#I’m realizing I’m one of the five people in this tag so like I’m throwing a party for us

[the-bi-space-ace]

My partner had the cutest idea and I just have to share it with you.

Rex was so strict as a cadet. He tried hard to prove himself, stuck to the rules, made sure everything he did was in line with regulation.

However, a few command track clones took Rex under their wing: Cody, Wolffe, Fox, Bly, and Ponds. They knew Rex needed to relax a bit. He needed to have a bit of fun, not just stick to the regulations, so they kept trying to get Rex to play with them. Games like cards or more physical games like tag instead of having to run laps every time they did cardio.

Little baby cadet Rex was not having it. He was too nervous to step outside of the lines so they came up with an ingenious plan.

“It’s training, Rex!” Cody would say and he’d tilt his head to the side in suspicion.

“It looks like a card game.” Rex would throw back. Which is when one of the others would step in to say that it ‘tests your reaction time’ or ‘helps you strategize.’ He gave in, of course, and let them pull him away from responsibilities too many times to count.

He loosened up as he got older, realized that part of life is goofing off and having some fun. He didn’t have to be ‘perfect’ for them to still love him.

And imagine, down the line when Rex meets a trooper a lot like himself when he was younger. Someone who knows the regs front to back, can recite them without a second thought, and is tied at the hip with someone that would follow his lead anywhere. Someone who is still trying to prove himself and now wants to work extra hard in the 501st to be the best he can be.

Imagine the first time Rex strolls into the training gym and stops them in the middle of a spar and doesn’t like the way Echo’s back straightens like he’s about to get in trouble. Think about how he sighs and says:

“Boys, I think it’s time you got some more specialized training.” And Fives and Echo look at each other, confused but intrigued by what in the galaxy ‘specialized training’ even means. The only warning he gives is the same one he got from Cody as a cadet. “Don’t let me catch you.” before he takes off after them.

It’s tag. They’re playing tag. And it’s silly and a little stupid but by the time they’re done everyone is out of breath and they’re all half dead because their lungs are screaming at them but everyone is smiling and that’s really good enough for Rex.

He thinks of all the times a simple, silly game was called ‘training’ and he had to be tricked into it by people who love him and he knows he’ll do the same to make these two primarily Echo loosen up and get comfortable with their place in the 501st.

They have a lot to learn, but Rex knows they’ll make him proud. Whether or not they can win a game of tag- oh, wait, I’m sorry - whether or not they can win a ‘training exercise’ or a ‘spar’. They’ll get comfortable. And he’s sure there will be times they’ll make his life hell just like he did to everyone who helped him find his place.

It’s part of growing up and finding your people and figuring out who you are, your place in it all. Rex is more than happy to help.

[pedrospatch]

when i’m feeling alone, you remind me of home

Javier Peña x DEA Agent Female Reader

summary: Spending Christmas in Bogotá, Colombia isn’t ideal. Javier knows you’re missing home a little harder than usual, so he comes up with a plan to cheer you up.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. minor deviation from canon timeline (had to make it work), reader is an agent for the DEA, NO AGE SPECIED, NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION, reader understands and speaks spanish but no mention of her race or ethnicity, friends to lovers trope, reader celebrates christmas, reader has a good relationship with her family, minor smoking and alcohol consumption (both reader and javi), reader’s a bit rough around the edges sometimes. fluff, soft javi, he’s a bit of a grinch in the beginning though. switches in pov’s and tenses.

*ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS AT THE END.

word count: 2.9k

a/n: thank you to @hellishjoel for inviting me to join in on this fun project!

12 Days of Pedro Masterlist

Javier Peña doesn’t do Christmas.

He especially doesn’t do Christmas in Bogotá.

He doesn’t see the point even acknowledging it.

There are more important things on his mind.

Capturing Pablo Escobar.

Dismantling the dangerous Medellín Cartel.

Living long enough to tell the fucking tale.

Those were his priorities while in Colombia.

Not decking the halls with boughs of holly.

And yet, there he is, fighting with a string of bright and colorful lights, wishing these damn things would put themselves on the tree. “Puta madre,” Javi curses underneath his breath as he tries untangling them from around his waist. Somehow, he only makes it worse. He grumbles, “This is fucking ridiculous—it shouldn’t be this fucking hard throwing lights on a goddamn fucking tree—” He pauses, spins around to find where he’d gone wrong and then continues grouching to himself. “Can’t believe people do this fucking shit for fun. Stupidest thing I’ve ever—”

Javi manages to free himself and glances down at his watch to see he’s running out of time—it’s past five now, and unless Messina’s in one of those bad fucking moods of hers and decides to dump some last minute paperwork onto your desk, then you’re going to be walking through the front door soon.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling a deep and frustrated sigh.

He’d been an idiot to decline Connie’s offer to help him when she had dropped off the decorations for him earlier that afternoon.

“You sure you don’t need my help?” she had asked as she handed him the cardboard box overflowing with festive ornaments and tinsel. “I have a couple of more hours before I have to be at the clinic, you know. I can help you set it all up for her, make it all nice and pretty.”

“Thanks, but I’ve got it handled,” he’d replied. “I’m sure it won’t take me too long to put some—is this fucking fruit?” Confused, Javi shifted the box over to his hip, pulling out a string of dried oranges and red cranberries. “Um, what the hell is this for? This supposed to be a snack for me while I decorate?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s a homemade garland.”

“It’s a homemade what now?”

“Garland, Javier. It goes on the tree.”

Amused, he’d raised an eyebrow at her.

“Fruit going back onto the tree? That’s ironic.”

Sighing, Connie rolled her eyes at him once more.

“Last chance. Do you want my help or not, Javi?”

“I appreciate it, but like I said, I’ve got it handled.”

She’d shrugged. “Alright, suit yourself, then.”

Little did he know how he’d regret his decision. It’s a bigger headache than he thought it would be, an incredible waste of valuable time he could’ve been using to hunt down new leads, do the job he came here to do and find Pablo Escobar. Then again, the more he thinks about it, the more Javi realizes this isn’t a waste of his time at all—not really.

Because he’s doing this for you.

Because he knows you love Christmas.

Because he knows you’ve been feeling homesick.

The season you normally adored was bringing you nothing but heartache this year. There is a void—a hole in your heart that only your family could fill.

“Messina denied my request for time off,” you had told him, taking a drag of his cigarette—you’re not much of a smoker, but he’d learned that tended to change on occasion when you were upset. “Said it isn’t fair to let me go home for Christmas. That I’m not the only one who wants to be with their family. And I get it. I do.” Sighing, you took a second drag and then handed the cigarette back to Javier; he’d put it between his lips, the taste of cherry flavored lip gloss that lingered on the filtered tip prompting a craving stronger than his craving for nicotine. “It was selfish of me to even think of taking time off. I just—I miss spending Christmas in my hometown, you know? Waking up to snow outside my window in the mornings. Building snowmen with my sister, hurling snowballs at my brother. I miss my mother and her cooking. I miss my father and how even at our age, he still insists on pretending to be Santa.”

Laughing, Javier leaned forward on his stool.

You’d asked him to meet you at your usual spot—a quiet lounge bar right around the corner from your apartment. When he walked in and saw the scotch in front of you on the table, he’d known something was wrong. You’re not much of a drinker, either.

“Does he eat the cookies and drink the milk too?”

You nodded, crossing your arms over your chest, a little grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. He tried not to let his gaze longer there too long—he’s just one man. There was only so much strength he could muster to keep fighting the temptation.

“Of course. He takes his role very, very seriously.”

Despite your smile, he’d noticed it right away.

The unmistakable sadness in your eyes.

You were tough as fucking nails.

In this line of work, you had no choice but to be.

But Javier knew your family was your weakness.

His weakness?

His weakness was sitting there in front of him with a crestfallen expression on her pretty face, tracing around the rim of her glass with her finger.

“It’s stupid, isn’t it?” Your voice had thickened, the emotions you’re used to bottling up threatening to boil over.

“Of course not,” he assured you. “There is nothing stupid about wanting to go back home to see your family. There’s nothing stupid about wanting to be with them for the holidays. I promise you that.”

You snorted. “Peña, we’re trying to bring down the most dangerous man in all of South America. Last thing I need to be doing right now is dreaming of a white Christmas. It’s fucking stupid, alright?”

Hesitantly, Javier lifted his hand and placed it over yours—it wasn’t the first time he’d ever held it, not the first time he had shown physical affection, but this was the most vulnerable he had ever seen you and he didn’t want to make things worse. Once he realized it was okay, he brushed the back of it with his thumb softly, soothingly.

“Yo hablaré con Messina, cariño.”

“No hay caso para eso, Javier.”

“Maybe I can convince her to let you go. She’s got me and she’s got Murphy. We’ll handle things here while you head home for a few days, spend a week with your family for Christmas. Doesn’t hurt to try, you know.” Javi squeezed your hand. Knowing just how fucking stubborn you could be, he insisted on it. “Por favor, cielo. Dejame ayudarte con esto. Yo solo quiero verte feliz. Dejame ayudarte.”

You drained the rest of your scotch and swallowed it along with the lump that had climbed it’s way up your throat. Setting the glass back down, you then pulled your hand out from under his and stood up.

“Forget it. I’m here because I have a job to do—we both have a job to do. I’ll get over it, Javier. Always do.”

Before he could say another word, you’d picked up your jacket and purse, making a quick dash for the exit before he could see the stubborn tear slipping out from the corner of your eye and down the side of your face. But he had seen it, and that’s exactly why he knew he had to do something for you.

About an hour later, Javi places a glittering star on top of the white spruce and then takes a couple of steps back, hands on his hips. Cocking his head to the side, he observes the tree and makes sure that he hasn’t left a single spot bare. He decides to add more gold tinsel until he feels oddly satisfied—and once he is, he pulls out his pocket knife, using it to open the small sized box he had brought with him; two different addresses were scribbled on the side of it in your mother’s handwriting, his apartment’s address the destination, her address the return.

“I wrapped it well,” she’d said over the phone. “It’s her most prized possession, so I really hope it gets to you in one piece or she’s going to kill us both.”

Javier slowly unwraps the object inside and feels a wave of complete and utter relief wash over him to see it made it through customs without breaking.

He squints, taking a better look at the ornament.

The little blonde ballerina is made of porcelain and holds a nutcracker soldier in her arms—the skirt of her dress is white lace embroidered with teeny red rosettes that perfectly match the blush painted on her cheeks and the color of the bow in her hair.

“It’s Clara,” your mother had explained to him.

“Who?” he’d asked, stupidly.

“Clara. You know, from The Nutcracker?”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” he’d fibbed. “Clara. Got it.”

He had no clue what she had been talking about—but if it’s special to you, then it’s special to him.

Carefully, Javi hangs it on tree just as he hears the front door open and then slam shut so hard that it causes the paper thin walls of your unit to rattle.

“Peña!” you shout loudly. “You fucking asshole!”

Lip rolling between his teeth, he stifles a laugh.

You must have seen his Wrangler parked outside.

Grinning, Javier steps out into the hallway to greet you. “Hola, hermosa. Bienvenida a casa.”

“So, let me get this straight,” you say, tossing your purse and unit keys onto a nearby table. “You offer to give me ride to and from work but then proceed to ditch me and leave work three hours early—you leave me with no other fucking choice but to call a cab to bring me home and when he drops me off, I see your fucking car outside of my apartment?”

Rubbing his chin, he hums, “Sounds about right.”

You approach him, your hands curled into fists.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Javier?”

Javi’s quick to hold up his own hands in defense.

He won’t put it past you to knock him out—he and Murphy have seen you bring down men twice your size before without a weapon. Neither of them can decide if it’s hot as hell or downright terrifying.

“Okay, put those away and let me explain,” he tells you, shaking his head. “I’m really sorry I did that to you, but I did it for a reason.”

You scoff, “Well, if that reason was to piss me off, I have some news for you—it fucking worked.”

“That wasn’t the reason. Not this time, anyway.”

Chuckling, Javier extends a hand, holding it out to you.

You peer at it. “What are you doing, Peña?”

“Ven conmigo, cielo. Tengo una sorpresa para ti.”

Suspiciously, you ask him, “What did you do?”

He laughs again. He knew it wouldn’t make it easy for him. “You do know how surprises work, right?”

You lift your chin. “I do and I don’t like surprises.”

“I know you don’t, but I think you’ll like this one.”

Javi continues to hold out his hand and waits.

He’s just as stubborn as you are, if not more.

“We can stand here all fucking night, corazón.”

Sighing in defeat, you place your hand in his, heart skipping a beat when he smiles and laces together your fingers with his own.

“Cierra tus ojos.”

“Javier, I don’t want—”

He quickly cuts you off. “Do you trust me?”

Of course. Hell, you trusted him with your life.

And not just because it’s a job requirement.

Huffing, you do as he says and close your eyes.

“Good.” Javier places his other hand on your waist and his fingers brush against the patch of smooth, soft skin peeking out from between the waistband of your jeans and the hem of your blouse. Ignoring his burning desire to feel more of you, he leads the way into the living room and positions you in front of the tree. Without dropping your hand, he moves to stand directly behind you, chest pressed lightly against your back.“Puedes abrir tus ojos, bonita.”

“Look Peña, I don’t know what you’re up to but—”

Your own startled gasp cuts you off mid sentence.

Squeezing your hand, he leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear and you can feel his grin as he whispers, “Sorpresa, preciosa. Tienes un arbol de Navidad. Qué tal te parece?”

You open your mouth to speak, then clamp it shut.

His surprise had left you speechless.

Pleased with himself, Javi nudges you towards the tree and then drops his hands down at his sides as he watches you gingerly touch the needles.

Closing your eyes, you inhale deeply, the delicious, woodsy smell of pine reminding you of your family and how you’d all pile into your father’s old pickup truck and head to the Christmas Tree Farm to find the perfect white spruce to take home. Your father took great care in the picking process—he wanted the tallest, fluffiest, most fragrant tree. “Need this place to smell like the farm!” he’d boom. You smile and can’t help but to think he’d approve of Javi—if not because of what he had done for you, then the choice in tree would be enough to win him over.

“Do you like it?” he asks, softly.

You open your eyes and whirl around. “Javi, I can’t believe you did this,” you say, breathlessly. Smiling brighter than the lights on the Christmas tree, you throw your arms around him. “I love it so much!”

He savors the embrace—and wonders if you know just how perfectly you fit right in his arms.

“There’s one more surprise,” Javier informs you as he spins you around to look at the tree once again. “Do you see it?”

“See what?” Peering at the tree, you frown. “What am I supposed to be looking for—wait a second, is that—is that Clara?” Your hand flies to your mouth and you look up at him in complete shock. “That’s the ornament my grandmother made for me when I was a baby! I’ve had her since my first Christmas. How did you—?”

“Santa no cuenta sus secretos.” Javi grins, pulling you closer against his side. “But if you must know, your mom sent it to me,” he confesses. “Actually, I have to be honest—this whole thing was her idea.”

Perplexed, you ask, “This was my mom’s idea?”

“I know you’ve been having a hard time being here during the holidays instead of with your family,” he says. “I called her up a couple of weeks ago, asked her what I could do for you. We started talking and came up with this.” He shrugs and touches a hand to the back of his neck, sheepishly. “I know it’s not the same as going home. But I thought it might be nice to bring a little piece of home here to you.”

Warmth blossoms inside of your chest as you turn to face him. You place a hand on his chest. “Javi?”

Nervously, his throat bobs. “Yeah?”

“Why did you do this for me?”

Javier lifts his hand and tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. “I told you. I just want to see you happy.”

“But why?”

You know why.

But you need to hear him say it.

You need to hear it from his own mouth.

Javi’s hand moves to cup the side of your face. “Is it not obvious?” he murmurs as he grazes the silky soft skin over your cheekbone. “Tú bien sabes qué yo siento algo por ti, hermosa. Aunque no sientas igual.”

“How do you know I don’t feel the same for you?”

“Do you?” His thumb sweeps your bottom lip. “Do you feel the same for me?”

Your hand curls around his red plaid flannel.

“I shouldn’t,” you admit. “We’re work partners.”

He feigns offense. “Ouch. And here I was, thinking we were friends.” He now takes your chin between his index finger and his thumb. Licking his lips, his eyes meet yours. “Breaking my heart, baby.”

Your breath audibly catches. “We are friends—and it scares me to put our friendship on the line.”

“But?” he prompts as he tilts your head up toward his. His opposite hand finds your hip and pulls you closer to him.

“But when you do things like this—it’s hard for me not to fucking fall in love with you, Peña.” You drag your hand down his chest, your fingers relishing in the softness of his flannel. “It’s so fucking hard for me not to fall in love with somebody who feels like home.”

Javier’s chuckles softly.

“For the record, this wasn’t a ploy to get you to fall in love with me, corazón. But if it worked—” Javier pauses, dropping his hand from your face. “Then I guess it’s worth pulling this thing out.”

He reaches into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Javi, what the hell are you—?”

He grins, holding the mistletoe above your heads.

“Connie said this might come in handy.”

Your eyes flicker to his lips, then meet his gaze.

“Ven aqui, Peña.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull Javi in and crash your mouth against his. You brush his bottom lip with your tongue and he grants you the access you’re looking for. He tastes like spearmint and scotch, and something else too.

He tastes like yours.

And he feels like home.

diver credit to @saradika-graphics ❤️

Translations

Yo hablaré con Messina, cariño. - I’ll talk to Messina, darling.

No hay caso para eso, Javier. - There’s no point, Javier.

Dejame ayudarte con esto. Yo solo quiero verte feliz. - Let me help you with this. I just want to see you happy.

Ven conmigo, cielo. Tengo una sorpresa para ti. - Come with me, I have a surprise for you.

Cierra tus ojos. - Close your eyes.

Puedes abrir tus ojos, bonita. - You can open your eyes, pretty girl.

Sorpresa, preciosa. Tienes un arbol de Navidad. Qué tal te parch? - Surprise, precious girl. You have a Christmas tree. What do you think?

Santa no cuenta sus secretos. - Santa doesn’t tell his secrets.

Tú bien sabes qué yo siento algo por ti, hermosa. Aunque no sientes igual. - You know all too well I have feelings for you. Even if you don’t feel the same.

Ven aqui, Peña. - Come here, Peña.

[seravphs]

lazybones

wc — 2k

tags — 18+ only, fem dom, sub gojo, riding

Have you been too hard on Gojo lately? 

You peek at him from the corner of your eyes. He’s next to you on the couch, freshly back from a mission. Even though he’s just sitting there, he’s being annoying again. It’s his presence, the general lack of respect that exudes from him. You clench your teeth against the urge to scold him. 

Playing teacher is a leftover habit from your school days. Yaga couldn’t control him, so you took it upon yourself. It took a lot of trial and error to figure out what made Gojo obedient. Taming the strongest is a delicate balancing act, never giving him too much of the carrot or the stick - right now, you might be teetering too much on the side of punishment. How long has it been since you gave him a reward? 

Gojo might be irritating, but he’s still deserving of respect as the pinnacle of Jujutsu society. He works hard, even if he doesn’t show it. 

You glance over at him again. He’s never injured when he comes back from missions, but sometimes there’s another problem he has to take care of. Since you first checked on his condition five minutes ago you've been waiting for him to ask for help or deal with it alone, but the visible bulge in his pants hasn’t gone away. The five minutes you gave him clearly wasn’t enough. 

You glance meaningfully between his thighs. “Are you going to take care of that?” 

“Nah,” he shrugs. “I’m exhausted. Too much work.”

Nodding, you return to your work. Halfway through shuffling papers, you realize that your threshold for normalcy has changed since knowing Gojo Satoru. He has that effect on people. Adapt or die. 

The couch shifts. Exasperated, you look over - only to see Gojo rolling his hips gently, grinding on nothing. His mouth is open and his eyes are closed as he pants softly. 

“Are you serious,” your voice is completely toneless. 

One eye cracks open, brilliant blue all the way to its core. “Hurts,” he groans. “This is the first time all week-“ 

“Can’t be that bad,” you say, even as you wonder why you’re entertaining this conversation, why you’re not getting up and leaving. “You look like you have all the time in the world. Can you even get off like that?”

“No.”

“Are you stupid?”

He moans. You know he’s only doing it to fuck with you. “Yeah, be meaner,” he goads. 

You don’t know why you’re saying it. “Do you need help?” 

He blinks. “Sorry?”

“Forget it,” your face burns. “If you don’t-“

“No, no,” he rushes to get the words out. “Help is good. Help would be great. Can you just, ah, can you-“

You reach over to palm him over his pants. He shudders, his spine taut as he arches instinctively towards your touch. His eyes roll back in his head. How badly did he need this? You shove his shoulders back so you have more room to work, preventing him from hunching over you. He grins up at you as you climb over him, straddling his thighs. 

“Shh,” you murmur. You don’t recognize your own voice. It’s sensual in a way you’ve never imagined you could be, especially not for him. There’s something soothing about it, melodic and low. “Don’t say anything. Just let me handle it.”

“Okay- ah, fuck,” he hisses as you grip him a little more meanly. 

“What did I say?”

Wisely, he doesn’t say anything. He’s always been a quick learner, usually the first to pick up on lessons. 

“Good boy,” you coo. A soft breath escapes through his half open lips. You settle on his lap, continuing to work him through pants until he can’t take it anymore and throws his head back, baring his throat. His Adam's apple bobs as he heaves for breath. It’s too tempting. You kiss a bead of sweat arcing down his neck, tasting the salt of his skin before you bite down. 

His muffled groan would tell you how much he liked it even if he wasn’t shaking with desire. Your lips curve into a smile against his neck before gracing him with another piece of evidence to carry with him tomorrow. 

When you pull back to survey him, there’s more red on his body than you left. He’s so wound up that he’s nearly bitten through his lower lip. You make a humming noise of disapproval at him, but it’s not a major concern when you have such an easy solution. 

He grabs at you as you climb off of him, but you shove his hands away. “Patience,” you scold as you tug your stockings off. His eyes light up, but you pity him. He doesn’t know what’s coming. 

You shove the black mesh into his mouth. “Keep that there until you can learn not to hurt yourself.” 

Whatever complaint he can voice through the fabric is lost as you drag his zipper down and reach into his boxers. His cock drools as you stroke him lazily, not putting too much thought into his enjoyment. This part is for you. 

It’s not enough, you know. He needs more stimulation. But you like the way he’s growing more and more needy. You want to drive him insane, want to see him lose everything for you. You want to peel back the persona of the strongest sorcerer and make him lose himself in lust. 

It’s almost sick, the way you want to see him brought low. A part of you wonders if you need to consider some kind of professional help for the enjoyment you’re deriving from this, the other, greater part is simply enjoying the high color in his cheeks. 

You know how to take him apart, piece by piece, and you do it with a beautiful, precise brutality. He breaks for you, lets you arrange him to your liking. 

“You can speak now,” you tell him, tugging your stockings out of his mouth. He moans in relief. 

“Can I- can I please come?”

“No one’s stopping you, sweetheart.”

He’s so out of it that he can’t control his expressions. You giggle at the face he’s making, almost sexier for how silly it is. You reach forward fondly to wipe the saliva at the corner of his mouth, doting on him. 

“So messy,” you murmur.  

The noise he makes in response is barely even human. 

“I can’t, not like this,” he whines. “Why are you torturing me?” 

“I’m not doing anything. You know what you have to do if you want to come.” 

He grins up at you, dazed. “You’re really going to make someone as pretty as me beg?”

“It’s because you’re pretty that I’m making you beg. Now come on, gorgeous. Put that mouth to work.” 

“You’re evil,” he whines. You can feel him twitching. 

“And?” 

“So mean,” there’s a slight hitch in his breath when your other hand reaches towards the nape of his neck, your nails gently scratching at his scalp. “You’re hurting my feelings, you know.”

Dragging your nail over the head of his cock produces a delicious shiver from him.“Come on, pretty boy. Don’t you want it?” 

He drops his head again, hanging over the back of the couch. “Fuck,” he pants. “Yeah. Please. I’ll do anything, please let me come.”

“Try a little harder.” 

He groans, throwing a hand over his eyes. “Damnit, what do you want from me?” 

You pull away. 

He yelps, scrambling towards you. “Wait. Wait! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. Please, come on?” 

“Tell me something I want to hear, princess.” Your strokes are slow, matching the tempo of your conversational tone. There’s a ruddy blush already spreading across his cheeks, dappled strawberry on cream. You want to bite it, so you do. Noise tears out of his chest, entirely authentic surprise. It’s only a second before you pull away, no harm done but the idea of it. Gojo scowls at you. 

It doesn’t change the fact that he got naked for you, or that he’s staying under you. You like him best like this, understanding of his place. 

A monster of a man, tamed just for you. 

“You’re obedient like a dog. Can you bark like one too?”

He gives you another scathing look which only merits a laugh. 

“No? Maybe next time.” 

You grip him a little tighter, rubbing your thumb into the sweet spot right under the head of his cock. He tries and fails not to twitch. It’s not good enough. You want to see him flail, sob, choke. You tease the sensitive tip and watch him crumble. 

“Fuck,” he whimpers. “Fuck, fuck, I’m so close, please.” 

His breath breaks on a moan, a strangled noise as he tries and fails to control himself. You love it, this part of him, still holding onto a quickly crumbling idea of pride or strength. It endears him to you so much you cup his cheek, comfort enough that he might be convinced to let go. 

His next word is lost in the sound of a hiccup as tears begin to build in the corner of his eyes. You can sympathize. He’s at the point where pleasure feels too good and everything begins to feel too sensitive, too painful. His nerves, already more refined than the average person’s, must be burning, yet he holds on. 

Not for much longer. You’ve built a rhythm now, stroking him fast, but he seems to love the manhandling. The rough treatment pushes him closer to the edge, closer to what you know he needs. His hips jerk with minute movements, trying not to drive you away once more. He wants to be good.  

He’s practically drooling as you push him around. The slick noises of your palm against his skin quicken as his abs clench, finally unraveling for you. You keep at it, stroking him through it to the edge of overstimulation. 

“Too much,” he whines. “It hurts!” 

You slow down. “So you don’t want more? Too bad, I was going to let you fuck me.” 

Gojo’s voice sounds ruined, but his hands are going to your hips instead of pushing you away. He tugs you even closer. You can feel him growing hard again, his cock pressed between your bodies. Even though he looks like he might sob if you keep toying with him, he nuzzles his head against your chest. 

“More, Satoru?” 

“Anything you’ll give me,” he promises. 

You test him first, offering nothing to test the limits of his sensitivity. He doesn’t whine anymore, knowing by now to let you do as you please. His big hands are splayed over your hips as he helps you bounce in his lap, fucking between your thighs, but not where he wants. 

“Can you even go again?” 

“I told you-” You decide that he can. “Oh god-” 

You’re hot and wet and tight around him. After so much teasing, his brain short-circuits. He said he could, but with the way he’s acting, you really don’t think he can handle it. You go to climb off him again, but Gojo moves before you can. 

“No,” he whimpers, hands pressing you down harder. He bucks his hips up, trying to get deeper, trying to fill you up. You don’t know how he still has the strength to carry you, but he’s the strongest, after all. He picks you up just to drop you back down onto him. 

You’re fucking like animals now, wet and messy. You can hardly hear anything over your combined moans and the noises coming from between the two of you, filthy, slick sounds. His hands are digging into your hips so hard that you can feel the bruises he’ll leave tomorrow. 

Every drag of his cock against your pussy is bordering on painful as he chases his own pleasure, blind to everything but his need to mark you. You’re so full it aches, but beautifully, until it transforms into something else, satisfying an all-consuming need inside of you. 

When you come, your orgasm wracks through your body. You clench down on him involuntarily, gasping as your pussy throbs around him. It ruins you, the way he presses up into you, trying to fuck you through it. Your thighs can’t stop trembling, your eyes rolling back in your head. You don’t want to imagine how you must look right now. 

“Close,” Gojo gasps out. He’s been reduced to monosyllables for the past few minutes, all wit vanished from him. No sooner than he says it, his head drops onto your shoulder as he presses you down onto his lap, spilling inside of you. You whimper at the feeling, heat spreading through your core. 

“What the fuck was that?” Gojo breathes shakily into the silence that ensues. 

“Just- just shut up,” you reply. You hadn’t expected it either. 

Gojo laughs and tucks a sweaty arm around you. “Were you hiding that from me all along? I mean, I knew you were into me, but-” 

You do the only thing you know will shut him up. You kiss him. His eyes are hazy when you pull back. 

“Um. Okay,” he says. “One more time?”

[yelena-bellova]

Twenty Years Later: Joel Miller x F!Reader - Chapter Six

Chapter Six: Road Trip

Plot: Joel, Y/n and Ellie continue to make their way cross country, and Joel and Y/n’s truce is heavily tested.

Warnings: tlou ep.4 spoilers, language, insinuation of killing, mention of a p*rn magazine, guns, (16+)

Word Count: 7.1k

A/N: This chapter feels like filler, but there’s still lil’ nuggets that will come into play later. Thanks to HBO for throwing that curveball of a Friday episode, now I gotta hustle to get the next chapter out within two days 😂

As always, this series is 16+ and I will not be tagging anyone who does not have their age in their bio. Gotta look out for younger eyes 👀

I hope you all enjoy this one and prepare for the next one because….anyway, enjoy!

———————

June 2nd, 2002. Austin, Texas.

——————

Joel and Y/n had gone out for three weeks, equaling a total five dates. Between their respective work schedules and Joel being a parent, they had to get creative if they wanted to see each other. They’d meet on their lunch breaks or, if they were too busy, Joel would stop by the hardware store in dire need of help finding something and only Y/n could possibly help him. It gave them a good twenty minutes or so to wander the aisles together.

On a particularly slow Tuesday afternoon, Y/n was doing inventory. Joel and her had made plans to grab coffee on his way home and she was counting down the hours till he came through the door.

A small voice broke her out of her daydreams, “Excuse me?”

Y/n turned and met the face of a girl, no older than maybe thirteen. She had dark skin and a head full of curls pulled back with a scrunchie. She looked slightly out of breath, but determined.

“How can I help you?” Y/n asked curiously.

“Are you Y/n?”

She confusedly furrowed her brows, “Yeah…”

The girl huffed with a grin, “Okay, good. I asked, like, three other people where you were and they had no idea.”

Y/n awkwardly smiled along with her, “C-can I ask how you know my name?”

“Oh,” the girl snapped back to the current conversation, “I’m Sarah.”

“Sarah…” Y/n repeated, wracking her mental index of high school friend’s kids, before it hit her. Her eyes widened, “Wait…Sarah…Miller?”

She nodded, “Yeah.”

Y/n’s body locked up, to say she was surprised was an understatement. Joel had told her that he wanted to wait a while before introducing her to Sarah. He hadn’t had a serious girlfriend since Sarah’s mom and was trying to figure out the best way for them to meet. Y/n hadn’t taken any offense, she’d supported it, actually. She’d never dated anyone with a kid and she wanted to do everything as close to perfect as she could.

“D-does your-“ Y/n braced herself against her inventory cart, “Does your dad know you’re here?”

Sarah’s mouth twisted, “Not exactly.”

“Uh-huh,” Y/n replied, suspicious, “And not exactly means…?”

“Not at all,” Sarah nervously smiled.

Y/n gathered the little oxygen left in her body and laughed. “How did you get down here if you’re by yourself?”

Sarah shrugged, “I took the bus.”

“Ah,” Y/n nodded, “And you ride the bus alone without your dad’s permission a lot?”

The girl gave a guilty smile and balanced on the heels of her Converse. It was all the answer Y/n needed.

“So, why are you here?” Y/n asked, feeling like she was doing something wrong.

Sarah sighed, “I got tired of waiting for my dad to introduce me to you. I’ve asked him, like, ten times and he keeps saying no. I knew you worked here so…I figured this was the only way I could meet you.”

Y/n couldn’t help but be a little touched, and also terrified. She was more nervous about impressing Sarah than she had been Joel.

“I mean,” Y/n rubbed her forehead, “Yeah, I knew your dad was waiting to introduce us but…I didn’t realize his daughter was a secret mastermind.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Sarah smiled, resting a hand on Y/n’s cart, “So…you’re dating my dad.”

Y/n nodded, “Seems that way, yeah.”

“Well, he really likes you,” Sarah replied, “Like, really likes you. He’s in a way better mood than usual.”

“Is he now?” Y/n inquired.

“He’s smiling all the time, he’s cooking,” Sarah’s face turned serious, “Which never happens ‘cause he kinda sucks at it. He’s even singing.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, “Singing?”

Sarah nodded, “Uh-huh. Just under his breath, but still…”

Y/n was trying hard to restrain her grin, but Sarah was making it difficult. It was nice to know Joel was as uplifted by their short time together as she was. She’d practically been floating down the aisles.

“He’s just never this happy and…” Sarah shrugged one arm, “I really wanted to meet whoever was responsible.”

“Well,” Y/n smiled, “Your dad’s pretty great. And he loves you, never stops talking about how well you’re doing in school and in soccer…”

Sarah’s posture visibly improved upon hearing the compliments.

“Look, my dad’s never going to work up the nerve to let us all hang out together,” Sarah began to explain, “But the county fair’s on Friday night, me, him and Uncle Tommy are gonna go and it would be really fun if you came.”

Y/n inhaled deeply, a family outing. Was she ready for that? Were her and Joel at that point?

“I don’t know, Sarah,” she hesitate, “I should really talk to your dad first.”

“No,” Sarah urged, taking hold of one of Y/n’s hands, “He’ll just get all squirmy and frown and say that it’s not time yet.”

Y/n thought for a second, “He does frown a lot.”

“A lot,” Sarah chortled, Y/n joining in soon after, “Just think about it. Please?”

Y/n was between a rock and a hard place, or rather, the guy she was dating and his crafty daughter. She wanted Sarah to like her and they were already a step in the right direction. She didn’t want to blow it.

“Okay,” she relented, “I’ll think about it.”

“Yes,” Sarah cheered under her breath, still holding onto Y/n’s hand. “I gotta go, the bus is gonna be back any minute.”

As she moved to go, Y/n took a step forward. “I-I really don’t like the thought of you on the bus by yourself,” she objected, “Why don’t I drive you?”

“But you’re working,” Sarah replied.

Y/n gestured to the empty space around them. “I think they’ll survive without me for twenty minutes.”

Sarah gave a small smile, she was getting to spend more time with the woman she had a million questions about. Sneaking around had paid off substantially.

“Come on,” Y/n removed her apron, draped it across her cart and pulled her keys from her pocket, “You can tell me what your dad’s been singing on the way.”

The two girls headed out of the store, giggling to themselves as Sarah did an impression of her father humming old country tunes to himself while washing dishes.

—————————

Later that afternoon, Joel arrived to pick Y/n up for their quick coffee. When he arrived, she was nowhere to be found. After asking around, and finding out she had stepped out momentarily, he decided to wait at the empty checkout line for her.

Y/n walked back into the store with a new spring in her step. Sarah had not only spilled a lot of dirt on Joel, but she had talked about herself a lot. Y/n felt like she’d already been able to make a connection.

Joel spotted her before she did him, waving a little to catch her eye.

“Hey,” Y/n greeted, apprehension taking over.

“Hey,” Joel replied, his smiling fading the closer he got, “What’s that look?”

“What look?” Y/n asked, unaware of how nervous she appeared.

“You look like a kid with their hand caught in the cookie jar,” Joel smirked, taking her hand lightly into his, “What’s going on?”

Y/n sighed, she’d been trying to figure out how to broach the subject of Sarah all the way back to the store. Joel’s gentle touch was only heightening her nerves. “Why don’t I drive us to coffee?”

Joel squinted in confusion, “Okay…”

The two of them drove off in Y/n’s old Toyota, but she waited until they had their drinks in hand and were walking down the main street to start talking.

“So Sarah came by today,” she blurted out.

Joel nearly choked on the sip he’d been taking, “My Sarah?”

“Uh-huh,” Y/n nodded, anxiously holding the cup close to her chest.

“H-how’d she get down the-“ Joel began to ask before pressing his lips together and shutting his eyes, “She took the bus, didn’t she?”

“Yep,” Y/n answered.

Joel sighed, he was already starting to find grey hairs across his head. Sarah was going to turn the whole thing silver before she was 16.

“She said she was tired of waiting for you to introduce us so she was going to do it herself,” Y/n retold the story.

“Yeah, sounds like her…” Joel replied with a loud sigh, “Look, I know you wanted to meet her-“

“Yeah, but I was perfectly fine with waiting,” Y/n was quick to say, “You said you wanted to do this the right way.”

“Yeah, well, the right way was decided for us,” Joel sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “So what’d you two talk about?”

Y/n smirked over her coffee cup, details of the conversation still fresh in her mind. “Girl stuff,” she answered, quickly taking a drink.

“Why don’t I believe you?” Joel asked with an eyebrow cocked.

“She, uh, she invited me to the fair this weekend,” Y/n changed topics, “With you guys.”

“Ah,” Joel nodded, he didn’t know whether or not to thank Sarah for speeding his relationship up. Lord knows, he was too nervous to do it.

Y/n held a hand up to Joel, “But I didn’t give her an answer. I wanted to talk to you first.”

With the obstacle of Sarah’s approval out of the way, there was nothing to stop him from saying yes. And he didn’t want there to be, he was just used to using excessive caution around his family that anything else felt unnatural. 

“You should come,” Joel answered, turning to Y/n with a shy smile.

Y/n inched back a little, placing her hand on Joel’s arm, “Are you sure? Joel, I don’t want to insert myself anywhere.”

“How can you insert yourself somewhere you were invited?” Joel replied, settling his hand over Y/n’s, “Come.”

Taking a deep breath, Y/n knew that this was a big step for them. Joel’s daughter was his world, and Y/n was being given the privilege of being a part of it.

She blew out her cheeks, “Okay.”

Joel’s smile was earnest, rubbing his thumb over the back of Y/n’s hand. 

“If all goes well, I won’t have to hide you so much,” he said.

“Yeah, I don’t think you’re doing that great a job,” Y/n chuckled at Joel’s confusion, “Johnny Cash?”

Joel’s face turned sour, “Can’t believe she told you ‘bout that.”

“Hey, I thought it was a cute story,” Y/n held her hands up in surrender, “Your daughter thought it was a laugh riot.”

Joel lightly rolled his eyes, letting them rest afterwards on Y/n’s face. A stray bit of hair had fallen in her face, thanks to the breeze, and Joel brushed it away, cupping her cheek.

Joel and Y/n had made the decision that they wouldn’t take their relationship any further without having Sarah’s approval. They had yet to even kiss.

“If this works out,” Y/n started, “You’re not gonna be able to get rid of me.”

“Who says I want to?” Joel muttered, their close proximity allowed him to lower his voice.

They both knew if they stayed in the moment a second longer, their wills could cave. Y/n shoved her coffee cup between their mouths, allowing them both a breathy laugh.

“Come on,” Joel reached down and clasped Y/n’s hand, “I gotcha for a little while longer.”

The two of them walked off into the Austin evening, savoring every short second they got together.

—————

2023. Somewhere in rural America.

Joel, Ellie and Y/n had been driving for one day and no one had yet to end up in a body bag. A win if ever there were one.

That wasn’t to say they hadn’t come close. Joel and Y/n’s truce was an uneasy one and with the promise made to Ellie that they’d get along, their arguments had phased to thin lipped smiles barely concealing their disdain for one another. Still, their guns had stayed in the holsters. That was progress.

Joel pulled over at an abandoned gas station somewhere, needing to refuel. Ellie headed off to the bathrooms while Y/n and Joel went about setting up the siphon.

As Y/n handed Joel a rag, she noticed the state of his hand. It was still healing, and after using it so much in one day, it was beginning to shake.

48 hours ago, she would have let him suffer, but in the interest of a truce…

“Here,” she scooted closer, taking the siphon into her hand.

“I got it,” Joel protested.

“I know you do,” she placated him, gently prying his hand off the device, “Now move.”

She inched him out of the way and took over attaching the device. Joel crouched next to her in the dust, he felt useless if he wasn’t working.

Footsteps signaled that Ellie was coming back. She glanced over the abandoned car at Y/n and Joel.

“We have to do this every hour?”  

“Gas breaks down over time,” Joel answered, “This stuff’s almost water. Back in the day, we’d drive 10, 12 hours on one tank. You could go anywhere.”

“So where’d you go?” Ellie asked.

Y/n continued working, bouncing the memories off that threatened to stick in her mind. 

“Pretty much nowhere,” Joel answered, it was technically the truth, but so there was unclaimed life resting in his ‘pretty much.’

Y/n huffed a large breath into the siphon, the gasoline dripping into their canister.

“Nice,” Ellie complimented, “How does that work?”

“It’s a siphon,” Joel explained as Y/n monitored their levels, “It’s when liquid…travels against gravity because pressure-“

Ellie nodded smugly, “You don’t know.”

“I know it works,” Joel quickly replied.

Y/n smirked and looked over her shoulder, “Please teach us more about physics, professor.”

Joel frowned at his ex before turning his attention back to a walking Ellie, “No wandering.”

Ellie thought a moment, “Okay,” she went into her backpack, “This is your fault then.”

She whipped out a small paperback that made Y/n shut her eyes in exhaustion. “Oh, sweet Moses, not that book…” she muttered.

Joel started to speak, “Wha-“

“‘It doesn’t matter how much you push the envelope,’” Ellie recited, “‘It’ll still be stationary.’”

Joel blinked, Y/n let her forehead rest against the car.

“‘No Pun Intended: Volume Too’ by Will Livingston,” Ellie held up the book to Joel, “Volume Too. Look, you get it? Too? Like t-o-o?”

Joel mumbled something under his breath and got up.

“‘What did the mermaid wear to her math class?’” Ellie asked her captive audience, building tension in the silence, “‘An algae bra,” she laughed, “Like algae bra. ‘I stayed up all night-“

“No,” Joel shook his head, like that word carried an ounce of power with Ellie.

“‘Wondering where the sun went,” the girl continued, “‘And then it dawned on me.”

“Feel free to wait in the truck,” Joel suggested, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Well, Y/n thought it was funny,” Ellie retorted, she’d tested the jokes our on her watcher back in the QZ.

“I laughed at one out of, like, fifteen, Ellie,” Y/n grunted as she got to her feet, “That’s not the win you think it is.”

“Okay, but just know,” Ellie held up the book again, “You can’t escape Will Livingston. He’ll be back. There’s nothing you can do to stop him.”

Ellie took her backpack and her jokes and walked back to the Chevy, leaving Joel and Y/n by themselves.

“You get that book,” Joel started, trying to break the silence, “I’ll roll down the window.”

“Oh, that’s not even the worst of ‘em,” Y/n replied, wiggling the toe of her boot into the ground, “But they make her smile. Like I’m in any position to put a stop to that.”

Joel glanced over at Y/n, taking a temperature reading of her once again. It was hard to see so much of the person you’d once loved with your whole heart mixed with who they’d become. Every once in a while, he got flashes of his ex-girlfriend in the light she used to radiate. But something inevitably came through and blew out her flame. More than often, all it took was his mere presence.

“We should be good,” he said, changing his train of thought and kneeling down to pack up the siphon.

Y/n took the gas they’d collected and carried it back to the truck. Heavy as it was, she wasn’t about to ask Joel to help her. She’d lived through twenty years of their dystopian hell-space, a gas can wasn’t about to best her.

Once the truck was filled up, Joel and Y/n hopped in the front seats with Ellie sitting in the back.

“Must’ve been some truck,” Ellie commented, staring out the back window at the fleet deserted vehicles.

“Yeah, they used to stick big-ass plows on them and clear the roads for their tanks and such,” Joel said.

Ellie spun around in her seat, “I wanna see a tank!”

“You will,” Joel replied, “Tanks, choppers, all that stuff. But they’ll fight the wrong enemy. Just scattered around now.”

By now, Joel was background noise to Ellie as she dug around the back of Bill’s truck.

“I got somethin’,” she announced proudly, waving another cassette tape in between Y/n and Joel. “Here, does this make you all nostalgic?”

Joel took the tape from her, it was Hank Williams. Y/n and him shared a sideways glance, if Ellie had any musical knowledge, they’d have been insulted. 

“This is actually before our time,” Joel handled the cassette.

“Great,” Ellie settled back in her seat, unamused.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not good,” Y/n stated, watching Joel pop the tape into the player and adjust the volume.

The speakers flooded with the warm sounds of the country legend. Something about it made both Joel and Y/n relax into their seats a little more.

“Oh, man,” Joel mumbled to himself, briefly closing his eyes and letting the music wash over him.

“Yeah,” Y/n absentmindedly replied, staring out her window.

“Got somethin’ else,” Ellie announced, the sounds of magazine pages flipping behind Joel and Y/n, “It’s, uh, light on the reading, but it has some interesting pictures.”

Y/n and Joel peered into the dashboard mirror, catching a graphic cover. Their protests overlapped.

“Oh, no, no, no, put that back.”

“Ellie, don’t read that.”

“That’s not for kids, Ellie.”

“There’s nothing you need to see-“

Ellie opened up the centerfold of the x-rated magazine, her jaw dropping at the sight, “How would he even walk around with that thing?”

“Ellie,” Y/n unbuckled her seat belt, flipping around in her chair and stretching into the backseat, “Put it back.”

The girl slid to Joel’s side of the truck, too far away for Y/n to reach. “Hold you horses,” she argued, “I wanna see what all the fuss is about.”

While Joel watched nervously through the mirror, Y/n was not so easily defeated. She kept clawing at the air, trying to rip the magazine out of Ellie’s hands. Ellie turned away just enough so Y/n’s fingertips barely touched the paper.

“Why are all the pages stuck together?” Ellie asked.

“Uh,” Joel elongated, unsure of what to do, “The-“

“I’m just fuckin’ with you,” Ellie burst into laughter, reaching past Y/n and slapping Joel’s shoulder with the magazine.

Y/n slid back into her seat, moving as far away as she could from Joel’s shoulder.

Ellie unrolled the back window, the whipping winds blowing through the truck. She tossed the magazine out with a grin, “Bye-bye, dude!”

Y/n sighed and put her hand to her temple, nearly laughing at the absurdity of the moment.

They drove for most of the day, answering Ellie’s occasional question, but mostly sitting in silence. Somberness would fall over the truck whenever they passed by some piece of the old world, ruined and rusted by time. They drove by an abandoned amusement park, a rickety coaster still standing. A sign for what used to be a Love’s truck stop. A bridge that had collapsed at some point in the last two decades. To Ellie, it was a lost future. To Joel and Y/n, it was the world they didn’t know if they’d ever see again.

When the skies grew began to grow dark, there wasn’t much driving left for them to do.

“All right,” Joel announced to the truck, “That’s enough for the day.”

One part of their agreement was that Y/n would trust Joel’s ability to get them to Wyoming. Her rebellion against his every word made her want to argue that they could go a little longer, but she was trying to keep up her end of the deal.

Joel pulled off the main road and drove them into the nearby forest. They set up camp deep enough that they were hidden, but close enough to the road to escape quickly, should the need arise. Joel and Y/n took care of preparing dinner, using a portable stove and cutlery they’d taken from Bill’s house.

Eventually, they all sat down to a lukewarm meal of ravioli. Ellie practically inhaled it while Joel and Y/n tried to make it last.

“Slow down,” Joel cautioned.

“This is slow,” Ellie replied with a full mouth, “What am I even eating?”

“That is 20-year-old Chef Boyardee ravioli,” Joel answered.

“That guy was good,” Ellie complimented, stuffing another piece in her mouth.

Joel stared down at his meal, “I actually agree.”

Y/n swirled a piece around her plate, “It’s technically food.”

“How long are we staying out here?” Ellie inquired.

“I figure I sleep tonight,” Joel answered, “And drive tomorrow, all day, all night, and get us to Wyoming by next mornin’.”

“You know I can take a shift, right?” Y/n asked, Joel’s stony silence served as his reply, “Ah, so you do know and you’re choosing to ignore it.”

“In the interest of gettin’ us there the quickest, it’s better I drive,” he stated.

“Yes, navigating a highway,” Y/n retorted, taking a sarcastic tone, “That’s men’s work.”

“What happened to getting along?” Ellie smirked as she watched the exchange.

Joel and Y/n glanced over at her and backed down. They had to watch themselves.

“So can we start a fire?” Ellie changed the subject, “I’m freezing.”

“Now, why am I gonna tell you no?” Joel replied shortly.

Ellie shrugged in defeat, “Because Infected will see the smoke.”

“No, fungus isn’t that smart,” Joel said, “This is too remote for Infected, anyway.”

“People?” Ellie came back with.

Joel nodded.

“So what are they gonna do? Rob us?”

“Oh, they’ll have way more in mind than that,” Joel answered, never once looking up from his plate.

Y/n had lived a vastly different life than Joel had, post apocalypse, but she knew the horrors people willingly committed against each other. Being cold for a night was the ideal.

Once the sun set, the three of them rolled out their sleeping bags, another courtesy of Bill and Frank, and set up for the night. Y/n laid her head next to Ellie’s, while Joel stayed on the complete opposite side of them.

Ellie took a whiff of the inside of her bag, “Actually smells kinda good.”

“Well, that would be Frank’s then,” Joel quipped.

“If mine smells like gunpowder,” Y/n held her sleeping bag up, “I’m gonna assume-“

“Bill,” Joel took no time in answering.

Y/n nodded, “Copy that.”

Before they could lay down for the night, Joel and Y/n made a point of each checking their shotguns and laying them at their sides.

Ellie and Y/n nestled into their accommodations beside one another, Ellie pulling something out of her backpack before switching the lantern off and turning on her flashlight. Y/n’s back was turned, or else she would have put a stop to what was about to happen

“Joel?” Ellie eventually called out, “Y/n? Joel?”

“What?” Joel jumped to attention, he still moved with the urgency of a father. 

Y/n turned over, “What is it?”

“Can I ask you a serious question?”

“Yeah,” Joel said for both of them.

Ellie sighed deeply, “‘Why did the scarecrow get an award?’”

Y/n and Joel both looked over at the same time to shoot Ellie a glare. She kept a straight face as if she really needed the answer.

“Because he was outstanding in his field,” Joel answered.

Y/n groaned, “Oh, God, there’s two of you.”

“You dick,” Ellie laughed, “Did you read this?”

“No,” Joel turned over, smirking only to himself, “Now go to sleep.”

Ellie victoriously smiled, having successfully chipped away at a little bit of the ice man’s exterior.

“Admit it,” Ellie whispered to Y/n, “You like them.”

“I will smother you in your sleep,” Y/n mumbled into her pillow. She’d never admit to cracking a smile.

They had just settled back into the sleepy silence when Ellie spoke up again, this time truly serious.

“Those people you said…there’s no way anyone knows we’re here, right? No one’s gonna find us.”

Joel and Y/n both stiffened, they could only guarantee so much. Where they were was as close to safe as they could get. But that wasn’t something you told a scared kid who wouldn’t admit to being scared. You gave them hope, confidence.

“No one’s gonna find us,” Joel confirmed.

“Okay,” Ellie accepted the answer and flipped over. 

Y/n lay on her back, staring up at the stars. Her paranoia had softened the longer she survived, but laying in the middle of the open woods with a big flashing red sign above that read ‘FREE KILL HERE’ was resuscitating it.

A few feet away, Joel was feeling the same thing. He couldn’t pretend like he was fearless leaving himself completely vulnerable. And now that he knew Ellie was nervous, it only woke him up further. He eyed the shotgun, calculating in his head how little sleep he could make the drive on. If he counted on Y/n to take one of the shifts, they could still make good time…

They both unzipped their sleeping bags at the same time, turning to one another in the dark. No matter how hard they tried, they were on the same wavelength.

Y/n sighed, “You take the first shift?”

Joel’s nod had a heaviness to it, “Yeah.”

Y/n settled back onto her side, this time facing where Joel was heading to take up his post. She fell into an uneasy sleep, only after keeping watch over Joel until her exhaustion forced her to stop.

——————

It was a few hours later, Joel eyelids were beginning to droop. His ears were beginning to ring. He needed sleep.

After doing one last scan of the area, he walked back to their campsite. He came over to Y/n’s sleeping bag, ready to wake her, but stopped.

He stared down at her, her lips slightly parted, her hair framing her face and her lashes fanned across her cheeks. The frown she carried throughout the day faded in sleep, softening to a content expression as if she was between the bliss of unconsciousness and the evil of the waking world. It was the most at peace Joel had seen her in the last few days.

He couldn’t bring himself to wake her up.

She’d be mad at him in the morning, he knew it. She’d berate him for thinking he didn’t need her and probably make a crack about him falling asleep at the wheel. That was fine, he thought as he went back to his post, he’d take it. Anger and nostalgia were waging a battle within him, and right now, he was allowing his wistful memories to win.

——————

Y/n woke up to the smell of coffee brewing and the rustling of something in their truck. Seeing that Joel wasn’t in his sleeping bag, she grabbed her shotgun and bolted upright. The barrel of the weapon found Joel, packing up the truck, cocking a brow at her.

Y/n exhaled and set down her gun, running a relieved hand over her face. “You didn’t wake me up,” she said when she came to fully.

“I had it covered,” Joel said softly, not wanting to wake Ellie yet.

“I didn’t ask that,” Y/n replied as she stretched, already annoyed with him. She rolled out of her sleeping bag and got to her feet. “Well, I’m driving this morning. I’m not ending up dead just because you’re stubborn.”

Joel didn’t look up as he tied his sleeping bag up. Right on cue.

“Coffee’s on,” he changed the subject.

Y/n felt like Joel knew that would distract her enough to move on. He wasn’t wrong. She reached over to grab her backpack, feeling around for her travel mug. Her hand graced the plastic butterfly she’d taken from Joel’s apartment, freezing as she did.

Grief, much like heartbreak, had to be danced around. If you got too close, self destruction would swallow you whole. Y/n collected her thoughts and led them back to where she was, quickly finding her mug and zipping the pack up again.

Ellie rolled over, awake finally, and sniffed the air. She scooted over to where Joel had the coffee boiling and carefully opened the lid. 

“Ugh,” she gagged, “What the fuck is that?”

Joel turned to her, “You don’t like coffee?”

Ellie grimaced, watching the bubbling brew a second longer before throwing the lid back down and rolling back onto her pillow.

“Uh-uh,” Y/n shook her head, nudging Ellie with her boot, “Up and at ‘em, come on.”

Ellie stuck her middle finger out, “Fuck you, man.”

“Up,” Y/n repeated, tugging on the bottom of Ellie’s sleeping bag.

The girl moaned and sat up, glaring at Y/n, who went to pour her mug of coffee. Whether it was the first sip of caffeine shifting her mood or she simply was making an effort, she wasn’t sure, but when Joel walked over with his mug, Y/n poured it for him.

“Thanks,” Joel mumbled, “Why don’t I drive for three hours, you take over after?”

“Two,” Y/n countered, “Those bags under your eyes make you look like you’re in a fucking Tim Burton movie.”

Joel sighed, remembering the truce. “Fine.”

Y/n and Joel finished packing up their supplies and the three of them were back on the road in minutes.

“Is that what the Starbucks in the QZ used to sell?” Ellie asked, eyeing Joel’s mug.

“Well, there’s was a lot fresher than what Bill saved up, but yeah,” Joel answered, “This is what they sold.”

“The world used to run on this stuff,” Y/n added.

“Smells like burnt shit,” Ellie mused, smirking over at Joel.

Joel, straight faced as could be, raised his mug and took a big slurping sip. Y/n bit down on her lip to keep from rewarding him a laugh. 

“Eyes on the map,” Joel ordered.

“76 west and then 70 west for, like, ever…” Ellie read, Y/n had taught her how to navigate directions and she was still getting the hang of it.

“Where in Wyoming did you say your brother was?” Ellie asked Joel.

“Last contact came through a radio tower close to Cody,” Joel answered.

Ellie scanned the map, “Cody. Cody…Cody…ah, man. That is deep up in there.”

Y/n peekd over Ellie’s shoulder to take a look, “Do you know where he would have gone other than there?”

“Odds are he’ll be near a settlement,” Joel answered, “Probably close to another city out there. Ain’t too many of ‘em in Wyoming.”

The second part of his reply was meant more for Ellie. She was getting a crash course in geography.

“Chee-Yen,” she read off.

“Cheyenne,” Joel corrected, he’d studied that map so intensively that he could have found his way around the state blindfolded.

“Chey- really?” Ellie double checked before reading again, “Cheyenne…Laramie…Casper? What’s his name?”

“Whose name?” Joel asked, avoiding the question another five seconds.

“Your brother,” Ellie replied.

Joel paused, “Tommy.”

A wave of nostalgia crashed around Y/n, hearing his name made her think of cheap beer and belly laughter.

“Younger or older?” Ellie continued to question Joel.

“Younger.”

“Why isn’t he with you?”

Joel sighed, stretching his neck out slightly, “A long story.”

“Is it longer than 25 hours? ‘Cause I think that’s what we got,” Ellie asked, turning around to Y/n, “Do you know?”

“No, I don’t,” Y/n clocked Joel in the dashboard mirror, “And if I’m risking my life to find him, I think I deserve to know.”

Joel met her eyes in a fleeting glance, she was backing him up against a wall.

“Tommy’s what we used to call a “joiner,” he began to explain, “Dreams of becomin’ a hero. So he enlisted in the Army right outta high school. A few months later, they ship him off to Desert Storm,” he allowed for Ellie’s confused gaze, “That’s what they called that war, it doesn’t matter. Point is, bein’ in the Army didn’t make him feel much like a hero. Cut to twelve years late, outbreak happens. He convinces me to join a group makin’ their way up to Boston, which I did…mostly to keep an eye on him, keep him alive.”

Y/n’s stomach turned, she wasn’t just hearing about what had become of Tommy…she was hearing about what had happened to Joel after they broke up. Gaps she’d wanted filled for twenty years.

“It’s where we met Tess,” Joel continued, breaking for a sip of coffee, “And that whole crew, we, uh…well, for what it was, it worked. And then Tommy meets Marlene. She talks him into joinin’ the Fireflies. Same mistake he made when he was eighteen,” Joel’s tone turned bitter, his voice quivering an almost undetectable amount, “Wants to save the world. Pipe dream. Him. Fireflies, all of ‘em…” he didn’t dare meet Y/n’s eyes, “Delusional.”

Y/n lifted her feet up and hugged her knees, she knew the remark was meant for both her and Tommy. And while her anger with Joel hadn’t lost its momentum, she let him continue. He needed to get it all out.

“‘Course last I heard, he quit the Fireflies too,” Joel went on, “So now he’s on his own out there, and…I gotta go get him.”

The car was washed in a somber silence. Only one of them was brave enough to break it.

“If you don’t think there’s hope for the world,” Ellie said, “Why bother going on? I mean, you gotta try, right?”

“You haven’t seen the world,” Joel said, a little wistful, “So you don’t know. You keep goin’ for family. That’s about it.”

The five words pierced through Y/n’s heart, the wooden arrow splintering inside the chambers. Each syllable was like taking a knife to the carefully placed stitches around her soul.

“I’m not family,” Ellie said, blissfully unaware of the situation surrounding her.

“No,” Joel agreed, “You’re cargo. And I made a promise to Tess. And she was like family.”

Numbness set in and Y/n rested her head against the window, focusing on the rolling fields of rural America. If Ellie wasn’t in the car, she would have let herself go off on Joel, but it wasn’t the time.

“What if you don’t find him?” Ellie asked the man.

“I will,” Joel replied,

“How do you know?” 

“I’m persistent,” Joel stated before switching gears, “You got up pretty early, if you wanna grab more sleep.”

Ellie scoffed, “I’m not even tired.”

Within a few minutes, Ellie was beginning to doze off. Y/n gently tapped her shoulder, gesturing for her to climb into the backseat. She helped pull her through and Ellie settled against the opposite window.

Joel drove them for an hour in silence before Y/n couldn’t stand being still anymore.

“Pull over,” she told him, “Let’s switch.”

Joel was tired enough to listen to her, stopping the car in the middle of the road. They unbuckled and got out, meeting at the front. 

“You’re wrong, you know,” Y/n said once they were face to face, “About Tommy, about the Fireflies…all of it.”

“You wanna prove me wrong, have at it,” Joel replied, disgruntled by the whole idea.

“Tommy wanting to be a hero is him wanting to help people,” Y/n kept going, “To fight. To do the right thing. When has that ever been a bad thing?”

Joel nearly scoffed, “Maybe when it gets him killed.”

“If he’s still here after all these years, maybe you need to stop looking at him like he’s some idiot kid. You don’t get to judge the people who are trying to get some of this,” Y/n spread her arms out to the wide open space around them, “Any of this back. It’s a hell of a lot more than you seem to be doing.”

Joel rested a hand on the truck’s hood, “Maybe I don’t feel the need to waste my time on a pointless cause. Last time I checked, that was all the Fireflies ever accomplished.”

“At least I’m doing something,” Y/n fought back, “I’d rather spend the rest of my life on a pointless cause and go to sleep with what’s left of my soul than sell it to the devil and not recognize my own damn reflection.”

Joel felt the last part of her sentence push into his gut like the tip of a spear. She was hitting too close to home without knowing it.

“‘Keep going for family,’” Y/n repeated, practically spitting the last words, “When was the last time you fought for anything?”

Joel reached out, grabbing Y/n’s arm roughly as she turned away and spun her around. If she hadn’t dug her boots into the asphalt, she would have fallen right into him.

“You don’t know what I’ve fought for,” he growled, his eyes boring into hers.

Y/n’s chest rose and fell rapidly with rage, inching her face closer to his to show him she wasn’t afraid of him. “Neither do you,” she seethed.

Their breaths mingled in the few inches left separating their mouths. Neither one of them were making any real threats, there was simply too much tension between them to ensure a safe car ride. They needed to let it out.

Joel realized his fingers were digging into Y/n’s arm, it had happened when she had moved closer to him. Habits were tricky to break, but the body didn’t hold grudges like the mind.

The close proximity wasn’t lost on Y/n, but she was able to free herself from it before muscle memory took over. She yanked her arm out of Joel’s grip and took the keys from his other hand, stomping around to the driver’s seat and getting in. Joel unhappily followed, and their wordless journey continued…

—————————

Joel caught maybe thirty consecutive minutes of sleep while Y/n drove them. It wasn’t that she was a bad driver, he just wasn’t used to not being in control of a situation. He gripped the map tightly as they drove into downtown Kansas City.

Surrounding them were rusted abandoned vehicles, but the tunnel in which they needed to go through was blocked entirely by a semi. Y/n brought the car to a halt, glancing over at Joel knowingly.

“Wait here,” she told Ellie, who had just woken up.

Joel and Y/n got out, Joel grabbing their shotguns from the backseat. He handed hers over and the team took calculated steps towards the tunnel. Joel crouched down to get a peek at the open road waiting on the other side of the mess. The semi was parked that way deliberately.

Joel walked back to the truck, Y/n only a step behind him. They got back in their seats seat, Ellie squeezing over the glove compartment. 

“Where are we?”

“Kansas City,” Joel answered quickly, taking the map from her. The three of them studied it.

“How far back do we have to go to get around this?” Ellie asked.

Joel traced their route with his fingertip, Y/n tugged the map closer so she could study it too. There weren’t a lot of options if they had a prayer of getting to Wyoming within their time frame. They could either go back, costing them a few more hours, or take their chances passing through the city.

Y/n sighed, everything she was about to say went against what she wanted to say….

“It’s your call.”

Joel was honestly surprised that she had relented so quick. “Screw it,” he muttered, “Head back ‘round the tunnel, get on the next ramp. We’ll be back on the road, minute tops.”

Y/n put the truck in reverse and backed them up, swinging around a shoulder of road that would take them into the city.

“You guys are my eyes,” Y/n said as she navigated the first set of streets, 

“Tell me where to go.”

“Look for any signs,” Joel instructed while Ellie read the map.

They drove for about five minutes, having gotten no closer to finding the open road.

“Where the fuck is the highway?” Joel complained.

“I can’t tell from this,” Ellie let her hand fall against the map, “I’m all turned around.”

Joel was trying to help Ellie navigate while also keeping an eye peeled for potential threats. “Well, don’t look at the state map, look at the inset,” he directed.

Ellie groaned, “Well, I don’t know where we are in that either! This is my second day in a fucking car, man. I mean, I think we’re heading north?”

“I don’t even see any fucking signs,” Y/n mentioned.

“It’s gotta be the right,” Joel said, shaking his head, ”What the fuck?”

“Y/n stop,” Ellie exclaimed.

Y/n threw on the brake, bringing them to a halt in the middle of the street.

“Is that the QZ?” Ellie asked, her eyes wide as she peered over Y/n, “Where the fuck is FEDRA?”

Joel and Y/n got a look at where the Quarantine Zone should have been, zero military presence. That was unfathomable.

“Hey,” a voice called, their attention was drawn to a man limping towards their truck, “Please help.”

Y/n and Joel’s blood ran cold, they knew exactly what was about to go down.

“Put your seatbelt on,” Joel told Ellie, throwing his on as well.

“Aren’t we gonna help him?” Ellie asked innocently.

Y/n said a silent prayer to anyone who was listening for survival.

“No,” Joel answered, looking to his ex, “Drive. Now.”

Y/n pressed her foot down on the gas pedal, the “injured” leaping out of the way. The man cried something out she couldn’t hear over the blood pounding in her ears.

“Y/N!” Ellie screamed.

Y/n was too busy driving to see what Ellie and Joel were watching, but the message was received when a large object got dropped on their windshield. Y/n swerved, Joel reached over to steady the wheel as she regained control. In their mad dash effort, they didn’t notice the strip of nails ahead of them. The truck shook as its tires began to deflate. 

“Fuck!” Y/n yelled, “What do we do?”

“Hard right into that building,” Joel shouted, there was another guy in their path, “Now!”

Instincts ignored, Y/n pulled to the right, holding her breath as they smashed through the glass windows of the nearest building.

——————

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[vodika-vibes]

could I have Fives with garnet at night? maybe meets the reader at 79s and saves them from a creepy dude?? if that doesn't vibe with you, make it whatever you want xx

You're Worth It

Summary: You should have known better than to come to the club with your friends, they always ditch you after all. Luckily, a handsome clone comes to your rescue.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Fives x Reader

Word Count: 637

Prompt: Garnet - Protective Love

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Thank you for your request! I hope this is close to what you wanted~

You need some new friends. The friends that you’ve been running around with since you were all in diapers are not the best friends you could have asked for. By any definition of the word. 

Seeing as they ditched you as soon as they realized that they might hit it off with some of the people here.

Leaving you, all by your lonesome, to get cornered by a man who smells like a walking brewery. 

He’s so drunk, in fact, that you’re not entirely sure what he wants. His words are all slurred together into a jumbled mess of words. Though you’re pretty sure he’s hitting on you.

That, or he’s trying to sell you speeder insurance.

You hold your hands up, trying to keep him from leaning into your personal space, and it’s…not working.

You’d sell your right arm for one of your friends to notice that you’re in need of a rescue. But you can’t even see any of them.

“Ah, there you are!” A strong arm slings around your shoulders and you’re tugged into a broad chest, “Honestly, babe, you can’t just wander off like that.”

You blink, bewildered, at the man standing slightly in front of you. A clone, with a five tattooed on his forehead. He’s handsome, but then, all of the clones are, and has a rakish grin on his face.

“Sorry,” You say automatically, and his grin softens before he tosses a wink in your direction, “I got turned around.” You add.

“Totally understandable, there’s a bunch of people here.” He squeezes you a little tighter, “Excuse us, we need to get back to our table.”

The drunk man slurs something, and apparently your savior speaks drunk, because he doesn’t look the least bit confused.

“You’re very drunk, you should probably go for a walk. Get some fresh air.”

The drunk man rears his fist back as though he’s about to punch the man standing slightly in front of you. And you hazard a glance at the clone, he looks bored, and you feel a little silly for being so worried about him.

The man protecting you, moves slightly and nudges you to the side as the drunk man finally throws his punch, and ends up toppling to the floor. “Um…”

“Come on, leave him be. Someone will come and take care of him.” He ushers you away from the toppled man, and then grins at you, “Fives.”

“Beg pardon?”

“My name. It’s Fives.”

“Oh!” You hurriedly introduce yourself, and his smile widens. He really is very handsome. And apparently you’re a little more out of sorts than you thought because those very words fall from your lips.

Fives’ grin widens, “Thank you. I happen to think you’re stunning too.”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t use the word stunning.”

“But you meant it though, I can tell.” Fives winks at you, and tugs you onto the dance floor, “Now, because I saved you from that awful drunk man, you should dance with me.”

“Is that right? Is this your payment?”

“Sure. But I’d do it anyway.”

You frown at him thoughtfully, even as you slide your arms around him, allow him to tug you closer, “You could have been hurt. What if he had a weapon?”

“Well, better I got hurt than you.” Fives replies with a small grin.

“No one is worth that!”

“I disagree. You clearly are.”

You’re struck silent by his sincerity, and his grin softens, “Now, let’s dance. And then, maybe, if you’re interested, we can go and get some caf?”

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yeah. I am.”

“Oh.” You blink at him, “...there’s a cafe not far from here that sells the tea that I prefer-” You offer hesitantly.

“Sounds like a plan to me. But first we have to dance.”

[loomisadvocate]

the inevitable 𖤐 part five

woodsboro would soon be a distant memory - but some things would make it hard to forget.  

pairing: billy loomis x fem!reader

word count: 7.4k (holy shit i am so sorry)

tags/warnings: strangers to enemies, enemies to lovers, smut (eventually), angst, slow burn (heavy on this), cursing, alcohol and marijuana, make out scene who cheered!, probably others i'm forgetting.

a/n: clearly i got a little carried away with this part... it's the longest one to date. i hope that's not a bad thing. not 100% edited bc i promised i would post today. enjoy!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

masterlist

“I’m sorry, he actually said enchanting?”

Tatum stifles her laughter to avoid any of her soda passing through her nose. That, and to avoid any more stares from the old woman who’d been glaring at Tatum over her less-than-modest plaid skirt. You nod, scrunching your nose up at the memory.

Your outing with Tatum has, so far, been spent filling her in on your entire Billy situation. It was prompted by her asking why, and you quote, “rat-boy,” was so hellbent on the group knowing in the first place, seeing as you’d only formally known each other for a few weeks. In the spirit of having no more secrets, you gladly answered her question.

You started from the very beginning: how a seemingly innocent conversation about red wine versus white turned into a quick trip to the garage that ended in telling him your plans to move. If Tatum thought the garage incident was hilarious, she was sure to piss herself when you told her about him coming to your window.

“Wait for it; it gets much worse.” You laugh along with her and take another bite of the pretzel you were sharing, wiping cinnamon sugar dust off on a useless paper napkin. “So then a week later, I’m writing my paper and hear something outside. I’m thinking it’s a small animal or something, but no. Guess what?” You pause for dramatic effect, Tatum raising an eyebrow and waiting expectantly. A few seconds go by before her hand smacks on the table and she gasps.

“Shut up!” The old woman next to you grunts and picks up her belongings, clearly fed up with your friend’s dramatic reactions. Tatum doesn’t care, and neither do you. If people looked at you and saw two high school seniors behaving like they were spilling middle school gossip, you couldn’t care less. You’d been waiting for more moments like these with her, and you’d be damned if you let a stranger spoil it with just a dirty look.

Tatum lowers her voice and leans in closer to you. “Shut up. He came to your house. Through your window?”She confirms with you, and you nod with your nose scrunched up.

“And I actually let him in, which is the even crazier part. But I talked to him—like, actually talked to him, Tatum. And he wasn’t that unbearable. Then, for whatever reason, he just flipped a switch.” You run a hand through your hair and push the pretzel towards her. Thinking about it all was taking away your sweet tooth. 

What confused you the most about Billy Loomis is why, all of a sudden, he made fucking with your circle a personal mission. You racked your brain, thinking perhaps you had offended him by accident and didn’t realize it. You’d been doing that over and over again, coming up empty each time. Tatum knew him much better than you did and had a different angle, seeing as her boyfriend was the boy’s best friend.

“I think Billy is just a shithead and likes to get under people’s skin. He’s really good at it,” she offers. You already had the opportunity to learn that the hard way. “So what happened after you guys talked? Did you throw him out on his ass?” She asks with a giggle, getting a kick out of the mental image of you grabbing him by his hair and tossing him out of the window. A bit morbid, but a girl could dream.

You hesitate to answer. It’s not that you wanted to lie again; god no, that was the last thing you wanted to do. But something about telling another soul about the tension and the bubbling desire you’d been feeling in your gut since meeting him? It felt eerily similar to the reason you took so long to tell Tatum about leaving; it would make it real. You were perfectly content living in denial for as long as it took, even if that was up until the moment the moving van drove away.

You don’t answer, and Tatum kicks your leg lightly under the table. “Hello?’ She draws it out, waving her hand in the air. “What, did you guys make out or something?”

“No!” You shout immediately—defensively and hopefully convincingly. A few more people turn to look due to your quick outburst. “He got all... angry? Called me ungrateful and said I needed to wrap up my pity party. So I called him an asshole, and then..." You trail off at the memory. He taunts you, his lips now ghosting over your temple and his slim fingers resting on your hip. Through the thin, unreliable material of your t-shirt, you could feel him tracing circles. 

“And then what?! You’re killing me here.” Tatum is growing more impatient by the second, like she’s heard the juiciest rumor about her favorite celebrity on TV, and suddenly the signal goes out. You look at her with uncertainty. Truthfully, you weren’t even entirely sure what had happened yourself. “I swear to god if you don’t spill.”

“And then it got weird,” you continue. Tatum doesn’t speak for you to know she’s asking how it got weird. “He got really close to me, like he was going to kiss me. And then he just didn’t? He said I should finish my paper and said my secret wouldn’t last much longer. Then the party happened, and he tried to give me a ride to school this morning. Well, I accepted the ride only ‘cause I would’ve been late and—“

“Whoa, we aren’t going to just skip that part. You guys almost kissed?!” Your best friend was crazed by all of this. Finding out you were moving, that Billy had it out for you, and that he had made a half-move on you all in one day was a bit much, even for her. She had absolutely zero interest in your ride to school this morning. Besides, she would be reinstating herself as your chaffeur starting tomorrow anyway. 

"It was just weird and tense; nothing crazy happened. But it was definitely something. I just don’t know what his angle is.” You shrugged the entire thought away, entertaining it felt distasteful.

Admittedly, you hadn’t reached the point of being repulsed by him. The Billy you’d met a month ago was lingering in every crevice of your brain. Even the Billy that appeared in your bedroom seemed more kind, more palatable in some sense. Billy had proven thus far to be, if nothing else, a complete wildcard. You weren’t sure which Billy you would get on any given day. One day he is mocking you in your bedroom; the next he’s embarrassing you; and after that, he’s offering to bring you to school.

It was all too confusing, and your mind being seemingly detached from your body was not helping. The manner in which he could keep you frozen in place with a single look, your eyes the only part of your body able to move. Tracing over his stature, his lips, and his hands. It was positively disturbing. Now it had happened not once but twice, and everyone knows what they say about the third time.

"It sounds like he wants to see if he can get the library girl to open up more than her books." Tatum giggles and finishes off the sugary snack, crumpling up the paper to toss into the trash later. You don't respond; you're still fantasizing about the night in your room. Even when he wasn't in proximity he was able to throw your focus. What you fail to notice is Tatum's dawn of realization—the revelation that occurs while you're daydreaming. 

"Oh my fucking god, you want to screw him!" She says it accusingly, pointing a finger at you. This is definitely enough to catch your attention. Your mouth is agape, but nothing comes out in your defense. After stuttering a few times, you manage to say something; however, it doesn't remedy much. 

"Tatum, I don't want to screw him! He's horrible. Abhorrent, even." You throw in a big word in an attempt to throw her off your scent. Tatum knows you. She's known every guy you've thought to be remotely cute based on how you look at them. You never made a move on anyone the entire time you'd been in town. Partly because you preferred to avoid any serious attachments and strife when you eventually moved, but also because boys just weren't something you prioritized. 

"You're basically drooling just thinking about it. God, no wonder there's so much tension." Tatum is enjoying every second of this. Maybe a small part of her is doing it on purpose, just as a little payback for what happened. Your willingness to talk to her about it, despite how humiliating it was for you, didn't go unnoticed. What killed you was how on the nose she was. It felt good to have your best friend in the loop on what would likely be your first and last real boy problem until the end of the school year. 

"Ugh, you're right." You confess, unable to even laugh. Instead, you grab the hair at the top of your head and rest your face on your palms.  "What do I do, Tatum?" You ask for guidance; your voice muffled. First you hear the slurping of the rest of her soda; she'd run through hers in record time.

"Just mess around; you're leaving soon anyway. He’s clearly into you, in his own bizarre, freakish way. What's the worst that could happen?" Tatum answers nonchalantly, and it earns an incredulous look from you. Tatum had personally ensured Billy was nowhere within five feet of you up until last month, and now she was encouraging you to sleep with the enemy? 

"You're insane. I'm not going to mess around with him. He's an asshole; he has no respect, and he's made it clear he likes seeing me miserable.” You shake your head and lean back in your chair; one of the legs must be shorter than the rest because it's been rickety since you sat in it. 

“True, but maybe he could like you? The only person who knows what Billy is thinking is Billy. Stu probably doesn't even know what happens in his bird brain." She offers an explanation, and you can't exactly disagree. You never knew what his motive was, and clearly, he kept his cards close to his chest. 

"I know he's a dick; trust me," she continues. "And I'm definitely not a fan of him after what he pulled. But it's almost summer, and you've never even gone on a date with someone. Obviously, it's not a necessity, but you could probably benefit from a little something to take the edge off. You are a little bit uptight." Tatum's hands are clasped on the table as she tries to reason with you. Not only are you still in shock that she's suggesting this, but now you're surprised to find yourself agreeing.

Even so, there was still the matter of addressing his little stunt. Now that you and Tatum were fine, the next two things to take care of were, first, Randy, and secondly, the fucker that caused all of this in the first place. 

"I can't believe you're telling me to screw around with Billy Loomis." You state, frankly, with a twinge of amusement donning your features. 

"I can't believe you were already thinking about screwing around with Billy Loomis. You wear your thoughts on your face, by the way." Tatum smiles at you patronizingly, but you know it's with a light heart. You definitely had a lot to think about, but most of it needed to wait until after you tracked down Randy. 

The squirrely one of the group was hardly ever taken seriously, but you knew that in this situation he needed to feel heard. He truly did see you as a sister. Whenever Stu would shoot down his ideas, you were always one step behind him, coming to his defense. You always said yes when he asked to hang out after school, mainly because he would go into a dramatic monologue about how much you hated him if you said otherwise.

Even though Tatum was your best friend, it was an unspoken feeling among all of you that Randy had somehow gotten the shittiest end of the stick. Randy was chaotic and, at times, unpredictable, but in a lot of ways, he was the one who bridged everyone together. You were positive that if Randy wasn't part of the group and hadn't pulled you from the library so many times, you wouldn't have gotten as close to Tatum. In the same beat, Randy was a simply guy. You knew an apology and a promise of grabbing food (on you, of course) would likely be enough. You still wanted to make it up to him.

With a clap, you stand up, ready to get out of the food court that was quickly starting to fill up with more people. The mall on a Monday afternoon was, believe it or not, one of the more entertaining places to go around town.

"No more Billy-talk; let's go. I need to find Randy." Tatum agrees quickly, standing up and tossing all of your trash in the bin before looking around in her bag for her car keys. Tatum agreed to stop by the video store on the way back and wait for you to talk to Randy. She assured you that he wasn’t angry, and noted that it wasn’t really in his nature to get angry anyways. That brought you much more comfort. 

"For the record, fooling around when you're mad at someone is so much more fun. Why do you think I start fights with Stu so often?" Tatum twirls her car keys around her pointer finger and catches them in her palm. "Let's roll, Arizona," she says in a deep voice, earning a light smack on the arm from you. 

You push Billy to the back of your mind for now, where he sits at any given moment lately. Perhaps Tatum was right, but if you were going to fool around with Billy Loomis, you were going to need to get your nerves in check. 

Your talk with Randy was equal parts amusing and proactive. As Tatum informed you, Randy was nowhere near angry. Hurt, yes. Shocked, absolutely. But Randy, like your best friend, also knew that you couldn’t be an awful person if you tried. All of your self-hatred over the situation now felt slightly hilarious. You’d caught Randy at the beginning of his shift, luckily for you. That meant he wasn’t annoyed by people making, in his opinion, subpar movie choices just yet.

You’d given him a very similar spiel to the one you gave Tatum, filled with an obscene amount of “I’m sorry’s” and a very long hug. You had to remind him you weren’t leaving that night to get him to pull away. Nonetheless, it appeared that a lot of your worst fears were no cause for concern. Nobody (that you knew) hated you or would be cursing your name for the foreseeable future. 

Randy did make it a point to really hammer that Windsor College was still taking applications despite the priority period ending already. He and Tatum had applied as soon as they opened, wishing to get as far away from Woodsboro as possible. Why it ended up being Ohio of all places you had no idea. Still, you rattled the idea around in your head. You figured it couldn’t hurt, but that was something you had to speak to your parents about.

The last you’d heard, your father was planning on taking a book deal that required him to live in New York in order to be close to the publishing company. Out-of-state tuition was likely going to be way too expensive, even with grants and scholarships. If you were able to convince him to agree on Ohio, you wouldn’t have to completely start over in the friend department.

Tuesday morning arrives, and for the first time since last Friday, you wake up without a weight on your chest. Your usual morning routine ensues, and it’s music to your ears when you hear the familiar horn of Tatum’s car outside your window. The ride to school felt even better today; after all, you didn’t have an impudent troll following you until you got into the car. Stu is taking up his usual spot in the passenger seat, his seatbelt evidently not on. Midway to school, he turns around, practically on his knees in the seat, which earns a reprimand from Tatum.

“So how are things with you and Randy? All better now?” He asks enthusiastically, a twinkle in his eye telling you he was probably asking because he wanted some juicy drama to laugh at.

“Yep, we’re all good. All is right in the world again, or whatever.” You nod once and keep your answer brief, refusing to give in to his wish. Your relationship with Stu was interesting, to say the least. You didn’t quite know him well, but his personality made it easy for you to take his banter in stride instead of taking it offensively.

“And what about things with Billy?” He asked immediately after, and Tatum slapped his shoulder quite harshly. You can see in the rear view that she is glaring at him. You scoff and direct your attention to her.

“You told him? Him of all people?! Tatum!” You lean forward and push Stu away by putting your hand over his face, staring at your best friend with a look of betrayal.

“He was gonna hear about it eventually; besides, he technically brought it up first!” She defends herself, pointing the finger at her boyfriend. You look between the two of them beyond confusion; what reason could Stu possibly have to bring up you and Billy? You raise both of your eyebrows at him, waiting for him to speak.

“You guys were like, eye-fucking each other on Friday. I didn’t know if I should feel awkward or kind of turned on,” he starts cackling as you start hitting him repeatedly.

“Don’t. Even. Go there!” You pause between each word, giving him a final slap on the top of his head. Stu was probably the least observant of everyone. If he and Billy were Dumb and Dumber, he was definitely the latter (which wasn’t saying much, really).

"Hey, fucking chill! I'm all for you getting some. A little weird it's from him, but maybe it'll fix that uptight attitude you've got going on," his words echo the ones his girlfriend had uttered to you less than twenty-four hours prior. 

"Why do you guys think I'm uptight?!" You immediately shift into an even stronger defense mode, pleading frantically to the couple in the front seat for some kind of answer. You were no idiot; you had enough self-awareness to know that perhaps you could take your unyielding need for structure and order down a couple of notches.

Stu catches that you don't comment on 'getting some' from his best friend, and sticks his tongue out at you. "Arizona's fucking Billy!" He yells it as Tatum parks in her usual space, loud enough that if the windows were down people would have definitely heard it.

"Leave her alone! They haven't screwed yet." Tatum speaks up finally; although not to as much of your benefit as you would've appreciated. She puts the car in park and you jump at the opportunity to get out before you strangle Stu for his teasing. You scowl at the 6'4 child next to you and he, as usual, ignores your silent protest. 

"Don't worry, Stu has to be on your side because I'm on your side. That means no Billy tomorrow night, right babe?" She looks up at him to confirm, but you can tell she's shooting daggers at him; compelling him to provide the answer she was looking at again. 

"What's going on tomorrow night?" You ask. Hopefully it was nothing involving as much alcohol as the last time you spent time with them. 

"Movie night, Randy insists there's a movie we need to watch that can't wait until the weekend. Billy will not be there." Tatum's chin turns up and she smacks Stu's chest. He feigns discomfort but she quickly provides him with a swift kiss.

"No Billy," you repeat. Relief washes over you. The unavoidable confrontation with him that had been plaguing you could be put off for one more day. The three of you split up to go to your respective classes, and you can only hope that Stu makes good on his word and keeps Billy as far away from you as possible.

——— 

Stu, surprisingly, keeps his promise. In fact, Billy was nowhere to be seen all day at school yesterday. Today he'd passed by you in the hallway, but he was too invested in whatever conversation he was having to notice you, or he chose to ignore you. Either way, you were content. Stu welcomes you inside, clearly prepared to drink the night away in his signature red 'party robe.' You didn't plan on drinking copiously; after all, it was still a weekday. However, the memories of the last time you were in Stu's living room began creeping up on you as soon as you walked inside.

Nobody brought up last Friday, which you were grateful for. But if you were going to relax enough to enjoy your night, at least one drink was necessary. To avoid falling into the cycle of running through beers all night, you instead asked Stu for a shot of tequila from his parents' liquor cabinet. It was hot and stung your throat as you forced it down, but the warmth that filled your chest afterwards was well worth it. That, and the soda you'd downed immediately after, helped with the foul taste. Everyone else indulged in a shot of well, most of them chasing it with their first beer of the night.

You were comfortable in the same place you were the first time you'd come to Stu's house. It seemed like so long ago. The season had already changed to summer since you'd made small talk about wine with the boy, who would soon become something close to your only adversary. Tatum and Stu were already settled in their places while Randy fiddled with the VHS player, a sight you'd become used to.

The tape's sleeve tossed haphazardly on the small table read Hellraiser IV: Bloodline, and you kept your complaints to yourself. You didn't plan on spoiling Randy's enthusiasm for the remainder of your time in town. You just really did not like horror movies, good or bad. Randy performs his regular pre-movie sermon, this time complete with a full run-down of how the original director had bowed out due to "artistic differences" and that a lot of the characters' fates had been rewritten. You couldn't help but inaudibly laugh at the irony. Oh, how you wish for your fate to be rewritten. 

You actually try to focus on the movie, despite the faint buzz you can feel between your ears from the tequila. A group of guards are attempting to break down the door in order to take Dr. Paul Merchant when loud knocks at the front door scare all of you. 

"Jesus, fuck!" Stu yells and groans loudly, hopping up over the back of the couch. Your attention briefly wanders to the entrance, but the front door is out of sight from where you're sitting. You don't hear much and assume Stu is coming back any second. 

A few minutes go by without Stu's return, but Randy and Tatum are too captivated by the movie to notice. You get up quietly to avoid any other unexpected scares, going through the open archway until you can see the front door. Stu's towering height is hiding whatever he was looking at. 

"You can't be serious, Stu," you hear a voice whisper. Whoever he was looking at. Stu senses you behind him and quickly turns to look over his shoulder, revealing none other than Billy fucking Loomis. Of course, he would be here right now. 

Upon seeing you, Billy attempts to step inside through the small gap. "Just - there you are. Arizona, can I please talk to you?" 

Stu puts his leg out to block his path, his hands clasped together, while his eyes flash between the two of you. It would be a lie to say Stu wasn't finding this a thousand times more entertaining than the movie. 

"What could you possibly have to say to me that I would care about?" You respond boldly, crossing your arms and tilting your head at him, like you were suggesting a challenge. You should drink tequila more often. Billy's lips stay pressed together, and you can tell by the slight twitch of the corner that your reply was both unexpected and unappreciated.

Stu knows his friend far too well and quickly interjects. "How about you guys go talk in my room?" He suggests it, more-so an attempt to beg Billy not to make a scene. Stu is smiling, but it’s strained. Billy was not used to hearing any form of 'no,' and the last thing Stu needed was Tatum yelling at him for Billy showing up unannounced. You glance over at the living room, both of them completely unaware of what was happening in the foyer. 

“I’d rather rot than listen to anything that comes out of your mouth.”

With that, you turn on your heels and walk straight back to the kitchen. Luckily, your arms were crossed to hide your shaking hands from his view. They are just still enough to pour yourself another shot of tequila, and you drink it without a chaser this time. You shake your head first, then your shoulders, and end with your arms in an attempt to get your body to relax. You desperately need to calm down and carry on with the rest of the evening as you intended—Billy free.

You return to your spot just as Stu reenters the living room, and trailing not too far behind him is Billy. So much for him not being here tonight. Tatum finally looks over when Stu sits down next to her, and her jaw drops while she follows Billy with her eyes.

“Really?! I told you not to invite him!” She whispers harshly, making no effort to keep it a secret that he wasn’t exactly wanted. Billy doesn’t bat an eye; he just sits on the floor furthest away from you, right by the arm of the sofa Tatum and Stu were occupying.

“He just showed up. What was I supposed to do?” Stu whispers back, throwing his hands up defensively. “Just watch the movie; who cares?” He mutters, avoiding looking in your direction. You and Tatum both roll your eyes, settling more into your respective places as you attempt to focus on the movie again.

It’s not much longer before Duc de L’Isle is summoning the demon princess, Angelique, into a woman’s body. Even with the movie accelerating, you’re processing none of it. The small television doesn’t give off enough light for you to see everyone, but it does cast the perfect amount of illumination on Billy. The movie progresses without your attention, and even with Randy’s animated reactions, Tatum’s commentary, and Stu’s childish (and inappropriate) jokes, you have no reaction. You feel as though you’re watching yourself from the other side of the room, desperately trying to look uninterested enough to avoid any attention coming your way.

You and Billy are playing the same game. From his spot on his floor, you are just in his peripheral vision. He can make out that you're sitting with your knees to your chest, but he can't see your face clearly without making it obvious he was looking. He is actively fighting every urge to steal a quick glance at you, truly hoping to find you looking right back. Every so often, he adjusts, the hard floor starting to be a literal pain in his ass. Each time, he manages to look at you for what feels like half a second. 

Thirty minutes later, your couple of shots of tequila are starting to wear off, making you painfully paranoid about a certain someone. Just as you'd done before, you get up quietly and pad over to the kitchen. The tequila bottle is sitting in the same place you'd left it, your empty shot glass by its side. You sigh softly, taking the top off and pouring another to the brim this time. You quickly scan the counter for something to chase it with, but all the sodas are empty. You take a few steps to the fridge and pull it open, bending over to look for something. You spot a lone can of root beer in the back and grab it. 

When you turn back around, another lanky figure is waiting for you. You gasp instantly, and the root beer falls from your hand. Nobody in the living room stirs at the disruption; the movie is too loud.

"Jesus fucking Christ," you begin, your mouth immediately snapping shut as your brain catches up to your body. 

"No, just me." Billy gives you a placid smile. You don't say anything in response, stepping around him. You make it a point to hit his shoulder. 

"Fair, I deserve that." He nods in understanding, hands clasped behind his back. You deserve a hell of a lot more than a shoulder-check, you think to yourself. 

The can opening fills the space Billy expects you to take up with a response. He watches you intently, chin turned down, while you chuck back the shot and follow it up with root beer. You do your best not to show it on your face. 

"Arizona, I'm just trying to apologize," he begins, taking a step towards you. Immediately, you fall back and hold your hand up between the two of you. 

"Like last time? I'm not interested in hearing it." You snip back at him. "Why can't you get the hint that I don't want to listen to your fake sympathy? And I sure as hell don't need to be reprimanded by someone like you." You keep your voice low enough to keep this conversation as private as possible. The last thing you want is another confrontation like last time.

He stays silent and stares at you, his face falling just enough for you to notice. It's clear he fully expected his ambush to work, but there was no way you would go through this again. Not if you could help it. His nostrils flare so fast you almost miss it, but what you do miss is how fast his hand is wrapped around your elbow. You begin to protest and try to yank it out of his grasp, but Billy is intent on getting you upstairs. You both struggle up the stairs, and you are nudged into a bedroom with gaudy blue and red plaid sheets. The door is almost slammed behind you as Billy stands in front of it. 

"What the hell is your problem?!" He demands an answer, and you laugh incredulously. 

"Are you serious? What part of I don't want to talk to you do you not understand?" You attempt to leave the room, but he intervenes by stepping over to the left. You huff and try the other side, but he mimics you. 

“I rarely apologize, you should feel grateful. Are you that goddamn stubborn?" His height is an advantage in this situation, and he uses it to make you step backwards towards the bed. 

"Do I need to remind you that this entire thing is your fault?You are always so out of line; you just can't help yourself, can you?" Days of pent-up anger at the boy in front of you bubbled up to the surface. Your fists are clenched by your side, something Billy finds quite endearing. You were right; he couldn't help himself. It was too easy to get you this way: defensive, riled up, with a spunk nobody else in the group had seen except for him. He knew it was in there somewhere; he just didn't expect to find your buttons so quickly. 

"What did you say earlier?" He cocks his head to the side, and his forehead creases. A beat passes, and he snaps his fingers. "That's right, you'd rather rot than talk to me. Rot, Arizona. Bit harsh, isn't it?" He speaks evenly, his words laced with condescension. 

"I meant it, and I still mean it," you confirm. "You had no right to do what you did." 

"Oh, I know that. For the record, I am very sorry about how it all happened," he says, rocking back on his heels a couple times. You allow his words to go in one ear and out of the other.

"But if I hadn't, you wouldn't have told them. You and Tatum seem like two peas in a pod again, so was it that horrible?" His hands are held out, palms facing up as if to say, see? It all worked out. 

It takes a moment for you to decide if you want to even entertain this. 

"That's... Billy, that's not the point. It turned out okay, but it's the principle of the situation." You are too exhausted by the subject to continue holding your ground.

"Girls and their principles," he chuckles. You raise your eyebrows and shake your head once, about to really force your way out, but Billy tries to dial it back.

"It's a joke, Arizona. Relax. I really am sorry. I was a dick that night, and I would probably be one again. But everything is fine now." This boy needs an extensive course on the art of a meaningful apology.

You sigh, almost in defeat. Billy was so caught up in the specific situation that he was neglecting everything that occurred before it. You'd opened up to him; you'd trusted him with your feelings. You told him something you hadn't even told your best friend, and he used it against you. 

"That night in my room?" You start, jogging his memory for him since he had clearly forgotten. "I thought you were actually hearing me. I thought I was gaining another friend before I left, and you didn't care. You embarrassed me in front of everyone, yeah. But you also just..." You trail off, and this is why you didn't drink tequila. You can feel your eyes heating up, and you have to catch your lip between your teeth to keep it from trembling. 

"I what?" He asks. He's speaking softly now, inching closer to you.

You don't want to say it. You'd come to terms with the fact that Billy was not your friend, but it was unusual how simply unkind he could be. You had only been crying because of hurting Tatum, but you hadn't fully processed your feelings about what Billy had done. You were so intent on soaking up more good with your best friends that you ignored the other side of the coin. Now it was just the two of you a third time, and even after your bold display downstairs, you are still scared to tell him how you feel. 

"You really hurt me, Billy." You finally breathe, and Billy is right in front of you. As quickly as the air comes in, it leaves again. You blink profusely, trying your best to keep any rebellious tears at bay. For the first time, Billy feels. a pang of guilt. He wasn't the most emotionally intelligent guy on the planet, but he thought he had enough awareness to remember that this was a layered betrayal for you. 

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." It's the first offering of regret that you believe, albeit not completely. Each shot of tequila has relaxed you up to this point, but you feel that familiar air coming around you again, of your defenses being broken down with hardly any effort. You don't respond, and Billy takes it as an opportunity to move closer. Now you are almost nose to nose, Billy shrinking down to meet your height.

His eyes have that same look that you'd seen the night in your bedroom. His hair is falling in the exact same place. Deja-vu strikes you in the gut when you realize that once again, you haven't moved an inch. Billy's hand comes up to cup your cheek, head tilted slightly so he can get a good look at you. 

"You are so confusing," you confess, mustering up enough nerve to make eye contact. The corner of his lip comes up in a half-smile; he knows he's confusing. It's not an accident. 

"I know; it's what makes me interesting." He remarks, and your head shakes in disagreement. His hand is cupping your chin now. You're talking in order to keep yourself from passing out from the overwhelming heat beginning to build in the pit of your stomach.

"You don't have to be an asshole to be interesting, Billy." Your head is spinning from the proximity of your bodies. You begin to think back to your first encounter in Stu's garage—how charming he appeared to be and how easily his compliments rolled off his tongue. Even in your bedroom, he seemed endearing before it went downhill. In a different circumstance, you actually might've liked him. 

"Then what else should I be, hm? Any suggestions?" Before you can answer, his thumb swipes languidly over your bottom lip. It seems to draw a deep breath out of you, much to Billy's satisfaction. He has you exactly where he wants you, where he's so easily been able to get you.

"You could try being decent for once," you retort, your voice barely above a whisper. But even as you stay firm in your conviction, his touch is getting more distracting as the seconds pass.

Billy's smile widens. "Decent, huh? I can be decent," he replies as his thumb continues its slow descent along your jawline. You almost laugh. He can be decent despite proving otherwise at every turn. 

"Everything is okay with your friends. And we're finally alone. Do you want to keep talking about that, or do you want to talk about us?" He challenges. You want to push him away to reclaim some control over the situation. But there's a part of you that's satisfied the longer you stay this close to him. After all, he was right; everything was better now. He was the only loose end that hadn't been tied up. Tatum's advice is echoing in your head; it couldn't possibly be that bad. Could it? 

"I don't want to talk." Your voice is low but no longer hesitant. Your eyes trail from his lips up to his eyes, and without needing to say a single word, Billy understands.

His other hand cups just under your ear, and he pulls you the few centimeters of space to close the gap between you, pressing his lips to yours gently. The first thing you notice about his lips is the lingering taste of alcohol. You wonder for only a second if he did the same as you, downing a few shots in preparation for some kind of confrontation. Billy takes his time, his grip on you loose enough that you could pull away at any moment if you wanted to. After weeks of dancing around each other and playing tug of war, every logical part of you wanted to stop this. But the other part of you that never gave in to anything but always wanted to try—that part was much stronger right now. 

Your hands come up to wrap around Billy's wrists, and slowly but surely you stop fighting all of your urges to stay away from him. Billy takes this as a signal that you want this just as much as he did, likely for very different reasons. You feel his hands trail down to your lower back, resting right on the dip before the top of your jeans. Your hands find their way to his shoulders instead, and Billy begins stepping back towards the bed.

You follow his every move, completely enthralled by the warmth pooling between your legs to take notice, or really to even care. Billy's tongue swipes along your lower lip just as he sits on the edge of the bed, using his hands to guide you onto his lap. You welcome his tongue into your mouth and greet it with your own, your fingers moving to clasp around the back of his neck.

The excitement was starting to kick in, and kissing Billy turned out to be the most incredible thing you'd done in a while. Your best friend's words come back again, and this time you have every intention of listening to them. 

Your lips are still moving with his near-perfectly. It is a shock after telling yourself how incompatible you were and putting so much of your energy into making sure he knew just how much you couldn't stand him. A wave of urgency passes over you, and you're pressing yourself against him without a second thought. Billy groans when you brush against the steadily growing bulge in his pants, so you do it again. 

Billy pulls away just enough so he can speak, his lips even pinker than usual. "Slow down, Arizona. We have plenty of time," he teases you, and this time you don't take it personally. Your heart is racing, and you don't know what's making you feel more drunk: Billy or the tequila. 

"Sorry, sorry." You shake your head, attempting to get yourself to think clearly. Billy's hands are comfortable on your hips, his fingers dipping just below your waistband to rub small circles. 

"It's okay. Just come here," he says softly, easing you forward, his lips touching your throat instead this time. He places a few kisses, and a shiver runs down your spine that makes your back arch. He catches your lips again, but it's even slower this time. He's torturing you. You whine, beginning to get a little greedy when you hear someone who is definitely not Billy. 

"Well, well, well," Stu leans against the doorframe, shaking his head in amusement. You've never moved so fast before in your life, hopping off of Billy's lap and scrambling to try and look like you weren't just devouring him. 

"I fucking knew it; I told you!" He pumps both fists into the air triumphantly. Tatum and Randy soon pop up right behind him, and you begin to swear under your breath, hiding your face in your hands. Billy is sitting next to you, leaning back on his hands as if nothing was happening.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Randy is beside himself, pointing between you two with a look of horror. Stu nearly collapses in a fit of laughter, and Tatum stands with her arms crossed, trying to hide her smile. 

"Movie's over, freaks. Let's go home." She cocks her head to the side, signaling for you to get up so you can catch your ride back. Thank god for Tatum, whether it’s intentional or not she is helping you avoid further humiliation.

Billy remains quiet, and you almost look to him for some kind of help. What were either of you supposed to say? 

You clear your throat and adjust your shirt, avoiding giving him a second glance, and do the short walk of shame out of the bedroom. Randy is speaking nonsensically—a string of questions and words that don't make any sense. What you don't see is Billy hiding a smile of his own, even coughing to try and remain as stoic as possible. You hustle down the stairs, flushed with embarrassment, and follow Tatum outside to her car. 

Your seatbelts are on, and the radio is off. Now that you're out of that room, the reality of what just happened settles on you. Tatum is looking at you from the corner of her eye, trying to gauge if she should say anything or wait until tomorrow. You look at her, and a few more seconds of silence pass between both of you, and you burst into laughter. 

The third time was most definitely a charm. 

[aboutescapism]

enjoy the silence II | ao’nung.

ao’nung x fem!sully!reader

previous part | part two | next part

synopsis: Ao’nung’s words had hurt you, but his contradictory actions hurt you more. You realize your mistake in your idea that you’d be a good match, but it may have already cost you your life.

genre: angst.

contains: more pining from reader, mixed signals, ilu riding. mentions of near death experience, suffocation, overwhelming feelings. ao’nung literally being so confusing. requited love after all?

a/n: welcome to the second installment of enjoy the silence! the first part ended up being posted two days earlier than expected (the last time i ever schedule a post) and still needed scenes added but, i’m so happy you all loved it so much anyway! i tagged everyone who asked to be tagged. thank you guys so much for the support!

The morning after Ao’nung had said those things to you by the shore came quickly. After he had stalked off, you went back to your mauri, purposely taking the long way home to be with your thoughts for a while. Did you read his signs wrong? Was he even giving any signs to begin with? Or had you been clouded with the illusion of being a perfect pair that you hadn’t even considered how Ao’nung felt?

Your siblings could feel your slight sadness when you arrived back, but no one had questioned it much, save for a few, “Feelin’ alright?”s from your father. Moving to Awa’atlu had affected everyone, they had felt the overwhelming ache of homesickness every once in a while, they understood you were feeling down. If only they knew, your once source of happiness was now your source of distress.

Despite that, you weren’t angry with Ao’nung. Not at all. You understood where he was coming from completely. As the future Olo’eyktan, he needs to protect his people. That means protecting them from humans, and your family had brought that threat. If anything, it’s natural for him to be hostile towards you. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. But you were resilient.

You just had to prove to him you were more than what was running in your veins. 

Today, like the past few days, was filled with training. Ao’nung was paired up with you, again. You felt uneasy at first, not wanting to make him more uncomfortable with you. He gave Tsireya a look, almost begging to switch partners. She only rolled her eyes and smiled when you reached them.

He must’ve told her how he felt about you, or maybe she had heard his harsh words to you last night. Either way, you’re sure she smacked him upside the head for upsetting you. Tsireya took a genuine liking to you, and she may or may not have been doubling her efforts in winning over the Sully family due to her liking of Lo'ak. 

Once all together in the shallow water, Ao’nung began to call to the Ilu. Almost immediately, they swam up and circled him. It was mesmerizing, watching him call them so effortlessly, how they swam up to him so fondly. 

“These are Ilu. If you want to live here, you have to ride,” he explained. You were excited, you had little trouble claiming your Ikran, surely this is no different.

Ao’nung faced you, pointing, “the demon girl will go first.” Your eyes widened, suddenly intimidated. But, you had to show him you weren’t just some forest girl with five fingers.  

You swam up to an Ilu, petting it. It clicked at you, nudging you affectionately. This creature was so gentle, so sweet to you. Your Ikran was nothing but the opposite when you claimed it; squawking loudly, attempting to throw you over the edge of the cliff. You gained some confidence from its gentle demeanor, and climbed on top. Tsireya and Ao’nung swam up beside to keep the Ilu still and allow you to make a bond. 

“Make the bond, and hold here,” Tsireya gestured to the handle. You pulled your queue from behind you, bare, pink nerves ready to make a connection. You took a deep breath and made the bond with your Ilu. Suddenly, you felt its being as whole, as a part of you. You felt its breath, its fins, how strong it is, how eager it was to swim with a new driver. 

“Breathe from here, remember. Hold your breath when you dive, the Ilu is fast. But it will know when to go back up for air. It feels you, you feel it,” Ao’nung placed his hand on your upper stomach like he had done when training your breathing. You gasped quietly, not expecting such a gentle, forward gesture from him. Especially not after last night’s exchange.

Your golden eyes made contact with his, your brows furrowed in confusion. Hadn’t he just reprimanded you for just merely existing? Now he was touching you so delicately, like you’d break from too much pressure. Had last night really just been a bit? Just a teasing joke? Maybe he didn’t hate you after all? 

His mixed signals made you feel fuzzy, your brain suddenly so confused. The Ilu felt it, too, and began to thrash around from the uncertainty you felt at Ao’nung’s touch. He removed his hand from you, much to your disappointment, to calm the Ilu back down to stillness. 

You shook the thoughts about him out of your head, you had to focus. “I’m ready, I can do this.”

“Start slow, don’t hurt yourself,” Ao’nung’s tone was firm, but worried. Perhaps he did care for you.

You took another deep breath, and went off into the water. 

You started slow, like Ao’nung instructed, getting comfortable with being pulled through the water by the Ilu. Gradually you sped up, gliding through the reef with ease.

The rush of adrenaline that flowed through you only made you more and more confident. The beautiful reef had you hypnotized, you felt so much while being wished around the glowy underwater plants and animals. The swirl of colors dizzied you in only the best way, leaving you in awe.

You reached a hand out to brush against the foliage as you flew past it. It was so soft to the touch. It only reminded you of Ao'nung's.

What he said greatly hurt you, joke or not. The contrast of his words then and now was so confounding to you. And with the thought of him back in your mind, you became tense, now losing your focus. You lost your balance on the Ilu along with your secure grip.

This thrashed you around some, but you could regain your composure. Unfortunately, it was proving difficult.

You underestimated the force of the water. Your grip on the Ilu faltered more with the ever growing speed. You couldn’t keep up, the pressure was too much. The rush of the water was now pulling you back, straining your limbs. Dreadful fear filled you when you realized, inevitably you’d be knocked off and sent into waters you weren’t familiar with at all, with animals and creatures you’d never interacted with. 

You had underestimated the difficulty of riding an Ilu, just as you had underestimated Ao’nung’s impact on you. It was all too similar.

At first, you’d been confident and blinded by excitement. Excitement of meeting your seemingly perfect match. Excitement of trying something new. You weren’t careful, not assessing the situation completely before you dived in headfirst.

You didn’t take Ao’nung himself into account, how powerful his actions, his feelings are just as the water’s force is on your body now. Oh, how your impulsivity ricocheted back to you, but ten times stronger. Whiplash from Ao’nung’s mixed signals and the rush of the current you’re trying to push through. 

You had to let go, you realized. 

You had to let go of the Ilu before you hurt yourself. You had to let go of your delusional idea of yours and Ao’nung’s relationship before it drastically hurts you. Or him. You couldn't bear the thought of hurting him, in any way.

He didn’t feel the same, he never would. Spiraling down this idea would only complicate things more. You needed to let go.

With that, you took your grip off the Ilu, ripped from the back of the creature and sent off into the water. 

Your breath had begun to ran out and you were so far down, clouded with thoughts of needing air and needing Ao'nung. Neither would come to you soon enough.

Unbeknownst to you, a pair of azure eyes caught sight of your descending figure before it was too late. He couldn't bear the thought of you being hurt. The thought alone was what was driving him to swim to you faster.

Ao'nung needed you, too.

taglist! @maxiel4life @aonungmyaddiction @awkward-halfhug @bratsukisworld @bigdikzaddy @iheartamajiki @adaiasafira @holysaladapricothero

[sweetprfct]

Permanent December

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Sara have been best friends for a while now and when Sara had started dating Wes, you realized he also had a best friend. Joe. But somehow, you and Joe tend not to get along all the time.

Author's Note: I never realized how long these chapters were. I can't believe I wrote this much. LMAO. Anyway, here's part 2 and I apologize for the loonnggg chapter. I hope ya'll enjoy anyway!

Wordcount: 6K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six - part seven - part eight - part nine - part ten

Time flies when you are busy. Time flies when you have occupied your mind all year about the December trip that was coming up. You had to remind yourself that you weren’t going to Germany this year. Instead, you would be flying to London. It felt like it was just yesterday when you were walking around the Christmas market in the freezing cold winter air, and Joe had just insulted you again. Calling you old and raggedy like the doll you were holding. He had apologized to you twice that night, but you didn’t even bother listening to it because you knew it wasn’t genuine. It bothered you all year long that those words had repeated inside your mind over and over. You didn’t even know if you were just being dumb or sensitive, but it just bothered you so much. 

“So, Joe offered that we could stay at his place when we arrive in London.” Sara said through the speaker phone. 

You were standing on your tiptoes in the middle of your closet, trying to reach for your suitcase hidden on the top shelf. You had a few days to finish packing for your London trip, and you were just glad that your boss let you go for a month. It wasn’t like he had a choice. You have been working your ass off all year long just to collect enough PTO for this trip. 

“Oh, no, thanks.” You grunted as you finally reached your suitcase and set it down on the floor. “I could just pay for a hotel.” 

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. You staying at Joe’s house? Seeing his face every morning for the whole month of December was the last thing you wanted to do. Plus, you get to have your own privacy if you stay in a hotel. 

“Are you sure? We don’t have to pay.” Sara tried to convince you.

“Yeah, I’m okay with the hotel. You could stay there though or with Wes. I don’t mind.” 

You started throwing random clothes on your suitcase. Just thinking about the thought of seeing Joe for a whole month was making you feel frustrated.

“Okay, I’ll stay with you in the same hotel.” You could hear Sara chuckle through the phone, and you swore you could imagine her shaking her head on the other side of it. 

You still haven’t told Sara how you really felt about Joe and how much you just wanted to punch him on the face. You would ask Sara questions about him sometimes just to see if he really acted like that towards other people, but it seemed like he only acted like an ass towards you. 

You sent the details of your hotel to Sara that night after you finished packing. Besides the thought of Joe, you were actually pretty excited to see London. You haven’t visited there yet, and Sara had talked about how beautiful the city was, so you let your thoughts stay there. You let the positive thoughts occupy your mind and focus on the good instead. 

Your flight arrived at the same time as Sara’s in London and of course, you two had planned it out like this. As you waited for your luggage at the baggage claim, you were greeted by Sara’s cheerful voice from a distance. You turned to see where her voice came from and saw that she already had her suitcase and the two men tagging along behind her. 

Oh, great. He came. 

She was all bundled up in her heavy winter coat and scarf, and it made her look so tiny next to Wes and Joe. 

“It’s so cold, but I’m glad we’re here.” Sara hugged you tightly. 

“Welcome to London!” Wes had pulled you into a hug also.

“Thank you. The city looked beautiful through the plane’s window.” You smiled, your eyes shifting towards Joe behind them.

You weren’t surprised when you saw that he was busy on his phone. He didn’t even gazed up once towards you. Did Wes just dragged his ass to the airport, and he didn’t have a choice but to come? 

“Well, you’re going to love it.” Sara added. “We’ll take you around to see the best places and eat the best food.”

“That sounds heavenly.” You laughed softly before grabbing your suitcase from the baggage carousel. 

“Hey, mate. I have to go.” Joe chimed in, patting a hand on Wes’ shoulder. 

You and Sara exchanged looks as Joe whispered something in Wes’ ear and immediately, Wes’ expression turned into some kind of understanding between them two before Joe turned to you and Sara and gave both of you a tight lipped smile.

“Welcome.” He muttered before walking away.

“Just don’t forget tonight, mate!” Wes called out to Joe who looked back over his shoulder and nodded his head before directly heading out towards the two sliding doors.

You guessed it right. Wes had dragged his ass to the airport because they were two peas in a pod but since he had greeted both of you—not even a warm welcome— he had done his job and decided to go home. 

“What’s tonight?” You asked Wes.

“Oh, Wes is throwing a little welcome party for us. Just a few friends.” Sara explained as the three of you walked out of the double doors.

The winter air immediately greeted you as you pulled your winter coat closer to your chest. The hotel wasn’t too far from the airport and popular places to go to. You figured it would have been easier to walk to places when you booked it, and you were right. It was smacked down right in the middle of the city. 

Luckily for the both of you, Sara’s room was just next to yours. You settled into your room and sliding the curtains open, you were welcomed by a beautiful view of the city.

It was unreal. 

It was like how you saw in the movies. The sunset was just setting above the horizon, and you admired every building that was in front of you. Each had a different style of architecture, and you knew some of them were very old. Older than you probably. You knew some things about the city since you spent some time reading about it before the trip. You even tried learning some British slang that totally failed on you. 

You were so deep into the British slang hole that you started texting Sara some, and she couldn’t take you seriously at all, especially whenever the both of you would talk on the phone. She would just keep laughing, and you couldn’t help but laugh with her as well. You sounded like an idiot. 

“Stop it!” Sara would say, giggling so hard. “It’s like you are a whole other person.” 

“I’m just preparing for this trip.” You would give her an excuse and then you would start using it just to annoy her sometimes, and it would just make you laugh when she got all cringey over it. 

You weren’t going to lie though. You were starting to actually enjoy it. 

“We’ll take the tube to go to my flat.” Wes had said later that night. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle and nudged Sara, making her roll her eyes. She knew exactly why you were teasing her because you definitely had used those words to her before. 

The tube was crowded that night and so the three of you had found yourselves getting squeezed by each passenger left to right all the way to where your stop was. Walking out of the station, you tried your best to memorize where you were and the name of the streets because that was just how you were. You wanted to know where you were and how you were able to reach a certain destination, so you could never get lost. 

You saw colorful Christmas string lights covering the exteriors of the buildings as the three of you walked down the pavement and towards Wes’ building. Wreaths or garlands hung on the front doors. It was all cozy and beautiful.

You had seen a bit of Wes’ apartment before whenever Sara would facetime you when she was in London. Once the three of you entered his flat, your eyes studied the place and couldn't help but think how it was exactly how you imagined. 

You saw there were several people in his apartment already. 

Jesus, how many friends did they have?

One stuck out of the crowd, and it was Joe sitting on the sofa, talking with two men and all of them holding a bottle of beer in their hands. Wes and Sara had pulled you around the room and introduced you to their friends, and they were all really nice and welcoming with you. 

“Here. To get your mind off of you know who.” Sara whispered, nudging your arm with hers.

Ah, that you know who. 

That stupid jerk you dated for the last two months, thinking he was nice and ended up to be a narcissist asshole. Sara knew about it because on the day you decided to ghost the guy, you were on the phone with her ranting about how much of a narcissist he was and while you were talking to her, he was trying to contact you. You shook your head at Sara, chuckling softly and took the bottle of beer from her. You didn’t even like the guy that much anyway but still, he was a jerk. 

“Please. He’s out of my mind already.” You rolled your eyes and clinked the beer bottle with hers and both of you took a big gulp from it. 

You watched as Wes grabbed Sara away from you and turned up the volume of the speaker and danced with her, making you laugh as you watched them together. 

You never really told Sara, but you were really happy for her. You were so happy that it was Wes that she had found, and you hoped that they were the ones for each other in the end. Wes was such a nice guy, and you could see how much he loved her. You knew he’d do anything for Sara. That was why you never understood how he was friends with someone like Joe. Sure, they have known each other since primary school but really? Joe was such an ass. 

Speaking of him, your attention was caught later that night when you were standing in the corner of the room and heard all of their friends laugh at some joke Joe just told. You were on your fifth bottle of beer, and you weren’t going to lie, you were a bit drunk already, and you have been staring at Joe for a while now. You haven’t even noticed until now that your eyes were planted at him all night. You saw how he would mingle with everyone, talk to everyone, and make jokes with everyone. Not once had he laid an eye on you, and you stood there, seeing the exact person that Sara had described many times to you. It was almost like he was a totally different person in front of them.

“Honestly, I think he just hates me.” You had told Sara one night through the phone. “He never talks to me and when he does, he makes some stupid jokes.”

Sara would laugh through the phone and said, “He doesn’t hate you. He’s just reserved but once he gets more comfortable around you, he opens up.”

“Yeah, well… I’m sticking to my theory that he hates me.” You argued. 

And you were right. That theory has stuck for four years now. It was a shame. You thought as your eyes trailed down to his shiny black chelsea boots then up to his fancy trousers and brown corduroy button up shirt where the top two buttons were opened. Your eyes then trailed to the two chain necklaces that were around his neck.

He was cute and handsome but what an ass. 

Maybe you were really that drunk that you were having these thoughts all of a sudden. Your eyes then traveled to his bum and you pursed your lips softly. 

Yeah, what an ass.

You finished the rest of your beer and ran your fingers through your hair, feeling hot all of a sudden. You were getting drunk, and the room was starting to spin a little bit through your vision. You grabbed a hold of the edge of the table that was next to you for a moment before you let your feet walk you towards the balcony to give yourself some fresh air. 

It was freezing, but the cold air was helping you sober up a little bit and your rosy cheeks were thanking you so much for the small breeze that was hitting your skin at the moment. You closed your eyes and smiled, feeling the breeze and enjoyed it for a minute before you were interrupted by the sliding door opened behind you.

You fluttered your eyes open and looked over your shoulder to see Joe standing by the doorway, a cigarette tucked between his lips and a lighter on his hand. 

“Um… I’ll come back later.” He said, ready to slide the door closed.

You rolled your eyes and sighed. “It’s fine. You can come out.”

Joe stared at you for a moment and you could see the hesitation in his eyes. What? Was he scared of you? Did he really hate you so much that he wanted to wait until you leave to have a smoke break? 

Eventually, he stepped out and closed the door behind him. You stepped aside to give him some room since the balcony wasn’t that big either. Joe lit up his cigarette and blew a puff of smoke into the air. You pulled your coat closer and folded your arms in front of your chest when a strong cold breeze hit both of you. There was that awkward silence between you two again and you could feel the tension in the air. It was thick.

“How was your flight?” Joe asked, breaking the silence.

God, you were going to do small talk now? Your head was already spinning from all the alcohol. 

“Fine.” You shrugged. 

Another silence took over, and you tilted your head back to gaze up to the sky just to distract yourself from whatever awkwardness that was going on between you two. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea for you to agree for him to join you out here. You pushed those thoughts elsewhere as you focused your attention to the stars, but you were so caught up and dizzy that you leaned back, lost your balance and almost stumbled towards the chair that was right behind you. Joe was quick to drop his cigarette and reached his arms behind you, ready to catch you. But you were able to hold on to the steel railing, stopping yourself from completely falling backwards.

Your eyes widened, and you froze for a moment, feeling the blood rushed to your cheeks from embarrassment.

“I’m fine.” You cleared your throat and stood up straight, showing Joe that you didn’t need him to help you out. 

Shoulders back, chin up. 

Your hands, however, held onto the railing tightly, making sure that you were able to balance yourself. Suddenly, you heard a small laugh coming from Joe, and you glanced towards his direction.

“What’s so funny?” You asked, voice ice cold and obviously offended that he was laughing at you. 

“You know, if you can't hold your alcohol too well, you shouldn’t be drinking this much.” He smirked as you gave him a cold glare again.

Good god. Can he just shut up for once? 

You bit your lower lip, stopping yourself from saying something that you would regret later on when you were sober. Of all the people in this apartment, he picked you out of the crowd to pissed you off, didn't he? Same old Joe, just different country. You just never understood how Sara and Wes liked him so much, especially when they always said that he was kind and nice because obviously, he wasn’t. 

“You know, Joe. You don’t need to lecture me on what I can and cannot do because obviously, you don’t genuinely care anyway. You just like to piss me off.” You blurted the words out, a hint of frustration and anger seeping through your voice. “For fuck’s sake, waste your time on someone else.” 

You shook your head and walked around him, making your way back inside. Joe had kept his distance from you for the rest of the night, and you were sort of glad because you just needed some peace tonight. First night in London, and he already had pissed you off. 

Later on that night, you found yourself looking for Sara, but she was busy in the kitchen with Wes, eating different snacks that he had brought out from the fridge. You could see that she was a bit drunk too but not drunk enough that she didn’t know what she was doing.

“Hey.” You went up to them. “It’s getting late. I think I’m going to head out.”

Sara was sitting on the kitchen counter, munching on some piece of sourdough bread as she held up her index finger indicating for you to wait as she swallowed the bread that she was eating.

“Wait. I’ll come with you.” Sara jumped off the counter, gazing up to Wes. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“You don’t have to go with me. I think I can find my way back.” You suggested. 

You didn’t want to be a bother, especially if she still wanted to spend more time with Wes. You just wanted to go home because you were obviously tired and you literally had a long flight before this.

“No, don’t be silly. I’ll come.” Sara stood on her tiptoes and kissed Wes before saying goodbye to him.

“Thanks for tonight.” You smiled, giving Wes a hug before heading out of the kitchen to grab your coat. 

You heard Wes called out for Joe that you and Sara were leaving but all he did was nod and waved at Sara. You didn’t even bother expecting anything from him. You said your goodbyes to the rest of their friends and headed out to the door first, waiting for Sara to finish her goodbyes. As soon as Sara walked out the door, she immediately linked her arm with yours and both of you walked out of the building. 

“‘Twas fun, right?” Sara giggled.

Oh, she was definitely a bit drunk. 

“Yeah, it was. I didn’t realize how many friends Wes and Joe had.” You giggled as you both walked down the pavement. 

The alcohol in both of your systems was helping warm both of you up from the cold. It was a good thing both of you were linking arms together because you both could barely walk straight down the pavement as you two just giggled together. By the time you reached the corner, Sara had dragged you to the opposite side away from where the tube station was. 

“Wait, the tube is the other way.” You said, but Sara was quick to shush you. “Where are we going?”

“There’s this cute little pastry shop down the street that is open ‘till late.” 

“It’s 10pm?” 

Before you could even argue anymore, Sara had pulled you inside the shop. There was a couple inside eating pastries and one worker that was sitting behind the counter, looking bored from the magazine that he was reading. 

“Hmmm.” Sara slipped her arm off from yours and studied the variety of pastries in the glass case in front of her. 

It took about a few minutes for the both of you to decide and order. Soon after, you both had found yourselves sitting on one of the small tables, eating the delicious pastries you two had picked out. 

“It has been a while since we both hung out together alone.” Sara mentioned. 

Matter of fact, Sara was right. You have been so understanding with her relationship with Wes that you just now realized that it really had been a while. Wes or Joe had always been there, and it was not like you saw each other all the time. For the last few years, every time you visited Germany, Joe and Wes were there too. It didn’t bother you at all. You were fine with them being there because you knew it made Sara happy but thinking about it now, it did make you miss all those times when you two would hang out together and have a girls’ night at the Christmas market. 

“Well,” You laughed softly. “You have been pretty busy.”

“I’m sorry I have been so caught up with Wes.” Her lips had started pouting again.

“Oh, no! Don’t ever be sorry. I totally understand.” You gave her a reassuring smile, realizing that Sara was starting to get emotional.

It kind of made you laugh a little bit because she was always like this when she had a bit too much alcohol in her. She would get emotional and affectionate, and she would start spilling out some things that she had been keeping inside of her. You were always there for her to comfort her, listen to her or sometimes, just teased her that she was being emotional again.

“We should have at least one day just us girls from now on.” Sara stated. “Promise, we will start doing that!”

You couldn’t help but grin at her idea and agreed with her. It was a good compromise, and it was a good balance at least. When you both had finished your little snack, you headed towards the station to take the tube back to your hotel. It was already past midnight when you two had arrived back, and you immediately crashed on your bed. 

The first night in London wasn’t bad at all. You already had met some new people at Wes’ little house party, and you were able to actually see the things you had studied about London for the last however many months. The next morning, it was snowing a little bit in the city, and Wes had come to pick you and Sara up for some little sightseeing around the city. 

To your surprise, Joe wasn’t there. Did he actually reject Wes’ invite this time? Either way, your day became a bit more peaceful with just the three of you. Honestly, you didn’t mind Joe’s presence. Even though it looked like he minded your presence. That was why it bothered you so much. If he hadn’t been such an ass, making some stupid little comments or jokes, you thought maybe you two probably would have gotten along well. 

Even if he didn’t speak much to you, you didn’t mind him being there because you knew he was best friend’s with Wes. Sara had always brought you along and so, Wes bringing Joe along was completely normal. You tried your best to be understanding for the last few years but sometimes, Joe just knew how to push your buttons.

However, Joe wasn’t there with you today, was he? So, you focused your attention on the things that actually mattered. Wes and Sara had taken you to ride one of London's infamous big red buses that you always see in pictures and movies. The three of you sitting on the top deck, taking pictures together, and Wes would volunteer to take yours and Sara’s together. 

You were pretty surprised how much history you had learned from Wes that day. He and Sara had shown you around London and pretty much the whole tourist spots that they could think of, and you were nothing but thankful for the both of them because London was beautiful. It was gorgeous. You now understood when Sara had told you all about it. You understood why she was so excited to show you around. Then, the rest of the afternoon was spent at one of their favorite restaurants in SoHo.

“You know this is where Wes first took me on our first date here in London.” Sara smiled at her boyfriend that was sitting next to her.

“Well that means he knows you well because from the looks of it, the food they serve here are your favorite ones.” You grinned, looking up from the menu that was in front of you.

“Technically, it was Joe who suggested this restaurant. He loved this place, and he took me once here. Then, I decided to take Sara because I know she would love it.” Wes added.

For someone who was such an ass, you could give credit to Joe for having good taste in food at least. You weren’t sure if that was because he was just into some expensive fancy shit all the time, or he genuinely just knew how to pick a good restaurant. Night fell when the three of you had exited the restaurant and the neon signs around SoHo had lit up the streets. 

“Okay, who’s up for a little pub drinking?” Wes wiggled his brows excitedly to Sara.

“You know I’m always up for that.” Sara replied, a playful grin was tugging on her face.

“I could go for a drink.” You shrugged, looking at Sara as she linked her arm with yours, while Wes led you both down the block to the pub he had chosen. 

You stared at both of your friends with brows furrowed. That wasn’t the normal reaction you usually would get from them. They were both overly excited with the idea and before even questioning your friends, you had received your answer the moment you entered the pub. 

Joe. 

He was sitting by the bar with a pint of beer in his hand and another extra one that was sitting in front of him.

“Hey, mate!” Wes greeted him, squeezing his shoulder lightly. “Look who’s here.”

Wes turned to you and Sara with a big playful smile on his face, and you glanced at your best friend who was giggling. Something was going on, and you had a bad feeling in your stomach. You raised an eyebrow at Sara who just gave you a shrug, acting like she didn’t know what was going on. 

Oh, that was such bullshit. 

You knew Sara too well, and you knew when she was faking it. What were these two doing? You narrowed your eyes at her as she grabbed your hand and followed behind Wes where Joe was at the bar. 

“Thanks, mate. I owe you.” That was all you heard from Wes before turning to face you, that playful grin was still plastered on his face. 

“Come, sit.” Sara said, pulling the stool next to Joe and handing you the extra pint of beer that was in front of him.

“What?” Your eyes shifted back and forth at Sara and Wes, waiting for them to tell you what was happening.

“I have a little surprise for Sara and so, we are gonna go ahead, but Joe here…” Wes turned to his best friend, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “...could keep you company.”

Oh, absolutely not.

Your eyes widened at Sara. Did they really just set you up? Did Sara really just set you up? What was going on? 

“I’m okay. I could go back to the hotel.” You jumped off from the stool that you were sitting on and tried to pass your way between Sara and Wes.

“You don’t want to waste a good beer.” Joe’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

You froze for a moment and bit your lower lip. You knew Joe was only doing Wes a favor, and you knew that he actually didn’t want to be here if he had a choice. Well… fine. Joe was going to be an ass? You were going to be a pain in his ass tonight then. You put a small fake smile on your face and nodded your head at your friends.

“You’re right.” You said, sitting back on the chair. “I don’t want to waste a good beer.”

“Great!” Wes exclaimed. “You two have the best time, okay?” He pointed his index finger to the both of you and said, “Not too much though.”

You gave Wes and Sara a fake smile, taking the glass of beer and holding it up in the air before taking a big gulp from it. You remembered that promise you gave yourself last year back in Germany. You would torture Joe with your presence since he always wanted to make stupid jokes with you or make stupid little comments. You could already see how bored he was because he just stayed silent the whole time. After finishing your first pint, you had a little courage to finally break the tension between you two.

“So, are you going to pay for my drinks tonight or Wes is paying for this?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Joe just finished his glass also and shook his head. “I’m paying for it.”

“Great.” You smiled and turned to the bartender behind the counter. “Can I get four shots of tequila please?”

Joe watched you slug down those four shots right away and then ordered another round. He didn’t say one word. He never did anyway. So, you just kept going. He never said anything nor complained about it and throughout the night, it was starting to piss you off that he just never reacted in any way. 

Was he a fucking robot?

 He just sat there and watched you all night. You even tried to offer him a shot of tequila but he refused.

“No, that’s okay.” He had told you. “I’m good with my beer.” 

You hummed disapprovingly, shaking your head before taking the shot. It looked like the plan to piss him off wasn’t working at all. You paused for a moment as you started to feel your head spin, but you weren’t there yet. You could still handle yourself. Joe had excused himself to go to the restroom later that night when the bartender had handed you a drink that you didn’t order.

“It’s from that gentleman.” He said, pointing at the man across the bar from you.

He was cute, and you were kind of getting bored with Joe just staring at you all night, so you waved the guy over. He sat on Joe’s empty chair and introduced himself to you as Theo. You both started talking, and he had asked you where you were from since he could tell you weren’t from London at all. You didn’t know how much time had passed because you two were having a good conversation and the sight of Joe had disappeared. You didn’t even realize that it had been an hour because until now, Joe hadn’t come back from the restroom.

He probably went home. 

That’s what you thought until your little conversation with Theo had turned bitter. He had mentioned how he knew about Joe and thought he was a bad actor. He mentioned how actors were fake and arrogant people before he started trailing his hand up on your thigh. 

“Is he bothering you? You look a little bored, darling. I can make your night better.” Theo’s hand slowly slid up your thigh.

You pushed his hand away from you, feeling a bit uncomfortable. Joe may be an ass to you, but he didn’t know Joe. He was a stranger. Sure, you may think he was an ass from his little stupid jokes, but him saying shit about Joe when he didn’t know him at all just to make himself look better? Just so he could take you back to his place? And the audacity he had to touch you? You could literally knock him out right now. 

“We should go.” You heard Joe’s familiar voice.

You turned to see Joe standing next to you, his sharp glare only at Theo, his gentle hand on your back. You could tell Joe looked pissed. You weren’t going to lie, you were kind of glad that he was here, but you weren’t going to show him that. You weren’t going to let his ego win either. 

“She doesn’t want you, mate.” Theo declared. 

“Fuck off.” Joe barked at him before turning his full attention to you. “Let’s go.”

“She doesn’t want to be with you, mate. She was still talking to me.” Theo chimed in again, and you could see Joe’s nostrils flared in anger.

You have never seen him like this. This was the first time you saw Joe like this. You could see the blood rushing up to his neck and face then you watched as Joe turned to Theo again and moved his face closer to him.

“I said fuck off before I have someone kick you out.” Joe growled, slowing his words down to make sure Theo understood every word of it.

Alright, you had enough of this. You jumped off from the stool and tugged on Joe’s arm. He was still giving Theo a death glare but as soon as he felt your hand on his arm, he turned to look at you, brows furrowed and face slowly relaxing.

“Let’s go.” You murmured and walked out of the pub.

The last thing you wanted was some trouble. You didn’t even wait for Joe to follow behind you. You just wanted to go back to the hotel, so you started walking down the pavement without even looking back. 

The cold winter air was blowing on your face and hair, and you pulled your coat closer to your chest. Then, you heard heavy footsteps behind you that you only figured it was Joe. 

You were pissed. 

You were pissed because Joe could push your buttons so easily and your little plan to give him a taste of his own medicine had backfired. Instead, you listened to some man talk shit about him just so he could get to you. You were pissed because you just didn’t understand what you did to Joe just for him to hate you so much. You were pissed because men kept treating you like shit. 

“Are you okay?” Joe asked, his fingers softly curling around your forearm to stop you from your tracks. 

God, you wanted to cry. Why? You didn’t even know. You were just tired of being so understanding and being so nice. Maybe the alcohol was making you a bit emotional too, but you were just exhausted. You were pissed and you were frustrated. It wasn’t like you to really act like this, but you had too much to drink tonight, and you would probably regret it the next morning but nothing or no one was stopping you at this moment.

“You know what, I didn’t need your help!” You yelled at him, turning to face him with an anger expression on your face. Joe froze from the reaction he received from you. There was a few inches of gap between you two and Joe’s eyes widened in surprise. 

“I don’t even know why you act like you care when you don’t! You just like to piss me off all the time for no damn reason ever since you met me!”

“I don’t—” Joe shook his head, stunned at what you told him. 

“I know you hate me, and I don’t know why, but can you just please stop pestering me for once? Just leave me alone for fuck’s sake!”

You felt the tears welling up in your eyes and you immediately turned away from him, making sure he didn’t see you break down. Your cup had overflowed, and you didn’t know where that came from but at the same time, it felt good to let out all the emotions you have been hiding for the last few years. 

“Just fucking leave me alone.” You muttered before continuing down the pavement and leaving Joe still frozen in his place.

*******

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[endless-summer-soldier]

cruel to be kind - chapter five

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (90s college AU)

summary: it started with a dare. Bucky restlessly pursues Y/N, seeking just one date. as he chases her, he realizes she's different from she challenges him, so he starts to catch feelings. but it all falls apart when she learns about his initial motivations. based on 10 things I hate about you!

warnings: alcohol use, cursing

word count: 1.8k

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taglist: @caritobbg @tellmealovestory @mrs-bucky-barnes106 @charmedbysarge @theroyalmanatee @ozwriterchick @aya-fay @differenttyphoonwerewolf @gorillaglue23 @elizabeth916 @matchat3a @buckyb-stan @sebsgirl71479 @drewsuncrustables @lokidokieokie @nats-whore @m4nulup1n @arcanebabe @tanyaspartak @jackiehollanderr @princezzjasmine @pono-pura-vida @mavrellover91 @helluvapimp @blackwood-bodecker-housewife

He started with giving her space. He knew her well enough to know that’s what she needed. And then he started with small things. He left coffee on her doorstep, with little notes on the paper cups. Some days he would bring her a bagel to accompany her coffee. She hadn’t reached out to him, but every time he came by, the food he left wasn’t there so he only hoped she was collecting his gifts. 

Finally, he gained the courage to text her: Can we talk?

Her response was quick, and final: No.

He let out a deep breath. He would throw in the towel today, but planned to try again tomorrow.

Carol placed the brown paper bag and coffee cup on the table. 

“Looks like we have a breakfast sandwich this morning,” she commented, peeking into the brown paper bag. 

“I don’t want it,” Y/N replied.

“Yes you do. It’s a perfectly good bacon, egg, and cheese. As soon as I leave, you’ll eat it. Might as well just eat it now.”

Y/N sighed, but approached the breakfast Bucky had left for her, taking a long sip of the coffee.

“Fuck. He always brings me the best coffee.”

“Will you just forgive him already? I’m tired of tripping over your meals every time I leave the apartment.”

“Oh, well I’m so sorry to inconvenience you,” she replied, dripping with sarcasm.

“What happened between you two? It seemed like things were going really well.”

“He’s an asshole. That’s what happened.”

“Did you let him explain or did you just freeze him out?”

Y/N looked at her with contempt, giving her an answer.

“Y/N…” Carol urged.

“He fucking hurt me. For once I felt like I could open up to someone and be myself, and it was all a lie. I don’t know how to forgive him for that. This is exactly why I don’t let people in. They always let you down.”

Carol took in her roommate and saw the pain behind her eyes. She wrapped her arms around Y/N and gently ran a hand down her back in comfort.

“I’m sorry that he hurt you. Just think about letting him explain before you shun him from your life. The last thing I would want is for you to regret this decision years from now. If he is someone you can genuinely see yourself with, the least you can do is give him a chance. Boys are stupid, they make mistakes.”

Y/N let out a deep sigh, “I’ll think about it.”

Bucky had just dropped off breakfast for Y/N when he heard the front door open. He ducked around the corner and hid, hoping it was Y/N leaving for class and he could talk to her and give an explanation. He peeked around the corner and was disappointed to see it was her roommate. She picked up the coffee cup and breakfast sandwich and brought it inside. 

Bucky then thought maybe if he could get through to the roommate, then she would talk to Y/N. He approached the door again and right before he was about to knock, he heard voices coming from the other side of the door.

“Will you just forgive him already? I’m tired of tripping over your meals every time I leave the apartment.” 

“Oh, well I’m so sorry to inconvenience you.” He recognized Y/N’s signature sarcasm immediately.

“What happened between you two? It seemed like things were going really well.”

“He’s an asshole. That’s what happened.” Her words stung, but he had to admit to himself that they were true. 

“Did you let him explain or did you just freeze him out?” 

It was silent for a few moments and Bucky almost considered leaving when Y/N’s roommate spoke again.

“Y/N…”

“He fucking hurt me. For once I felt like I could open up to someone and be myself, and it was all a lie. I don’t know how to forgive him for that. This is exactly why I don’t let people in. They always let you down.”

Bucky’s already weak heart broke even further. Listening to her hurting was even worse than being ignored. He hated himself for doing this to her and he wasn’t even sure he deserved her back at this point. He had to reconsider his position. Maybe it’d be for the best if he just let her go…

Y/N opened the door in the morning and immediately felt her stomach drop when she spotted her empty doorstep. The coffee had stopped showing up a few days ago, yet every morning she peeked out to check if there was something there for her. At first she thought Carol had been taking everything, but when she asked, Carol denied the accusation and immediately became suspicious. It didn’t take long for her roommate to realize she actually cared for the small gifts being left for her.

The worst part was, Y/N hated the idea that he had given up. He messed up, but she didn’t want to lose him. So now she was stuck. She continued on with classes, feeling distracted and disinterested in the course work. She kept peering out the windows, wondering what he was doing and how he was feeling.

When her final class of the week was done, Y/N was fully ready to be curled up in her bed, binge watching Netflix and eating ice cream straight from the container. As she approached her door, she noticed her next door neighbor pulling out his keys to head into his apartment.

“Hey! You…” she called, realizing she didn’t know her neighbor’s name.

“Can I help you?” he asked with a confused look.

“Sorry, what’s your name?” she asked.

“Sam…”

“Sam, you’re friends with Bucky, right?”

“...Yes,” he replied cautiously.

“Have you…seen him lately?”

“Why do you care?”

She sighed, wondering how she was going to pull this off, “Can I buy you a drink? I just want to pick your brain.”

He shrugged and put his keys in his pocket, “I won’t turn down a free beer.”

Once they reached the bar, Y/N ordered them a pitcher of Miller Lite and they sat at a high top. She had never spoken with Sam, aside from when she yelled at him through the wall. 

“So, I need to know more about this dare.”

Sam took a big swig of beer and went into it, “The whole thing was Zemo’s idea. You yelled at us to keep it down and Bucky defended you. Then Zemo dared him to ask you out and Bucky wasn’t on board. I think he eventually gave in just to get him to shut up. I didn’t think he’d go through with it, we certainly weren’t checking in with him. But we were seeing him less and less. He mentioned to us that he was taking you to a party and then he wasn’t coming over as much. I assumed things were going well, and I think Zemo couldn’t let him have the happy ending, which is why he made a comment.”

She pondered her next question, “Was this all just a big joke for him?”

“Not at all. Bucky doesn’t do things for a laugh. He only goes for things he’s serious about. And you were all he could talk about for weeks. It was actually really annoying.”

“Have you seen him recently?”

Sam shook his head, “He’s been spending all his free time trying to win you over.”

She sighed, “Can you make plans with him? See what he’s thinking?”

Sam eyed her, “What do you mean?”

“I just don’t know if he’s still interested.”

“Oh he’s interested. He doesn’t give up that easily.”

She put her head in her hands, “I just don’t know what to do.”

Sam saw her internal struggle and knew he could be of assistance, “Let me help you.”

Y/N turned the cassette in her hands over and over again, studying her handwritten tracklist. Was she really doing this? It was so impossibly cheesy that she couldn’t quite believe she was putting herself out there like this.

When Sam suggested she do something personal for Bucky, to show him she was still interested, she had no idea how to do that. Carol was the one who suggested a mixtape, and it was kind of perfect aside from being completely cliche. Making mixtapes was a habit of hers, but she had never made one for someone else. It took time to perfectly cultivate the contents and Y/N knew if she didn’t act quickly, she’d risk losing Bucky completely.

Y/N knocked on her neighbors door and was immediately face to face with Sam, her messenger. He held up his end of the deal and was meeting Bucky at their regular bar. She didn’t say anything as he opened the door, but merely held out the cassette tape in its clear plastic case.

Sam smiled approvingly, “Here I was expecting a love note, but this is so much better.”

She rolled her eyes, “Just get it to him in a non obvious way. I want it to take him by surprise.”

“And how would you like me to do that?”

“I don’t know, just slide it into the pocket of his leather jacket or something.”

Sam gave her a look and said, “I make no promises, but I’ll do my best.”

“Sorry to drag you into all this, but I do appreciate your help,” she said earnestly.

“It’s all for Buck. He’s helped me out of more jams that you could imagine.”

She nodded and headed back to her apartment door, “Just let me know when you complete the drop.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said.

Bucky said his goodbye to Sam and closed out his tab at the bar. He tried to shake Y/N from his mind and meeting Sam for a few beers seemed like a good way to do that, but after his third beer he realized that he wasn’t in the mood to be around drunken frat boys.

He walked out of the bar and was met with a chill in the air that hadn’t been there before. He pulled on his black leather jacket. He reached into his pocket in search of a cigarette, thinking that a smoke might help warm him up on his walk home. As he pulled out the pack, he realized it wasn’t a pack at all. It was a plastic case containing a cassette tape. He stopped in his tracks to study the tape. It certainly wasn’t in his pocket when he left for the bar. As he flipped the tape over, he noticed the handwritten tracklist tucked into the case. The handwriting was a unique combination of print and cursive and every lowercase “I” was missing its tittle. As he read through the songs, a small smile crept up his face. He didn’t know all of the tracks, but the few he did recognize were songs he loved. 

Bucky tucked the tape back into his pocket and took off at a run to his car. This mixtape was a message from Y/N, and he had to listen to it as soon as possible.

[lovelybucky1]

Kinktober Day 28-Sex Pollen

warnings: gender neutral!reader, dubcon, sex pollen, TGM spoilers, mentions of injury, mentions of semi-public sex, 18+ minors dni

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When you heard the news that Bradley and Maverick went down behind enemy lines, you were devastated. Your heart sank and you felt sick to your stomach, like your whole life was just ripped away from you and left you standing there, cold and empty.

When you heard the news that they were flying back to the carrier in an old F-14 after Jake saved them, you and your fellow pilots celebrated. Jumping, cheering, high fives, a few chest bumps here and there. A seemingly impossible mission completed with some difficulty, but no casualties.

The boys landed and you tried to push your way through the crowd to get to Rooster, but you couldn’t make it through the dense swarm. You watched from a distance as Bradley and Maverick hugged, and Jake and Bradley shook hands and shared a warm smile. It warmed your heart to see the connection your boyfriend has built with both men in these last few weeks.

Bradley finally makes it out of the crowd and spots you. As he’s walking over, his smile seems to fade and it’s like someone has dropped an elephant on his back.

“Baby,” he groans as he throws himself into your arms.

You hug him tightly, but he doesn’t hug you back. He’s limp in your hold, dead weight threatening to topple you over.

“What’s the matter?” you ask, figuring it’s a dumb question but you might as well ask.

Bradley pulls back from the hug and you see his eyes, droopy and rimmed with red. His lips are parted just slightly and he seems to be breathless.

“Need you,” he whispers.

Your brows furrow. “What?”

“Need you so bad. It fucking burns, honey. Please… we gotta find somewhere soon because I can’t take it anymore.” His voice has a desperate edge to it, like he really is in pain, so you grab his hand and lead him away from the crowd.

After a short walk, you find a secluded closet and you pull Bradley into it. You shut the door and almost instantly, your back is being pressed firmly into it.

“What happened?” you ask.

“Mav and I… we got into somethin’. Don’t know what it was but it made me feel awful. I felt so sick and then…”

“Then what?”

“God, I got so hard,” he groans.

Your eyes widen and you look down to see the sizable bulge in your boyfriend’s pants. You trail your fingertips over it and his hips buck, desperate searching for more friction.

“Oh, Bradley… how long have you been like this?”

“Feels like days. Mav and I were trying to start up the F-14 and there was some power that blew into my face and Jesus Christ I think I’m gonna die.”

You wrap your arms around his waist and pull him close in what was meant to be a hug, but he took it as an opportunity to rub himself against your hip.

“Everything hurts so bad. My throat itches, my head is pounding, and I’m so fuckin’ hot.”

You manage to unzip his flight suit a little to find his black t-shirt underneath soaked through with sweat. He buries his face into the crook of your neck and holds you as close as he possibly can.

“Didn’t realize how bad it was until we landed. Saw you and it got even worse. Fuck, baby, I need to fuck you. Need to feel you around my cock or I swear to god I’m gonna lose my mind.”

You nod quickly and scramble to think about how you can help him. You’re not really one to have sex in public, but if it’s between your modesty and your boyfriend’s life��

“Fuck me, Bradley.”

if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging. engagement had been down recently due to tumblr’s new censorship of fanfiction that includes smut, and i want to be able to share my work with as many people as possible. if you want to be tagged in future fics, fill out the form for my taglist found on my pinned post. thank you for reading <3

[obxone]

Vigilante Shit (Chapter Eight)

Edited-ish. ~1.8k words

Tag list: @fishingirl12 @gillybear17 @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @gills-lounge @emmafitzzz @redfieldfx @baby19sthings

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Spaghetti. You have decided it is what you will feed the pogues tonight at the Chateau. Taking care of John B and the other pogues along with your brother is all you have been able to think about lately, and you are determined to make sure the Chateau is in a decent, livable condition for the pogues. Making dinner with your favorite people, including Mav, has you smiling brighter than you can ever imagine.  

“Well, well!”

Annoyance prickles down your spine, and you huff harshly, already knowing who it is behind you. On instinct, you tighten your grip on the jar of pasta sauce before turning to see Barry smirking at you as he leans back against the edge of the shelving unit.

The idea of the metal folding under his weight and burying him in groceries until he is gone pops into your head, but you shake it away and turn back to your browsing.

“What do you want, Barry?”

“Damn! I can’t shop like everyone else?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes while setting the jar into your basket. “We both know that is not why you are here.” 

Even if he would not admit it, you both know that he followed you inside and had been lying in wait for this moment. Barry makes you uneasy, and he knows it.

He smirks, gold tooth flashing. “Saw those pogues this morning. All five of them…”

And there it is. The threat, and you know exactly who it is aimed at. Your brother. Why else would he mention the pogues?

“And?”

His smirk grows, and he drags his hand over his jaw. “Well… the way I see it, Peach if it can’t be like old times, then JJ can be the one to pay off your dad’s debt.”

You wipe the annoyance from your face and cock your head to the side in confusion. “I didn’t realize you were that desperate for the affection of a Maybank, Barry.” Anger blooms across his face, but you do not let him stew or even speak as you set your shoulders back and glare at him. “Stay away from my brother.” You sneer at him, hands tightening around the basket handles so tight your fingers turn white. “Or so help me…”

“Or what?” He interjects, clearly fuming at your remark and not understanding the threat you want to throw at him. “What will you do?”

You smirk then, shifting the weight of the basket to keep it between you. “I’m not just a pretty face anymore. Don’t push me.”

“Or that kook boyfriend of yours will come save the day?”

“I don’t need Mav to save me.” You glare at him. “I didn’t need Rafe back then, and I don’t need Mav now. It took me a long time and a lot of shit to develop a voice. But now that I have, I refuse to remain silent.”

“Are you threatening to snitch, Peach?”

“Only if you push my hand,” you mutter before slapping his hand away as he tries to reach for you. “Hard to call in a debt when you are sitting in a prison cell. Go the fuck away.”

Barry smirks, enjoying your anger. Without even intending to you have played right into where he wants you. He tsks with a shake of his head after. “So unladylike.”

“Fuck you, Barry,” you seethe, shoving the basket at his chest, and he grabs it before it can drop to the ground.

You push past him, only pausing momentarily when you see Kelce, Rafe, and Topper staring at you both. Two of the three are amused at the show before them, but the center looks less than pleased. You push past them as well. The brush of your body against his has a twisting feeling launching in Rafe’s stomach.

“Don’t,” you mutter to Rafe, aware of how this looks.

You can imagine the wheels turning in his head at the scene that unfolded before him.

Once outside, you inhale sharply, sucking fresh air into your lungs as you try to remember where you parked. A panic over your worst nightmare unfolding. Barry and Rafe are in one place and ready to torture you. Without a doubt, you know you can defend yourself, but you would rather have someone with you like your brother or any of the other pogues.

“Hey,” Rafe’s hand encloses your upper arm when you try to step off the curb.

With the intention to get as far away from the store as you can, you do not see it, and Rafe is the only reason you are not crushed on the pavement as a car rushes past. You turn away from the street and into his chest, a shocked gasp leaving you as you grip his shirt tightly.

“You good?” He asks, his voice dropping lower, turning almost soothing. “You okay?”

“I needed to get away.” You quietly explain, hands pressing against his chest ready to create space. This looks bad, and you know it. Your body burns from his touch. Strong familiar hands graze your waist. “We shouldn’t be touching, Rafe.”

He scoffs, tightening his grip. “You almost just got yourself killed.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Rafe steps that last inch closer. Leaning over you, he continues to keep his eyes locked on yours. “I saved you. I did that.” His eyes are heated as he stares down at you. “You don’t have to be this with me.”

Defiantly tipping your chin back, you meet his gaze head-on, challenging him. “It’s better to be strong, than pretty and useless. Don’t you think?”

He is silent, not impressed with you in the slightest. Fragments of your shared history weighing on both of you.

You roll your eyes, starting to take a step back, but he does not let go. “I’m fine. Being run over is the least of my concerns.”

Rafe smirks, keeping you closer to him. “So are you going to do to Mav what you did to me then? Cheat with that dirtbag?”

You inhale sharply, heart squeezing at his accusation. “Our relationship ended long before I ever slept with Barry.”

He laughs, a dark maniacal laugh. “Yeah?”

“Rafe!” Topper calls from the doorway into the shop. “You coming or not?”

“Go,” you murmur, yanking yourself free as Rafe looks over his shoulder to his friend. “Your buddies are waiting. Like always.”

He turns back to you, watching you for any kind of flicker of regret he so desperately wants you to feel, but it is not there. “You should go back to your side of the island and stay there, y/n.”

“Fuck you, Rafe.”

“Whatever. Don’t come crying to me when Mav dumps you.”

You stare after him in shock as he storms off, back into the shop. Barry is at one of the many windows, watching you with a wide smirk, having witnessed the shambles of you and Rafe falling apart even more. There is already a crater between you, and it only seems to grow wider and deeper with each interaction.

The pogues can tell you are upset when you arrive with the provisions from another store. Your attention shifts solely to prepping dinner. Silence and chopping all they hear as they watch you from a distance. You can hear faint murmurs of worry and JJ trying to get them distracted from your mood. Arms wrap around you, and lips press to your face over and over. You freeze until Mav’s cologne invades your sense of smell. His chest is warm against your back. You had not even realized he had shown up, your thoughts scattered to the wind over your day so far.

“Are you okay?” His lips brush your ear as he quietly asks you.

You turn and close your eyes before burying your face in his chest. He holds you tightly, pulling you as close as he can get you into his chest.

“Was it Rafe?”

“No.”

And it is not Rafe. It is mostly Barry and his promise to harm JJ if it meant he got what he wanted.

“What do you need, Baby?”

“Help me finish dinner?” You ask, lifting your head to look at him. “Are you staying to eat?”

He grins, pecking your forehead. “If you have room.”

“Plenty of room!” John B calls, and you laugh, glancing at them sprawled around the living room. You smile, leaning against your boyfriend as you watch them for a moment. Mav notices the light in your eyes now as you watch them. His heart warming at the sight of your happiness.

“Happy to come home, huh?”

“Thrilled,” you murmur before pecking his lips. Then you turn your attention to your second brother, a teasing tilt to your voice. “Thank you, John B, for letting a kook crash our dinner night.”

He grins, peeling himself off the couch and coming in to grab a beer. “For you, anything.” He ruffles the hair on top of your head before glancing as JJ crowds into the small kitchen space.

“We like him anyways.” JJ teases, and you laugh, glancing at Mav. He winks at you, leaning against the counter and taking the beer JJ offers him.

You watch them for a moment, admiring their sibling-like bond. Your heart clenches at the thought of Barry getting his hands on your brother. Those blue eyes alight with happiness as he jokes with your boyfriend and John B and how quickly Barry would snuff it out if given the chance. Their laughter fills the kitchen until it fades out as they all register you watching them.

“Hey…” JJ moves closer, and you immediately blink back the tears before clearing your throat.

“You’re my brothers, until the end of time. Even after that.” You murmur quickly and pull them both into you for a hug. “Now,” you whisper, clearing your throat again before gently shooing them out of the kitchen. “Now leave me to make dinner.”

They laugh before both fall into an empty chair, and Mav crowds you again. His arms looping around your waist, chin parking on your shoulder. “What happened?”

You turn your face to look at him before sighing. “I ran into Barry.”

His face shifts, anger washing over his features. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, Baby, he didn’t.”

Mav sighs, his hand cupping your face. Palm warm against your skin.

“He threatened JJ.”

“What?!”

Instead of answering him, for a moment you press your face into his palm. Your lips brush just above his wrist. You try to calm your aching heart as you think about sharing this information with him. “He said that if it can’t be like old times… then JJ can be the one to pay the debt.” You look up at him, blinking away tears. “I threatened him. I promised him I would sell him out for his past crimes.”

Mav pulls you into his chest, his body wrapping around you to hold you close as you share the weight of your burden with him instead of your brother.

“Dinner is going to overcook,” you whisper against his chest after a few moments pass.

“Fuck it. We’ll order pizza.”

You laugh, and he joins in before pressing his lips to the crown of your head.

“Let me finish, and then after we eat, you and I will cuddle together in the hammock and watch these weirdos do stupid shit.”

Mav laughs again, and you giggle before pulling away and stirring both pots.

(Chapter Eight)

[baronessblixen]

Prompt? Mulder and Scully pick out baby furniture and later talk about baby names? Or one or the other, I'm happy either way! 🙈

Look who's answering a five-year-old prompt! I think this was supposed to be about the new baby, but I wrote about William instead.

Fluff, set after "Alone": With Mulder being unemployed, and Scully on maternity leave, they spend their time thinking about furniture, baby names, and all the ways their lives will change. (wc: 1,378)

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2023

Fictober Day 14: Preparation is Everything

Fox Mulder is a new man.

His naked body is still adorned with pale scars, but they’re healing, slowly fading away. Soon, they will be gone, and with them the only proof of what he went through. How many people can claim to have come back from the death? Mulder doesn’t even want to know.

The other day, Scully left a pamphlet for group therapy on his coffee table. His first instinct was to throw it into the trash, but then he reconsidered. Scully isn’t pushing him. No one is. They’re all just glad he’s back among the living. Well, most of them. He bets that Kersh can’t wait for him to die for real. That feeling, he realizes, is mutual.

When he stood in front of Kersh's desk, his former boss barely able to contain his glee, he was ready to fight. To defend himself and go on another rampage. That feeling lasted all of five seconds. Not worth it, a voice inside him whispered. He thought of Scully, and the baby, and knew that they were the only thing that mattered to him now. They didn’t need him jumping off oil rigs. He’s caused Scully seven years of grief and he was done. Enough was enough. Someone else could take over the X-Files. He may not trust Doggett yet, but Scully does. And when Scully trusts someone, he knows they’re good people.

So, he’s Fox Mulder now. Just Fox Mulder. Unemployed bum, spending time at his partner’s apartment whenever she lets him, and trying to figure out what to do next.

“What are you doing?” Mulder asks as he steps into the living room where Scully sits on the couch, engrossed in a colorful catalog.

“Looking at baby furniture,” she replies with a sigh.

“I thought- I thought you already had everything.”

“I thought I’d have more time,” she admits sheepishly, biting her lip. Seeing his Scully unprepared for anything just makes him love her more. But he knows better than to tease her.

“Well, you’re in luck,” Mulder says, sitting down next to her. “We both have plenty of time. With me being fired, and you on maternity leave, we have all the time in the world. Let’s go shopping.”

“Mulder, we have the catalog.” She points at a crib with a smiling baby inside of it. Mulder thinks it looks a bit like an alien. “We can order everything we need.”

“Or,” he says, drawing the word out. “We can go into a store and pick things out.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure I don’t want the kid to sleep in a thing that looks like this.” He points at the ugliest crib he’s ever seen. “$1000? Does it come with the whole apartment? Come on, Scully. It’s going to be a nice trip to Babies'R'Us.”

*

“Does no one work anymore?” Mulder mumbles as he and Scully step into the crowded baby store. There are squeaky bright colors everywhere and Mulder doesn’t know where to start. He keeps close to Scully’s side, but she, too, seems overwhelmed by the sheer size of this place.

“Wish you were hunting monsters instead?” he asks Scully and she gives him a small smile.

“At least we have experience with that.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Mulder assures her. “Look, that’s the baby section. Let’s start there.”

In the end, it’s not as difficult as either of them thought it would be. It doesn’t take them long to find the essentials. They both fall in love with the same crib and Mulder gets so excited that he kisses her quickly and noisily in front of another family, not caring at all.

“Mulder.” Her cheeks are coloring and she’s looking around nervously. Old habits die hard.

“I doubt we’ll run into Skinner or Kersh here, Scully. Or anyone we know. Either way, we’re not working together anymore, are we?” The realization hits him that he’s telling the truth. As of right now, they’re no longer work partners. There’s nothing holding them together. He’s not even FBI anymore.

“Are you all right?” Scully touches his chest.

“I’m- I just realized that we’re no longer partners.”

“Are you leaving me?” There’s no worry in her voice, but rather amusement.

“You know what I mean.”

“Mulder, we don’t need to be working together in the basement to be partners. You know that, right? We are partners in this.” She takes his hand and puts it on her stomach. “Unless you-”

“Oh, I want. I’m all in, Scully. I hope you know that?” She nods, and he sees a few tears pool in the corner of her eyes. He almost ruined another moment with his insecurities.

“Do you think we have everything we need for now?”

“You’re tired,” Mulder states and she doesn’t deny it.

“And hungry,” she says with an apologetic smile.

“We’ll get you and Junior something to eat. Let’s get out of here.”

*

Their baby is a pizza lover. They may not know much about their child yet, but they do know that. Mulder watches Scully happily lick her fingers clean after eating a slice of greasy pepperoni pizza and thinks he might even be a little turned out by her enjoyment of it.

“Happy now?” he asks her, unable to hide his own happiness.

“Very much so. I just- I need to get comfortable.” She’s half sitting, half lying on the couch, and watching him with curious eyes. She’s been doing that a lot lately. Who can blame her? After all, she had to bury him. Had to try and make peace with him being gone and having to do all of this on her own. He doesn’t want to think about missing all of this. He’s missed so much already. The moment she found out. The morning sickness. Her growing belly. He missed all of it. He can only try to make up for all of it now. But they will never get that time back.

“Mulder, stop,” she says gently, a hand on his thigh. “I can feel you thinking.”

“Can you?” he asks with a sad smile.

“I wish I could turn back the time and-”

“None of this is your fault, Scully.”

“It’s not your fault either.”

“Debatable.”

“Not debatable,” she says firmly. “You’re here now and it’s everything- Mulder, it’s everything.”

“You know you’ll see a lot of me now, right? With me being out of a job. I need to- I will find something. We can’t let Junior think I’m some kind of slob.”

“You’re going to be an amazing father,” Scully whispers as if she were sharing a secret.

“Let’s hope you’re right.”

“I’m always right.” She winks at him and they both laugh softly. A truce.

“Have you thought about names for Junior?” Mulder asks as Scully snuggles into his side. He puts his arm around her and, a bit more hesitantly, lets his hand wander to her stomach. What a miracle they’ve created together.

“I have a few ideas. What about you?”

“It’s your decision.”

“Mulder.”

“No, I think you should decide. I’ll veto if it’s something like… Nimrod.”

“Too bad. That was my favorite.” She grins up at him. “I was thinking about all the people we lost. Samantha and Melissa. We could pick something similar to that, to honor them. Or give them a name with no memories attached. Give them a fresh start.”

“They deserve a fresh start.” Mulder kisses her temple.

“All of us do,” Scully says, putting her hand on top of Mulder’s on her stomach. “We’ll know what to call him when we see him.”

“Him?” Mulder asks.

“Or her.”

“You know,” Mulder says, closing his eyes, and letting his imagination take over. “I think our child is going to change the world. Save it even, maybe. They’re going to do great things.” He can see it. Can see their child grow up from baby to child, to teenager and adult. He can’t wait to be there and watch every single step they take. Holding their hand if they need him to.

“I think you’re right, Mulder,” Scully says.

“You hear that, baby?” Mulder presses his ear to her stomach, murmuring the words against the fabric of her shirt. “Your mom just said I’m right.”

[darsynia]

Just Right | Ch 5

(Steve Rogers x F!Reader, post-Ultron Multichapter)

gif from @steverogersdaily

Summary:

You’ve been in love with Steve Rogers for at least a year, but he treats you the same way he treats every other member of the team– with respect, but nothing more. It takes an inter-dimensional mistake and a whole second, more assertive, actually interested Steve for you to realize that you don’t want just any version of Steve Rogers– you want the one you’ve been pining for all this time.

Length: 3,169

FIC MASTERLIST | LAST CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

Want to be tagged on this or any other Steve fic? Please ask!

@ronearoundblindly @munstysmind @tiny-anne @themaradaniels @starryeyes2000 @chickensarentcheap @isasalom

Excerpt:

“I’m going to ask you again. Am I dead in your universe?”

“Yes.”

The words sever the strings of courage that had been holding you upright, and you sway sideways, prompting Gold Steve to get up and help you sit on the bed. He drags his chair over for himself and leans forward on it, eyeing you with the care and concern of a person who has no idea how to fix what they’ve just broken.

“I didn’t want to tell you, not if I could avoid it,” he says. “Part of why I’m here is to reverse what happened, if we can.”

“What?” you gasp, shaken. He’s hopped universes to--

Gold Steve swiftly reaches over to take your hand with an encouraging squeeze. “It happened to a lot of people. More than you could ever imagine. Please don’t be upset, you’re--” He breaks off, looking at you with exasperated warmth. You feel buffeted from all sides, your ability to master your emotions at its lowest ebb. This man would throw himself into any void if he thought it would save a life, but this?

“Did you seriously just try to make me feel better by saying more people died?” 

Chapter Five

Tony seems reinvigorated by your conversation, and he heads back to his lab. Either he’s too caught up in his conclusions or it’s too dark in the room for him to see how shaken you truly are, but you’re grateful. You… need a minute.

You lay back in the chair with your eyes shut, trying to find a way to calm your racing mind so you can sleep. All that does is swirl your thoughts deeper, a cyclonic storm front being fed a steady diet of awful futures and horrible alternatives. Eventually, you stand up and head toward the residence hallway.

Adrenaline makes your knock louder than you’d intended, but now that you’ve done it, there’s no taking it back. You tell yourself that if Gold Steve doesn’t answer after this one try, you’ll give up and try to talk to him during the dayti--

The door opens, faster than you would have expected it would if he had been asleep.

Before he can say anything, your fear bubbles over and you say, “Am I dead?”

His eyes close tightly for a second, and he drops his head. “What time is it?” he asks, his voice low and wary.

“Sometime after three. I can’t sleep, I--”

“Shh, it’s-- Come in? This isn’t a hallway conversation.”

The implication that it’s not a dining or rec room conversation floats between you for a second before you nod, and he backs up to let you in. As you suspected, his bed is still made. There’s a paperback open next to the wrinkles in the coverlet from where he’d been sitting, and a lamp is on. Gold Steve opens a folding chair and then sits on it, meaning he wants you to sit on his bed. You hesitate, and he scrubs a hand over his face.

You have a sneaking suspicion that the only reason Steve Rogers would sit down before a guest in his space is to make that guest pick the more comfortable option. Even so, it feels too intimate to sit on his bed, so you stay standing, wrapping your arms around yourself for support.

Steve’s brows furrow when he sees how uncomfortable you are, but he doesn’t push. Instead, in a soft voice that makes your heart ache, he says, “What makes you ask something like that, ‘Dine?”

“Tony told me about his breakthrough, the molecular fingerprint thing. He didn’t go into the why, but said if he was looking to send someone through dimensions, he’d want to use an anchor.” You hope you make sense, because even after a half hour, comprehension of what Tony had explained to you is slipping through your mental fingers. “He thinks you used me as an anchor, and that you did it because I don’t exist in your universe anymore. That way you could show up before whatever bad thing happened to kill me.” 

His expression is both stunned and regretful. It makes you wonder what your Steve’s expression will look like when that bad thing happens sometime in the near future. The room suddenly feels very cold, and the thing you’re asking may be inflammatory, but it won’t warm anything up.

“I’m going to ask you again. Am I dead in your universe?”

“Yes.”

The words sever the strings of courage that had been holding you upright, and you sway sideways, prompting Gold Steve to get up and help you sit on the bed. He drags his chair over for himself and leans forward on it, eyeing you with the care and concern of a person who has no idea how to fix what they’ve just broken.

“I didn’t want to tell you, not if I could avoid it,” he says. “Part of why I’m here is to reverse what happened, if we can.”

“What?” you gasp, shaken. He’s hopped universes to--

Gold Steve swiftly reaches over to take your hand with an encouraging squeeze. “It happened to a lot of people. More than you could ever imagine. Please don’t be upset, you’re--” He breaks off, looking at you with exasperated warmth. You feel buffeted from all sides, your ability to master your emotions at its lowest ebb. This man would throw himself into any void if he thought it would save a life, but this?

“Did you seriously just try to make me feel better by saying more people died?” 

“Are you upset at the thought that I’d do it just for you?” Gold Steve whispers your name, your real one, the one almost no one uses, and the tone of his voice leaves nothing to the imagination.

“Don’t,” you plead, pulling your hand away, pressing it to your chest over the heart his counterpart lives in. “You asked me if I had feelings for him, and I do. But whatever difference between our universes that brings you here capable of looking at me with so much affection… That hasn’t happened to him, okay? It’s confusing, and in a really awful way it’s making me dissatisfied with the life I have.” You can’t stay seated anymore, so you get up, backing into the blank space beside his bed where a second nightstand would go. Gold Steve’s giving you his full attention, and the words spill forth, all of them, before you can stop yourself. “And now you’re telling me I’m going to die, that a lot of people are going to die, and you’re you, so obviously it’s something terrible enough to move time and space, and I just--”

Steve gets up abruptly, the fierceness of his action knocking the chair sideways. It collapses down, but he doesn’t stop pacing away from you, the stiffness of his posture illustrating how upset he is.

“I don’t know how to do this anymore,” he grits out, facing the wall across the room from you, head down.

“Do what?”

“Be less than honest with you.”

You don’t feel unsafe, but you do feel unsure. Still, this is a version of Steve, and you love him, even if you aren’t in love with this him. In a way, you feel like you haven’t earned being in love with Gold Steve. The two of you have slotted into some sort of emotional shorthand by accident, and it’s fucking you up.

“So, be honest.”

“You’re going to wish I hadn’t been.”

“Sometimes life is like that, Steve,” you say. It’s the first time you’ve called him that, and you watch the name strike him from behind like a literal cupid’s arrow-- because when Gold Steve turns around, it’s obvious how much it means to him.

“You’re right,” he sighs. “Something terrible happened. We weren’t even sure if we could fix it, but the pieces fell into place…” He looks down at the floor, and the regret painted across his features is somehow beautiful in the half-light. “The cost was too high.”

The two of you abide in the shadow of those words for a moment before he continues.

“We came up with a way to fix it. Tony had already mostly designed the device; he was confident that every Tony Stark could create it, given time. The real question was whether to risk sending me to a universe without him. That’s where you come in.”

“Tony’s the one who got me this job,” you realize aloud. “Isn’t that risky? How could you know every version of me worked with Tony?

“We didn’t have a lot of time to worry about that. There’s more, ‘Dine, but I need you to keep this to yourself. It’s important.”

“I won’t tell anyone if you ask me not to, but… what are you afraid of?”

“That someone would stop me from going back.”

Your heart clenches in your chest. Gold Steve’s expression is best described as dire. “What happened?” you whisper, genuinely frightened. By all reports, Steve had been ready to die in Sokovia, and that had been the latest in a long line of similarly life-threatening events he’d faced with stoic bravery.

He steps toward the middle of the room, the angular shadows from the lamp tracing across his chest. “The… event that took the lives of so many people, it was made possible by a set of powerful artifacts. They’ve been hidden across the universe, and one of them is held on a planet that asks a horrible sacrifice.” Gold Steve falls silent, and you can’t tell whether he’s searching for words or fortitude.

Did he say ‘planet??’ you think to yourself. Aloud, you say, “The one whose cost was too high?”

His smile is lopsided. “Yeah.” He avoids your gaze, looking around the room before seeming to make a decision. “Out of necessity, I lied about some things. My coming here wasn’t a mistake, and we do have this complex, with some variations in the architecture.”

“What don’t you want to tell me, Steve?”

Gold Steve had been avoiding your eyes until you said his name, and the look he gives you makes your breath catch.

“I didn’t tell you that story about loss because I wanted anything from you. I need you to believe that,” he says hoarsely. It’s deflection, but it’s also maybe a confirmation of the thing you hadn’t allowed yourself to conclude.

Imagining yourself as someone he’s loved and lost is too much for you right now. All you can do is nod.

“We gathered up a team, went to get the... artifacts I told you about, and when we all came back, we didn’t all come back. To get one of the stones, there’s a--” He breaks off. “Anyway, we weren’t going to let that stand. We don’t leave anyone behind-- in fact, those were the exact words used. When Tony made a joke about that in Romania…”

“Steve, it’s three in the morning,” you whisper, unable to follow. “I want to understand--”

“No, you’re right,” he says, tone turning confident. The team leader in him is taking over. “Head to bed, we can talk another time.”

It’s only once the door opens and you both move through to the hallway that your mind finally realizes something. It’s an effort to keep your voice quiet.

“Oh my God, Steve, if you get this right, if you reverse what happened, do you get her back?” It’s close to vocalizing a shared secret, the secret: that you are the One Who Got Away.

He closes his eyes and nods. “If we reverse what happened, she comes back, yes.”

“Oh, I hope it works!” you breathe, ducking under his arm to give him an impulsive half hug. Gold Steve tenses up for a second before that arm slings around your waist and squeezes, and he sets his chin against your hair briefly.

“Thank you,” he says, pulling in a breath as though to say something else. You wait, but his silence tells you he changed his mind.

“What is it? You owe me,” you tell him, and his puff of surprised laughter scabs over some of the wounds your conversation inflicted.

“I’m going to say this, even though I shouldn’t meddle,” Gold Steve says, “--but Brigandine, if any part of him is part of me? Then he wants you.”

He steps back and shuts the door, and you’re left in the hallway, shaken to your very core. Deep in your heart, in the places you’d built high, careful walls to prevent heartache, there are vines growing.

You fall back against the wall, heart racing. You’d hoped his story had been about you, but hadn’t dared let yourself think it. After all, you hadn’t met Steve until a year after he’d found out his childhood best friend was the Winter Soldier, and that doesn’t match Gold Steve’s narrative. After a year of loving Steve Rogers, you’d learned the hard way that making assumptions only leads to disappointment. There’s no mistaking what he’d just said, though, and the language he’d used -!

If any part of him is part of me? Then he wants you.

Wants.

There’s no way in hell you can sleep. 

You want to talk to Steve now.  

You want to hide in your room until you figure out what the hell to say to him. 

You want to ask him to teach you how to spar and then beat on him for a while until he admits maybe he thinks you’re cute.

You want to ask Natasha to teach you how to spar and ask her a million, million questions.

Most of all, you just miss Steve. You’d been hiding from the disparity between the two men’s reactions to you for long enough that your heart aches a little. That thought makes you imagine what it must be like for Gold Steve. Sure, he’s got a plan, but there are many steps left on it-- and the person he loves isn’t just a few rooms away. She’s dead, and by all accounts, has no idea how he feels.

You kind of want to knock on his door and tell him the inverse of what he’d said to you, because there’s no way in hell it’s not true. Any version of you is by her very nature completely gone over Steve Rogers. The next best thing you can do for Gold Steve is to make sure that your story doesn’t end the same way.

You hug your arms around yourself and do a dizzy little spin of happiness, anxiety, and hope.

When you come to a stop, an impulsive, sleepy, recalcitrant part of you offers an idea, one you reach for with greedy hands. Three times a week, Steve gets up very early to run, and it’s one of those mornings. You’d only have to wait ninety minutes, which is probably the same amount of time it would take you to fall asleep in bed with your mind racing like this!

You find Steve’s door and settle into a position across from it on the floor, your phone in hand. It’s got enough battery to last a while, and best of all, this gives you time to prepare for what you’ll say.

You wake up in your own bed.

You sit up in utter surprise, scrambling the blanket out of the way to find that yes, you are wearing the clothes you were wearing the night before. You don’t see your shoes anywhere, but they’re not on your feet or in the bed.

“FRIDAY?” you call out, standing waif-like and confused in the middle of your room. “How in the heck am I in my room?”

“Captain Rogers carried you to your room from the hallway just after five in the morning--”

“WHAT?” you shout over her form of address. “Show me?”

You throw yourself into your desk chair and open the laptop, grateful that FRIDAY is integrated enough to take care of the mundane nonsense-- the surveillance camera feed opens right away.

“I can display the footage in whatever order you wish,” FRIDAY prompts.

“How about backwards from when I got in here?”

The display in the window flickers for a second, then starts playing footage backwards. When you see Steve ohmygodhisarmsarebare Rogers back up through the doorway carrying you bridal-style, you slam your hand down on the spacebar to pause the video. It’s hard to breathe as you stare at the frozen image. Steve is wearing a white tank top, facing away from the camera in the process of shouldering his way through the door, careful to keep you from striking the door frame by turning sideways.

You’re certain it’s the Steve from your universe, but ask the question in a stunned whisper anyway. FRIDAY’s response is definitive: this is ‘your’ Steve.

Carefully, you hit the spacebar to unpause.

The blessed hallway camera gives you a front-on view of Steve’s backwards walk, including a moment where he stops and looks down at you. It looks like he’s checking to see if you’re waking up-- but the look on his face is absolutely everything. Your goosebumps have goosebumps as you watch the moment lengthen; Steve tips his head to the side and regards you fondly before starting to move again.

It’s confirmation of what Gold Steve said, in glorious pixelated technicolor.

Excited to rush over and talk to him in person, you get up and start looking for the clothes you’ll change into after your shower. As soon as you open your underpants drawer, though, you’re racing back over and hitting spacebar to play the video again, desperate to see more.

The Steve in the video backs up, then turns, looking down at you for a long second before leaning over to settle you onto the floor. You’re stunned, enraptured, overwhelmed.

Nothing about the video you’re watching contains the kind of jerky movements you’d expect from watching it in reverse. Steve is gentle, careful, and smooth. He’s clearly doing his very best not to wake you up. You’re actually conflicted, because waking up to see him looking down at you so tenderly would have shot up to the top slot in a list of happiest moments of your life, no question.

“Oh my god, I am literally going to combust,” you whisper under your breath. The video is still going, showing you curled up onto your side with your phone propped up onto your hand. This reminds you to look for your phone. You finally find a charge cable sticking out from the drawer of your nightstand-- Steve had clearly  looked for your your charge cable, despaired of finding a place on the messy surface to set down your phone without risking it falling, and stuck it in the drawer.

Is there a chance that Steve Rogers doesn’t know that nightstand drawers are for things guests should never see?  You're lucky yours were tucked farther back and out of sight.

It’s mere chance that has you looking back over at your laptop to see that the video has reached the moment when you'd spun in complete glee in the hallway. You walk over and sit down, smiling indulgently and wrapping your arms around yourself in a mirror of video-you’s movements.

You watch as you back up into Gold Steve’s doorway, and then you realize how different those last moments are when you can see his face.

Gold Steve’s expression is etched with longing as he tells you those world-changing words. That light pressure against your hair was a kiss, and his hands shake a little, as he responds to your hug. There’s grief in every movement he makes.

You’re dumbstruck and worried, rewinding and watching those moments twice, your heart breaking for him more each time. This doesn’t feel like concern about the plan not working. This feels like mourning.

You were already going to go straight to talk to Steve as soon as you got dressed, but now? Now you throw on the clothes you picked out and head out the door. Something is wrong, and the two of you are going to find out what it is.

Next chapter...

[zee-has-commitment-issues]

20 questions for fic writers

Hey!!! Thank you @itsmadreia for tagging me! 💜

How many works do you have on Ao3?

28!

What's your total Ao3 word count?

565,230 and counting

What fandoms do you write for?

Just Young Royals at the moment, but I beta for other fandoms so I wouldn’t be opposed to also writing for other fandoms.

Top five fics by kudos:

1. Simon Eriksson: Just Some Guy From Biology (2,243)

2. Screwed (1,894)

3. Simon Eriksson: Not Really Just Some Guy (1,140)

4. Love Bites (1,118)

5. You Have Reached The Voicemail Box Of… (1,014)

Do you respond to comments?

I do my best! Sometimes I miss one or someone has commented on the same chapter like 5 times and I don’t want to spam them so I just reply all in one, but I do my best to respond to every comment!

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

The Last Time was absolutely the angstiest ending I ever wrote and it wasn’t even a Wilmon fic. It was about fucking Nilcent.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of my fics end in happy endings so I don’t know how to pick just one!

Do you get hate on fics?

Only once and it was someone who made fun of me for making a grammatical mistake in my second language.

Do you write smut?

Actually yes now. Which is wild because six months ago I would have told you never in a million years and then I realized Reckless Abandon needed a sex scene for the plot. And now I’ve written 2 smut scenes? 3? Who’s counting?

Craziest crossover:

Not my fic, but I helped put Simon into @the-navistar-carol ‘s Top Gun fic Aftershocks!

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not a whole fic, but a good portion of the third chapter of screwed got put into someone else’s fic word for word and they thought no one was going to notice 😭

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not translated, but turned into a podfic!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not exactly, but Dani and I help each other work out scenes quite a lot. Sometimes we’ll send each other a document and be like “I don’t know what to do please help”

All time favourite ship?

Wilmon! Although I do love writing some nilcent angst

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I had a dark fic but it was a thought before s2 and it was way too much work. Highly ambitious, very cool, but not doable with my current mental capacity.

What are your writing strengths?

I’ve been told I’m very good at characterizations. I’m really glad people feel that way.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Fucking grammar.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I don’t care really. I like to use it sometimes, mostly for terms of affection. It’s fun to throw it in every once in a while, see who’s paying attention lmao.

First fandom you wrote in?

Divergent lmao

Favorite fic you've written?

It’s impossible to pick just one, but I think I really loved the process of writing Reckless Abandon and Screwed the most out of them. Probably because they took the longest and I got to watch them grow in front of me.

No pressure tags: @the-navistar-carol @insomnaticwriter @allthefakepeople

[rubyreduji]

My Heart Has Gone To You - 04

pairing: lee jihoon x f!reader contents: alcohol consumption, not angst but reader does cry, soft ynhoon moments, use of bunny as pet name, smut [explicit unprotected sex, needy!bottom!jihoon, soft!dom!reader, oral (m. receiving), marking, orgasm delay, masturbation, mention of sending explicit pictures, yall already know jihoon aftercare king] w.c.: 4.4k a/n: if you haven't noticed yet i use ji as nickname for when y/n is more in control and coherent and hoonie when y/n is more needy and submissive

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You haven’t talked to Jihoon in a few days, which isn’t an uncommon occurrence when you guys are both busy people. Midterms are over so your studying isn’t as aggressive as it was a few weeks ago but you’re still swamped with work and projects and life.

According to Soonyoung he’s been cooped up in his studio more often than not and you guys can’t seem to get your schedules to line up. Whenever he’s free, you’re busy, and whenever you’re free, he’s busy. On the slim chance that you guys are both free you’re both too tired to actually do anything other than sleep. 

So you haven’t seen your best friend in a while. You guys don’t really text each other either and when you do it’s a game of phone tag.

When the weekend hits you finally have a day to yourself. You shoot Jihoon a text when Sana comes bursting into your room.

“Come on, we’re going out.”

“What?” You look up at the girl.

“You heard me. Put on a cute little slutty dress and slap on some make up. We’re going clubbing with the girls. I’m going to allow you to sit around and mope just because Jihoon is busy.”

“I’m not moping!”

“Really?” Sana quirks an eyebrow up and looks down at your clothes.

You look down too and realize both the t-shirt and sweatpants you are wearing belong to Jihoon. You pout and claim it’s only because they’re comfortable.

“I don’t care. Pick up your tits or I’m dragging you to the club looking like that!” Sana calls as she walks out of your room.

When you get to the club the other girls are already there. You note it’s only the older girls tonight and it’s most likely because you guys are in an actual club and the younger girls are not old enough to drink.

“Y/N! You look so good. I swear it’s been forever since we’ve seen you!” Jeongyeon comes and throws her arms around you. You giggle and hug her back.

Nayeon has agreed to be the sober one tonight to look after you guys so soon Sana is shoving shot after shot into your hand and soon you’re wasted as you and your girls dance around together.

A small voice in the back of your head whispers how you wish Jihoon is here with you. He’d be dressed in all black with the top buttons of his black dress shirt unbuttoned and his sleeves rolled up. His strong hands would be gripping your waist as you danced around him, trying to get him riled up while still being somewhat discrete. His lips would ghost against your neck as he whispers in your ear what he was going to do when you guys got back to your apartment.

You shake your head and try to get rid of the thoughts of Jihoon. This is a night to enjoy with your girls, not to think about your best friend. You do miss him though…a lot. You wish you could see him. Not to have sex or anything, just see him. Maybe cuddle and watch a movie or play video games together.

You feel tears prick at your eyes and you don’t even know why it has you crying but you’re grateful that Momo comes up to you with another shot so you can focus on something else.

You easily avoid the proposition to dance from men all night as you just want to focus on your girls. You’re thoroughly drunk by the time you guys are calling it a night and your feet hurt and you’re a little cold and you just want to go to bed.

Nayeon has everyone sitting in a booth as she’s trying to figure out how to handle everyone. Her car unfortunately cannot fit five people and she doesn’t want to send you and Sana home alone while drunk.

She doesn’t want to bother anyone but she figures it’s the best call. She’s about to make her call when she hears one of you guys crying. She looks over to see it’s you. Your nose is running and your eyes are teary as you try not to let it all come flowing out.

“Oh honey, what’s wrong?” She slides into the booth next to you and wraps an arm around you.

You go to answer but the dam finally breaks and the tears stream freely down your face. “I miss Jihoonie,” you sob loudly, not even bothering to wipe your eyes or nose. “I want my Hoonie!”

Your wailing catches the attention of a couple other people in the club and Nayeon tries to shush you. “Okay, okay. I’m gonna call him right now. You’ll see Jihoon soon hun.”

Nayeon stands up again and dials the short boy’s number only for her phone to go straight to voicemail. She groans. Now was not the time for his phone to be shut off. It’s late anyways, what is he still doing in his studio?

The older girl tries again and Nayeon sighs as Jihoon’s number goes to voicemail once more. She switches over contacts and dials up Soonyoung who answers on the first ring.

“Nayeon? What’s up?”

“Soonyoung! Thank goodness. I’m at the club right now and I need someone to come pick up Sana and Y/N so I can take Jeongyeon and Momo home,” Nayeon explains.

“Yeah of course, send me the address and Wonwoo and I’ll be right there.”

It takes the boys about ten minutes to get to the club and by then your tears have stopped flowing down your face.

“Y/Nie~” You look up when you hear your name being called and you start sobbing again when you see who it is. Soonyoung looks startled and seeks out Naeyong’s help but the other girl is nowhere in sight. Wonwoo is already leading Sana to the car so he has no choice but to deal with you himself.

He tries to get you to stand up but you push him away. “You’re not my Jihoonie!”

Soonyoung then understands and sighs. The younger boy has been locked up in his studio all week and rarely comes out unless it’s to eat something or go to the bathroom.

Soonyoung and Jihoon live in a five bedroom, two bath apartment that is off-campus. The fifth bedroom was going to go to Minghao but he instead opted to live with Seokmin and Mingyu in the on-campus apartments. Jihoon told the boys he’d take the rent for the fifth room if he could turn it into his music studio and all of the guys agreed.

The problem with having an at-home studio means that when Jihoon gets really in the zone, he never leaves the apartment for anything. Which has now led to Soonyoung trying to wrangle you out of the club and into Wonwoo’s car.

Finally Soonyoung is able to pick you up and dump you into Wonwoo’s car, even if you are squirming around the whole time. In the car you’re still crying and begging for Jihoon and all Soonyoung can do is promise that you’ll see the other boy soon. He feels bad for you knowing that Jihoon has decided to shut out the whole world currently.

It takes some effort, and even calling Jun down to help, but eventually the boys get both you and Sana into their apartment. You’ve seemed to calm down now that you’re inside the apartment and know there’s a chance you’ll be able to see Jihoon soon.

Soonyoung leads you to Jihoon’s bed where you fall down onto and curl up automatically. It’s not the first time you’re spending a night in Jihoon’s bed and you relish being enveloped in the smell of Jihoon. The older boy walks over to the room next door and knocks on the door. When there’s no answer Soonyoung assumes Jihoon either has his headphones on or fell asleep on his studio couch again. He doesn't even try the door, knowing it’s locked, and just goes back to Jihoon’s room to break the bad news to you.

He’s about to start talking when he realizes you’re already fast asleep, face buried in Jihoon’s pillow. Soonyoung shuts off the light and closes the door. Sana is also fast asleep on the apartment couch when he passes by and he finally trudges to his room and falls asleep himself.

When you wake up you feel like you want to die. The room is too bright and your body feels cramped. You go to stretch your limbs but run into something and you finally blink your eyes open and realize you’re not in your own room.

It doesn’t take much to clue you in on the fact that you’re in Jihoon’s room though. Not only does the whole room smell like him but you recognize his bedspread and the photo of the two of you on his nightstand.

You blink down at the form next to you that grunts when you try to move again. Only the top of Jihoon’s head sticks out from the covers, his black hair spread across his pillow. You didn’t hear or feel him come to bed last night so you’re a bit surprised to see him there.

“Hi baby.” His voice is muffled by the covers and droopy with sleep, but you still hear him. “Didn’t want to wake you up when I came to bed, but I did change your clothes.”

You look down and finally notice you’re out of your uncomfortable club dress and in a pair of Jihoon’s boxers and one of his sweaters.

“I heard you got into some fun last night and started to miss me.” You then remember that you quite literally cried in the club as you sobbed to see Jihoon. “Sorry we haven’t seen each other in a while, that’s on me, c’mere.”

Jihoon’s arm is snaking around your waist and pulling you back down onto the bed. You snuggle up into his chest and he kisses the top of your head. His body is warm and you practically melt in his arms, finally having what you’ve been craving for over a week now.

“I really missed you,” you mumble into his chest. You feel tears start to well up in your eyes again and you don’t even know why you’re crying, you’re literally in Jihoon’s arms. “I just love you a lot, Hoonie. Wanted to see you so bad.”

“I know babydoll, I know.” He wipes at your tears before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “It’s okay, I’m here now.”

Jihoon held you for what was probably another thirty minutes, pressing soft kisses into your hair and face, until he heard your stomach rumble. He laughs and pushes you off him softly so he could sit up.

“Come one, let’s go make breakfast. I’m sure Sana and the boys will be hungry too.” Jihoon stands and you slowly follow him into the kitchen where he supplies you with a cup of water and some painkillers. He then starts to move around the kitchen to make breakfast.

It’s early enough that nobody else is awake and that you are still feeling clingy so as Jihoon cooks the eggs on the stove you stand behind him and wrap your arms around his torso, resting your chin on his shoulder.

Jihoon hums along to a song he’s working on as he makes breakfast. It’s been a while since he’s been able to eat a proper breakfast and be around the people he loves so he cherishes this time as you won’t let him go.

Soon the other people in the apartment wake up and gather around the kitchen table and you and Jihoon serve out the food. The boys make jabs at Jihoon that it’s nice to finally see him and he brushes them all off.

When breakfast is over you’re following Jihoon into his studio. You sit down on his couch and he pulls up one of his computer tabs and hands you his headphones.

“This is the song I’ve been working on. Take a listen?” You nod and grab the headphones from him. “It’s not totally finished, but I think I’m gonna title it ‘Ruby’.”

You slide the headphones on and listen to the opening chords. It sounds like the start of a ballad until the drums sound and Jihoon starts to sing. You’re shocked by the change in pace of the song, but it’s a good shock.

You’ve always loved Jihoon’s music but this song fully entrances you. It’s all in English and you’re glad that your parents forced you to take all of those English lessons as a kid.

“Shit this is red too.” Your eyes widen at the line and you stare up at Jihoon, slack jawed.

The song finished up and you’re taking the headphones off. “Jihoon this is amazing! Like, I can’t even describe it. It’s one of your best I think.”

Jihoon chuckles and blushes a bit. “Well I’m glad you like it, considering it’s about you.”

You’re not completely surprised by his words but it still makes you feel nice when you hear it. Suddenly you have a good idea so you stand up and push Jihoon back into his studio chair. You crawl onto his lap, straddling his thighs.

“Y/N, what are you-”

“Shhh, I just wanna make you feel good. You’ve been working so hard, you deserve a treat. Don’t you think, Woozi?” He shudders as his producer name falls off your lips.

“I’ve been the one neglecting you though, I should be the one treating you,” he tries to fight back but you only let out a tut.

“So you don’t want me to take care of you?” You reach down between your bodies and palm at his already half hard cock. He lets out a high pitched whine as his hips cant up. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

You lean down and Jihoon tries to meet your lips but you grab his hair and pull his head to the side. You pull his shirt collar to the side and attach your lips to his shoulder. You suck at the bare skin and Jihoon is already trembling under you. His hands reach down to grab at your plump ass. He kneads the soft fat in his hands and hums in satisfaction, he missed this. 

His hips are grinding up into you and before he can help it he’s making small keening noises. You pull your mouth off his shoulder and grab his face gently and connect your lips. You kiss him slowly and sweetly, savoring the taste of him after being apart for so long.

Much too soon for Jihoon’s liking you’re pulling away again. He’s about to beg you to kiss him again but you press your finger up to his lips. “Shh, you have to be quiet, baby. You don’t want anyone hearing right?”

Jihoon then remembers that not only are all of his roommates home, but your roommate is also still over. His studio is soundproofed but he knows that it only goes so far so he only nods and you kiss his forehead, cooing at what a good boy he is.

You slide off his lap and onto the floor, kneeling between his legs. You bring your hand up to palm at his crotch again. You can feel he’s fully hard now and straining against his boxers and sweats.

His hips buck up at the touch and you practically purr. “Yeah baby, gonna make you feel so good. Grind against my hand.” His hands are tightly gripping onto his chair as his hips continue to thrust up, trying to find any kind of friction.

After a few more thrusts you’re pulling your hand away. You bring your hands up to Jihoon’s waist and run your finger across his stomach before hooking a finger around the waistband of his sweats and pulling them down. Jihoon lifts his hips up to allow the fabric to fall down around his ankles.

You can see his dick straining even harder now and you lean down to press a kiss against the clothed length. Jihoon’s hips push up into your face and you use your hands to shove his thighs back down.

“Hey, play nice Ji,” you scold the boy.

“Sorry,” Jihoon mutters out. His face is flushed and he keeps squirming around in his chair. You tut at him but still tug his boxers down his legs, his leaking cock springing out. It stands up against his stomach and the sight makes your mouth water.

Jihoon has the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen. You’re not just saying that because you’re biased, it really is the prettiest dick you’ve seen. It’s thick and long, but not too long. His tip is a nice pink color and he has a thick vein that runs along his whole length. His has a slight curve up that helps him hit your g-spot in just the right way.

The short boy is whimpering above you, begging you to suck him off, but you don’t pay him much mind as you run your thumb over his tip, spreading pre-cum across his dick.

You wrap your hand around Jihoon's thick cock and pump slowly as you bend down to suck a hickey into his hip bone. Jihoon is quietly whimpering above you as you do, trying his best not to thrust up into your hands.

Once the mark is deep enough to your liking, you lean forward and lick a stripe against the vein and Jihoon is biting down on his lip so he doesn’t make too much noise. You kiss up and down his length, teasing him.

Jihoon thinks he’s about to go crazy when you finally slide his dick into your mouth. You bob your head up and down before pulling all the way off. You stick your tongue out and swirl it around the tip of Jihoon’s cock. Your lips tenderly wrap around the tip of his cock as you start to suck on the head. Your hands grip at the base of his cock, pumping a bit as you play with his tip. You don’t break eye contact with Jihoon as you do and you can see the pleading in his eyes, begging you to do more.

You comply with his wishes and take all of him in your mouth again, deep throating his dick. You have experience swallowing Jihoon’s dick down your throat and it’s almost comforting as you move your mouth up and down.

Your hands are resting against his hips so he can’t fuck into you. Jihoon’s hands stay gripping the seat, knowing you’ll get mad if he shoves your head down. You speed up your pace and Jihoon swears you’re going even deeper now, even though he didn’t think it was possible.

He can feel his balls tightening and he’s about to cum when all of a sudden you’re pulling your lips off his cock and sitting back. Jihoon whimpers and tries to grab at you but you only bat his hands away.

You stand up and pull down the boxers that Jihoon leant you. Jihoon can see the way your pussy glistens with arousal and he gulps thickly. He wants to fuck you so badly, he’d go nice and slow, making up for the time you guys lost while he holed himself up. Instead though, you’re moving away from him to sit on the couch.

“Don’t touch yourself Ji, okay? Be a good boy for me and I’ll reward you.” You look into his eyes and he only nods.

He’s practically drooling as he watches you lean back against the couch cushions and spread your legs open. He licks his lips as you bring your fingers down to play with your clit, slowly rubbing circles into the sensitive bud. You’re spreading your slick around, making your pussy look even more tantalizing.

Jihoon’s hips buck up involuntarily and you chuckle a bit at him, muttering at how needy he is. Then you’re moving your fingers down and inserting two into your pussy right away. It’s your turn now to bite your lip to keep yourself from moaning out.

You feel your cunt clench against your own fingers as you thrust your fingers in and out. Your eyes are trained to Jihoon, whose eyes are trained on your pussy.

Jihoon knows you’re supposed to be treating him, but this feels like torture. Part of him wonders if he deserves it for neglecting you. You continue your actions for a little bit more before you’re standing up. Jihoon doesn’t take his eyes off of you as you saunter up to him and stick your fingers out towards his mouth.

Eagerly Jihoon takes your fingers in his mouth, sucking them clean. He even grabs your hand with his own so you can’t pull them away. When Jihoon has gotten his fill he pulls your fingers out of his mouth with a pop.

“Good boy,” you coo and Jihoon melts. “I’m gonna ride your cock and then you can cum inside of me, got it?” Jihoon is nodding so hard you think his head might fall off.

You climb back onto his lap and hover over his dick as you line yourself up. You think about teasing him even more, but you’re both a little too needy and depraved to follow through. You sink down onto his cock and you both let out low, breathy moans at the feeling.

You don’t move at first, letting yourself adjust. You lean down to bring your mouth to Jihoon’s and you kiss passionately as you start to move your hips up and down. Jihoon’s hands move down to grab at your ass again and he helps guide your body as you ride his cock.

Your kiss isn’t aggressive but it is forceful as you guys are desperate to taste each other after over a week of not having sex. You roll your hips at a rhythmic pace that drives Jihoon insane but he knows better than to take control.

He reaches down and in one swift motion he pulls his sweater off your form, leaving you completely naked. You tug at his shirt as well so it’s only fair and when the article of clothing falls to the ground you are both left bare. You lean back, bracing yourself on his knees, as you bounce on his cock. Jihoon’s hands are splayed against your stomach, watching as his dick leaves a small bulge in your tummy.

Jihoon licks his lips as he watches the way your tits bounce in front of his face. He can’t help himself as he leans forward to take one in his mouth, his tongue tracing around your hard nipple. One of his hands moves to your back to support you and push your body into his more.

You grab onto Jihoon’s shoulders and dig your fingers into the warm flesh. You can feel your orgasm already approaching and you hope Jihoon’s is too.

Your breathing is labored as you struggle to speak. “Ji, are you close?”

“So close bunny,” Jihoon mumbles back, his voice muffled due to his mouth being pressed against your skin. After he answers his mouth goes right back to attacking your tits, biting at the soft fat on your chest.

“Then please fill me up,” you whine lowly.

“Anything for you baby.” The pads of his fingers are finding your clit and he starts rubbing quick, messy circles into the bud.

You pull his face up and smash your lip into his so you don’t scream out as you fall apart, your pussy convulsing and gushing all over Jihoon’s lap. He’s not far behind as your tight walls milk his cock and he’s spilling his cum deep into you.

You have to catch your breath as you collapse into Jihoon. He wraps his arms around you and presses soft kisses into your shoulder.

Part of you knows that you should clean up, but the other part of you wants to stay here in Jihoon’s arms, his cock buried into your wet heat. Jihoon is smarter than you though, and he’s gently lifting you off his lap. Your legs tremble a bit as you stand and you have to grab onto his shoulders again for support.

“Now how do we get cleaned up without the guys noticing,” Jihoon wonders out loud. You groan, you totally forgot about clean up when you decided to seduce Jihoon.

He grabs a towel that lays next to his desk and starts to wipe down his lap and desk chair. The only reason the towel is even there is because he also missed you while working on his new song and may or may not have jerked off multiple times thinking about you while hiding in his studio.

There were times when you guys would get busy and couldn’t find the time to see each other in person but would still be free enough to either call or text each other. This left Jihoon with a multitude of lewd images from you saved to his phone that he doesn’t mind pulling up to jerk off to.

You reach for your phone to see a text from Sana.

Sana: Jun, Soon, and I went to get lunch. I think Wonwoo is gaming so he won’t hear if you guys wanna get frisky ;)

“I don’t think anyone’s home,” you say after reading the text. “Except Woo, but he’s gaming.”

Jihoon sighs in relief. He tugs his sweats back on and tells you he’ll be back soon. You nod and sit down on the couch and hope that none of Jihoon’s cum slides out of you and onto the couch.

Like he promised, Jihoon is back within a few minutes with water, clean clothes, and wet rags. He cleans you up and then thoroughly cleans up his desk chair.

The clothes Jihoon brings you are a pair of your panties that you know he definitely stole at some point, a pair of his shorts, and a t-shirt. You pull them on as Jihoon grabs the dirty clothes and throws them into the washing machine.

When he walks back into his studio you’re laying on the couch, your head resting on the arm rest. Jihoon crawls on top of you, settling in between your legs. His face moves down to kiss at your face and you giggle and wrap your limbs around him, pulling him closer to you.

“Never leave me alone like that again, okay? I missed you,” you mumble to him. Jihoon only nods and kisses you again.

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[wildbornsiren]

Coffee and Wintergreen || Jake "Hangman" Seresin/Javy "Coyote" Machado

Wintergreen and Coffee. Summary: Talking about leave leads to other possibilities. 719 words Jake 'Hangman' Seresin/Javy 'Coyote' Machado [Slash] Warning: kissing. Awkward boys. Notes: Takes place before the mission, sometime while they're stationed together. Thank you to the ever lovely @writercole for poking me about this. Comments and sharing fuel my writing, likes are appreciated. Thank you so much for reading, it is so appreciated and means the most. **Tag list is done. Please follow and turn on notifs for @wbslibrary **

Jake plops onto the leather couch, wincing as it groans in protest. The sofa was older than both of them, but it was well loved. Many people had sat on this couch, had conversations, slept, read, wept, God knows many times fluids had been exchanged on the damn thing. Javy looks up from the magazine on his lap, bumping his shoulder against Jake’s. “Going home for the break?” Jake asks. Javy’s grin is wide and easy, contagious. “Yeah, grandmomma’s already told me she’s making gumbo.” He says, “Etouffee, jambalaya and the whole kit.”

“You sure I can’t come home with you?” “I’ve told you man, there’s always a spot at the table for you. Grandmomma loves you—almost as much as she loves me, and she don’t love nobody.” “I’m catnip for grandmommas and mommas.” Jake grins. “It’s a heavy burden, but one all Seresin men carry.” “You’re so full of shit.” Javy laughs, his face lighting up even more as his shoulders shake, leaning heavily against Jake. There’s a spark under his skin from where his and Javy’s body connects, and once more he tries, he tries so hard to shove that back down, back into the proper hiding places. “I also know your momma’s fixing up a right spread for you too.” “She does. She’s also been blowing my phone up with all sorts of details about the party she’s throwing.” Jake says, settling back against the couch more. Javy’s arm is slung against the back, and it brings him closer to Javy’s body. Jake takes a steadying breath. Another mistake. Javy smells like cedarwood and orange, and if Jake closes his eyes, he can almost taste the orange on his tongue from Javy’s cologne. He can feel the warm vibration in the other man’s chest when Javy says his name. Jake blinks, realizing he’s been staring at Javy’s profile for the last five minutes. “You alright?” “Yeah, just thinkin’ I’m gonna miss you.” Javy chuckles, head tipping back against the couch. “Jake, it’s a couple weeks of leave. Then we’ll be shipped out somewhere, and you’ll be tired of me.” “I can’t get tired of you Machado.” Jake says. “You’re my best friend man.” There’s a twinge in his chest when he says that last bit. A small part of him, the one that he keeps buried in the dark, deep down inside dies a little bit at the title of friend. He can’t, he won’t. There’s too much riding on a very thin line. A thin line that’s becoming harder and harder not to cross. “Jake,” Javy’s voice curls against his ear. He swallows hard, turning to see Javy only millimeters away from him. Jake’s heart is in his throat, there’s a dull roaring his ears, an ache in his chest. There’s a warmth on his skin, Javy’s hand on his cheek, fingers bringing Jake closer, the distance closing between them in what feels like eons. The first brush of lips against his, isn’t enough. “Please,” Jake whispers. “Like you mean it Javy, if you mean it.” Javy’s fingers slide into Jake’s hair, a soft sigh emanating from one, both, who knows. There’s thirty seconds of a clock ticking away desperately, Javy’s mouth slotting over Jake’s. No more hesitation, nothing but the feeling of Javy’s lips against his. He tastes like stale coffee and wintergreen gum, and it’s a combination that Jake knows he’s going to crave for months to come. The worn leather of the couch squeaks, when Javy leans over him, their chests crushed together. Jake’s hands frame Javy’s face, tongue swiping against Javy’s lower lip, a soft sound coming from him when he’s granted access to Javy’s mouth. “Tell you what,” Javy murmurs. Calloused thumb brushing over Jake’s lower lip. They’re both panting, Jake knows he’s flushed, a bit starry eyed. “You go home for the first week, let your momma fuss over you. Then you come see me.” “So, your grandmomma can fuss over me?” Jake asks, smile easy and playful. “That, and so I can fuss over you proper like.” “I’d like that.” Jake says. “I’d definitely like that.” Javy’s lips are warm and soft when they press against Jake’s cheek. “I’ll make sure that grandmomma knows the white boy from Texas is coming. She does love to feed you.” /end