#and even if he doesn’t get it physically which he probably would

[luveline]

hey!! I'd love to see one where maybe jack and hotch try speaking to the baby in pregnant!reader's tummy :))

thank you for requesting! fem, 1k

You sniff Aaron’s hair. It’s your right as his wife to enjoy his smells. You’re too tired for subtlety. “You know how many weeks I am today?” you ask. 

You’re in a bubble together. Aaron answers with his usual calm tenor. “You are twenty seven weeks today, honey.” 

It’s endearing that he knows. It’s nice to have found a good one. To never have to worry about compassion or care. Which isn’t to say he’s perfect, he makes wrong decisions, and he disappoints you sometimes, but still, he’s a good one. You aren’t perfect either and you don’t have to be, all you need to do is love and respect one another as much as is physically possible, and you do.  

“Mm,” you hum, drawing a heart into his arm, “and you know what they say around this time?” 

“I’m not sure.” 

“She can hear you, if you want to talk to her.” 

“Really?” 

“That’s what I read earlier on. That if you talk to her through my stomach, she can probably hear your voice. By full term she’ll have hearing like me and you.” 

“Is that true?” he asks, resting his hand on your bump. Sometimes when the baby is in a bad mood and her foot feels like it’s making a bruise through your skin, all Aaron has to do is touch you, and she stops. 

“Well, according to the baby book. They say by twenty nine weeks it’s a sure thing.” 

“Can I speak to her?” 

You brush through his hair with your pinky nail. “Sure, sweetheart. You can talk to her all night long, I’m sure she’d love to hear your voice.” You push the hair from his forehead. “I like hearing you talk.” 

“Lay back,” he says. 

Aaron sits up and you lay down, your head in the pillows, your pregnancy cushion a support on your left side. He slides your t-shirt up slowly as though giving you time to say no. He begins to rub slow circles around the bump, before laying his head flat to he bed, his lip less than two inches from your distended tummy. 

“Hi, baby,” he says, unabashed. “How are you feeling?” 

You laugh. He peeks up at you. 

“Sorry, it’s just funny.” 

“It’s okay. I’d laugh if you started asking my stomach questions too…” He smiles. “But my baby’s in there, so you’ll have to forgive me.” 

“I won’t laugh again, promise.” 

“It’s fine if you do. I’m finding it hard to take myself seriously.” He slows his rubbing. “Baby, if you can hear me, please say hi… I love you. I’m so happy you’re getting bigger.” 

The longer he talks, the less funny it becomes. His melodic murmuring turns praising, he talks of you and Jack and every amazing thing waiting for the baby in the world when she’s done cooking. He tells her he loves her, loves you, that she’s beautiful even though she’s shaped like a GMO kidney bean. He’s totally relaxed. You fall in love with him all over again. 

“And it looks like your big brother wants to say hi too,” he says. 

You perk up. Footsteps rush down the hall to the master bedroom, and a knock echoes fast. Jack doesn’t wait for an answer, bursting in with a happy gasp. “I knew you were still awake,” he says. “Please can I come watch TV with you?” 

“Sure, buddy, but we aren’t watching anything right now,” Aaron says. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m talking to your sister.” 

Jack leans against the bed, fingers screwing in Aaron’s shirt unthinkingly. “You are?” 

“I read in my book today that she can maybe hear you when you talk to her,” you tell him. “Would you want to talk to her, bud?” 

“Can I?” 

“Sure. I don’t mind. I’d love for you to say hello, ‘cos how special is that? For the last few weeks, all she’s been able to hear is me. She doesn’t know she has a whole family waiting for her.” 

Aaron straightens and helps Jack climb onto the bed. He settles at the pillows with you, leaning down briefly to kiss you, lips misaligned but no less gentle. 

“What do I say?” Jack whispers, putting his hand carefully on your bump. 

“You can say anything you want,” you whisper back. “You can say hi, or you can tell her something. The best thing about babies is that we get to teach them about everything.” 

“Okay, um… well,” —he braces himself with two hands on your tummy and leans in— “you can’t see, but we have a dad with brown hair and brown eyes, and we have a super pretty mommy who smiles all the time at me…” Jack’s cheek tips toward his shoulder. “On Sunday they take me to the library and we stay there all morning. And for dinner we always have, um, one hand of vegetables and one hand of chicken, or pork, or pasta. But it’s okay if you can’t finish everything.” 

He looks at his father. “Is that okay?” he asks. 

Aaron offers his hand. “Buddy, that’s perfect. You can tell her anything that you want. She just wants to hear your voice.” 

“Can I tell her about teenage mutant ninja turtles?” 

You laugh. “Sure,” Aaron says. 

Jack starts to talk about Donatello. You try not to laugh as his little hands tickle you, turning your face into Aaron’s side. 

“I have so many things to say to you right now, but I’m worried it’s too saccharine,” he says. 

“Save them for later,” you say, hugging his waist. “Can I nap here? Would you rub my arm?” 

Aaron rubs your arm as you’ve asked. You fall asleep to the sound of your stepsons mumbled rambling and Aaron’s occasional breathy laugh. 

[ilyrafe]

𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒏 ✧ 𝒓. 𝒄. | 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒆

pairing: hitman!rafe cameron x f!reader

warnings: domestic violence, murder

word count: 1k

a/n: this is loosely based on the movie hit man (actually based on a scene lol)

taglist: @starkeyvhs

unpretentiously, rafe enters the diner and sits at a table, facing the entrance, just so he can see who comes and goes. the young waitress takes his order - a cheeseburger with fries and a soda - and he waits.

strangely, he couldn’t find any pictures of y/n, the woman who contacted him. all he knew about her was her name, really. she only said the clothes she would be wearing - a pair of jeans and a large gray sweater, but anyone could be wearing that. she didn’t inform him about her physicality, and he couldn’t find anything about her online, which intrigued him a lot more.

she isn’t his first female client, but it’s still rare for him to have women wanting his services. 

his order comes and he keeps watching the entrance of the diner. all kinds of people come and go, young and older men, children, teenagers, and even some women, but none of them approach him.

when he’s taking the last sip of his soda, he sees a young looking woman walking towards him. she looks around, clearly nervous. she sits in front of him and rafe realizes it’s her.

“i contacted you yesterday.” she says, almost whispering.

she is visibly tense, probably her first time talking to a hitman.

“how can i help you, y/n?”

she sighs, contrasting with his own posture. she looks tired, the bags under her eyes are quite dark. her hair is lifeless, quite messy, as if she didn’t really have time to brush it or didn’t care to do it. her clothes aren’t new, and he notices a tiny stain that could be blood, but he’s not sure.

before she can say anything, she reaches for her bag and takes out a dark yellow package and slides it to him.

the cash.

“i need you to kill my husband.”

he could be wrong, but rafe is pretty sure there are tiny tears forming in her eyes. they look scared, devoid of any light or hope. to be honest, this woman is just existing.

“why?”

that seems to catch her by surprise. he doesn’t like the way she’s doing everything she can to look invisible. literally no one has noticed her presence there. the waitress hasn’t even come here to take her order.

“he… he’s awful.” she admits. “i don’t know what else to do. he won’t let me leave him. he… he gets drunk and then he…” she trails off, wiping away a few tears. “anything can set him off and i’m scared for my life. the police won’t do anything…”

the friction between the sleeve and the table causes the skin on her wrist to be exposed and he sees purple marks. if her wrist is that bad, he can’t even imagine the rest of her body.

rafe takes the cash in his hands and after two seconds of thought, he gives it back to her.

“do you have children?” she shakes her head. “then take this money and don’t go back home. go away and don’t look back. start over somewhere far away from here.”

“no, he’ll find me!”

the panic in her voice pains him so much.

“don’t worry about it. i’ll take care of him, but i need you to do what i say.”

“i don’t understand…”

“i don’t want your money. just give me a picture of him and his home address.”

after a few long seconds, she nods and takes a piece of torn photo, a piece of paper, and a pen from her purse. she writes down her home address and hands it over along with the picture of her husband.

she takes back the money and put it back in her purse. it’s all her life savings. the money she had to hide from her husband, so he wouldn’t spend on alcohol and drugs. rafe puts the items in his pocket and watches her leave the diner, hoping to god she listens to him and goes away. 

(...)

in his car, rafe watches the movement on the street outside your house.

ever since he left the diner, he has been monitoring your husband’s steps, and since then, he has not seen you coming home. hopefully you really did leave this place for good. 

rafe doesn’t know what possessed him to help you, he has never worked for free, and money is perhaps the most important thing in his life, but after seeing you, and understanding that hiring a hitman may have been your last option, he just wanted to do a good deed, since his job is only to kill people in exchange for money.

it is already dawn, two in the morning to be exact. all the neighbors seem to be asleep. when he is sure that he can act, rafe gets out of the car properly dressed for the killing - gloves, mask and a gun.

upon reaching the back door of the house, rafe notices that the door is unlocked, as are the windows.

strange.

prepared for any kind of situation, he enters the house silently. it is dark, so he turns on the kitchen light, and finds himself in a simple but messy kitchen, with food scraps in the sink. there are empty bottles of whiskey and beer everywhere, trash all over the place. just ahead, in the living room, lying on the floor, there is joshua, your husband, apparently passed out.

this will be easier than expected.

before doing anything to joshua, rafe searches your bedroom and sees that the closet is open and empty. well, there are just a few men’s clothes. all of your clothes are gone. you really are gone. you did go back home, but you're gone, and that’s what really matters.

a sense of relief washes over rafe, and it’s inexplicable. it’s like he really feels like he saved a life.

thinking about faking a suicide, he searches for a gun, and luckily finds one in the bathroom. after checking for ammo, he carefully places the gun in joshua’s hand and brings it to his temple. with his finger, he pulls the trigger.

let me know your thoughts & if you want to be tagged :)))

[noobsoconfusing]

pathetic lover_hamzahthefantastic

he’s quite literally a romantic at the heart, always playing this stupid tough guy game on camera, but oh, oh how different he is when the lenses are off.

it’s the way he begs, or how he is so fucking touch starved. maybe even the way he whines like a kicked dog. hamzah is tired, so so so tired of putting up an act, in reality he is just pathetic, always waiting for a command, for anything he can do to obey, to be good. to receive a praise, a touch, attention, affection.

he doesn’t even care, please just give him something, he needs you and is willing to take anything you give him. please, he’s not picky. hamzah would try so hard, so so so so hard to be good, to make you proud, to make you smile and to make you satisfied.

it’s almost comical how stupid he is for you, how down bad he can get. and to be fair, it’s understandable the craving for your approval, for your attention and time…

he has never had anyone like you –or anyone at all–, you care, you love and you give him everything he needs, just like he does with you.

so if you’re away, maybe at college, or working, or just doing groceries, he would just spam your messages because he needs you, and he needs to know if you need him too.

‘need you’

‘when are you coming back?’

‘i miss you y/n…’

‘can you come home early today?’

‘cats and i miss you a lot btw if you even care..’

‘baby please i miss you just come hoooome!!’

‘ive been good btw’

‘want me to make u dinner? want to order anything?’

he’s so stupid, he’s literally like a puppy following you around everywhere you go. whining when you leave his side for more than 0.3 seconds.

feels physical pain whenever you raise your voice at him or ignore him –which you never really do but hey, there’s been times– and apologises so so so much it’s so fucking worrying how much he says sorry even if you’re not mad at all.

dude is so down bad he would steal your clothes and use them to get off, just inhaling your scent and imagining you’re right there helping him up, so fucking embarrassing how quickly he cums at the thought of you alone..

probably the type to audible whimper when you accidentally touch his body while doing anything not sex related too.. do not blame him though he’s just super fucking touch starved :(

if hamzah could, he would throw himself flat on the ground like a rug so you didn’t have to walk on it, man is entirely whipped, his brain shuts off whenever he is with you.

>_<

this is just a recurring thought i have 0_0 it’d be cool if someone elaborated on it idk i just had to get it off my chest… also just an excuse to write sub hamzah cuz uhhhh yeah..

[world0fmadness]

UNHOLY DEITY

øystein “ euronymous ” aarseth x reader x pelle “ dead ” ohlin

♡ general throuple dating headcanons for euronymous and pelle!

୨୧ what’s better than one metal boyfriend? well, two, obviously! the person who requested this in the comment section of two is better than one seems to have deleted their account so i just marked this as an anon request <3

♡ requested by anon | related hc available here, here and here | view my metal masterlist here

reading music recommendations: pagan winds return by decayed - ageispolis by aphex twin

♡ pelle is very much an observer in this relationship…

୨୧ but not in a creepy way and not in a way where you and euronymous are leaving him out of couple activities or really anything even like that!

♡ pelle just enjoys to admire you two sometimes, he likes to watch the two of you and not get in the middle

୨୧ this is usually especially common on the infamous days where pelle doesn’t have a huge want or need for physical touch

♡ pelle will just sit back and watch you and euronymous as you engage in a sloppy make out session, admiring the way your mouths open to allow your tongues to meet, watching as you grind your hips down on euronymous’ lap as he holds your hips with pale hands…

୨୧ he just really likes to watch you two get lost in each other, get lost in love… he is kind of a voyeur but neither you nor euronymous mind at all, always inviting him to join but sometimes he just doesn’t feel like it and would prefer to simply watch

♡ again, you and euronymous do not purposely leave him out of things! pelle makes the choice to watch on his own and it isn’t always like this…

୨୧ a lot of the time, pelle will join you when he feels like some physical touch and affection won’t hurt him! he’ll come over to you as you sit atop euronymous’ lap, his lanky frame standing over you from behind as he leans down to you, your head tilting back to meet his lips in a messy kiss whilst euronymous chuckles and runs his hands along your hips

♡ or even when you and euronymous are doing mundane daily tasks like washing the dishes together, pelle will quietly come up behind you and simply hold your hips whilst bringing his head down to rest his chin atop your shoulder! smiling just a little as you tilt your head to plant a kiss on his pale cheek which quickly blossoms into a rose red blush when euronymous pats his opposite cheek with a soapy, wet hand and coos at the two of you

“ you’re blushing pelle, you love her kisses, hm? give him another kiss, vakkar ” ( euronymous laughs softly as he says it, only causing you to shove him gently before giving pelle another kiss on the cheek and stroking his other cheek, noticing how warm they are with blood rushing to them as he blushes even deeper )

୨୧ this notion of enjoying to observe you and euronymous also comes into play when sleeping!

♡ when pelle doesn’t fall asleep with you and euronymous, he just really likes to watch you guys…

୨୧ again, this is not in a creepy way though! he does not watch you guys in a creepy way

♡ i suppose the right word would be admire, pelle really likes to admire you and euronymous as you both sleep… he likes to admire your faces as they’re completely soft and at rest, likes to watch as you and euronymous cling to each other even in the fog of sleep, his eyes glistening fondly as euronymous stretches a leg over yours and you reach a hand over to his chest…

୨୧ pelle just thinks you both look so at peace, so safe and beautiful! he could watch you two all night, probably even going to grab his sketchbook to draw the two of you, replicating your sleeping forms with love and dedication, trying to put your beauty down on his paper the best he knows how

♡ sometimes, after a while of drawing, pelle will start to get tired… his eyes becoming irritated and sore as he fights to stay awake, a very obviously losing battle as he sighs deeply before putting his sketchbook and pencil down on his desk, standing up and taking steps towards your shared bed, trying to tread quietly as to not wake you or euronymous

୨୧ pelle will either climb in between you and euronymous, both of your bodies automatically shifting in your shared sleep to let him get in the middle before you cuddle into him slightly, your head coming to rest on his chest as euronymous throws an arm over him

♡ or he’ll get behind you in a big spoon position, letting you cuddle further into euronymous’ chest as pelle cuddles you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder as he looks over at euronymous’ soft, sleeping face…

୨୧ it never takes him long to fall asleep with you two by his side, he feels… protected and at peace, as if he’s been taken to some kind of wonderland of serenity where he has no thoughts of harm or death, no thoughts of leaving

♡ and when you guys wake up, it is just a mess of limbs and long hair spread like halos against the pillows, legs tangled and blankets rustled

୨୧ none of you ever want to get up and out of bed though, the three of you are just so warm and comfy, so at peace as you quietly talk to each other about your plans for the day, accents stronger and voices deeper as they still wake themselves up

♡ euronymous is usually the first one to actually step out of bed, only to go take a piss, yelling back to you and pelle to ask if you want some breakfast, making you look over at pelle and ask him the same question in a soft voice, smiling as pelle nods his head a little before cuddling back into you more as you yell an answer back to euronymous

୨୧ your breakfast is never incredible, none of you really know how to cook all that great but especially not euronymous nor does the band shared house ever really have a lot of amazing food supplies in stock

♡ he usually just comes back to the room with three hot drinks balanced in his hands, cursing slightly under his breath at the heat burning his pale hands as he places them down on the bedside tables before jogging back downstairs to grab the food which consists of fruit and cereal, the fruit mainly being for pelle who enjoys just shoving the whole fruit into his mouth and getting eating over as fast as he can

“ argh! fuck, burning my damn hands… here, vakkar… made you some hot chocolate and pelle, some tea for you… let me go grab the breakfast, got some fruit for you too, pelle ” ( pelle asks euronymous if his hands are okay so quietly, speaking up just before he leaves the room with a near silent voice as euronymous looks back at him and smiles, smacking his hands together and assuring pelle he’s fine, waiting for pelle to nod in response before leaving )

୨୧ having two boyfriends who are in the same band together means you go to their band practices with them whenever you can!

♡ they both really like when you come along with them, both say that with you around, they perform much better… you’ll often be the one recording the band practices for them, shooting them both smiles and blowing them kisses from behind the camera, euronymous always throwing some lewd gesture back to you whilst pelle simply smiles back, long blonde hair messily covering his face from his headbanging

୨୧ it’s the same with concerts too! you always go to their concerts whenever you can, helping them get ready backstage, helping them with their corpse paint and other things

♡ you always help pelle with his corpse paint first, knowing he’s the much less grabby and horny one, he won’t be constantly trying to turn it into a make out session like your other boyfriend

୨୧ pelle more so just sits and lets you do it, holding your hips softly as you sit atop his lap, straddling his hips as you slowly drag the black painted brush across his face, laughing when you see his nose twitch from the ticklish feeling which causes him to smile up at you

♡ whilst you’re doing this, euronymous sits off on a chair to the side, watching the two of you with a cheeky smirk but not particularly saying much, just waiting his turn

୨୧ and his turn is always a stark contrast to pelle, euronymous is like a rabbit, always horny and wanting more! the second you lift a leg over his lap and go to sit, he’s grabbing your hips and pulling you down onto him, leaning his head up for a sloppy kiss before you shove him back, telling him to quit it as you begin to paint his face before feeling his hands reaching to your behind and groping your ass…

♡ you never let euronymous go too crazy, just letting him feel you up as much as he wants but always pushing him back when he leans up for what you know would be a sloppy kiss, not wanting to ruin the corpse paint you just spent your time doing for him…

୨୧ euronymous will usually look over to pelle who is either watching the two of you with soft eyes or staring into the mirror in front of him, asking him if he’s all good and prepared for the concert before helping you get up and off his lap

“ hey, pelle… you alright? everything all ready and fine? good… come on, vakkar, up and away we go ” ( euronymous will drag you in for a sloppy kiss before going on stage, he has to! and pelle, well he’s more content with a simple, soft kiss on the lips as you stroke his cheek, wishing him good luck as he pulls away )

♡ neither euronymous nor pelle ever really get jealous of each other!

୨୧ both of them are very comfortable with the affection you share between them and how you even it out, they never really feel that one is more loved than the other or anything like that

♡ maybe earlier in the newly formed throuple, pelle would’ve been slightly insecure and jealous watching whenever you kissed or showed any major affection to euronymous but you could always tell something was up and would ask him about it, both you and euronymous comforting him and assuring him that you love him just as much, proving it then and there by littering his pale face in butterfly shy kisses

“ pelle, come… you know she loves you, right? and you know i… care for you? don’t be silly, vakkar, show him ” ( euronymous still might have a little trouble saying out loud that he loves and cares for pelle, it’s just how he is, just an affect of the times, but he’ll work up to it )

୨୧ once the throuple relationship has been going on for a while, i think pelle would really lose almost all of his jealousy though some insecurity would remain but that’s something you guys easily help him with!

♡ pelle needs assurance in any type of relationship, it’s just how he is! and now, he has two partners to give him all the assurance and love in the world which he appreciates more than anything…

୨୧ when it comes to being jealous of other people though? yeah, that’s definitely much more common, from both of them

♡ they’ll watch for a short while, watch as someone obviously flirts with you as your face is entirely uninterested, both of them standing side by side as pelle roughly picks at some loose threads on his jeans and euronymous crosses his arms tightly, both of their eyes staring at the scene in front of them

୨୧ surprisingly, pelle is the first to mumble something down to euronymous, something about how they should get the person and torture them somewhere in the woods which causes euronymous’ eyes to widen slightly before looking up at pelle and smirking

“ yeah… yeah, that’s a damn good idea, pelle! you got a lot of good ideas in that swede brain, you know that? ” ( this will only cause pelle to blush slightly before he looks back over at you, seeing as you walk back towards them having finally gotten rid of the person yourself )

♡ when you come back over, euronymous will jokingly huff and tell you they were going to come over and deal with them, tell you about how they were planning to take them out to the woods and do some unsavoury things but this only causes you to laugh and lean up to pelle, kissing his still blushing cheek and asking if that would’ve been his idea to which he simply nods shyly, bringing an arm around you and leaning down to place a kiss on your lips

୨୧ you guys are a strangely lowkey throuple! not like you mean to be though, i mean in more of an accidental way!

♡ most people assume you’re dating euronymous, since he’s the one who is more openly affectionate and always kissing up on you, groping you and holding you! so when people see you kissing pelle or really doing anything affectionate with him whilst euronymous is away, they are quick to report back to euronymous, calling you just about every definition of a cheating whore under the sun as euronymous stares and strokes his chin sarcastically

୨୧ the second the snitch walks him back over to where he saw you loving up on pelle, euronymous immediately turns it into a huge joke and looks back at the person, gesturing towards you two and laughing

“ this? oh satan below, would you look at this? my vakkar, my one true love, is cheating on me with… her boyfriend! urgh… well, time for you to leave, hm? ” ( the person simply stares in shock and confusion for a good couple of seconds before mumbling and walking off, shaking their head as if trying to wake themselves up because no way euronymous is… sharing you, right? )

♡ even after so many instances of this happening, your throuple relationship is still not insanely known to people! either that or people take it as a joke, but the people who do know about it, like your close friends, are very uncaring towards it! they just want to make good music and party, who cares? and that’s good enough for you guys, especially for pelle who isn’t too fond of much extra attention…

୨୧ when pelle wants to go for a midnight walk in the forest surrounding the band shared house, you’ll almost always go with him but euronymous is a different story!

♡ euronymous is like a cat, when he’s comfy and warm in bed, he does not want to leave! and usually you’ll leave him to it, letting him get some sleep as you and pelle talk a nice walk but sometimes, just sometimes, you’ll tease him… sighing softly and saying well, you’ll just have to enjoy the lust of the full moon with pelle and pelle alone, oh well… hearing pelle snicker slightly and the implication of what you might get up to in the woods? that will almost always wake his horny self up and get him walking with you, complaining the whole time about how damn cold it is as pelle rolls his eyes, mumbling back to him about how it isn’t even that cold as you laugh between them, appreciating their friendly banter back and fourth, appreciating the side of pelle that so few people ever see

୨୧ y’know how i mentioned pelle being a bit of a voyeur up at the top of this? yeah, this very much comes into play during sex too

♡ pelle isn’t always in the mood for sex, just as he isn’t always in the mood for physical touch, but he does want to watch you be pleasured, he wants to watch as euphoria takes over your face

୨୧ so, sometimes he just watches as euronymous takes you… sitting on his desk chair or even just the bottom of the bed and watching with glazed over eyes, watching as your glistening bodies move together and listening to your shared moans fill the small bedroom

♡ pelle might masturbate whilst watching but sometimes, he’ll just… watch, he’ll admire the dance of intimacy take place in front of him, studying how your body takes to euronymous’ and if you ever reach your hand out to pelle? still engaged in a sloppy, mid thrust, make out session with euronymous? he’ll gladly lean over and take your hand in his, letting you squeeze it as euronymous hits that perfect spot inside of you, staring right into your eyes as you look up at him

୨୧ i don’t think pelle would ever be the biggest fan of double penetration, it just feels a little too cramped for him so when he has sex with you and euronymous, he either likes to spit roast or simply take turns having you, letting the other catch their breath in between rounds

♡ either way, this relationship is surprisingly casual and normal, none of you ever felt weird or crazy in it, you just felt right <3

[wendihoe]

Thinking about how at the end of the day Hoffman gets stuck with Adam’s body and Lawrence gets stuck with Peter’s body

[fingertipsmp3]

What is going onnnn

[tired-biscuit]

Logan would probably moan like he’s having the best sex of his life from just a shoulder massage. Do you think he’d deny he needs one? Or would you catch him off guard while he’s asleep?

18+ MDNI, fem!reader // cw: friends to lovers, unexpected mutual pining, logan realises he’s touch-starved after you offer to give him a backrub, and you both get turned on by it.

divider credit: div1nepetal

what if you’re, like… his friend, who’s grown to care deeply about him over the years and wants nothing else but to help him out a little from time to time in simpler, more ‘humanly’ ways because of said caring?

i mean, he’s got super fast healing and all that jazz, sure, however that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t get sore and thus — unbearably — cranky about it… and since you’ve known each other for so long, you’ve also gotten quite comfortable in each other’s company! so it wouldn’t be that odd if you were to offer to relieve the pain in your friend’s back when he swings by your place one random evening… right?

it’s really just to make him feel better, nothing else! because as soon as he flings himself onto his favoured spot on your worn out couch (a dent that he fucking made with the help of his heavy adamantium ass), you catch him repetitively stretching his neck from side to side and rolling his shoulders every so often with a furrowed brow and a tight-lipped expression that somehow manages to appear even grumpier than his usual neutral.

you steal glances because of it. listen intently to the laboured sighs he keeps letting out. and after leering at him and his struggles from the corner of your eye for a little while, not at all paying attention to the movie that you’re supposed to be watching with him, you finally succumb. you turn to the side and propose your offer whilst wiggling your magic fingers, as you like to call them, right in front of his face, and logan, as is expected, denies it by gently swatting your hand away.

taking over pretty much the entire space on the couch from how he’s manspreading, he doesn’t even peel his eyes from the television that — unlike you — he’s actually watching when he tells you that, “you don’t gotta worry about it” and that it’s not that bad, then. for some reason, he even feels the need to add that he can handle himself just fine.

it all makes your eyes roll.

and instead of listening, you rather choose to persist. he’s a wall whenever he makes up his mind on something, you know this, but you also know that if you nag him and scold him for long enough, prodding and picking at the cracks between phantom bricks, he’ll have no choice but to give in and give you what you want just to make you stop… though not without adding a snide comment or two himself during it because he can’t help but act like a dick sometimes around the people he’s fond of, it’s just the way he is!

as you tell him to scooch over and lay on his stomach, you feel just a little bit bad that you had to resort to annoying him in order to being allowed to help him. however, the guilt isn’t nearly as strong as is the sense of victory that you’ve just achieved, so you allow it to curl the corners of your lips into a satisfied, cat-like smile while you busy yourself by straddling the small of his back. he can’t see your face anyway, so what’s the issue?

meanwhile, logan lets out a tired exhale, smushing one cheek against the decorative pillow that he’s folded his arms under so that he can still watch the tv while you work your supposed magic. he listens to your sheepish apology and request to tell you if you’re too heavy, to which he responds by calling it nonsense and that you’re insulting him by thinking you’re heavy whilst sitting on top of a guy who’s literally filled with metal.

and filled with metal he is, indeed! it’s not long before you realize just how much freaking pressure you have to apply to his shoulders and back in order to make him feel something. how much physical strength you have to put into it, to the point that you’re nearly sweating because of it. popping a bone in order to ease some of the tension is literally impossible, so you aim your focus onto the taut cords of muscle instead.

you can see them even through the thin white shirt that he’s wearing — they’re that profound. flexed and attractive, attained with hard work. but they become even more visible when he reluctantly lets you roll the hem of his shirt up towards the collar, unfolding his arms just so that he can lift the upper half of his body, and you right along with him, with no visible effort whatsoever.

the air in the room shifts a little after that; it gets kind of tense. because all of a sudden, you’re skin to skin. his should be covered in scars, but he’s lucky enough to have them all healed and smoothed away by his power. and while he may not be able to feel relief in his adamantium-covered bones, he sure as hell can feel the warmth of your palms running down the slopes of his broad shoulders, the grazing of your nails that nearly makes him shiver when they reach a particularly ticklish part on the nape of his neck, the heat between your legs as you continue to sit on him, dressed in nothing else but a pair of comfortable and tiny shorts…

forcing himself to be a loner, logan isn’t used to being touched like this all that much, and it makes him sensitive. and as a result, he can’t help but squeeze his eyes shut and groan in absolute pleasure when you readjust by wiggling your hips on top of him and lean in super close to really dig your fingers into his strong back.

you pause at the sound; he can hear your breathing hitch a little before it continues to fan his shoulder blade. he’s already halfway on opening his mouth to say something in order to avoid things from getting too awkward even if he’s not the kind of man who minds if they do, when all of a sudden it hits him.

it’s barely there, just the faintest whiff of something sticky and sweet. it would be impossible to catch by a normal human, but he isn’t a normal human, now is he? no, he’s a mutant — a primal one, at that — and because of it, his nose is more than capable of catching a scent like this.

you’re… aroused. have gotten turned on by the sound he just made. are getting wetter between the legs by the second. and he can smell it.

fuck.

logan chooses not to say anything even if the pheromones that he’s steadily inhaling now are making his blood grow feverish to dangerous levels. meanwhile, you choose to remain quiet as well, simply continuing your ministrations as if nothing has happened.

something that does change, however, is the way you touch him. from that hiccup onward, you get more, should you say, intimate with it; even daring to comb your fingers through his rich, dark hair at some point and experimentally tugging at the roots, making him actually shiver this time.

he doesn’t just shiver, though. the action is so freaking good that it also causes his eyes to roll into the back of his head — he silently prays that he’s managed to squeeze them shut for a second time before you could catch it.

and that’s not all there is to it either. by now, his cock has become painfully hard in his pants. thick, hot and leaking pre-cum from how excited he’s getting. it makes laying down on his stomach extremely uncomfortable, but he thinks it’s better to suffer through it than enabling you to see what you’re doing to him both physically and mentally.

mind fogged by a mixture of your and now his own lust, he’s getting so horny that all he wants to do is rut into the couch while you continue to touch him. he doesn’t, of course, he’s been around for over two centuries so he’s pretty good at restraining himself, however that doesn’t mean that he likes doing it.

so he remains decent… well, somewhat. he pants a little bit, and he grunts and curses under his breath in a way that makes him sound like he’s balls deep in your cunt, folding you in a mating press and pounding away until you’re nothing but a whiny mess and his cum is trickling down your thighs, but he still tries his very best.

by the time you pat him on the shoulders and tell him you’ve finished, he fears he did, too.

[helaintoloki]

May I request a five x reader where they are living domestically and just being happy and lovey dovey especially experiencing everything they did together while being in the apocalypse, the time commission, stoping the other apocalypses etc (five x Lila doesn’t exist five x Lila doesn’t exist five x Lilia doesn’t-)

a/n: this piece is basically a big fuck you to s4 so enjoy five being happy and domestic with reader and not his own brother’s wife. also five and reader are mentally older adults but physically in their twenties

warnings: language, fluff, mentions of pregnancy

summary: now that the timeline has been fixed and the world is no longer in danger, five can enjoy a peaceful life with you

The sunlight that bleeds through the curtains is almost blinding as Five begins to stir himself awake. Stretching out his limbs until he hears a satisfying pop, he lets out a sigh and moves to reach out for someone that isn’t there. Your spot in bed is still warm which means you haven’t been gone for long, but Five still rises with a sense of urgency when greeted with your absence. Call it muscle memory from dealing with multiple kidnapping ploys against you or an old habit that just won’t die off after having to remain vigilant when protecting you from the enemy, but the poor boy’s heart always skips a beat when you go missing.

He finds you in the kitchen brewing a fresh pot of coffee, your back to him as you hum along to the radio that plays on the counter and search for Five’s favorite cup in the cabinet. He has to pause and take a breath to remind himself that you’re not in danger, your life of protecting timelines and ending apocalypses is over, and the fresh start you’ve made for yourselves isn’t in any jeopardy. You’re real, you’re alive, and you’re his.

“Morning,” Five softly calls with a careful smile as he rests a hand on the small of your back and presses a tender kiss to your lips.

“Good morning,” you great cheerfully before handing him his cup of coffee. “I didn’t hear you get up. Did I wake you?”

“Not at all,” he assures you before taking a hearty gulp of the hot liquid. After years of being together you know how to make Five’s coffee just the way he likes it and could probably do so in your sleep if asked. Your thoughtfulness is just one of the many traits of yours that have him wrapped around your finger always.

“We need to go grocery shopping,” you note dutifully as you peek your head into the fridge in search of breakfast. Frowning, you announce, “We’re out of eggs, so I guess it’s frozen waffles for breakfast.”

“Why don’t we go out for breakfast today?” Five suggests with an innocent shrug.

“Really? But you hate breakfast places. They can never make your coffee right.”

“I also hate seeing you eat frozen waffles three days in a row,” he reminds you with a wry chuckle. Maneuvering you out of the way, Five closes the fridge shut and gives you a gentle nudge in the direction of your shared bedroom. “Go on, get dressed. You can wear that new dress you bought the other day.”

“You’re right!” You exclaim with an excited gasp and rush off to your room before Five can change his mind. Not that he would, of course. Five would do anything to see you happy after all the shit he’s put you through in your time together. Sometimes he still wonders why you ever agreed to marry him, perhaps a slip of sanity or lack of care for your own wellbeing, but he wasn’t one to complain. He liked living the quiet life with you, and he wouldn’t change it for the world.

~~~

The night air is cool against your bare shoulders as you sit comfortably upon the porch swing and listen to the cicadas sing their evening song. The sun has long since set, but the string of lights that hang above you are enough to allow you to see the pages of your color by numbers book. Beside you, Five sits with a book in one hand while the other rests atop of your legs strewn across his lap. He enjoys sitting in the silence of your company as you remain glued together despite partaking in your own hobbies separately.

“We’ve been married for thirty years,” you state simply, breaking the silence but never once breaking your focus from your coloring book.

“Sure have,” is Five’s thoughtful reply. Setting his book aside, your husband gives your calf a gentle squeeze and turns to look at your concentrated features.

“Not including your siblings, it’s always been just us. Together in the apocalypse, partners under the Commission, husband and wife.”

“Is that a bad thing?” He asks, not quite sure what point you’re trying to make. Are you rethinking the marriage? Are you finally starting to have regrets about marrying him? He watches with bated breath as you set your materials to the side and finally meet his anxious gaze.

“I want to start a family of our own,” you finally confess, nervously fidgeting with your wedding ring as you await his response with hopeful eyes. “I don’t want it to be just us anymore.”

Sighing, Five leans his head back and shuts his eyes as he processes your request. He can’t say he’s surprised by your question; he’s noticed the way you eye babies in public, how you linger just a little too long to admire the window display of the infant clothing store at the mall, how you’ll hold the twins for hours in your arms and refuse to give them back until Diego has to physically pry them from your grasp. It’s only natural for you to feel this way, but that’s not the problem. The problem is Five isn’t exactly sure how he feels about becoming a father.

“I don’t know,” he admits carefully, taking great caution when choosing his next words so as to not upset you. “Having a kid, becoming parents… it changes everything.”

“I know we couldn’t before because there was the Commission and then the multiple apocalypses, and that’s why I never asked. But Five,” you urge gently, shifting to sit yourself up on your knees so you can reach over and take both of his hands in your own, “all of that is done with. We fixed the timeline, and all that end of the world nonsense is over with for good. No one is coming after us anymore or trying to kill me to get to you. We can properly grow old now and have a simple life together, wasn’t that always the goal?”

The boy is silent as he mulls over your speech. You’re completely right; saving the world and resetting the timeline to its proper place in order to ensure you and his siblings could have the lives you deserved was always the end goal. But after spending his entire existence trying to complete that task, he finds it hard to adjust to his new life of normalcy. Perhaps he’s not exactly scared of becoming a parent, but scared of what a baby would mean in the grand scheme of things. It would be proof that his work is truly over now, that he can turn his survival mode off after having it set to fight for so many years, and that’s a big adjustment for someone like him.

But when he looks at your hopeful gaze and sees the way you anxiously worry your lip between your teeth, he realizes that he’ll do anything to give you the happy life you deserve. He brings one of your hands to his lips and holds it tight as he murmurs his answer into the skin of your palm.

“If you think we’re ready, then I’m in.”

“You mean it?” You gasp while doing your best to withhold your excitement. Your eyes are wide and full of hope as Five lets out a soft chuckle before giving you a reassuring kiss.

“We survived the end of the world several times, how scary could raising a baby really be?”

He isn’t given an answer to his hypothetical question as you fling yourself into his arms and assault his face with multiple kisses along his skin. It’s safe to say his answer has eased your anxieties, and the boy can only laugh as you express your gratitude.

“I’m so happy you agree!” You exclaim giddily, your hands coming to rest upon his chest to ground yourself as you then suggest to Five’s surprise, “Let’s start trying tonight!”

“What?”

~~~

“That has to be the tiniest Hargreeves I’ve ever seen,” Klaus gushes adoringly as he takes in the details of the ultrasound photo in front of him. “Look at the little peanut, isn’t it precious?”

“I can’t believe Five is actually going to be a dad,” Allison notes in astonishment as the three of you turn your gaze to see him arguing with Diego over the proper way to baby proof your home while Ben eggs them on and ruins Luther’s efforts at trying to keep the peace. You’re only two months along, but Five is anxious to ensure that everything is perfect for your child’s arrival.

“You know, you might just be the first 65 year-old woman to give birth,” Klaus points out cheekily. “You should be in a world records book or something.”

“Very funny,” you retort sarcastically before taking back the ultrasound photo to hang up on the fridge. You falter for a moment when your eyes remain stuck to photo and your brain works on overdrive to commit the image to memory as best as you can.

“Everything okay?” Viktor asks after noticing the sudden change in demeanor.

“I just can’t believe this is real,” you murmur quietly, blinking back tears that threaten to spill. “After everything we’ve been through and everything we’ve lost, I guess a part of me worries that one day I’ll wake up and this will all have been a dream.”

“I know how that feels,” Allison assures you with a comforting squeeze to your shoulder. “But I promise you this isn’t a dream, and whatever you need we’ll be there.”

“Because you’re family now,” Viktor adds on with a confident nod. “And we look out for family no matter what.”

“Even though at one point in our lives we’ve all thought about killing each other,” Klaus notes humorously before giving you a tight squeeze.

“Everything okay over here?” Five asks, appearing at your side and placing a comforting hand on your back as you all turn your gazes towards the fridge and admire the newest addition to the family.

“Everything is perfect.”

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞.

Synopsis: What I think Alastors wife would be like, if he had one of course.

Warnings: mentions of blood, pinning, harassment?, Alastor being himself, not in a specific time period but at some point shifts to hell? Let me know if anyone is interested in a part two!!

Navigation!! // Masterlist!! // Serendipity Writes (event)

Alastors wife probably didnt like him at first, and that’s a guarantee. He likes a challenge, but Alastor also likes being liked by people. It fills his ego, makes him feel good about himself. He likes to watch people stumble and fall but quite literally cracks under the pressure of doing just that when it comes to winning you over. Chances were he was constantly trying to figure you out, for two reasons. One, being that he didn’t understand how you couldn’t like him. I mean come on, look at him! He’s got the charm, the manners, the style and the class, the status. What more could you want? The second reason being, the more you denied him, the more he took it as a challenge, the more he wanted you.

Well, surprise surprise, you dont like people with an image to keep up; and to his dismay, that’s exactly what he does. He projects an image. One he refuses to change, and even after marrying you, still doesn’t drop the image, but starts to become more real and honest with himself.

“People who project an image of themselves to others are just trying to fool themselves into being someone they aren’t.” Was what you told him.

Alastor had also asked you out multiple times before you finally said yes. Everyone knows Alastor is very picky with the people he chooses to surround himself with. Everyone he associates with is either there to serve him, or to provide him with something, even if they’re unaware of it. Which only made you trust him less. What purpose did you serve him? What if one day he found you no longer useful and tossed you to the side? Well what were you to do then?

Denying him proved to be a challenge in itself, seeing that he’s quite literally everywhere all at once.

He’d try cheap tricks first. Buying you gifts, constantly showing up at your doorstep with a bouquet of flowers or a stuffed animal. One time he even got you a whole gift basket of your favorite treats. How sweet~ if it was actually about you and not him just trying to patch up his ego. Well at least that was what you thought on the matter.

If that didnt work he’d resort to going ghost. After all, people only miss you when you’re gone right? Well not in this case. He had left you alone physically, at least to your knowledge, but he had still kept a close watch on you. Why, he just knew it would bother you that he suddenly stopped! Until he overheard you speaking with a friend about how happy you were to finally get some peace and quiet. Well that simply wouldn’t do. After all, you should always make an impact, and what kind of impact would he be leaving on you if you went back to your old boring life? No no that just wont do dear.

He’ll start showing back up at your doorstep, taking you on surprise outing to force you to spend time with him. He’ll take you on a walk around a nearby park, a restaurant one day, the picture show the next. He has a long list of places to take you, so you’ll never go to the same place twice! Get your dancing shoes because he’s gonna take you out to the town for the night, after all the city never sleeps! This is when he becomes less forceful, but more of a decent calm. He begins to listen more when you speak, and you actually begin to care about what he’s saying, what a shock!

It’s almost like a switch flips after your outings. He’ll take you to an orchestra show, snickering to himself when he sees your eyes begin to water as the show closes out. He’ll force you to hold onto his arm as he walks you across the street on a rainy night, making sure you don’t slip or trip on the wet pavement. If you ever do, he’ll try his best to catch you and if he doesn’t? Oh what a nightmare, it seems he’s fallen too! For you that is~

You two begin to feel closer, not only physically but emotionally. He gets you to open up about your personal struggles, and in turn, he’ll share some of his own, but not too much. He doesn’t allow himself to be fully and completely vulnerable with you, not yet. But he does try his best to sympathize with you when you share your piece of mind with him. He feels accomplished to know this part of you, and his ego is the last thing on his mind anymore, but instead you take up all the space.

He doesn’t use pet names for you, not cute ones anyway. He’ll call you his devilish belladonna, especially if you love flowers. His creepy spider Lillie. He’ll often speak in the ‘language of flowers’, and will educate you on it if you don’t know so you know exactly what he’s talking about.

He’s the type of person to correct people in public to make them feel stupid, but he never does that with you. Instead he’ll wait until it’s just the two of you and tell you jokingly how wrong you were. You’ll get upset because he let you look like a fool, but in his mind he’s just protecting your feelings. If anyone else corrects you, they’ll have their mouth sewn shut that’s for sure!

He never gets you the same bouquet of flowers. They’re always different, and every week or so you have a new one. He keeps a separate batch for himself so he knows when to get you another. That being said he also makes the bouquets himself, he does not buy them for you already made.

When you finally take Alastor up on his offer to court you properly, he is over the moon about it! Finally, you seem to be coming to your senses dear! Though you quickly follow that comment up with a “Let the blood rush to your head first.” He just bats his lashes at you with a smile. You always know how to make him feel so loved!

Gets very jealous very easily. If he sees you laughing with someone that isn’t him, he’ll size them up before deciding if they’re a threat or not. Heaven forbid anyone actually put their hands on you and uh oh! Limb of the floor someone come get it!

His possessive nature is rooted in abandonment, and thus being said, he has deep attachment issues to you. You are never out of his sight when you two begin dating, and you’re hardly ever far from him in general. You two dress similarly too, especially if you’re from the same era. He’ll switch up your wardrobe slowly so it complements his.

He isn’t one for strong PDA unless he feels like he needs too or just has a strong want too. Usually it’s an arm around your waist, or you hanging onto his arm loosely. The most he’ll ever really do is a kiss on the back of your hand or to your temple. That being said, he’s like this for various reasons.

One, he has a lot of enemies, which means that not not only does that put you in danger, but if you’re also a powerful overlord, it puts him at risk too, though he doesn’t care much about that part.

Second, he doesn’t like physical contact much, and though he always makes an exception for you, he has his image and pristine reputation to keep up. Which you extremely dislike but tolerate because it’s Alastor and if he hasn’t changed much in centuries, nothings going to change ever.

Alastor is very very fond of you, whether you believe it or not. Your fiery attitude has him whipped more than he likes to admit. He’ll joke with other sinners that he’d sacrifice you to save himself but you both know that isn’t true, his nervous ticks prove it to be false, if you do say so yourself.

He’s very fidgety. He’ll tug a piece of your clothing or twirl a strand of your hair between his claws. If you claim he’s messing up your hair he’ll cast a tornado of shadows around you to fuck it up even more, and then smiling at you lovingly when you threaten to cut his ears off because you can’t tell if they’re his hair or just furry ass ears. You always give him a good laugh.

Other sinners are actually convinced you both hate each other, but turf wars on the news show that you two are the most in love when you’re wreaking havoc on innocent sinners for no possible reason other than the fact you two had an argument and the best way to settle it? Dancing in the rain, which actually isn’t rain, just blood falling from the sky because you like to kill people for fun.

“My darling looks the best in red if I do say so myself! Especially if she’s dressed by another’s remains, oh the beauty!”

Alastor has and will continue to get in his feelings about you and his mother getting along so well. He loves you both to pieces, so seeing his two favorite people together makes his dead heart swell with joy.

He’ll ask you to accompany him to the tailors, he values your opinion more than others so you often make adjustments to his suit and he’s just like ‘Whatever she says that’s what’s going on the suit.’ You also make him your personal dressing doll, trying different patterns and styles on him for fun. Alastor is a true skinny jeans hater and he will die on that hill, again. He really appreciates the 60’s style, but prefers to stick to his own decade.

He will take you out hunting with him, and the two of you share breakfast together with the fresh meat you’ve caught. He only gets the best quality for you because he refuses to have you two ‘eating like chums’. A restaurant tried to lie to the two of you, saying their meat was high quality and fresh. Alastor killed everyone in it and you two shared remains like a true power couple. Hells finest of course. ;)

He’s very critical of picking out jewelry for you. Hunting for the perfect ring for you took him ages, mainly because he knew exactly what he wanted but no jeweler had what he wanted all in one ring. So instead he forces them to make him a custom one. Torn limbs and bloody parts later, you have the ring that Alastor worked so hard to give you. He proposes to you Extermination day, claiming he’d love to spend another year in hell with you before the angels come to rip you two apart from each other. It was such a sweet day, at least to you it was.

The type of relationship where he plays the piano and you sing. He loves when you sing and will gush about you to anyone in sight even if he doesn’t know them.

Is very needy in private. He’s a stage 10000 clinger, and will stick to you like his life depends on it, but will be damned if anyone catches him. You don’t tell anyone about it, you like the private life.

You two have cook offs all the time. You make the hotel staff judge, and ultimately Niffty is the tie breaker because she’s brutally honest. Once she told Alastor he should stay out of the kitchen because women were better at it for a reason… harsh!

He was fine though, he got her back by ridding the hotel of bugs. He knows she likes chasing them around and for that she sobbed at his feet for ten minutes asking him to bring them back. It didn’t take much actually, Sir Pentious brought them back on his own, much to Charlies dismay.

He loves to read with you. You two often read a book and once you both finish you have a tea session over it. It starts off being about the book and then somehow shifts to just gossiping and talking shit about the other overlords, except for Rosie, we love Rosie in this household.

Speaking of, Rosie is usually where you get your clothes from. She’s a sweetheart when she isn’t picking pieces of muscle from her teeth, that sharp smile is a killer! She loves to talk about Alastor with you, and usually she’s where you go after you two have had an argument. You’re also her personal Barbie doll. She puts you in outfits and she and Alastor judge over them. Nine times out of ten you leave her boutique with a new wardrobe every time.

Now let’s talk about Vox.

Honestly the whole reason Vox knows about you is probably because he was digging through Alastors shit. But when he sees you? Oh lord, this man is HOOKED.

He doesn’t even know how Alastor managed to get you entangled with him. He finds out about you when you and Alastor aren’t dating yet, and he basically jumps at his chance to try to be with you.

Vox will forever consider you the one that got away, you can’t change my mind.

Alastor has proven time and time again that he’s basically better than Vox. He took a seven year back, came on the radio one day and boom all his viewers were back. In Alastors mind there’s no competition, just Vox being obsessed with the fact Alastor said no.

Valentino uses it against Vox all the time, and it will always make Vox buffer.

[k-hotchoisan]

heavy and sticky

<seonghwa x fem! Reader>

Being sensitive is one thing, being easily turned on is one thing, being perverted is one thing. But being completely enamoured with you with all three combined? It’s just hell for Seonghwa.

Genre/warnings: smut, pwp, Seonghwa is perverted and desperate, cumming/orgasms with and without physical contact, overstimulation, masturbation, pussy eating, praise kink, cream pie, I hope this is filthy enough

A/n: I’m doing this for Seonghwa. Happy Valentine’s Day my darlings 💖

Tag list: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @sanhwajjong @interweab @mylovelymito

Seonghwa has a problem.

Technically three, but it stemmed from one. So he likes to think of it as just one, which just so happens to be you.

He doesn’t know when it even started, but he thinks he remembers how at least. He knows this ridiculous crush on you fully bloomed when he saw you in a sundress that hiked up a little too high when your friend group went on a holiday, and he thinks how ridiculous it is when he lets himself grow closer and closer to you.

And now all he thinks about is how your skin would feel against his and it’d get him hard way too fucking easily. It doesn’t help that you adore being around him—it doesn’t help with his case at all. You stick to him like glue.

You don’t know that he’s so sensitive whenever you lean your head on his shoulder, whether intentional or not, because the moment the smell of your shampoo hits his senses, he blanks him out, only filled with you, and then he has growing problem beneath his underwear. From then on, any thought he has of you just spirals into a frenzy for Seonghwa.

At this point a crush is an understatement. He’s probably head over fucking heels for you.

What really is the cherry on the fucking icing is when he wakes from a wet dream of this fuck ass vivid dream of you and your poor pussy being completely ruined by his cock, your moans so fucking real he swears that you were really there letting him fuck you stupid, cum warm and thick in his pants when he stirs from his slumber, moans in between pants when more white spurts out of his wet and pathetic cockhead. He’s so fucked. It would have been fine if he didn’t have plans. But the fact that he’s meeting you for coffee in a few hours just makes the whole situation all the more ridiculous.

Now he’s seated across you, listening to your voice as if he didn’t cum all over himself just hours before the both of you meet. But thank the gods the remnants of a dream don’t last for long. Seonghwa likes to believe that he’s holding up well, and he is, taking sips of his iced drink, listening intently. He thinks you’re so pretty when you blink and break away your eye contact before your gaze flutters back to him, bright and cheerful as you run your mouth. Seonghwa wonders to himself how should he keep you smiling and glowing like that for him.

And then suddenly the thought of you under him, completely undone and messed up—eyes rolled back every time he fits his cock right inside you—has him blinking and sitting upright. Fuck. He adjusts his pants, obviously it doesn’t help, not when any point of friction is a contender to making him just cum right there and then. It takes Seonghwa almost all of his willpower to hold himself back and not palm his erection.

Seonghwa tries his best to slip back into the conversation the both of you were having, but he can barely pay attention, his gaze is flickering from your face to your body, to your lips and there he goes, his jaw clenched and his body begins to heat up. He doesn’t know how he’s able to pull through the coffee date with you, but the moment he slams the car door and starts the engine, he already knows who’s etched in his mind while he lets himself cum when he reaches home.

It’s a vicious cycle—the more he meets you, the more he craves for you, and then he asks you out to meet you even more. Seonghwa can’t help it—you’re like dopamine to him.

His wet dreams merge into his fantasies—after meeting you, he would reach home, pent up and so fucking horny that he can’t think—only filled with filthy thoughts of you. The one that fucks him over the most so far? Definitely the one where he almost loses composure when he watches you stretch when you were working out with him at the gym. He imagines himself tearing a hole in the tights you wear that hugs your ass so perfectly, no panties, just your bare, wet cunt exposed to the cool air before he slides himself in, listening to you choke on your moans while you cry about him stretching you open, and dirtying the mats below the both of you, while he’s completely lost in the warmth of your pussy. Needless to say, the combination of a pumping heart rate and the rush of endorphins results in a thick, veiny erection in his shorts, which he could barely hide if it wasn’t for the fact that he wears shorts on the looser end. By the time he reached the bathroom of his apartment, cum would leak past the opening of his shorts and he’d be panting, overstimulating himself until he softens.

The extent of the catastrophe? Which was single handedly the worst and best thing that ever happened. It had gone to the extent that the sound of your voice would drive him over the edge. Seonghwa’s mind is hazy with his legs open, fucking his hand. Until his phone screen suddenly lights up.

With your caller ID flashing across the screen.

Seonghwa knows he shouldn’t fucking do this.

But he can’t stop. The thought of hearing your voice just over the phone while he fucks his hand overrides any ounce of rationale he has, especially when he’s completely clouded in pleasure.

So he slides to answer.

“Hello? Hwa?”

Fuck. The way your voice just right at his ears. Seonghwa shivers slightly at thought of you seated before him, watching him with his shirt ridden up all the way past his perky tits while he bucks his hips into his hand.

“H-hey. What’s up, y/n?”

He’a edging himself, his strokes going slower, trying to compose himself, so he doesn’t give himself away, sweat beading down his temple and down his abs, his thighs twitching at every stroke he gives himself when your voice floods his ear.

“Seonghwa!” Your voice echoes through the loudspeaker, and Seonghwa bites back a groan at the way you’re calling his name, precum oozes out of the silt of his cockhead.

“Are you busy right now?” You ask.

He definitely is. “No I’m-hngh-not.” Fuck. He’s going breathless.

“You sure? You sound funny Seonghwa” you respond, wondering why his voice is suddenly an octave lower.

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m good. Fuck”, he heaves, failing at controlling his ragged breathing. It just feels so good hearing you call his name while he keeps leaking. He wonders how long he can keep himself sane while talking to you.

But you already caught wind of it—the breathlessness, the soft whines that escapes in between the words he says, the way his voice goes deeper. You’re not dumb. He just sucks at trying to hide it all.

And you’re also craving for him just as much as he is for you.

“Do you wanna open the door so I can help you out with that?”

Seonghwa’s phone clatters onto the floor, his eyes widen in shock. Shit. You found out.

And you’re outside his apartment. He wonders how he should approach this—ignoring you completely, blowing you off, making an excuse or just let you in? But the thought of him being caught by you only rouses him further, and he knows how much of a fucking pervert that makes him. He swallows hard as he pulls up his boxers, picking up his phone before he reaches for the door, his heart pounding in his ears.

There you are, standing right before him with the most poker face, before your fingers snakes around his wrist, shutting the main door as you lead him to his bedroom.

Seonghwa lands on his bed with you on top of him, a coy smile spreading across your cheek as you tilt his chin up with your finger, admiring the way he licks his plump lips in anticipation, his eyes wide and so entranced. His boxers are drenched to the point where you’re able to see the shape of his cockhead.

You make him watch you drop each piece of clothing onto the floor, agonisingly slow, almost like a strip tease and Seonghwa is eating up every single part of it until you’re just towering over him with you lingerie on. You sit on his lap, dangerously close to his erection.

“I was just about to ask you if you wanted to hang out since I was in the area. But I guess you had other plans, hmm?” You ask, tugging against the waistband of his underwear, the mild friction of fabric against his sensitive cock pulling a gasp out of the male.

You tug, and he lets you, his cock springing out as his boxers are strewn somewhere.

“Do you want me to touch you?” You ask, letting your hands rest on his thighs, giving him slow rubs, watching his cock twitch with every squeeze.

“Please. Touch me. Fuck me”, he says, albeit breathlessly, his fingers fisting against his bedsheets. Shame doesn’t exist in his vocabulary now.

He’s so fucking sensitive right now that the moment your hands start pumping his length, he already feels like he’s about to blow his load, but he forces himself to not to, even though strings of his sanity continue to snap one by one. Seonghwa’s cock is heavy against his abdomen, the previous edging session making his cock more sensitive than before, completely soaked and sticky. He swears you don’t know how long he’s been craving for this, needing this.

You’re soaked enough as it is, and the way Seonghwa is looking at you, so wet and desperate, his eyes so glazed out. You think he looks pretty when he’s on the verge of tears.

Maybe you should start taking advantage of it from now on.

Your fingers rest under his chin. “How long have you been touching yourself thinking of me?” You ask, his cock resting on your ass. He feels like he’s about to break.

“A while”, he mutters.

“Made you wait, didn’t I?”

Surprisingly he shakes his head, eyes still glued to yours. Even after all the perverse thoughts he flooded his mind with of you, he thinks it was worth every second to wait—he just didn’t expect it to come down to this so soon. You cup his jaw with your hands this time, leaning in to press your lips against his, sending his mind into a completely spiral at the taste of you. Seonghwa can’t get enough of the way you’re swirling your tongue against his, swiping his bottom lip, giving his bottom lip gentle bites and he chases after the sensation like starved person, his hand pressing against the back of your neck while the other is soft against your jaw. It’s passionate and so hungry for that few short minutes before you pull away, watching Seonghwa swallow hard as the sticky fluids from his cock stain your ass. Well? Not like you minded.

You pull your panties to the side, lifting your hips over his swollen cock, slowly sinking down, inch by inch, watching Seonghwa’s abdomen flex, while Seonghwa watches you with glazed eyes.

“Fuck. Oh fuckkkkk. So good. You’re so fucking warm”, he whimpers. Seonghwa swears he came just a little when he’s fully seated in you. His face contorts as he sinks into the pillows beneath him, trying to control his breathing as he shuts his eyes.

He’s so adorable, you think to yourself, watching him completely melt when he’s inside you. His hands are spread out on your thighs, then becoming a grip when you start moving, slowly creating a rhythm to bounce off his cock, the wet sounds of skin slapping growing louder by the seconds.

“That’s it, baby. You’re doing so well for me”, you sigh, your mind plunged in the depths of pleasure as you bounce on his cock, watching Seonghwa with his thick furrowed eyebrows before he slowly opens them, his eyes rolling back.

He feels like he’s in heaven. Seonghwa thinks like it can’t get any better than this. Your moans are the only thing he hears, your cunt swallowing him is the only thing he feels.

Then the feeling hits—the feeling of wanting to burst. He stares up at you with a pleading gaze before he says, “gonna cum. Oh my fuck.” His head is spinning with stars, vision clouded with a dizzy white before he stills in you, holding your thighs down as he fills your cunt with spurts of warm cum. Seonghwa’s moans are pitched and they sound so fucking pornographic—it makes you want to overstimulate him over and over till he completely breaks. He’s breathless, moans turning into whines when you don’t lift yourself off him just yet, and squeezing his cock.

The base of his cock is slowly growing thick and sticky with cream and cum, but Seonghwa is craving for more. He is insatiable. His arms wrap around you, and in one swift motion, you’re suddenly below him. He pretty much folds you into half—well, mostly bending your legs and letting him stare at your sopping pussy like a fucking pervert as he pulls out and slides in again, watching the way his cum seeps out of you on top of forming thick strings of cum. Gods, you swear Seonghwa is such a perfect pervert.

“Let me eat you out, please. Want you to cum on my face, y/n”, he pleads, even though he’s already lowering himself down to your cunt. “I’ll make sure you feel so fucking good. Please.”

You giggle, tangling your fingers in Seonghwa’s hair, stroking his soft locks.

“If you do, you can cum in me as many times as you want.”

Your reply alone sends the poor man into the fucking heavens, having him pull your completely cum soiled underwear off your hips before latching his tongue against your soft and creamy folds.

Fuck. Seonghwa thinks he found his heaven.

Repeated flicks with this tongue against your clit pulls loud moans out of you, the way his tongue rubs against it over and over again, his eyes staring up at you like an angel’s.

Soon enough, your fingers are tugging against his hair while you drive him deeper into your cunt. Seonghwa can’t help but rut against the bedsheets to your moans, his eyes shutting from time to time from the friction of his cock and the sound of your voice as you call out his name whenever he hits a sweet spot.

“Hwa, I’m cumming. Oh, you’re such a good boy”, you mutter, shifting your hips as you fuck against his wet tongue, and Seonghwa’s hands are holding your hips down, your clit pulsing erratically on his tongue when your orgasm floods your senses. He watches the way you’re squirming—the way your head falls back, your legs spread open, the way you’re calling out, “Seonghwa, Seonghwa, Seonghwa!” when you’re rapidly falling apart on his tongue. The grip on your hips tighten, soft gasps and pants leave his lips as red flushes against his cheeks once more.

Your thighs clamp against his head as slick and cream dirties the sheets beneath you, the sensitivity ramping up in levels once your high wears off. Nonetheless his tongue is still lapping up your cum like he’s dehydrated, and your thighs relax to let him off. He looks so fucking pussydrunk that it makes your head spin.

Seonghwa sits up, albeit shakily, and you see why. His cum sits in a puddle where he was lying down on the bedsheets, some trickling down his thighs. You can’t help but smile, crawling towards him to close the distance between the both of you, stopping right before him to kiss his jaw.

“Tell me all your fantasies about me, Hwa. Let’s make them all come true”, you hum calmly, rubbing his inner thighs gently, watching his eyes form hearts as more thick white spurts out of his red cockhead.

You know he still has rounds to go.

[thejeangreysummers]

boxer au simon “ghost” riley

⁃ everyone is exiting a kickboxing class you show up doe eyed with your little matching set and a bag the same color. simon immediately crosses the gym before soap or gaz get a chance to.

⁃ “i think i have something you’ll like.” simon offers hesitantly, if any other tall masked stranger approached you like that you’d leave for the sake of self preservation. but he’s so hesitant in the way he offers looking above your head and not making direct eye contact. his shoulders are drawn together like he’s trying to make himself smaller.

⁃ he ducks behind the desk and pulls out some Everlast hand wraps in the same color as your clothes.

“your favorite color.” he says jokingly

“how’d you know?” you laugh and for the first time he looks you in the eye and something shifts in your chest.

“you’ve got good taste.” he quips

he’s extends his hand in front of yours and you’re so dazed, you just hold his hand. simon is already tipsy of your laugh he considers kissing it. he begins wrapping your hand and the realization makes you flush with embarrassment.

⁃ until he starts talking… he’s explaining how the wraps work and which gloves he recommends and your initial reaction shifts into annoyance. you want to fuck with him just a little bit, because who is he to explain anything to you? he probably doesn’t even work here and you’ve been kickboxing for the last two years.

the stress relief it gave after your last break up worked wonders.

⁃ “do you want to practice with me love?” he offers after he lingers on your wrist

you concede and slip under the bar of the ring. his eyes tell you everything. eager to be close to you he explains a hook and a jab, of course you nod and smile feigning ignorance as he tells you how he’ll explain the kicking afterward. you’re feeling a little triumphant when the false jab distracts him as you sweep him, he falls and makes a jagged hurt noise.

⁃ your playfulness turns to panic

“are you okay? i’m so sorry i didn’t mean to actually hurt you. i kind of expected you to grab my leg or move or laugh? i didn’t mean to—” you fall to your knees beside him worried he hit his head. he shifts on to his back leaning lazily on he’s elbows and he’s smiling at you. that little fucker. or huge fucker honestly, he’s so tall he’s practically scraping the celling.

⁃ “you’re such an asshole.”

“wounded my pride, worse than a physical injury honestly.” simon looks up at you cheekily

“how long have you been doing this? do you work here? why did you come up to me?”

simon wants to toy with you a little more. he loves your short temper paired with your softness it’s intriguing. you’re so sweet worrying about him, would you be like that at one of his matches? anxious fluttering around saying a hail mary he won’t get hurt? or would you bask in the stadium lights, proud that he belongs to you? he intends to find out immediately.

“well ‘m a professional love, a man’s got to eat someway. my trainer, price, doesn’t love when i frighten the clients, but you’re too pretty to avoid.” simon winks at you like his voice isn’t flirtation enough

“i’m not afraid of you.” you lean in front of him on the mat and he gets a long look at your tits when he meets your eyes again you’re aware of how public this display is. you scramble to you feet and extend a hand to help him up and simon doesn’t move.

“get up.” you command in a harsh whisper

he shakes his head shamelessly drinking in your figure.

“seriously, get up someone could come in here.” you urge extending to gently kick him and in a moment he’s pulling your ankle shifting to ensure you fall directly on top of him. he places a gentle hand on the small of your back, respectful almost hesitant.

“now we’re even.” he teases

he smells like mint a touch of lavender and something distinctly him. you want him to lower his hand even though you’re in public. you almost want to kiss him, but then he’d get the wrong idea about your intentions. you were supposed to be scouring the price for this gym across from your apartment nothing more. he probably does this with every pretty customer that walks through the doors. you push yourself up using his chest as leverage.

“we are not even, you tricked me!” you scoff

“then let me make it up to you let me buy you dinner.” he offers

you can’t date this stranger at the gym across from you apartment. you’d see each other again, after dating your co-worker you decided not mix buisness and pleasure. boxing is an essential part of your routine, it’s safe and consistent. he’s roguishly attractive and probably not staying in the country.

“no thanks, you’re something but y’know you’re not from around here. i want a serious relationship.” you know your honesty will scare him away and you’ll never speak again

“well if you get off me, i can get on my knees and propose” simon smirks

you realize that you’ve been leaning directly on top of his chest, not shifting or standing.

“it’s one knee.” you counter as you slide off him and stand up

“for you i’d beg.” simon admitted

the way he looks at you for a second you almost believe him.

“i’m sure you offer that to ever pretty girl who walks in here.”

simon is serious about the begging, he’d wait as long you wanted to have you underneath him. but someday soon the sweet sound of you whimpering his name would be fill the room. you’d be the one pleading for him just to put the tip in.

“come to my match tonight. if i win, you let me buy you dinner. our first real date.” simon promises

he’s such trouble and you want him despite it.

how many girls batting their eyelashes and love struck boys come to his matches longing to see him afterwards? one of them will surely take your place if you don’t attend.

“what if you lose?”

“i won’t.” simon drawls

“you think you’re that good?” you taunt

“i think you’re lucky.” simon breathed

[moonstruckme]

James being a big bear of a boyfriend and always just like lifting u up so easily to hug and sit on his lap and even tho u hate when anyone else does it he’s so BEEFY that you’re fine with him doing it

Yessssss I'm not much of a physical touch person irl but James I would allow

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 847 words

Sirius is trying to follow Remus’ example and focus on the puzzle, but his eyes keep flitting up to you worriedly. You’ve monopolized the couch, laying flat with a hand cast over your eyes and your mouth pinched in obvious discomfort. He’d tried rubbing your calf and Remus had offered you tea, but they’d both given up when the attention only seemed to worsen your mood. Remus suggested they work on the puzzle while you rest (not Sirius’ favorite activity, but forced upon him because it keeps him quiet) and now they’re both simply trying not incur your wrath. 

“Quit looking at me,” you growl without opening your eyes. 

In Sirius’ case, not doing a very good job. 

“Fine, sheesh,” he says, and you press your lips together like you’re restraining yourself from snapping at him. 

You cringe when the door opens, every line of you pulling taut. James is all smiles as he tosses his gym bag to the floor with a heavy thump. “Hello, my loves!” His voice is a decibel short of booming, but it softens when he sees you on the couch. “Oh, sorry, is she napping?” 

Remus shakes his head, lips pursed as he watches your hand tighten over your eyes. “Headache,” he explains quietly. 

“Oh, I’m sorry lovie.” James reroutes from the kitchen, heading for you. Sirius tenses. “How bad is it?” 

“Prongs,” Sirius whispers urgently, “don’t—”

But James has already lifted you, one hand under your knees and another supporting your back as he moves you smoothly from your chosen position of rest and into his lap. He makes it look like nothing, which is the first offense (Sirius isn’t sure which of you he’s more jealous of), but the second is that you let him. Sirius and Remus have both looked up in alarm, waiting for a biting protest that doesn’t come. Instead, you remove your hand from your face, burying in it James’ brawny shoulder instead. 

“Bad,” you grumble, but your tone lacks the venom you’d spat at Sirius a moment before. 

James coos like he’s got a kitten in his lap instead of a viper, bringing his considerable arms around you. His palm cups the back of your neck, kneading gently at the tensed muscles there. “Where does it hurt, darling?” 

“Everywhere.” 

“By your eyes?” 

“No.” 

He hums, brows furrowing as he works steadily at your neck. You’ve gone nearly lax in his arms, trusting him to hold you up as you slump against his front. “Have you been drinking water?” 

“It’s not that.” Some of the irritation is back in your tone, Sirius notices, but it’s been markedly softened for James. “I had tons of water this morning.” 

“Probably a tension headache then, yeah?” He looks to Remus, who nods. The quiet boy looks as dumbstruck as Sirius feels. 

James moves his grip to your sides and lifts you again, rearranging his legs to get more comfortable before placing you back in his lap. He places a hand on each side of your head, thumbs pushing into your temples and rubbing in slow, soothing circles. You begin to look like you might fall asleep.

“This is so unfair,” Sirius hisses to Remus. 

“He has a power,” Remus admits weakly, “which transcends understanding.” 

“Do you want some tea?” James murmurs to you after a while. Sirius’ eyes have gotten stuck watching the movement of his forearms, and he snaps them reluctantly back up. 

You hum, uncertain but definitely considering it. Behind you, Remus throws up his hands. James sees him and smiles, shoulders shaking with quiet laughter. 

“I’m getting the sense this isn’t the first cup you’ve been offered,” he says, looking immensely entertained. 

You sigh, but even that sounds pleasurable as his big thumbs drill diligently into your temples. “Yeah, but I just wanted to be left alone.” 

Remus and Sirius exchange a look. You seem perfectly fine with company now. 

“Don’t be silly,” James chides lightly, “a warm drink will make you feel better. Remus, love, would you be so kind as to make her a cup?” 

“Sure.” His voice is gruff, but then you murmur a quiet thanks, Rem and Sirius actually sees the moment his heart turns to mush. “No problem,” he says, softer now. 

“Attagirl.” James’ hand drops to give your shoulder a squeeze, his bicep flexing slightly with the movement. Christ, Sirius might have to fake a headache later, if this is the sort of treatment those receive. “Drink your tea and then we’ll get you to bed, yeah? You can sleep the rest of this off.” 

“You know, I offered to carry her to bed earlier,” Sirius says, still slightly bitter, “and she told me very clearly to fuck off.” 

You don’t sound so much exasperated now as exhausted. “Siri, when you carrying me doesn’t involve setting me down every five steps for a break, then we’ll talk.” 

James’ laugh surprises both of you, and he apologizes hastily for jostling you, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before resuming his ministrations. You don’t seem all that upset about it.

[babyleostuff]

calling them your boyfriend when you’re married | ot13

[ ☁️] when you call them your husband version

warnings: generally gn!reader, but mention of "wife" and "girlfriend" with minghao

𝜗𝜚 choi seungcheol

just… don’t do this. he would get offended as hell, probably would give you a whole ass silent treatment, being extra pissy and mean, like - HE’S YOUR HUSBAND, HE DIDN’T MARRY YOU FOR YOU TO GO AROUND AND CALL HIM YOUR BOYFRIEND!!! i mean, he kind of gets it that you said it as a joke to tease him, but it doesn’t make it any funnier for cheol, he’s like a lil puppy anytime you call him your husband, so don’t use the b-word around him, please. you’d really have to give him lots and lots of kisses and pouts for him to forgive you.

𝜗𝜚 yoon jeonghan

for some reason turns into a mum, and scolds you? “yah, i’m not your boyfriend anymore, why are you calling me that?” like, jeonghan would give you a whole ass lecture on why he does not want to be called “boyfriend”, and why you should only use the term “husband". he’d be extra petty too, if you asked him to help you with something he’d be like: “oh, so now you need your boyfriend’s help, hm?” and he would not let this go quickly, he’d make your life extra harder that day because he. is. not. your. boyfriend.

𝜗𝜚 joshua hong

takes this very personally because he's the epitome of husband material, and he didn’t marry you to be called “boyfriend” again??? he’d turn his sassy shua mode on, and become a whole ass drama queen because he does not want to be called the b-word - he’s literally right there, in his husband glory, ring on his ring finger with your wedding date engraved underneath, so why is he being called “boyfriend”, hm? so don’t expect shua to be all lovey dovey for the day, he’ll need some pampering to forgive you for the outrageous act of calling him your boyfriend.

𝜗𝜚 wen junhui

pookie is sad, don’t calm him “boyfriend”, please? jun wouldn’t be overly emotional over not being called “husband” a few times, it’s not like it would be the end of the world, but at the same time whenever you call him your boyfriend he feels a weak pang in his chest, almost as if his body physically reacts to the lack of “husband”. he would stare at you trying to convey his dear request of: “baby, i’m your husband, remember??? please call me husband???” the word husband coming form you is just very reassuring, and it makes him feel very loved. 

𝜗𝜚 kwon soonyoung

so so offended, WHAT DO YOU MEAN BOYFRIEND??? OH YEAH, SO THE RING ON YOUR FINGER IS WHAT??? JUST AN ACCESSORY??? AND THE WEDDING WAS JUST FOR FUN??? does not take the whole “boyfriend” calling lightly, being a husband is very serious for soonyoung AND HE WILL NOT TOLERATE THE B-WORD. Why would you even think of calling him your boyfriend, like we went from “boyfriend” to “fiance” to “husband” for a reason, SO LET’S NOT FORGET HOSHI’S YOUR HUBBY NOW!!!

𝜗𝜚 jeon wonwoo

at first he’s really taken aback because what do you mean “boyfriend”, you always refer to him as your husband ever since you got married (because duh - you’re married). would just kind of stare at you in confusion with question marks above his head, trying to figure out if you were actually talking about him, and why the hell you just called him your boyfriend. didn’t realise until a bit later how hurt ? he felt when he figured you were seriously talking about him, which was so weird because he used to love when you called him your boyfriend in the past, so what changed? (marriage happened you simp, he just adores it when you call him your husband).

𝜗𝜚 lee jihoon

would just roll his eyes, because he’s not the one to fall for your jokes. he knows that there is no way you’d call him anything but your husband if it wasn’t for a prank, so you wouldn’t get a big reaction out of jihoon. would just give you head pats and nod his head saying “whatever you want baby”. BUT, deep inside he’s crying. being your husband is one of woozi's biggest blessings, so hearing the word “boyfriend” when you are in fact married is a bit of a no no.

𝜗𝜚 lee seokmin

don’t call him boyfriend??? don’t break his heart??? why would you do this??? would immediately assume you’re unhappy in your marriage because why is he suddenly reduced to “boyfriend”? seokmin would stare at you with big (and sad) puppy eyes until you wouldn’t have explained why you used the forbidden b-word, because there is no way he would move on from that without hearing a proper explanation (and a proper apology). he just really really loves being your husband and being called “husband” - there’s just something magical about it, he loves hearing that word from you.

𝜗𝜚 kim mingyu

at first he wouldn’t pay much attention, because he’s not “boyfriend” anymore - he’s “husband” *cue in a proud mingoo smile*, so he thinks you’re talking about someone else? but then… WHO ARE YOU CALLING BOYFRIEND??? turns into a sulky and whiny mess, because “babyyyy, i’m your husband remember?” would follow you around and just whine, oh my god, it’d be so annoying you’d immediately regret calling him anything except “my dearest, loveliest, most precious husband” because how can a grown man sulk like that? over something you said as a joke. he would go on a whole ass rant about your engagement and the wedding to make a point i guess? as if he was trying to remind you that you’re in fact married.

𝜗𝜚 xu minghao

okay, then no more “wife” for you. would make sure to go around and tell everyone about his “girlfriend”, loud enough for you to hear. hao treasures his “husband” status very dearly, so when you suddenly start calling him your boyfriend he’s having none of that, thus will tease you right back, because he knows how you always go low-key crazy over him calling you his wife. your hubby is just so so petty he won’t forget this one quickly, and he’d want you to beg for him to stop, because as much as he wants to tease you back it truly breaks his hear hearing the b-word from you.

𝜗𝜚 boo seungkwan

would throw a tantrum because he’s dramatic like that. he takes his role as your husband very seriously, so you calling him “boyfriend”? not happening. the second seungkwan hears the b-word that he used to love so much (now he hates it because HE’S YOUR HUSBAND) he gives you the silent treatment in the pettiest way possible, which is funny because his clingy nature doesn not allow for him to ignore people, especially not you. and when he sees you struggling with unscrewing the cap from the water bottle he literally has to walk out of the room and lock himself in the bathroom so he wouldn’t walk up to you and help you. 

𝜗𝜚 vernon chwe

it’s not that he doesn’t care, because he does, but at the same time he’s fairly fine with anything you call him as long as you put “mine (insert name)” before it. of course he loves it when you refer to him as your husband, but he wouldn’t throw a tantrum just because you called him “boyfriend” once or twice. as i said, as long as you call him “yours” it’s all good (it makes him shy as hell, and him blushing is guaranteed, but it’s such a nice, silent way of saying how much you love him).

𝜗𝜚 lee chan

sad, sad, sad. don’t break his heart like that - “what do you mean boyfriend?” he wouldn’t outwardly mention how sad he got over you calling him your boyfriend instead of husband, but ohmygod it’d be so visible, chan would look like a puppy who was just denied a treat, it’d be so so adorable if not for the heartbreaking pout. there’s just something about you calling him your husband, and hearing those words coming from your mouth that always make him so happy that suddenly hearing “boyfriend” would be so upsetting.

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[jnginlov]

ateez with a clingy and affectionate drunk partner

⇀ genre fluff

⇀ style reactions/headcanons

⇀ warnings reader is drunk, lots of physical affection (kisses, hugs, lap sitting, cuddling, etc)

note requested by @nnnarchives

seonghwa

no matter how many times you’ll get like this around him, he always seems surprised and will ask if you’re okay

cooing over you and babying you so much it makes everyone around you both sick

makes sure you’re drinking water or eating by bribing you with kisses and just smiles so adoringly when you announce that you finished the whole glass of water and are ready for your reward

eventually he catches you starting to doze off on his shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around his bicep as he chats softly with the person across from you both

he excuses himself quickly to usher you both home, where he’ll give you all the cuddles you could ever want

hongjoong

his reaction would be very situational

if you’re around other people, he will be so shy and probably ask if you want to leave because its just hard for him to handle you and control his darkening blush at the same time

if you’re alone he is soaking up all of the attention, absolutely ready to do anything you want and continually reminding you how pretty/beautiful/cute/sexy you are

if he’s also drunk then he just melts into the attention, encouraging you by asking for head scratches, laying in your lap, or falling asleep on your shoulder

any which way, he’s a blushing mess by the time you start dozing off, ready to call it a night

yeosang

he’s so blushy and giggly which of course only makes you cling tighter

giving you so many head pats while you hang off his arm but sort of doesn’t know what to do with himself

probably asks if you want to leave the function early because he wants to just pull you into his arms and cuddle you back but doesn’t feel like he can when you’re outside the bubble of your apartment

he’s going to be a little stiff but i promise he loves it, he just doesn’t know if you want him to be affectionate back unless you clearly tell him

yunho

literally so in love with you

he would find your drunk behavior so adorable and actively encourage you to sit in his lap or wrap your arms around his waist

you don’t even have to ask for kisses, he’s already peppering them all over your face

will just hold your face in his hands and stare at you so lovestruck as you pout, wanting more kisses

san

he’s the type to be oblivious to any increase in physical affection without verbal confirmation or acknowledgment from you, it’s not that he doesn’t appreciate it he just feels it to be so natural to who he is as a partner

when he does notice your drunken behavior, he’s immediately melting and pulling you into his arms, basically smothering you

this is when you get giggly san to make an appearance

if you’re in public, it immediately feels like you’re in your own bubble, just the two of you, as he matches all your affection with some of his own, the world around you melting away

if you’re at home, it might turn into something very domestic like sharing a dance in the middle of the kitchen or rambling about what the future has in store for you while wrapped in each others arms

mingi

he is literally so happy, his cheeks will hurt from smiling by the end of the night

he’s always worried about making you uncomfortable with initiating physical contact so for you to be the one initiating and doing so often, he is just ecstatic

if you get distracted or wonder away for a moment, he will subtly try to get your attention back and pretend that he’s surprised when you go back to clinging onto him

if you catch on to how much he’s liking the affection his ears will be red immediately as he drops his head into the crook of your neck to hide from your gaze, only giving you better access to pepper kisses against his cheek

wooyoung

he always matches your energy

so sorry to anyone in the general vicinity but you’ve just become the couple that will not separate from each other

will lean into you and tap his cheek as an invitation to give him a kiss

if you aren’t sitting on his lap, he’s sitting on yours

he enjoys enabling your behavior when you get like this but will also lightly tease, because the only thing he loves more than you clingy is you pouting at him, demanding more kisses as repayment

jongho

he’s definitely going to take the opportunity to tease you

he knows what you want but he’s going to pretend he has no clue and make you clearly say that you want to kiss him or even just hold his hand

don’t let his fake obliviousness fool you of course, he’s absolutely enamored by you and your affection, he just has a reputation to uphold, especially around his members

so he’s going to pretend like your kisses and hugs are annoyances, distractions from the conversation he’s trying to have with someone, but really he’s melting on the inside

but don’t worry, he’ll be sure to return your love once you’re out of the public eye

↼ ateez masterlist

note i had fun writing this, thank you for the request!

[help-itrappedmyself]

Guys... I started a Cat!Danny thing

Danny is walking in a park. It’s unfamiliar to him, but his surroundings are the least of his worries right now. Because he’s a cat. Currently. Wobbling around on four legs, incapable of human speech. He has a brief thought that he’s lucky he was able to de-transform enough that he wasn’t a ghost cat, wandering around in a park. 

     Still, he’s a cat right now with no idea how to not be a cat anymore. The fact that he doesn’t know where he is doesn’t bother him until he gets out of the park and realizes he wasn’t just in an unfamiliar park. He’s in an unfamiliar city. 

     He sits and tries to think. There are people walking by, probably about his age. All wearing uniforms that he doesn’t recognize, but he can read Gotham Academy from the insignia on them. 

     He can’t hear what happens next over the traffic and chatter of teenagers, but Danny sees some kid push over another and goes over to investigate. He has no clue what he’s going to be able to do as a cat, but he can’t just sit here and watch if they decide to get more physical. 

     Luckily, he can cross the street while a traffic guard halts traffic for the flow of people leaving the school. Nobody notices him as he goes underneath a bush to watch the bully. 

     They mostly argue. The bully is being mean, but other than pushing the other boy down, seems to leave it at a verbal confrontation. The other boy got up, and the bully took his bag and threw it to the ground, spilling school supplies everywhere. Two pencils and an eraser end up rolling next to where Danny was hiding under a bush. Danny’s fur bristled.     “You’re so lucky you even go here. If your dad wasn’t Bruce Wayne we never would have let you in the gates.”     The bully saunters off and leaves the boy alone to pick up all his stuff. Danny, wanting to help, bites the eraser and brings it over to the boy’s bag. The boy sees him and stills, Danny drops the eraser and walks back to the bush, this time coming back with one of the pencils. He repeats this for the last pencil and the boy still hasn’t moved. 

     Danny sits and tilts his head at the boy. He tilts his head in response. The boy seems sad. Not in his face, which is blank, or in his body, which is still tense from the earlier interaction. More like his energy is sad, he seems rather resigned to Danny.

     “Mrow.” Danny forgets he is incapable of intelligent speech at the moment. But his noise makes the boy smile a little. 

     Danny does it again, leaning down and pushing the pencil towards him at the same time, trying to tell him to pick it up. 

     “Thank you.” The boy says politely, reaching over very slowly to grab his things. He finishes packing up his back just as slowly. Then reaches his hand out towards Danny.

     Danny tenses, but the boy stops his hand before it can touch him, fingers down. Aw, the boy wants to be friends! Danny bumps the hand with his head saying, ‘we can be friends’, which translates to  a small “mrrp”. 

     He wouldn’t mind being friends with the boy while he’s here. The boy slowly drags his fingers across Danny’s head, and Danny lets him.

     Then Danny is being lifted, and he is not okay with that. He is small! Heights are much higher when you’re this small!

     ‘What are you doing?’ comes out as “Mrrr.” Danny growls lightly in frustration, letting his claws out enough to gain hold of the boys’ shirt. He doesn’t want to hurt him, but he doesn’t want to fall either.

     “Shhh, it is okay.” The boy murmurs to him.“I want to take you home, I’ll give you food and shelter.” 

     Danny, for lack of a better option, thinks this is actually a great way to gain food. He’s not sure how he feels about cat food though. Danny lets out one short purr in response and the boy smiles another little smile.

     “You have to be good.” He tells him. “And no one can know you’re there, so you will be transported in my backpack.”

      Danny feels less good about that, and squints at the boy. The boy shifts his hold to one hand and rearranges his backpack so that the books are in the section meant for a computer, with cushioning to theoretically block them from hitting Danny. All small items are moved into the other pocket, and two books are pulled out entirely. They are placed on the ground before the bag is brought in front of Danny. 

     Danny looks between the bag and the boy twice. He ends up looking at the boy, and moves his paw to the boys’ cheek. He purrs once in confirmation, then turns back to the bag and crawls in. He curls up at the bottom, and looks up as the boy zips it almost entirely shut, leaving a bit of space between the zippers at the top of the bag. He feels movement as the boy gets up and starts walking, but the boy is careful. Danny barely feels anything, just looking through the crack as the sky turns into the roof of a car.

     Well, he’s committed now. Danny takes a nap.

[mothandpidgeon]

Unrequited (bfd! pre-outbreak!/Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader)

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

pairing: bfd! pre-outbreak!/Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader

rating: E 18+MDNI

summary: You arrive in Jackson 22 years after the outbreak only to be reunited with your best friend’s dad, the man that stole your heart and broke it when you were fourteen– Joel Miller.

contents: best friend's dad, age gap, outbreak night (nothing that isnt in ep 1), big angst, abandonment issues, brief suicidal ideation, daddy issues, grief, Joel guilt, unprotected p in v sex, reader doesn't know where Jakarta is, reader is not described physically but Joel picks (adult) reader up, moth never uses y/n.

wc: 9k

a/n: This has been a bitch to finish but I'm quite proud of where it ended up. It's the longest os I've written which makes me nervous nobody will want to read it but I hope you do.

Thank you a million times to @ezrasbirdie for making me finish this and betaing. Also thank you @lowlights for listening to me ramble on this! Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Old man, take a look at your life. I’m a lot like you. Neil Young

You’re waiting for Sarah on the front steps when she gets home. School ended nearly two hours ago and you’ve been sitting here a ball of nerves. The whole world seems to be uneasy this afternoon. You notice sirens, a team of fighter jets scrambling above. It's like your anxiety has spilled out of your chest and it’s taken life all around you. 

You finger the corner of your notebook. On the inside are doodles— hearts and bubble letters. Juvenile daydreams put to paper. Your first name and after it his last, testing out the sound of who you would be if only you’d been born in a different decade. Mrs. Miller. 

Sarah doesn’t look very happy to see you. It’s been two weeks since you’ve talked to her and you’ve never felt more lonely. 

Her words still ring in your ears. 

“It’s like you’re in love with my dad.”

“No I'm not!” you said, your whole body tingling with the heat of embarrassment. You’d never felt so exposed in your life. 

“Sometimes I think that’s the only reason you’re even friends with me,” she said. 

You've been ruminating on that accusation ever since. You pine for Mr. Miller the way only a fourteen year old can. It’s the kind of infatuation that makes you understand how Romeo and Juliet ended in tragedy. All-consuming, unrequited, so in love it hurts.

So maybe Sarah’s right. Your heart flutters every time Mr Miller appears in the kitchen, wearing a dark t-shirt that hugs his biceps. You try not to stare at his aquiline nose when he drives you home from Sarah’s soccer games. Sleep overs at the Miller’s house mean more opportunities to be around him, learn the little details that make him him. And there were plenty of sleep overs because your parents are always so busy fighting, they never bother to keep track of you. 

But you’ve been in agony without your friend. It’s a pain sharper and more present than the yearning you’ve felt for Mr. Miller. You’ve talked to her every day since you moved to Austin in fourth grade and since this fight, there’s been an empty space in your heart. 

“Hi.” You stand up, hoisting your backpack awkwardly over your shoulder. 

“I’m supposed to go next door,” Sarah says. 

“Can I just talk to you for a minute?” you ask. 

She sighs but opens the front door with her key and lets you follow her into the living room. 

“I’m sorry,” you say before you lose your nerve. “You’re right. I like your dad.”

It’s probably the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever owned up to. You wish you could explain to her that you know how silly it is to be in love with a full grown man, your best friend’s dad. It’s not like he’ll ever see you as anything other than a kid. 

You can’t put into words how he makes you feel. It’s not just his broad shoulders or chocolate eyes, though it’s undeniable that he’s gorgeous. He asks about school and comes to see you in the musical. Joel is an adult that actually gives a crap about you. 

You want to tell Sarah that one of the reasons you love her father so much is because of her. Because he’s such a good dad, because he raised such a cool, funny, smart daughter. That Sarah makes him better. 

It’ll take years for you to find words for all of that. So you just do your best right now. 

“I can’t help it. I wish I could,” you say. 

That’s true. And not just because your crush has made you lose your only friend. It’s exhausting to feel such a powerful longing, to want something you know you’ll never have. It’s torture. 

“But you’re my best friend. And that’s not why. I promise,” you say. 

Sarah sighs heavily, her pretty hazel eyes full of remorse. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have said that. I just get jealous sometimes.”

“I promise I won’t make you feel that way ever again. I could never like him more than you,” you tell her, sitting beside her on the couch and looking her in the eye so she knows you mean it. “He’s…old.”

You both laugh. 

“He’s so lame. This morning he said that Jakarta is in the Middle East,” she giggles. 

You don’t know where the hell Jakarta is but of course Sarah does. You throw your arms around her. You’ve missed her so damn much. The past two weeks have felt like two decades. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell her. 

“Me too.” She returns your embrace. “Do you have to go home? You can sleep over if you want. It’s my dad’s birthday but I don’t think he’s going to be home until late.”

Your heart twinges at the offer and not because it means you might see Mr. Miller at breakfast. You won’t even look at him again. Tonight is about your friend.

You end up watching some corny action movies and gorging yourselves on microwave popcorn. Everything feels right again. You don’t think about Mr. Miller. In fact, you’re grateful that his double has gone over into a late night so you don’t have to be in the same room. You’ve sworn to yourself that you’ll act normal around him but you’re not sure that sheer willpower can stop you from getting butterflies when he’s right there. 

At some point, you pass out in front of the tv, happier than you’ve been in a long time. 

Sarah nudges you awake sometime after midnight, concern all over her face. 

“Was I snoring?” you ask, groggy. 

She’s looking out the window. Helicopters fly so low overhead, the whole house rattles. It’s a wonder you slept through all of this noise— the choppers are joined by the wail of a car alarm, pops like fireworks. The TV is playing a high-pitched tone and when you peer at it, you see a test pattern on the screen. 

Dread settles in the pit of your stomach. 

“Something’s going on,” Sarah says almost to herself. 

A sudden thud against the back door makes you both jump. You swear, shaken out of your sleepy haze. 

“Mercy?” Sarah asks. 

You’ve spent enough time with Sarah to become acquainted with their neighbors The Adlers and their border collie Mercy. Mr Adler used to pay you each a dollar to walk him. Mercy’s frantically pawing at the glass. 

Sarah goes to the door and steps into the yard. You follow, unsure you want to leave the familiar safety of the house but unwilling to be alone with such an eerie feeling in the air. 

“What’re you doing out here, boy?” Sarah says, crouching down to pet the whimpering animal.  

“Where’s your dad?” you ask her. 

You hope the question doesn’t make Sarah think you’ve already forgotten your promise. Everything’s just so wrong. You’d feel a lot better with an adult around. 

“Don’t think he came home yet,” she says. You can hear the concern in her voice. “Let’s take Mercy back. The Alder’s will be home.” 

Mercy puts up a fight as Sarah pulls him across the lawn. It’s late and dark save the street lamp and a few porch lights that have been left on. You shiver despite the fact that it’s a warm southern night. 

The front door to the Adler’s house stands open and inside is black. No. Bad. You want to run back to the Miller’s house and lock the door behind you but the promise of Mr. And Mrs. Adler inside keeps you moving towards the darkened entrance. Maybe Mrs. Adler will give you some cookies while you wait for Mr. Miller. 

Sarah steps in first. The dog bucks and strains against her grip on his collar. Sarah fights to keep hold of him but Mercy’s thrashing makes him hard to pin down. He pulls free from Sarah’s grasp and darts away. 

You have half a mind to do the same but Sarah keeps going forward. She’s scared, too, her breaths shallow as she tip toes down the hall.  

“Mrs. Adler?” Sarah asks, her voice barely above a whisper. 

You reach for each other without even realizing it and you enter the kitchen holding hands. 

What you see there is beyond your wildest imaginings. There’s blood, a lot of it. Sarah’s shoe slides in the stuff and you grab her before she loses her balance. The room is cast in shadows but a street light streams through the window in the side door. Its beam falls over the form of Mr. Adler, limp on the floor. His back is against the door and a gush of dark blood sparkles in the sodium vapor. 

You’ve never seen so much blood, never seen anyone injured so brutally. It looks like he’s been attacked by some wild animal. Mercy was acting strange but the dog couldn’t do that.

“Help me,” he rasps. 

He’s speaking to you. You’re actually here. This is happening and you need to do something. 

But before you can form a coherent thought, your eyes travel deeper into the kitchen. Beside the island is more blood…and more bodies. 

As if seeing Sarah’s neighbor with his neck ripped open wasn’t enough of a horror, you’re now watching Nana hunched over Mrs. Adler’s corpse, her face buried in the younger woman’s neck. The scene before you makes no sense. Most of the time the old woman is barely conscious, hasn’t left her wheelchair in years and yet she’s on all fours before you looking feral. 

Sarah squeezes your hand so tight you’re afraid your knuckles will break. 

Nana slowly raises her face to you. Her eyes are pitch black and her mouth teems with twitching tendrils. You are staring at a living, breathing monster. 

When she leaps at you, you and Sarah bolt for the door. Your heart hammers against your ribs. Sarah makes it out first and races towards the sidewalk. 

Once you’ve gotten onto the front step, you slam the storm door shut behind you to trap whatever that thing is inside. SLAM. Nana collides with the door and it rattles violently. You hold it closed with every ounce of strength in you, listening to the creature behind it scratch and wail and willing yourself not to look through the glass to see its horrible face. Terror holds your muscles taught. You’re not sure how long you can stay like this, your sneakers skidding across the ground. 

With a roar, Uncle Tommy’s truck pulls up at that very moment and Mr. Miller hops out of the passenger seat before its even come to a full stop. He’s a fearsome sight, broad and rippling with untamed energy, his muscular arms outlined by the headlights of the car. You’ve never been more grateful for his presence. 

This nightmare is almost over. Joel’s come to save you. 

“Girls get in the car!” he bellows. His voice is raw and ragged. 

Just as you’re ready to make a run for it, The door flings out towards you, and you’re thrown aside as if you weigh nothing. You hit the driveway hard, your head connecting with concrete. 

For a moment, you can’t hear anything but the gush of blood pumping in your ears. You’re dizzy. Suffocating. There’s a warm trickle at your temple. Sarah calls your name. Your vision is blurred but you can make out the ghoulish form of the creature barreling towards her. 

“What’re we doing, Joel?” you hear Tommy ask.

There’s a thud and then quiet. 

You gasp again and again but your lungs won’t fill. 

Are you dying? Help. You need help. The monster lays lifeless at Joel’s feet and you pray that he’ll scoop you up and take you away from this. Your eyes finally come into focus to see Mr. Miller comforting Sarah, holding her face in his big palms, so fixated on her that he doesn’t notice that Mr. Adler has appeared in the doorway. 

Mr. Adler is still covered in so much blood and his gait has become twitchy as if his legs are on backwards. He moves towards them and you want to call out a warning but you’re still choking for air. Luckily he hasn’t noticed you but he soon stands between you and the Millers. 

“We’ve got to move,” Tommy says. 

“Get in the car,” Mr. Miller says to Sarah, throwing a protective arm in front of her. 

“But she’s hurt!”

She steps towards you. You’d cry her name but you’ve still got the wind knocked out of you and you’re too terrified to make a noise. Mr. Adler makes an inhuman sound as he advances, a croaking, growling gurgle. 

Mr. Miller pushes Sarah towards the truck. 

“Leave her!” he barks. “Get in the car!”

You sputter and choke as you watch Sarah, Joel, and Tommy drive away. 

You wait for a long time. 

As the truck pulls off of the curb, Mr. Adler is joined by his wife in the street, making chase. You’re finally able to draw breath and rouse your body off of the ground. You scramble back across the lawn to the Miller’s house and lock yourself inside. There’s enough adrenaline coursing through you that you’re able to push the sofa to barricade the front door. You draw all of the curtains and grab the biggest knife you can find in the kitchen. It’s ridiculous, something you’ve seen in scary movies, but you’re living in one right now. 

You hide yourself away. Sarah’s bedroom seems like the obvious place to do it. Familiar and safe. You curl yourself into a ball in the corner, clutching your knife and staring at the closed door with wild eyes. 

Sirens go through the night. Gunshots. At one point even the roar of a jet engine. 

For hours your body quivers as you try to make sense of what you’ve just witnessed. Flesh-eating mutants. Gore. Death. You keep waiting to wake up from a bad dream but you don’t. They left you. They abandoned you in a nightmare. 

No. That’s impossible. You can accept that a comatose elderly woman made supper out of her son in law but you refuse to believe that Joel would desert you. 

He’ll come back for you. Sarah will convince him. There’s always been room for you in their family. 

But as the sun begins to peek through the blinds and the noises outside fade away, you begin to lose hope. 

The muscles in your body go slack, exhausted from hours of uncontrollable shaking. Your instinct for survival and your need for sleep war with each other. Exhaustion is winning. 

You cautiously open the door to Sarah’s room. The house is still, more quiet than you’ve ever experienced. You creep into the room at the end of the hall. The olive green sheets on Joel’s bed are still messy from when he woke up here the day before. A normal morning. His birthday. 

You rest the knife on the night stand amongst the things he emptied from his pockets— coins, receipts, a stray nail. You slip into the bed and wrap yourself up. It smells like him— spicy deodorant and sweat, fresh cut lumber like the hardware store. The scent reminds you of all those times he was close, when your heart leapt. 

They’ll come back. Mr. Miller wouldn’t leave you. 

He left you to die but you just go on living.  

It takes some time before you’re brave enough to leave the Miller’s house and see what’s left of the world. Your parents are nowhere to be found. It’s safe to assume they were infected that first night. 

You’re on your own. 

A QZ is set up outside of San Antonio. They assign you to housing for separated minors. An orphanage. You never make friends, not really. Trust is too fickle.

At night you lay in your bunk and wonder what life would be like if anybody gave a shit about you. Maybe you would have been with your parents when it all went down. You’d be a snarling monster but at least you wouldn’t be alone. 

On the worst nights, when you like yourself the least, Mr. Miller’s words echo around your skull. “Leave her.” She's not worth it. Forget her. 

You don’t imagine yourself in his arms anymore. Instead you picture him and Sarah and Uncle Tommy, all happy and safe hiding out somewhere idyllic. A sweet little cabin with a stream nearby, surrounded by peaceful woods. You’ve heard some people live like that.

Some days you wish you were with them. Others you wish they were all dead. 

When you turn 18, you age out of your living situation. It couldn’t come soon enough. Things are changing and it seems like all the kids that stay in FEDRA school are being groomed to go straight into uniform. You dodged that bullet but life’s not easy. Now you’re well and truly alone, scraping by to keep food in your mouth and a roof over your head. 

It only lasts a few years, though. By the time you’re 21, there’s an emergency evacuation. Outbreaks are happening within the walls and with so many people living on top of each other, it’s only a matter of time before shit hits the fan. They send swaths of people to Dallas but word is, there’s no room for such numbers and they consider everyone from San Antonio an infection risk. 

You’ve heard enough stories to know what that means. There won’t be a warm welcome when you reach the next QZ. So you ditch the convoy and head north. 

You bounce around for years, sometimes with others, a lot of time solo. Doing what you have to. It’s not a life, just survival. 

By the time you reach the wilds of Wyoming, you’ve had enough. You break off from the group you’re traveling with. You leave them this time, just decide to walk into the forest and let the earth swallow you up. You’re exhausted, sick of hanging on by a thread. Too much of a coward to kill yourself, you wander around waiting for the cold or your hunger or a bear to do it for you. 

They find you. Some scouts that look mean and tough take pity on you and offer you a place with them in a commune where things are half normal. 

It’s the first time being alone has worked to your advantage.  

Jackson is a strange place. It has walls like the QZ but it’s quaint. There’s laughter and evergreen wreaths, happy children that build snowmen in the center of town. Some of these kids have no idea how fucked up the world has become. All they know is this charming little haven. 

You spend the first few days in the infirmary, getting patched up, regaining your strength. You feel like an animal compared to the people in your new community. It’s hard to accept that they’re willing to help you, no strings attached. 

Eventually you’re well enough to have your own place. They set you up with a little apartment over one of the stores in town. You’re invited to take your meals in the dining hall. 

It takes you back to those first days at your new middle school after you came to Austin. Unfortunately, this time Sarah’s not there to offer you a seat at her lunch table. 

You keep to yourself, overwhelmed by all of the strange new faces. Head down, you eat your breakfast. It’s the best food you’ve had in years. As your belly fills, you start to relax and try to get used to the idea of this being home. 

Then you hear a familiar voice say your name. You wonder if you’re hallucinating when you see him standing in front of you. 

He’s gained a few decades but he looks good. His hair is nearly shoulder length and there’s a mustache on his upper lip but that’s him alright. 

“Uncle Tommy?” you manage. 

“That really you?” he asks. 

Tommy puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. His smile wrinkles the corners of his eyes. You nod and you’re smiling too.  

You expect to be upset. Tommy was there when you were abandoned after all. But you’re flooded with relief and a small flame of hope. 

“Shit. What’re the chances?” he asks, studying your face. “C’mere.”

He pulls you through the lines of tables. Your head spins with questions. How did he end up in Wyoming of all places? How long has he been here? Did you actually die out there only to be sent to this strange afterlife? 

“You remember this old son of a bitch?” Tommy asks with a chuckle when he stops at the table in a far corner. 

And suddenly you’re face to face with Mr. Miller. 

He’s old. Grey hairs run through his stubble and curl from his temple. There are deep lines in his face. He’s still good looking despite how weathered his features have become, still broad, still with that wonderful silhouette.

It’s funny. In your mind’s eye, you’ve never imagined Joel aging. He stayed the same while you grew up. 

He looks at you for a long moment and then his thick bottom lip falls agape. His eyes glitter and his dimple appears as he recognizes the woman that you’ve become. 

“Kiddo,” he whispers as he stands up. 

He pulls you into a hug and his wide palm smooths down your back. He still smells just how you remember and without warning you’re sobbing into the front of his flannel. 

You spent hours upon hours imagining what you might say if you ever saw him again. Sometimes it was a speech biting with venom, others a confession, a question. Now, though, your mind is blank, overwhelmed that fate has brought you back together. A testament to your survival. 

“It’s alright, babygirl. You’re okay,” he says into your hair. Words you needed to hear all those years ago. 

You stay like this for a long time, surrounded by him. He holds you the way you wished he had as you cried into his pillow in that empty house. Eventually you pull yourself together with a shaking breath. 

“Where’s Sarah?” you ask, casting your eyes around the crowd in the mess hall. 

There’s a girl sitting beside Joel, her curly hair pulled back into a ponytail, watching this scene unfold. Everyone else is polite enough to pretend you’re not bawling in the middle of lunch. Can’t be the first time it’s happened. 

At your question, Tommy goes stone faced. The muscle in Joel’s jaw ticks. 

You shake your head in disbelief. “Infected?” you squeak out. 

“It wasn’t like that,” Joel chokes. 

“She didn’t make it through that first night,” Tommy says. 

It’s a punch in the gut, the air’s knocked out of your chest all over again. While it had crushed you to be abandoned, part of you understood. Joel had to choose and he picked his daughter. Even if he’d been in love with you the way you used to dream about, he always would have chosen Sarah. You couldn’t hold that against him, no matter how much it hurt. There just wasn’t anyone in the world that would have saved you. 

But knowing that he failed her, that he failed you both, makes you sick. All those years of bitterness come flooding back to you and your tears turn hot and furious. 

“You let her die?” you demand. “You told her to leave me behind and you didn’t even save her?” You push Joel, your hands against the wet spots you left on his shirt. It’s ineffectual. He barely moves against your pathetic shove but his face crumples. You know he hates himself as much as you do in that moment but that’s not enough. You hit him as hard as you can and he does nothing to defend himself. 

“Hey, hey,” Tommy says, trying a hand on your shoulder. 

“You should’ve saved her,” you bark. 

Heads have turned now as Tommy holds you back. 

“I hoped you were dead every day since you left me,” you say. 

You can see on his face that Joel’s definitely wished the same thing. 

You go on berating him, your tears mixing with spit as you snarl and shout, until Tommy’s able to wrestle you out of the dining hall. 

The summer comes. After a long, cold winter, everyone in Jackson welcomes the change of seasons with open arms. Everyone but Joel. 

Ellie was a salve for the deep wounds on his heart. They’ll never fully heal but at least they stopped overwhelming him for some time. Since your dramatic reunion, though, those scars have been torn open once more. Especially today. 

It’s warm and there’s barely a cloud in the sky. The July weather is mild compared to summers in Texas. Fresh air blows in through the open windows of the house, beckoning Joel outside but he has no desire to be in the sunshine. 

“You okay?” Ellie asks. 

She’s just come down the stairs. It’s early and Joel’s already at the kitchen table. Didn’t sleep much. 

He and Ellie have been together long enough that she understands the wordless shifts in his moods. They’ve gotten worse since you arrived in Jackson. He does his work and patrols, sometimes he nurses a whiskey alone at the bar. The rest of the time he keeps to himself. He’s sliding back towards the man she met back in Boston. Joel’s rebuilt the walls that surrounded him, brick by brick since that afternoon in the dining hall. 

“I was going to meet Dina at the mess. Want to come? Or I could stick around?” she offers. 

It’s going to be one of those dark days, the kind that makes him question why he’s been hanging on for so long, and Ellie knows it. She’s giving him a lifeline, offering to be with him so he doesn’t have to ask. He should accept it, but he doesn’t want to waste his energy putting on a brave face for her when he feels so broken. 

“That’s alright, Ellie. Go on,” he says. 

She doesn’t push him. She never does. She just gives a sympathetic smile before she slips out. 

Once seems gone, his heart begins to ache. 

Sometime later, there’s a knock at the door. The last person he expects to see on the porch is you. You look a little nervous, like if he’d taken longer to come to the door you might’ve bolted. 

He hasn’t spoken to you since that day that you came back into his life but the words you said play relentlessly on loop in his mind. He should have made amends by now. You were his daughter’s best friend and of all the places at the end of the world, you’ve ended up in the same town. He passes by the old pharmacy you live above just about every day, thinks about seeing if you’re in so you can have a conversation. He even knows what he’d say, but he can’t work up the courage. There aren’t any words that can make right what he did to you. 

The guilt metastasized deep in his gut. His failure compounded. 

So he doesn’t blame you for keeping your distance, avoiding him when your paths cross. He lets you be angry with him, as he deserves. 

“Want some company?” you ask. 

He recognizes the look on your face and it dawns on him that he might not be the only person struggling today. He steps aside to let you in. 

Joel sets a cup of tea down in front of you. It’s not the real thing. Dried herbs from the garden Maria keeps. You’ve taken a seat across from him at the table, glancing around the kitchen so you don’t have to look at him. 

“Surprised you remember,” he says. 

“My best friend’s birthday?”

He shrugs as he pulls up a chair across from you. “Was a long time ago.”

“I think you underestimate the power of female friendships.” 

You wear a soft smile that makes Joel’s heart ache a little harder. He takes a good look at you, seeing you up close for the first time. There are hints of the girl he knew back in Austin but she’s buried under years of hard living. 

You’re the same age Sarah would have been today. The same age he was when he lost everything. 

You sigh and scratch awkwardly at your neck. 

“Listen, I’m sorry about…all that shit I said. It’s…” you trail off and he’s sure you’re still mad at him, deep down. 

“I reckon I’m the one that owes an apology. I shouldn’t’ve left you back there. Sarah begged me not to,” he admits. “I was trying to keep her safe. But I fucked that up, too.” 

“That’s not true. I was just angry,” you tell him. 

“I was always so pissed at your parents for not caring enough about you. Turns out I was just as bad,” he says. 

He hadn’t given any thought to the choice he made all those years ago. His priority was his family and he had no room for the rest of humanity. Joel didn’t realize until he saw your face again just how selfish that had made him. The past months he’s been haunted by the thought of it, a young thing all alone in the chaos. If Sarah’s watching over him, which sometimes he hopes she is, she’d be ashamed. 

“I’ve had a lot of time to think since I got here and…I don’t blame you. I’m not your kid. It just—“ You laugh without humor. “God, it’s so stupid but I had a huge crush on you.”

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up. You fiddle with the chipped handle on your mug.

“I know. I was just a kid but I was head over heels for you,” you say.

Joel can feel himself blushing. It’s a sweet thought. He’s honored in a strange way. He remembers the gravity of Sarah’s crushes– Leonardo DiCaprio, Usher, some guy with a lip ring from one of those punk bands she listened to.

“So when you left me…I was a little heart broken.”

“Shit,” Joel says. 

“I didn’t say that to make you feel bad. I just wanted you to know why I was so hurt,” you tell him, leaning forward in your seat. “You didn’t know any of that. And it’s not fair to hang that over your head. It wasn’t your job to rescue me.”

“Course it was,” Joel responds. “You were just a kid. I let you down.”

You look at him gratefully and a tear slips down your cheek. It takes a minute for you to fully take that in and it seems like something you’ve needed to hear. 

“Joel. I forgive you,” you tell him. 

A thick knot forms in his throat. 

There’s a litany of names in his mind, so many people he’s failed. Henry and Sam. Tess. Sarah. He’s never expected to be absolved of any of his sins, he doesn't deserve to be forgiven. But those three words make him feel lighter, like he can stop beating himself up. At least for a moment. 

He tucks his chin into his chest trying to keep his own tears from spilling over. Your hand slips over his, a gentle, reassuring touch. 

The two of you stay like that for a little while, crying together, then becoming reacquainted. You talk for a long time. There’s a lot of catching up to do but the conversation keeps coming back to Sarah. It’s a gift to share memories of her, to hear stories that he’s never heard. You knew Sarah better than anyone in the world— her favorite store in the mall, what she wanted for her birthday. Her hopes, her dreams, her fears. No fourteen year old goes to her daddy with her problems. You were there for her, though. Right up until the end. 

“I, um, you should have this,” you say. “Well, it’s yours.”

You and Joel have migrated to the couch in the living room as the afternoon has crept on. You reach into your back pocket, a little reluctant, and pull something out. 

It’s a photograph, dog eared and creased from years of being carried with you. Joel recognizes the picture— you and him and Sarah, all three of you donning life jackets, smiling as you float on a calm river. He and Tommy took Sarah kayaking and she asked if you could tag along. It was a wonderful day. Blue, cloudless sky. 

The last time he saw the photo it was hanging under a magnet on the refrigerator in the kitchen. 

“How’d…”

“I stayed in your house for a while. After. Just kind of hoping you might come back. I took that when I left. And I ate all your food,” you say with a little chuckle. You wipe some snot from your nose. “I guess…well, you probably don’t have a lot of pictures of her.”

You’re right. There was an outdated school photograph in his wallet when they left that night and it had been too painful to look at for years. It still stings a little but it feels easier to share with someone, someone that knew her so well. 

“You sure?” he asks. 

You nod. “I know where to find it.”

He props the picture up on the coffee table so you can both look at it and meditate on that day when everything felt so perfect. 

“Remember we made you play “Crazy in Love” on on repeat the whole way there?” you ask. 

“I still get that goddamn song stuck in my head,” he complains. 

You laugh and rest your head on his shoulder. The familiar gesture cracks something open inside of him. He’s taken back to his favorite nights when he’d watch a movie with Sarah and she’d cuddle against him. Somehow the memory doesn’t hurt as much as he anticipates. 

You sit like that, looking at the picture, both quiet, your smiles fading as you remember what’s happened since. 

“Sometimes I think I see her,” he chokes. 

He’s never told anyone that. But it seems like you might understand, He trusts you won’t meet his admission with a pitying smile. 

“How’s she look?” you ask. 

He can’t help but chuckle. He nods. 

You don’t say anything, you just burrow your head a little deeper into him. Joel puts a gentle kiss in your hair. 

You’re a fixture in the Miller house once again, part of the family. You babysit for Maria and tell her embarrassing stories about Tommy. You and Ellie tease Joel relentlessly. You sit with him in the evenings, sometimes singing along when he pulls out his guitar, other nights neither of you speak at all.

Slowly, you find yourself falling in love with him all over again. It’s not the same infatuation you harbored when you were young. You’re both different people. And you hardly knew him back then. Not really. What did a fourteen year old know about grown men?

The two of you fall into an easy rhythm. After being alone for such a long time, it’s magical to have a companion. Joel seems grateful for the company, too. He’s there whenever you turn around, like a promise. He’s not leaving you behind even if you’re just going from the stables to the library. 

Neither of you acknowledge it, this easy rapport. A light squeeze on your shoulder, holding your hand when you get misty eyed. He probably doesn’t mean anything by it but you’re pretty sure you can’t live without it. You bask in the sweetness of these exchanges, trying not to think too hard about the fact that you used to spend Saturday nights giggling on his daughter’s bedroom floor. 

He’s still Mr. Miller, after all. 

Autumn comes and you’re inseparable. You realize just how much when you convince him to attend the children’s choir performance in town. You expect him to demure. Watching kids being kids must be painful. But he’s by your side in the dining hall as the little ones sing “Clementine” and “Oh Susanna”. 

He puts his arm around your shoulder so you can lean into him. It might just be a paternal gesture, maybe you’re still a little girl in his eyes. That’s ok with you if he keeps absentmindedly massaging your upper arm. You can’t remember the last time you felt so safe, so loved. 

Afterwards, he walks you home and you’re in such a good mood, you start singing to yourself.

“Johnny Cash,” he says approvingly. 

You laugh to yourself. “You know, I started listening to him ‘cause of you. You had his CD in your truck,” you admit.  

You wanted to like all of the things Joel liked. He would think you were so interesting and grown up because you knew all the words to “Riders in the Sky.”

“Least I was a good influence,” Joel says, shaking his head, his cheeks turning pink. 

He’s so handsome when he blushes, you feel a little giddy when you come to stop in front of the old pharmacy. 

“G’night, darlin’,” he says, giving your hand one last squeeze. 

He waits. He’ll stand here and watch you get inside like he always does. He doesn’t need to— it’s not like people even lock their doors in Jackson— but he’s insisted on it so fervently that you stopped arguing. 

You shouldn’t do it. It’s so silly. But there’s a softness in his eyes and his gentle touch still tingles on your arm. His salt and pepper hair is caught in the string lights that line the empty street. You can’t help yourself.  

You kiss him, smoothing your palms up the front of his flannel until you sink your fingers into the curls at the base of his neck. The tip of his nose is cold from the chill in the evening air but his lips are warm and sweet. 

You haven’t had a whole lot of experience kissing. You’d just started doing it when the outbreak happened and things haven’t been very romantic since. This is one of the better ones. Relatively chaste but unbearably tender. Certainly better than you could have imagined all those years ago. 

It lasts longer than you expect. Joel kisses you back. He rests his hand on your waist and the way it covers so much of your back makes you swoon. Soon, though, he’s pulling away, cradling your cheek. 

“We shouldn’t do that,” he says.

“I know,” you sigh. You’re reluctant to break away, savoring the brush of his nose against yours. 

It’s all wrong but you’re not ashamed for trying it. 

“Just once. I’ve always wanted to,” you say. 

He presses his lips into your forehead. It feels bittersweet. A kiss you longed for for twenty years came and went. 

You wave to him from the door before you go in for the night. 

That kiss confirms Joel’s fears.

He’s spent months convincing himself that this is completely platonic. He would never have feelings for his daughter’s best friend. Even if he always wants to be around you.   

He’s looking after you, comforting you, protecting you. He’s making up for those years that he made you suffer through. You forgave him but he’ll never stop atoning. 

And then you kissed him. 

Suddenly, he’s buried in an avalanche of thoughts he’s been disavowing. 

You’re pretty and soft. You're strong and you ease the pain of his memories. You make him feel a little less alone. 

The warmth of your lips, your body pressed to his. He was ready to lose himself in you. 

That’s when he heard it. 

It was Sarah’s voice chiding him with all the reasons why this is wrong. 

She’s been in his head, his inner critic since the day she died, pointing out every failure and weakness in him. He could picture her looking down on him with disgust. She’s the same age as your daughter. She was just a kid when you met her. She deserves better than you. 

He’s making the same mistake as before, letting his instinct get the better of him. The responsible part of him takes control. He can’t give you any more reasons to try and kiss him again. 

If Joel is good at one thing it’s denying himself. 

He backs off and you can sense it, he knows you do. Sometimes he catches you looking at him and there’s a longing in your eye. It fucking kills him but it’s just another reason why he’s no good for you. 

Despite whatever it does to you, you haven’t got anybody else in Jackson so you stick around. He can only imagine how much it hurts you. 

“Why did I go north?” you complain when Joel opens the front door. You’re holding a scarf tight around your neck, shivering against the cold. The sky is a dismal shade of gray, snowfall on the horizon. 

Joel gets you in the house with a chuckle. He starts a fire, a luxury you little apartment doesn’t afford. You shiver in front of the hearth. 

“Traded for this,” you say, pulling a thick book out of your coat and tossing it onto the coffee table. 

“Oh good. I was looking for some light reading material,” Ellie quips from her spot on the couch.  

“It’s a dictionary,” you explain, “so you’ll quit cheating at Boggle.”

“You're in trouble now,” Joel laughs. 

“I don’t cheat. I just know more words than you guys,” she says. 

“Dentment is not a word,” you reply. 

“Neither is thoard,” Joel says. 

“Sure it is. I’m about to thoard the two of you in this game,” she says.

This should be enough. A winter day by the fire. The simple joy of a board game. Laughter. This is practically a normal life. 

But each time Joel’s eyes fall on you, there’s a pang in his chest. You’re just close enough that he could reach out and touch you but he won’t. He can’t.  

When the sun sets, Ellie retreats to her room. Eventually, you fall asleep on the couch, wrapped up in a quilt as the fire dies down. You look even younger, curled up serenely. There’s no worry on your brow. Usually your face is in a perpetual frown even when you’re not in a mood.   

The snow is already knee deep with no signs of slowing. There’s no sense in sending you back out there. 

Joel scoops you up as gently as he can. He feels his age, back straining, but he doesn’t mind. He enjoys how you nestle your face into his chest as he mounts the stairs, warm and snug in his arms. A smile pulls at his lips. 

He sets you down carefully on his bed and you whimper groggily at the loss of his touch. Your eyes crack open. 

“Snowing pretty bad. Sleep here. I’ll be on the couch,” he whispers. 

“Stay,” you murmur. 

He hesitates. Carrying you to bed was already crossing a line. He’s not worried about keeping his hands to himself. He’s been able to control himself for this long. If he lays down next to you, feeling you warming his sheets, smelling the peppermint soap on your skin, he’ll be so far gone for you, there’ll be no coming back. 

But denying you this simple request feels cruel. He imagines you waking up here all alone. You’re half asleep but what if you remember asking him to remain only to be abandoned again?  

He gets into bed, still fully clothed and careful to stay on his side. His jaw is clenched so tightly his teeth hurt. You give a satisfied hum and sink back into sleep, your body melting into the mattress. 

Joel watches you for a moment, fights the urge to put a kiss on your forehead. He crosses his arms and stares at the ceiling, beginning to tangle with the web of emotions that accompany you. Once it gets too confusing, he drifts off as well. 

When you reach out for him in your sleep, he can’t deny you. Joel tries his hardest to pretend it doesn’t feel good, that this isn’t something he’s wanted to do. So he imagines the nightmares that come to you. Reminds himself that you wouldn’t have seen any of that shit if he hadn’t left you for dead. Now that you're in his arms, he’ll make sure nothing touches you ever again. The least he can do is hold you and make sure it goes no further. 

You both find reasons that you should stay the night. Neither of you acknowledge it. Joel just hands you one of his t-shirts and busies himself as you slip out of your clothes and get under the covers. It’s all rather innocent, Joel does more than rub your back even though you sometimes feel his morning wood through his sweatpants. If he wants you, he doesn’t let himself have you. And he could. 

It’s fine with you if cuddling is all this is. You don’t try to do anything more than that, unwilling to upset the unspoken agreement between you. You can be satisfied with a broad, firm chest to rest your back against. Sleep is better beside him, his heart beats guiding your own. The weight of his arm draped across you makes your body feel deliciously heavy.  

After a while, though, it happens. 

Joel’s having a nightmare. His murmurs and restless movements wake you. His mouth twitches and his brow is creased. You smooth circles into his shoulder until his eyes open. Even in the darkness you can see the despair in them. 

He blinks, coming back to reality, remembering he’s not wherever his dreams took him. You brush your fingers through his hair, gazing at one another as his breaths even out. Normally, his age is obvious– the lines in his forehead, the sun spots on his cheek– yet right now he looks young. Like a boy that needs to sleep with a night light. 

You’re not sure who initiates but you find each other in the dark. At first he’s not kissing you at all, his lips are just brushing your cheek or your nose. It’s sweet and gentle. You try to hold in a moan, worried that any noise might shatter this moment. 

The kisses are timid as if you’re both waiting for someone to stop this. Joel lets out a shuddering breath against you. This is a bad idea, you’re both thinking it. After you kissed him the last time, he held you at arms length. When this blows up, you’ll lose him entirely. But you need to be closer to him. 

You open your mouth to him, tangle your legs between his. His hand slides under your shirt, roaming your bare skin. You thought that snuggling under the blanket was enough but now you realize just how hungry you’ve been to be touched. Really touched. He needs it too. Joel leans into your hand on his jaw with a whimper. 

You don’t open your eyes. You might be the one dreaming and you don’t want to wake up. 

It’s quiet, just the sound of hot breaths and desperate kisses, the swish of the sheets as you shift your hips to meet his. You keep yourself from rocking against him, try to enjoy the feeling of him without crossing yet another line, but you’re aching. His shirt has ridden up so you feel the softness of his middle, the light hairs on his chest. Your fingers intertwine with his as his mouth trails down the column of your neck and. Joel buries his face there. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathes. 

You’re not sure what he’s apologizing for. This? Then? The years in between? None of it matters because you want to live in this moment forever. 

You shush him, pull him back to your mouth. You’re ready to lose yourself, to forget, to ignore the storm of thoughts constantly plaguing your mind. This is all you want. 

You peel off your clothing, helping him slide out of his sweatpants until there’s nothing between you. Joel’s skin is warm and soft against you and you realize you’ve never been this close to another soul. 

When Joel settles over you and you feel him throbbing between his legs, you shiver with nervous anticipation. You expect him to say something, to warn you that this is a bad idea, to promise this won’t change anything. But his brown eyes look as confused with need as you feel. There’s no room for thinking or it will crush this fragile moment like glass. 

You tilt your hips to allow him in, already slick from being so close to him. 

Slowly, he enters you, kissing you all the while. He makes a choked sound, wincing as his body stills. The noise makes you clench around him. 

Together you take a moment to get your bearings and you adjust to the fullness of him. Joel’s eyes are pressed shut, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. 

Before he begins to move, his thumb finds your clit, grazing it lightly. After years of solitude and now months being just out of reach of him, the sensation makes you gasp sharply. 

You’ve had sex a handful of times. They had been more about fulfilling a self destructive urge than a desire for pleasure. It’s never been like this. 

You start to lose sense of everything but the feelings of your body. Your core tenses and your breaths go short and you start to forget that it’s Joel whose hips are stuttering into you. It’s as if this euphoria can erase some of those awful memories. 

Soon you’re shattering beneath him, a crescendo that has you tugging on his hair and gasping for air. Joel grunts into your ear. He follows after you, hissing as he pulls out of you. He pulses into his hand, his release dripping from his fist onto your sweat damp skin. Then he collapses onto you. You run your fingers through his long curls and he kisses your forehead. There might be tears in your eyes– maybe his too. It’s too dark to be sure– but when his breath evens out, it still sounds ragged against you.

Eventually he gets out of bed and leaves the room and, in that moment, you can feel everything hanging over your head again– what you’ve just done, the horrors of the world. Perhaps even more intense than before. 

But Joel returns quickly. He flicks on the light on his bed side table and cleans you with a damp rag. His touch is gentle, reverent, and his dark eyes travel over your naked skin to yours. There’s a question in them, guilt, but you have no regrets. You smooth your hand out on the sheets beside you and he lays back on his pillow. He surrounds you with his massive arms and you fall asleep grateful that you don’t feel abandoned anymore.

You worry that it was just a one time thing, try to accept that it might never happen again. But the next time you share Joel’s bed, he’s pulling you into him, pressing kisses into your shoulder, nuzzling at the spot behind your ear. His hard length prods at the small of your back. 

It starts like that every time. Intimate, sensual, quiet. It’s never tearing his clothes off or pushing you up against a wall. You just stay close, breath each other in, trail fingertips across skin. Neither of you ever speak above a whisper.  

Joel barely talks at all except to ask, “That too much?” and “Feel good?” 

You live for the moments when his hand skates over your hip, his dark eyes soft. 

“Pretty,” he says almost to himself. 

He’s such a beautiful man. Your fingers trace the smooth plane of his chest, dusted lightly with hair and a few stray freckles. Age has only improved him. The greys in his stubble catch the glow from the lamp on the nightstand. You study him with the same attention to detail you used in your youth. The cleft in his bottom lip, the dimples on his lower back, the scar on his temple. You’ve memorized it all. 

Joel breaks open for you. He lets you see him vulnerable. He’ll fuck you with thrusts that shake loose deep emotions. Just as quickly, he’ll hold you together when it feels like you’re falling apart. 

You lay with him after, sticky with the shared heat of your bodies but reluctant to roll away and break the connection. 

Whatever this is, you don’t speak its name. There are too many questions and conflicts that it might not withstand. It exists only for you and him. A safe haven in the chaos, a bit of respite at the end of long years. 

In his arms, you’re not his dead daughter’s best friend. He’s not the man that left you when you needed him most. You’re just two people that need to not be alone. Each time, it’s the same. The overwhelming bliss of Joel making love to you is second only to the understanding that he’s finally come back for you. 

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