and you glanced over your shoulder back at Joel.

He still wasn’t looking at you, his gaze turned up towards the night sky. Jackson wasn’t so well-lit that you couldn’t see the stars, and one glance up showed that the multitude of those stars were twinkling in the clear expanse of midnight blue before you looked back down.

Your eyes traced over Joel’s face, over the strong nose, gray scruff, and wrinkles that were from both age as well as a hard life of survival and loss.

“Yeah,” you found yourself agreeing quietly, your feet shifting away from him, walking backwards down your path as you didn’t look away from him just yet. “Yeah, we can’t.”

Finally you turned, walking silently the rest of the way up to your porch. It wasn’t until you were through your door and shutting it behind you when you felt that familiar, intense gaze on your back.

You ignored it.

[bloodychazorite]

Q!Slime Rant :DDD

I think Q!Slime deserves to snap, or–at the very least–be bitter.

It is insane how the other members of the other members have been treating him, ever since he lost his daughter. Mocking him, ridiculing him, bringing him back over and over again to that moment. Gods forbid, however, he does the same for a second, asking the–perfectly rational, by the way–question of whether or not the eggs are actually okay. Everyone knows JuanaFlippa is different from the other eggs, being brought back a few times now. And even Slime doesn’t know this but the other residents of the island suspect that Juana is code and trying to infect him. They know she’s different as well, so the question isn't insane.

Wilbur openly poked him, calling him a Misclicker but as soon as he brings up that valid point of Tallulah maybe not being okay, he snaps. (Also this hypocrite was yelling at Phil for not doing anything? Oh my gods.) Bad brought up Flippa’s death and Charlie’s mistakes and failures every chance he got and gave him an egg named after his dead daughter during his fucking breakdown. I’m aware that he’s a demon and maybe that contributes to the fact that he has harshly different standards of what’s okay, but that is an insane action to jump to. When your egg is alive, it’s a lot easier to mock those with dead children, isn’t it?

No one is even remotely attempting to help him with the Code Virus.

They are laughing, and they are pointing it out, but no one is doing anything. Each and every one of them knows that Charlie will be stubborn if they tell him it’s Flippa. Denial is his favorite stage of grief and he’s hardly left it since he first got on this island. But that doesn’t change the fact that people know something is wrong and no one has tried to help other than a brief, “Are you okay?” Or an “Are you feeling alright?”

Clearly not!!

I’m not saying he was a perfect saint, and I’m not saying he’s never done anything wrong. For a while, he was a terrible parent. But he was trying to change, and even succeeding in a few aspects. He loved his girl and was trying to change for her, even before she died for the first time. 

Each time he had something taken from him, he got worse. 

Every time his daughter died, Mariana left, Tilín’s death, everything makes him worse. 

No one tried to help him then, and no one is trying to help him now. 

He is far from perfect, but he hardly deserves the endless amounts of suffering he’s been subjected to, not many people do.

A person is deteriorating, decaying, being eaten alive from the inside out in front of each of the island’s residents. People are watching decomposition happen in real time, mentally and physically. In the mental aspect, they’ve been watching it happen for months.

I hope Charlie goes full corrupt and eats all their asses.

Y'know what? Not even that!

I hope he goes full corrupt and they have to lock him up or contain him somehow because he becomes a danger to others or a contamination issue. 

Maybe he drags himself around the island, voice hollow and teeming with glitch after tic after error.

Perhaps the Federation could step in and drag him away kicking and screaming desperately for his daughter, wailing and sobbing for anyone to listen and save him, forgive him.

He could lose all concept of his humanity, entirely a shell of his former self, and every person he speaks to can hardly find his soul behind his eyes until he sees Flippa. Not even José cheers him up anymore. The only light in his eyes is the unnatural green gleam against his now dull blue eyes when his gaze meets Flippa’s.

And I hope that–no matter what–every member of Quesadilla Island has to come to terms with the fact that they did nothing to help a suffering, mentally tortured friend, and now there’s a chance that they’ll never get him back.

Anyway I’m insane how's your day going :p