#farmers market series

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FALLOUT | 1.08 ► THE BEGINNING

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Chapter 3: Honey Trap

From: You Catch More Bees With Honey Series

Pairing: Mob! Bucky x Farmer! Reader

Summary: A Farmer’s Market and Pouring out your heart over a beer leads to Bucky learning more about his favorite mysterious farmer

Content/warnings: mentions of previous heartbreak and descriptions, a surprising amount of crying/near-crying, soft mobster Bucky, Heartless Jake, Creepy Cole, mentions of blood/period (not graphic and should be normalized because this happens to me all the time and I know I’m not alone in that), excessive drinking and lowkey alcoholism, cowboy hat rule, mutual pining and reluctance towards that, y/n used like three times

Word Count: 5,295

A/N: I didn’t mean for this chapter to be this long, but also, I definitely meant for it to be this long. Sorry for making dear, wonderful, Jake Jensen out to be a bad guy, and NOT sorry for making Cole Turner a creep. Likes, comments, reblogs, and asks are SUPER appreciated. Thank you for reading, I love you *gives forehead kiss*

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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Bucky knew lots of languages. Country was not one of them. You would think it would be, with how many arms purchasers were from the south, but he kept his dealings with those folk as short and formal as possible. It was better for his sanity and everyone else that way.

He’d been running into a lot of country folk today, helping you run this farmer’s market out of one of your barns. Half of his conversations with people were full of twangy words and phrases he didn’t understand, so he just lightly laughed, hoping that was the right response. The other half were children, asking him what the bump was on the side of his head, the result of the bee incident earlier this week. Before, it was slightly swollen and red, but it was nearly back to normal. Darn kids have keen eyes, though, and no shame. He’d just about had enough. These people were too polite, besides their annoying children. Lucky for him, though, he’d sold off the last of the turnip greens, and his cash box was full, so he made his way over to you at the stand holding the freshly jarred honey you’d successfully, and he’d not-so-successfully harvested earlier in the week. It was just in time to catch the tail end of a conversation he saw you were having with a slightly older woman.

“You’re like our very own honeybee”

“Oh please, Mrs. Jensen, you know the bees do all the work. I just put it in a jar”

“You’re too modest, dear. My Jakey says no one makes sweeter honey than you. I always tell him to come back and help if he loves it that much, but it seems he’s too late now. Looks like you’ve got yourself a new farm hand who’s easy on the eyes”

Bucky glanced up at her through his eyelashes with his signature smirk, raising to a stand from setting the empty turnip green crate at your feet. “Well you know what they say, honeybees don’t work alone. And their hard work makes the world go round.”

For some reason unbeknownst to him, Bucky slung his hand over your shoulder. Was it jealousy he was feeling? Possessiveness? Why, he didn’t own you and he promised himself he wouldn’t fall, physically or metaphorically (although it was far too late physically, and he didn’t want to think about how close he truly was metaphorically). Plus, it’s not like he was having the best time right now. This whole week was a nightmare, and the only reason he was in a decent mood was from seeing your smile as you interacted with the town’s folk today. You were a person of the people, in juxtaposition to how Bucky was often only looking out for himself. So why did the mention of Jakey make this feel necessary and why did it feel so right? Either way, he was proud of you and your hard work and the way it made people beam as bright as Mrs. Jensen. But he’d never say that. Where he’s from, hard work is expected and definitely not praised, although not nearly as manual. But seeing all the effort for that couple jars of honey made him question if the work he was even doing was that hard. Maybe he’d been away from the city too long and was losing perspective. Yeah. That had to be it.

“Well, either way, bless y’all’s heart for putting in the work. I’ll tell Jake you say hello.”

You and Bucky both waved goodbye.

“Well how about it Honeybee, Jakey appreciates all your hard work” he smirked, but watched the smile slide off your face.

“Try telling me that with our awful breakup years ago” you shrugged off with a small chuckle, but Bucky could see the light drain out of your eyes a little. He had obviously struck a nerve, but didn’t want to push farther, at least not now when there were still a few customers aimlessly shopping around for the last bits of produce left. Maybe he’d catch you once the two of you were alone.

You turned away from him to hide your grimace. Thinking back to that whole situation with Jake, on top of serving others all morning had completely drained you and it was quickly catching up.

“Um, why don’t you finish cleaning up the rest of the empty crates after you ask those last few people how you can help them with anything” you waved off Bucky back towards the other end of the barn, head down, starting to look through the cash box he had handed you. You waited until you could hear his receding footsteps on the hay floor to sniffle and take a deep breath. Bucky had keen ears, though, and hesitated hearing your sigh, before he continued on, giving you your chance to regroup. He had never seen you like this before, you were normally chipper and full of energy, often a little too much for his liking, but luckily it was Friday, and after he closed these deals, you both were home free.

Bucky quickly helped the last few stragglers take their rather large haul back to their car. An older man and woman who owned the bar in town had come to get some fresh vegetables for their salads, and Bucky convinced them to take the lot with his charm. That, and he wanted to make sure he didn’t have to carry them all the way back to storage. That was a long way, and you made him walk it. He rolled his eyes when you had told him about the task, too, handing him the handle to a little red wagon with a beaming smile on your face, insisting “that’s how Pappy did it before his first tractor” and “what did you think, I like wasting diesel for food that’s supposed to have a low carbon footprint? That’s why I’ve got you, Bucket.” So Bucky grumbled under his breath at first light, angry, yet amused that the nickname stuck, but still too tired to react any differently when he started the first of his dozen trips to move the produce from storage into the farmer’s market barn. And there was no way he was gonna do that again, so he convinced the couple to take the lot, even offering to carry it out to the car for them, because that was better than the quarter mile walk both ways through the tall grass of your fallow fields to return them.

“Thank you so much for your help, Jamie. You’ve taken such good care of us, you should come by the bar later if you can get some free time from Miss Y/L/N over there. She’s quite the hard worker, maybe bring her along. Drinks on us.” The older lady looked at Bucky with a soft smile.

Jamie, no one had called him that since his mom. Country folk and their want for instant closeness. He hardly knew this lady and already she was trying to be endearing, but her forced charm was nothing compared yours even when you weren’t trying. She looked over Bucky’s shoulder at you carrying a stack of heavy wooden crates out of the barn, hardly struggling, but very determined before sliding them back into the truck. Bucky’s eyes followed hers, a small grin of admiration creeping onto his face at your independence and mastery at everything you do, no matter how simple.

“Yeah, hardest worker out there. I’ll see if I can convince her to take a break.” He turned back and walked the lady to her door, opening it for her to get in.

“Drive safely. Hope to see you later Mr. and Mrs. Carter.” He shut the door and made his way back over to your truck. You had already gotten in and started it with the windows down. Bucky slid into the bench seat to be met by you with your forehead resting on the wheel in between your hands. You took a sharp inhale and shot up, putting on a fake smile, albeit less forced than earlier.

“Ready to go meet Curtis? We’ve just gotta touch base with him and then we’re good to be done for the day.”

“Um, yeah. Sounds good.”

Bucky wasn’t sure how to continue with you in that mood. Should be keep talking? Did you prefer the silence to think? The radio was low on the dash, but not silent, so he decided to speak up.

“Did you see who I was helping? They said they own the bar in town. Maybe we can go for a drink tonight? Celebrate a long week done?”

You sighed. Again. “Um, yeah. I actually think that sounds really good. We both need the decompression. TGIF, ya know?” You forced out a small laugh which Bucky returned and he turned forward as you continued the drive back toward your house.

When the two of you entered the farmhouse, your were greeted by Curtis, your weekend farmhand, sitting at the dining room table. He had already helped himself to a glass of sweet tea you kept in the fridge, mainly for him, which was made from your Aunt’s recipe he loved so much.

“Oh, good, you’re back from chores already.” Curtis had been kind enough to come in today to work on some tasks since you and Bucky had your hands full with the market. He usually only worked Saturday and Sunday since this was his second job, but he’d sometimes come in to help extra, like today.

“Bucket, this is Curty b—oh sorry, Curtis. He’s the one that makes sure things run smoothly when I’m not. He’s a whiz at fixing the machinery, perks of him also being the best mechanic in town.”

Bucky warily stepped forward, eyes narrowed, barely noticeable, and shook Curtis’s hand. Who is this guy who let himself into your house? “Bucky is fine, really.”

Curtis let out a chuckle, “nice to meet you, Bucket. It’s ok, I talked to Y/N about making cheese curds once, and she’s called me ‘Curty boi’ ever since.”

Bucky laughed and shook his head, looking over his shoulder. You just shrugged with a small smile on your face, already more relaxed and relieved to be inside your home with someone you didn’t feel like you had to put up a front for, that was reassuring. Bucky went into the kitchen to get you both a glass of water as you sat next to Curtis at the table, joined by Bucky sitting across after he handed you your glass. The three of you briefly talked about the chores Curtis had done that day, how the farmer’s market went, and what all needed done that weekend.

Curtis seemed nice, not threatening. The visceral tinge of jealousy left Bucky’s body as the conversation went on. If Curtis was going to make a move, he would’ve done it by now, surely. But the two of you were clearly just close friends. Why did Bucky keep feeling like this?

As you wrapped up, Curtis slapped his knees with both his hands and went to stand. “Well, I better get going, sun’s starting to get pretty low.”

Curtis and Bucky had been getting along pretty well, so you spoke up. “Well actually, Bucky and I were gonna go to the bar in town tonight. Care to join?”

“Yeah, I’d love to. There are just a few things I’ve gotta check on in the shop first, but I can drop by after. Does that work?”

“For sure. We’ll see you then” You and Bucky shared a small smile before you closed the door behind Curtis and turned back to the mob boss standing in your foyer.

“Ok, Cowboy. Good job today. Go take a shower, we’re going out.” Bucky beamed, which you returned, and he felt a warmth bloom in his chest at your praise.

“Yes, ma’am, Miss Honeybee” you smiled and rolled your eyes as he ran up the steps, following behind to get ready, yourself. He was really glad your mood was starting to turn around.

As Bucky went to his room to gather his clothing, his mind started to drift towards why he cared how you felt. He was just here for business, right? So why did it bother him if you were sad? If anything, he should want you vulnerable to help him come out on top of your business, but something deep inside of him felt more satisfaction when you were winning. He shook the thoughts from his head. Maybe a cold shower could help him sort this out.

Bucky came down the stairs and sat on the couch just as he heard your hair dryer start up. He had gotten ready quickly, throwing on one of his henleys, his nicer jeans, and a pair of boots Sam had sent him this week when he had heard about the whole ‘borrowing clothes situation.’

He shot Steve a text, telling him that the two of you were going out to the bar with Curtis, to which he replied Have fun, Bucket😉.

Ugh, why did he have to tell Steve about that, it was never gonna go away now. Bucky had gotten a call from Steve each evening giving updates on the business, with Bucky doing the same on his end, keeping it short, only noting the highlights and trying to keep his emotions in check and out of the updates. His best friend knew better, though, even if Bucky wasn’t fully aware of the extent of his feelings yet.

Bucky got up and walked around, looking through the photos and knick knacks in your living room, before stopping by the mirror behind your front door and checking his appearance. This look wasn’t what he was used to. He was extremely dressed down compared to the designer suit he’d likely be sporting in one of his clubs if he were back in the city. He hadn’t even bothered to gel his hair because it seemed you didn’t care when he did, plus, he wanted to save that valuable product for a real occasion, no use in wasting it to go slum with a bunch of hillbillies. He looked to the coatrack next to the mirror to see a hat that matched his boots perfectly and plopped it on his head, swaying side to side to see how it looked.

Just then, you started to make your way down the stairs but stopped in your tracks seeing Bucky in that hat. His head snapped up to look at you.

“What? Does this hat make me look dumb?”

You smiled and shook your head.

“No, not at all” Bucky could see tears well up in your eyes, accompanied by sparkles of fondness and, sadness?

“That was my uncle’s hat. He taught me everything I know”

“Oh, I’m so sorry” Bucky went to take the hat off but you stopped him.

“No- it’s okay. It looks good on you. Go ahead and wear it out tonight.”

Bucky looked back at you with a somber nod as you continued back down the stairs, taking a deep breath to settle the emotions that had nearly breached the surface.

Even in this state, you looked gorgeous. Hair flouncing in the breeze that was created as you drifted down the steps, wearing makeup he hadn’t seen since the first time you two had met and a sundress that blew him away. You were gorgeous in all states because you were you. Bucky looked down, kicking his feet, to pull his magnetic glance from you. He’s really gotta switch up the power dynamic here, and if there was one place Bucky could feel at home after a week of embarrassing himself, it was a bar. He grabbed the keys and you followed with an eye roll, getting into the passenger seat of your own truck. He didn’t even know where he was going, but he looked at you with a sly grin. Like for the first time, he had the upper hand, and that would only come from being anywhere but on your farm.

Bucky was a good driver, despite his statements about some guy named ‘Gio’ and grumbles about Sam, who you had met once before. Besides that, the drive was filled with laughs reminiscing all the mishaps he went through that week, well, mostly you laughing, and Bucky doing his best to hold a smirk from showing too obviously, his eyes narrowed at you in contrast.

The two of you pulled into town as you pointed Bucky towards a decent-sized building which housed the bar, still nothing compared to what he was used to. The two of you hopped down from the truck and walked through the front door, which jingled, signaling your entrance.

Bucky was greeted by the smell of old wood and stale beer, the dim atmosphere lit with old neon beer signs and fluorescent lights which hung over the pool tables. You looked back at Bucky as you crossed the threshold where he held the door for you.

“Hey, all I’m saying is, I bet you wouldn’t last a week in my world the way I did in yours.”

You rolled your eyes as you sauntered up to the bar, taking a seat at the corner, Bucky next to you, and a few more empty seats to the other side of him that would hopefully stay that way until Curtis came. As the two of you had walked up to the bar, you had seen a bunch of girls groups whose heads turned, seeing the stranger that was Bucky make his way across the floor. Why couldn’t he be ugly? And why did you let him wear that hat? Bucky didn’t even notice. His eyes were only on you, besides his trained peripheral vision catching the eyes of men whose heads turned towards, doing the same.

“Oh please, Bucket, you hardly made it through this week. I’ve never seen anyone cut their finger on wheat before. How did you even do that? You were literally up on the tractor… wheat should not have been anywhere near your hands, yet you came to me with several paper cut-looking marks. And what do you even do all day? Your hands have calluses but a totally different kind. You can hardly toss a hay bale a story high into the barn loft. I’m sure it wouldn’t be that hard for me to just sit at a desk, bark orders, and sign paperwork all day.”

Bucky’s mouth gaped open as he feigned offense and put his hand on his chest.

You flashed a fleeting smile at him in satisfaction as you waved down the

bartender ordering two shots of whiskey and two beers.

“Now just because that’s all you’ve seen me do for work, doesn’t mean that’s all there is to it.”

“Oh really? Please, Bucket, then be my guest…indulge me.”

“Well, if I told you, I’d have to kill you, so take that as one of the common requisites.”

He smirked at you, obviously more comfortable in this bar environment before your phone dinged and it was a message from Curtis.

Hey Y/N. So sorry, something came up at the shop. Rain check?

Yeah, no problem. Hope all is good, see you tomorrow?

Yep! Ty

“Well, looks like Curty boi isn’t joining us, so it’s just you and me, Bucko”

At that moment, the bartender set down the drinks in front of you and you and Bucky took a shot together, ordering an appetizer sampler platter to go with your drinks.

As the two of you nursed your beers, you joked more about Bucky’s farm mishaps and talked about all the men you had turned down from Bucky’s organization to get him out here.

“I’ve gotta be honest, I don’t know how you turned down both Sam and Steve. I’m hardly immune to their charms some days”

You laughed and threw your head back. “It’s not easy. They’ve both got these puppy dog eyes they make when I say ‘no’ to them, but they seemed pretty satisfied with the fact I wanted to see you in person.”

“And why exactly was that? You never quite said”

“Well, at first, it started as a way to delay the deal, but then I realized, if I’m going to be making some major changes to somewhere I consider a sanctuary, I wanna make sure it’s with the right partner” you nudged him with your elbow playfully and Bucky gave you a small grin. “But honestly, if I’m going to do something these days, I wanna do it at the source. I hate hearing important news from third parties, I mean, you’ve seen how I do business. It’s all me at the end of the day. Sure, Curtis helps out, but otherwise, it’s better to deal with things on my own and a few trusted people” you finished that statement breathless from your heated ramble. This didn’t go unnoticed by Bucky at all. Where did that come from? At first, to him, you were just another bug to be squashed in order to get more control over his industry, but did he care now? Did he truly care about what was upsetting you? What caused that hurt you were obviously tampering down? Does this have to do with Jakey?

Bucky hadn’t realized he said that last part out loud until you responded.

“No! Well, maybe? Like, sort of?”

“Can I ask? Can I ask what happened there? Only if you want to share”

“Um… yeah, sure, I guess. You’ve embarrassed yourself enough this week so I think you’ve earned this a little bit.”

You took a deep breath and began. “Jake and I grew up together. We met in kindergarten in school and were instantly close. We were the only two gifted kids in class, so the teacher sent us to the side for extra lessons while the rest of the class learned with her. From that point on, we were inseparable. Two smart little twerps who took on the world together, but our lives were so different. In middle school, I started to take on more responsibility on the farm and he started getting into computers, but we’d still see each other. In high school we started officially dating, and I was so happy to be with someone who I felt like intellectually got me. I think it was the same way for him, too. He’d crack such nerdy jokes, and no one got them but me”

You smiled nostalgically at the memory. “When our senior year came along and my uncle wasn’t doing that well, I applied to more local schools, but he didn’t. We had always talked about going off to college and living together, but he wanted that life to be far away from here, and I had obligations. I got into the local college on a full ride for agriculture and civil engineering, and he decided he’d rather go to MIT for computer science. I asked if he’d be willing to stay since he got into college around here, too, but he said he wanted to be around people who were ‘more like-minded to him.’ As if we hadn’t been the only ones who had understood each other for over a decade.”

Bucky gave you a sullen look as your head fell and you looked down at your hands. He signaled to the bartender for a water and two more rounds of shots.

“I just, I just didn’t understand how he could act like that after so long. So I asked him when he was leaving so I could see him off. We were still friends, after all, but he left without a word. When I saw him again over Christmas break that winter, I felt like he had turned into some overweening, highfalutin, jerkwad. I didn’t really know him anymore, and I had enough to focus on already, so I just kinda stopped talking to him. As you could see today, his mom still comes around, but it’s not really the same. I don’t think she ever really truly saw the way he changed, she’s too caught up in having a son who lives in Silicon Valley now, but apparently he still asks for stuff from the farmers markets.” You shrugged and thanked the bartender for the shots, pounding all four before you excused yourself to the restroom, leaving Bucky to sit there shocked.

He had known where you went to college and how smart you are, but things like what happened with Jake don’t show up on paper. However he clocked you before, you were even stronger than that, because despite how you were hurt, you still wore your heart in your sleeve and showed compassion to everyone around.

You washed your face and looked in the mirror. Sure, that experience with Jake sucked, but it’s been years and you were over it now. Didn’t mean it was fun to relive it all. You decided to go into one of the stalls, the alcohol already kicking in and making you have to pee. You sat down and that’s when you saw it: blood. So that’s the reason for the waterworks all day today. That’s why you felt so tired and couldn’t help tearing up at the slightest things. Luckily the girl in the stall next to you had some products. You cleaned up and washed your hands, forcing a smile in the mirror until it became real, honestly relieved at having a reason for your out-of-character behavior. You headed back out to Bucky in a much more chipper mood and he looked up at you with a quirked brow. He figured you’d taken the time you needed. He was appreciative of you being so open with him, and wasn’t going to question the switch-up since he was just so happy to see you being yourself again after a long day.

“Up for a game of pool, cowboy?”

“Oh, you’re signing up to lose, Honeybee”

“Ok, ok, best four out of seven” Bucky whined as you giggled, whiskey shots catching up to you as you held another beer bottle in your hand. Bucky was hardly affected, he essentially rocked this much alcohol in his system by noon on a daily basis. Just then, his phone rang, and he motioned to show you it was Steve. You gave him a thumbs up and started to rack the balls to set up for the next game.

You watched Bucky walk out the door as you felt a presence looming behind you. You turned around and stood up, eyes tracing up a body dressed in brown hues until you reached a set of blue eyes shaded by a cowboy hat brim.

“Oh, howdy, can I help you?”

“I sure hope so. Can I get you a drink? Two whiskey sours” the stranger yelled over to the bar.

“Oh, uh, thanks.”

“My name’s Cole, Cole Turner. What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all alone?”

He was handsome, there was no denying that, but something seemed off. You plastered your best fake smile on your face. You didn’t need a confrontation tonight, not in your favorite dress. You didn’t want to taint the memory of it because of some rando. Wait. Was he a rando? Where have you heard the name ‘Turner’ before? Before you could continue your train of thought, a waiter came over with your drinks. They were very sweet compared to what you’d had all night, just like his demeanor, which seemed like a thin veil over the surface. You tried to channel your drink’s energy into your words to sweetly reply until you could properly remember who he was through your alcohol-fogged mind.

“Oh, I’m not here alone. I’m here with a friend”

“Hate to break it to you sweetheart, but I don’t see anyone around. You up for a game?”

Before you could even open your mouth to respond, he grabbed a pool cue and made a move to break. After that, he was keeping a little too close to you constantly. You did your best to stay kind, but must’ve been sending the wrong signals as he asked you “You wanna get out of here? I’ve got a hotel room down the road.”

In an attempt to change the subject you asked “Oh, so you’re not from around here? What are you doing in town?” Looking towards the door hoping Bucky would be done with his update any minute now.

“Ah, I used to live around here. My family owns a string of dairy farms. I’m here to try and convince these small-town farmers to give up the land.”

Your eyes went wide. Luckily you were facing away from him. He was that Cole Turner. The one whose family ran a packaged beverage empire and prided themselves on squashing the little guy. You were lucky he didn’t seem to recognize you yet, as the last remaining competitor in town. The one he had probably come in to squash. Just then, lost in thought, you felt a hand snake around your waist and you flinched.

“Relax, Honeybee, it’s just me” Bucky whispered in your ear. Your shoulders visibly relaxed as you turned around and threw your arms around his neck, holding on for dear life. You pulled away, but not enough for Bucky’s hand to leave your waist, and looked between the two men, grabbing Bucky’s hat and placing it on your head immediately.

“Uh, James, this is Cole. He’s visiting town.”

Bucky reached out his hand Cole shook it. Cole took a large step back after, respecting the hat on your head, and, was he intimidated by Bucky’s stature? Sensing your discomfort, Bucky spoke up. “Nice to meet you. Shame we’re heading out now.”

You grabbed Bucky’s hand, not looking back, and headed straight to the door as quickly as your numb, wobbly legs would take you. Once you were met by the cool, crisp night air, you sighed in relief and rested your forehead on Bucky’s shoulder.

“Thank you for helping me get out of there”

He shuddered at your proximity and the comfort you felt in this type of contact. It felt natural and he never wanted it to stop. With a soft smile and a glance at the top of the hat, he said, “No problem, Honeybee. Let’s get home.”

He helped you get up into the cab of the truck, sliding you across the bench seat before he got in and started it up.

“So what was the deal with the hat? And that guy?”

You yawned and stretched, settling in against Bucky’s shoulder.

“Uh, when a girl takes a guy’s hat and puts it on her head, it means she’s going home with him. And don’t worry, I didn’t mean it like that, I just wanted that guy to get off my back. We can talk more about that later.”

You wiggled to get more comfortable, your hand still in Bucky’s as he used the other to steer the truck down the old country roads. Your eyes fluttered shut as you fell asleep on him. His eyes flickered between you and the road in the headlights ahead. He luckily had a good sense of direction and was able to remember how to get home from your instructions earlier.

When he pulled into your gravel driveway, your were sound asleep, softly snoring, drool having dripped onto his Henley, but he didn’t mind at all. He lifted you out of the truck and carried you up the steps, taking off your boots before tucking you into bed for the night.

Next >

Bonus A/N: so where I’m from, “Turner’s” really is a beverage empire and they make really good products. I just figured I can’t make a farm AU without putting Cole in it, no matter how inaccurate to character.

Series taglist:

@scuzmunkie

@openup-yourmind

[hadesoftheladies]

palestine is a wake up call to all the people in the global south and all countries and peoples that have experienced colonialism by western empires. especially following the western world's response to ukraine.

when you're flooded with footage of children starving, their bodies shredded by missiles, shrapnel and collapsed buildings, when you see once vibrant, beautiful lands reduced in seconds to rubble . . . you realize how easy it is to provoke a white man. all you have to do is a be a person of colour on your land with all its natural resources. that's it. all you have to do is exist on the same soil as your ancestors. and if a white man says you're in the way of his expansion, it doesn't matter what moral ethics you think white people have. it really doesn't matter what you expect of a human being. what conscience you think they have.

you will die. no one will rescue you. they will murder you. torture you. they will justify it. they will make jokes about it. and years later, when it's not too inconvenient for their people to feel guilt, they will feel sorry and still make what they did to you about them. about their "human complexity" and their "nuance." your people will be dead for thousands of years before they "apologize" (not to you but) to their descendants. and even then they'll lie. they'll blame the "internal conflicts of the region." conveniently leaving out who supplies the guns and military gangs. why. what they get in return.

what's happening in congo, tigray, palestine, haiti, iran, afghanistan, etc is not an isolated event. you cannot afford to think so. it's literally what they did from the 17th-20th centuries. the exact same tactics. the exact same propaganda. these are millions of people dying and set up to die within this year alone.

white man sees resource, white man cuts a bloody path toward it. he is superior, so it's his right. it's that simple.

if you are self-righteous about politics (especially toward western empires like france, britain, russia, canada and the u.s., etc.) please understand that the only thing between your "peaceful" or stable country and all-out war is how agreeable you are to the demands of these empires. please don't think these people have evolved or will consider you in any way. they will nuke you, too, if you resist. that isn't peace. we don't have peace with them. they aren't peaceful. complying under threat of war isn't peace. coercion is not consent.

if these insane people can hear from the mouths of their own scientists that their wars are killing their own people and accelerating the death of life on this planet, i don't know why you'd think they have a shred of humanity left in them. that there's anyone in this life they could possibly care for.

reject that lie. that you can appeal to their humanity. how many fucking "peace talks" have we had since hitler? for fucks sake. begin to build your community and focus your aid and efforts on each other. be aware, but also think smaller. focus on local businesses and markets rather than imports. let's change the way we consume (this is hugely important). wherever you are, whichever people concern you, take care of your own communities. give back. even if you're part of the diaspora. just find a way to give back and strengthen your communities. don't let "the drain" empty out in the west. i'm not claiming its simple work, or that i have all the answers. i'm just saying increase your awareness of how these empires and their propaganda function and don't give into them however you can afford to. you know what you can do. you know your own communities and countries better than i do. and we all know that one of the prime ways the empires keep us weak is by destroying or own intracommunity solidarity.

because there is no UN we can appeal to. there is no western "mediator" we can rely on.

they'd kill us all if it wouldn't tank their economy.

internalize that. don't ever let them coax any trust out of you. there is no "international unity" we can have with them because their prosperity will always require our suffering. resist, at least, by reclaiming your mind from them. see them outside of how they have conditioned you to see them. every time your president shakes one of their hands, see the blood smearing them.

don't trust a single word out of their dirty, lying mouths.

[guardian-angle22]

TK/Carlos + Looks

↳ 2.04 Friends with Benefits

[bed-no-more]

Day 1: Things to Do Instead of Binge

Watch the new Goosebumps with the kids

Take a nice long shower

Shop at the farmer's market (1st time I've ever been to one, it was fun)

Browse a craft show

Go home and be with the boyfriend for a few hours ❤

Drew him a lovely bath with candles and music

Read (I'm rereading the Gone series right now, I'm on book 2 Hunger)

Watch a documentary (we watched the one on the McKamey Manor)

Watch a comedy (we watched Bob's Burgers)

[jackiedaytona]

steve regularly bribes henry to get up in the morning so they can get out of the house before 11 am

[writeaboutit]

Donation Boot

How firefighter Abby and Reader met

Hello hello it’s been a bit so sorry but I had this idea for a series of sorts following firefighter Abby x Reader through life. I have ideas for a couple more stories but if you have any suggestions leave them in my inbox for sure 🤍

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: none just fluff

You heard her key jingle in the lock from the kitchen. The metal on metal scratching noise was like music to your ears despite it being like nails on a chalkboard to others.

That noise meant your wife was finally home. All day you had been waiting for her to come home, missing her warm cuddles. She left for the station before you had even woken up.

Usually you stirred awake for the briefest of moments in those early hours when you heard the shower start, you made it a point to stay awake just long enough to say an I love you as you sent her off to do her work. You never knew when it might be your last so you didn’t chance it.

But last night the melatonin must have hit you extra hard because you didn’t even register Abby’s movements when she leaned down and pressed a warm kiss to your brow bone before clunking out of the room in her steel toed boots.

You regretted not waking up; no more melatonin for you.

The front door creaked open and you heard your dog’s collar jingle as she ran to greet your wife.

Abby must have been following the dogs lead to your presence in the kitchen because you heard her mutter, “Come on, where’s your momma?”

Your heart was instantly a mushy puddle on the tile floor following the comment. Just as you finished drying your hands the love of your life rounded the corner.

She was wearing her normal uniform. Not the big, bulky, fireproof suit but the fitted jeans and the navy blue t-shirt with the station’s logo over her breast.

You were such a sucker for a woman in uniform, it’s how she caught your attention in the first place. But what kept you around was that blinding smile she had plastered across her face that first day.

You and your friends decided to visit your local farmers market during second year of college. It was a fluke really, you weren’t even planning to go with them but after days of them whining that you could spare a couple of hours away from the text books and come have fun you agreed.

The local fire station had a booth set up collecting donations and the truck open for kids to climb in and take pictures.

One of your friends thought a fire fighter was hot and insisted on getting a picture with him by the truck (her very obvious way of flirting). You couldn’t blame her though because you had your eye on one of the younger trainees.

She was working the booth, tracking donation levels and you knew you would hate yourself for the rest of your life if you ignored your gut.

So, despite you being 19 and a broke college student you approached. They were collecting cash donations in one of the big fire suit boots.

You slipped the only cash you had on you into the dark depths of the boot, ten dollars, and were planning to make your way back to your friends, chickening out of talking to her, when all of the sudden you heard, “Hey, wait!”

You turned around and there she was. She had gotten up from her perch and made her way around the table. It was a bit jarring at first. She was tall, muscular, that tight ponytail made her look very sever, and here she was leaning over you with an expectant look.

“Yes?” you asked hesitantly.

“Don’t you want your coupons?” she asked suddenly realizing that she was close and backing up a step.

“Sorry?”

The confusion must have been written on your face because she immediately explained in a sort of rambily but very cute way, “When you donate you get a coupon to the local grocery store… and some other stores but honestly there all the old lady stores in the mall. The grocery ones the only one worth it.”

You just smiled softly at her over explanation. You expected her to be this over confident, maybe slightly douchy character from the way she approached before but really you could see her nerves peaking through now.

It only made you more attracted to her in all honesty.

“Oh right, yeah thanks.” you took the coupon sheet from her and after a moment of tense silence between the pair of you, you both went your separate ways.

It wasn’t until later that night when you went to cut out the grocery coupon and throw out the rest that you realized she had messily scribbled her name and number onto the think colorful price of paper.

You squealed, your roommate asked what was wrong and then you both quickly plotted on what you should text her.

It was simple really just a quick hey this is so n’ so, how are you?

Your phone only sat face down for a total of three minutes before you heard the chime of her reply and the rest is history.

Now seven years later your wife, the nervous fire fighter with the tight ponytail, was coming home to you. You would share a meal, a shower, a bed. It was the life you always wanted and all because you went to a farmers market on a random Sunday seven years ago.

That blinding smile that caught your attention all those years ago was plastered across her face now in the small kitchen of your small house.

Her setting her bag down on the island brings you out of your memory.

“Hey honey,” you greet, making your way to her.

“Hi baby, what were you thinking about just now?” she wraps her arms loosely around your waist.

“Hmm nothing much just your pretty smile,” she rolls her eyes, never one to take a compliment, “Speaking of which, that smile usually means you’re plotting something. What is it?”

She looks down at you and smiles, “You know me too well. I was plotting on what we are going to do over the next three days that I have off of work.”

That gets you excited. It’s not often that she gets time off of work. Sometimes you don’t even see her for days at a time when she has to sleep at the station. Three days off in a row is practically unheard of.

“Really?”

“Swear,” she kisses your forehead.

“Eek, so what were you planning?”

She chuckles and belts her arms just under your thighs, lifting you into the air, “Oh I think you know exactly what i have planned.”

Her voice turned seductive and husky. You squealed as you became level with her face. You both laughed into a soft kiss, one that was definitely going to lead to a forgotten dinner on the stove and a closed bedroom door.

[covetyou]

ghosted

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: sex toys (satisfyer "glowing ghost"), unprotected P in V, creampie, oral (f receiving), reader loves floor time (so does Joel), angst (but we fix it), some anxiety/depression adjacent things. word count: 5751 summary: As spring moves into summer, the only thing you're wishing for is to be so far from the events of Easter, and Valentine's and Christmas before it, that you could forget and move on. But, by the time the end of May is on the horizon, the time between still isn't enough - You haven't forgotten, and you haven't moved on.

A/N: thank you to everyone still sticking with this sporadic-installment-series-that-was-never-meant-to-be-a-series. our next visit to these two will be 4th July in stars and stripes, but until then, enjoy 💛

(and yes I know I am technically later than planned with this for non Americas folk - I couldn't get the ending to my liking until suddenly I could, and now its gone midnight. whoops!)

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

If it was true that time flies when you're having fun, it was safe to say the opposite was true too.

You weren't having fun, and time was well and truly crawling by at a snails pace.

That wasn't for lack of trying. In recent weeks you'd spent more time out of the house than you ever had - lunch with friends, drinks with colleagues, solo trips to bookstores and farmers markets. There was barely a moment of time you hadn't filled with something.

It was probably a shitty coping mechanism, all things considered, but it was the best you had. You couldn't quite bring yourself to confide in anyone your secret shame of letting a stranger into your house and touch you like he belonged there. The even bigger shame of living in a place for so very long and not knowing how the door worked, not knowing the stranger was your neighbor, being so very consumed in your own life - woe is you - that you didn't bother paying attention to the lives of the people around you. So, you kept on willing the passage of time, and filling every moment you could with distractions.

It wasn't that you were usually one for wishing time away. A slow, warm spring before the blazing heat of summer consumed everything would usually be a good thing - even better now that you'd lived and experienced your first Texas summer and were soon to have your second.

What you were really wishing for was to be so far from the events of Easter, and Valentine's and Christmas before it, that you could forget and move on.

As it was, by the time the end of May was on the horizon, the time between still wasn't enough. Almost two months to the day, and it still ached and burned in you just as much as it always had, if not more. The embarrassment and shame of not knowing how to work a fucking lock was one thing, the fear of the danger you'd put yourself in was another. Then there was the sadness, the loss, the unexpected emptiness at losing something you weren't even sure you had to begin with. And then, in more recent weeks, was the longing.

And you didn't want to feel any of it.

When Memorial Day Weekend eventually rolls around, the blossoming heat of summer keeping you indoors, you lie there on your living room floor, a fan blowing not quite cool enough air across your sweaty body until a knock at the door disturbs the patterns your eyes were tracing on the ceiling.

The dimness in your vision doesn't go away, even as you blink away the dust and try to get your eyes to adjust. The sun had set, apparently. It wasn't completely dark just yet, but dark enough to cast the lower level of your home in shadow, and you hadn't even noticed. You technically had plans today - plans that had now gone to shit, much like everything else.

Hauling yourself from the ground, you unlock your door, no thought or care of who could be on the other side of it, because one thing was certain - it wouldn't be Joel. You'd lost hope of that weeks ago. Each time you opened it with a fools hope in your mind, you were instead handed a delivery and told to have a good day as you stared out into the street, disappointed that it was only a clitty-blaster-3000, or a new blender, and not Joel.

You mindlessly pull open the door, expecting to be handed a package you hadn't ordered, or to even see a friendly face coming to pull you out for plans you agreed to but didn't really want to do.

But there he is. Two months later - but not too late, you don't think - and entirely out of the blue. Nervous hands are thrust into his pockets with his thumbs twitching on the outside of his jeans, standing there like he didn't belong here at all, when everything in your body was screaming he's home.

This was far from the first time you'd seen him since March. The first time was barely three days after you pushed him away. April Fools' Day, of all days. Fitting, you thought, given how much of a fucking fool you felt whenever you remembered everything you'd done, and said, and felt. It turns out he was the owner of the truck you'd seen parked in a drive a little way down the street, father to the little girl you'd seen bounding out of that house so many times before. Neither thing made the hurt in your chest any less, and you'd driven past with a lump in your throat and tears in your eyes.

The same happens now, but you fight them back so you can see more clearly as his mouth twitches into a small smile, making you freeze on the spot. Your mind was already blank, but that freezes too, and you stare at him dumbstruck for a moment so long you're certain a flicker of concern dances across his eyes.

And you could close the door in his face, push him out and away just like you did on that day over two months ago, but you don't. As you come back around, finally letting your brain reconnect with the rest of your body, the only thing you can feel is relief and total utter joy at getting to see him up close again.

There's still shame too. That's been simmering low and mellow in you for so long now that it's fused with your bones - you're not sure you'll ever shake it - but it's the least important thing right now as you stand and look at him, more awkward and uncertain than you've ever seen him.

"Hi."

You're surprised it's you who speaks first, given how dry your mouth is all of a sudden, seeing him up close again and looking as good as, if not better, than he ever has.

"Hey," he says, before clearing his throat. "S'good to see you."

It's a voice you didn't want to forget, but apparently damn near almost had, given the way your body reacts to it. Deep and rumbling, with the slow southern drawl trickling down your spine like honey and settling between your thighs - though in all honesty that might just be sweat. It really is hot in here, worse now that you're standing, and the fan is doing absolutely nothing to help. You look a mess too - your hair, your clothes, your life - but he doesn't seem to mind, and you're grateful, because right now this is as good as you've got.

"Wanted to see how you were doin'. Figured we should talk," he says with another soft smile.

Stepping aside, you give him a small nod as you silently invite him into your home for the first time. Which should be funny, given the unknown number of times he's been through this door, but you're not ready to laugh about any of it just yet.

When the door closes behind him, it's soft and gentle, barely audible over the fan blasting warm air at you, and you wonder if it's always like that. If he's always quiet as a mouse, and you always too oblivious to notice - between the two of you, you didn't stand a hope in hell in figuring it all out until it was too late and blew up in your face. Now, here you are, egg on your face, the heat in the room not helping the heat in your cheeks, trying desperately not to send him away when you've just invited him in.

It would be easier if it all still felt like a dream, but it didn't. That had changed.

Joel had never been much of a normal man in your mind. He was more of a fantasy come to life. A fantasy that was slowly building into something more and more real with each encounter. Even now, stood in normal shoes, wearing a normal t-shirt, and even more normal jeans - just Some Guy by anybodies standard - he looks as beautiful and fantastic as ever.

"Wanted to talk to you sooner. Wanted to leave it up to you given - y'know. Everythin'. Didn't want you to think I was just bargin' in all the time when it was convenient for me," he says, this very normal man already making you feel both silly and elated that he was waiting for you as much as you were waiting for him. Obviously you could have gone to him first. You just couldn't do it. You almost had so many times, but the twist of your key in the door would twist something in the pit of your stomach too, and you'd stop before you even made it out the house.

You knew why. It was always the same thing. You didn't want to talk - not ever. You just wanted things to be okay, or not, and go on with your life. It was one of those childish things you had your mom to thank for - she wasn't great at talking about the important thing either.

The difference now was Joel. You wanted to talk to him, you wanted to work out everything with him rather than alone in your head. But prior to the door incident, that wasn't what this was and after - well, fuck - after, it seemed that it could have been like that all along but you were too damn late to do anything about it.

"Know you were angry with me - maybe still are - and I -"

"I wasn't angry with you," you blurt out, already aware of the lie the moment it leaves your lips. Joel is too, and he raises an eyebrow at you. "Okay. Yes. It pissed me off - you pissed me off. Happy?"

"No. Never wanted to piss you off, darlin'," he murmurs in return, and you can see that he means it by the way all of him softens, drooping in defeat at your admission.

"I... You embarrassed me, Joel. I feel embarrassed, okay? I feel like a stupid idiot, and I -"

You can already feel it all coming back. The swirling in your head, and the heat creeping up your chest and down your arms, not helped by this sweltering fucking house. It's like fainting, but instead of blacking out, a white hot rage is ready to ignite in you. And of everything, it's the thing you most never want to feel again. You'd take all the sadness, loss, emptiness, and longing of the last two months a million times over if it means you never have to feel this again.

" - and it makes me angry. And I hate feeling like that, like this, and I just couldn't come talk to you because I feel so stupid."

"Woah, darlin', c'mon now, we both know you ain't stupid."

"I don't know how to work a fucking door, Joel. Do you know how long people have had doors?"

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes before starting up again, hoping Joel will take the lead and talk for you first, but he doesn't.

"And I thought we were on the same page. That we were both doing the same silly thing, and it was okay that it was silly and fun, because we were both in on the joke. And... I liked seeing you. I liked it when you were here and it just - it just feels like it was a lie, and what I got out of it isn't what you got out of it. And that's okay, but it still feels stupid. I feel like an idiot, and an asshole, and knowing that you knew so much more about me than I knew about you, I just-"

"Do you want to?" he asks. "Do you wanna get to know me? Just gotta say, and it's done. I want you to know about me - I never meant to hide anythin' from you like that. And I don't want you to be mad, and I don't want you to feel embarrassed, cause the way I see it, we both got shit to be embarrassed about. I was breakin' into your house for months, thinkin' I was invited."

You wince a little, and he just smiles, shrugging his broad shoulders that what's done is done, nonchalance easing your anxiety for the first time ever rather than making it worse.

"I used to stand out there in front of your door and talk to your doorbell like you'd talk back to me any minute," Joel says with a laugh. "Course, now I get that you probably ain't got it hooked up. Never did hear the fuckin' thing ring."

Fuck. Right. Yeah, he's got you there. You'd bought it when you moved in, at your mom's insistence, and never got around to connecting it to anything. You figured it just being there would be deterrent enough and, other than visits from Joel, it had been.

He laughs again at your poorly masked grimace, and any other time you'd maybe be infuriated by him finding humor in something you'd been hurting over for weeks. It's not until you meet his eye and see the silliness in it all too - neither of you really did have any hope.

"Right? It's dumb. Not you, not me, it's just dumb. I even used to tell you when I'd be over next, let you know when to expect me. Leave out a key or put the door on the latch if it's okay for me to come by. I thought I was bein' invited in, but I was breakin' in. Shit. You're embarrassed, and I'm a criminal, I guess we're both losers."

Any anger you had is gone in a flash as laughter ripples through your belly and out your throat. In a way, it's all true. Joel was just as fucked as you, had just as much to be embarrassed and fearful about as you. Unknowingly leaving your home vulnerable to intruders is one thing, but being an accidental criminal for months is another.

"I liked it. I... I never knew when you were coming."

"Hey, if that's what gets your rocks off," he says with a wink, and you laugh again. "I ain't one to judge, but we can explore that in safer ways than keepin' a door unlocked day and night."

You both realize what he said the second the word left his lips.

We.

As in us.

As in together.

And you think he might take it back as quick as he said it, but he doesn't. He just looks at you, half fearful that he said the wrong thing, half hopeful that he said the right thing.

"Okay."

With one word he brightens, and you can feel it in you too. Whatever it is is mutual. Has been since the red velvet coat, since the wings, since the bunny ears, and all the spaces in between.

"Yeah? Cause I'd like to start over, if that's okay with you."

"Well, that sounds like a terrible idea," you say bluntly, because honestly you cannot think of anything worse. Joel's slow steps towards you falter for a second as he tries not to let the disappointment in his face show, but you're already smiling. "You can pry Santa, Cupid, and Flopsy from my cold, dead hands."

And his laugh is glorious, cracking open the remnants of the walls you'd put around yourself and letting your bones soak in the warmth of him, just as his arms come to wrap around you, pulling you against his chest. He smells so familiar - that's one thing you know about him. You might not know about his favorite color, or what he likes to eat, or even his daughters name just yet. But you know what he smells like, how his smile lights up his eyes, and how his hands feel on you, anchoring you in place even as you send yourself dizzy breathing him in.

He's going to kiss you too. You know that, and you welcome it, but before he can, you pull back.

"There's so much I want to know, I don't know how I missed so much."

"You get one question before I'm kissin' you."

You think for just a second before looking down to where your fingers curl into his shirt - an old Fleetwood Mac tee, so washed and worn it's like butter beneath your fingers.

With a wry smile, you look up at him from beneath your lashes, unable to hold back the laughter in your voice. "What are you dressed as today? Don't think I know this one, you're usually on theme."

"This? I'm just your plain ol' friendly neighborhood Joel Miller."

His lips are on yours then, pressing a soft kiss into the curve of your mouth, eyes searching yours for one, two, three seconds, before he dives back in, kissing you in earnest, making up for all the in betweens you'd been wishing away.

You wrap yourself around him, clinging to him, damn near wanting to climb up him, as you make out like teenagers in the middle of your living room. His hands wander across your shoulders, down your spine, grasping at any softness he can find along the way until his hands settle - one on your ass, and one gently cupping the back of your neck.

And as you kiss, holding each other close like you were long lost lovers and not whatever this thing between you was, you can't help but think that Joel Miller may just be your favorite Joel yet.

"Now, I got a question for you," he mumbles into your mouth, each word chased by your kisses. You've never wanted to seem desperate before, but right now you don't care, and by the way he's holding you, Joel doesn't mind either.

"Why the fuck do you have a nightlight?"

Shooting him an inquisitive look, you follow his gaze over your shoulder.

There on your counter, little light blinking away, is your very own clitty-blaster-3000, a luminous ghost with its mouth set in a permanent O, glowing brightly in the darkness. Shit. You'd brought it down this morning to charge, needing to keep a watchful eye on it and its janky magnetic charger to make sure it charged fully. You'd totally forgotten about it, and now here it was, glowing like a beacon after being out in the sun all day.

You try to pull away from Joel, but with his arms locked around your body, and his mouth pressing soft whiskered kisses to your neck, you don't have the strength, or the inclination, to move.

"It's not a nightlight, I can go put it away, if you just gimme-"

He tucks you behind him, swatting away your arms as you feebly try to reach around and grab it from him. Truthfully, you quite like the idea of him holding it, using it, but you feel bad that he might not know what it is.

"Not a nightlight, huh?" He says, grabbing the toy from the counter, said charger immediately popping off and clattering to the ground. He inspects it, turning it over in his hands, bringing it so close to his face it casts shadows across his features with its glow. "Oh, I know what this is."

"What is it then, smartass."

"Other than Pac-Man's worst nightmare? It's one of them clitty-blaster-3000 things."

Eyes wide, you double over, cackling and holding desperately onto yourself so you don't totally fall apart in front of him. He laughs with you, though maybe it's a little bit at you too, but you don't mind.

"What?!" he says smiling as he watches you fight to right yourself, gripping his forearm with laugh weakened fingers.

"That's what I call it!"

"Yeah? It good?"

His eyes are burning into yours. You know where this is going, and there's a brief thought that maybe you should stop it, slow things down. But you don't. Instead, you bite your lip and nod, making a noise of confirmation as Joel fiddles with the buttons on the toy.

A second later, it whirrs to life, a gentle throbbing buzz meeting your ears.

Joel puts his thumb over the hole, the suction gently hammering away at his finger tip as he clicks up and up through the intensity until he's well past a level you can use it at.

"Shit, yeah. Can see how that'd feel good."

"I, uhm, like to tease myself with it."

"Yeah?" he says as it clicks back down through the settings and rests on the softest one again. "Is that how you use it? Just to tease yourself?"

"No," you say, gasping a little when he raises the toy to your neck, pressing the mouth of the ghost to you as if pressing a kiss to your skin. "I - I just kinda stick it on there, to be honest. But I go slow with the - with the settings."

Joel clicks up one setting, the gentle thrumming at your neck intensifying a little.

"Yeah? You take your time? Give her what she deserves?"

You forgot what this was like - how easy and good it was to give in to wanting him, and how easy it was to let yourself have him too.

"Mhm."

"Good. Can't say I ain't jealous though. Missed comin' here. Seein' you. Thought about you, thought about comin' to see you but -"

"Thought about you too."

"When you were usin' this?"

You nod, tilting your head to the side and sighing as he glides the tip of the toy across your pulse point, behind your ear, down the column of your throat.

"Can I use it on you?"

You damn near want to tell him he can do whatever the fuck he wants with you, but the words are lost when you nod again and he captures your mouth in another kiss, brutal in its softness as he guides you back to your couch and all the plush cushions you have stacked there. Since Christmas, your home décor skills have definitely improved. Things look a little less bare, the place looks a little more lived in. There's still pictures to hang and empty spaces on shelves to fill, but you know those things will come in time. For now, you're grateful for the comfy place you've made on your sofa as Joel sits you down, guiding you down with strong hands.

Your shorts are quickly pulled off, the toy pulled from your neck so Joel can kiss his own better trail across your flesh. You hold him to you, anchor him into your bosom like he might drift off like a spectre in the night if you don't, but he's as latched to you as you are to him.

And then he's on his knees for you, jeans straining as his cock swells, hands gripping your thighs then pushing your shirt up, exposing you for him. Panties soon follow your shorts, yanked down your legs in a joint effort by your left hand and his right as he can't resist lapping at your mouth, tangling his tongue with yours.

He's everything you tried to forget, and some of the things you did. He's strong, and broad. He's gentle too, and soft - his eyes, mostly, but some other parts of him too. He's silly, and playful, smiling into your mouth and nipping at you, the hand by your thigh teasing the buzzing toy over the delicate skin there and delighting in your shudder.

As he moves it closer, the sounds of the suction against your skin making you both giggle, he moves down, burying his face into your neck and breathing in. You already know that it's never been like this before - that this is something new, just like every other time before had been something new.

"So you just stick it on, huh?"

"Lube. With lube."

His face is between your legs in an instant, licking messily around your clit, not really trying to get you off, just aiming to get you wet. When he pulls back, toy in hand, he raises the glowing toy mouth to his own and licks, smiling at the sound of it suctioning to his tongue.

"That good enough?"

And you nod, giving in to his kisses again before he breathlessly spreads you apart with both hands, looking at your cunt like if he blinks it'll all fade away.

"You know I ain't seen this for three months?"

"You been counting?"

"I missed you," he repeats with a breathless kiss to your thigh. "Missed this."

He lights his way with the glow of the toy rumbling in his hand, pulling back your clit for just one second, barely holding in a groan, before he gently holds the mouth of the ghost to you, pressing until the obscene slurp is muffled by full suction on your clit.

And it's divine, just like it always is, but somehow made even better by the man doing it to you. Fascinated eyes don't stop watching as it hammers air lightly at your clit in a constant rhythm, and the sight alone makes you drip. You're grateful for the heat now, and the sheet you'd covered your velvet sofa with, saving you an undoubtedly messy clean up later.

The toy slips when Joel climbs back off his knees to press his mouth to yours, and the air splutters and ripples past your skin again, as Joel laughs into your mouth.

"The sound of this thing, jesus fuckin' christ. Sounds like you're -"

"Don't. Don't make me laugh, you'll distract me."

"I like it when you laugh," but he's already pressing it flush to your skin again, stopping the sound and sending the ripples directly back to your clit.

"Ohh, f- "

"That's it," he says, watching as your hips rock ever so slightly into the throbbing toy sucking away on your clit. "Fuck, that's it. Lettin' me get you off with this thing."

"Think I can get some fingers in and keep this right where you need it?"

"Mm."

"Yeah?" he says, swiping at your entrance with his middle fingers, carefully holding the toy in place with his palm. "Just like that. There we go. Right in there. Fuck, I missed this. Missed bein' in here."

"Fuck."

"That's it. You come on 'em. Wanna feel it."

"Joel, down. Move it down. Ple- ah."

"There?"

"Right there," you sigh, panting and barely making it through the words before your eyes snap shut.

And then Joel is in your ear, his breath fanning against you, cooling you for a second even as his fingers stoke the fire raging in your core.

"You're fuckin' beautiful," he murmurs, and you just know he's looking down at you, the picture of a perfect mess. A sheen of sweat on your skin, lips swollen and parted as you gasp, thighs spread wide, hips rocking into Joel's illuminated palm, t-shirt rucked high over your hips, hands on your tits, nipples pinched between your own fingers, moaning, panting, coming.

You twitch in his arms, burying your head in his neck and breathing deep. Something about the position you're in can keep it going longer, can keep that thrumming pressure on your clit right where it is, past your usual limit, dragging your orgasm on and on until you're gasping Joel's name.

He gingerly pulls the glowing toy off of you - its brightness dimmed only slightly since you lost sight of it between your legs - fiddling with buttons until he gives in and throws it to the side to run his hands over you.

With a light kisses to your parted lips, he apologizes, giving you softly muttered sorrys for ever upsetting you, for taking so long to come talk to you, and before you can return the sentiment, he sends you laughing again.

"And I'm sorry for breakin' into your house. Accidentally."

Your laughter makes him shift, and his face contorts as he gasps in discomfort.

"Fuckin' jeans. Pinchin'," is all he says, as he tries to adjust himself. You can see his zipper strain with the weight of his cock, stiff and unattended, behind the thick fabric.

"Take 'em off."

"Came here for you, not me."

"And if I want you to come for me?"

Joel blinks.

"Then I'm takin' my damn pants off," he says, taking his pants off. He sighs in relief when the pressure on his cock is released, groans when your hand palms him over the damp fabric, gasps into your mouth when you slip your fingers beneath his waistband, finding his cock slick and wet with precum, curses into your hair when you lick the salty taste of him from your fingers.

Tugging his boxers down a little more, his cock springs free, slapping his wet tip against his belly. In a blink you're on him, pulling off his shirt as you go to suck wet kisses into his neck, his chest, and letting your fingers toy with his nipples and the other feel down past his boxers, cupping his balls and rolling your thumb across the sensitive flesh before he pushes up into you.

He's solid. You're surprised he didn't come in his pants with how firm he feels slipping against your cunt. You meet his thrust, grinding down into his solid length, trying to hold your own shirt up so you can see the tip of his cock as he ruts against you.

"Does that feel good?"

"Fu - yeah. Y'always feel good."

"Y'know what would feel better," you whisper, scratching gently down his chest and watching goosebumps prickle his skin. With a shift of your hips, his next thrust pushes in, just slightly, before popping out and grinding into your clit again. His next thrust - slower, firmer - notches against your entrance and pushes in, Joel's hands on your ass dragging you down, until you're seated to the root of him.

It's a stretch. It always was. But over three months, and a decline in solo sessions, made it even more so.

Still, even through the stretch, you rock against him, looking into the eyes of Joel Miller, the normal, every day guy who lives down your street, and smile at it all, and the look on his face that says he couldn't be luckier.

"Said I wanted you to come, didn't I?"

And you meant it. You show him how much you mean it as you start to ride him, lifting higher and higher off of him before pushing back down. Your thighs clap against his, wet with sweat and slipping together with each movement, echoing around your living room.

It doesn't last long. It can't. It's too fucking hot, and you're woefully out of practice as the stretch in your pussy turns into a burn in your legs. You can see Joel's face start to pinch and contort, looking between your face, your bouncing tits, and the slip of his cock in and out of you, barely visible in the shadows.

But you can't keep going. You'll pass out if you do. Joel's hands register what you're doing before his face does, gripping tighter and holding you down on him, before his mouth opens in a gasp, his head falling back after losing something he was so close to getting.

You barely pull in a breath of warm air before Joel is dragging you down, flipping you unceremoniously onto your back on the floor.

It's cooler down here, even with Joel's body over yours. It's why you were on the floor to begin with, before he came back, before you let him back in. Joel fumbles against you, the sweat on your body acting more like a full body lube at this point, before he slides back in, knocking the air out of you as he fills you all over again.

Even though his knees will be bruised in the morning and your back will ache, he pounds into you, gripping your shirt and pulling you down with each thrust.

And it's just so fucking good you can't help but practically scream as he fucks you, moaning loudly into his ear as he groans and pants and swears into yours. Your fingers can't find purchase against his back, even as you desperately claw at him. There's too much sweat - it's too fucking hot in here - but you wouldn't change any of the desperate mess that you find yourselves in here on the floor.

He's growling, balls slapping against you, fucking you so hard you have to throw a hand out to hold onto the couch.

"I'm gonna - fuck - look at me. Look. Fuck. Fuck."

He presses in then, spurting deep in you, stealing the air from your mouth, and you from his, as you gasp and groan with each shallow thrust of his hips.

When he pulls out, hands going from bruising grip to gentle strokes, he rolls off of you, his back slapping wetly against the ground just as your pussy makes its own equally wet sound. And you laugh, because it's silly, just like it always has been, with or without a costume or a name that's not quite his own to go with it. Joel chuckles along with you, content and dozy from his orgasm, the evidence of it trickling out of you and making a mess of your floor as your stomach contracts with laughter.

The house cools down in the darkness - not much, but enough. Your hands find each other again too, and you each dance small patterns across each others skin until words come back to you.

You talk there on the floor, sweat drying on your skin, until the rumble of your stomach becomes too distracting to continue. You learn his favorite color, what he does for a living, his daughters name. You even learn the exact make and model of his truck, something you immediately forget.

And when he tries to excuse himself, too frightened of overstaying his welcome, you invite him to stay, and Joel Miller, the best Joel you've ever met, says yes.

next part

taglist: @jupiter-soups@wannab-urs@bean-is-reading@not-a-unique-snowflake-blog@youandmeand5bucks-blog@bbyanarchist@vickywallace@kamcrazy123@valkyreally@ashhlsstuff@a-literal-goblin@ariundercovers@iluvurfather@stevie75@toxicanonymity@thesevi0lentdelights@sp00kymulderr

[abbyshands]

𐚁⊹₊ ⋆ YOU GOT ME, DARLING 𓄀 part 1

“i- i meant, like, heat-wise. it’s in the, um, 80’s right now,” abby replies awkwardly, scratching the back of her neck like it’ll settle the nerves having a field day in her veins. “but you are pretty hot,” she mumbles under her breath.

series masterlist (coming soon ...) | series document | READ THIS | DAILY CLICK | PALESTINE LINKS | main masterlist

𓄀 pairing: cowgirl!reader x city girl!abby anderson

𓄀 includes: masc!reader, tall!reader, reader has tattoos and piercings and is implied to be muscular, established friendships (abby x ellie, dina, and manny), reader has an established backstory, modern setting, flirting, reader has an accent so read as such!

𓄀 summary: you decide to represent your business, cowboy classics, at seattle’s annual farmer’s market, unaware that the universe would send an angel with blonde hair and blue eyes to your feet.

𓄀 notes: so i had a lil’ idea and i ran with it so i present this lil’ series i’m gonna start <3 i have lots of ideas for it so be prepared for it to be a lil’ all over the place if i’m being honest. also, eventual smut of course! please comment or let me know if you want to be tagged. alright now, enjoy! ♡

𓄀 wc: 3k

every year, seattle hosts a farmer’s market that lasts a week, the hottest week of the summer. for the last, dear god, however many years you had lived here, you had never come to it, much less represented your business at it. but this year, you figured, why not? all your other friends were pooling into the heart of the city to attend the yearly market, so why couldn’t you?

you weren’t the biggest fan of seattle when you first arrived here. it was a stark contrast from where you grew up, a little prairie in rural texas. you remember shuddering each time you passed by a building the first week you lived here, wondering, where the hell are the fields?

seattle was just so different. rainy, cold, urbanized down to the last letter. you had moved here from texas when you were only 18 by your parents’ wishes for you to go to a college, get a degree, and get a damn job. your parents had been hard on you growing up for reasons unbeknownst to you, not like it mattered. not then, and not now.

after studying in college for two years and narrowly managing to get an associate’s degree in business, you decided to not pursue your bachelor’s, instead getting right to work. you earned yourself a job as a construction worker, the closest you had gotten to home since moving to seattle two years prior. the hot days when the sun came out in the summer, the rigorous work outside, the dirt on your skin by evening to show for a job well done. it was all you could have asked for and more.

when you managed to get yourself afloat, considerably well off, you ventured right outside urban seattle and scored yourself a little farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, far up a mile long dirt road. it was perfect, reminiscent of that old texas charm you had missed so dearly since leaving it. and then, when you finally settled down, you purchased a place bordering the urban and rural areas of seattle to make your own, where you used your associate’s degree and your casual texan charm to open a business.

cowboy classics read the sign hanging off your stand as the hot summer sun beat down on your back, shining down on your skin, which glistened with sweat as you set up your stand. thank god your stall had a roof, or else you’d be a goner for the next few hours that you’d be at the farmer’s market.

the market was crowded that morning, and more people were drawn to you and your stand than you were ready for. you couldn’t say you weren’t flattered, especially when you made a solid hundred dollars in the first hour and pretty girls were all but falling at your feet to buy your merchandise.

cowboy classics consisted of several products right off your farm. fruits like apples, berries, and melons, veggies like corn and peppers, and herbs of all kinds, such as cilantro, parsley, and rosemary, which you had grown yourself. dairy products, like fresh milk in classic milk jugs, regular and strawberry, cream cheese, and smooth butter. jams and jellies that the folks back home and your friends here in seattle could die for. and last but not least, handmade soaps and candles.

one would wonder why your shop was called cowboy classics when you were clearly a girl, if it weren’t for your heavily masculine energy. it seemed to radiate off of you, like the very sunrays shining down on your skin. from your voice, deep and low, thick with a rural texan accent, to your attire, a flannel and jeans, a belt with a big buckle and boots, and you couldn’t miss the cowboy hat, to even your scent, musky cologne mixed with the smells of your farm and all the products you produced from it.

now, city girl abby anderson couldn’t be further from a cowgirl. having grown up in the heart of seattle, washington, abigail “abby” anderson works as a personal trainer at a gym a few blocks away from her house. as tall, big, and muscular as she is, she couldn’t be more awkward. she wasn’t clueless, she just preferred her bed to being so human as to socialize. she was a little shy, but complex in nature, her sweet blue eyes easy to get lost in, her blonde hair shaping her freckled face to flawlessness.

the yearly market was always fun for abby. her dad would always take a few days off his shifts at the hospital just to bring abby to the market, unable to resist the way her eyes lit up when they settled on all the wonders the place had to offer, at least for a little girl. now that she was older, she had grown to adore it even more. it was all so raw, so natural, and the products at the market were inexpensive and could actually be of use to her.

abby was walking through the market with a few friends beside her. her best friend, ellie, her girlfriend, dina, and one of abby’s closest friends, manny. manny liked the market as much as abby did, though it was less for what you could buy and more for what you could take home with you. in other words, the pretty girls. ellie previously just liked to accompany abby to the market, but since having met dina, she came more for dina’s love of it.

“shit, it’s hot,” abby said, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead for the third time in the last ten minutes. her pale forehead glistened with sweat, little blonde baby hairs plastered to it.

ellie chuckled, nodding. “this heat wave’s no fucking joke. we’re going to be liquid by the time we get out of here.”

“ooh, look at that! those shirts are so cute!” dina suddenly exclaimed, causing the group’s attention to snap to a stand of hand knitted shirts and randomized accessories, like scarves, purses, and gloves. before ellie could even respond, dina was dragging her by the hand to the stand.

abby chuckled, having grown quite used to dina’s impulsive nature. when she turned to her side to look to manny, she realized that he had also wandered off, easily finding him chatting up a pretty girl at a different stall. abby rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t keep the amusement off her face. those were her friends for you. looks like she was on her own.

if she was being honest, she preferred to walk through the market alone, at least when she was actually looking through the vendors for good finds. it was reminiscent of her childhood, this little piece of seattle that gave the city girl a taste of what it was like on the other side of urban, even if it only lasted a week.

abby was walking through the market, having yet to find a stand that piqued her interest, when one poked out at her. curiously, she squinted to get a better look at it, her feet approaching it of their own accord. the owner’s back was turned, but abby could tell that it was a woman, one that was a sight for sore eyes, at that. but what interested her, too, was the variety of products at the stand, produce and dairy products, jams and jellies, paired with what looked like soaps and candles.

it was only when she turned around that abby’s attention was hers, and hers only.

who the hell is that?

the closer abby got to your stand, the more intrigued by you she was. you had a face that could bring anybody to their knees, clad in a flannel and dark blue jeans, a brown belt with a huge buckle, and jesus christ, a black cowboy hat to top it off. it was like she had looked one way and been in seattle, washington, than turned and teleported into rural texas. she couldn’t help the way her eyes raked over your body, taking you in in all your glory, tattooed arms and hands with a prominent tattoo on your neck and collarbone, several silver piercings in your ears.

alright, she’d bite.

and she hoped you would, too.

your interest was piqued when you saw her walking up to your stand. the girls who had approached you thus far were pretty, but this girl was a downright stunner. blonde hair tied back in a braid that fell over her right shoulder, exposed by her black tank top, paired with her brown cargo shorts. she had these pretty blue eyes, too, pretty blue eyes that sparkled like sweet diamonds in the burning seattle sun, accompanying the prominent freckles on her nose and cheeks. 

she was muscular like you, only it peaked out in her arms, hands, and thighs, whereas your muscle presented itself in your broad shoulders and chest. you can’t wipe the grin off your face as she approaches your stand, and you set down the soaps you’d just picked up from a crate behind you on the stand, seeing as you had just sold out for the second time since arriving at the market.

“hey there,” you smile at her, and shit, even your voice is alluring, and it matches your face just right. dark, deep and low and thick with rasp, a texan accent to it that was impossible to miss. it was embarrassing for the blonde, just how fast her face heated up, that is, and she gave you a shy smile in response, along with a little awkward wave. “see somethin’ ya’like, baby?”

yes, you.

abby cleared her throat, nodding, trying so hard to ignore the way her stomach flips at the way that last word slipped off your lips. “uh, yeah. your stand is really cool,” abby said, a rosy blush covering her cheeks and nose as she inspected the soaps you had just set down on the counter. before you can respond to her compliment, she asks, “did you make these yourself?”

you nod to confirm, looking down at the soaps she was referring to. “sure did. handmade all day. the folks here quite like ‘em. sold out twice,” you said, leaning over the counter, eyes settled on the blonde girl before you. abby’s battling to ignore how nervous she feels at being in the presence of such a handsome woman, heavily aware of how much taller than her you are.

and she never meets girls who are taller than her.

abby takes one of the soaps into her hands. pine, her scent of choice in cologne, hair products, air freshener, candles, whatever it may be. she would marry the damn scent if she could. reading the label, she realized the scent of the little handmade bar of soap was a mix of pine and vanilla, and she lifted it to her nose to give it a smell, earning the blonde’s instant approval. “well, i can see why. this smells great,” abby commented.

“i’m glad’ya like it,” you chuckle as your tongue darts out to lick your lips, your eyes raking over the girl for the millionth time since she had walked up to your stand. you can’t help but be curious about her. unlike most of the girls you had met at the market thus far, she wasn’t throwing herself at your feet.

though you wouldn’t mind if she did.

“i’m abigail, by the way. abby,” abby said with that awkward grin of hers, putting her hand out for you to shake. abigail. jesus christ, she never introduced herself like that. you were making the poor girl so nervous she couldn't even think right. you take her hand into yours, kissing the back of it before telling her your own name, tipping your hat. shit, even your name made her heart skip a beat.

was there a damn thing about you that abby anderson wasn’t attracted to?

“it’s nice to meet you,” abby smiled, unable to tear her eyes away from you and all the products your stand had to offer. she walked over to a little shelf beside it, stocked with candles of all scents. “did you make these, too?”

“that i did, darlin’. use the same scents as i do the soaps, so if’ya like that pine one, it’s there,” you say. abby nods. you didn’t have to tell her twice. somehow, it only smells better to her when the scent of pine and vanilla fills her nose in the form of a candle. and, of course, because you made it. she sets the candle and soap onto your stand, timid as she slides them over to you, a small mumble of, “just these,” leaving her lips.

you take the candle into your hands, grabbing a piece of brown wrapping paper from the stack of it you had behind the stand. you put it down, setting the candle in the middle of the sheet of paper before wrapping it up and putting it into a little bag alongside the soap. abby would be drooling if her lips were parted, watching the way your muscles flex at even the smallest movements as you wrap the candle up for her.

you give abby a price, to which she takes out her wallet and hands you the bills, graciously telling you to keep the change. you smile at her, more than thankful for her kindness, but not needing the extra money. “that’s alright, baby. i’ll get’ya your change, though i appreciate the gesture,” you return, reaching behind you to fetch a few ones and coins. but not before abby cuts you off.

“n- no, really, i insist. you deserve it,” abby says a little too quickly. an angel this one was, that was for damn sure.

you chuckle, shaking your head. “well, aren’t you sweet. insist, huh?”

abby nods firmly, though the blush on her cheeks betrays the show of confidence. “yes, i insist. you’re going to be here all day, you’re selling awesome products, and you’re hot. it’s the least i could do,” she says, like the fact was common knowledge. you lean in just to tease her, raising an eyebrow.

“ya’think i’m hot, darlin’?”

abby’s eyes widen at how close you get to her face, and how suddenly aware she is of her own existence. she almost can’t hear you over the sound of her heart rattling in her ears, pumping in her chest as the musky scent of your cologne fills her nose. she tries and fails to not let her eyes wander down to your lips and fuck, her head was spinning, spiraling with the handsome cowgirl she could die happy now that she’d met.

“i- i meant, like, heat-wise. it’s in the, um, 80’s right now,” abby replies awkwardly, scratching the back of her neck like it’ll settle the nerves having a field day in her veins. “but you are pretty hot,” she mumbles under her breath.

you sure as hell don’t miss it.

“well, thank’ya kindly, darlin’. you’re mighty fine yourself,” you smirk, and abby’s head was spinning. how did people like you even exist in real life? you were right of of a western movie, the way you looked, the way you sounded, even your energy alone was enough to throw a city girl like abby for a loop. “but you’re damn right. fuck, sweatin’ like a damn sinner in church in this heat,” you say, taking a second to stretch as you do.

abby can’t help the way her cheeks burn at the simple act of you cussing. and she’d tear her eyes from you right now, if it weren’t for the way your flannel rises when you stretch, revealing the lower part of your torso. you make direct eye contact with her and shoot one of your signature smirks her way before speaking. “well, if you’re gonna be such a sweetheart, s’only fair i do a little somethin’ in return,” you say. you reach behind you to the little cooler that’s filled with all the dairy products you make on your farm, rummaging through it. “d’ya like strawberries?”

abby nodded, wondering what you were getting at. “i do.”

“alright, then,” you nod in return, pulling out one of your jugs of strawberry milk and sliding it across the counter towards her. “can’t have a pretty thing like you burnin’ up in this heat, now can we? promise you’ll like it.”

abby cursed the blush on her cheeks, hoping you’d think she was getting sunburnt instead. pretty. you think she’s fucking pretty. “i- i’m sure i will, but i don’t think the change i gave you covers this,” abby said, just about ready to reach into her wallet and give you every last bill in it. but you shake your head, taking her previous words.

“ah ah ah. i insist. alright?” you say, and there’s a no nonsense way about the words that leave your lips, like you won’t take no for an answer, so firm that it sends chills down abby’s spine. she pouts and she’s fucking adorable as she does it. and when she gives you a reluctant nod, you smile. “attagirl.”

jesus christ.

“i’m going to pay you back for this. somehow,” abby says, a hint of brattiness to her voice. you can’t say you don’t like it, especially when it’s accompanied with that cute pout of hers. you chuckle as she asks, “what do you want?”

“hm,” you pretend to think about it, putting your hands on your hips as you push your tongue into your cheek. abby’s trying and failing hard not to look at the sweat dripping down your tattooed arms. you make up your mind, then look down at her. “why don’t’cha come back tomorrow? late, when the market’s ‘bout to close. i’ll show’ya how to make it up to me,” you say with a wink.

abby’s heart skips a beat at your words. she doesn’t think she’s ever been more happy to hear a promise like that one. her smile is equal parts coy and shy as she responds to you. “i’ll be here.”

no matter how confident you look on the outside, butterflies are swarming ‘round your belly within. a pretty girl like this one, shy and sweet, generous and kind, was going to come back tomorrow to see you, no convincing needed. had you died and gone to heaven? you smile, blowing abby a little kiss. “alright, then. take care now, abigail,” you tease, just as she’s about to walk away. abby playfully rolls her eyes at you.

“abby.”

𐚁⊹₊ ⋆ taglist! @aouiaa @plutolovesyou @soupycloud @xayn-xd

[cobrakaisb]

ballad of a homeschooled girl

summary: a new arrival at camp half-blood is anything but extraordinary, but your attachment to the broody head counselor and claims of a mother who supposedly has no children cause suspicions to arise

word count: 3.9k

featuring: broody!luke who is somewhat soft for reader, angst, reader seems delulu (but she’s not trust 🤞), mostly primer for my upcoming luke series  

series masterlist ||| next part

the air is humid, causing the sheets to stick to your already clammy skin. you shift in the small cot, peeling the bedding off your skin, relaxing when the cool breeze caresses your arms and legs. it’s peaceful, and your chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm. just as you’re about to cross back into dreamland, a girl’s voice causes your eyes to open. 

“she’s waking up! look!” she yells, and you know that she’s pointing at you. 

you sigh, propping yourself up on your elbows. you look around drowsily, trying to make sense of your surroundings. it’s when you make eye contact with a girl who has light pink hair, that you realize you’re no longer walking down a busy city street, hustling through the crowd. confusion settles in, and you wonder how you ended up in this infirmary, and whatever happened to that crazy lady who was trailing you. you open your mouth, trying to speak, but the girl just shoves a cup with a straw in it towards you. 

“drink,” she demands. 

you hesitate, uncertainty clear on your face. how can you even trust this girl? she seems to sense your emotions, because her hand rests gently on your forearm, pushing the drink closer to your chapped lips. 

“drink,” she repeats, and you nod. 

a small sip can’t hurt, you decide, and your lips wrap delicately around the straw. as you drink the liquid, you realize that it tastes like the pina coladas your dad would make with the fresh pineapple from the farmers market over the summer. you smile fondly at the memory, relaxing further into the uncomfortable mattress. you sigh in relief, feeling the throbbing in your head diminish. the tranquility, however, doesn’t last for long because the girl with the pink hair returns. 

“i’m anna,” she starts, taking a seat on the edge of your bed. “how much do you remember before you got here?” she continues. 

“where is here exactly?” you ask, shifting in the bed to put some distance between the two of you. 

her eyes widen, and something along the lines of confusion and distrust cross her features. she doesn’t say anything, just spending a few minutes analyzing you. a wave of self-consciousness washes over you; do you really look that distraught? 

“you have no idea what you are, what we are,” she mumbles. there’s both amazement and sympathy in her voice. 

“i’m a girl, if that’s what you’re asking,” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest. 

she laughs at you. “you’re in for a rude awakening,” anna replies between giggles.

the next day, you're walking out of the infirmary with strict instructions to go see chiron. you have no idea who this guy is, but all the med staff assure you that you’ll know when you see him. it’s only when you come face to face with a half-horse, half-human -- a centaur -- that you understand exactly what they meant. he smiles at you, and you assume that he’s trying to be comforting, but you still feel so uneasy.

“come. we have a lot to discuss,” he says, resting a firm hand on your shoulder as he leads you towards another room in the old victorian house. 

you nod, walking along the veranda towards an open-aired room. the walk feels like a thousand years, as other campers point and whisper in your direction. you want to shrink in on yourself, but you don’t. miraculously, this air of confidence envelops you, and you march into the room with steady and sure strides. the other person in the room looks at you and chiron. he’s older, adorning black sunglasses and holding a diet coke. he rolls his eyes at the sight of you, getting up from his adirondack chair, grumbling about how much he hates kids and wishes he could have a drink. you raise your eyebrows, looking to chiron for an explanation, but he just shakes his head. 

“sit, then we’ll talk,” he promises, gesturing to one of the empty seats. 

once you’re both seated, it’s quiet. you don’t really have anything to say to the older man in front of you. you’re still confused by anna, and all the cryptic comments she made these past two days. you have no memory of how you got here, or why. nothing makes sense to you. 

chiron seems to know that though, as he says, “i understand this can all be very confusing. so let’s start with the basics. you’re at camp half-blood, a safe haven for demi-gods. for people like you.” 

he pauses for a moment, probably expecting you to say something, but you don’t. instead, you turn to the left, staring out to the water. it’s so serene, completely contrasting your inner turmoil. when chiron realizes you don’t have anything to say, he continues on:

“here you’ll prepare for battle, complete quests, make friends, and live your life free of worry. at the end of the summer, you’ll have the option of returning home, or remaining as a year-round camper. for now though, i’ll have one of our older, more experienced demi-gods give you a tour. unless of course, there’s something else you’d like to discuss?”

the way he’s looking at you suggests that you should have more to say -- some deep dark secret waiting to be revealed -- but you don’t. he waits, but once you don’t acknowledge his words, he sighs, rising from his seat. you follow, moving towards the door with him. as you hand grasps the handle, it tumbles open, and your body moves forward. thankfully, you don’t crash to your feet, or collide with the person in the doorway, but your cheeks flame in embarrassment. 

when you look up, you’re surprised to see a boy. he looks to be about your age with his tall stature and muscular frame. his face is blank, almost bored looking, except for the hints of anger and annoyance in his brown eyes. his jaw is firm and locked, as he crosses his arms and gives you a once over. he hates me already, you think, and while you wish you didn’t care, it stings just a bit. 

“this is luke, our head counselor. he’ll show you around camp, and help you settle into the hermes cabin, your temporary home,” chiron explains. 

you nod towards luke, but don’t comment on anything chiron says. without another word, he turns on his heel and marches down the steps of the front porch. his pace is brisk, and his long strides make it hard for you to catch up with him, but you manage. once you’re walking side by side with him, it’s quiet between the two of you. he doesn’t point out any of the details, and his speed makes it hard for you to actually absorb anything. 

“if you’re gonna walk so fast, the least you could do is explain what everything is,” you snap, annoyed.

he stops walking all together, huffs, and turns to face you. in the bright light of the sun, you notice his scar. it’s pale white and risen above the skin, alerting you that it’s still fairly new, and runs from the corner of his eye to his jawline. he should look scary or intimidating, but you only think that he looks angelic. you gasp softly at the realization, lips parting. his eyes dart down to your mouth, and there’s something almost sinister in his gaze when he finally starts talking. 

“archery range, lava wall, and training arena,” he grumbles, pointing out all the spots closest to you. 

instead of looking at all the places, your gaze is still focused on him. he rolls his eyes, facing forward and continuing on his walk. 

“if you’re going to ask me to point stuff out, at least pay attention when i do,” he snaps. 

now it’s your turn to roll your eyes as you follow him towards a horseshoe of cabins. each one is different and seems to represent their own thing. as you’re walking past the center, you notice that there are two lone cabins in the middle. you freeze. your head tilts as you observe the cabin on the right. you feel a strange pull towards it, and start following the invisible string tying you to the building.

“what are you doing?” luke asks, and from his tone you know his arms are crossed. 

“i need to go there,” you explain, looking over your shoulder at him. 

“the hera cabin?” he questions, following you. 

you nod, continuing on your path towards the cabin. you climb up the stairs, and tentatively touch the door handle. it creaks open, daring you to come inside. you turn back to luke, who’s waiting at the bottom of the stairs with an uncertain look in his eyes. 

“i have to go in here, but i have no idea why,” you explain, feeling something close to bashful. 

he nods, swallowing an imaginary liquid, before climbing up the stairs after you. he waits patiently behind you, his left shoulder grazing your right as the two of you stand on the porch. you want to go inside, need to go inside, but the rational side of you is preventing you from doing so. it all feels like a trap. 

luke, noticing your unease, mumbles, “there’s a barrier. nothing can hurt you here, not like they could out there.” 

he doesn’t clarify what the other there and in here are, but you know exactly what he means. the creepy, often imaginative figures you’d see out in the city aren’t present here. you haven’t felt their presence since you woke up in that tiny bed in the infirmary. whatever is drawing you to this cabin, is something else, a higher being. before you can continue to deliberate, you push open the door and step inside. 

it doesn’t look much like a cabin, rather a temple. the entire thing is made of marble, complete with large columns from floor to ceiling. on the walls, there are several engravings, and when you look closely, you recognize them as peacocks. your fingers trace over the intricate design, and your sense of anxiety quells tremendously. when you look towards the center, at the giant statue, you feel somewhat relieved. 

“this is my cabin,” you announce. the statement shocks both you and luke. 

“what? no it’s not. hera doesn’t have kids, that’s zeus’s job,” luke says. 

“c’mon, time to go,” he continues, grabbing your shoulder and trying to push you out the door.

you dig your heels into the floor, refusing to move. you know everything you’ve said so far sounds crazy, is crazy, but you have to be here. you try to come up with an explanation, anything to make sense of the situation, but remain empty handed. 

“you’re right. let’s just go. sorry,” you reply, letting him lead you back out the door and down the stairs. 

it isn’t until you step foot in the hermes cabin, his cabin, that you realize your duffle bag is missing. all the other kids, which is a surprisingly large number, have various personal belongings scattered around their sleeping area. some of them have comic books, others have small trinkets, and a couple even dare to show off their stuffed animals. luke walks further into the cabin, the crowd parting like the red sea. they’re quiet, and watch eagerly as he opens a closet door and pulls out a well-loved sleeping bag. the whispers don’t start until he waves you over, and places the item directly next to his bed. 

“you sleep here,” he mumbles, pointing to the spot on the floor. 

“what? i told you about the other cabin,” you shout, frustration present in your voice. 

the hermes cabin is quiet, all of them listen in on your conversation with their head counselor, their older brother.

“and i told you to drop it,” he replies, and there’s a subtle warning in his voice. you can’t decide if he’s trying to say this isn’t the time or place or if he’s insinuating that you’re fucking crazy and he wants nothing to do with it. 

“where’s your stuff?” he asks, completely changing the subject. 

you notice he does that a lot, but answer, “i don’t know. my duffle’s missing.” 

his eyebrows furrow at your words, and he crosses his arms again. he throws his head back, gritting his teeth. 

“alright! who took her stuff? cough it up, let's go!” he shouts. 

luke’s met with silence, which irks him even more. he turns away from you, facing the swarm of pre-teens and teens. he flashes them his most unamused look, one he’s been carrying with you all day, but continues to wait patiently. 

“somebody better own up to it, or i’m taking away dessert privileges,” he announces. 

the room immediately grows noisy with everyone whispering to each other. some kids are trying to determine who it could be, while others are fully putting the blame on their siblings. there’s even one girl who whispers about how luke never does this for anyone, so you must be special. 

you try to come up with an answer to luke’s question. who took your bag? but you can’t seem to figure it out. you know you had it with you when you left your dad’s house, but then things turned messy extremely fast. you remember the strap when that weird dog thing followed you into the alley, and how you grabbed it by the handles to shove it in the overhead compartment of the amtrak. but after that, everything gets kind of blurry; days melting into one. finally, you decide that it must not have made it to camp. 

you tap luke’s bicep, and he turns away from the crowd to meet your eyes. “i don’t even think it made it here,” you whisper, biting your bottom lip. 

luke sucks in a breath, nodding his head before turning back to the crowd. “never mind guys, as you were,” he dismisses. 

you crouch down, hoping to set up your sleeping bag and take a nap, but he stops you with a hand on your arm. he gestures for you to follow him with a tilt of his head, and you agree. he leads you towards the back of the cabin, outside a supposedly hidden door. when you step out into the bright sunlight, you stop and let your hand cover your eyes, but luke is already walking towards a forest. you follow, easily catching up since he’s walking slower, and match his strides. once the two of you are far enough into the woods, out of the earshot of nosey campers, he sits down in the grass, beckoning for you to follow. 

“tell me everything you remember,” he says, a serious look on his face.

you look down, fingers twiddling with the strands of grass. you pull your knees up to your chest, wrapping your right arm around your kneecaps as you continue to braid the grass with your left hand. from your observations, you know luke is anything but patient, but he doesn’t push you to say anything. he just sits there, palms splayed on the grass as he leans back on them, looking at the fluffy white clouds and clear blue sky. 

“i don’t know how i got here. i keep replaying everything in my head, but i wasn’t even near the woods. then, i was just here,” you whisper, finally looking towards him. 

you find that he’s already looking at you. intense brown eyes meeting your lost and confused gaze. he nods his head, signaling that he’s trying to process your words; looking for a meaning in the code, one that even you can’t decipher.

“why’d you leave?” he asks, and you stop fiddling with the grass. “your house i mean…why leave?” he continues.

he’s looking down at his bright red converse, and there’s a certain vulnerability in his gaze that you’re all too familiar with. you raise your eyebrows at his expression, thinking about what his question reveals about him. maybe he doesn’t have a family. and that thought just makes you sad, so you decide to answer him honestly.

“i love my dad, but there were too many odd things happening, things he couldn’t explain, and stuff my therapist didn't believe. there were winged horses, their manes the color of the pitch black night. or dogs the size of a dumpster, and then that brunette lady who follows me around everywhere. i just wanted to keep him safe, so i left,” you explain, meeting luke’s eyes for the second time. 

“i get that, wanting to protect your family, i mean. i’d do the same for my sisters,” he replies. 

you hum in acknowledgment, leaning back on your elbows and extending your legs in a straight position. you tilt your head back, enjoying the warm sun on your exposed neck, and the soft rustle of the flora around you. you turn your head, eyes squinting to look at luke, and your gaze is immediately drawn to the scar on the left side of his face.

“what happened to you?” you ask, tentatively. 

luke sucks in a breath of air. his jaw clenches and anger swarms around in his already dark eyes. his hands ball into fists at his sides, and you realize that maybe that was too personal of a question.

“you don’t have to answer,” you backtrack, “it just seems like a story worth telling.”

he laughs bitterly, “it’s not. my dad sent me on a fucking joke of a quest, and this was the result. all pain, no glory.” 

you frown at his words. you don’t want to pity luke, because you know that luke doesn’t want that from you. he wants people to understand him; to listen to his feelings of resentment and disappointment, and despite only knowing him for an hour max, you decide that you’d do that for him. 

“don’t beat yourself up about it. the gods are stupid anyway, my mother’s cabin doesn’t even have a bed for me to sleep in,” you say. 

there you go again with the mother thing.

“your mother can’t be hera,” luke announces, finality in his tone. 

“i know that. but i know that she is. she’s the one that’s been helping me; the one who brought me here,” you explain, finally making the connection.

luke shakes his head in disbelief, “i think you’re going crazy from lack of food.”

you open your mouth, ready to protest his accusations, but luke cuts you off with a fierce look and wave of his hand. he stands up from the grass, holding his hand out to you. you huff, but wrap your hand around his, as he helps life you off the ground and to your feet. once you’re on your feet, you go to remove your hand from his, but you find yourself face to face. he’s already looking at you with a mix of admiration and curiosity. no one’s ever looked at you that way, and you can’t fathom why he is. 

“what? is there dirt on my face?” you ask, pulling hand from his to wipe at your chin. 

he laughs, loud and joyous, then answers, “no. you’re just different.” 

you huff, again, and cross your arms defensively. “my therapist says i’m just unique,” you say. 

luke laughs again. his shoulders shake and he has to stop walking to gain his composure. you wait the few minutes it takes for him to collect himself, and feel the smile taking over your features. there’s something enchanting about his laugh, you think, and that thought scares you. you shouldn’t be getting this attached. not yet. 

“can we go to lunch, please? i’m so hungry,” you complain, breaking the aura of radiance and joy.    

the sound of your voice sobers luke up, and he nods in agreement. he doesn’t even acknowledge you any further, just walks through the path in the woods, towards the center of camp. his strides are back to being quick and long, and you struggle to keep up with him. but you chose to ignore it; you shut him out. 

the walk back feels infinitely longer, and you’re relieved to see the dining pavilion. it’s a large mess hall, with picnic tables inside the building as opposed to out. each one of them holds various campers, and you notice how there is a giant fire pit burning in the middle of the room. it seems counter intuitive; no need for the warmth of the fire in the stifling summer heat, which becomes more apparent now that luke’s cold nature is back. 

you chance a look at said boy, and find that he’s already watching you. without saying a word, his hand comes to rest at the small of your back; palm splayed on the region between your jean shorts and the hem of your bright orange camp shirt. he gently pushes you forward, and you comply, following his lead. as you walk, you hear the campers whispering. they’re not subtle. 

“that’s the new girl.” 

“anna says she’s crazy, has no clue what a demigod even is.”

“i heard she’s not even a real demigod, just someone to bewitch luke.”

“oh he’s bewitched alright.” 

you clench your jaw at their words, an angry fire in your eyes. you hate when people talk about you behind your back, and you’re not afraid to let these thirteen year olds know that. you whip your head around, so fast you’re surprised you don’t whiplash. as your mouth opens, ready to spew out insults, luke pushes you forward and away from the culprits. your anger only shifts from them to him. 

“what’s your problem?” you demand, stopping in your tracks to face him head on. 

“i’m not the one with the problem here,” luke mumbles. 

for some reason, that statement hurts you more than it should. you laugh bitterly, blinking back the tears that are threatening to come out. it’s been a day and everyone already hates me. 

“right, i get it,” you reply, stepping away from him when he tries to reach out for you.

“no that’s not what i meant,” luke says, desperation in his voice. 

“fuck this. i don’t even want to be here anyways,” you announce. 

before he can say or do anything, you’re out the door.

you wander through the camp grounds, fighting off tears. there’s no reason for you to be acting like this; people have always hated you, so why would camp half-blood be different? because it was supposed to be different, you thought. the path you meant to take, back to the hermes cabin, veers off course until you’re standing in front of the hera cabin. you don’t hesitate this time, to climb the steps and take refuge inside.

once the door closes, and the lock clicks, you come face to face with the looming statue. her eyes pierce your soul, and you sink back in on yourself. it’s a statue, you remind yourself, and that boosts your confidence somehow. you look her in the eyes, and swear her gaze meets yours. 

“why would you bring me here?” you ask, voice wobbly from the tears. 

“i hate it here! and i hate you!” you shout, stomping your foot like a child. you feel like a child. 

you sink down to your knees, forehead coming to rest on the ruffle of her toga. the marble is cool and smooth against your hot skin. the temperature change grounds you, and slowly, your tears subside. 

you decide, in that very moment, that these people won’t see you cry. ever.       

[moonstruckme]

Hi, I love your writing, I recently read your James Drabble about reader and James being domestic and reader eating all the blackberries. It gave off such summer comfort vibes, I was wondering if you would be able to write something with either James or Remus (you choose I love them both) and reader going to a farmers market or just laying in the summer sun while reader reads and maybe tracing lines on her back. I know I gave you a few ideas, but if you’re comfortable writing something, anything thing would be good, your writing’s always good.

Hope you’re having a lovely day :)

Thanks for requesting, hope you're having a lovely day too <3

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 794 words

The sun is warm on your back, beating off the white of your book’s pages so glaringly you’ve had to put on your sunglasses to read comfortably. The top you’re wearing is cut low in the back so you can soak in the rays, and you’ve laid a blanket down on the grass to do just that. James is meant to be running the trail around the park, but he’d announced his break twenty minutes ago to snack on the strawberries you’d bought at the farmers market and has somehow fallen into tracing shapes on your bare skin. 

You’re pretending to still be immersed in your book, but it’s growing difficult. 

“What are you doodling back there?” you ask him. 

“Working on my cursive,” he says, drawing a loop next to your spine that makes you shiver despite the warm day. “My teachers were right, I lost the skill once I stopped practicing.” 

“You’re writing? What are you saying?” 

“Nonsense, really. But—hold on, I’ll try to write something and you tell me if you can understand what it says.” 

You laugh. “Okay,” you say, but James presses a hand to your back to still you, shushing with mock seriousness. 

“Shh, lovie, you’re shaking my canvas.” 

You set your chin down on the blanket, giving up on reading and closing your eyes to decipher James’ messages. 

His finger makes a couple of odd loops on your back, and you guess, “Do?” 

“Yes!” 

Another series of loops. They tickle as they get lower, and James tuts when you wriggle slightly. 

“Wait,” you say, “I didn’t get that one.” 

Your boyfriend sighs heavily. You think you can hear a smile in the sound. “Fine,” he says with great reluctance, “I’ll do it again, but please try to pay attention this time. I’m trying to ask you something urgent.” 

You smile to yourself, but focus in as he traces the letters again. 

“You?” 

“There we go! Knew you could do it. Alright, stay with me…” 

James makes it fairly easy on you. The majority of the words are short and simple, only a few letters. Do you want some…

You get stuck on the last one, making him repeat it a few times, slower and slower, until you guess, “Strawberries?” 

“Finally.” James lets out a big breath, drooping forward so he’s laid across you with his chin digging into your back. “Angel, you know I love you, but I don’t think that was my cursive’s fault. I think you need to work on your reading comprehension skills.”

You roll your eyes. “How is asking me if I want strawberries urgent?” 

“Because I’m about to finish them off.” 

“Wait, actually?” James’ weight lifts off you as you push yourself up on your elbows, turning to see the container of strawberries you’d bought only an hour ago. It had been heaping then, but now there are only a handful left. “Jamie, really?” 

He at least looks appropriately abashed. “You weren’t reaching for them,” he says, tanned shoulders creeping upwards, “and they’re really good! How much restraint am I expected to exercise here? I’ve left you five.” 

“I haven’t been reaching for them because I don’t want to get my book sticky.” You pout, exaggerating your distress for what you know it’ll get you in return. “I didn’t expect them to all be gone by the time I was ready.” 

“Aw, sweetheart, I could’ve helped you with that.” He picks up a strawberry by its stem, holding it out for you. “Here, open.” 

You sigh but tip your mouth open obediently, biting off the tip. Sweet, slightly sun-warmed juice explodes into your mouth. 

“That wasn’t hardly a bite at all,” James chides. “Have another.” 

You do. “I’m beginning to resent you more now that I know how good these are,” you tell him. The sweet tang lingers on your taste buds even after you’ve swallowed. “We should only get our fruit from that vendor from now on.” 

“They clearly know what they’re doing,” he agrees. He gives you another strawberry after the first is finished, musing while you crunch, “Come to think of it, I’m starting to suspect you only pretended not to know what I was writing so I’d give you a back massage.” 

You laugh. The thought actually hadn’t occurred to you, though his touch had felt nice moving over your back. “Write me another message, and I’ll let you know.” 

James swipes a finger up the length of your spine, laughing when you squirm at the odd tickle. “Would you like me to bring you a glass of lemonade while I’m at it?” he asks.

“Mm, that’s alright. We just need to find some palm fronds for you to fan me with, and I think I’ll be set.”

[qwimchii]

𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘴 (pt 4) — 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺

pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5

𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘤𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯!𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨. 𝘸𝘤 — 3.4k

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘸𝘸 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘯𝘯𝘯, 𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘬𝘦𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨

note: omg okay i know this is so short but i promise i will be posting the next part (which is quite long!) in a couple of daysss so here's some more flirting and angst for you!! >< also thank you for all the love and support for this series :,))

you couldn’t keep your sworn promises against Simon for long.

the next day, you were already back in the basement of the church for another support group meeting. it was mid-day, and you were showing the progress of your individual projects in the past week.

Kate had forced you and Simon, re-masked and clad in black, to sit side by side, leaving you itching with exasperation, because if you thought it couldn’t get more awkward than when you first met, it was so much worse now.

he made more progress with the sewing project than you had believed he could—a third of his box already finished, you realized, as he presented its contents to the rest of the girls who practically cooed over him.

they almost went ballistic when he pulled out your old hello kitty pouch you lended to him. his glare boring into the side of your face, you scrambled to explain that he borrowed the materials from you—including the pink pouch. they all deflated, the smiles dropping from their faces, and you bit a snort at the way Simon relaxed back into his seat.

he really hates attention, you noted, then wiped the thought from your mind, because since when were you keeping mental notes on him?

the rest of the meeting continued on, dull and boring, till Kate applauded the group for its progress and announced that you all would be going on a little field trip to the pumpkin patch a couple streets down. 

your mouth went stale. pumpkin carving. you almost forgot you’d be sharing that activity with Simon as well.

you glanced at him, finding him already gazing at you, eyes quickly flitting away when your eyes met his. you cocked your brow at him.

weirdo, you thought, though it came out half-hearted and made your stomach feel all warm and gooey. 

you attached yourself to Maya and Sarah the whole walk there, Simon a few steps behind, and flanked by some girls who were eager to get in a few words with him. Iris, a married woman, was one of them, you noticed with a little burst of annoyance.

looking back at him from over your shoulder, Iris flush by his side, you sent Simon a nasty glare and his eyes only narrowed, head tilting like he was confused, but your head snapped forward with a hmph, promptly ignoring him again.

you practically stomped the rest of the way, Sarah and Maya locked in conversation with a couple other girls who paid no attention no mind to your strange behavior. by the time you neared the farmer’s market, your outburst had dwindled, and you were conversing with the girls intermittently, craning your head to get a look at the little pumpkin patch.

side-stepping to catch a glimpse of the market’s vegetable booth outfront, you were totally unaware of the biker making his way down the sidewalk from behind, you would’ve crashed into him if a strong arm didn’t hoist you over by your waist.

you shrieked as the biker whizzed by without a second thought, clutching at the arm snug around your waist.

“careful,” Simon hissed, voice rough and throaty in your ear as he set you down. he smoothed your shirt of the creases he had just created, touch warm against your clothes.

scrambling from his grip, you mumbled a meek sorry, flushed with embarrassment as the other girls checked on your well-being.

“are you okay?” Sarah asked, face flicked with concern and you just nodded quickly, throat tight when you noticed Maya’s eyes dart from you to Simon (who you stubbornly ignored) then back to you again.

Sarah followed Maya’s gaze and strung an arm through yours, pulling you close between her and Maya when she whispered, “what’s going on between you and Simon?”

“nothing,” you hissed, knowing how unconvincing it seemed. 

Maya eyed you carefully. “what happened when you went home together last night?”

your throat only tightened at the memory. “literally nothing. he was kind enough to offer me a ride home and i invited him inside for one drink. just one.”

she nodded slowly, but looked completely unconvinced.

Sarah added with a sincere look, “i thought you didn’t… you know, hang out with guys.”

you grimaced. “i don’t.”

she pursed her lips, sharing a look with Maya, though it wasn’t unkind.

“i’m happy for you,” she said with a light smile, patting your cheek. “i’m happy you’re friends with Simon now.”

you bit back a groan. “we’re not—”

Kate shushed you from the head of the group and you jolted, completely unaware that she had been talking at all. you screwed your lips together at the glare she sent you, sending her a ferocious one of your own, and her face twitched with brief amusement before turning back to the group and dishing out some instructions.

it was simple—you’d be helping some kids from the local daycare pick out their own pumpkins to paint. not so simple was the part where you’d be helping in pairs.

moping, you trudged over to stand beside Simon, still refusing to look at him, and filed into a line on the sidewalk to cross the street. at the farmer’s market, some kids were running around, screaming and shouting and squealing as they played.

you let the smile creep onto your lips at the sight of one of the little girls in a yellow raincoat and big, red rain boots even though it was sunny as ever outside. she ran past you, slowing with a shy look, curls bouncing against her head, before she ran off again to play with her friends.

soon enough, the group dispersed, moving around with the daycare teachers to help the kids. you stood by Simon for a long moment in silence. taking one glance at the hulking man, covered in black, to decide that he needed to take off the surgical mask.

you pointed to your face, mouthing mask, and you were dismayed when his eyes narrowed, slowly shaking his head.

you rolled your eyes. “it’s for the children.”

he sighed, ripping the black mask from his face and crumpling it into his hand, shoving it into his pocket.

you nodded in approval, moving to help one boy struggling to pick up a pumpkin half the size of him. with the softest words you could muster, and a gentle tap on his shoulder, you willed him to move over and let you do it. he relented, and you picked up the pumpkin with a huff of breath, carrying it over to the pick-up truck on the side of the road where you were instructed to put the pumpkins. the boy happily skipped beside you, singing out a thank you as you pushed the gourd across the bed of the truck, smiling after him as he ran off again.

looking back to where your partner was, you bit back a snort at the sight of a couple kids shyly prodding at him, two running circles around him, another hanging off his outstretched arm. 

he stooped down to pick up a big pumpkin when a little girl pointed to one, the little girl in a yellow raincoat and curls, clapping with excitement when he did it with only one hand. the kids bumbled after him as he walked toward you, your heart swelling at the relaxed, content look on his face, saying something to a little boy tugging on his pant leg, another girl clutching at his hand.

when he stopped in front of you, eyes flitting between you and the pumpkin in his hand, you let out a soft oh, snapping out of whatever daze the sight had put you in, and you hoisted up the heavy thing, struggling to push it into the bed of the pick-up truck. two arms came flush around your shoulders and helped you lift it, chest flush to your back and his breath by your ear as he shoved it back so it knocked against the other pumpkins.

“thanks,” he said, voice gravel and breath warm on your neck before he stepped back. your throat closed up, unable to choke anything back except a low hum and nod.

he let the kids drag him back towards the pumpkin patch, a couple of them demanding that they hang from his arms. in response, he held out an arm, and two boys latched on, swinging with squeals as he walked.

your stomach roiled. shit. he was good with kids. in a silent, calm sort of way. 

nothing like your own father, an faraway voice ruminated with awe, and you immediately quelled the thought, the fast thud of your heart in your throat deafening. shit. was this what he meant by maturity?

as much as you tried to rid yourself of the thoughts, it was almost impossible, spiraling around your mind as you helped the kids till they had effectively filled the back of the pick-up truck with an array of different shaped gourds of varying colors.

meeting in a big circle to close the event, the pack of daycare kids said their thank yous and bid their goodbyes, that little girl in a yellow raincoat hanging off Simon even as the rest of the kids were following their teachers back to the little daycare. he had to pry her from him, saying something in a low tone that you couldn’t make out from across the circle, till she nodded with hesitancy, sending him one last bashful look, before scurrying off to join the line of kids filing down the sidewalk from the farmer’s market.

beside you, Maya stared at Simon with a sort of reverence you had never seen on her before, and your heart almost shattered at the sight. curling an arm around her shoulders, her eyes dragged from Simon to you with a confused look. you just returned it with a light smile, beginning a ramble about the events of the day that Sarah happily chimed into, adding her own stories and thoughts with an animated nature.

Kate thanked your group for all the help, dismissing you to the rest of your sunday evenings, and you startled when she made a beeline directly for you, plucking you from the conversation as the rest of the girls began discussing where they’d be eating dinner.

“walk with me,” Kate said sharply, a tight smile on her lips as she looped her arm into yours. you had no time to protest before she was tugging you down a path through the pumpkin patch, away from the rest of the group.

when you looked back, you pretended to not notice Simon staring after you, a couple other girls, including Iris, still flush by his side.

“i heard from a little birdie that you and Simon have been getting along well,” Kate said, and you rolled your eyes.

“i know you’re talking about Sarah, Kate.”

she grimaced by your side. “right. Sarah. she told me.”

you gave her a long look. “i know you asked Sarah, Kate.”

she ignored you this time, stopping when you were at the edge of the forested park beyond the farmer’s market. you were ready for her to begin lecturing you—commanding you to explain yourself and the strange, tense atmosphere between you and Simon…

instead, she asked, a foreign tinge of plea in her words, “how is Simon doing?”

you blinked at her. “how is he doing?”

she nodded. “how is he doing?”

“i…” with a murky feeling of guilt, you realized hadn’t really taken the time to consider it. “i think he’s alright.”

she sighed out, fishing around her pocket, pulling a cigarette from it, and a lighter from her breast pocket.

“do you mind?”

you just shrugged. you were used to the smell from working at the auto shop, your dad going through a pack a day bent over cars to complete an endless list of repairs. it’s no wonder he passed so soon.

pushing the old, stale thoughts away, you pried Kate. “why? is everything alright?”

she took a long drag, politely turning her head to the side to exhale out against the chilly fall air. “just between you and me hon’, i worry for him.”

you rolled your eyes, pushing her shoulder playfully. “he’s a big boy. i’m sure he can handle himself.”

she gave you a wistful smile. “something like that.”

your brow quirked, eyeing the tired look on her features carefully. “sounds like there’s stuff you’re not telling me, Kate.”

she sighed long and heavy. “i was the one who kind of forced him to do this thing. i’m surprised he hasn’t walked away screaming bloody murder already.”

your brows raised slightly. “why’s that?”

she just chuckled in a dark, mirthless tone, brushing back her hair. “s’just not in his nature. he refused to go to a personal therapist, so i offered the group thing to him instead. i honestly think he’s just doing it to make me happy. or maybe to make me finally leave him alone.”

you swallowed hard, thinking back to the dirty blonde man, tall with a heavy build, skin surprisingly warm to the touch. you weren’t foreign to the same beliefs, avoiding personal, one-on-one therapy your entire life because the vulnerability of it was too…

you grimaced.

“has he told you anything?” she asked suddenly, and you frowned.

“what do you mean?”

“has he opened up at all?” she rephrased, and you blinked at her, unsure what to say.

“he has,” was all you confirmed, and she nodded, looking a bit relieved.

“good. good to hear.”

with that, the conversation ended, and you walked a step behind Kate to the girls who were still chattering about dinner and, somewhat unsurprisingly, Simon nowhere in sight. though the vacancy of his presence still felt eerie.

Sarah pulled you to her, pointing down the street, saying they’d be going to a comfy little joint known for soups and sandwiches, but after your conversation with Kate, your stomach roiled with discomfort. waving them off, you promised that you’d join next time, feeling guilty from all their kind remarks—no, come with us, no, we’ll miss you—but you took off in the direction of the church, ready to rid yourself of all the crawling, creeping sensations of your body after the day’s events.

in time, the familiar white church emerged from the mist, looking ominous in the foggy weather. you swallowed, pushing through its double doors, a thick, eerie silence muffling any sound in chapel except for your footsteps.

quickly, you descended down the stairs, and strode down the hallway, opening the doors to the meeting room and making a beeline for your box of costumes. Simon’s had already been taken, you noted, assuming he had made early headway back to the church for the materials. with a shiver, you carefully laid out each costume over one another into the box and snapped the lid shut, shivering violently from that draft that passed through the basement as you picked up the box and turned when—

“cold?”

you screamed. a real, long scream ripped from your throat as you scrambled backwards and crashed into a chair, dropping your box that split in half, its contents spilling out over the floor again. you tumbled to the floor, and once the world stopped spinning, you groaned out, forehead against the carpet.

“what the fuck, Simon,” you hissed, pushing yourself slowly off the ground. Simon, remasked, was already half-way to you, holding out a tentative hand that clenched and unclenched in the open air.

you just held up a hand. “don’t.”

he nodded, straightening, before edging closer to you with an open palm. 

you sighed out, taking his outstretched hand and letting him pull you to your feet. you rubbed at your shoulder that had slammed against a chair in your fall.

“are you alright?” he asked slowly, voice thick and rough, and you just let out a tight laugh.

“m’fine. don’t worry,” you said, stooping down to pick up the costumes, wincing at the new soreness of your body.

Simon immediately pushed away your hands, crouching down to lay the costumes in your box, so you moved to right the chairs again. but he was over in a flash, doing it for you. 

huffing with frustration, you chided him, “Simon.”

but he ignored you, standing up two other chairs before moving back to the halloween costumes strewn over the floor, careful with each one.

“you have really got to stop scaring me like that,” you grumbled, watching him put the lid back on the box, snapping down the sides.

he paused, stock still a moment. when he didn’t respond, and didn’t even move, you stared at the back of his head with a new confusion.

“Simon—?”

“sorry,” he said under his breath, still not moving.

you blinked, shifting closer to him, and edged around so you could see the eerily blank expression on his face as he stared forward on an untrained point.

you dropped to a crouch beside him. “is everything alright—?”

“i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

you stared at the side of his face, your jaw dropping with dismay, then closing again. “it’s okay. you didn’t mean to scare me.”

he shook his head, dark eyes finally moving over to hold your gaze. “i meant yesterday.”

with that, you flushed. “oh.”

he meant last night.

“i shouldn’t have said all that stuff,” he grumbled, avoiding your gaze now.

his words were sharp. “just forget that i said anything.”

a cutting ache speared your chest. forget everything he said?

“you didn’t mean it?” you squeaked, unsure what to say. 

he stood, taking your box with him. you straightened slowly, taking the box from his hands. his eyes were on yours but you felt like he was looking straight through you.

“yeah. none of it.”

weakly, you nodded, your whole body feeling heavy as you left the meeting room. a murky, damp feeling weighed down your chest. 

you both walked out the church in silence, Simon just a step behind you, and the mist against your skin enveloped you in a bone-chilling suffocation.

you were hyper aware of Simon’s gaze on you as he watched you pop open your trunk and shove the box of costumes inside. closing it, you turned to him, his own box of costumes in his hands. you would’ve laughed at the sight, such a big, burly military man and his own box of sewn items, the pink, hello kitty pouch stacked on top the lid, but the laughter couldn’t find you through the mist.

you don’t need a ride? you had offered, but he had just shook his head, half-turning from you as he jerked his head down the road. s’just a fifteen minute walk.

you had grimaced, pressing, but what if it starts raining?

he had just shrugged. don’t worry about me.

then you had said goodbye, watching him walk away and into the mist. the problem was, whether or not you chose it, half of you had started worrying for him all the time.

you slid into your car, letting the heavy feeling consume you. turning on the ignition, your grip tight on the steering wheel, you bit back tears when the first drops of rain fell onto your windshield. you flicked on the fog lights and backed up out of the parking lot, pulling onto the road, rain coming down quicker now. by the time you reached your townhouse, which was just a block away, it was pelting, and the tears were streaming down your face.

you clutched at your chest, rubbing circles over it like Simon taught you. it didn’t seem to work nearly as much as when you were in his arms. the strong warmth of him pressed into you. his soft words by your ear.

leaning forward in your seat, your forehead came to rest against the horn of the steering wheel, uncaring for your tears that ran down the leather and the loud blare that cut through the evening, hoping the downpour would drown out the sound.

yeah. poor simon's walking home through the rain. he's probably crying too 😇

next part coming very soon you guys!!! happy halloweenings!!! (my senior halloween day is this thursday..... my friends and i are going as 2010 justin bieber and bringing selena gomez cardboard cutouts bc i think that's hilarious)

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[devil-in-hiding]

✨Hello✨ I have been loving your on the run series! I couldn’t help but imagining what farmer!reader does for her income. Like maybe she has money from the divorce or something. But I thought that maybe she has some berry bushes on her farm, and she’ll make jam and sells it at a farmers market every once in a while. The boys want to help, of course, and she lets them… only to realize her mistake halfway through, when she has to yell at them to stop eating the jam

Simon and Johnny would probably be the worst with it, but I also imagine Kyle sneakily eating all the berries

Hope you’re having a wonderful day!!

okay thank you so much for this ask because YES i didn’t even THINK BUT THIS IS ADORABLE

hauling berries all day, going to take a nice shower to cool off and get started on your process

just to find them knocked out like bears, covered in berry juice and you just stand there like “i am actually going to wrangle your necks, all of you”

[kaliforniahigh]

I need some best friend!Noah to lover action lol

You and Noah have been best friends for years. It's a very sweet and fluffy friendship but somewhere along the way Noah develops a crush on you. He never says anything because he doesn't want to ruin your friendship.

Noah is your rock and shoulder to cry on after it never works out with the guys you date. He knows he can treat you better but he still doesn't make a move. 🥺

One night when you're at his place watching anime or playing video games, he finally gets the courage to tell you how he feels and he hopes you'd give him a chance (you do obviously). And then the night ends with romantic and sweet smutty love.

Y'all love bestfriend!Noah so much and I'm so on board for this! Thank you so much for the request, hope you like it!!!

Warnings: mention of the death of an animal (it's fake), pining, smut, unprotected p in v (wrap it up, babes!), fingering (fem. receiving), a little bit of overprotective Noah. I think that's it.

WC: 3.9k

Requests are closed for now.

You're probably the best thing that has ever happened in Noah's life. He wishes he was exaggerating, but that's the way he felt about you. He has no doubt you love him as much as he loves you, he just wanted you to love him in the same way.

He doesn't remember when his feelings went from loving you as a friend to loving you as something more. But everyday he saw you, he wished he could introduce you as his girlfriend and not just his friend.

Realistically, he knew it wasn't gonna happen. You've been in a series of dates these past few months, every single one of them ended disastrously, with you crying on his shoulder and saying you were giving up on men. But then the cycle repeated itself and he was left wondering what he would do if you just gave him a chance.

He was trailing behind you at the Farmer's Market, watching you pick fresh tomatoes and putting them in your bag.

"Are you making lasagna tonight?", he asked you, looking around him aimlessly, trying to remember if he needed to pick something up for himself.

"Yes, I am", you answered, but kept picking tomatoes. He must have counted six or seven already.

"Are you feeding an army of people? Why do you need so much tomato sauce?" he finally asked you, confusion laced in his voice.

"I might have company tonight for dinner", you said, sheepishly looking at him. He felt his stomach drop. Not only did you have a date tonight, but you were making them your special lasagna recipe?

"Who is it?" he still held out hope that you would said you just invited some friends over, but he knew that wasn't the case.

"He is a friend of a friend. I've been talking to him for a few days now"

You've been talking to him for only a few days? And you were already cooking for him and inviting him inside your house? His jealousy turned into concern.

"You've met him before, right? Like, met him in real life, went out with him?" he needed to make sure you weren't inviting a complete stranger into your home.

"This is our first date, I actually haven't met him. But all my friends told me he's really nice", you told him, as if there wasn't a problem in what you're doing.

"Y/N, look at me right now", he demanded, snatching some tomatoes from your hand and putting them back in their place. "You're inviting a complete stranger that you've never met before into your house and you don't see a problem in that at al?", he waved his hand around in a exasperated manner.

"Noah, he isn't a complete stranger, my friends know him and he's been nice to me so far", you argued.

"Yeah, I bet hell is full of nice people as well", he rubbed his forehead in stress. "I know that no matter what I say, you're not cancelling this stupid date. Just make sure you have your phone close to you and if he starts acting weird, you call me", his voice was firm, and he even grabbed your shoulder for emphasis.

"I promise I'll call you", you reassured him. Your heart tugged at his concern for you.

When you became friends with Noah, you knew right away that he would be trouble for your heart. You were instantly infatuated with him, his kind eyes and funny personality. It didn't take long at all for him to capture your heart.

But only a few weeks after knowing him, he started dating someone, and you didn't even have time to shoot your shot. So you decided to will your feelings away, even if it was the hardest thing you would ever do in your life.

You watched from afar and how he interacted with his girlfriend at the time. The way he cared for her and the way he looked at her with so much adoration in his eyes. You wished that for you, and if you couldn't have that with him, you would find someone else who could provide it for you.

Ever since then, he has broken up with his girlfriend and you've been on countless failed dates. Even though he's your best friend, he kept the reason for the break up strangely vague. You always thought it was weird, but never pressed on the subject.

Him, on the other hand, kept replaying in his head the words his ex-girlfriend told him the day she broke up with him.

"In the months we've been together, you haven't been able to tell me you love me. But you don't hesitate to say it to her"

He remembers the way she reffered to you in venomous way.

"I think you're with the wrong person and it shows. Everyone can tell you're in love with her and not me"

He kept quiet, not really able to argue with that. She was right, but he wasn't going to admit that to her face. So she left and never came back. He doesn't blame her, he guesses it's cruel staying with someone who loves someone else.

He wanted to be sad about the break up, but it was evident he was more relieved than anything. You asked questions and he kept the answers vague until you dropped the subject entirely, and you never spoke of it again.

"When is he arriving at your house?", he asked you.

"I told him around 8pm. I should have plenty of time to get everything ready by then", you said as you went about picking some other ingredients you needed.

The rest of the visit to the Farmer's Market was quiet. You knew Noah was in a sour mood now compared to when you arrived, but you left him to his devices when strayed to look at some seasonings for himself. He never strayed too far from you anyway.

He dropped you off at home after you left, you told him goodbye and went up the stairs. You had a lasagna to make.

As Noah sulked on the couch, he wondered what would be the best time to head to your house. If the dude was arriving at 8pm, he should probably be there but 7:45pm at least.

Looking at the clock and seeing it was barely 3pm, he let his thoughts drift back to you once again. If it was so obvious to everyone that he was in love with you, why could you not notice it? Or did you notice it and decided to ignore it? Why were you so adamant in getting a boyfriend? Were you not happy by yourself?

He was being ridiculous, you wouldn't be alone your whole life. Eventually you would find someone, marry them and have kids, and he would be just your best friend for the rest of his life. He wondered how he could find a girlfriend, marry and have his own family if he was so hung up on you.

He decided to take a shower and have a bite to eat. Sitting around wasn't doing him any good.

You had put the lasagna in the oven and was now taking a shower to start getting ready. You weren't as excited for this date as you thought you would be. Going on dates actually got old for you a while back, so you promised yourself this would be the last one, and if it didn't work out, you wouldn't try anymore.

Even though you feeling a little down before your date even arrived, you put effort into your makeup and outfit, not going overboard since you would be staying at home after all, so you went with something casual.

You checked the food from time to time, the delicious scent filling the whole apartment as you waited.

On the way to your house, since he had a bit to spare, he picked up some hamburgers and fries. It wasn't as good as your heavenly lasagna that the prick would eat, but it had to do.

He parked a bit to the left of your apartment entrance, on the other side of the street, and settling himself in his car, he waited. As much as he wanted, he wouldn't crash your date. He just wanted to be as close as possible, just in case this dude tried anything and you actually needed to call him. If your date lasted hours, he would stay parked outside your place.

Just a little before 8pm, a sleek black sedan - a BMW, if he was being specific - parked outside your place. He buzzed the intercom and waited for you to buzz him in.

So he was also an entitled rich guy? Maybe he was a finance dude? He made a mental note to ask you later.

He could see two shadows from the window in your apartment. He looked away, not taking chances in seeing things that would only disappoint him. And he didn't even know if you kissed on the first date, but hoped not.

It was now 9pm and he had finished his burgers and fries, the wrapper thrown carelessly on the passenger seat. You must be having dinner now, right? Maybe the dude would leave by 10pm?

10pm rolled around and there were no signs of the guy leaving. He was beginning to get restless, not able to find a comfortable position on the car seat. He contemplated calling you, but two hours was a reasonable amount of time for a date, he thinks.

Thirty minutes later - yes, he was watching the clock very closely - his phone buzzed on his lap, your nickname and face flashing on his screen. He could've sworn he's never picked up a phone so fast in his life.

"Hey, is everything ok?", he said right out the gate.

"Yeah, everything's fine. It's just", you hesitated for a moment. "He doesn't wanna leave? We had dinner and we've talked plenty and I don't know how to tell him that I just want him to leave already", he could tell you didn't want to be rude. Lucky for you, he didn't have that problem.

"Where is he right now?", he asked you.

"He's in the bathroom. Can you just call me with an emergency or something? Just so I can have an excuse?", he could to that, but he was already outside your place.

"I'll just show up at your apartment. It would be more effective", he argued.

"You don't have to drive all the way here, a call is fine", you tried to convince him.

"That's not a problem at all. I'll be there soon"

"Ok then. Listen, he's leaving the bathroom. I'm waiting for you", you said hurriedly and hung up the phone.

He thought of a plan of action as his eyes settled on a bottle of water he was drinking from earlier in the day. He splashed some water on his cheeks, as well as on his eyes. Locking his car, he walked over to the entrance of your building, buzzing your apartment number.

You picked up and he got himself ready to put on his best act. Pretending to be crying, he told you through the intercom.

"Oh my god, Y/N, you're not gonna believe what just happened", he said, in a fake desperate voice.

"Noah? What is going on?", you asked, just as desperate.

"Furry, my cat, just got got ran over by a car, oh my god, I'm so devastated", he "cried" harder, trying to not to laugh at the same time.

"Oh my, that's horrible. I'll let you come up and we can talk about it", you buzzed him in and he took the stairs two at a time, arriving at your door and knocking rapidly. You opened the door and the sight before you was comical. He had "tear" stains all over his cheeks and his lips were downturned like a cartoon character. You hugged him for effect and whispered a "thank you" on his ear.

Your date stood in your living room, awkwardly watching the scene unfold before him. "Hmm, I gues I'll go? Let you deal with it?", he said as you parted from the hug and turned to look at him.

"Yeah, I think that's best. I'll text you?", you told him, trying to sound as if you were sorry your date was cut "short".

He made his way to the door, you and Noah making space for him to leave. "I'm sorry for your loss, man", he patted Noah on the shoulder, you could hear in his voice that he was truly sorry for this imaginary cat that just died. Noah only nodded in a solemn display of sadness.

"I'll buzz you out", you let him know as he was making his way to the staircase. You closed the door and you and Noah fell into a fit of giggles, both clutching your stomachs and doubling over in laughter.

"Oh my god, that was Oscar worthy", you clutched his arm, still laughing.

"What can I say? I'm truly talented", he said as he threw his imaginary hair back. You led him to sit on the couch and told him you would change into some more comfortable clothes and be right back.

You put on your sweatpants and a sweatshirt that probably belonged to Noah, but has been in your closet for such a long time that you couldn't really tell anymore. Making your back to the living room, you sat beside him, grabbing the controller for the TV and opening Netflix.

"How did you get here so fast?", you asked him as you browsed through the movies and series, trying to find something interesting to watch. When he didn't answer you, you looked at him, thinking he didn't hear you. But he was looking back at you, struggling to answer.

"I was already parked outside your building?", he was unsure of what your response would be to this information.

"You were what?", your voice wasn't angry, you were actually amused.

"When you told me you were inviting this guy to your place, I got worried. I mean, we hear stories everyday and it's scary. So I though if I was close by, and you called me saying that something happened, I would already be here"

You were at a loss for words. You couldn't believe that this man was parked outside your place, probably for hours, just because he was worried about you. You went out with guys who wouldn't pay the bill, or even pick up and drive you back to your place when you went on a date. And here Noah was, blowing your mind as per usual.

Your bar was low for a while when it came to men in general. But you reminded yourself that the person before you never let you down, he actually raised the bar so high that no other person could ever reach it.

"That's really sweet of you, thank you", you said and you were as sincere as you could be. "I'm really glad I have you looking out for me"

Noah cleared his throat, wanting to change the subject, suspecting you were just about to friendzone him.

"So how was this guy? Was the date ok?", he asked you, even though he didn't really wanna hear about it.

"He was ok. He was everything people told me about. But I guess my heart just wasn't in it?" you moved your body sideways, so you were facing him.

"Why not?"

"I guess I'm just tired of looking for the one", a big sigh left your lips at this admission.

Noah felt like this was now or never. He could fuck up your entire friendship within seconds. But he couldn't live with this anymore.

"You keep looking, but I think what you need is right before your eyes and you just never realized it", he watched as your brows furrowed.

"What do you mean?"

"I could make you the happiest girl in the world and you keep going out with these guys who won't even bother to know the first thing about you"

Silence fell upon you after he said this. The reality of his words sunk into you. You knew Noah could make you the happiest girl, and he already did, but you never imagined he would ever mean it in a romantic way. He could sense your confusion.

"Why do you think my last relationship ended?", he questioned you.

"Because you were on the road a lot and it didn't work out? That's what you told me"

"It was because she could tell I was so in love with you that I didn't have space in my heart for anyone else. So she left me"

You were shocked by his revelation.

"You're in love with me?" your voice was dazed, not actually believing the words falling from his lips.

"For someone so smart, you're such a silly girl at times", he teased you, not wanting to think about the fact that you could let him down any second now.

"Noah, you have no idea how long I've wanted to hear this", your eyes were misty with tears as he leaned closer.

"And I've been wanting to tell you this for a long time. I'm sorry I let you go out with these fools for this long"

You stayed gazing into each others eyes, his hand came up to your face and started stroking your cheek. You scootched yourself closer to him, your faces only inches apart.

"Noah", you whispered to him and he hummed, too entranced with you this close to give a verbal answer. "Kiss me, please", you didn't ask, rather demanded, and you didn't need to say it twice. His lips landed on yours firmly, and he clutched the back of your neck to press your faces together. There was an urgency in the kiss as you moved in the pace he set.

Opening your mouth, you gave him permission to slip his tongue past your lips, making the kiss even more heated. Soon, your presence beside him wasn't enough and you made a move to climb onto his lap, but hesitated halfway, unsure of how far he wanted to take this.

But his hands landing on your thighs told you everything you needed to know, as you swung a leg over his, both knees resting on the couch. Your breath was picking up and so was his, and you parted to let some air into your lungs.

"You feel so much better than I thought", Noah told you, while his hands ran up and down your thighs. You looked into his eyes and saw they were clouded over with lust and want. Reaching for his hands, you slid them a little higher until they rested on your ass.

"I need you", your voice was breathless and you settled your core over his crotch, feeling his hard erection under you. He hissed and squeezed your ass tight.

"Are you sure? We don't have to do this right now", he tried to reassure you, he was happy just kissing and making out on the couch.

"Please, I haven't been fucked in so long", you pleaded with him with a whine, rolling your hips over his to get your point across. His eyes closed and he threw his head back at the feeling.

"Let's take these clothes off, then", his hands made quick work of your - his - sweatshirt, leaving your top bare for him. His hands were everywhere, your sides, your stomach, your breasts and finally rested on your neck, a thumb reaching to swipe over your lips.

Your hands reacher for the hem of his tank top, pulling it over his head. You lowered your head and began giving him kisses all over his chest, hands running over every inch of skin you could find.

"You're so sweet for me. Can't wait to be inside you, bet you'd feel so good around me", he said in your ear, your head spinning from his dirty words. You got up from his lap and slid your sweatpants and underwear down your legs, and he did the same with his jeans and boxers, and you situated yourself on his lap again.

His hand slid between your legs, feeling how wet you are for him. His fingers felt so good over you and you couldn't help but start to move your hips in circles, gasps of pleasure leaving your mouth.

"I need your fingers, please", you told him, wanting to feel the fingers you fantasized about iniside you. He couldn't deny your plea, he slid one first and then another, finding no resistance at all. He moved his fingers back and forth, curling inside you and hitting all the right spots.

Your hips moved with him and he couldn't take his eyes off of you, or the way his long fingers disappeared inside you, your wetness starting to drip down your thighs. He pulled them out, not wanting to wait any longer to feel you wrapped around him.

Positioning your entrance over his hard cock, you started to sink down, making it halfway until you had to stop for a moment, having to adjust to his size.

"It's ok, baby, we follow your pace, go slow, get used to it", he told you, hands going to your back in a soothing motion. You felt it burn a little, but the sensation was dizzying, and you couldn't wait to feel all of him. So you resumed your movements and after a few seconds, he bottomed out and you swear you've never felt do full in your life.

"It feels so good", you whined.

"I know, baby, you also feel incredible, so thight around me it's driving me crazy", you mewled at his words, his praises.

You slowly started to move up and down, waiting until he was almost all the way out to bounce back. His grip was impossibly tight on your hips, helping you along.

Your legs started to give out under you, both from tiredness and pleasure. He noticed this, as he slid down the couch a little, hips working to fuck into you at an impossibly fast pace, your head dropping to rest on his chest, the moans coming freely out of your mouth now.

"I'm so close, please don't stop", you told him, voice strained, mixed with your sounds of pleasure.

"Me too, baby. C'mon, cum with me, cum all over my dick", his words sent you over the edge as you convulsed above him, hearing his grunts in your ears as a warm sensation filled your insides.

You both stayed there for a while, catching your breaths, bodies going limp on the couch. When you lifted your head from his chest to look at him, he had such a fucked out look on his face.

You reached for his hair that got in his face, pushing it back, his half lidded eyes looking at you.

"We should probably take a shower", you told him, voice low as to not disrupt the moment.

"We should, but I just wanna stay here a little longer", his hand stroked over your own hair, cupping your face and pulling you to lay down on his chest again, both of your bare bodies feeling every inch of each other.

You hummed in satisfaction, eyes closing and reveling in the feeling of him so close to you.

[springtyme]

Hiii can we get some dating Richie headcanons :)

𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞 𝐉𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐡 ♡

We certainly can! Thank you for the request, I love this disaster of a man so much! I had so much fun with this and I'm so excited for season two 💕 I also couldn't contain myself and made a Richie playlist

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Richie had almost given up on love before he met you. Almost.

After a series of failed dates and a couple of meaningless hookups it had seemed to him like love just wasn’t in the cards for him anymore. But then you had come along to prove him wrong. 

Despite how he might come off to some, Richie is definitely a lover boy. Putting himself ‘out there’ after his split with Tiff had been hard, but he knew that he deep down, in the essential core of his being, desperately craved to have someone to share his life with. 

Someone to come home to and share the little moments with. Someone to rant to about how Carmy had been acting like little bitch about the new dishtowels, or how another building downtown has been torn down to be turned into another fucking nightmarish cement parking house. Someone who he could have a laugh with and who would give him a chance to rise above the label of deadbeat loser that the universe seems to have put on him. Someone who could see him for who he truly is. Someone who wouldn’t judge him or think less of him for having sold a little coke from a back alley in a desperate situation. 

Richie will do anything for the people he cares for, so what if his methods are a little unorthodox? He is loyal to the bone and he cares, he fucking cares.      

And that is all he wants, someone to care for. Someone to love and someone to love him. That was all that he dreamed of before, but he had started to lose hope.

But then, when he finally had started to come to terms with the idea that that might never happen, he met you. 

It had all started with a slightly awkward date. He had been quite nervous, way more than he normally was. You just seemed too good to be true, way too good for someone like him anyway. He wanted to give off a good impression so bad that it slightly backfired, or it maybe would have backfired if you weren't you. 

He had been loud and acting confident in a way only a man who’s trying to hide how nervous he actually is can. He had been accidently laughing at his own jokes before the punchline had even landed and stumbling over his own words from time to time, but luckily for him you had found it rather charming. You couldn’t keep the wide smile from spreading on your face as he started rambling about Bill Murray and some old roman goddess. 

He had visibly relaxed after you had declared with a smile that you probably had to give him a call one of these days so you could hear the voicemail from the story, but that you certainly wouldn’t mind if he just happened to pick up the phone.   

He did pick up the phone when you called, and you were not disappointed in the slightest that it was Richie’s voice and not Bill Murray’s that had greeted you.

That first date turned into another, which turned into yet another one and no matter how scared he was that you would suddenly realize how much of a shitshow his life truly is he just didn’t seem to be able to scare you off.  

He’ll be your number one cheerleader, always so proud of you, and he will tell everybody who lets him about you. And he loves to show you off. You are in his opinion way out of his league and he is just so damn proud to have someone as amazing and beautiful as you to call his and to love.

He loves taking pictures of you. Just silly little pictures, you picking up produce at the farmers market or silly little selfies of the two of you as you wait in line at Arby's. He just wants to remember all the nice little moments with you.

He’ll proudly flaunt you on his instagram for all his 36 followers to see (well, 37 now that you follow him)

You will usually try and match your lunch break at work to fit with family at the restaurant. Stepping into the restaurant to be met with a huge smile from Richie is one of the highlights of your day. The staff of the beef are essentially family to him and he is so happy to share you with them. You have become part of that little family and it is more than Richie could ever have dreamt of.

Neither of you are in a rush with your relationship. He is a divorcee with a daughter and you have never had any wild dreams about a wedding or an on paper ‘picture perfect’ relationship with a house and a white picket fence. You just want someone who loves you for exactly who you are and that someone is Richie.

It is about a year into your relationship that you say ‘I love you’ the first time you don’t know if it is late or not but one thing for sure is that the love had been there from early on.

It was four months into your relationship that he had asked you if you would like to meet his daughter and honestly that had been a bigger confession of love than anything else could have been. He loves his daughter more than anything in the world and you know that he would never bring up introducing you to her if it wasn’t because he was serious about you and wanted you as a permanent part of his life.  

You had been a little nervous to meet her, you know how much she means to Richie and you had just really wanted her to like you. You had, however, not been the slightest bit nervous about how you would feel about her, she’s Richie’s little girl after all, a part of him, and you love every part of him. 

Luckily for you, she absolutely adores you, and you adore her. It had meant everything for Richie to know that his baby girl and you were getting along so well. 

It had been on that same night as you had uttered your first ‘I love you’s’ that he had asked you if you wanted to move in together. He had been so happy when you had kissed a ‘yes’ into his lips. 

Living together is everything Richie could ever have dreamt of. Not waking up to an empty bed and knowing that you are at home waiting on him when he comes home from work is like a dream come true.   

He is an early riser, usually you wake up to an empty bed, and even though you sometimes wish you woke up to warm, morning-cuddles it is always made up for by the sight of Richie in the kitchen. He is usually only wearing one of his, seemingly never ending supply of, ‘The Beef’ shirts and a pair of boxers.

His back will be turned to you as he’s in the midst of getting your coffee ready for you. It has become a fixture in your life with Richie, something you wouldn’t give up, even for all the morning-cuddles in the world.

You will sneak up on him and let your arms sneak around him, hugging him tight from behind and he will lean softly back into your embrace.

If he is having a smoke you will pluck the cigarette from his lips and take a few drags as you squish your cheek into his back and slowly let the comforting smell of brewing coffee wake you up. When the cigarette is smoked and ashed into the sink to later be thrown into the ashtray, Richie will turn around, engulfing you in his long, lean arms and press a gentle kiss to your forehead, kissing a ‘good morning’ into your still sleep-warm skin. 

Your relationship with Richie is warm and loving. It doesn’t mean that it is constant smooth sailing, but you always work through the bumps you come across along the road together. That is the true beauty of your relationship with him, the constant reassuring feeling of togetherness.

You are in his life to stay, you are family now and Richie will do anything to keep you happy and by his side.

[kirimoochi]

happy birthday darling!

₊˚ ᗢ modern au! alhaitham & kazuha (separate) x gn! reader.

⤷ kiri's self-birthday gift!

spending your birthday with alhaitham will be one of the most calming yet memorable experiences in your life.

he doesn’t surprise you with grand gestures, only showing up to your workplace to drop off flowers and a small gift in the morning (he had them personally reviewed and recommended by his friend tighnari, whom you cannot thank enough). it was signed with his name and a heart. your coworkers shower you with compliments and giggles, they can only imagine what kind of man he is. 

to alhaitham, a birthday is never ordinary. growing up with his grandmother, he has learned that with each passing year, you must appreciate it. savor it, even. because as you get older, things change, and he wants you to have the right to a peaceful life. maybe this is just his way of saying: i want to get old with you and live together (without kaveh, preferably, or maybe, only if you want a marriage counselor).

after you leave work, he’ll take you to your favorite restaurant. he knows he might not be the best cook in the world, so he’d rather not take his chances and instead enjoy a meal without the house burning. he’ll come out of his car with the same sweater he knows you’ll love. he’ll open the passenger door for you. not without a kiss on the back of your hand, of course. and he’ll tell you how much he loves to hear you laugh. it’s one of those things he’ll never get sick of.

at the end of your dinner, when he takes you home, he’ll turn on the lights and reveal a small handful of your friends crowded around your dinner table. your favorite cake settled at the center with colorful candles. they gathered around, passing gifts to you, all while you blew the candle and made a very special wish. one that you made as you looked fondly at your boyfriend. 

perhaps it was something about your future. the thought makes alhaitham a little curious. and he kisses the back of your ear, whispering to you to spill about your wish. you gently smack him on the shoulder. with a roll of your eyes, you remind him that if you tell him your wish, it might not come true.

after they leave, you’re left alone with alhaitham. tucked beneath his arm on the couch, he gives you another kiss on your temple. there is one more gift he has left for you. and it's not him reading one of your favorite books before bed. 

with another kiss, he shows you a small box. it is filled to the brim with various trinkets, all that reminds him of you. some were keychains from your favorite show or series. others were stickers or anything small he could get his hands on whenever he traveled. but most importantly there were flowers that he had given you in the past that have now been dried and pressed, kept perfectly sealed in a resin necklace. 

he’s a quiet yet sentimental man. you knew this to be true. so this gift isn’t all too surprising. but it makes your heart leap into your throat, and you wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him into a very, passionate kiss. 

“happy birthday darling,” he smiles, squeezing you close to his heart.

spending your birthday with kazuha would be exciting and thrilling, with the wind on your cheek, you'll experience a world full of fun.

he’ll stay in the morning with you, lazily kissing you as you stir from your slumber. he’ll recite some of his poems. a few that he rehearsed and practiced the other night, trying to make sure they don’t come out jumbled. but in your half-asleep state, you could only make out a few of those words. and yet you pull him into your arms, squeezing him as tight as you can as you try to wear off the tiredness. he can only laugh with that beautiful voice of his, kissing you once more on the forehead as you go back to sleep.

he had the whole day planned for you. he’ll take you to a farmer’s market so you can try out a variety of local foods. walking hand in hand as you pass by every stall you come across as interesting. you’ll learn from this experience that he does not like pepperjack cheese, and the sour expression on his face was enough to tell you he wants to spit it out. 

behind your back, he bought a very special bracelet. he made sure you weren’t around to see what he wanted engraved on it. he was especially careful as you were not one to simply roam off. but when it was finished, he was sighing a breath of relief as he saw the final product. tucking it deep into his pocket, he smiled and waved to the vendor, thanking them for their hard work.

he’ll come back to meet you, squeezing your hand as he takes you to your next location: a museum. this museum could be anything ranging from art to exotic exhibits. he loved seeing the sparkle in your eyes as you read through each magazine, brochure, and infographic you came across. it seemed like your curiosity couldn’t get any brighter as he saw you tug him into the next room, a beaming smile sending his heart into cardiac arrest.

he’s happy that at the end of the museum, you and he got to have pennies pressed into cute designs. yours was from your favorite painting, while he was… charming to say the least!

regardless, he finishes the day off at the park. he laid out a blanket and took out a small cake, lighting up a candle with a match as he sang you happy birthday. the song is quite beautiful, but nothing could ever compare to the loving gaze that he has for you.

this is when he takes out the bracelet, tying it around your wrist as you admire it underneath the moonlight. it was a mix between your favorite color and his. it had a symbol of a maple leaf and your constellation. it was one of the best things you’ve gotten today, and you cannot hold back your excitement as you pull him into a kiss. 

with notes of sweetness and cream, he pulls away to grin, “happy birthday songbird.”