#Not the best writing I could’ve done either

[astrasng]

SCRATCH || BANGCHAN

MINORS DNI!

pairing: idol!chan x female!reader

summary: thanks to chan's solo stage you finally made him yours.

warnings: blood (from scratches obv), handjob, spanking, petnames (baby, honey, angel, sweetheart) unprotected sex, cursing

author's note: from my previous breakdown post bc of chan got me in an inspired mood so i made a little somethin somethin. still what the fuck was he thinking. also, if you're a regular reader by any chance (ily) you might have noticed i write jealousy tropes, IDKK WHY THO SORRY

important!: this is pure fiction, the act in this story is by my imagination and not based off true events. please do not copy the work.

enjoy!

It isn’t like you’re not supportive of your boyfriend. You’ve always been there for every idea, even if you thought that it wasn’t the best one. The things you have to deal with him being an idol settled deep into your mind, already accepting the consequences that may come in the way. But it’s not like you would ever give up your relationship with Chan just because he’s doing risky things that you may not like. 

To be honest, it kind of became an advantage for you. 

You would watch him having fun on stage with the other members, sometimes splashing water at each other, making everyone in the crowd either cheer or laugh at their silly behavior. There were times when they got sentimental, wishing all the happiness for STAY and the members for the future. It made you emotional just in the same way as you would watch them through the TV in your shared apartment. 

And then there were times where you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together and wait for him.

“Had fun today?” 

The sarcastic tone caught Chan’s attention as he’s doing his everyday night routine, just as he’s finishing up his shaving session. He knows exactly why you’re talking and reacting to him this way, you’ve been all fidgety with him since he got home from the first day of the tour, and when he stepped inside the apartment he saw you still sitting on the couch, not welcoming him in with the usual hug he gets. 

Chan looks a little bit to the side so he can get a reflection of you changing in the room, the towel you used laying on the ground after taking a shower. Without him. 

“Of course.It’s always heartwarming to meet with STAY’s. And the kids were so hyped about getting solo stages too.”

Now that just boils your blood. 

“Oh, were they?” You keep your back facing him,not letting him see how frustrated you really are about the game he’s playing. “They were doing an amazing job indeed.” You shut your eyes momentarily before putting on your velvet nightgown, and slowly walking towards the bathroom where your boyfriend is staying. 

“Yeah, I assume you saw mine too, right? Did you see the special makeup they did on me?” With pride he chuckles while putting away his shaving equipment, patting his dry as he picks up his toothbrush. His question should have a very easy and simple answer, yet here you are ready to give him a brainwash about not caring about your mental health. Cause what the hell was that? You can’t even form the offensive words you want to say to him out of frustration, you could never say anything negative about his performances in general — but the way he’s talking about it, so full of himself, you can’t help yourself. “I wonder who made all that.” It slips out, biting down on your lip softly to stop yourself from further embarrassment. 

“It must’ve been the makeup artist of course, but I could’ve done a better job if you ask me.” You step into the bathroom just as you finish your sentence, Chan unable to answer due to his mouth full with mint scented bubbles. 

As you want to pass behind him, you swipe your delicate fingers on his defined back muscles, the photos of him painted in scratches for the performance fills your vision. 

“Makeup was unnecessary,to be honest.” 

There’s something glinting in Chan’s eyes as a lopsided smile appears on his face, looking at you through the mirror placed above the bathroom counter. As the words leave your lips, he licks his plump lips slowly, putting away his toothbrush he just used. “If I had asked you, would you do it?” 

The air stops suddenly in your throat,taking your eyes off of him as you busy yourself with something else infront of you. “Well…it doesn’t matter now.” 

“Oh it does, honey.” Chan says lowly, his voice suddenly closer as you want it to, and you know perfectly he’s only a step away from you. “If I only knew my baby just wanted to help me out in my solo,” He snakes his arms around your waist slowly, his bare chest pressing into your clothed back as he’s standing behind you, whispering in your ear. “I could’ve used some help.” With that, he pressed a slow open mouth kiss on the side of your neck. his hands caressing the skin on your stomach. 

“Should we recreate it and show it to my makeup artist?”

Chan whispers against your ear, biting down slightly on your earlobe as he makes eye contact with you through the mirror. You look already disheveled just from his touch, your nightgown scrunched slightly up as he kneads your stomach, one of his hands slowly inching up to your breasts. “Would you like that, baby?” 

“I didn’t mean it like that, Chan – mhphm…” A small moan leaves your lips as he pinches your nipple in his slender fingers, continuing to make out with your neck as you try and compose yourself. 

“How did you mean it then?” He grunts out as you push your backside on his crotch, his cock twitching already in his sleeping pants at the thought of you being jealous. “Tell me.” 

“I–I just…” You try to form words, keeping yourself together and not yet falling for his words but then Chan sneakily slides his other down towards your waiting heat, his finger immediately meeting with slickness between your pussy lips. He groans again, grinding into your ass to ease the pain from being so hard. “Baby, if you want to scratch my back that badly just say it.” There’s something hiding behind his words which makes you shut your eyes from the pleasure he’s causing, your hands flying on the counter for support. “I kind of…wanted to..” Your breath hitches, cutting off your sentence when Chan flips your nightgown upwards to expose your wet pussy, your naked ass on display in front of him as he takes his hand away from your breast and caresses one of your cheeks. “You wanted what? Do you need some help darling?” He grunts under his breath when he feels you clench around his fingers, plugging it in and out to take your breath away. You moan out when you feel his fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot that makes your back arch. 

But Chan doesn’t give in that easily. 

You suddenly feel a stinging pain on one of your cheeks, moaning out shamelessly from the sensation he just caused with his hand. When you pick your head up you see Chan already looking at you through the mirror, lust filled eyes raking over your already fucked out face. “Say it baby.” 

You can feel his hand smoothing over the place he just spanked, the air in the bathroom so humid you can feel yourself getting sweaty again. His finger never stopped working inside you, with that spank almost knocking you over the edge. 

When Chan doesn’t see you changing your mind and aófinally answers him, he only clicks his tongue and tilts his head to the side. Without a second thought, he slaps your ass again, his finger circling around your clit rapidly when he hears your pornographic moans echoing in the bathroom.

“I–I wanted to mark you!” 

And there it is. 

As you practically moan out the words, Chan’s finger is coated thickly with your cum as his words made you tip over the edge. Your whole body shaking in his arms as you come down your high slowly, trying to gather your thoughts and realizing what you just said.

When the words finally leave your mouth he can’t help but smirk, the possessive side of you finally showing for the first time in your relationship. “And why is that honey?” Chan teases you, seeing your ears red from the sudden confession you just made. 

“Just so everyone knows that you’re mine..” You mumble quietly, shame overcoming you as it paints your cheeks deep red. 

Something snaps inside Chan. He can’t help but groan out, his cock painfully hard against his pants as he turns you around and places his hands on your throat, slightly adding pressure on it. Before you know it, you’re pressed up against the wall, his lips already chasing yours. 

“Do it baby.” He kisses you, his tongue sneaks through his lips to taste your lip balm you applied earlier he loves so much. “I want you to do your worst on me,” He whispers between kisses, his hand suddenly picking you up to put your legs around his waist. Your whole body welcomes him, your mouth opens as he slides his tongue inside once again, and your fingers landing into his freshly washed hair as he devours your lips. His hand scrunches up your gown once again before he presses his hardness into your slick core. 

At the contact you moan out loudly, already wanting him inside you, to ease your pain that he caused. 

“Feel that baby? It’s all yours. Nobody else has that but you.” 

With a whine you throw your head on the wall, Chan’s lips continuing to leaves red splotches on your sensitive skin as he takes his hand and pushes down his boxers, hissing out the minute the air hits his precum covered cock, tip red from all the waiting and veins bulging with excitement. 

He drags his wet tip over your puffy lips, spreading them open more to make room for himself when he circles around your clit. As he slides his length between your folds, you feel all emotions gather up inside you, the feeling too hazy as your vision becomes blurry from the need. “Channie,,please..” 

“‘s okay baby,I’ll give it to you.” He chants when he finally pushes his tip inside you, groaning out from you uncontrollably clenching around his cock when he nearly settles halfway in. “You have to relax,angel. You make it impossible for me to–”

“Chan — I’m so sorry, I–” He hears you gasp out, your body all tensed up, your eyes wide open as you look into the mirror across you. He looks swiftly behind him to see your naked bodies melted into one, and then it catches his eye. 

With one thrust he settles fully inside you, moaning from how incredibly tight you are around his length, keeping himself back to not buckle into you rapidly. He puts his hand on your chin, making you look into his eyes and not on his blood covered back. “I asked you to do this, right?” With a softened gaze, he makes sure you understand what he’s saying, not taking his eyes off of you until he sees your lust filled expression again instead of worry ones. “Right baby?”

“Y-yes..” You gulp when you see your fingers slightly covered in red around his neck. “But I didn’t want to-”

“It’s fucking hot.” He hisses, his voice whinier than usual as he puts his forehead on your chest, his hips starting to move. “You did such a great job sweetheart.” He pulls completely out before thrusting into you again, this time harsher as he hears your cries next to his ears. 

When you take another look in the mirror, you see what you just caused. The moment you felt his cock hitting you so deeply you couldn't help but deepen your nails into his skin on his broad back, now covered with blood here and there. It softly dribbles down his defined muscles, and Chan is right. It is fucking hot. 

So you clench around him again when you feel his fingers circling around your clit, his cock hitting the perfect spot as he moans out your name. “Do it again.” He demands, his hand flying on the wall next to your head to thrust up harder into you, making you roll your eyes. As you see Chan so deeply in emotions you scratch his back again, now only deep redness showing on his pale skin. 

The pain on his skin makes him inch closer to his release. The jerks of his hips, slamming against your hips are quickening, becoming more erratic, intense and desperate. You cry out his name nonstop, feeling him twitching inside you. 

“Give it to me.” He’s breathless as he chants into the side of your neck. “I need you to come around my cock baby.” 

His demand tips you over the edge again, moaning out his name as you feel him curl against you, his shoulders on display for you to see what you painted on his back. His grunts are vibrating through your body, the pain melting into pleasure as he paints your insides with his thick cum, feeling so full of him, feeling him everywhere. Chan bites down softly on your skin,kissing the pain away quickly as you both come down from this high. 

You are his. He made sure a long time ago, but now, you made sure he was yours too as you watch the crimson red blood slowly sliding down his back, gathering it on your fingers.

“It took a solo stage for you to claim me as yours?” Chan asks when he softly puts you down on the bathroom counter, a bright smile painting his face once again.

like and reblog is much appreciated! ♡

divider by:@enchanthings

[kazumist]

DISTANCE MAKES THE HEART GROW FONDER .ᐟ

✩ — or in which they terribly miss you. (implied long distance relationship)

✩ — includes: wriothesley, neuvillette, alhaitham, lyney, and cyno x gn!traveler!reader. fluff. no cws. wc: 415. reblogs are very much appreciated !!

✩ — note: currently suffering from stage four misskonasiyagitis. send help. i wanted to try out writing multiple characters again so here we go, kinda 50 50 w this one tbh

it physically hurts wriothesley to be this far from you. i mean, come on. seriously? commissions in sumeru? sometimes he doesn’t know whether he should hate the fact that you’re willing to take commissions in different regions or admire it. he misses you so goddamn much—it would’ve been fine if you took commissions on fontaine! he rarely goes up to the surface but at least he would’ve caught a glimpse of you every now and then. but nope, wriothesley guesses that he just has to wait.

neuvillette was unfamiliar with the feeling of missing someone. well, that was before he got together with you, at least. but now he’s definitely familiar with it (way too familiar, in fact). he misses you dearly—he misses your spontaneous visits to his office, he misses the lingering warmth of your hand in his. he tries his best to hold his emotions back, not wanting to cause fontaine a random downpour, all because he missed his beloved.

a rare event to see alhaitham lose his composure. recently, kaveh has noticed his roommate space out more often, always blanking out randomly. kaveh wonders what caused his roommate’s current state (not that he actually cares; he was just curious). that was until alhaitham asked him a question. “what can one do when they’re craving the presence of someone who can’t be present at the moment?” oh, so that’s why.

lyney tends to connect his recent shows with things that remind him of you; it kind of makes lynette sick to see her brother in this state. rainbow roses, fontainian pastries, anything that makes lyney think of you. not only that, lyney wouldn’t shut up about you either! lynette cringes, freminet feels bad for her. “aren’t rainbow roses a bit overused at this point?” she asks lyney. he replies with a simple, “rainbow roses could never be overused, dear sister!” lynette could only pray that you return soon.

cyno tends to crack even worse jokes. is that even possible? tighnari has no clue. “did you know what the triangle said to the circle? ‘you’re pointless.’ get it?” cyno tells yet another joke. tighnari facepalms at this point—why must he be the one who endures his friend’s awful jokes in your absence? he doesn’t recall signing up for this at all! “you could’ve pretended to laugh at it. (name) would’ve done so if they were here.” cyno pouts. tighnari sighs in defeat. this is going to be another long day for him, isn’t it?

[sodacowboy]

I think it’s funny that I usually Strongly Dislike childhood friends to lovers most of the time and yet that’s exactly what Sol & Lazul are

[notmyneighbor]

Special Delivery - Doppelganger Francis Mosses x Female Reader

Word Count - 3.3k

Rating - Explicit

CW - masturbation, oral sex

Also available on AO3

You’re being followed.

You’re out later than you’d intended, but there had been a lot of requests that day. Word was spreading. You were getting quite the reputation among the doppelgängers.

Imagine, a human who was betraying her own kind, making forged documents to help the invaders into DDD restricted areas.

You don’t even feel guilty about it, either, because what has any human ever done for you? You’ve been on your own since as far back as you can remember, dealt a bad hand early in life. This scheme you’ve concocted pays well. Better than any of the other less savory things you’ve had to do to supplement your income, and it came with an added bonus: you knew how to write in the alien’s language as well, the symbols you inscribe on the frame of your apartment door and workspaces guaranteeing you’ll be exempt from harm.

Maybe you could’ve done something with your artistic and linguist skills if you’d had the opportunity, but alas, this was your lot in life. Making the best of a less than ideal situation.

You deviate your course a few times, just to make certain you’re still being pursued. Yes, he’s still trailing you. You’re certain it’s male but you’re not pausing long enough to discern more than that. Well, fuck.

You take another detour. Perhaps not the best decision in hindsight. You’re further away from home now. You don’t recognize the street you’re on. There’s a delivery truck parked on the side of the road. Dairy. Should you try to hide inside? The door was open. Where was the driver? You consider your options. No one would admit you into their house at this hour, and why should they, when you’ve been selling out all your neighbors? The truck, then. Your stalker’s footsteps still sounded a fair distance away. It was your only chance at this point. Maybe you could find something to mark the symbols. If there was still time.

The step to enter the truck is high. You have to ungraciously hoist yourself inside, clinging desperately to the sides to balance your weight. Made it. Your nose wrinkles. There’s a faintly sour smell. Spoiled products. The keys are in the ignition. A feeling of foreboding washes over you. The street lamp nearby barely illuminates the interior of the vehicle. You’re afraid to go into the back. You can’t see anything you can use to write the protection phrase. Your breath saws in and out. Too loud. You’re making too much noise.

A foot on the steel step makes you whirl around. It’s your pursuer. Dressed as a milkman, but you know instantly it’s not. Replicant. Deceiver. The clone of whatever human he’s copying. He’d chosen a handsome one, though you doubt it had anything to do with appearances, more a matter of convenience. Broad shouldered. Narrow waisted. He lifts himself into the truck with practiced ease. You’re so fucked.

Dark eyes and hair. Pale skin. He blocks the light from outside as he crowds you further inside. Well, you couldn’t say you’d had a good run, but you’d done your best. You close your eyes. You don’t want to see the teeth emerge before he devours you.

“What are you doing in here?”

Your eyes fly open again. He hasn’t advanced any further. He wanted to talk? Play with his food before he ate it? Maybe he wasn’t hungry. Mabe you could talk your way out of this.

“I…I got lost on the way home.”

“You’re lying.” No malice behind those words, just an observation.

“I heard you following me. I know what you are,” you admit, then instantly regret it. Stupid girl.

“I know who you are, too. You’re the one who makes the ID’s and entry requests.”

“Business hours are Monday through Friday, 8am to 5pm.” Were you seriously being flippant with a doppelgänger? You give a little chuckle to show you’re joking around, but the noise sounds more like a dying hyena, slightly panicked and hysterical.

“Those hours don’t work for me.”

“Oh.” So he was a prospective customer then? “Cash up front, half in advance, the rest on delivery. Currently working this week behind the abandoned grocery store off of Burke Street. I have to rotate the site to, you know…”

“I’ll pay extra,” he adds. “For the inconvenience of the hour and short notice.”

You lick your lips at the prospect of making additional funds. What would be fair to charge? “You need it right now? What’s the hurry?”

“Are you able to do it or not?” This now laced with irritation. His patience and good graces were wearing thin already. Best not to ire him further. You’re lucky to still be alive.

“Yeah, I can do it.”

“I’ll drive us there, then.”

“Where am I supposed to sit?” You glance around the front of the cabin. There’s only one seat for the driver.

You see his shoulders raise and lower in a shrug before he sits behind the wheel. You suppose your only choice is to sit on the floor.

“Your truck reeks,” you say, that sour smell assaulting your nostrils again as you lower yourself down.

The engine rumbles to life. “Deliveries didn’t get made today.”

“Did you…” You’re wondering what happened to the original, human operator of the vehicle. Had he suffered some grim fate? Were his remains sitting in the doppelgänger’s gut, being digested at this very moment? You shudder at the unpleasant thought.

He glances down at you. “No. I simply duplicated his form and stole the truck. You humans leave your body substances everywhere,” he says, lifting the cap off his head and tossing it onto the dashboard. “This one perspired all over that.”

That was all it took for a doppel to replicate a human. Just a little bit of something from the original. Sweat. Blood. Mucus. Probably other, even more unsavory substances, too.

It’s uncomfortable on the floor. The truck’s suspension jostles you roughly. Luckily you don’t have far to go. The driver eases behind the abandoned brick building, shutting off the headlamps. There are no functioning street lights in this part of town. You’re shrouded in darkness.

The doppel stands and you struggle to your feet, reluctantly accepting the hand he offers you to assist you to your feet. You’ve never touched one of the invaders directly before. It feels normal. Just like a human. You’re not sure if that makes it better or worse.

You’ve been working out of the manager’s office in the rear of the store. You’ve got an actual set of keys, pilfered once you’d broken into the building. Another of your talents, that. Breaking and entering. An additional skill this unfair life has made you adept at.

You’re not used to being here so late. It’s amazing no one’s realized the building is still on the electrical grid. You’re grateful for the mistake, switching on the light in the back hallway after feeling blindly for the switch. The doppel is just behind you. You unlock the office door and hit another light switch, sighing in relief. That was better. Familiar territory. No longer in darkness.

But there’s an anxious invader at your back, and that knowledge is less than comforting. You sit down in the office chair behind the steel desk and he settles into the hardbacked one across from you.

“So, um…about the fee.”

Without a word the alien digs into his pants pocket, extracting several bills from a wallet and sliding them over to you. “Will that be sufficient?”

You’re trying to keep a straight face. Where did he get this much money? “Yes, that’s fine. Do you…do you have a home address for the individual?”

Delving back into the wallet, he now produces a car registration. Francis Mosses. You recognize the area he resides in. A better part of town than the one you’re living in, but maybe someday you could change that.

Although, you’re about to make that area a lot less safe, you think, pulling the necessary tools out of the large bottom desk drawer, including a DDD logo stamp. That had been the hardest item to acquire. The rest were fairly routine.

“I need to take a picture. Do you just want to get that over with now?” He nods. “Can you stand in front of the door? It’s a good blank background.” Another nod as you stand. He closes the office door and positions himself, waiting for you to snap the Polaroid. Damn, he really is attractive. Exactly your type. You don’t even mind the little bend at the bridge of his nose or the shadows under his eyes. You take several pictures, one for the ID card and one for the entry request, with some extras just for…well, maybe just to have options if the others didn’t turn out well.

You’re not used to being watched while you work.

You typically have the doppels come back to pick the forgeries up later. These dark eyes watch your every movement like a hawk, from the way you print onto the request form to the drag of the scalpel blade around two of the photographs(they had all come out fine), carefully affixing them to both documents. You roll the stamp in the black ink pad and press it gently but firmly into each corner, waving a hand over the fresh ink to help it dry.

“You’re skilled at this,” he murmurs appreciatively, and your head lifts to meet his gaze. “I see why you come so highly recommended.”

“It’s not like there’s any competition,” you say, feeling a flush creep into your cheeks over the praise.

“True. Not many humans would betray their own kind, would they?”

Your lips press into a thin line of displeasure. You didn’t need the reminder. Was he mocking you?

“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sure you have your reasons.”

Somewhat mollified, you glance down at your work. It still looked a little moist. You need it to be completely dry before you apply the lamination to seal it in permanently.

The copycat is still staring at you. You, not the documents you’re working on. You clear your throat. “I want to make sure they’ve dried properly.”

“Of course.”

“It’ll just be a few minutes.”

“I don’t mind the wait.”

You lean back and the swivel chair creaks. Your shoulders are aching. You’d made a lot of forgeries today. Too much time spent hunched over the desk. Your eyes are a little sore, too, dry and burning. You needed a bath and maybe a snack and bed. Forget dinner. That sounded too complicated at this hour.

“You’re tired,” he observes.

“It’s been a long day.”

“I am inconveniencing you greatly, aren’t I?”

He doesn’t sound remorseful, exactly. You don’t know what he sounds like. It’s too difficult to process. You’re exhausted, that post adrenaline rush from earlier really depleting the last stores of energy. You don’t even think you’d protest if he decided to turn on you right now, taking the goods and making a meal out of you before he ran. The symbols are more of a professional courtesy than anything. It’s not like it actually prevented the doppels from physically being able to attack.

The legs of the chair he’s seated in drag across the dirty linoleum flooring, making a loud scraping sound. You watch warily as he comes around the desk, easing past a filing cabinet to reach your side.

“We haven’t really negotiated the full price yet, have we?”

Oh. Was that what was happening? He was going to stiff you. Suddenly that advance amount no longer seemed so generous. That was to be your total payment. Honestly, you should have been more demanding.

“I have more money,” he says, immediately canceling out your previous assumption, “but I don’t think that’s what you need most right now.”

“You’re right. I should be at home in the bathtub. Or better yet bed,” you add.

His hand reaches for the edge of the chair, turning you fully to face him. The abrupt movement catches you by surprise.

“Maybe what you really need is some good old fashioned milk.” His hand closes over your wrist, dragging your hand towards what you’ve somehow missed previously. He’s hard. Like full on, bulging, fit to burst out of his trousers. You should be terrified. You are scared, kind of. But turned on. Stupidly aroused because you haven’t had anyone give you this kind of attention in who knows how long. Sex had just kind of fallen by the wayside for you. There was so much else that needed to be accounted for.

You watch the hand pulling the leather strap of the imposter milkman’s belt in wonder, as if you can’t quite reconcile it’s your own doing this. Its partner joining, thumbing the button of the fly through the slot and parting the metal teeth below into a wicked grin. You shove the waistband of his briefs down and his cock springs free, flushed and thick and oozing precum. You stare at that clear bead of fluid as if hypnotized. Your mouth waters. You want it. You want to suck this creature dry.

Your tongue swipes over the crown of his erection and the doppel hums in pleasure. “Good girl,” he says encouragingly, and the praise sends heat right between your legs, your pussy tingling in response. You’re no longer thinking about your unfinished work on the desk beside you, about how dangerous it is to be alone with a doppelgänger in an abandoned building at night. You’re instead wondering how much of that dark pink length you’re going to be able to voluntarily sample before your gag reflex interrupts and he’s forced to fuck into your throat manually. Your sex throbs again. Time to stop wondering and find out.

Your lips close over the head and begin sliding over the shaft. Clean musk. A better flavor than perhaps you’d anticipated. You take a few experimental bobs, testing. He’s stretching you already. Your lips. The fat head bumping your cheeks, your soft palate. His fingers are in your hair, combing through the tresses with a strange kind of tenderness.

“So good. You’re so talented…”

You whimper a little, trying to reach more of him. There it is. That natural barrier of your body’s resistance. You struggle against it until you’re forced to withdraw, coughing and gasping, leaving a trail of thick saliva behind. You give yourself a brief respite, stroking the slick fluids over his prick. It makes a lewd squelching sound every time you massage the shaft. You can feel your arousal leaking between your legs, saturating your panties. You reach under your skirt, no longer caring about how depraved you appear. It’s a relief when your fingers make contact with your clit, dragging that wetness around the nub in frantic circles.

“That’s a good girl. Touch that pussy. It feels good, doesn’t it? So good…”

Your mouth engulfs his cock again. You roll your lips inward and massage the length in short bursts. Now relaxing and planting soft, passionate kisses on the tip. You spit on it and slurp up the liquid noisily. You like the sounds the doppel is making. You’ve never liked the men who were quiet, reserved. This invader isn’t holding back. He moans and groans and hisses. His teeth catch his bottom lip. His head tips back when the ecstasy of the blow job gets to be a bit overwhelming. And you love every minute of it. You savor every sound and gesture as you perform the obscene act while masturbating, grinding your swollen bundle of nerve endings against your pubic bone.

“You’re hungry, honey, aren’t you? Starving. I’ve got what you need, darling.” The nails of the hand you have curled around his hip dig into the cotton and polyester blended fabric of his uniform pants as you push yourself even further down his length, this time bruising your throat. You ignore the discomfort, grateful when the hand in your hair finally tightens and you feel him begin to fuck your mouth, battering the rear of that moist cavern over and over. “You want a drink, baby? You ready for it?”

You hum in agreement and he eases up, withdrawing until just the head of that thick phallus sits on the tip of your tongue. You’re panting, moaning, frantic for his release perhaps even more than your own.

“Here you go, sweetheart.” A couple of swipes along the shaft and that brief pumping is enough to send him over the edge, thick pulses of cum now spraying the inside of your mouth, pooling on the wedge of muscle his dick rests against. There’s a lot. An absurd amount. You can feel it leaking from the corners of your mouth. Bitter, but not the worst you’ve tasted. Sheer coincidence your body decides to shatter the instant you swallow that load, forcing that creamy baby batter down your gullet while your pussy spasms against your relentless finger.

“There you go, baby. Good girl.”

The milkman’s doppel bends to kiss you, surprising you with the gesture, now of all times, licking your face clean before thrusting his tongue between your lips and you crash right into another orgasm, moaning and twitching while the imposter fucks your mouth with his tongue.

Truly wrung out now, you collapse against the back of the chair, your chest heaving. The doppelgänger refastens his pants, but not before you notice it looks like he could go another round soon, and oh, doesn’t that make your cunt throb again in spite of being so recently satisfied, twice no less.

It takes great effort to smooth your skirt and your mussed hair back into some semblance of order, returning your attention to the documents that are certainly ready by now, the ink well set. The doppelgänger doesn’t return to his seat, instead remaining beside you, watching as the final protective layer is applied.

“There you go. Finished.” You glance up to see the doppel’s gaze fixed on you again, the money forgotten in his hand.

“Maybe…maybe we could work out a deal for the remainder of the payment.”

Your heart speeds up a little. “I’m listening.”

“Maybe I could make special deliveries. To your residence. For as long as it takes to cancel the debt.”

You hum, pretending to consider the offer even though you already know what your answer will be. “What happens after that?”

“We can renegotiate the terms when the time comes.”

“Interesting.”

“Interesting as in you want to think it over, or…interesting as in you definitely want more?” He bends to kiss you again. Gentler this time, but no less appealing.

“The latter.”

“Good. I was hoping you’d say that.” He sets the cash on the desk. “Consider that a tip then, for a job well done.”

You’re not going to argue with that. You hurriedly put everything away and lock the office again, soon finding yourself back outside next to the truck.

“Are you walking home, or do you want a ride?”

You weigh the discomfort of being on the floor in the smelly vehicle against walking home alone at an even riskier hour, where an encounter with another doppel would most assuredly not go as pleasantly.

“I’ll take the ride. But you need to clean the truck out.”

“I’ll do it in the morning.”

“The real milkman must have caught hell losing all these orders and the company car,” you murmur as you return to your former position inside the vehicle.

“Not my problem.”

“Every man for himself, right?” You can hardly condemn the attitude, given your current career choice.

“Exactly.” A flash of teeth in the darkness. He steals another kiss before starting the engine, bending low to capture your lips.

You’re delivered safely to your apartment building minutes later, personally escorted by the cloned milkman.

“I’ll bring you your next delivery tomorrow night, hmm?”

“Okay.” He’s standing so close. It takes just the slightest lean for him to kiss you again.

“Unless, of course, you wanted another advance…”

You shove the door you’ve already unlocked open, inviting the doppelgänger inside.

[honeypiehotchner]

kiss her, you fool (Hotch x fem!Reader) -- one shot

Anyway I'm back in the fucking building again!!!! Listened to "Kiss Her You Fool" by Kids That Fly and had this one shot written in like an hour. The love for Aaron Hotchner never dies apparently

Summary: You're in the middle of spring cleaning when Aaron calls and says he forgot something at your place (he didn't).

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff! I just wanted to write some romance

It’s the middle of the day and you’re in the middle of a cleaning frenzy when your phone rings for what looks like the third time. It’s Aaron.

“Hey! Sorry,” you laugh, grabbing the TV remote to pause your music, phone pressed to your ear with your shoulder. “I’m spring cleaning and clearly way too far in the zone. What’s up?”

“That’s okay,” you can hear him smiling as you readjust your phone in your hand. “Would it be alright if I stopped by? I think I left something there last night.”

You furrowed your brows, spinning around the living room. You definitely would’ve noticed if he left something here last night. You’ve practically turned your entire apartment upside down to clean it.

“Are you sure?” you ask, moving to lift the couch cushions for a third time. “What was it?”

“I’m not sure,” he says, which totally isn’t suspicious at all. “Can I just come look?”

“I mean,” you let out an awkward laugh. “I guess you can. I’ve been cleaning since this morning, though, so I think I would’ve spotted it, but—”

“I’ll be there in fifteen,” he says. “If that’s okay?”

You sigh, selfishly glad you’re getting to see him again, two days in a row. It feels like you’ve hit the jackpot. “Yeah, of course it’s okay.”

“Great, see you in a few.”

“See you,” you bite back your grin, ending the call. You turn the music back on, a little lower so you’ll hear him when he knocks.

You have no earthly idea what he could’ve forgotten. He had his phone and jacket in hand when he left. He never took his wallet or keys out of his jacket pockets, so they must’ve stayed there. Unless either of them fell out, but again, you feel like you would’ve noticed.

Whatever it is, he’ll either find it or realize it isn’t here. Regardless, you’re getting to see him again, so you’ll take it.

With his job, the days that you do see Aaron are typically one long day spent together here and there. Yesterday was an exception, a rare dinner mid-work week because he happened to be done at the office early and you were free, so obviously the opportunity was taken advantage of. It’s only been a few weeks of seeing one another, so you both take any chance you can get. 

Despite this, though, things have moved…slow. Slower than you expected because, to be frank, every guy you’ve been with has been quick and to the point. Not that you always minded that. Sometimes you wanted the same thing — quick, hot, heavy. But those days have since left you, and you went through a period of seeing no one, aside from one guy who left as soon as you said you were interested in moving slowly. 

It’s nothing against Aaron, but when he first introduced himself at your local coffee shop, you kind of assumed he’d be the same. It’s hard not to assume when everyone acted that way, and when the men who frequent said coffee shop don’t exactly have the best track record for being polite and respectful.

Aaron, though, took weeks to ask for your number, let alone to join your table one morning to sip his coffee — and even then, you offered him the seat; he didn’t invite himself. That alone was enough for you to agree to give him your number, and then to an official first date.

He kissed your cheek after the first date, your forehead after the second, and kept to those areas alone. You found yourself wondering if something was wrong with you somehow, but he wasn’t disinterested. Quite the opposite, actually, from how he held your hand and kept his arms around you, how he made sure you were safely inside your apartment before heading off, how he still texted when he arrived home to ask you if you were still safely inside.

Or when he had to cancel a date last minute, and sent flowers to your apartment in lieu of his presence. He apologized over the phone, but the flowers had an apology note attached too. And another apology when he arrived at your door four days later, fresh off the plane, with a real explanation of his job and why he didn’t have time to explain it all to you before he left.

Your friends think it’s a little crazy, that it’s been almost a month of dating and there hasn’t been a single kiss — “On the cheek doesn’t count!” they argue. You think it does. If anything, you’re just happy there’s no pressure.

The underlying anxiety is there, sure, of what if it never happens? But you can’t bring yourself to entertain the thought. Mainly because you want to kiss him so bad, you’re practically going to leap onto him one of these days.

You’re mid-dance when a knock sounds on your door and you jump, having forgotten Aaron said he would be here soon. You turn the music down as you head for the door, unlocking it to let him in.

He stands there in his usual dark suit, sans tie this time so the top buttons are undone, bouquet of flowers in hand and dumb smile on his face.

“What are these for?” you ask when he hands them to you. 

He steps inside and shuts the door, pausing to press a kiss to your forehead. “Because I wanted to.”

You give him a look, cheeks feeling warm. “If you keep doing this ‘because you want to,’ I’m gonna need to open a flower truck,” you joke, gesturing to the other vase of flowers sitting in your window. And there’s another in the bathroom. And one in your bedroom. 

“Just let me know what kind of truck you want,” he teases.

You press the flowers to your nose to hide your smile. “Oh, what did you forget? You’re welcome to look for it, but—”

He lets out a laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, I might have lied.”

“I knew you were, you idiot,” you swat playfully at his arm. You turn to head into the kitchen in search of another vase. “I got off the phone and paced around like what did he possibly leave here? I figured maybe your wallet or something, but I definitely would’ve found it earlier. You should’ve seen the living room this morning — I had the couch on its side and the coffee table in the middle of the hallway—”

You’re in the middle of rambling, digging around under the sink for a vase, when Aaron pulls you up by your hand, spinning you to face him.

“—it was a disaster trying to vacuum. Remind me never to do that unless you’re over here to lift all of it. I think I nearly—”

He’s smiling at you, and you don’t have a single moment to spare to register that he’s leaning in before his lips are on yours. 

You sigh into the kiss, pleasantly surprised to be interrupted in this way, and glad your hands are free so you can hold onto him. Maybe this is why it’s good he hadn’t kissed you yet — one second of it and you’re ready to collapse under the sweet weight of it all. His arms circle your waist to lift you up, and your arms circle his neck, keeping him close. As close as you’ve really wanted him.

When you finally break for air, it’s only to press your foreheads against one another’s, not wanting to move too far.

“Well,” you laugh.

“Technically,” he says, pausing to peck your nose, “that’s what I forgot last night.”

You roll your eyes. “You are so stupid.”

“Mm, just because it makes you smile,” he says, kissing your lips again, and again. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Ideally,” you pause, letting him kiss you again, “ordering dinner in and making out with my boyfriend until the sun rises. You?”

“You know, I was thinking about taking someone special out to dinner,” he pauses, pulling you closer again, “and then kissing her until she tells me to stop.”

“That could be forever, for all you know.”

“That’s fine with me.”

You grin and he kisses you again, pausing to say, “Sorry, I can’t help myself—”

“Trust me,” you move even closer, your eyelashes practically touching his cheeks when you blink, “you don’t need to apologize.”

He responds by kissing you some more, and more, until he’s lifting you into his arms and placing you on the kitchen counter. 

“Aaron!” you squeal, nearly crushing the bouquet. “Let me move the flowers at least!”

“I’ll buy you another,” he says, just a whisper away from kissing you again. 

“You know—” You have to pause in between words as he presses his lips to yours. “—I still have—cleaning—Aaron,” you giggle. “I need to put my apartment back together.”

“Do you?” he asks, relenting only slightly, his fingertips pressing into your lower back, keeping you against him. “Do you need help?”

“I do actually,” you chuckle, running your fingers through his hair. “The couch isn’t back where it was.”

He smirked. “I noticed.”

You tug on his hair slightly to tease him for that jab, only it lights a new spark behind his eyes. Your cheeks grow even warmer. “No, seriously,” you say. “It’ll stress me out if it’s not back in its spot, but then…”

He nods, kissing your lips. “Then we’ll get ready for dinner.”

“And then come back here for a movie?”

“We’ll see how much of the movie we actually pay attention to,” he smirks, eyes traveling all over your face. 

The urge to let him ravish you right now against the kitchen counter is so strong it nearly makes you lightheaded. But soon Aaron is helping you down, pressing another kiss to your forehead. 

“Did you get to vacuum under the couch all the way?”

“…kind of.”

“Come on,” he chuckles, pulling on your hand, leading you back into the living room. “Call me next time?”

“If I get kissed like that during spring cleaning then I’m doing it every day,” you reply, mostly joking. Kind of. “Fuck I forgot the vase for the flowers—”

Aaron kisses you to interrupt you once again. “One thing at a time,” he says.

The kissing doesn’t stop, and you never do get to vacuum under the couch. It can wait.

[heartpascal]

you’ll find the key

▹ — joel miller x platonic!f!reader

▹ — summary: part five of if the door wasn’t shut — after feeling hopeless, you decide it’s time to heal

▹ — a/n: guys, i apologise for the wait! usually it doesn’t take me so long to write but this was a bit of a struggle!! i hope it lives up to any expectations :( i love you guys sm <3 pls leave ur thoughts + feedback and if u would like to see anything else in this series !!!

▹ — warnings: bad mental health, arguments, like two much needed hugs, so many apologies (my brain is failing so please tell me if there’s anything i’m missing!!!)

▹ — general taglist: @auggiesolovey @just-kaylaa @evyiione @lemonlaides @fariylixie0915 @erensloveinterest @dazedshoon @faceache111 @randomhoex @canpillowscry @sleepygraves @pedropascalsrealgf @star-wars-lover @coolchick333 @soobsdior @ilybbg @rvjaa @oliest19xx @pedropepsi @sunflowersdrop @truthfuleeyours

masterlist

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR

check out howl’s song associations!

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

It was still storming outside.

Snow was coming down in heavy bouts, swirling all over the place with the force of the wind, and it was almost a goddamn blizzard. The ground was covered in it, and if it weren’t for the people already out in the streets, using shovels to dig away the snow in front of doorways, you were sure everyone would’ve gotten snowed in.

Not that you were going anywhere, anyway.

You hadn’t left Jesse’s side since you had gotten back to Jackson, after Tommy had a talk with you. They told you he was going to be absolutely fine, that all he needed was rest and to keep the wound clean. You still worried about him.

Part of you, despite knowing that what happened wasn’t your fault, still felt guilty. Out of the two of you, you were the more experienced one, and you should’ve known better, right? Should’ve caught wind that something wasn’t quite right sooner? You should’ve done something, protected him better, maybe?

You didn’t know exactly what you could’ve done differently, and you tried not to think of the possibilities, because the last thing you needed was to drown in guilt when you already felt bad enough.

Tommy’s chat with you hadn’t helped, either, and you know it was only because he cares, but it still hurt. The way he had looked at you, so angry, and scolded you for going back out there, for going after Joel when you and Jesse had barely made it out yourselves. He had called you irresponsible, which you would’ve argued against, if you hadn’t felt so guilty over the events of the day, if you hadn’t been worrying about Jesse.

You didn’t want to think about him being right, about how you could’ve gotten Jesse killed today, or yourself, god — Joel could’ve died, trying to save you. But was that really your fault? You wondered if everyone blamed you for Jesse getting hurt, as much as you blamed yourself.

“Are you really brooding, right now?” Jesse croaked, startling you from where you stood at the window beside his bed, staring out at the swirling snow. You turned to him, seeing his raised eyebrows, and felt almost thankful about the annoyance that arose when he looked smug, like he was right. “Unbelievable!”

“I’m not brooding, you asshole.” You murmured, unconvincingly. Jesse grinned, shaking his head at your denial.

“Oh, you so are.”

“I should’ve let them finish the job.” You responded flatly, breaking into a smile when Jesse laughed. The quiet lingered for a moment, both of your smiles slowly falling as the weight of everything that happened registered between you. “I’m sorry.”

Jesse’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you, his fingers picking at the edge of the blanket settled over him. “For what? Saving my life?”

“No, Jesse, I should’ve never put us in that situation. Especially after Pete left. I know better.” You replied, stepping towards the guy who had quickly become your best friend. You shook your head, eyes flickering around the room, until they settled on him. “Tommy took me off patrols, anyway, so.”

“What?” Jesse questioned, mouth hanging open. “Why?”

You stared at him, blinking in your confusion, and you tilted his head back to check his eyes were focused, that he wasn’t concussed, or something.

“Do you not remember what happened?”

“I remember just fine, thank you.” He responded, eyebrows creased as your hand left his forehead. Both of you wore incredibly confused expressions, neither knowing what the miscommunication between you could be. “Why would Tommy take you off patrols?”

“Jesse, you could’ve died.” You said, watching his face for the reaction, as if the information was new to him.

“Yeah, but that wasn’t your fault! You’re the one who saved me, who got me out. I don’t understand.” Jesse said, voice raising as he got slightly heated. He lowered his voice when he sat up, and pulled at his stitches, hissing in pain.

“No, I got us into it, and I was lucky to get us out.” You told him, as if it was a confession, and you frowned. You didn’t want to think about what could have happened to Joel, didn’t want to say that for once, the world had been on your side, letting you get him out, too. You didn’t voice it, but you don’t know what you would’ve done with yourself if he had died, trying to save you.

Jesse shifted, voicing your name, but you stopped him, smiling tightly in his direction. “It’s fine, Jesse. It’s for the better. Besides, means I’ve got more time to do my pottering.” You teased, though the words didn’t quite reach the way your teasing usually sounded. “Anyway, Dina showed up.”

“What? Why? Did she actually?” Jesse asked, his eyebrows raised as he looked to you with suspicion, like you were about to be making fun of him.

“‘Course she did. Whole town knows what happened, and she was worried about you.” You said with a grin that didn’t meet your eyes.

“The whole town?” He questioned, shutting his eyes and dropping his head back with a groan when you nodded your confirmation. “My family are so going to kill me, aren’t they?”

With a laugh, you reached forward to mess up his hair, “Oh, Jesse, you sweet thing. We’ve already devised a plan on how we’re going to do it.”

He slapped your hand away, glaring, but a smile pulled at his lips. He knew it wasn’t true, knew you were just entertaining his dramatics. What he didn’t know, was that his family had already been in, had already scolded you for getting their golden boy into trouble.

You moved back to the window, seeing a man across the road had given up on shovelling the heavy snow away from his door. Something heavy had settled on your chest, and you took a deep breath to try and get some oxygen past it. You didn’t blame Jesse’s family for what they had said to you — if you had been in their position, you probably would’ve been the same. They hadn’t quite approved of you, anyway, so you didn’t take it too personally. You were more than aware of everything you had done wrong.

Somebody cleared their throat in the doorway to the room, and you turned away from the window to see Joel stood there. He nodded his greeting to Jesse, a tight smile on his face.

“C’mon, kiddo, Tommy wants you to head back to the shop.” Joel said, repressing the sigh that wanted to leave his chest when you only nodded, stepping away from the window with a final glance outside.

“Well,” You said to Jesse, trying to muster up your best smile, “Duty calls, I guess. Feel better soon, okay?”

He called your name when you walked away, passing Joel as he stood beside the door, but you ignored it, feeling that weight grow heavier. Joel followed after you, a frown on his face.

You knew the route out already, and figured Joel was just the messenger, but he followed along, a few steps behind you as he limped on his injured leg. The wind was harsh when you opened the door, and you shivered when snow was immediately blown in your face. You lingered in the doorway, both hesitant to go out into the awful conditions, and feeling bad for leaving Joel hurrying on his bad leg.

Joel didn’t say it, but you knew he was here because Tommy didn’t want to see you. You couldn’t say you were surprised — not after just how angry Tommy had gotten. His face had been red, the steam pouring from his ears practically melting the snow around him, and it was the first time he had ever yelled at you.

“You doing okay?” Joel asked, hesitantly, as he paused in the doorway beside you, watching you as you wrapped your coat tighter around you. He knew that nothing was fixed, not even close, but there was something.

“I’m fine, Joel.” You replied, and he could hear the exhaustion in your voice, the way it pulled on your words. It was easier to hear than it was to see, but he just caught the slump to your shoulders, the way you held your eyes shut for a moment, before going to brave the snow.

He walked beside you as you headed towards the ceramics shop, your pace a touch slower than usual. You shoved your hands in your pockets, eyebrows creasing when you realised you must’ve taken your gloves off at some point. You tried not to sigh when you realised that they were probably lost, and just decided to chalk it up to another disappointment in an incredibly frustrating day.

When you arrived at the ceramics shop, it was a mission to get through all the snow that had started blocking the door. You would probably be snowed in, by nightfall. Joel helped you get rid of as much of it as possible, his gloved hands doing most of the work after your bare ones become too numb to continue.

You opened the door, feeling heavier than you had in months, and left the door open as you moved to the back of the shop, turning on the heater that sat there. You let your hands linger in front of it, just gritting your teeth at the sting that followed from warming them too quickly.

Joel lingered in the doorway, frowning at you, and furrowed his eyebrows as he called your name, watching your turn to face him. “I’m sorry.”

You gaped at him, stunned.

“You should have gotten a choice. It wasn’t my place to decide that for you, or to leave without havin’ a conversation.” He continued on, his words jumbling the slightest bit. “I still think you stayin’ was the best thing for you, the safest thing, but for whatever it might be worth, I am sorry.”

When your silence lingered, Joel nodded tersely, and stepped away, smiling tightly as he left the shop, shutting the door behind him. You blinked at the closed door, unsure what to do, unsure if you should have said something. But even if you should’ve, what would you have said?

It wasn’t okay, not in the slightest, and everything around you seemed to be crumbling. Tommy wasn’t speaking to you and Maria would be more than upset with you, too. Jesse was in the infirmary, and that was on you. And even as you looked around the ceramics shop, all you saw was cracked paint on the walls, and dust that settled no matter how many times you wiped it away.

Hell, even the misshapen plates and bowls on the shelves just made your chest hurt. You didn’t feel any sort of pride for this place, anymore, and it was painful. It stung at the deepest parts of you, and you just settled down on the dirty floor in front of the heater, holding your head in your hands as you blinked back tears.

Why did you think you could do this?

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Initially, you didn’t intend on avoiding Jesse.

In fact, you had plans to go and visit him the day after everything went to shit. It was just that when you opened the shop door, the outside looked far too unfriendly, and you knew his family would be in his infirmary room.

Perhaps it was a cowardly move, staying at the shop, locking the door and pretending the outside world of Jackson didn’t exist. Really, you were going to go and see him the next day. Swore to yourself that you would. But when the next day came, you didn’t even attempt to unlock the door to leave, figuring that it would be best to just leave him and his family to it. Dina was probably with him, too, so your absence wouldn’t be felt all too much.

Each day you said you would go, started with you justifying your staying in the shop. It went the same way, waking up and thinking you should go and see him, but the moment you got into the front of the shop, you thought better of it.

You blamed it on everything but what it actually was. Whether that be the snow, the heater in the shop that broke, the concept of him having quality time with his family… you used it all to reassure yourself that he didn’t need you by his side.

Besides, you knew he wouldn’t be in the infirmary for long. And by the fifth day, there was a knock against the shop door, barely heard over the howling wind outside. You remained in the back room, telling yourself it was probably nothing important, and after the heater broke, you couldn’t afford to open the door, anyway.

Even with the door closed, your breath misted in front of your face, and you had to rub your hands together more than once to generate heat, especially considering you seemed to have misplaced your gloves.

On day six, you kept all the lights off, and didn’t bother to poke your head around the doorframe to see who was knocking at the front door. After a few moments of loud knocking, his voice called out your name, and you were sure he was likely squinting through the shop window, trying to catch sight of you.

You barely even noticed the way you held your breath so it wouldn’t cloud the air, and alert him to your presence. You pretended the harsh exhale after he left was just a sigh of exhaustion. In some ways, you guessed it was.

By day seven, he knew what you were doing.

“Open the door,” Jesse yelled, still knocking wildly against the wood, and you were sure he was peeking in the window, too. “I’ve been to Tommy’s, the dinner hall, the greenhouses, the stables, hell — I even went to Joel’s. I know you’re here, stop hiding.”

You stayed in the back room.

After a while — much longer than you expected, especially given the still-awful weather — Jesse gave up, leaving the door at last. You frowned at the empty can of food in front of you, chest aching from the cold and everything that had happened over the past few days.

You hadn’t left the shop in the past seven days, surviving off of the short supply of long-life food in the cupboards. But that was your last can of it. As much as you knew you would have to leave, have to go get some more food in order to survive, you still didn’t want to. You didn’t want to see anyone, didn’t want them to see the shame that was so visible in the curve of your frown, the dip of your brows.

It made it easier to hide, knowing Jesse was the only person looking for you. There had been no sign of Tommy or Maria, which pained you, but didn’t surprise you. Part of you wondered if they’d ever speak to you again, but you didn’t want to linger on the question, too afraid of the answer.

It was day eight that you had no other choice — the temperatures were dropping even further, and with no heater it was becoming too cold for you to take. The need for heat and food led you to the dinner hall, which was surprisingly empty, and you settled at your usual table with a plate of cooked food, feeling the chill that had begun to settle in your bones fade.

Most people would be staying inside their homes, the cold too much to bear, so you were surprised when Ellie waltzed into the hall, eyes scanning the room as she made her way over to grab herself some food. You dipped your head when she began looking in your direction, and clutched at the fork in your hand, holding your breath.

“So you are alive.” Ellie drawled, settling down in the seat opposite you with her plate in front of her. “You know your friend has been coming ‘round for the past few days, won’t leave us alone.”

You shrugged, not knowing how to respond.

She sighed, poking at the food on her plate. “Thanks for going back for Joel, by the way.” She pretended not to see the way your head snapped up, eyebrows furrowed as you looked at her.

“I wouldn’t leave him to die out there,” You said, after a moment, the words hesitant as they left you. “Especially when he went to try and help me.”

Ellie nodded, shoving food into her mouth, and you quickly followed her action. The silence between the two of you stretched uncomfortably, and you hated how everything had changed. Why couldn’t they have just let you come with them? Why did they have to push you so far away?

“He’s a good guy,” Ellie said, a frown on her face. “He makes stupid decisions, but only because he cares about us.”

You looked at her, wondering when the two of you had grown up. You remember the jokes you had shared during your travels, the way she had been able to make you smile even when doing so seemed impossible. She had made life in the apocalypse almost bearable, and now here you were, sat at the same table, but miles apart.

“Maybe, but you were right about one thing. I don’t know what happened, so if you ever want to talk about it, I’ll listen.” You told her, instead of acknowledging her words about Joel. You didn’t want to think about him. You didn’t want to think about any of it.

It would be painful, you were sure, to hear about everything they had experienced. You could guess that a lot of it wouldn’t be pleasant, and it would likely hurt to hear about all the things you had missed out on, all the things that maybe you could’ve protected them from. But you were willing. It wasn’t forgiveness, it wasn’t a ticket back to being in each other’s lives, but it was progress.

And progress was all that you could offer, so it would have to do.

“I’ll, uh, keep that in mind.” Ellie said, a tight smile on her face as she looked at you, her eyebrows slightly raised in surprise at your words.

You nodded, and the two of you ate in silence.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

After stocking up on some more long-lasting cans of food, you were prepared to hunker down in the shop for a while longer. You hadn’t been able to trade for another blanket like you had hoped, but you weren’t all too surprised. With the stormy weather, everybody wanted more warming supplies.

You had survived worse conditions, though, in worse places. One harsh winter in Jackson wouldn’t kill you, even if your heater was broken, and you still hadn’t found your gloves.

The shop door was locked once again, and you had taped the bottom of it to try and stop the cold draft from seeping into the room. You considered bunkering down in the back room, taping the door shut and staying in there with all the blankets and layers you had, but you thought better of it. You wanted to be able to hear the front door with ease, still on edge after the ambush with Jesse, especially considering the raiding attacks that had slowly begun to ease off.

Despite whatever had gone wrong, however angry Tommy may be, you knew he’d rely on you if the time came. You were sure of it. Everything the two of you had built couldn’t have been toppled by this one event, right?

Your gun was still laid by the shop door, and your ammo never left the jacket you always wore. Just in case. If anything were to go wrong, you wanted to be ready.

The call of your name shook you from your racing thoughts, the contemplation of everything that could happen pausing as your head snapped up. Maria’s voice was loud, and she hadn’t knocked. You didn’t have a surname — didn’t know whoever came before you long enough for them to tell you, didn’t know everyone who came after long enough for them to share their own. So she settled on your first name, yelling it loudly.

“Open the door!” Maria demanded once again, kicking the bottom of it with her foot. “Come on, open it. You’re not fooling anybody, and it’s freezing out here, little Troy can’t stay out here too long.”

With a sigh, you stood. She knew how to get to you — bringing baby Miller was a harsh plan, especially because it gave you no choice but to let her in. Not that it was much warmer in the shop than it was outside, but she didn’t know that.

You unlocked the door, pulling it open just to fit yourself into the crack of it. Facing Maria was terrifying, because you didn’t know what to expect. Even as she held on to baby Troy Miller, who was bundled up in more layers than you could count, she was totally unpredictable. She could be in a motherly mood, or that merciless Jackson council member.

“Hi,” You said, nervously. “What’re you doing here?”

She raised her eyebrows, stepping forward until you’d opened the door for her to step inside of the shop. Maria’s stern expression immediately fell, and you could feel nerves building in your stomach.

“Is your heating out?” She asked, turning on you suddenly, harshly. When you nodded meekly, she handed Troy over to you, not faltering even when you opened your mouth to voice your confusion.

He babbled at you, a toothy grin on his face, and you held on to him tighter. It hit you then, how much you actually cared about these people. Your brain short-circuited when you thought about something bad happening to this family, and it made you feel sick. Suddenly, you were regretting the meal you had eaten with Ellie.

“Well, I think Jeremy should be able to fix it up.” Maria sighed, standing from where she had crouched down to inspect your broken heater. “But he’s way busy with other heater issues. Come on, you’ll stay with us.”

“Maria.” You urged, repeating her name another time when she didn’t answer you, too busy thinking about options and solutions, as always. “I’m fine. Go home.”

She sighed heavily, turning to you with that stern look she’d been wearing since the moment you were left behind in Jackson. “I know you and Tommy are going through a rough time, but he loves you, and if he knew you’d been living here with no heat?” Maria shook her head with scoffed laughter, not reaching for Troy even as you offered to hand him back, instead moving to pack some of your clothes into a bag. “Come on, let’s go home.”

“It’s not my home, Maria,” You said softly, perhaps the softest she had ever heard you.

It was disquieting, at the least, for you to behave in such a way. Throughout the whole time Maria had known you, you had been sharp edges and bitten words, even when you had grown to care for them, that hadn’t changed all that much. It was a constant, your stubborn attitude and harsh nature, always slamming doors shut too hard, always charring food when you were unsupervised, because you’d turn the heat up too high. You were impatient, practical, realistic. You weren’t soft.

Maria’s face curved into a frown, and she stopped her presumptive actions in packing up some of your things. She looked at you, looked at the lines that were beginning to dig into your expression, looked at the way your shoulders slumped as you held on to her son.

“Maybe not,” Maria offered, and looked around at the shop that was not as pristine as the last time she had seen it, before looking back to you. “It could be, though.”

You shook your head, sighing but not finding any relief from the action, only feeling the same tightness to your chest. “I’m not a Miller.” You said, and it was true, because the space behind your name remained as empty as ever, that absence something you had felt your whole life.

“You’re as much a Miller as I am, as he is.” Maria reasoned, gesturing towards her son in your arms as she looked at you. She didn’t want to say too much, didn’t want to overwhelm you, but you had practically been adopted by the two Miller brothers. Two men who were so far from perfect, who made so many mistakes that they almost lost you, who cared too much. Hell, even if you weren’t consciously aware of it, you had adopted their mannerisms and tendencies.

It showed in the way you held Troy, the same stance that Tommy used. It showed in the frown on your lips, that looked far too much like Joel’s to be a coincidence. The furrow between your brows reflected Joel and Tommy’s own, a crevice built from worrying and frustration and anger. You reminded Maria too much of how Tommy had been when they first found him — eyes glassy, lost, and without purpose.

She had seen the change in you since you had been left in Jackson, so many ups and downs, but you had been doing better. And now, here you were, looking more lost than you ever had.

“That’s not true, Maria.” You replied, tense. It wasn’t true — Troy was a Miller by blood, and Maria was a Miller by marriage. Both choices that Tommy had made. It wasn’t the same for you, it couldn’t be. Tommy had never chosen you — Joel had dropped you in his lap before running away, and didn’t that make you the furthest thing from a Miller?

“It is true.” Maria refuted, stepping forward to hold a hand firmly against your face. “You’re a Miller, no doubt about it. Now come on, we’d better get going. Got a lot to talk about.”

She was finishing shoving your things inside of the backpack at her feet in a few moments, and was swinging it over her shoulder before you could protest, making her way out of the door. Holding her son, what choice did you have but to follow?

The two of you were silent on your journey to Rancher Street, and you felt the nerves bubbling up from your stomach, leaving an unpleasant tingling in the back of your throat. It was tense, though that could have been all from you. You were still holding Troy, having him half buried in your jacket to make sure he wouldn’t be cold, despite the fact your jacket wasn’t the warmest.

When you arrived to her house, Tommy wasn’t there. She didn’t say anything, so you didn’t mention it, much preferring to ignore the issues that would likely arrive whenever he returned. Instead, you settled Troy down, removing some of his layers at the rush of warm air that came the moment you stepped through the door.

Your hands were tingling, in a strange state between feeling and numb after the sudden temperature change. You settled them under your legs when you sat down on the couch, Troy at your side as Maria clambered about the kitchen, having already dropped your bag down beside the sofa.

When she came back, it was with a steaming mug that you recognised — one of your very own design. It was a dark green, close to black, and had your poor recreation of a bear on it. You remembered thinking it was going to come out brown, remembered the shock when it was green.

She handed it over, and you used the hand with slightly more feeling to take it from her, holding it close to your chin to allow the steam to flow over your features, warming your nose. “So,” Maria said, drawing your attention from where you’d been keeping an eye on Troy, keeping the hot mug away from him. “First, you and Tommy fight, and then you ignore your best friend?”

You stared at her, teeth clenched in shock, and recalled the way Ellie had mentioned the boy. Clearly, he was pestering everybody who knew you. Maria’s eyebrows raised, looking expectantly at you.

“‘M not ignoring anybody.” You murmured, voice catching in your throat as you spoke, and you took a sip of boiling hot tea to get rid of the lump that had formed. The burn soothed you, in a strange way, warming your insides the slightest bit as you breathed steam.

“Mhm, is that why he’s been ‘round here, bugging us ever since he got out of the damn infirmary?” Maria asked, expression tightening slightly as you winced, and knew she had got you.

You shook your head, moving your other hand from underneath your leg to cradle the mug in both palms, breathing a relieved breath at the warmth finally reaching your fingers. “Doesn’t know how to stop, does he?” You said, moving your eyes to the swirling drink in the mug, not looking up even as Maria hummed. “I’ll tell him to leave you be.”

“Ah, but that would require talking to him, which you clearly haven’t been doing.” She told you, a slight teasing lilt to her voice, to make it seem less serious than it truly was.

Maria remembered the night you and Tommy had arrived home, with you shoving at his shoulder whilst he laughed loudly, a bright teasing smile on his expression. It was probably the lightest she had ever seen the two of you, with Tommy not feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders for just a moment, and you smiling like you hadn’t faced unspeakable things. She remembered the way you had scrambled to correct Tommy’s statements, whacking a hand against his forearm when he interrupted you.

She remembered Troy waking up from where she hadn’t long settled him down, and remembered the way you had immediately gone to calm him down after hissing a “Look what you’ve done now!” at Tommy, who had only laughed.

Maria remembered the way her head had settled against her husband’s shoulder, exhausted to her very bones, motherhood feeling much harder than she remembered. Especially with her aged bones, keeping up with a baby was more difficult than she remembered. She didn’t want to think about what it would be like when he could actually run around. Maria had just been grateful to have you there, to be able to rest with Tommy, trusting you to look after her son.

You challenged her motherly instincts, sure, but Troy was on another level — it was a lot more to deal with when your child wasn’t basically self-sufficient.

“I’m going to,” You said, though there was doubt in your voice. “I am.” You repeated, as if that would solidify your statement, as if it would make it any more truthful.

“Listen,” Maria sighed, saying your name, and waiting for you to look up from your mug before she continued. “I know what happened on that patrol. I know. And it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anybody’s fault, so why are you ignoring Jesse?”

You swallowed, scratching a fingernail over a small crumb of clay that hadn’t gotten smoothed down before being fired. “I just… I care about him, and he could’ve died, Maria. Tommy was right, I—I was irresponsible, and I could’ve gotten us both killed.”

Maria shook her head immediately, picking Troy up when he began to fuss, and she stopped you. “No, Tommy was speaking from a place of anger. Of fear. You did everything right.” She affirmed, staring intensely at you, as if daring you to argue against her. “Except, maybe, going after Joel, but I know why you did that. I get it. If I had been in your position, if it were my…— I would’ve done the same thing.”

“I just didn’t want him to die, because of me.” You said, voice quiet again, and Maria’s heart ached for you, something squeezing so tightly in her chest that it physically hurt. “I don’t want Tommy to hate me forever, either.” You added after a few quiet moments, eyes following a bubble around the edge of the mug.

“He doesn’t hate you, kid, not at all. He was scared, he didn’t want to lose you.” Maria reasoned, but you still didn’t feel better, not after just how angry he had gotten. Not after he had practically shoved you out of his sight, the moment he was done yelling, unable to even look at you. Not after he had sent Joel as a messenger, refusing to speak to you himself.

“Maybe,” You offered, because it was the best you could do. You couldn’t agree with her, couldn’t disagree, either. The only person who would actually be able to decide those things was Tommy — and he was nowhere to be found. “I’ll talk to Jesse.” You decided to say, in the end, hands gripping tighter on the mug. Just saying it aloud made it seem all the more real, and you regretted it a moment afterwards, thoughts stuck on what Jesse would say, what his family would say.

“Good.” Maria said, nodding at you, “He’s a good kid, he deserves to know his friend is still here.” She stood to her feet, heading to the kitchen with Troy in her arms, waiting for her to feed him.

Twenty minutes later, when Maria had gone upstairs to put Troy down for a nap, the front door banged open, a rush of cold air being let in.

“Maria!” Tommy yelled out, his voice panicked, and you could hear him shuffling through his bag in the still-open doorway. With furrowed brows, you placed the cold mug down on the floor beside the sofa, standing up and making your way to peek into the hallway. “Maria, you here?” He shouted again, more desperate this time, and when you finally saw him, you saw that he had snow still clinging to him, and he had brought clumps of it in on his boots, slowly melting puddles on their floor.

“Tommy?” You questioned quietly, both not wanting to speak to him, but also getting increasingly concerned by his behaviour. His head snapped up to you, and he blinked in surprise, his shoulders slumping and hands pausing in their rummaging.

“Oh, thank god.” Tommy said, approaching you quickly and wrapping his arms around you tightly before you could get a word in. You blinked, shocked, and slowly wrapped your own arms around the man, who just held your head closer to him in return. “You scared the shit outta me.” He admitted, a slight tremor to his voice. He breathed out a heavy sigh, arms squeezing, and you wanted to look at him to express your confusion.

“Is everything okay?” Maria asked, a slight panic to her own voice, but she relaxed at the image before her. Tommy’s eyes opened as he rested his head on your own, and he looked to his wife as he nodded gently.

He moved away from you slightly, hands moving to hold your shoulders tightly, finally able to see your confused face. He sighed, his shoulders dropping like they had been holding the weight of the world. “I went to the shop, wanted to apologise. Couldn’t find you or your things, and it was freezing.” Tommy told you, his head dropping until his chin rested against his chest for a moment. “Thought you left.”

His arms pulled you back to his chest, and you didn’t resist him, though your heart was racing in your chest, blood rushing in your ears.

Maria frowned, “I didn’t know you were going. The heater’s broken, so I told her to stay with us.”

Tommy nodded again, his breath held in his chest as he let his heart rate calm down. You let him hold on to you until he was ready to let go, just keeping your face hidden in his shoulder as your arms wrapped loosely around him, fingers numb from the cold once again.

When he finally released you, you took a small step back, cheeks warm with remaining shame from your last conversation with the man. The rest of you, however, was freezing, especially since you had removed your multitude of layers in the warm house. Tommy frowned as you shivered, cursing under his breath as he turned to shut his front door, his frown deepening when he saw the water covering the hallway in front of the door.

He waved Maria away when she gave him a stern look, and she nodded once she saw his expression, smiling tightly at you before heading back upstairs to settle Troy back down, after he had been fussing from his father’s shouting.

Tommy turned to where you stood, hands wrung together to try and generate some more warmth between your digits. He sighed again, a seemingly very common thing for him at the moment, and he stood up straighter to talk to you.

“I’m sorry,” He told you, his voice reflecting his words in its apologetic tone. “I should never have spoken to you the way I did. Wasn’t fair of me to blame you for things that weren’t your fault. Or for me to judge you for doin’ exactly what I would’ve. What I should’ve.”

You stared at him, at the way his hands clenched and unclenched into fists at his sides, a slightly nervous habit, you had noticed.

“Tommy, you were right,” You responded, continuing on even as he shook his head, “I messed up, and I could’ve gotten Jesse, or Joel, or even myself killed.”

“No.” He said firmly, reaching out and holding onto your shoulders once again, his grip tight as if you might slip away. “I was wrong. You hear me? I should have been proud, proud that you were so brave, that you saved your friend and your— and Joel. I should have been proud that you made your way back, that you did it without some old shithead tellin’ you what to do.” He rambled on, shutting his eyes and looking almost regretful.

You ducked your head, feeling far too emotional, a lump formed in your throat at his words. Just somebody who you looked up to, who you trusted, telling you that you hadn’t done anything wrong… it was almost too much.

As many mixed feelings as you may have had over the whole situation, the most prevalent one was guilt. It had been surrounding you, weighing so heavily on you, hell, you didn’t even realise how much it had been pulling you down until Tommy came in, lifting it all off of your shoulders.

“You did good, kid.” He told you, squeezing your shoulders, and you hated the way your lip started trembling.

“Stop, you’re gonna make me cry.”

Tommy laughed, the sound watery and almost broken off, “You can cry as much as you want.” He pulled you in, feeling your arms squeeze around his middle as he held on to you so tightly, he was almost sure he’d never let go again.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Your closed fist was raised up to the door, a hair’s width away from making contact with it, but you had frozen. And it wasn’t because of the cold.

There was something that had settled heavily in your stomach, making your whole body feel heavy and slow. You felt, distantly, like you might throw up with the way it was sitting, but tried not to think on it too much. You were aware of the way your chest was rising and falling, almost too aware, and you tried to put it out of your mind as you attempted to steel yourself.

“You gonna knock, or are you just gonna keep standing there, looking stupid?” A voice asked from behind you, making you spin on your heels, fist pulled away from the door. You held a hand against your chest, breathing a heavy sigh as you saw the culprit of the scare.

“You’re an asshole.” You murmured, eyes studying your beaten up boots that were covered in melting snow. You looked up to him, and felt some relief when you saw Jesse crack a slight smile at your reaction. It faded far too quickly for your liking.

“So?” He prompted, eyebrows raising at you.

You frowned, repressing the urge to grumble at him, but you knew that he should’ve been the one angry at you. Hell, he probably was. “I just came to say… I’m sorry.”

“For…?”

“Are you kidding?” You asked, annoyed. But when his expression didn’t budge, you sighed through your nose. “Okay. I’m sorry for ignoring you after the infirmary, and I’m sorry you got put into the infirmary at all.” You said, looking back down the where the melting snow was seeping into the hole at the side of your boots. You should probably get new ones.

Jesse didn’t say anything for a moment, and you picked at your fingernails while you stared at the ground, your nerves sending your pulse into a fluttery mess.

Finally, you heard him snickering, and your head snapped up. “Well, I just can’t believe this. You, apologising?” You glared as his smile slowly grew, though you knew that the whole thing wasn’t quite solved, at least it was good to know that Jesse was still acting his usual asshole self with you. “Come on, you little asshole.” He said, gesturing for you to follow him. You did.

He glanced at you every so often, shaking his head at your stoic expression.

The two of you arrived at the dining hall soon enough, standing in the queues silently whilst waiting to collect food, until Jesse nudged you and led you over to the table you so often shared.

“You do realise I would never blame you for something that happened on patrol, right?” He asked, eyebrow raised as he awaited your response, shovelling food into his mouth as if he was starving. He reminded you an awful lot of Ellie, in that way. You wondered if they had met.

With a roll of your eyes, “Well, now, yeah. Do we have to talk about this? I said sorry, didn’t I?” You murmured the last part, shovelling your own food into your mouth, refraining from rolling your eyes again when Jesse snickered at you.

“How could I forget? You prefer to brood rather than talk about your feelings.” He responded.

“Okay, I don’t brood—”

“Yes, you do—”

“And do you enjoy talking about… feelings?” You said, ignoring his interruption. He stared at your raised eyebrows, the expectant look on your face.

“Sometimes, I do.”

“Maybe when it comes to—”

“Dina!” Jesse said in a high pitched tone, cutting you off and looking at you with widened eyes. You looked behind you, seeing the girl of the hour approaching your table, an amused look in her eye. She nudged you with a grin as she walked past, sitting on your left and smiling widely at Jesse’s surprised expression.

After settling down, she looked back up to meet Jesse’s eyes. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

You snorted out a laugh, not expecting to hear such an old expression coming from her — it sounded like something Joel might say. Jesse glared at you, unamused by the grin you and Dina shared.

“Yeah, Jesse.” You goaded, smiling at his indignant huff. “Not want to talk about feelings, anymore?” You asked. You leaned backwards as he swiped his arm out, trying to knock the cutlery from your hand as it was heading towards your mouth. Dina laughed at his failed attempt.

“So you two are talking again, then?” Dina said when her laughing faded, and you glared at the way Jesse grinned, unhappy with the fact he was telling her such things. You supposed that you couldn’t blame him — after all, you had spoken to Maria about it. It just so happened that Jesse was your only friend your actual age.

“Unfortunately.” You grumbled, eyes narrowed at the man.

“Unfortunately,” Jesse mocked, making a face at you. “Somebody finally came to their senses!” He said, after he was done poking at his food as he frowned at you.

“Somebody is having regrets about it.” You responded in turn, smiling sarcastically at him.

“Back to normal, then.” Dina concluded, smiling when the two of you nodded. She didn’t know you all too well, but from the time she had spent with you in Jesse’s infirmary room, she was a fan. You clearly cared about Jesse, way more than you would admit, and she could admire that.

You looked at Jesse, “Back to normal.” He echoed, smiling at you.

You pretended that the sigh you let out wasn’t one of relief.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

“You should really clean this place up, you know.” Jesse commented as you unlocked the door to the pottery shop, his eyes scanning around the room, the chill to the air making him shove his hands in his pockets. He looked at the dust covering the surfaces you usually cut clay on and raised his eyebrows.

“Well, I’ve been a bit busy.” You replied, moving to the newly fixed heater that Tommy had brought over when he walked you back to the shop that very morning.

“Oh, yeah, avoiding me.” Jesse said, grinning mischievously when you shot him an annoyed look over your shoulder, focusing on turning the heater on, placing your freezing hands in front of it when it finally started shooting out some warmth. You sighed at the sting, just glad to feel your hands once again.

You sat down on a dusty stool, turning to Jesse when he sat down beside you, relishing in the heater that was finally working. “Okay, so maybe I’m not the best with… feelings.”

“No kidding,” Jesse snorted, his smile fading when you stared at him, deadpan. “Sorry, go on.”

“But I can say that I do care about you. Sometimes. When you don’t piss me off.” You told him, drawing in a shaky breath that filled your lungs with cold air. “I just… relationships are complicated, you know? And painful, a lot of the time. I didn’t wanna go through that again, I guess, but you’re persistent.”

Jesse smiled as you spoke, somewhat amused by your words, but even you could see the softness to it. The absence of that teasing edge his grin usually held. It was reassuring.

“If this is about Joel—” Jesse attempted, shutting his mouth when you cut him off.

“—It’s not about him.” You interrupted, quickly, the back of your neck feeling hot despite the heater being quite far from you. “Or maybe it is, I don’t know.” You added on, after thinking about it for a second. You generally tried not to think of Joel, or the whole situation with him and Ellie, but could it really have effected you that much? It’s not like Joel was the first person you had lost.

He was the first to walk away without a fight, though.

A small part of you fought that fact, because he came back. Did that not mean anything?

“Can I speak yet?” Jesse asked, a slight teasing lilt to his voice. It brought you out of your thoughts, and you smiled despite the topic at hand. With a nod from you, Jesse went on, “Thanks. I’m just saying, maybe Joel isn’t all that bad. I’m not defending what he did, but the guy clearly cares about you.”

“So I should just— just forgive him? For leaving me?” You asked, looking at Jesse as if he had all the answers.

“I don’t know, that’s up to you,” He said. “Maybe you don’t need to forgive him. Maybe it’s time to just… move on with your life. Forget about what he did, and focus on what he can do. You miss him, don’t you?”

You frowned, looking away from the intensity of Jesse’s gaze. The two of you were friends, yes, and he was the closest friend you’d ever had, maybe besides Ellie. But being so open, it was strange. Likely the effect of the apocalyptic world you lived in, and perhaps it was another difference between that world and the little safe haven of Jackson, Wyoming.

“‘Course I do. He and Tess… they were everything I had.” You replied, your eyebrows creasing at the thought of the woman, at the memory of your life in Boston QZ. It made you realise that it had been a while since Maria had cut your hair, and Tess would’ve chastised you for not reminding her to cut it if you had let it gotten this long in Boston.

It all felt so far away.

When you thought of Tess, your heart ached. Though, it wasn’t quite the same as it had been on your journey with Joel and Ellie. You felt her absence, maybe more than ever, but it wasn’t all bitter. You felt… appreciative of her. She may be gone, but at least you got to have her for a time.

You really wished that she could’ve seen this place, though. You often wondered if she would’ve liked pottery.

Joel would probably know.

“Tess may be gone, but Joel isn’t. Not anymore.” Jesse reminded you, hesitant in his words. You realised that you had never really told him, or anyone, about Tess.

“Y’know, if Tess were here, she’d probably tell me to get over myself,” You laughed at the thought, a sad, watery laugh, but Jesse smiled with you despite not knowing the woman. “She’d kick Joel’s ass, though.”

“Is that even possible? Joel’s like… badass, man.”

“Nobody was more badass than Tess. She was awesome. Used to boss Joel around, all the time, she ran half of the smuggling underground at Boston.” You smiled when Jesse raised his eyebrows, surprised. “And she used to cut my hair. Always told me it was better to keep my hair short, even though she had long hair.”

“Bit hypocritical, isn’t it?” Jesse asked, humour in his words.

You shrugged, “Think she was just trying to keep me safe, in her own way. Tess didn’t want to keep me, to start with. Joel convinced her.”

The more you thought about it, the more you realised that it really was because of Joel that you were allowed to stay with the two of them. You remember hearing them argue on a few occasions, something about a great family that Tess knew nearby. But Joel had never let you go too far.

He’d told you about Tess’s family, though it wasn’t really his place to do so. He had done it in an attempt to comfort you one night when you were young, after you had gotten upset at Tess disregarding you yet again. Joel had explained that she didn’t like getting attached to anybody, especially kids, after she lost her own child. He had told you that it was what they had bonded over, at the start.

“Sounds like this Joel guy really wanted you around, huh?” Jesse said teasingly, only grinning when you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Shut up, you asshole, when the hell did you get all wise?” You asked, glaring at him as he feigned an innocent look. You cracked first, smiling at his expression, feeling a softness to the grin as he matched it with one of his own.

“Distance makes the heart grow wiser, I guess.”

“It’s fonder, Jesse. It makes the heart grow fonder.”

“Shut up, I’m the wise one here.”

You looked at Jesse then, as the two of you shared a laugh, and you wondered if this is how friendship felt before the apocalypse, or if that warm feeling in your chest was exclusive to post-apocalyptic relationships.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

“Didn’t think you’d be coming back here.” Joel commented gruffly as he made his way to the kitchen with a nervous energy about him.

“Me neither,” You said idly, watching him fumble around the kitchen. You wondered if it was just a Miller thing, being terrible in the kitchen. It certainly seemed like something Joel and Tommy had in common, but you hadn’t really thought about it when Joel had asked if you wanted some tea, in a bit of a panic at your presence.

He didn’t say anything in response to that, seemingly mulling your words over. Joel didn’t really know what to make of your presence, certainly not expecting to see you at his front door when he opened it.

“Oh, wait,” You said suddenly, causing him to look over to you in the doorway from where he had been about to put tea in the two mugs in front of him. You pulled your backpack around on your shoulder, digging through it for a moment before pulling out a bag. Joel’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked between you and the bag, waiting for an explanation. “Look.” You said, handing it over to him.

He took the bag, opening it up and unable to help the grin that broke onto his face at the sight of coffee beans, the scent of them immediately soothing some of the man’s tension.

“Where’d you get these?” Joel asked you, his voice lighter than you had heard it since Boston. The sound of it made you grin, despite everything.

“Found ‘em on a patrol, a while ago. Been hiding them from Tommy, so don’t tell him.” You responded, realising that this was probably the lightest conversation you and Joel had held for a very long time. How long had it been?

“Wouldn’t dream of it. He’s a thief, always has been.” Joel said, smiling. “Right, the tea.” He said after a moment, placing the bag of coffee beans beside the mugs he’d set out.

You snickered as you noticed the mugs, grinning as Joel turned to you in question. “Seems like Tommy’s not the only thief in the family.” You said, gesturing toward the white and orange mug he’d placed down, recognising it from the batch you’d given Tommy and Maria.

Joel, at least, had the decency to look slightly embarrassed about stealing the orange coloured owl mug you had made and gifted to his brother. Either that, or embarrassed about getting caught. It had slipped his mind, really, more of a habit to grab it out of the cupboard, considering it was the one he used all the time.

He opened his mouth to try and craft some sort of defence, but felt any words he might’ve had die on his tongue as he turned to you. Seeing you smiling, well, it wasn’t exactly an unfamiliar sight. You often smiled at Tommy and Maria when he caught sight of you with the two of them, hell, you smiled a lot around that friend of yours, Jesse. Joel even remembers the times you would smile back in Boston, even though life in the QZ was much harder than life in Jackson.

But it had been a long time since Joel had seen you smile in his presence.

Each time you and Joel interacted after he had left you behind, your face had a way of falling, of crumpling in on itself before it hardened, staring at him with an expression of stone.

It had his heart aching in his chest, finally seeing you smile around him. He hadn’t realised quite how much he had missed it.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, after he stayed silent for a moment too long, the smile on your face fading into something of confusion. Joel shook himself out of his melancholy thoughts, clearing his throat and offering up his best smile in return.

“Nothin’,” Joel answered. “Nothin’ at all.”

You let his response linger in the air between the two of you for a few moments, and it seemed that the both of you were thinking of how life used to be. You were a long way from Boston.

“I could’ve made you your own, y’know.” You said, after a the silence stretched on, reaching out and picking up the mug he had stolen, looking at all the imperfections that had seemed invisible, all that time ago when you had made it. You’d like to believe you were much better in your craft, now.

“I like this one, just fine.” Joel responded, plucking it from your hands with a raised eyebrow. You snickered at his actions, moving to look around the kitchen, missing the soft grin stretched over the man’s face.

“God, you fixed that?” You asked suddenly, taking a wide step to look at the slight imperfection on the countertop, where you remember carving a deep gash in the material one night by shattering a particularly heavy plate upon the counter. You were almost sure it wasn’t fixable, that perhaps it could look better, but would always be extremely noticeable.

Joel nodded, back to his task of sorting out tea, but spoke when realising you were faced away from him. “Oh, yeah. Took me a couple tries, though.”

You hummed in response, going back to looking around the kitchen that you remembered so well. Most of the damage you had caused on the room had been fixed, which created a strange feeling in your chest, though you couldn’t tell quite what it was. Relief? Disappointment?

It wasn’t as hard to be in this house as you had expected it to be. You were awaiting that crushing feeling in your chest, that emptiness that left your ribs aching. Surprisingly, you felt… light, almost.

Joel didn’t know exactly what to expect.

On one hand, he wanted to feel hopeful, to belief that this would be the beginning of your relationship with him healing. But then on the other hand, he was reminded of just how much he had hurt you, of the tears that had spilled from your eyes when he had left you behind, the grit of your teeth when he had returned. He tried his best not to expect anything at all, to just remain… happy that you were here, in this moment.

Even if there were no other moments like this one.

He tried not to focus on how much that thought hurt.

“You and Ellie settled in, then?” You asked, trying to fill the silence in the room. There was also that part of you that wanted to know, that wanted to know everything.

Joel repressed the sigh that built in his chest. “Gettin’ there. She, uh, she’s had a tough time, but you know Ellie. She loves to be gettin’ into everybody’s business.” He refrained from looking in your direction when he asked you the same question. “You settled in alright here?” He wanted to add more on, but thought it best not to try his luck.

“I guess so.” You responded, thinking of how different your life was now, to how it was back in Boston, or even to how it was when you were on the road with Joel and Ellie. “It was… tough at first, but Tommy and Maria were good to me. And I got the shop, so.”

“And that boy?” Joel asked, trying to remain casual, though you heard the suspicion.

You smiled at his question, at the way he avoided looking at you. Back in Boston, when you had been much, much younger, Joel had tried to get the thought into your brain that boys were bad. He was protective of you, and distrustful towards the world. You couldn’t blame him.

“Jesse? He’s, uh, he’s my best friend.” You told the man, shaking your head at the way his shoulders relaxed the smallest bit. “He’s a good guy, you know. I care about him.”

As protective as Joel was, though he knew that he didnt really have any right to be, he couldn’t deny that it was nice that you had a friend your age. That you could count on someone, could trust someone, out of your immediate circle. He remembers that you had been lonely in the QZ, with only him and Tess for company, nobody your age that you could speak to or trust.

It had been a relief, almost, when you and Ellie had developed a friendship on the journey. Joel only hoped that the two of you could have that again.

“I’m happy for you, kiddo.” Joel responded, the nickname coming out almost like a reflex, like it was involuntary. It was what he had always called you, though, so you weren’t surprised.

“Jesse, uh— it was actually Jesse’s idea for me to come here.” You said, and Joel couldn’t deny the relief that spread through him when you didn’t immediately reject the nickname, or pull away at the sound of it.

Joel floundered for a moment, looking for something to say, eventually settling on uttering a quiet, “Sounds like a smart kid.”

You smiled, taking the mug off of Joel as he finally finished making the tea, avoiding your eyes. “I guess.” You replied, cradling the warm ceramic mug tightly in your hands. “Somehow, he seems to know what I need to hear, before even I know.” You said, humour coating your fond tone.

Joel smiled. “Sounds familiar. Tess was always like that, with me.”

It was one of the first times Joel had openly mentioned her name since she died. For some reason, it made your shoulders feel much lighter, like the burden of not being able to talk about her had been weighing you down.

“I miss her.” You confessed, looking for his reaction.

“I do, too, kiddo.” Joel admitted, his words softer than you had ever heard them. You thought about what it must’ve been like for him, to lose the companion he had held as close as he dared for close to two decades. You couldn’t imagine.

You hesitated, opening your mouth, before closing it again, only going ahead when Joel gave you a reassuring nod. “You knew her much better than I ever did.”

“I suppose.”

“Do you think you could… I don’t know, just— just tell me about her, one day?” You asked, the hope in your words making Joel’s heart ache.

“‘Course. I’ll tell you whatever you’d like to know.” Joel said, smiling gently at you, nodding his head towards the living room, a soft look on his face as he sat down beside you on the couch. “Ask away, kiddo.”

You were quiet for a moment, feeling lighter than you had possibly your whole life. “Do you think she’d like pottery?” You asked, sharing a knowing smile with Joel. He laughed at the concept, something so amusing about the idea of Tess Servopoulos, the renowned smuggling boss, sitting in your shop and making dinnerware.

“If it was with you, I reckon she’d have liked anything.” Joel responded, something truthful to his words.

You smiled, and asked more about her.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

if the door wasn’t shut taglist: @sleepylunarwolf @am-i-shit-or-am-i-the-shit @mandowhatnow @aphrcdites @doodlebob-mp3 @rrickgrrimes8 @nikt-wazny-y @fallenoutofrose @wrathofcats @kakimakiloh @pinkpurplepuffs @ameagrice @optimisticprime3 @httpjiikook @hnslchw @ioonatv @ackermanbitch @jay1bird23 @martinsmomo @brilliantopposite187 @calumhoodssidehoe @truthfuleeyours @code-roevember @cappucinolia @wrappedinfiction @angelmenace @your-shifting-gurl @gimalo135 @xaimary @v-linelicker @imonmykneessir @kayler-23 @dilfdemolisher @pedropascalslilbaby @rh1nestonecowg1rl @randomstory56 @ipadkidsworld @kobababysblog @wren-ly @morganfullaaa @theyoutubedork

[maybeiwasjustjade]

This is the last time I’m gonna talk about this topic, mostly because it’s hiatus era and I would like to be able to write fics without outrightly bashing s2 Alicent, but I do think it needs to be said.

There’s nothing defendable in what Alicent did when she gave up her entire family on a silver platter for Rhaenyra.

So many takes about how we—the ones who found that scene abominable and abhorrent—misread the scene, or purposefully misinterpreted just to hate her; that what Alicent did was a good thing because it would have spared her entire family if only she let Aegon die. Giving up Criston and Gwayne’s location to be slaughtered (in what is most likely going to be Butcher’s Ball) wasn’t the intention; Alicent would never do that to her family and this was the only way to ensure survival en yada yada yada.

Yet the only person she said anything about saving was Helaena and Jaehaera, the latter of which is still continued to be dehumanized by no one referring to her as anything but ‘child’. Alicent put no thought towards Daeron—her innocent 16 year old son, who has done nothing—who was now joining a war that she started by declaring his brother king. Daeron, who’s flying alongside the Hightower army, in a war that will not end just because the Dowager Queen decided enough was enough. Who might die, and actually will die, before he ever sees his family again.

And even if she believes Rhaenyra executing Aegon would end the war (which it won’t), what made s2 Alicent think that the deaths would stop there?

A son for a son? Rhaenyra didn’t even remember that Jaehaerys had already been murdered for Luke. What made Alicent think that Rhaenyra would spare fucking Aemond of all people??? Aemond, who killed Luke and Rhaenys, who’s now Prince Regent because Aegon’s heir is dead? Who rides Vhagar, and would rather burn the world down than cleave to Rhaenyra? Who’s committed the majority of the crimes that make up Team Green? No, Aemond will have to die.

Daeron will have to die.

Jaehaerys, had he lived, would have to die anyway.

Maelor if he existed too.

Otto, Criston, Gwayne—all dead by virtue of being active participants and commanders in TG.

The only way Rhaenyra can claim that throne and ensure she can hold it is by eliminating the rival claimants, down to the youngest son.

That was something s1 Alicent knew, had raised her son on the belief they would die if their sister ascended, before the writers butchered her to a million pieces and left a caricature in her place. The claims go down son to son before it reaches daughters, which meant killing Aegon wouldn’t stop Rhaenyra’s troubles. She’d have to go after his sons and brothers too before the throne is legally hers.

There is no version of this story, where war has already started and a king crowned, that would end with little bloodshed beyond the death of said king.

In a different world, an argument could be made to spare some of them. If Rhaenyra had ascended untouched, then perhaps deals could’ve been made. Aegon would still have to die, I’d imagine. Take the Black at minimum, with Jaehaerys following in his footsteps as an adult or perhaps the Citadel. As long as Aegon’s line persisted, there would always be a chance of rebellion happening once Jace becomes king. So that whole line would have to be removed.

Aemond and Daeron would be less dangerous, but there would be little chance they’d be spared. The Black for Aemond, because I can’t see him agreeing to be a Kingsguard. Daeron would go to the Citadel without question. Jaehaera would either be married into the main line via Aegon III like in canon, or Rhaenyra would arrange for her to marry Jace to solidify his claim. He’d have a better claim through Jaehaera than Baela, after all.

And even then, that was still best case scenario. Worst case they’re all executed to protect Jace. Because Rhaenyra’s reign might somehow be mediocre and peaceful (really she has no makings of a great queen), but Jace’s will be a landmine. Between two legitimate brothers and no sisters to marry them to and trueborn cousins and uncles, Jace’s ascension was going to be a massive clusterfuck that would make the Dance look like a play.

[mournings-stars]

Lute x Charlie’s Best Friend

from this request by @lixanjewel

i may need to make a part two cus i kinda love this little enemies to lovers flirtation-situation-ship

this is a fem reader but i’ll happily write anything else as well!! :)

A meeting in Heaven was never something you expected. And you certainly didn’t expect Charlie to ask you to come with her — sure, you’d known each other since you were kids, and sure, you were the first person to support her ideas before Vaggie, and sure, you did a lot of planning…

Maybe you did have a right to go with them—

“Of course you do!” Charlie snapped you out of your thoughts as she packed her suitcase, yours (a backpack) packed and in your hands as you waited for her while you, apparently, thought out loud. “We’re gonna have so much fun!” She was bouncing in place, shutting her suitcase before she turned to you. “And you are gonna be so proud of yourself when we show them this dream is real! I couldn’t have done this without you!” You gave her a small smile before Vaggie came in. “Either of you!”

The rest of the morning was spent saying goodbye, getting that one wall destroyed, and sending your friends off with the person who destroyed it before you entered the portal to Heaven.

After making it past the gates, meeting Saint Peter, Sera, and Emily, you were touring with Charlie while Vaggie stayed at the hotel, the trip seeming to be taking a toll on her. To put it simply, she was in an awful mood, looking like she was going to be sick.

“Look, look, look!” Charlie squealed, pointing at a very fluffy white animal as she grabbed your arm.

That was how your entire trip to the zoo went before you got lunch with Emily, who was the one showing you around. She got the two of you food and drinks and when you went to sit, you cautiously excused yourself to continue looking around while they talked.

You took your drink with you as you walked the promenade, taking in the environment. It made you wonder what it’d be like if things were different — if you were born in Heaven rather than Hell.

“Enjoying your visit?” You were startled out of your thoughts by a girl dressed in all grey. Even her blunt cut hair was a pale grey. You recognized the uniform as an exorcist’s, but you had half a mind to think you were jumping to conclusions without the horns and X over her eye to prove it, but her eyes were gold — and they look far too warm to be so menacing. “Lute,” she introduced before the silence became awkward, sticking her hand out.

“Pretty,” was the first thing that came to your mind. She raised a very judgmental brow at you. “I meant your name… is pretty — well, actually, no, that’s not what I meant, but it is… pretty — like the instrument.” Her brow relaxed, and you sighed, feeling less like Charlie and her bundle of excited nerves and more like yourself and your internal bundle of excited nerves. You introduced yourself and took her hand, shaking with a smile. “I’m usually not so nervous,” you said.

“New environment,” she shrugged. “Why don’t we walk,” she suggested and brought her hand to your back to turn you in the direction you’d been going before she stopped you. “I thought only two of you were coming.”

“Charlie asked me to go with her for moral support.” Lute nodded along. “Childhood friends and all…”

“You’re Hell-born, then,” it was more of a statement than a question, but you nodded anyway. “Shame,” she muttered. “Maybe her little redemption idea could’ve actually worked with you.”

You paused. Surely, she was insulting you. “I should’ve realized,” you said, taking a second look at this angel. She wasn’t just a pretty girl wearing a uniform that resembled an exorcist uniform; it was an exorcist uniform and their LED light masks came with artificial horns. That meant if she knew about the reason for your visit, she was the one that was there during Charlie’s first meeting. And suddenly, the name, “Lute,” sounded very familiar from one of Charlie’s rants.

“I did introduce myself,” she said haughtily, “not that I expect a low-class demon to pick up context clues—“

“Oh, shut up,” you groaned. Her very pretty eyes, which looked like gold, now looked like… corn — or something — (it was the meanest thing you could think of), and her very pretty name, which sounded like music, now sounded like some kind of crime you would expect from an exorcist angel.

Lute laughed, taking pause for a moment before she did and nearly doubling over as she walked with you.

“Are you insane?” You asked with a sneer that made her laugh harder.

“No one’s ever told me to shut up like that.” She calmed herself down, snickering to herself. “Insane,” she laughed. “You must be, thinking you can speak to an angel like that.”

“Must be.”

And despite that, she kept walking with you. Neither of you knew where you were walking toward, but you kept walking anyway, her with her nose in the air and a pompous smile, and you looking anywhere but at her.

Finally, you broke the silence, “Were you following me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Orders.”

“Why me?”

“Orders,” she emphasized like you were stupid.

“I heard you,” you mocked her tone. “But why the orders to follow me?” Then a very snarky idea popped into your mind as you smirked at her. “Unless you just blindly follow orders like some little bitch on a leash—“

“Do you want to die?”

It was your turn to laugh, shrugging. “You couldn’t hurt me if you tried.”

That, she didn’t respond to. Instead, she rolled her eyes and looked away. “Adam wanted to know why you were actually here, seeing as the hearing only includes the princess and her…” She waved her hand dismissively, a look of disgust on her face.

“Partner?”

She shook her head, scoffing. “That relationship is vile.”

You scoffed the same. “Is that something that keeps people out of Heaven, too?” You asked curiously, thinking of the many sinners you knew who seemed nice enough. “Vile relationships like theirs?” Lute frowned at you, looking confused.

“Oh, right,” she said, like she knew something you didn’t, and laughed. “You think I mean because they’re both girls, but thats not it.”

“It’s not?” You raised a brow and took a very long sip of your drink.

“Of course not. They just disgust me.” You laughed ironically, seeing no other answer for her hatred. “I don’t care how they choose to live their lives,” she insisted.

“You don’t need to convince me. We all have our assumptions of what Heaven thinks of people like us. I’m sure some of the… what do you call them? Winners? Said the same things when they were alive.”

Lute looked very uncomfortable, crossing her arms over her chest and looking down at the floor. “No one who thinks like that would be allowed into Heaven.”

“Doubt it. Did you have orders to talk to me, too?” You moved on quickly, making her chew the inside of her cheek.

“Unfortunately.” She huffed. “You do a lot of the princess’ research, don’t you?” You hummed. “Interviews?”

“I don’t like talking to people—“

“Clearly—“

“—who don’t like talking to me.”

“I can tell.” Her uncomfortable expression dropped and she laughed under her breath. “I’m glad I won't have to see you in court later. I don’t know how I’d respond to your accusatory defense.”

“Good thing Charlie didn’t want to take my advice for this, then.”

And Lute stopped walking very abruptly. She gave you a very kind smile and said, “I enjoyed our chat. Thanks for your time.” She looked very pleased, like she made you admit something to help her case.

“You’re welcome for the information,” you said lamely. “Charlie will achieve what she wants, Lute,” you said as she began to walk away.

“Not without your help,” and when she said your name, you quickly turned away from her golden eyes staring you down and walked back to Charlie and Emily.

There was absolutely no way you were about to (extremely gayly) overthink what was barely a conversation with a girl you didn’t like because of one sentence that wasn’t even a compliment.

Absolutely not. No way. Not happening—

“What girl is it this time?” You nearly shrieked when you heard Charlie, having walked all the way back to her and Emily where they were laughing.

“Charlie told me you have a talent for falling in love,” Emily giggled with Charlie. “Did you meet someone?”

“Or are you just talking to yourself?” Charlie teased, laughing.

Of course, all you could think to say was, “shut up,” which made you think back to the not-conversation you had with Lute. “Don’t we have a hearing to prepare for, or something?!”

[fireflyinks]

oh my god i can’t stop thinking about riding hamzah’s thighs .. is there anyway u can incorporate that into a fic 🙏

need your attention

hamzah x reader

a/n : okay this is a little 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 so beware, but tysm for this request i LOVED writing it, thigh riding is so 😋

contains : needy!reader, afab!reader, praise, no p in v, thigh riding ofc, pet names (baby, sweetheart, good girl), established relationship, Hamzah is kinda mean at first but he apologizes

18+ MINORS DNI

I watched as Hamzah sat at his desktop, clicking and typing away, editing the next slushynoobz video. I normally wouldn’t have been bugged by this, but I had now been laying on his bed for three hours waiting for him to finish.

Crossing my arms, I huffed, hoping this could catch his attention. It didn’t, of course, since he was too entranced in his video and had on the chunkiest headphones I had seen in my entire life.

I tried to be patient, scrolling on my phone until my eyes stung, and yet he still sat at his computer, clueless.

I think what bothered me the most is that he was the one who invited me over, just to not give me an ounce of attention.

Sighing, I finally stood up and walked over to him. I stood beside him, and after a few seconds he looked up at me and moved a headphone off his ear. “Hi baby, you okay?”

“When are you gonna to be done editing?” I asked flatly, almost cutting him off.

He shrugged, looking at his screen. “I don’t know. It could be another hour.”

My mouth fell open, “Hamzah, why do you invite me over just to pay no attention to me? I could be at home right now, doing something productive, instead of waiting on you.”

My words came out harsher than I had intended. I always tried to not lecture Hamzah over little things like this, but I was fed up.

“Why don’t you leave then?” He snapped, not looking up from his computer.

Hamzah never spoke to me this harshly either, and I felt my throat tightening as I nodded and walked away from him. He wanted me to leave? Fine.

“Wait sweetheart…” he called after me, standing up from his desk for the first time in three hours.

I silently grabbed my stuff, and was walking towards the bedroom door. He grabbed my hand and stopped me. Looking up at him, I could tell that he felt bad, so I stopped myself from leaving.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, I don’t want you to leave. I’ll wrap it up, okay?”

I nodded, “Can I sit on your lap?”

Hamzah smiled, “Of course you can.”

The two of us walked back over to his desk, and I watched as he sat back down, patting his lap. I smiled, sitting down.

As minutes passed, I tried to be patient and wait for him to finish. As he peered past my head, his eyes once again glued to his computer, I watched as his arms flex ever so often, typing on his keys and moving his mouse. It was a tiny detail, one that I wouldn’t have notice while I was still sitting on his bed. But now that I was on his lap, his movements seemed to infatuate me.

My eyes grazed his body, trying to talk in more small details. I’d admired Hamzah before, and noticed things the way he said “what are” (water), and how his cheeks puffed out when he was trying to keep himself from laughing, but those were just cute. The things I was noticing now were more than cute, they were erotic, and had me rubbing my thighs together.

His arms flexing, the way his long fingers typed at the keys, his hands just in general. I shifted a bit, trying to ease the sensation at my core.

I looked down, biting my lip as I saw Hamzah’s thighs.

It was the middle of summer, about 70 degrees all day long, so Hamzah had worn shorts. When he was sat, his shorts came up a bit, exposing even more of his thigh. I cursed under my breath, realizing how dirty what I was planning on doing truly was.

I adjusted myself, moving to where I was straddling his right thigh, and began dragging my aching core back and forth on him. I tried my best to go slow, not wanting to interrupt Hamzah’s editing time.

“You could’ve just told me if you were feeling needy, sweetheart.”

I paused my motions, looking back at him.

“Well don’t stop on my account. I do have a request though…”

Humming, I turned around so that I was now facing him. “Anything.”

“How about you take that skirt and these panties off, hm? I wanna feel that pussy on me.”

My jaw dropped a bit before I nodded vigorously, standing up and sliding the two articles off of me. I sat back down on his thigh, straddling him.

He was never this forward, and it was turning me on a bit too much.

“Much better,” he cooed. I bit my lip, beginning to move back and forth on him once again.

Hamzah was always the dominant one in the bedroom, but it was almost alarming to me how comfortable he was with this, and how quickly he took charge.

Smalls noises escaped my lips as I moved on him, chasing a release he wasn’t providing me himself.

His eyes were still on the screen, but flicked back to me every few seconds, watching as I pleased myself on him. I could tell he was struggling to not focus on me, but he had a point to prove and a video to edit. My cheeks burned, trying to ignore how humiliating this act truly was.

“Feel good?” He said in a husky voice. I nodded, continuing to move back and forth on him.

“You’re so needy for me baby. Couldn’t even wait for me to get finished editing, you just needed to get you off, hm?”

I whined in response.

He was getting an ego boost from this, but that didn’t make me want to stop.

“That’s it, make yourself feel good on my thigh. Be my good girl.”

Looking down at his shorts, I could see an evident tent forming at his crotch.

“Hamzah…” I whined, grinding down on him harder than usual.

He hummed, typing on his keyboard.

“Need your attention, please.”

Hamzah looked away from his computer, leaning down and kissing my lips. He pulled away, “I know baby, why don’t you finish on my thigh and I’ll give you all the attention in the world?”

His pupils were blown with lust, trailing my face. I nodded, and after a few seconds, I finished on his leg.

“There you go,” Hamzah encouraged, stroking my own exposed thigh with his thumb as I came down from my high.

I basically collapsed onto his chest, hiding my face in the crook of his neck.

“I liked that… a lot.” I mumbled, closing my eyes.

Hamzah smiled softly, “Me too, princess.”

I felt him stand up, holding onto my thighs as he picked me up with him. “Now let me take care of my girl.”

[denwritesandcries]

One rock a day keeps the Wilderness away – L.M

Pairing: lottie matthews x fem!reader

Summary: The last thing you expected to happen after a plane crash was for your girlfriend to end up becoming some kind of cult leader fascinated by amulets made of the weirdest and shiny things like a damn owl, yet here you are.

Word count: 1,7k.

Content: 96/wilderness timeline, cursing, pet names, fluff and corny, comfort, skeptic!reader, lottie and reader are secretly little haters.

Note: I guess you could say that I simply love writing fluff and cuddles.

English is not my first language.

If there was one thing everyone at Wiskayok High School was aware of, it was that Lottie Matthews was rich as fuck.

She always wore the most expensive clothes, there was a driver who picked her up at the door and took her everywhere, her house was simply giant and some dare to say that a butler was the one who met them at the door and served them drinks on the nights she had her parties.

The thing is, Lottie was a bit... weird, for a rich girl, which meant that she wasn't as popular at school as she could’ve been. She didn't exactly fit the bad girl role, but she wasn't quite a preppy either, with her extravagant bows and tiaras being the most luxurious thing she would actively display. She was distant at best.

This made you, at the beginning of your relationship, try to spoil her in every way possible, not being able to believe that this sweet and out of reach person could reciprocate your feelings so genuinely when she could have just anyone, so, in addition to showering her with affection, you also showered her with gifts. Accessories, especially. Earrings, necklaces, bracelets, until you understand that jewelry really wasn't her thing, since despite accepting everything with affection, she simply left them stored insisting that you didn't spend your money on it. Lottie was much more appreciative of the little things you gave and did for her.

Now, the last thing you expected was for her to develop a taste for accessories in the damn wilderness of all places.

“Baby, I’m not wearing a necklace with a damn bone hanging from it to go hunting.”

It turns out that, like almost everything involving Lottie, her way of demonstrating her new preferences – maybe hobbies? – was also not very usual and you hadn't exactly taken anything of the royal jewelry type for a trip that was supposed to be quick.

“But I chose and made it for you! Will keep you safe out there, I feel it.”

Oh, yeah. There was also the fact that your girlfriend was perhaps slowly going a little mad and becoming the leader of a religious cult that your teammates were a part of and that she wanted you to participate too.

“Jesus Christ, Lot.”

You didn't want to encourage her. The worry was eating you alive and it's only gotten worse since she confided in you that she finally ran out of her meds.

You, unlike your other teammates, were aware that the things Lottie said or did lately were much more influenced by her own condition than any other truly supernatural factor – as much as you couldn't deny that the cabin and the forest gave you goosebumps –, which made you really stressed and irritable with all your friends as they started to believe in things that didn't exist and put pressure on your girlfriend for answers as if she were some kind of prophet.

You managed to keep everything under control and keep her from straying too far from reality to a certain point, but then the whole situation with the group being attacked and Van being seriously injured happened and so nothing you did could convince Lottie that there was nothing what she could have done about it and that only seemed to encourage her more when the redhead recovered enough to confide you all that she should have listened to the feeling Lottie had and that she felt safer with the “amulet” she received from her.

The result is that you are now the target of Lottie's worries and she insists that you wear the charms and trinkets she makes.

It's actually quite cute, you've caught her once or twice sitting by the fire trying to figure out how to tie a knot that won't snap the cord, her eyes glazed over and focused. You could use it, as bizarre as it would be, if it was just a silly gift from your girlfriend, but since that's not what it is, you don't want to put even more things in her head in case something actually happens.

“But then what’s going to protect you when you leave?” Lottie asks, head tilted to the side in alarm and you can only notice how her bangs fall over her eyes in a messy and cute way.

“Maybe the gun I always carry with me?”

However, it was becoming difficult not to encourage her in any way, because aside from bones or occasionally some different plants, Lottie also seemed to see signs in anything that stood out a little, like the bright and colorful rocks you had made a habit of bringing at her, guarding everything that caught her attention like a damn owl.

It started as a silly thing, with a cracked and shiny rock you found near the lake the day you guys found the cabin, you cleaned it and handed it to her with a shy smile, like it was one of your gifts back home, just to cheer her up a little and since then she kept the rock with her at all times – even if sometimes she woke up twitching because she ended up lying against it in the middle of the night. That seemed to turn the key and over the next few days you noticed that she spent time looking for new types nearby the house and so you committed to bringing all the pretty items she might like when you went on your hunts with Natalie, from strange rocks to little crystals lost along the way, just because she looked so happy when you handed them to her.

You think her cute gesture turned into more of a paranoia like 'one rock a day keeps the wilderness away', but at least it makes her more relaxed and happy on days when everything is bad.

One day you return to the cabin with Natalie in tow looking very upset because you've come back empty-handed again and your head is drooping with exhaustion and frustration. When you finally enter Lottie is waiting for you with an appreciative, warm look in her face.

“Did you get anything?” she asks, wrapping her arm around you and guiding you both to your usual corner so you can sit side by side.

You mumble negatively and bury your head in her neck. She rephrases the question when she notices your discouragement:

“Did you get anything for me?”

You sigh, smiling at her, “That I did.”

Lottie watches you curiously as you move to take something out of your pocket and show it to her and you notice the exact moment she registers what’s in your hand.

“A quartz.” She takes it from you like it’s the most fragile thing in the world, “It’s a pink quartz.”

“Is it?” You ask, stifling a yawn with your hand, “I don't know a thing about those stones and stuff, just thought it was pretty and you would like it.”

“Well, I do like it very much. Thank you.” Lottie gives you a soft smooch on the cheek, “And it's not a stone, baby, it's more like a gem or a crystal.”

“Hmm,” you hum in agreement.

She leans her entire weight against your body and smiles innocently when you complain: “Misty told me the other day that gems like that mean peace and unconditional love.”

“You've been talking to Misty? About rocks and gems?” You look at her in disbelief.

“I feel really lonely without you here with me, you know?” Lottie shrugged.

You felt a little guilty and moved closer, leaving a kiss on her shoulder.

“I'm sorry, Lot. I miss you when I'm away too,” you murmur, rubbing her arm in comfort, “Why don't you tell me about your day?”

Lottie rolls her eyes in a way that reminds you so much of the days when you guys would get together to talk shit about everyone you knew in these stupid parties that your heart skips a beat.

“Ugh, if I hear Mari complain about one more damn thing, I’m going to tell you to stop chasing bears and order everyone to serve her for dinner.”

“Please, don’t.” You snort a dumbfounded laugh, “They might actually do it.”

You end up lying down with her curled up and facing you, gently drawing small circles on your hand.

“Got something in your mind?”, you brush some strands of hair from her face affectionately.

“I just have no idea what to do with… them,” she shrugs hesitantly.

You know what she means immediately and move to take her face in your hands, feeling her lean into your touch.

“Oh, Lottie.”

“I know what you and Nat do for us is very important, but I wish you didn't have to,” she mumbles, as if she were confiding a secret, getting impossibly close to you. “I wish you would stay here, with me, where it is safe. Is it too selfish? Want to keep you all to myself?”

You let out a shaky breath, not trusting your own voice when you can feel her breath against your lips like this.

“Well, if Shauna can hide her diary in the attic like a freak then I guess you're allowed to keep some things to yourself too, hun.” You stutter, feeling your skin heat up in embarrassment.

“But you're not a thing.” Lottie wrinkles her nose.

“You can keep me anyway, I don’t mind.” You shrug this time, faking indifference to make her laugh.

And she does, “Babe!”

Just when everything is silent and you think Lottie has slept with your legs wrapped around hers and using your arm as a pillow, she speaks again:

“You know, my new quartz would make a really cute necklace.”

“Lot,” you yawn against her hair.

“Will you use it if I make one?” She looks at you, blinking her big brown eyes in the most convincing way possible, “Just this one, please, for me?”

You sigh, “Yes, Lottie. I'll use your magic stone.”

She deflates, “Don’t talk about it like it’s crack, babe.”

Lottie kisses you slower than usual before you leave as she finally notices the pink gem hanging from your neck and you happily ignore Natalie's mockery as you run after her to catch up to the forest.

[specialagentlokitty]

Hotch x reader - everybody’s favourite

Your Hotch with CEO!Reader was one of the best things i’ve read !! Would you be up to doing a part 2 where the team actually meet her? Like she could’ve gotten them all gifts or something and either she’s invited for food at Rossi’s or they’re invited to her place? I love your writing so much <3 - Anon💜

Part two:

Hotch kept bringing up to you that his team wanted to meet you, they were curious about you.

He didn’t want to force you into meeting them and left the decision completely up to you.

You liked the sound of finally meeting his team, so you had asked him to invite them all for dinner at the end of the week.

That’s how you ended stood in the kitchen with Jack stood on a chair next to you as he handed you potatoes from the bag for you to wash and peel them.

“Have you done your homework?” You asked.

“Yup, I did it while you were bringing shopping in. Where’s dad?”

You looked down at him.

“He’s still at work, they’re running a little late, but it gives us time to get everything ready.”

He grinned from ear to ear as he nodded.

You carried on preparing everything while Jack ran away to go play games to pass some time.

You carried on cooking, getting the table in the dining room all set up and ready for when they arrived.

It wasn’t long until Hotch came home, he went to see Jack first, spending some time speaking to him and playing a couple of games.

Then he made his way to the kitchen, wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Hey.” You said gently.

You gently lifted your head, letting him press a kiss to your cheek.

“You’ve been busy.” He said.

“Did Jack tell on me? He said he’d keep it a secret.” You laughed.

Hotch chuckled a little bit.

You turned around in his arms, taking him by his tie so you could pull him down for a kiss before you let him go.

“Go away, I’ve got this.”

“I don’t doubt that, but I want to help so give me a job to do.”

You smiled a little.

“You know your team better, so do you want to pick the drinks first the night?”

“That I can do.”

He kissed your forehead and made his way to the cupboard, opening the door so he could walk in and browse your selection of drinks before setting a few bottles on the table.

Then he got some glasses and did the same with them as well.

When the doorbell went he left to go and answer it, and you walked into the dining room, setting a large plate down.

The team had only managed to get a glimpse of you before you went back into the kitchen.

“This place is huge!” A woman gushed.

You laughed a little bit hearing her, and you set a few more plates down in the counter next to the door for Hotch to bring through.

He walked in, picking them up for you.

“Are you ever going to come meet everybody?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m coming.”

Grabbing your drink, you trailed after him, using his taller frame to hide you from them as you slipped to the other side of the room.

You set your glass down on the fireplace and crouched down, placing another log on to the fire.

“(Y/N)?”

You turned around to look at the boy.

“Hey buddy, what’s up?”

“Do you have any juice?”

You nodded, giving a bright smile as you stood up, gesturing for him to follow you.

You got him some juice, and you led him back to everybody else where finally all eyes were on you.

Walking back over to your drink and you picked it up, making your way to your boyfriend next, and you stood just in front of him.

Everybody took you in, expensive clothes, but you weren’t really flaunting your money, they were nice and fitting for the occasion.

Hotch pointed them all out for you, letting know who was who.

“Oh my god you must be the mysterious (Y/N)!” Garcia gasped.

You gave a slight grin, giving a small nod of your head.

“That I am, it’s nice to finally meet you all. I hope you’ve been enjoying the gifts I gave you.”

“They were amazing, thank you.” JJ smiled.

You gestured to the table, letting them all sit down before you began serving their food for them.

Sitting down, you set your glass down as well.

“How can you afford all of it? It must get expensive after a while.” Emily laughed.

“Well, it does, but that doesn’t matter to me. I’m the CEO of ann international company, I have more money than I know what to do with so I like to get other people things.”

“Why not donate it?” Reid asked.

You shot him a grin.

“I do, I donate quite a lot actually. I don’t need so much money.”

“Selfless huh?” Rossi chuckled.

Hotch laughed a little, nodding his head in agreement.

“Honestly it’s a fight trying to get (Y/N) to buy anything for themselves, they actually had to go shopping for nice clothes for tonight.”

“Seriously?!” Garcia gasped.

You gave a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of your head as you nodded.

“Yeah, sometimes I forget that for certain occasions you have to dress up nicely, like when you’re meeting your boyfriend’s family. Most of the time if I’m not working I’m usually wearing a tracksuit.”

This man them all laugh, and you grinned a little bit.

“I mean it’s not like money lasts forever right? No point focusing on it.”

“That’s a good point.” Derek said.

You carried on talking to them, asking them all questions so you could get to know them all, and Hotch just sat there watching with a smile on his face.

He was a little nervous about you all meeting, but he was more than glad that you all got along, and he was hoping you could start coming to more functions.

When the team went back to talking to each other you looked over at Hotch, finding him already looking at you and you grinned brightly.

He shuffled his chair over a little, placing his hand on your knee.

“I like them, they seem fun.” You whispered.

“I’m glad, maybe we could meet them all more?” He whispered back.

Taking his hand, you brought it up and kissed his knuckles.

“Of course…”

He smiled, running his thumb along your knuckles, holding your hand on the table as he went back to talking to the rest of his team while you happily sat there listening

[eveningepiphany]

welcome to the final show | H.S, part 4

my masterlist!

summary: suddenly it’s not just you and harry anymore, and not only do the general media want an explanation, but so do your friends and family. however, the two of you are only just figuring things out yourselves.

warnings: paparazzi, anxiety surrounding leaked images, fluff, comforting, confessions, make out session, sexual content!

a/n: no because i am so thrilled for you all to read this. these two are so much fun to write about. I hope you enjoy <3

(I was on the fence about including smut, but I decided i wanted to! if that’s not something you want to read, a little warning will come up when it’s about to begin. plot wise you won’t miss anything if you choose not to read it!)

———

There’s a certain type of love that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.

And it’s an all consuming kind. One that when you think about it you feel it to the bone.

And oh, had you done a lot of thinking. Overthinking was pretty much all you’ve been doing the past two weeks.

You obviously are attracted to Harry. Physically, emotionally… just in every sense of the word. That’s nothing new for you. And even throughout the points of denial since forming a personal relationship with him. It’s the truth.

You’ve probably gaslit yourself out of it more times then you could count. However picture evidence of you holding hands with him in the homely streets of Italy is kind of a slap to the face.

And despite how cute you think the photos may be, you are still inexplicably panicked about them.

It’s the morning after the photos got posted. And you are genuinely still in shock. You struggled to fall asleep last night after the images first came out— your brain in complete overdrive for god knows how long until you fell asleep.

And this morning you’re ignoring the influx of messages and calls you’re getting from family, friends, and people you’ve met through love on tour.

Several texts from your own sister coming through half an hour ago. All of them including the word ‘fuck’. Shes definitely mad you didn’t tell her this had happened.

Either way, you’re left pacing the length of your hotel room. Heart still near racing in your chest as you try to figure out what to do, and how to handle something like this.

You held hands with him, you remind yourself. You didn’t get caught making out with him… the act for you came across as still something bordering platonic— even though you wished it were anything but that. This could eventually blow over.

You sigh out, leaning against the wall of your hotel, this was considerably more simple when the rest of the population had no idea it was happening.

Now they do, and they have a lot of questions. Plus, it makes it significantly harder when it’s about things you don’t even have answers to.

Harry hadn’t messaged you since everything had happened. If he even knows is beyond you.

But it felt wrong talking to anyone about it without talking to him first.

You felt a sense of guilt. Because this easily will stir up drama for him. Stuff like this spreads so fast, and you’ve seen it happen 100 times. But now you’re no longer in the back seat just watching it unfold. There will be articles, posts, even snippets in the newspapers about it. And whether or not it’s something he’s accustomed to, you still feel at fault. Like you could’ve been more careful, more considerate.

You move to sit on the edge of your unmade bed, staring at your phone that you’ve left on the bench top. How do you even approach it? What do you say to him?

You quickly decide you don’t really want to, at the moment. There is too much going through your head, and you’re still a bit freaked out about it all.

So another anxiety shower is. Which for right now, is your best and favourite option.

Standing up, you head to the bathroom, leaving your phone out in the room, allowing it to continue buzzing while you decide it’s time for some hardcore self-care to calm yourself down.

On the other side of things, Harry is also freaking out. He woke up to texts from a couple people, asking about a headline?

And for people he knows personally to be reaching out about trashy posts on the media, it’s almost always a bad sign.

One being from James, who has been off ‘The Late Late Show’ too long for him to withhold himself from making bad jokes when they present themselves.

Are they even allowed to put that many exclamation marks in the title? Overkill if you ask me. 😪😪

But when he reads the link and sees the image of himself with you, his anxiety immediately shifts from being personal.

[ 1 attachment link] : Styles Has Found His Next Musical Muse, But She’s Actually a ‘Hardcore Fangirl!!!’”

He’s almost positive you will have seen the leaked images. There is no way you would have missed this unless you were still sleeping.

Guilt nearly slaps him in the face. You do not deserve this. He already knows that you’re probably being slammed on Twitter and in comments of these pathetic articles.

And that is never nice. He hates it enough when it’s himself, and that’s after a decade of learning how to deal with it.

His concern for you leads to a text, one he doesn’t want to make, but does anyway. Purely for the fact he needs to know you’re alright.

Because the worst thing that could happen is you having some kind of anxiety attack after reading something online, and not having anyone there to be with you to talk you down. Regardless of how confident you can appear to him, he’s not taking the chance.

Hi love, can you please let me know you’re alright?

He sends it through, and then he typed out another one after it’s been about five long minutes without a reply.

I am very possibly overreacting right now, but do you need me to come over?

Another ten minutes go by,

I’ll be over in about 15. x

He is aware this may be over the top. You could be asleep. You could be just processing what’s happened— since he still remembers the first time things like this happened to him. And it’s a really weird experience.

But he is undeniably protective of you. That is one thing he can’t lie about.

And even more-so, he’s terrified this will scare you off. Because if it’s too much for you, he has no clue how he’d deal with it. Since it’s way too far out of his hands now.

Even though he knew well that this was a easily plausible situation. And it’s almost surprising how long they’ve gone without it happening earlier.

In his own time, he’s been overthinking plenty too. Wondering if it’s normal to want to lay your entire life down for someone two weeks after meeting them.

Maybe if he were 16… but pushing 30… it might be a bit harder to justify.

But somehow, despite knowing how stupid he probably seems, he leaves his bedroom after throwing on some shorts and a tshirt. Going out and grabbing the keys for his car from the kitchen.

Gemma is out there cooking toast, and she turns around to see him near running out the door.

“Harry!” She says, and when he stops to give her a quick greeting she interrupts him.

“Don’t worry so much.” She sighs.

Immediately confused, he frowns, frozen in place, “what…?”

“I’m assuming that this Y/N you’ve been on about really likes you too, okay? There’s no way she doesn’t. So just treat it like any other relationship or friendship you have. No matter the circumstances you met under. If you like her, you like her. Don’t let shit from the media get to either of you.”

Her advice comes just when he needs it, as it always does. And even though he acts like she doesn’t, she knows almost everything there is to know.

A small nod, “Thank you Gem…”

She gives him a warm smile, one that’s always encouraged him.

———

You hear the knock on the door while you’re standing in the bathroom, finishing applying a face mask. Stood clad in your shorts and black boob tube.

And after finally calming down a bit, it gives you another wave of panic. Since after waiting a few moments, the rapping on the door continues. You were hoping they would just go away, whoever it was.

You quietly leave your bathroom, going down the short hallway to look through the peephole in the door.

You don’t even get your eye up to it before you hear the all too familiar voice on the other side.

“Y/N, it’s Harry…” He was a bit muffled, but you didn’t even think as you start unlatching the locks on the door.

The look of relief on his face when you finally peek out is almost palpable.

“Hi…” you say quietly, pulling the door open further, letting him come in quickly.

He has two cups in his hands, and once he’s inside your room, he is fast to place them on the nearest free space.

“What are you—“ you don’t get through the sentence before he breaches the distance between you, tugging you into a hug, uncaring of the face mask residue getting on his shirt.

He squeezes you, “‘M so glad y’alright.”

You take a deep breath. So, he knows.

You feel immediately bad for not letting him know earlier, before he felt the need to come over.

“Did you call me? I’m so sorry, i was in the—”

“I texted you couple times— don’t be sorry. I don’t want it to seem weird I came rushing over… i was jus’ worried about you.”

You slowly draw back, “I was going to text you, I just didn’t want to… i didn’t know how to go about it, i guess?”

He pulls away, “I am so fuckin’ sorry this happened.”

“Why are you apologising? I should be…”

“Why should you apologise? You of all people do not deserve to be dissected by people in the media. Ive dragged you into something you didn’t deserve to be dragged into.” He says, sounding exasperated.

“You aren’t at fault for any of this, H. I feel like I’ve stirred up unnecessary drama up for you…” To this he immediately shakes his head.

“You haven’t. I was just worried about how you’d perceive it all… and fuck— i didn’t want it to scare you off.”

You both seem to realise that you were freaking out over each other. Starting to laugh together, realising how stupid you both probably sound.

“Okay… we sound really silly.” You sigh, moving to grab the cup he’d placed down prior to your very quick debrief.

“But seriously, Harry,” you lead him over to sit down on the edge of your bed with you, “I am still sorry. I feel like I’ve caused unnecessary… assumptions.”

He frowns a little, “assumptions?”

“About us. You know…” you shrug, eyes avoiding him, doing a terrible job at acting nonchalant.

“That we’re together? That what you’re so shy about, hm?” He teases, and you physically cannot handle the way he says it.

“I— well— Yes, sure that’s what I was going for.”

You gently scratch at the dried edges of your clay face mask, and he watches quietly, wishing he could see the blush that’s risen on your cheeks underneath it.

“Why were you showering so early— It’s like midday, I thought you said you showered in the evening?” He asks, out of the blue, causing you to frown.

Your answer comes out unsurely, “I have anxiety showers sometimes. It calms me down.”

He cocks his eyebrow, “Is that why you were literally dripping wet when i came over the other day?”

He pins you with his gaze, and you don’t reply for a few seconds. You were hoping he broke the silence himself, but it was clear he was waiting for a response.

You blurt out, “You make me nervous!”

To this he laughs, “I make you nervous?”

“Not… all the time.” You amend, “Just sometimes.”

You remove yourself before he can ask more questions, and you go to wash off the face mask in the bathroom, while he’s still stifling his laughter.

You emerge after washing it off with cold water, and his eyes follow your every step as you go to sit back down.

“Yknow, Y/N, if I didn’t know any better I’d—“

He’s cut off by a bang on the front door.

You were only scared for a second, until you heard a shrill feminine shout from outside it. One you know to be your best friends classic angry voice.

You were relieved for only about another second before you realised, she will probably break that door down if you don’t let her in.

Oh god.

“Y/N Y/L/N. LET. ME. IN!” You can picture her angry little face. And you’re almost a bit terrified of her.

But you have to hide Harry. Like you have to actually hide him.

“Harry— you— fuck, get up—” You whisper, trying to stay as quiet as possible, grabbing his wrist.

“What is happening?” He sounds awfully confused as you manhandle him around the hotel room, trying to find an adequate place to hide a 6 foot tall man from your fired up best friend.

“She may kill you— she loves you— but she’s very mad at me right now, because I didn’t tell her about,” you pause as you try to label again whatever the two of you were, “us… this… whatever you want to deem it.”

You realise the cupboard is about the only reasonable place, unless you make him climb down the balcony.

“Are you—“

“Y/N! i already KNOW you’re in there!” She calls from the door again.

You tug the door of it open, “Get in!”

You half push him inside it, “I’m so sorry, but just, just sh okay??”

He nods hastily, and you quite literally shut him in there.

“I’m coming!” You shove the takeaway cups into a kitchen cupboard and rush to the door.

Letting her in, she practically storms past you. And you pray to god you can get rid of her in a short period of time.

“I’m sorry!” You say to her, grabbing her hands.

“How could you not tell me something like that?!” She barks, shaking your arms like an angry child.

You do feel bad, because you would also be pissed if it were the other way around.

You try to explain, clutching her warm palms tighter, “To respect his privacy! I wanted to, so, so badly but I just… I didn’t want it getting out.”

She groans, pulling you in for a tight, yet still frustrated hug.

“But you know I wouldn’t have told anyone!”

“I do, i know. I’m sorry.” You embrace her, “but every time we were together there were other people… and I just hadn’t figured out how, let alone talked to him about it.”

She calms down a tiny bit, and sometimes the best way to describe her is like a miniature tornado. Her anger is very quick to bubble over and turn her into this fired up, yelling ball of energy. Yet it dissipates shortly after she lets it all out.

“Okay, well I get that, of course. But… wait are you two actually— have you slept with him?” You pull back from the hug and give her a shocked stare. Her ask stuns you for a moment.

You’re hyperaware that he is listening to this conversation.

What is he thinking right now— you can’t help but wonder. And you have to physically force yourself to push the thoughts that come with such a question aside.

“I— why would you ask me that!” You hiss at her, sounding guilty, even though you’re just throughly embarrassed.

“Because he's Harry Styles!” She exclaims, “who happens to be a very gorgeous man, and I would not be surprised if you wanted— I don't know— in his pants?”

“We are just friends!” You drag your hand down your face. Internally pleading that she stops saying embarrassing shit.

“Whatever you little liar. Acting like as if you haven't said on multiple occasions just how bad you wan—“

“OKAY!” You interrupt, trying to keep the frantic tone out of your voice, “I get it. I really do, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. But look, I have so many people I have to call and— i think my whole family also want me dead— so can we maybe get a coffee tomorrow? Talk it over, and you can ask all the questions you want.”

At your proposal, she seems to realise you mean it. And despite the confused look on her face at the fact you’re kicking her out to call what is basically her own adopted family, it seems she understands.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t wanna seem pushy. I was… just also in shock. Tomorrow at 10?” She smiles.

You start both walking over to the door, “that’s perfect.”

Tugging her into another hug, she huffs out an ‘I love you.’

You laugh and give her a chaste peck on the side of her head, “I love you too. I promise I wanted to tell you on my end. I just didn’t want to fuck anything up…”

She nods, pulling back, “I know. And if you need anything, or anyone before I see you tomorrow, don’t forget I’m only a few floors up.”

“I won’t.” You open the door for her, and bid a final goodbye. And once it’s shut, you realise how badly you want the ground beneath your feet to literally swallow you whole.

Despite the embarrassment, you quickly rush over to let Harry out of the cupboard you’d shoved him in.

And as he steps out, adorning a smirk and clearly stifling a laugh, you apologise profusely.

“God— I am so incredibly sorry.”

A proper abashed grin spreads across his face, one that flashes his dimples. Reminding you of the sign you took to the last show, telling him how pretty you thought his smile was. You still think the same.

“Kind of exciting hiding in a cupboard. I never even did it as a teenager.” He chuckles, brushing a few stray curls from his eyes.

“Do I look a little more youthful? As gorgeous as ever?” He teases.

“I am so sorry you had to hear all of that, she has a… she lacks a filter.” You excuse, cheeks flaming as you try to dig yourself out of the hole your best friend has unwittingly buried you in.

“That's okay love, but I am a little curious…”

You frown at his careful words.

He takes a step closer as he continues, “what so badly did you want to do to me that you told all your friends about?”

At this, you completely turn your face away from his green-eyed stare. Because you cannot trust yourself.

He doesn’t realise the dangerous game he’s playing with you right now. Especially while he’s standing in-front of you like this. Tattooed arms out, beautiful face and jawline on display.

“Y/N, darling. I asked a question.” His voice has turned to honey. He’s talking you in a way he never has before. With a tone that is almost demanding an answer, laced with a undertone of seduction.

“Stop it.” You hiss, flicking his solid chest with your hand.

He steps forward, and you step back in response. He backs you up all the way to the edge of your bed.

“Stop being a flirt.” You scoff, finally holding eye contact for more than a second.

His pupils have blown out a little, and the stare he’s giving you is something you want burned into the underside of your eyelids.

“Why? Is it working.” He chuckles, demeanour softening a tiny bit as his hand slides down your arm.

You don’t reply.

“Please tell me, Y/N. I want to know. Y’know I’m nosey.”

“Resorted to begging, I see.” You snort, heart still hammering behind your rib cage.

“If it works, I can do plenty of it.” He playfully remarks.

You try to not reply again, but you’re met with a silence. Somehow he knows you’re going to fill it with a fumbled half-confession.

“I don’t even really remember. I was probably tipsy on some wine. Said some stuff to… the girls. After a show.”

“After a show?” He smirks, “Which one?”

“Barcelona. And maybe back at… another. One or two others.”

“But that’s all I’m saying!” You interject, hoping he takes that as enough of an answer.

He laughs at your attempted defiance.

“Anyways, what even— what are you getting at here?” You ask, because truly, his flirting is heavily confusing you. In every way possible.

“Remember when you told me I had a the prettiest smile?” He lightly grazes your hip with his warm hand.

“I— yes. That was like, 2 weeks ago. What’s your point?” You are biting at your bottom lip.

“Don’t get feisty.” He coos, “Everytime I smile around you, I think of that. And then, I wonder what other things you think about me. What other parts you see of me and consider as pretty.”

“And, can you blame a man for wanting to know what dirty things you’ve said about him to y’friends?”

Jesus Christ. A part of you melts at his words. He is watching you like a hawk, gauging your every little reaction. But you’re clinging to any part of you that’s trying to keep this from heading in that direction. Even though you know it’s not because you don’t want to.

“We really shouldn’t… H.” You state, voice almost shaking with an unspoken need. One that you’re trying to keep from bursting through the seams.

“Why not, Y/N?” He asks, making it sound like a challenge. Causing him to be met with a quick jump in your voice.

You are pulling at every part of your strength right now to justify why this is a terrible idea.

“Because, Harry. I am a fucking fangirl for you. Not in a casual way either, like bordering a little bit insane! It’s horrifying, and very embarrassing! And this is a horrible idea, because I don’t think you understand the kind of—“ You don’t get to finish whatever you were about to say, because he kisses you. With his all.

It feels like he pours every once of his being into it. The way his smooth lips press into your own, fuelled by a heat that is felt in the very pit of your stomach. Your knees almost buckle at the sensation.

You grab his shoulder to stabilise yourself. And your lungs are already drawn of all their air.

In actuality, it mustn’t have lasted very long— maybe a couple seconds— before he pushes the back of your knees against the bed, forcing you to sit down.

He draws in a breath after you seperate, “I don’t care if you have photos of me on your fucking bedroom walls, baby.”

“Could not care less, look at you.” He leans down now, kissing over your lips again in separate, doting pecks, “y’so gorgeous, and genuine. I love that you love what I do.”

You’re in a bit of shock, looking up at him with widened eyes. Because obviously you’ve imagined kissing him before. Probably a thousand times. And that dream has somehow sprung to fruition.

How exactly? you’re still unsure.

“I— Harry.” You say, with no real purpose, clutching onto his broad shoulders.

The way you whine out his name drives him almost insane, and he drops down onto his knees between your spread legs. Giving him easier access to kiss your mouth.

His hands snake around your waist, and he lets his lips slot back over yours.

You loose yourself in the act, your own fingers skating up his back and into the hair at the nape of his neck.

It’s so fucking soft. And you use it to press his face closer to yours. He’s surprised when you’re the one to part your lips and dart your tongue out first.

Skating along his pink bottom lip as an invitation.

He accepts it happily, clutching at your waist while he lets his tongue dip into the heat of your mouth. You can’t help but groan at the sensation, and feel the warmth start to gather between your thighs.

He was kissing you like a starved man. And slowly everything you knew started slipping from the forefront of you mind. All you could feel and focus on was him.

How his muscly frame filled up your senses—and the area between your knees— paired with the glide of his tongue over your teeth.

—((sexual content from here and onwards))

His hands tracing over several parts of your body, even going to pull you closer with his hands cupping your bottom. Squeezing at the swell of your ass playfully.

You bite your teeth down onto his lip and drag it backwards, eliciting a moan from the back of his throat.

Your hips push forward, brushing the front of your shorts on his torso, causing his jaw to go lax.

The two of you seperate for air, panting, and his eyes veer south, looking at where you’re pressed against him.

“Fuckin’ Christ. Look at you, needy little thing.”

You bury your head into his neck, kissing along his sharp jawline. Unable to control your slowly circling hips.

“So, y’willing to share what it is you wanted to do to me yet? Given that you’re practically grinding on m’chest.”

You hum a maybe, and he lets out a deep laugh.

“After Barcelona,” You start, and he works to coax the answer out of you with his hands and lips.

“Mmhm…” he acknowledges, mouthing against your clavicle.

“You had looked so good that night… and I got a little tipsy after the show, back at our BNB.”

“You were in those low rise black pants, and that tiny cropped vest. And my god— i said to all the girls that if you were down, I would happily let you take me. Anyway you wanted.”

“Anyway?” His hoarse voice asks.

“Anyway. Fingers, tongue... cock.”

At the first mention of something genuinely sexual, he almost looses it. Envisioning your spread legs with his head pressed between them.

“But I didn’t just say that because I was tipsy. Or because of the outfit you wore.” You allude quietly.

He can’t wait another second before he’s pressing his already swollen lips back against yours. And hard.

“Want everything off you.” He fists at your boob-tube.

Your body is hotter than a thousand suns, and your need for him is literally tearing through you.

It’s clear this was your tipping point. There was no going back to something casual and platonic. The way your whole body ached to have him was unfathomable.

“Strip me.” You beg, arms lifting so he can tug the thin black material over your head, leaving your breasts in a strapless bra.

He runs his tongue over the exposed skin, hands sliding to the clasp at your back to get it off you.

He moans aloud once he sees you, briefly recalling the times his gaze has dipped to your cleavage in those little sundresses you wore while you were out together, and how he would always be wishing for a moment like this.

He laves his tongue over your nipple, before quickly occupying himself with the button of your shorts.

“These off too?” He confirms, voice gravelly with want.

Hastily, you nod, “Yes, all of it.”

Your sheer eagerness is turning him on even more. You always seemed a tiny bit reserved, so hearing you beg for your clothes to get torn off…

“Ass up,” he asks, watching as you lift it from the bed so he can tug the shorts from your waist and down your legs.

Left in nothing but your underwear, he slides his hand over your front to see how wet you were.

You moan as his fingers brush over your clothed-clit. And you notice now that your arousal has wet through your panties.

“Fucking hell. You realise you’re absolutely drenched, right baby?” He near moans, rubbing a gentle circle over the fabric.

“I—shit— I’m sorry, didn’t think I’d gotten so…” You’re almost a little embarrassed at the amount of arousal between your legs.

He hooks his fingers into the crotch of your underwear, peeling them down your thighs.

Your bare cunt had him almost light headed. You were genuinely glistening, and your slick had already spread to the hood of your clit.

“Darling don’t be sorry. Y’got the prettiest little pussy. Cant believe you’re this wet.”

“What did it for you, huh?” He asks finger running through you, eliciting a groan from both your throats.

In a pleasure-filled haze, you slur out a reply, “You. Just all of you.”

You squirm under his featherlight caress, and take a moment to watch him gaze at you. There is nothing but this look of admiration and desire in his eyes.

“Wanna see you, Harry.” You plea, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

He waits not a second to slip it over his head, and your hands immediately run down his torso. Staying quiet as he lets you indulge.

This is something you have thought of in a million different ways. His chest is built like that of a Greek gods, and his tattoos are an added bonus.

You feel the ridges of his abs under your fingertips, and you trace over the butterfly tattoo as well.

His breath flutters in and out of his nose. But using your hands doesn’t satiate you.

You need him on your tongue.

“Stand up.” You ask, and he doesn’t question you, he just obliges.

You keep him stood between your bare legs, but lean your neck inwards, tongue jutting out to run a solid strip up his stomach.

A rumble comes from him, akin to a growl as you move to of his pecs. Gliding your tongue over the hair-dusted flesh, and enveloping his own nipple into your mouth.

You’d never done this before, since sucking on a guys nipple is less of a commodity… but the reaction it works out of him is perfect.

The way he throws his head back, sharp jaw tilted to the celling, and hair falling from his forehead.

“Oh… oh god.”

You draw back, grabbing his shorts and pushing them down. Kissing both the laurels that sit atop his hips before cupping your hand over his bulge, covered by black Calvin Klein briefs.

“Can I take you out, please?”

“Such nice manners, good girl.”

Good girl. The words float around in your head, and something else inside of you comes undone.

Not sure if it was your self respect… or some other part of your morals. But you could go feral simply over those two words.

You bite down on your lip as you tug the briefs down, watching his cock slip up.

Lord.

You almost salivate. It’s perfect in every way you’d want it to be. A flushed red tip, dotted with beads of pre-cum. And of course it’s big.

For an already perfect man, it’s hard to believe you can strip him completely, and still not find a single flaw.

“Staring pretty hard… you a little intimated?”

“It’s big.” You state, hand coming to wrap around its thick base. “Want it in me.”

He leans down, picking you up by your thighs. You laugh in reaction, him manhandling you into the centre of your still unmade bed.

There was a sense of intimacy that was being shared as he pulled you forward, so you were straddling his hips.

Both of you leaned forward to lock lips, kissing feverishly as you touched over every inch of skin you could. Eventually, both of your hands falling between the others legs.

You stroked over him, and he careful slid his middle finger into you.

He worked you until you were near dripping down his hand, and were scraping your nails along his shoulders.

“Harry— need you…” you beg.

“Want me to take you right now?” He asks, cock throbbing in your hand.

“Yes. I can handle it. Promise. I’m clean and on birth control if you wanna go bare.”

“Only if you’re sure. I trust you.”

“I am… just want to feel you.” You plead.

“Need you to tell me how y’want it first, pretty.” He coos, curling his finger inside you.

You moan in response, and he slides it out shortly after so he regains your attention.

“I—“ you stutter, now feeling empty, “anyway you want, I said that earlier.”

“No, baby, how do you like it?” He asks again, smiling against your skin.

“Anything, hard or gentle, I’ll come either way. Look at you— as if I wouldn’t.”

He pulls your core to his, rubbing the tip against your slick hole, “Then tell me as we go how you’re doing, and what you want or need okay. Want you to feel really good, m’kay?”

You nod, and he starts to sink into you, already pulling a moan from your lips at the stretch.

He on the other hand struggles to hold himself together as your warm walls part for him.

“Fuck, fuck… you’re so tight, Y/N.” He groans, pulling you down nearly all the way— stopping before he reaches the base of his cock, taking a moment to adjust so he doesn’t come before he’s all the way in.

“Mm-“ you whine out, nails digging into the warm muscle on his back, “Harry…”

Once he’s composed himself, he lets your hips sink the down to the base of him. You both take a moment to feel it. Panting, because the heat and the connection you’re both sharing is only describable as euphoric.

“Y’okay?” He sighs out, clutching your waist with firm hands.

“Yes… so fuckin’ full.” You moan out, hole fluttering around his length.

He carefully draws his hips back, pulling out a little only to push it back in.

Just that small movement has you reeling. And you’re quick to realise that this is probably going to be the best sex you’ve ever fucking had.

“Look at that, your cunt swallowing me up. So fuckin’ hot.” He whispers, slowly starting to pick up the pace.

His fingers move to play with your clit, and he notices the reaction that courses through your body the second he rolls it between his fingers.

You buck your hips against him, and he brings his lips down to suck on the side of your breast.

“Mark me.” You encourage, wanting him to leave you with bruises from his mouth.

“Dirty thing,” he moans, fucking up into you, “so fucking wet too. All f’me isn’t it?”

The dirty talk causes you to clench around him, and he picks up on it.

“Jesus, you really are? Like when I say dirty stuff too, clearly.” He grunts.

“Yes, fuck! Please touch me.” You ask, needing to feel more of him, to the point it consumes your senses.

He touches you almost everywhere, with his hands, lips, tongue. All over your body until you genuinely can’t think of anything else.

It leaves your body shaking, and he can tell you’re not going to last much longer going by the clenching of your cunt.

“I’m gonna come if you keep squeezing around me like tha’.” He curses, keeping a fast pace with his hips as you feel the beginning of your high approaching.

It starts to bubble up in the pit of your stomach, “God— you’re so deep.”

“Yea, love? Feel me all the way up here?” He splayed his hand on your lower abdomen and you nod.

“Gonna come soon… please.” Your thighs are going weak from trying to hold your body up, and he notices, flipping you around so he’s on top of you.

The new angle has you biting down on your palm to try and stop yourself from crying out.

“Taking it so well. M’not far off either, baby.” He groans, his thrusts faltering as he bottoms out.

He pushes two fingers past your lips, allowing your tongue to swirl over them before he is removing them. Taking them down to rub over your swollen clit.

The added stimulation is what’s going to tip you over the edge.

“H—fuck—Harry! I’m gonna come!” You moan out, nails scraping down his bicep.

“Good fucking girl,” he prompts, fingers flicking over your clit, “let it all go for me, gush all over my cock.”

His words send you spiralling. And they’re the final push you need before your cunt clamps down around him with a loud moan tearing out of you.

“Fuckfuckfuck!” You’re writhing around him, and he curses at how tight you’re clenching him.

“That’s it, keep fucking going— ride it out on me.” He hisses, hips finally faltering as he feels his cock come inside of you.

Twitching between your warm walls as his stomach muscles contract and ripple with the intensity of his release.

He near buckles on top of you, his body weight pressing against you. And The two of you are panting, still shivering out slight aftershocks of your orgasms.

His forehead rests against yours, and you lean forward to brush a kiss against his parted lips.

Gently, he pulls himself out. A tiny hiss coming from his lips at the sensitivity.

He rolls over, bringing you to lay down on top of him. And you feel the partial heaving of his damp chest below you.

“Thank you…” You mumble out, sounding almost shy.

He picks up on it, “Don’t sound so nervous, darling. Y’were amazing.”

This brings a smile across your lips. It’s safe to assume that maybe things around you are complicated. But actually between the two of you, it’s anything but.

You like him, so much. So you just say it.

“I like you, Harry.”

And he affirms your statement with a kiss to your temple, and says quietly, “I like you too, Y/N. A lot.”

And this feels like an unspoken agreement that maybe the media is only going to get more riled up about the two of you as time goes on, but what you have is something genuinely worth fighting for.

Plus… they already know so, what’s the worse that could really happen now?

———

that was a long one!! hope you all loved it, and thank you so much for the support on this series. and don’t worry, you will definitely still be seeing more of them in the future. 🤍

taglist:

@harrystylesgirlie @purple9950 @teamspideyman @rociolunaa21 @spiritofbuddha @lemonhrry @deamus-liv @Iquvlly @kuntxrgraudunkelbunt @hsfanficsrecss @hsstylesrings @saturnheartz @victoriasigaard @lilfreakjez @mrsvxder @skxawngs @theekyliepage @hannah9921 @shiffpring @multifandomsw @roslastyles420 @slutforcoffein @kittenhere @stylesfever @butterfly-lover @daniizstyles @padf00ts-l0ver @sunflowervol18 @laurxn-robinson @kkr102 @superlegend216 @jerseygirlinca @cherrysulewski

+ all the anons who sent stuff to my submission box, thank you to you guys too, all my love

[rainychaoloveshack]

Shadow x Fem Reader and it’s their first date❤️

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟ𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫. 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐠.

it’s you and shadows first date. are you ready?

⋆°•☁︎ content . shadow x gn!reader, fluff, mentions of light friends/acquaintances to lovers, shadows a lil nervous huehehe and so is reader

☂︎ wc. 1.2k ☂︎ a/n. THANK YOU FOR YOUR REQUEST! this was so cute to write murhehehe i still feel like i could’ve done a lil better but i hope you like it regardless ^^’

likes, reblogs, and especially comments are extremely appreciated!!! (i like chatting to you guys!)

Soft jazz music from the restaurant already rings out from outside, mingling with the hustle and bustle of the street, a bell chiming above your head as you push open the glass door with your palm. Luckily, your date seems to stand out compared to everyone else here; or is it just the light that’s making him look so charming?

Ah, look at you. Smitten. It’s already too late to try to shake off any nerves; he’s already seen you from afar. You hope he hasn’t been waiting too long; you did get here on time after all. Would it have been better if you two met before the reservation? Dates are so hard.

“You…” Shadow trails off as you trot up to him, brushing some imaginary dirt off your outfit as you try not to look him directly in the eyes. First impressions were never your strong suit, especially with someone as stern as Shadow. Well, not that it’s your first time meeting him, but in such a romantic setting like this; butterflies are rising and fluttering around your stomach. “You look lovely.”

You could’ve sworn a butterfly made its way out of your stomach and into your mouth as you uttered a small ‘thank you’, your voice almost trembling at the last syllable. Being this nervous in front of someone you’ve known for a while now is an odd feeling.

“Come on, sit.” He gestures to the seat across from him, strangely fidgeting with his gloves. “I… I hope the place isn’t too much.”

Fancy for a first date, sure. It’s not your first time hearing of this place either; Rouge must’ve recommended it to him.

So she’s playing both sides? She was the one who recommended you to ask him out anyhow, so she must’ve known that he would’ve said yes. That sly bat. But it still shocks you even now that he did say yes to your little proposal…

Breaking out of your thoughts, you glance away from the seemingly entrancing patterns in the rug, eyes flickering back up to Shadow, who's looking down at his clasped hands. He notices your gaze rather fast and clears his throat. “Is something wrong?”

Shadow’s been strangely silent. More so than he usually would be around you. Not that you two talked very often, but every time you met there was always at least some light chatter and banter between you two, sometimes a heartfelt moment and long conversation. Maybe you two are closer than you thought. 

“It’s just that I’ve never been on a date before.” Shadow scoffs. “It’s nothing special.” But it looks like he’s more than eager to change the topic.

He can’t handle a simple date? The Ultimate Lifeform, ready to fall over and fold? You cup your cheek, rubbing the tips of your fingers over your cheekbone. It’s a struggle to kill the cheeky smile on your face; joking around with Shadow has always been fun, and your nerves decided it was time to spill out a joke anyway. But maybe it was wrong to let one fly in this situation?

Shadow growls, baring his teeth briefly before he tries his best to defend myself. “Shut your-” He catches himself mid-threat, clearing his throat as he rips his gaze away from you. “Nothing. Nevermind.” He mutters, his shoulder stiffening under your curious gaze. It looks like he’s scared of offending you, but it’s not like you two haven’t joked around like that before. Is it the restaurant? The way you look?

“It’s not you,” Shadow says sternly, firm in his answer. “It’s me; I just feel strange talking to you like this; in this setting.” He mutters, staring down in his gloved hands. “I’m not used to this; this feeling. I don't-” A grimace forms on his lips as he meets your eyes again. “-date around. With anyone. I don’t mess around with feelings like that, so…” Shadow trails off, worried he might’ve said something wrong once your head cocks to the side slightly. “Not that I’m opposed to, I just don’t have experience with those… Things.” He finishes, attempting to hide his embarrassment by clearing his throat, but his ears tell another story. The way they’re twitching here and there as you shuffle in your seat, noticing every small movement as you fidget with the neckline of your outfit.

“...After dinner, do you want to walk around Station Square? If you’d like, we could take a train down to the nearby plaza.” He mutters quietly, his ear flicking in your direction as he waits for your answer to his proposal this time.

…You’d like that a lot.

Crickets chirp along the flowerbeds and bushes as your shoes click against the pavement, trailing behind Shadow’s own steps in an attempt to catch up to his stride. It was already so late, but you two caught one of the last trains here. Now the problem present is on how you’ll get home, but you’re with Shadow. Something’ll come up.

Plus, to see Shadow so relaxed after his tenseness at the restaurant makes your mood lighten to match his. Not much conversation has happened with you two for the past hour, but it’s peaceful. It’s sweet.

He’s so sweet. Like candy… No, not quite candy. It's more like a dessert. What dessert would fit him?

“Is there something on my face?” Shadow points to himself with his thumb, cocking his head at your gaze constantly on him. To hide the embarrassment, you shake your head and come up with some lie about you zoning out; not that it’s fully a lie, but the bigger reason that you were staring at him is just to admire him. But that’s weird to say, right?

Right…

“Tch.” He grumbles, his body straightening out once he realizes he’s being too harsh. “... You know, if-” Shadow cuts off his own voice, noticing a small blink of light near your head, around the same time that you notice it yourself.

Oh.

“It’s just some fireflies.” Shadow’s lips part softly, watching the firefly buzz and flutter around your shoulder. You cup it into your hands, brushing your hip against Shadow so he can see the insect clearly within your palm, blinking its light up at the two of you. How cute. Little lightning bugs…

“I didn’t mean to mess this up.” Your eyes rip away from the bug, instead grazing over to his figure, his arms crossed with his finger tapping repeatedly on his arm. “I had fun.” His head’s turned to the side to not meet your gaze, somewhat ashamed of his behavior. You don’t blame him for it; it’s not like you weren’t nervous too. But not a single thing was ruined about it; he didn’t have to apologize at all.

“If you’d like,” he murmurs, clutching your hands within his own as your little lightning flies away to join the others fluttering around you both. His thumb brushes across your fingers and palm, feeling every groove and digit. “I’d like to do this with you again. I think I’ll be better at handling it next time.”

You’d like that too. A lot. Maybe those butterflies in your stomach won’t be as bad next time, but their wings are still brushing against the edges of it, threatening to spill out from your mouth even now. 

[madi-writes-things]

Nobody Pt. 1

(C.Sturniolo X Reader)

Summary:

Chris and Y/N never seemed to get along, but sometimes help comes from the most unexpected places

Word Count: 1,009

TW: Cursing, SH (not in detail, but it definitely happens and is talked about), Blood, Violence, Hurt Comfort, Not edited, Bad stuff under the cut

A/N: Hey guys, just wanted to pop in t let you know that my DM’s are always open if you need someone to talk to. I use y writing as a safe and healthy outlets for the destructive thoughts, but reading i these sorts of things isn’t healthy for everyone… keep yourself safe.

-Madi <3

Y/N’s POV

“”“”“”“”“”

“What do you want?” I ask when I see Chris walk into my room without knocking. I didn’t mean for it to sound so rude, but it just kind of happens when i talk to him. I don’t even remember why we hate each other, and i bet he doesn’t either… its just always been like this.

“Nick was too lazy to come upstairs…” he stared at me for a second before continuing. “We’re going out to film, do you want us to get You something for dinner?”

“I’ll just text nick what I want” as he leaves i wonder if he even cares. I only live with him because Nick and Matt begged me to come to LA with them after HighSchool. Nick and i have been best friends since eighth grade when I transferred to their district, and Matt has always been nice to me… but Chris never seemed to like me, eventually i stopped going out of my way to be nice to him.

I hear the door closes, quickly followed by the sound of Matt pulling out of the driveway.

“”“”“”“”“”

How did i get here? Nick would be so mad at me… he would never say it, but i know it’s frustrating when people you care about keep making the same mistakes. I look down at my thighs, realizing that I can’t even see the individual cuts through the blood. I should have just woken Nick up, if i had I wouldn’t be in this situation.

The tears have mostly stopped flowing at this point, and the adrenaline is dying down. The weight of what I’ve done starts to set in. I need to clean this up, I need to get help, I need to get Nic-

“What the fuck” as I look up I’m met with the icy blue eyes of Chris. Before I can process what is happening he is yanking the blade out of my hand and flushing it down the toilet. “Y/N, look at me… what happened?” Seeing the panic in his eyes makes me feel bad, he was never supposed to have to deal with this.

“Can you please get the first aid kit from under my bed?” The words roll off my tongue with ease. He just stared at me with fear in his eyes. “I’ll be fine, just go” with that he turned around and went to my room.

Chris returned a few minutes later, with my large first aid kit, and a gas station bag in his hands. I had been desperately trying to clean up some of the mess with toilet paper, but I was mostly failing. “Can you please sit on the side of the bathtub?” I stared up at him in confusion. “Please Y/N… please just let me help you clean up”

“do you even know what you’re doing?” His response consisted of turning his phone to face me, an article on how to clean self harm wounds staring back at me. “Fine…” I did what he asked and positioned myself on the side of the tub.

Chris started by wiping up what I had missed from the floor, quickly moving to sit in between my legs. As he started cleaning me up, I realized how intimate our position was. He wouldn’t look me in the eyes, but I could tell that he was holding back tears. After he stopped all the bleeding, and cleaned off the wounds he just stared for a second… and it broke me.

the tears started streaming down my face again, nothing could’ve stopped them. “Don’t tell Nick… he can’t know I’m doing this again.”

He finally looked up at me, taking a breath to steady himself before speaking. “again?” I just stared. He finished up what he was doing in silence before finally speaking. “Ok… I won’t tell Nick, as long as you let me help you with this”

“I don’t need help Chris.” He didn’t respond, causing me to panic. “Fine, but nobody can know about this.” He held out his pinky, I locked mine into his… an unspoken promise between us.

Chris disposed of any evidence, before carrying me to his room. I was too tired to protest, and it’s not like anyone would be up early enough to notice. He gave me a pair of sweats, and climbed into the bed with me.

“”“”“”“”“”

I woke up to Chris laying practically on top of me, his arm wrapped tightly around my waist. For a moment I didn’t mind… until I saw the time.

“wake up!” I shook him lightly, his eyes flutter open before widening at the position he was currently in. “I need to get up, me and Nick are supposed to go get breakfast for a video… he can’t know that I slept in here.” Chris quickly rolled off of me, and I rushed down the stairs.

As I made my way into the living room I could see Matt and Nick, sitting in silence. They looked at me at the same time, just as Chris came down the stairs to join us.

“Why are you wearing his sweat pants?” Nick stared daggers into my soul. “They must’ve gotten mixed up in the laundry…” I hated lying to my best friend, but he couldn’t know.

“I see… what’s your fake excuse for being in his bed this morning?” I looked at Chris quickly as we walked closer to his brothers. He met my eyes, unsure of what the right decision was.

“please Chris…” I whispered. “You promised me you wouldn’t tell him.” I see Chris make a decision, and before I can stop him he opens his mouth.

“We slept together.” He looked at me, apologizing with his eyes. I look between Nick and Matt, trying to judge their reactions. While this wasn’t ideal, it was better than the truth… until I saw Nick get up.

in a matter of seconds Nick had punched Chris across the face. After flexing his hand, he looked at me with nothing but hatred before walking away.

[nicksbestie]

Hey Pooks, I have another self-indulgent request…

I’m coming up on a year clean of SH, there’s no way I could have gotten this far without my friends. I was curious if you could write a fic about Jake/Johnnie either helping the reader during the healing process or celebrating her accomplishments during recovery.

I’m sure that you have a lot of requests at the moment, but I absolutely adore your work.

-🫠

Recovery - Jake Webber

Summary : Recovery is an incredibly hard process, but your best support system are your friends <3

Pairing : Jake Webber/Reader (platonic)

Warnings : mentions of self harm, read at your own discretion!!!!

Word Count : 829

A/N : this was such a heartwarming request :( i'm so proud of you anon!!! as someone coming up on two years of being sh-free next week, i know firsthand how difficult this can be!! you're doing great, keep going!!! <3 to anyone struggling or needing someone to talk to, my anon box is always open, and so are my dms. you're never alone!!

Addiction is so difficult. It is arguably one of the hardest things that a human can go through. And with that, recovery becomes nearly impossible in a lot of cases. 

You had been struggling with a self harming addiction for a long time, and had finally gotten onto the stable path of recovery. You knew firsthand just how difficult this was, and had fallen into many relapses before you had gotten to the point that you were at right now. If someone had told you a couple of years ago that you would be here, right now, you probably would’ve laughed in their face. 

You knew there was no way that you could’ve gotten to the point that you were at now without your closest friends. They had been your support system through everything, not turning away or ever making you feel bad about it when you had been deep in addiction. They had always been caring and loving, making sure that they were there whenever you needed or asked them to be.

You could think of so many times off of the top of your head when they had genuinely be the best people in your life. Your family wasn’t incredibly supportive, blaming you more than anything else, so that had left you with just your friends. Grateful didn’t even come close to covering how you felt for them. 

There had been a time when you had been relapsing, badly, and trying to hide it, feeling that there was the chance of your friends being upset with you, the anxiety and shame of what you’d done completely clouding your judgment. In your panic, you’d forgotten that Jake was due to be coming over that afternoon, and when he let himself in, you freaked out.

However, instead of the angry reaction that you had been anxiously expecting, Jake had been gentle, kind, and overall more than you had ever hoped for. You’d never had someone sit down with you, letting you cry your feelings out, and help you clean up. He sat in the bathroom with you, keeping gentle pressure on your wounds, halfway hugging you in between adjusting his hold, and making sure that you were sitting steady. He’d gently helped you bandage up the cuts, making sure that all of them were clean.

His hands, despite being large, were incredibly accurate and soft. You didn’t feel any excessive pain, but that may have been due to how out of it you were. You’d stopped crying by this point, but you were now exhausted, and didn’t feel good. Jake cleaned up the blood with no complaints, waving you off when you tried to help him. After that, he had pulled you into another hug, before gently settling you on the couch, cuddling with you for a while and making sure you ate something.

He refused to leave your side for many days after that. He stayed next to you, making sure that you were aways comfortable, had something to eat and drink, and took your meds, because he could tell that you hadn’t been taking them. He ordered food whenever you needed some, and never made you do more than lifting a finger to do anything. He had been your biggest supporter for years, but this week really brought the two of you even closer than you had ever thought you would be.

There had been another time where you had called him over, desperate for someone to distract you, and you swear he had never driven his car faster. He had stayed on the phone with you the entire time, getting there as quickly as possible, and had wrapped his arms around you, sitting with you to make sure you couldn’t do anything drastic. There were a ton of days that you would swear he saved your life, and both of those incidents fell under those days.

So that lead you to now, tears on your waterline, threatening to fall as you stood inside your front door, seeing a large balloon blown up in the shape of a “1” in your kitchen, Jake standing there with a huge smile on his face and a cake. He had promised you months ago that he was going to celebrate your year anniversary of being clean when you got there, but you hadn’t thought you would ever get there. You hadn’t thought that he would remember either, so you were shocked when you walked in to this. 

He immediately hugged you, making sure you didn’t cry, and began to cut the cake. It had “One Year!” written on it in curly red icing, and he passed it to you with a small card. It had his scrawly handwriting on the inside of it.

“I’m so proud of you!! One year down, many to go. You’re incredible.”

You had a huge smile on your face by this point, incredibly proud of yourself as well. 

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

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[invissimp]

Yule Blue ||

Authors notes: I didn't expect to finish this until Saturday or Sunday but Suprise!

Part 1

my requests are open!

Silence, that’s all you and your friends sat in after you confessed your feelings for a certain Slytherin. Hermione wasn’t surprised at your feelings just shocked you said it out loud and around Harry and Ron. The latter let out a gasp and told Harry to pinch him to make sure he wasn’t dreaming which he did and Ron responded with “I didn’t actually mean it!”

Harry just remained sat at the couch with a unreadable expression on his face but it slowly turned into a smile, just a small one which he hasn’t done a whole lot these days. Well at least Harry and Hermione was fine with it. You couldn’t tell with Ron at this point because he was just confused with all the information.

They all sat in a circle around you listening to what you told them about how Draco confronted you in the hall, and how you simply ran away from him.

Thankfully the common room was empty since everyone was either asleep or doing a potions essay. Shivering at the thought of the essay due in a couple of days that you haven’t started on.

“Well why didn’t you just tell him that you fancied him?” The weasley asked like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Harry shook his head at his bestfriends words while you and Hermione just rolled your eyes. Godric you loved Ron as a friend but he really couldn’t read a room for his life.

“Well Ronald if you must know he told me in Hogsmeade that he asked damn Pansy Parkinson to the Ball.”

That was news to your friends, this time it was Hermione’s turn to gasp at your words while Ron and Harry jaws had practically dropped to the floor.

They weren’t stupid by no means, it was obvious something happened with you and Draco but none of them would guess something like that could’ve done it.

“Let’s just talk about it tomorrow, yeah?”

————

The conversation did not continue into the next day, a week had pass and it was now the day of the Yule Ball. Obviously you avoided Draco, you could feel him staring at you in the Great hall, in classes, the hallways, everything.

He of course tried to talk to you but thankfully one of your friends were always by your side, one time even the Weasley twins stared him down to get him away from you.

Although you were thankful about your friends being protective, you wished that you could just take a stroll around the school without being followed.

As of now you were sitting in the common room with Harry and Ron, the two boys were talking about dates for the Yule ball while you were writing a letter to Narcissa Malfoy.

It seemed as though Draco didn’t inform her about you ignoring him, since his mother seemed very happy in her letter saying how she wants you to come over during the summer holiday for a week.

Narcissa was a very kind woman and a wonderful mother to her son even if he was a brat sometimes to people. She would be devastated if she found out Draco’s only true friend was purposely ignoring him about a stupid ball.

You decided to simply face Draco, standinf up from the floor just to be asked, “Y/N can you go to the ball with me, I’m only asking because I need one. Just as friends though.”

The boy who lived asked you to the Yule ball. As friends but still. You expected to be standing in the corner watching your friends dance with each other and Draco dancing with Pansy.

But now? Now you can go with one of your best friends and simply enjoy with others although it wouldn’t be as fun if you could dance with Draco. But not everything works out fine.

“Yeah Harry that’s fine.” You could tell by his shoulders going down some to signal that he was less stressed by the pressure of having to find a date, even if it was just a friend. Harry of course would’ve preferred to go with Cho Chang but just like you not everything works out fine.

Ron groaned in his hands, “Blimey i’m the only one that doesn’t have a date in the whole school ain’t I?”

Laughing at Ron’s words, even though he shot a deadly look at you. Harry just rolled his eyes at his friend and thanked you for going with him last minute.

Nodding at his gratitude before sitting back down to finish your homework. It was really last minute since the ball was tomorrow. Which meant Christmas was tomorrow.

———

Waking up to the sound of Lavender squealing about how it was Christmas and the Yule ball. Rolling your eyes at her voice.

Walking down to the common room to see your friends already sitting waiting for you. “Happy christmas.” You grumbled rubbing your eyes.

Opening up your presents, A couple muggle books for Hermione that she heard you talking about, Ron gave you a chess board claiming that “it can finally help you beat me.” Harry got you some new quills since you were running low on them.

Opening up one last gift you already knew who it was that gave it to you. He still cared enough to give you a Christmas gift. Unwrapping the small gift to see a small box which opened.

Opening it up to see a necklace with a small black swan it. Just like how he said his ornament was going to be. You hadn’t looked at the trees at all so you had no idea if he did stick to his end of the deal, you did though.

Putting the necklace on and it felt right at home like it’s been there ever since you were born. Maybe you should try to talk to Draco tonight at the ball.

Hermione pulled you up to the dorm to get ready for the ball. Although you weren’t all that nervous but Hermione was rambling about how she hopes she doesn’t embarrass herself in front of Viktor and everyone during the opening dance of the champions.

Now your stomach was doing flips, you completely forgot about having to dance with Harry in front of everybody. You weren’t nervous about dancing with him, just hoping that you wouldn’t end up tripping and falling in front of everyone.

You assured Hermione that everything would be fine with Viktor and how great they would be tonight together.

———

Doing the last finishing touches on yourself, your hair was now done, along with your makeup. Hermione left just a few minutes ago. Realizing that you were running out of time and quickly put on your dress.

Harry told you that he was wearing simple black robes so the color of your dress didn’t have to match with his thankfully. You had chosen a simple long green dress. Making sure that you still wore your necklace you received this morning.

Walking out of the Gryffindor common room and down the steps to where mostly everyone was waiting to go. The hall erupted into whispers with everyone gasping and pointing up at you.

You saw Harry standing with the other champions by the doors which were starting to open. You locked eyes with a pair of grey ones. Bloody hell did Draco look nice tonight.

Putting on a normal face while walking by him. Feeling him pull your arm towards him and him leaning down to whisper in your ear. “You should’ve been here tonight with me. Not potter, not that damn Steven Bottom either.” He whispered with no remorse in his voice. It was all in a demanding type of way.

Swallowing nothing in your mouth before walking away and up to Harry. You could feel the blood rush up to your face. “What did Malfoy want?”

“I’ll um tell you later.”

Nodding at your response. After a short while everyone was in the great hall and it was time for the Champions to come in.

Now you were on the dance floor with Harry and the other Champions. Looking over at Hermione to see her smiling at Viktor. You saw Ron standing next to Padma looking like he would rather get bit by Sirius in his dog form again.

You felt someone staring holes into the back of your head. You didn’t even need to turn around to know that it was a Malfoy.

The music started playing, you and Harry started dancing together. It was just two friends dancing together. The opening dance didn’t take long thankfully and Harry excused himself to talk to Ron.

Nodding at him while deciding to go talk to a few of your other friends. Stopping by Fred, George and Angelina to talk with them.

Walking over to the trees which were decorated. You were informed that the professors decided what was the best ornaments and they would be hung up. Right dead in the center of the biggest tree was a Black swan right next to a White one.

So he did stick to his end of the deal. Smiling softly at the thought of Draco. Interrupting your thoughts was a cough next to you. It was Draco you recognized it immediately, since it was his fake one which he used to get your attention in class.

“They make quite a good match dont they?” He said more like a statement than question. Nodding at him, what he said earlier in the hall still hadn’t left your mind. That’s all you could think about.

“I mean what I said earlier, I shouldn’t have been such an idiot about not asking you to the ball. I’ve fancied you since second year and I have no clue why I haven’t done anything about it.” Taking a deep breath at his words before going on, “It made me feel some type of way when you said Bottom was practically asking you to this and when I saw you with damn Potter. It just wasn’t right. You should be my date right now.”

Taken aback by Draco Malfoy basically love confession to you. Taking a glance at him to see he was staring right at you waiting for your response. “Your a bloody idiot you know that right? You're lucky I fancy you to.”

He seemed visibly relieved by your words. He took a step closer to you, closing the distance “So you wouldn’t be bothered if I did this then?”

Letting out a weak no to his question before he leaned down and connected your lips with his. It was pure bliss, nothing you’ve ever felt before with a person.

Breaking the kiss between you two, the slytherin stood up straight.

“I believe you owe me a dance.”

———

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