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from-the-clouds · 1 year

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texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. xiv

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter | chapter summary: The final chapter pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 9.2k (I love being insane) chapter warnings: SMUT (18+only) - unprotected sex. Insecurity/Jealousy. Angst/arguments. Discussions of death, blood and injuries. Alcohol & Marijuana use. Fluff. Bisexual reader (happy pride ya'll!). As always please dm for more specifics. a/n: This could probs use another round of proofreading but it would've delayed this even longer sooooo.... Here we go! I feel pretty emo right now and I might make a more in-depth post about my thoughts at a later date bc I just finished writing this in a hot daze so I can't put all my thoughts coherently together. But I just wanna say thank you to everyone who supported and gave love to this story. This is by far the most popular fic I've ever written, and I don't really know how? Or what I did to deserve all the love but I just want you to know how much I appreciate it. Thank you for sticking with me through all the angst and delayed updates and everything. I'll never forget you and I'll never forget Joel x Reader!! Thank you so much, I hope the finale lives up to your expectations! ❤️

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I’m not the kind of man who tends to socialize I seem to lean on old familiar ways….

-May 16, 2024-

“Are you sure you’re okay if I leave you here alone?”

Ethan’s voice jolts you out of a daze, and you blink your eyes open, realizing that you’d dozed off while sitting upright in a patio chair, the cheesy romance novel you’d been reading still lying open on your lap. Turning to look over your shoulder, you find him standing with one foot on the deck, and one foot still inside, cut in half by the sliding glass door.

Clearing your throat, you straighten up and nod. “Of course. I’ll be fine.”

Ethan studies you carefully, like he’s not entirely convinced. He’s been hesitant to leave you alone unless it’s absolutely necessary – only stepping away from the house to go on patrol shifts and to bring home meals from the mess hall. Recovery has made you feel like a burden to him – to all your friends in the community, really. Everyone….well, almost everyone, has been supportive, but you’ve never been comfortable being openly vulnerable.

Unfortunately, it’s too hard to deny the pain that you’ve been in since the accident, the trouble you have getting around, the exhaustion that clings no matter how many long naps and twelve-hour nights of sleep you get. According to the doctors, being so tired is just part of recovery – rest is important, but the concoction of pain medication you’ve been prescribed only makes your drowsiness and confusion worse. It had been a big deal that tonight you’d mustered the energy to drag yourself outside to sit in the fresh air.

“I’m fine,” you assure Ethan, once again. “Have fun on your date.”

“It’s not really a date,” he says, almost a little too quickly. “We’re just hanging out.”

“Right,” you say, matter-of-factly. “Do I know who this person is?”

Ethan looks at his feet. “You remember the day this shit happened?” he asks, gesturing towards you. “Before you left on patrol, the girl that said hi to me? It’s her. Her name is Alex.”

“Oh?” you tilt your head, give him a small smile. “She was cute. How’d you ask her out?”

“Well,” he begins, scratching the back of his neck. “I may have…uh, gotten some advice.”

“You didn’t think to ask me?” you’re able to muster up a small smile.

“I would’ve, I just…..” he shakes his head. “It seemed stupid…with everything you have going on.”

“It’s not stupid,” you say, feeling a wave of guilt. Even though he’s the one looking after you, you haven’t spoken to him much about anything going on in his life. In fact, you haven’t really spoken to anyone in a long time, beyond thank you’s and blanket statements like I’m doing better. You feel disconnected, and more lonely than ever. If you ever get enough energy to leave your house, you expect most of the people in the community to have forgotten you exist. “Who’d you ask?”

“Uhm….” Ethan runs a hand through his long dark hair, shifts his weight. “….I’ve been assigned on patrol with Joel Miller a lot lately….so….”

You almost laugh when he uses Joel’s full name. Joel has been such a huge part of your life – sometimes the hero, sometimes the villain – that you don’t need to hear his last name to know who Ethan’s talking about. You could know a thousand Joel’s, and he’d still be the first person that came to mind. But Joel is still a sore subject, and Ethan knows it, which is why you suspect he’s avoided telling you this in the first place. You feel your eyebrows knit together, only able to let out an unenthused. “Oh.”

“I just, you know….he’s a guy. And it sounds like you even liked him at one point so….he must know something, right?”

“That was a long time ago,” you say quickly, regardless of the fact that he’s right.

It’s probably not fair to blame Joel for everything that has happened to you. You know this, deep down. But you’ve been so helpless and isolated since you’ve woken up in that hospital bed that you’re desperate to find someone to hold accountable. And Joel hadn’t visited you in the hospital once. By this point, he’s abandoned you so many times that your resentment feels justified, even if your current state is not directly his fault. Because it was you, after all, who had walked into the path of those men, too angry to think clearly, too weak to take them down alone. The only person you can blame is yourself, and you really don’t want to.

“Did he tell you to take her out on patrol, make her cry, and almost get her killed?”

Ethan clicks his tongue, looks down, almost ashamed. “No. He did not.”

“You should be careful with Joel,” you warn.

“I was…” Ethan says. “But I don’t think it’s that simple. I think he’s actually alright.”

“So you’re friends with him now,” you state, hoping he refutes. But instead, he looks up at you, frowns, and lifts his chin.

“What happened to you was horrible. It shouldn’t have happened. And yeah, maybe you think he’s the reason you almost died…. I don’t know the specifics so you can believe whatever you want. But I know that he’s the reason you’re still alive.” Ethan’s voice breaks, and you feel tears brimming your eyes before he continues. “He brought you back here, he donated his blood, he-”

“What?” you cut him off.

“What do you mean, what?” Ethan asks. “He was the only person there who had your blood type. You would’ve died if he didn’t. They didn’t tell you this?”

“Whatever it took to make him feel less guilty, sounds like,” you say, dismissively.

Something hot burns in your veins, something that must have always been there since you woke up, but you’re only feeling it now. It’s unsettling, Joel being a part of you that way. Your lives had already seemed intertwined enough already. But now, he’s inescapable.

“Well, he stayed by your side every night while you were asleep. Fuck, I mean, he was probably there just as often as I was. He made sure I ate, and slept and showered and… and he never once asked for anything in return. He cares about you as much as I do, clearly, so I don’t think it’s wrong to think he’s a good guy….”

You must not care about me that much, you want to say, but you stop yourself. Because it’s not true, and you’d only be saying it to hurt him. You have nothing to defend yourself with, no way to convince him otherwise, and so you just stare at him until he shakes his head and slips back inside.

Ethan is stubborn, he always has been. And it’s a special kind of stubbornness, fueled by anger – so common in most of the young people you meet these days. You understand why they’re all like this. When you’re robbed of your childhood – you get stuck there….waiting….. Like someday you’ll have a chance to do it all over again, regardless of how obvious it is that you won’t.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-May 25, 2024-

Things get better, albeit slowly. You begin to wean off the pain medication, which makes you more alert. It’s still difficult to leave your house, but you can move around it more easily, and you don’t spend all your days sleeping. Luckily, you aren’t as stir-crazy as you’d been expecting.

One afternoon, Ellie Williams shows up on your doorstep with a bag full of groceries.

“Maria wanted me to bring these to you,” she says when you open the door. “She told me to tell you she’ll be over tomorrow, but she wanted me to give you these to tide you over.”

“That’s very nice. Thank you for bringing them to me,” you try to take the bag from her hands, but she steps back just a little, like she’s unsure if you should be carrying anything. You let your hands drop to your sides. “Would you like to come in?”

Ellie hesitates for a split second, adjusting the bag in her arms, and then nods. “Sure.”

Stepping to the side, you allow her into the home. Because of how warm it is outside, you’ve opened all the windows to let the breeze through.

“Sorry for the mess,” you say, Ellie following you into the living room. There are stacks of books and pill bottles with instructions scattered on your countertop. You haven’t swept the floors in awhile and all the hard surfaces are covered in a thin layer of dust. It’s not really that bad, but you don’t have the energy or strength to be on your feet for long – let alone to clean the house.

“I don’t mind,” Ellie says. “It’s not even that bad. I don’t know why older people worry about leaving your house messy and shit….no offense.”

“There was a time it used to matter,” you tell her. “And I see where you’re coming from, but my thing is – if you’re going to live somewhere, you should do what you can to make yourself feel comfortable.”

Ellie purses her lips, as if you’ve made a good point but she doesn’t know how to answer. Instead, you continue. “Can I get you anything? Water?”

“No, I’m okay,” she puts the bag on your kitchen counter.

“You can sit if you’d like,” you tell her. “I just need a moment to put these away.”

When you walk into your living room a few minutes later, she’s hovering near your record player, looking through the vinyls. The turntable was already in the house when you’d arrived years ago, but it was buried in the closet and broken. Ethan had managed to fix it after a little troubleshooting and scavenging for parts. Now, you both were always looking for records to bring home, and had amassed quite the eclectic collection – jazz, funk, hip-hop, and everything in between.

“Wow,” Ellie says, running her fingers along the shelved records. “You found all these?”

“Some of them were already here. But yeah. Ethan and I are always on the lookout on patrol. I can play you something. What do you like?”

“Eighties, I think,” she says. “But…I also haven’t heard as much.”

“Well here,” you thumb through the records, pull out a worn copy of Speaking In Tongues. “How about some Talking Heads?”

You pass the record over to her, and she stares at you blankly. It’s only then that you realize — she’s never used a record player before. There’s a familiar pang of sadness before you show her how.

“Are you feeling better?” Ellie eyes you wearily once the music starts, and you settle onto the couch, feeling a little worn out after being on your feet.

“Yes,” you say. “I’m older now, so it seems like healing takes a lot more time.”

Ellie nods, then bobs her head to the music a little. “This is better than most of the stuff Joel likes.”

“Oh yeah,” you smirk, and instinctually, you recall his enthusiasm for all things old-school country. “I remember that,” you say softly.

With so much time on your hands lately, you’ve found yourself thinking of Joel a lot, reminiscing on the time you’d spent with him and Sarah. What Ethan had told you about him staying by your side was definitely making you reconsider your assessment of him, even if you were still hesitant. It was probably a trap to think you’d ever be able to feel those things with him again, but if remembering them brought you comfort, you weren’t going to resist it.

“You’re more than welcome to come over to listen anytime,” you offer, and she nods excitedly.

Ellie stays for longer than you expect. You talk a fair bit. She tells you about what she’s learning in school – but mostly how ‘fucking useless’ it is. She wanders around your living room and pokes through your stuff without asking, but you don’t think to stop her – you just answer her questions and let her be curious.

Eventually, the sun dips below the horizon, and she excuses herself to go home, insisting that Joel will ‘fucking kill her’ if she’s out too late. Even though you’re exhausted after entertaining her for a few hours, you find it feels nice. Being on house arrest, essentially, had left your starved for connection outside Maria and Ethan.

You see her out the door before returning to your refrigerator to look for something to eat. Ethan will be back from patrol any minute, so it may be nice to make him something even if you have almost no energy.

But when there’s another knock on your front door, you’re shocked to see who you find staring on your porch.

Joel.

You almost forget to speak at the sight of him. It’s been weeks since your accident and he might as well have moved away from Jackson since you hadn’t seen him at all.

“Hey,” you say, tentatively, taking him in. He seems preoccupied – cheeks flushed, hair rumpled, and out of breath, like he had run all the way to get here.

“Have you seen Ellie?” he asks, not even greeting you in return. “I’ve looked everywhere and I-

“You just missed her,” you cut him off, not because you’re trying to dismiss him, but because he's clearly distressed. “I’m surprised you didn’t see her on your way over.”

Joel sighs, eyes closing in relief. “Thank God.” For a second, you glimpse the frazzled and overworked father you used to know. “She stayed out too late, had me worried sick.”

“She’s fine,” you say. “Although she did say you might kill her if she didn’t get home soon.”

Joel gives you an almost imperceptible smile, but seems mostly irritated by Ellie’s suggestion. “I would do no such thing.” He shakes his head and takes two steps backwards. “Thank you. Didn’t mean to be a bother.”

Your mind floats to a memory of Joel on your front porch, late getting home from work and looking for Sarah, and you can’t help but feel a bit of sadness and longing for a simpler time, a surge of affection.

Joel is halfway down your front porch steps when you speak again. “You aren’t bothering me.”

He pauses, turns to look over his shoulder. There’s something he wants to say, you can feel it, and you step outside, letting the door fall shut behind you and remaining huddled against the siding, and he turns to face you fully, sighing. “I’ve been meaning to stop by, actually….”

“Oh…really?” you can’t keep the surprise from your voice, and he notices.

“Yeah,” Joel rubs his fingers together, a nervous habit of his you know all too well. “Yeah. I- well, I wanted to apologize to you.”

You’re so startled by the words you can’t answer right away. But the split second of hesitation causes Joel to continue, looking to fill the empty space.

“I’ve been waiting to find the right thing to say….but it doesn’t seem like that’ll ever happen. I’m not even sure I know where to start.”

“Oh,” is all you can manage, still taken aback. The only thing that doesn’t surprise you about his admission is the sincerity. You could say a lot of things about Joel, but he isn’t a liar. He always tells the truth. Maybe it’s why he pulled away from you to begin with. It’s easier than the alternative – spending time with you, which would force him to be honest. For how much you’ve changed, you’d probably do the same.

But the thing with Joel is that you’re exhausted. You’re tired of the back and forth, of the push and pull, of the constant struggle to hold your care over each other's head, hoping the other will break first. Maybe this is a fresh start.

You step closer to him, and you see him study the way you move. Of course, you’re trying to look strong, but he can surely sense the weakness. He’d always been good at that, better than any of the others. Your hand comes to rest on the porch railing for support.

But…..

There’s that voice in the back of your head, the one that tells you this is a mistake. The one that reminds of the pain you’ve often earned through vulnerability. It likes to think it’s served you, protected you, and it has. But it’s not always right.

“I suppose I owe you an apology, too,” you say. “At the very least I should thank you for what you did.”

Joel shakes his head, dismissively, but looks to where your hand rests on the porch railing, looks back up to you as he reaches out. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

His hand clasps over yours, and to anyone else, this might be nothing. It’s so innocent, unassuming. But the effect it has on you is palpable. He squeezes once, and you flip your hand over, squeezing his back, giving him a gentle smile. “I am too.”

Joel’s eyes fill with a warmth you haven’t seen in twenty years, and your stomach flutters, your heart races. A part of yourself that you’d considered long dead seems to rouse.“Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“I told Ellie we’d go to the mess hall together,” Joel says. “Otherwise I would.”

You blink once, and Joel sees it, immediately continuing on. “But maybe Ellie and I can come another time, join you and Ethan?”

“Yeah. He’d like that,” you say. “That might be nice.” ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-June 20, 2024-

You think that at the end of a long winter, bears must hate coming out of hibernation.

It must suck. They spend months sleeping, doing almost nothing, and then suddenly they’re forced to function again – to hunt, to eat, to roam, to survive and socialize. You imagine there has to be a learning curve, a desire to crawl back into their den and never leave again.

Or maybe you could be wrong, and they love it. And you’re just a wimp who hates feeling uncomfortable.

All you know is that you’re huddled in the back corner of the Tipsy Bison, nursing a whiskey – and it’s the last place you want to be.

You’re overwhelmed.

And despite the fact that you regularly used to attend community events, it’s been so long since you've been out in Jackson that you feel like you don’t belong. To some extent, you’ve always felt this – too hardened by the outside world to fully assimilate, especially when the town throws dances. But in the past, you at least attempted to convince yourself otherwise.

Two weeks back, the doctors had cleared you to go about your daily activities as normal – within reason, of course – but you hadn’t exactly jumped at the opportunity. Tonight, Ethan had accused you of becoming ‘antisocial’ and ‘reclusive’. You had agreed to attend – but only to beat those allegations. So far, you are definitely not.

You scan the crowd, taking in the people spinning around the dance floor. Some of the women are wearing dresses. You can’t help but feel a little envious of how easily they’re able to perform femininity, which is something you’d given up on a while ago. It hadn’t exactly served you before arriving in Jackson, and you predict it would be humiliating to start trying now. After all the things you’d experienced, you were left marred with scars and wrinkles, stretch marks and loose skin. Since then, you’ve remained loyal to the combination of men’s denim and tank tops with flannel-button downs overtop.

It doesn’t always stop the men in the community from descending like vultures. You might be the last pick – there are plenty others who are younger and prettier – but you’re still an option. Bea, your old partner, had always theorized that some men were particularly drawn to sapphic women, that it was ‘the ultimate challenge’. Maybe there is some truth to her theory, but you like men….sometimes. So there is always a part of you that yearns for their validation, for as many times as you tell yourself you don’t want it. But it never feels good to get it after you’ve watched them exhaust all their other options.

It’s pathetic, but it makes you think of Joel. He and Ellie had been over to yours and Ethans last week for a nice dinner, and you had tried to gauge whether there was any romantic connection between you still. Occasionally, you’d caught him looking at you with a wistful smile, but he could have been lost in thought. It’s not like you needed that from him or anything, but it might be useful information. After all this time, Joel is still so handsome, and probably has an impressive selection of potential partners here in Jackson – women of all ages. You hope he’s not here tonight – you can’t see much besides the dance floor at this point – because the thought of him cozied up to anyone here, combined with the acrid taste of the drink in your hand, makes you want to gag.

You take another look around the room. Eugene, your partner in crime – quite literally – is walking towards you, which helps quell your spiraling mind . If you talk to him, say hello to Tommy and Maria, maybe Ethan will see the effort you’re making and you can sneak out without having to deal with anyone. It’s wishful thinking, but it’s worth a shot. The sooner you can get home tonight, the better.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel can’t stop staring.

He knows it’s impolite. He knows that he’s not being subtle. He knows that if any other person in this bar followed his eyeline, they’d pick up on what he was doing in an instant. But every minute he doesn’t get called out for it, he becomes more and more emboldened.

It’s the first dance he’s ever been to in Jackson, and the only reason he’s here is to placate Ellie and Tommy. But even they have abandoned him in favor of better companions – his brother is deep in conversation with Maria, sitting across from him in a booth, and Ellie is out on the dance floor dancing with one of her new friends, Dina.

Joel just can’t help himself. He still feels guilty for what he’s done, but he can’t shake the feeling of a soft hand clasped within his own – the first time he’d felt any semblance of hope since arriving here. Tommy and Maria had already slyly let him know about all the women who were interested, but he couldn’t bring himself to entertain their advances. There’s only one he wants, and she won’t even look in his direction.

When he’d first noticed you, you were whispering with Eugene on the opposite side of the dance floor. According to Tommy, you spend a fair bit of your time with the old man, which Joel initially thought to mean that you had some sort of entanglement. At first, Joel thought that couldn’t be possible. But you were deep in focus as you listened to Eugene’s words, nodding and leaning in closer and closer, and Joel thinks Tommy might be right. He wants to understand what you see in this man – tall and unkempt, covered in tattoos with long, graying hair and a beard to match. But Joel catches himself in his judgment, he’s probably just as unappealing – not just because of how he’s aged, but because of how horrible he’s been to you in general.

The next time Joel sees you, you’re at the bar, chatting with a man who Maria had introduced him to not long ago, a resident who is new in town. Joel had been too busy focusing on the fact that he’d been in Jackson long enough to not be its newest resident that he couldn’t remember his name. He wishes he had, so he could keep tabs on him. Of course, he can’t blame the man for being drawn to you – Joel knows very well that you’re hard to miss in a crowd.

Still, Joel bristles when you both step away from the bar, and the man’s hand lands just above your sacrum. He actually finds himself tensing up, resisting the urge to intervene, because it’d likely only make you angry. Plus, maybe you are interested. That question is answered quickly when you reach behind your to clasp the man's hand and place it back at his side. Where it belongs, he thinks.

“Joel!”

He snaps his attention to what’s in front of him – interrupted, and probably for good measure, lest he get himself too worked up. Ethan approaches with a girl his age, her arm linked through his. Joel stands to greet them.

The terse understanding between himself and Ethan while you were still in the hospital had somehow turned into a friendship, especially after they’d begun getting paired up on patrol. Ethan reaches out for Joel’s hand to dap him up, slinging an arm briefly over his shoulder.

“How’s it going, kid?”

“Good, good,” Ethan nods, pulling back, and gestures to the girl next to him. “Joel, this is Alex.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she says. “Ethan’s told me all about you.”

“Really?” Joel asks, feeling a little bewildered.

“Only good things,” Alex says quickly, as if she senses his apprehension. Ethan puts his arm around her waist. Joel recalls a few weeks back when he’d asked for advice on how to ask out a girl. Joel hadn’t pried at the time, but now he seems to understand, and is surprised by the swell of pride he feels. “Ethan says you’re a fucking badass,”she giggles after she swears.

Joel looks over at Ethan. “I don’t know about that.”

He shrugs, changes the subject. “Since when do you come to these things?” Ethan asks.

“Ellie dragged me out,” Joel answers.

“I did the same with my aunt,” Ethan chuckles. “But now I can’t find her, and I’m pretty sure she’s escaped.”

“Oh, is she here?” Joel plays dumb, like he hasn’t been aware of exactly where you have been all night. “I haven’t seen her.”

“I think she was with Eugene earlier,” Alex has to stand on her toes to speak into Ethan’s ear. Joel watches Ethan’s nose wrinkle.

“Do you know Eugene at all?” Ethan turns to Joel. “I’m trying to figure out what’s going on there, but she won’t say anything.”

Joel wishes that he had more information. “Tommy says they seem close.”

“I know that,” Ethan says. “I wish she would just be honest with me. It’s not like I would be mad. Whatever,” he shakes his head. “We can talk about it another time. I just want to find her so I can introduce her to Alex.”

“We should say hi to Tommy and Maria first,” Alex says, and Ethan nods in agreement before saying goodbye to him. Joel claps a hand on Ethan’s shoulder as he moves past him, and Alex gives him a shy smile in acknowledgement.

Focusing back on the crowd, Joel realizes that you’ve vanished in the short span of his last interaction. Maybe you’d rejected that guy, and then he’d retaliated. Maybe you’d gone home with Eugene. Joel shakes his hand. It’s none of his business. He doesn’t need to get involved. It’s not his job to look after you, regardless of how much better he feels when he does. Old instincts. He can’t help himself.

He settles on watching Ellie and Dina spin each other around on the dance floor. Eventually, Tommy and Maria, then Ethan and Alex all trickle out of the booth to go get another round or head to dance. Joel stands to release the booth to someone who actually needs it – and is left in the corner, nursing a nearly empty beer that’s now flat and warm. He looks towards his family and friends, but for some reason, he still feels alone.

Joel isn’t sure how long he stands sulking, but he starts when someone approaches from behind.

“Having fun?”

You’re a pace or two back, one thumb hooked through a belt loop, a whiskey in your opposite hand. Joel looks back at the crowd a moment, then at the ground. “No.”

“Neither am I,” you commiserate, stepping alongside him.

Joel considers offering that Ethan was looking for you, but selfishly does not want to give you a reason to leave, so he stays quiet. You observe the dance floor like he is, smiling slightly at the sight of Ethan and Alex dancing. The flannel you’re wearing over a gray tank hangs loosely off one shoulder, and Joel wants to reach out and touch the exposed skin. You take your last sip of whiskey, bring a finger to swipe under your bottom lip, and Joel wishes he knew what you might taste like right now. He scolds himself for fantasizing.

You don’t speak either, and you stand in silence for a while, until you eventually pop your hip, shifting closer to him. Maybe you don’t realize it, but you’re already standing so close that your arm gets pressed up against his. Neither of you acknowledge the contact, but Joel is acutely aware of how your skin burns hot against his own. He feels comforted by the affection, even if it’s unintentional.

“Want to leave?” Joel asks, and can hardly believe that the words came out of his mouth, even if he wanted them to.

You look over at him, not bothering to hide your surprise, but your expression evens out quickly, and you give him a single nod. “Yeah.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel’s still not convinced this is real. It feels too much like a dream, the weather outside is so pleasantly warm it feels like he’s floating as you walk down the street. He had never expected you to agree to leave with him, and now he doesn’t know what to do, or what to say.

The greater distance you put between yourselves and the bar, the quieter the town is. Most of Jackson’s residents are at the dance, save for the guards at the front gate and the handful of people that had been mingling just outside.

He heads in the general direction of the neighborhood, even though he lives on a different street.

“What are we supposed to do now?” you wonder out loud, and you sound a little incredulous, like you’re equally as shocked to find yourself beside him. The question carries a bit more weight than it would have coming from anyone else.

Joel contemplates. He’s not sure what he wants from you – there are a lot of things, actually – but he doesn’t know if he really deserves any of them. For now, your companionship is more than enough.

“You’re welcome to come back to mine,” he offers. “But if you’re looking to keep drinking, all the booze is back at the bar.”

“I’m good.” You shake your head like you’re uninterested, but look over at him with a sparkle in your eye. “I have something better….”

You reach into the pocket of your flannel and produce a rolled joint between two fingers, looking over your shoulder. “Those dances are usually terrible, so I always come prepared.”

Joel can’t help the chuckle that escapes him, and the sheepish grin he gets in return makes his cheeks feel warm. “Where’d you even get that?”

“You’ve never been on patrol with Eugene, have you?” you ask. “He has a place just out of town where he grows it. I’ve been helping him since we first got paired up, and in exchange, I get to sample the supply.”

Of course. Joel would’ve never imagined that was the reason you were so close with Eugene, but it suddenly makes incredible sense. He shakes his head in a combination of relief and amusement. “You really haven’t changed.”

“Oh, I’m sure I have,” you answer, smiling to yourself and looking at the ground. “But of course I haven’t shaken all my bad habits.”

“That’s not true,” Joel mutters.

“Well, you haven’t changed either, for as much as you’ve tried to convince me,” you nudge him gently, offering him the joint. “What do you think?”

Joel plucks it from between your fingers and puts it between his lips. “I think I have a lighter at home.”

“Sounds perfect.”

In the front hallway of his house, you slip out of your tennis shoes, shuffling behind him in your socks, pausing occasionally to study some of the doodles that Ellie had drawn and hung on the walls – it wasn’t exactly a priority to decorate these days, but they certainly livened up the place. He knows how much Ellie likes you, despite the fact that she doesn’t gush, but the odd comment here and there says as much. Joel remembers how difficult it had been to keep Sarah away, and Ellie now is no different. He doesn’t seem to be able to help himself, either.

You sit next to Joel on his wicker couch, curling your feet up under you as he lights the joint and study him while he takes the first few puffs. He does it without thinking. That’s how soft Jackson has made him. Normally, he’d be too stressed about being out of his wits. But he can’t see how hypervigilance has served him since settling down. He feels safe here, and somehow especially because he’s with you.

When he passes the joint your way, you look at him wistfully. “Old times,” you say with a grin.

Joel nods as he exhales, coughing. “Old times.”

“Oh yeah,” you say, as if you just remembered something. “You can’t tell Ethan about this. He doesn’t know, and he will give me shit about it. I need him to take me seriously.”

Joel shakes his head. “Well, you know, it sounds like he and Tommy both think you and Eugene are together.”

“What?” your head jerks forward in shock, eyes going wide. “Oh my god, no. Do people think that?”

“I’m just sayin’,” Joel wants to mention how he had seen you whispering to each other at the bar earlier, but then realizes it’d give a bit too much away. “That’s what they think.”

“Well....historically speaking I might’ve liked older men…. but not that old.”

Joel purses his lips. “You’ve lived here awhile, huh?” When you nod, he continues. “Has no one caught your eye?”

“Uhm….not really. But….” you trail off, looking into Joel’s backyard. “To be completely honest, I don't think about that much these days. I guess I feel like I have a lot to be grateful for. I don’t want to push it.”

Joel understands, and nods pensively.

“What about you?” you ask.

“I guess I feel the same.”

That causes you to smile a little bit, look over at him. “I bet you already know this. But the women here would line up down the block for you.”

Joel can’t help but roll his eyes, though he wonders if you would, too. Even if you did like him, that didn’t seem like your style.

“I’m serious. I’ve heard the things they whisper behind your back. All their fantasies about you are pretty creative...”

“Fantasies?” He grimaces. He imagines none of them know anything about who he really is. You’re the closest thing, and all he’s done is hurt you. “I’m sure you were quick to set them straight.”

“I don’t say anything,” you say, then continue on, a little quieter, looking at him from under your lashes. “I like to keep you to myself.”

Joel isn’t sure how to respond to that. You have every right to tell all of them that you were once together, and all the ways he’s hurt you since. Yet for some reason, you’ve chosen to protect him.

“So….all this time….” you wonder. “You had to have been with other people, right?”

Joel doesn’t think to hold back. “I had a partner for a long time. Tess. First, it was all business, I helped her smuggle things in and out of the Boston QZ…and then, I don’t know….we got along, we trusted each other and…” Joel trails off, hoping you’d put together the rest before he has to go into too much detail. “She was real fuckin’ tough. Scared me a little at first. You would’ve liked her.”

“Well, we already have one thing in common. What happened?”

“She’s the whole reason I ended up out here….with Ellie,” Joel explains. “But I lost her a little over a year ago.”

He hopes you don’t ask how. Maybe someday he’d be willing to go into detail, but talking about it generally is hard enough as it is. But fortunately, you seem to pick up on his hesitance. “I’m sorry, Joel,” you say softly.

He shakes his head. “I was an asshole. To her. I should've....after Sarah died I didn’t want to get attached, so I kept her at arms length and I... I wished I hadn’t in the end. It only made things worse.”

“Yeah,” you nod, look down. “I’ve made that mistake before.”

Joel doesn’t want to linger any longer on the memory. “What about you? Were you with anyone?”

“Uhm, yeah,” you fidget, looking uncomfortable. “I had a partner….for like ten years."

Ten years? He had been with Tess for more, but something about that information feels jarring. He’s shocked Tommy never told him this. Did Tommy even know? Suddenly, it dawns on Joel everything that could’ve happened to you since you’ve been apart. Entire lifetimes. And he’d said such horrible things when you’d fought. He remembers your face when he’d told you that you didn’t know what it was like to lose a child. Maybe you had. He’d been so cruel and inconsiderate just because he was uncomfortable.

His throat feels tight, almost scared to learn anymore. “What…what was his name?”

“Well, Bea….was her name.”

Joel is sure he doesn't hide the shock well. “Sorry, I didn’t know…”

“Yeah,” you say. “I don’t think I did either. Well, I sort of did, but I was too young I think when I first realized to make any sense of it, but…. I met her and…yeah,” then, you smirk. “I mean, I went to an all-girls school and I had a really bad relationship with my dad so…it definitely makes sense. ”

Joel considers this, smiles along with you. “But anyways. Her and I met shortly after my brother died and it was kind of the same. We kept each other alive, things developed from there. We ended up getting involved with this group who lived in the middle of nowhere. That’s a whole other story, but…” you wave your hand. “I loved her, and I lost her right before Ethan and I got here.”

Joel sees all the pain in your eyes, and wishes he could say something to take it all away. He knows he can’t. You look back out into the woods in his backyard, take a deep breath, and reach back towards the joint that you had put out not long before, lighting it again. Joel gets the sense that both of you had done the most amount of sharing possible for the time being.

“Look at us,” you take another drag before passing it over. “Old times.”

“Old times,” he repeats, a smile working its way onto his face.

“This used to be my favorite thing to do with you.”

“It was nice,” Joel agrees….hesitates before continuing. “But I can think of some things I liked better.” He gives you a knowing look, and you roll your eyes, laughing easily at his joke. It feels so good to make you laugh, to see you smile. Why had he spent so much time resisting?

“Touche.”

What happens next spills out of Joel so quickly he doesn’t think to stop it. “I tried to look for you….after all this happened. I didn’t have Sarah anymore, and I thought maybe….I don’t know. It was the only thing that kept me going for a while.”

“I did too,” you confess. “But…I was with Vincent and Ethan, and I felt like I couldn’t leave them alone for something that might just be…. I always hoped you both made it. And I’m so sorry she’s gone. I really did love her.”

“I know you did,” Joel reaches out to take your hand. “I know. And I shouldn’t have said those things I did. I’m still not sure why you’ve been so patient with me.”

“Hmm,” you shift so that you’re closer to him. “You waited around for me back then. It’s only fair that I’d wait around for you now. I want you in my life. I don’t care what that looks like. But it’s too hard to forget about a person that you loved.”

Joel wants as much from you as you’re willing to give, and he can’t tear his gaze away from you. But he wants you to see him, all of him, before he takes it.

“I’ve let a lot of people down. I’ve done a lot of h-horrible things,” his voice cracks, and tears well in his eyes.

“I have, too, you know? Those things still live with me. But I think what matters is who we are now,” you reach out, fingertips brushing the scar on his temple, and Joel swears that even if you don’t know the story behind it, you can see right through him. “And I know who you are.”

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I already have.”

“You won’t,” you say. “No more than anyone else has. And if it makes you feel better…when people hurt me, I’ve gotten pretty good at hurting them back.”

“If I do, I’d hope you would.”

“I will. I promise,” your thumb strokes his cheek, marveling at him. “I would suggest a blood oath or something but….I heard we kind of already did that…”

He’s given you every warning, every barrier, and you’re still here. He can’t believe it, and he doesn’t think he can hold back any longer. “Come here.”

He kisses you. He wishes that he could be slow and tender and gentle like he used to be – and certainly he’s still capable, but he realizes that he’s been depriving himself of something he wanted for so long, and can’t seem to control himself.

Your hands land on the side of his face, and he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. Maybe you’re somewhat taken aback by his urgency, you hum against his lips, but you don’t resist at all. Joel maneuvers you so you’re straddling his thighs, and he grips your hips, your ass, coasts his hands up your side. Your lips part in a moan, and he slips his tongue into your mouth.

For a while, he stays there, savors the taste of you, whiskey and smoke still lingering on your lips. His hands cup your jaw, feel your body, grip and squeeze and stroke and you let him, continue to let him. He tries everything, wondering if you’ll tell him to stop, if you’ll decide you’ve had too much, but you don’t. Then again, he should know by now that you’re a woman who knows what she wants. He just finds it’s hard to believe that he’s the thing you want.

You break away from him, just a little, and Joel presses his nose to your neck, kisses your pulse point.

“Should we go upstairs?” your voice is raspy and breathless. “Will Ellie be home soon?”

“Probably not for a while. We can be quick.”

“Hopefully not too quick,” you raise your eyebrows. Joel can’t help but laugh a little. He relishes in the way your hands rake up and down his arms, exploring him, touching him. Of course he wants you, but even just this would be enough. He’d be content with less, he hadn’t realized how starved of affection he’d been.

You’re able to pry yourselves off one another to make it up the stairs, and Joel guides you with a hand to the small of your back. When you get to his bedroom, he opens the door, but stops you before you go inside.

“Hold on,” Joel mutters, winding one arm around your waist, the other behind your knee.

“Joel, what-no, you’ll–” he pulls you into his arms.

“Do you really think I’m not strong enough?”

“I didn’t say that,” you chuckle as he carries you over the threshold and into the bedroom, breath puffing against him before he lays you down on the bed.

When he hovers over you, your fingers wind into his hair, nails raking against his scalp. He savors every sweet sigh he’s able to pull from you, hands cupping your breasts and squeezing your hips. You’re so pliant and open beneath his body, it makes it easier to not feel guilty about what he’s doing. He knows he shouldn’t feel guilty, you’ve said as much, but it might take some time before the feeling will die completely. Hopefully, he has enough time with you to see it off completely.

Clothes are removed quickly, intentionally, as you both bare more and more of yourself to each other. And while he wishes he could’ve been there to see the ways in which your body has changed, you’re still as beautiful as ever.

Joel, however, is hesitant to give himself away completely. When you tug at the hem of his shirt, he hesitates.

“I don’t know if-” he pauses. “If you want to see all that.”

“Joel,” you stare at him knowingly, kneeling across from him as he stands at the edge of the bed. “I do.”

So he releases your hand, and lets you pull it over his head. Carefully, you study him, his body littered with scars. He knows he’s not as in shape as you remember. These days, he hardly can look at himself in the mirror after a shower. He expects you to be disgusted, or at least see it flit across your face before you compose yourself, but you don’t. Your fingertips drag through the smattering of hair on his chest and down his torso, tracing several prominent scars – each one with a story – but you linger on the one at his abdomen, frowning.

He sees the question on your face, but you don’t ask it. Instead, you return to press yourself against him. “I’m so glad you’re still here….”

You kiss him, then, and Joel can only kiss you back.

Joel isn’t the only one with battle scars. Some of them he feels are his fault, but you seem less self-concious about them, which gives him a surprising amount of confidence. Maybe it’s just a reality of what happens when you make it this long.

When you’re finally bare beneath him, he admires how you look, stretched out and waiting, chest heaving and shivering with anticipation. He slides his hand between your legs – feels you already wet and warm, sinking two fingers inside. Your walls flutter around the intrusion, back arcing off the bed when you sigh out his name. Joel.

He’d forgotten how nice it felt to hear that.

Joel is already thinking about what he’d like to do to you next time. He’d be more careful, more patient. He’d bury his face between your thighs to see if you tasted as good as he remembers, he’d let your fingers curl into his hair. But right now you both seem desperate for the same thing.

He pumps his cock a few times with his hand, he can’t remember the last time he’d been this hard – the last time he’s wanted anyone this badly. Even with Tess, it had always felt like the both of them were hurrying to scratch an itch, her eyes would wander like she was thinking of other people, and maybe he was, too.

Joel lines himself up with your slick cunt, teases you a little, and you roll your body down to meet him, gasping when his blunt head slides in – just a little.

He can’t hold back. You practically suck him in, so tight and hot around him he finds it immediately overwhelming, but he doesn’t even think to pull out. Only when he’s fully seated inside you, and given you a chance to adjust, does he start to move.

It’s euphoric. You’re both older now, more mature, but he still remembers all the things you liked, even if it takes a moment for him to find the spot inside you that makes you cry out, legs wrapping around his hips.

Unlike before, you don’t bother trying to hide from him. You kiss him, hold him, touch him, look him in the eyes, tell him how good he feels – you don’t hold back. Joel relishes every word you say, clings to the praise and gives it back. Your lashes flutter when he tells you how pretty you look.

He can think of nothing else other than bringing you pleasure, can tell you’re getting close when you begin to rut against him, and he reaches down to let the pads of his fingers slide over your clit.

When you come, you whine his name, lock your lips with his own and he swallows your moans. The feeling of you so impossibly tight and wet and pulsing and squeezing him so tightly has him following closely after.

His head is still buried in the crook of your neck when you speak again. “God, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

The second Joel pulls out, he starts missing how close he felt to you. But you fix that by rolling over onto your stomach, curling up at his side, head on his chest, and arm across his stomach.

“Joel. Fuck, you’re so perfect.”

He’s far from it. But he’s starting to think if you say it enough, maybe he’ll start to believe it. He turns his head to kiss you gently, slowly. “So are you.”

“We can do this again, right?” you ask.

“Yes,” he says. “Yes, we can.”

“Good,” you settle back against him, and very slowly, he dozes off with you right beside him. He doesn’t want to sleep alone again, and luckily, he doesn’t have to.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-December 4th, 2026-

When you return home from patrol, you find Joel in his living room – boots off and socked feet propped on the arm of the couch. You don’t notice his eyes are closed, that he’s asleep, until you get closer, see the book he’d been reading resting on his chest as he snores lightly. You can’t help but feel for him – he’s probably exhausted from constant patrols, so he must be tired.

But mostly, you’re just overwhelmed by the love you feel for him, catching him in a quiet moment of vulnerability. Hesitantly, you reach out and squeeze his foot. It’s gentle and tender enough that he blinks his eyes open and looks around, taking in his surroundings, rather than jolting awake like he often does. When he sees you on the opposite end of the couch, he melts back into the pillow he’s propped against.

“Hey, stud,” you lean against the arm of the couch.

“Hey,” Joel answers, voice still gruff with sleep. “How long was I out?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I just got in.”

“Hmm,” Joel closes his eyes again, folds his hands across his stomach.

“You’re wearing the glasses I got you,” you point out. They’re simple. Rectangular black frames. You’d found them on patrol, and brought them home after Joel had been complaining that he could barely see when he read before bed. But he’d tried them on and insisted he hated the way they looked, so you’d ended up using them most of the time.

“They do work,” he grumbles, like he’s ashamed to admit it. “But I still think they look stupid.”

“You look like a sexy librarian,” Joel rolls his eyes, but you can tell he’s suppressing a grin. There’s always a bit of defiance about him, he can’t fully admit how you get him so flustered even after you’ve spent so much time together. You press your thumb into the arch of his foot and he groans. “That feel good?” you ask.

“Yes.”

“Whatcha reading?” You gesture towards the book.

“Some book about the moon landing,” Joel lifts it off of his chest, where it lay face down and open, looks at the back cover. “For Ellie.”

“How sweet.”

“It’s a little dry,” he deadpans. “But she likes this stuff.”

You shift your massage to his other foot. Joel stretches, his arms lifting above his head, the shirt he’s wearing rides up just so, so you see a sliver of his lower belly before it disappears again, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“Are you tired?” you ask.

“Always,” he says through a yawn.

“Me too,” you yawn along with him, since they’re contagious. He pulls the glasses from their perch on the bridge of his nose and shuts the book, placing them both on the coffee table in front of him. You take your hands off his feet and he sits up a little straighter, holding out his hand.

“Come ‘ere,” he says, and you do.

He grunts as you settle into his arms, head nestled against his chest, sprawling out almost on top of him, the only way you both can fit like this on the couch.

“You’re so warm,” you say softly, letting him wrap his arms around you.

“You’re cold. Your hands are freezing,” he holds them in his own.

“It’s cold out.”

“Don’t know why you left today.”

“Obligations. Patrol.”

“Fuck that.”

You laugh into his chest, pausing for a moment before speaking again. “You know, I think we might be boring.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, we don’t really leave the house. We spend all day reading. And we’re old.”

“We’re not that old.”

“But we’re getting up there.”

“Sure, but…” Joel trails off.

“Everything’s so quiet, so calm.”

“I think that’s what most people would describe as content.”

“Are you content?” you ask, lifting your head to look him in the eyes.

“I’m happy,” he says softly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ears. “Are you?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Then don’t worry about the rest.”

“Okay,” you settle back against your husband's chest, feel his lips brush your forehead.

His fingers search absentmindedly for the ring on your finger he’d found while clearing out a pawn shop not too long ago. The one he wore looked nothing like your own. But the marriage had been long overdue, and neither of you cared what the rings actually looked like.

Nowadays, you split your time between his place with Ellie, and your own with Ethan, but end up in his bed every night. At this point, you don’t think you could sleep without him.

Years ago, another lifetime, you’d had a conversation underneath a sky full of stars. You’d told him that for you, good things had never lasted. Joel had made a promise.

This will.

It took time. There was a lot of pain. But in the end, he had told you the truth.

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beardedjoel · 10 months

Text

closer | part seventeen

joel x f!reader. non-apocalypse au.

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3

chapter summary: your new coworkers discover your relationship with joel, and a night out with them after work results in a distressing situation. afterwards, joel wants to help you make it all better. 9.2k words.

story warnings: 18+ MDNI, age difference (joel is 42 and reader is 25), soft!dom joel, unprotected piv, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, joel is so boyfriend this chapter

extra warning: PLEASE READ! this chapter contains a scene of attempted sexual assault, so i understand that’s very sensitive and a bit different than my typical chapter. it’s not an extremely graphic or long scene, but it is there and could be triggering! i’ve put a TW where the scene starts and END TW where the scene ends in case you want to read around it.

You hate the way the days seem to be flying by now - your restful, sexy summer came to an abrupt end when you opened an email from your work one morning, requesting that you start coming to the office as soon as you possibly could. Now, two weeks into it, you’re busier than you’ve been in a long time, trying to balance this new workload that had fallen into your lap. When you’d been working at home, gathering ideas, it was one thing, but now you’re surrounded by a team of people relying on you and your partner, Rayna, to get things up and running smoothly. You have to admit, you two are absolutely kicking ass, but it’s meant a lot of late nights at the office with her and some of your other team members.

Joel has been almost too supportive through all of this, and you know that he’s holding back his own feelings about seeing you less to encourage you to keep working so hard. You haven’t been seeing each other as often due to both of your work schedules, but you constantly let each other know how much you miss the other. The first few days of work, you were barely coherent, practically sleeping before your head hit the pillow each night, and you felt terrible for being such awful company for Joel when you’d manage to drag yourself over to his house. He reassured you multiple times but the guilt still gnawed at you for the entire week. Things have evened out somewhat, but you miss the carefree days you’d been able to focus only on Joel. You suppose it’s healthier this way, though, to have other focuses in life other than a man.

Just because you’d gotten busier, your appetite for Joel hadn’t dissipated in the least, leaving you an overworked, stressed, horny mess. You both did your best to get your fill of each other over the last two weeks, but it was never enough. It never has been with Joel, and you start to wonder if it ever will be every time you satisfy your craving for him and then feel it come right back again. The hunger you have for that man to drive himself into you at all hours of the day has only grown with your feelings for him, and you have to admit, it adds to your stress just how deeply you feel for him these days.

The fact that you haven’t found a good time to tell him you love him is just one more thing to gnaw at you in the back of your mind while you’re trying to get your life in order. You know it seems crazy, that after such a short time together you love the man, but every moment you’ve spent with him since the thought crossed your mind has only further proved it to you.

And you’re terrified of what might happen if you admit it to him.

You’re at work, finishing up a quick meeting with Rayna when your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you see a text from Joel come through.

Joel: Surprise lunch?

You: Maybe… what time?

Joel: … right now

You: What?!

Joel: I might be outside with food for you

You: 😂 okay, Mr. Romantic. Come inside to floor 3, I’ll just be a few minutes

The office space is a rather large, open concept, and you have a clear view of the front through the glass divider that separates your department. Several minutes later you see Joel hesitantly poke his head into the office, looking slightly clueless, and it’s adorable to you for some reason. Maybe it’s that he’s always so in charge of things and confident that whenever you get a chance to see him nervous it melts your heart a little bit.

“Hey, I’m gonna head out for lunch really quick, I’ll be back in a bit,” you tell Rayna, despite knowing you two have nothing scheduled for the next hour for that very reason.

She gives you a go ahead, so you start heading towards Joel and wave him down, and he flashes you your favorite lopsided smile. He looks like he came right from work, dressed in a paint splattered t-shirt and jeans, carrying a cooler full of food. It’s certainly a sight for sore eyes, you think to yourself, any time you see Joel fresh from work, always looking a little dirtier than usual. Between that and the insatiable need you’ve had for him lately it’s more than enough to make you want to climb him like a tree right here in front of everyone.

You notice several nearby, questioning eyes on you two as you loop your arm in his and head for the elevator.

“Nosy bastards,” Joel murmurs, and you stifle a laugh behind your hand, but nod in agreement.

“Very much so,” you tell him with a roll of your eyes. “There’s a cool cafeteria space in this building, we can eat there,” you add on while you wait for the elevator doors to open. As soon as you two are inside and the doors slide shut, you throw yourself at Joel, knowing you only have minutes, or even seconds, before the doors open back up. He quickly catches on, despite his surprise, and as your lips clash with his he reciprocates quickly, his free hand that isn’t carrying the cooler cupping your face and bringing you even closer. Your tongues beg for entry in each other’s mouths over and over, as much as time will allow you, but after several beeps of the elevator, you know your time is almost up, so you reluctantly pull away from Joel, keeping one arm snaked around him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, pressing his forehead to yours and looking deeply into your eyes with a lustful gaze. “I’d ask what’s gotten into you, but you’ve always been my insatiable girl, haven’t you?” Joel says, low and inviting. You simply smirk in response as the doors of the elevator open and you step out in front of him, leading him to the large cafeteria space. It’s on a high up floor, boasting a sweeping view of downtown outside of large, glass windows. There’s tables and chairs, refrigerators, and microwaves for any employee in this office building to use, and you’ve tried to eat up here as often as you can to clear your mind and separate yourself from work for at least a little bit of time during the day.

Joel’s eyes scan the room, taking in the views and modern decor, and shoots you an impressed look.

“Very fancy,” he teases as you sit down at a small, rounded two top table near the windows.

“Fancy girl job calls for a fancy cafeteria,” you reply with a little laugh.

“And look at ya, in your cute little business clothes,” Joel says, scrunching his face proudly as he squeezes your leg under the table. The company you work for is relatively casual with things like the dress code, but you still like to wear clothing that hopefully can help gain the respect of your team, so you’re wearing black slacks and a short sleeved blouse today.

“Does it look okay, really? I feel like a fraud sometimes in these clothes, like I shouldn’t be so in charge of people,” you ask him, tugging anxiously at the collar of your shirt as you look down to inspect your outfit.

“Nah, honey, you deserve it all. And you look great as always. Very professional,” Joel says, giving you a wink, indicating while you may look professional, your behavior moments ago was anything but. You bite your lip with warming cheeks at the recollection as Joel starts pulling out the lunch he made for you two to share - a salad, potato chips, and something wrapped in foil, which he shyly admits is a grilled cheese, something you’d told him once you love eating.

“How the hell did you even manage to make a grilled cheese and get all the way here by lunch time?” you ask incredulously.

“We got a toaster oven on site, so I whipped this up real quick before comin’ here. Hope it stayed warm ‘nuff for ya,” he tells you, and you shake your head, in complete disbelief that Joel is a real, living, breathing, walking thing that you have the pleasure of having in your life.

“Thank you,” you manage to say, unwrapping the grilled cheese sandwich and biting into it. While not hot, it’s managed to stay warm and you tell Joel as much, a bit of relief passing over his face at hearing it.

“You look stressed, darlin’,” Joel says, his brows pinching together in concern.

“I’m always stressed now,” you say, propping your head in your hand, letting a long sigh escape you.

“Anythin’ I can do to help?”

“This right here is amazing,” you say, gesturing to the lunch spread out on the table. “Just getting to see you. And…I guess there’s something else,” you trail off, biting your lip, flashing Joel your best version of bedroom eyes. Joel’s interest is clearly piqued as he leans forward, a cocky smile pulling at his lips.

“And… what else, darlin’?”

You lean forward, glancing into Joel’s eyes but lowering them at the last second out of embarrassment. “I…need you,” you say, knowing you’re being vague but also knowing that Joel will get the message.

Joel laughs heartily before taking one of your hands in his across the table. “We can arrange somethin’, I s’pose.” he says.

“Oh, you suppose?” you say with a dramatic scoff.

“Sweetheart, don’t act like I wouldn’t take you right now on this damn table in front of everyone,” Joel retorts quickly, a little bite to his voice that has you fighting the urge to squirm in your seat. He drops your hand and sits back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“J-joel,” you breathe, glancing around the room as your face heats up with the sudden rush you feel. The image he described flashes through your mind, sending a pang of desire straight down between your legs. You just might be desperate enough to not care if he really did end up doing that.

“What? You gonna start this, don’t be mad when I try ‘n finish it,” he says. “You know I don’t stand for any teasin’, darlin’. Walkin’ in dangerous territory now, ain’t ya.”

You meet Joel’s gaze, intensity flaring in his eyes, and make a decision that definitely goes against your morals, but desperate times, and all of that.

“I think I saw a supply closet on the way here…” you mumble, and the smirk Joel gives you is worth any guilt you might be feeling about your unethical desires right now.

“C’mon baby, probably all wet already for me, aren’t you?” he asks with his voice low, his eyes drifting over your body hungrily. He stands up, collecting everything from the table into his cooler bag and offering you his hand. He drags you along, seeming to already have spotted the closet for himself, and it almost makes you laugh that you both had the same idea on the way to the cafeteria. He ushers you inside of the closet, a small, cramped space with shelves lined with all kinds of cleaning supplies and back-ups of toiletries for the bathrooms.

“Gonna be quiet, or let everyone here know how good you take my cock, hm?” Joel says, cupping your face with his hand and leaning in, brushing his lips over your cheek. You melt instantly, breathing in the familiar, musky scent of him and already feel your knees wanting to buckle underneath you. It’s like coming home when he gets this close to you, and you could fall into its trap a million times and never tire of it.

“Whichever you want,” you breathe out, the picture of submission as you let him press you into the wall and kiss you.

“What I want… is a taste of that sweet little pussy of yours. Been missin’ it,” Joel grumbles into your lips, and you press your hips forward, begging him to do what he’s telling you. As his lips clash with yours again, he unbuttons your pants, sliding a hand down into them and past the fabric of your underwear. Joel lets out a low sound of approval at the slickness he gathers on his fingers, rubbing them through your slit and beginning tight circles on your clit. You’ve had so much pent up sexual frustration towards him the last few days that you nearly combust right then, a strangled cry flying out of your mouth before you can stop it.

“Christ, baby, so fuckin’ needy… gonna make me crazy,” Joel murmurs, “You miss me this much?” he asks, pulling his fingers up to inspect how they shine and glisten with your arousal. You nod furiously, back arching you into him, begging for anything from him now.

“I do…P-please, I’ll do anything, just touch me.”

Joel considers your words for a moment, his cock getting harder just from hearing the way you beg for him. It satisfies some little itch inside of him every time the words please pass your lips when it comes to his cock. He groans internally at the feeling of how hard he’s getting, how he’s straining against his jeans, knowing he doesn’t have all the time he truly desires to get you off right now.

He crouches in front of you, pulling your pants down and helping you step out of them, along with your underwear, revealing your already throbbing, glistening cunt to him, eliciting a hungry growl from Joel. He grips the back of one of your thighs, throwing it over his shoulder before he buries himself between your legs, his tongue not wasting any time lapping up all the desire you’re pouring out for him. Joel moans deeply into your cunt, and in that moment you know, despite his typically calm and cool facade, he’s been just as sexually frustrated as you. You’re relishing in the way his mouth feels right now, but you know that with the little time you have left on your lunch, you want nothing more than to bring him pleasure, too.

“J-joel,” you say quietly, tugging at his hair.

“Feels so good baby, don’t it?” he murmurs, his lips immediately going to suck on your clit. Your eyes roll back, and you try to get your bearings enough to tell him to stop that and fuck you, but it’s hard now that you feel so close to the edge, your core tightening and burning with a coming climax.

“N-no, Joel… stop. I want you… to…”

Joel hears the word ‘no’ and immediately pulls himself off of you, peering up at you with questioning eyes. When you see the sight of your slickness coating his beard, his flushed face and glistening eyes, you nearly tell him to stick his face right back where it was instead.

“You okay? Did I hurt you?” Joel asks, his hand gently gripping onto your leg in concern.

“N-no of course not,” you say, shaking your head and catching your breath a little. “I just… we don’t have a lot of time, I want you inside of me,” you say sheepishly.

Joel’s lips curl into a smirk before he stands up, towering over you once again. You hook your fingers into his belt loops and bring him closer, feeling his cock grind against you through his jeans.

“This what you want?” Joel grinds against you again, situating his pants to free his cock, and it springs free, hard and throbbing between you two. Your eyes practically glaze over at the sight of it, having thought about him inside of you endlessly for the last few days.

“So cock hungry, look at you… what a sight, angel,” Joel leans forward, nipping at your bottom lip and you whimper when his cock brushes your bare skin between your legs.

“N-need you to fuck me Joel, can’t stop thinking about it.” You roll your hips into him with carnal need, and Joel teases your slit, rubbing his cock through your slick folds. Your hips convulse forward slightly as he passes over your throbbing clit several times, moans already coming out of your mouth as he devastates you with the barest of touches.

“You been touchin’ yourself, sweetheart? Just tryna get rid of that ache for me?”

You shake your head, “N-no, not really. Just a little. Wanted to save it all for you.”

“Oh, baby, that’s why you’re about to come all over this cock before I barely do a damn thing, ain’t it?” You simply nod your answer, sweating and whimpering for him to do more, more, more. He obliges you, resting the head of his cock at your entrance. “Much as I like you to be all mine, you gotta promise me you’ll take care of yourself whenever you need. Call me if you gotta, m’kay?” He pinches the side of your face, planting several kisses on your lips before Joel once again lifts one of your legs up, curling his arm under it to hold you steady as he slides himself into you. Both of your groans of relief fill the otherwise soundless room, panting breaths added into the mix as he starts to move slowly inside of you.

“God, baby, I missed this perfect little pussy,” Joel purrs, his body pressed right into yours, the curves of your body fitting perfectly together. His head buries in your neck as he thrusts into you, and you let out a quiet whimper, relishing in the sensation of him stretching you. “Tell me it’s all mine.”

“Yours, Joel, I’m all yours,” you whisper right next to his ear, and he shudders, letting out a gratified growl while his hips start to move more urgently into you. He fucks you into the wall aggressively, thrusting to the hilt each time, too focused on how good it feels to say any of his usual, teasing phrases to you.

“F-fuck sweetheart, I’m already gonna come, you feel so fuckin’ good and tight around me,” Joel whimpers, and moments later, he’s bucking his hips into you hard, spilling himself deep into your cunt with a groan. He takes a few deep breaths, coming back to reality after his climax, and his eyes widen, looking down at you. “Shit, sorry,” he says, pulling out of you quickly and stepping back before tucking himself back into his jeans.

“Hey, it’s alright,” you say, trying to rub his shoulder reassuringly.

“Just… been needin’ you, I guess,” Joel smirks a little, but you can tell he’s feeling embarrassed about the fact that he came before you had a chance to get off.

“Been needing you,” you echo back, and Joel slides his body against yours again and dips his head to your neck, kissing you teasingly as you grind yourself against him shamelessly.

“Think I can help with that…” Joel says, resuming his spot on his knees in front of you with a leg over his shoulder. “Gorgeous, baby,” he coos as he sees your cunt up close, slick with your own desire and his leaking out of you.

His mouth is on you again in a heartbeat, shamelessly licking up everything with vigor and moaning into your pussy as it flutters around nothing, desperate for release. “Feel this little hole squeezin’ for me, baby, you want me in there?”

“Fuck,” you groan out at his enthusiasm, “Yes, yes p-please.”

Joel inserts two fingers up to the furthest knuckle and you cry out, thrusting yourself onto his fingers and into his mouth to urge him deeper than he can possibly go right now.

“Killin’ me baby,” Joel purrs into your skin, “Bet you’d take this whole fuckin’ hand if I wanted you to.”

“Anything,” you say, breathing out an affirmation and continuing your unapologetic bounces onto his hand and face as you chase your high, his tongue flicking your clit rapidly along the way. You moan out loudly, then slap a hand over your mouth, remembering your surroundings. Shit, you hope nobody heard that and comes investigating. What a sight they would see if they opened this door right now, you think to yourself.

When his fingers start to curl inside of you, Joel begins sucking on your clit, and you have to bite down hard, grinding your teeth together, to try to dampen some of the absolutely filthy, ungodly sounds coming out of you. He pumps his fingers against that perfect spot inside of you and you lose control completely, legs turning to jelly and wobbling underneath you.

“Ohhh my god,” you whimper into your fist, your entire body trembling as Joel continues the same pattern over and over, sensing how close you are to reaching the crest of your pleasure. You feel all your senses except for the feeling of Joel’s mouth and hand fade out, and you moan, throaty and low, into your clenched fist, biting down hard enough to draw blood as you shudder your hips downwards, pushing him into you as you ride out the waves of pleasure that are wracking your body now.

Your head thumps back against the wall as you come down, and Joel stands up to meet you, giving you a boastful smile. He blatantly wipes all evidence of your encounter off of his face and beard, looking at you with such adoration in his dark eyes that it makes your heart swell. Joel tucks a strand of hair behind your ears before kissing you on the forehead.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “Best lunch ever.”

You see Rayna doing her best not to stare at you as you settle back in at your desk, praying that your face isn’t giving you away, that post-orgasm glow hopefully wiped clean off by now.

“Nice lunch?” she asks, chipper as always.

“Mhm,” you say, swinging your voice upwards on the last part, trying to echo her same positive demeanor. You immediately focus your attention down on your computer, trying to get back into the swing of your workday, tugging at the hem of your clothing, making sure everything is properly in place.

In your periphery you see Rayna clench and unclench her fists where they hover above her keyboard, and when you glance up to her eyes, they’re boring into you with an amused sparkle.

“Come on…” she says, eyebrows going up her forehead. “Who was that? Everyone is talking about it.”

“Everyone as in…everyone in the whole office, or everyone as in the usual suspects?” you quip back. The usual suspects being Rayna, obviously, Heather, Cade, and Alex from your department, and Leah and Vince from the financial department. You’d become the most tight knit with them of anyone here, working closely together on a lot of the projects you’d all been assigned to lately.

“The… usual suspects, of course,” Rayna admits, and as if on cue, Heather and Alex filter into the area, carrying mugs of tea from the kitchen.

“Okay, did you ask her yet?” Heather says to Rayna, and her eyes go wide in response.

“I’m trying to,” Rayna says through gritted teeth just as Leah and Vince slip into the room, shortly followed by Alex, all of them seeming to have a similar question. You watch on, amused at how much commotion you and Joel are causing.

“Guys, this is insane,” you chide them all as they gather around you.

“Is that your like… boyfriend or something?” Cade asks, and you avert your eyes, feeling your body heat rise several degrees at their questioning. You had never been trying to hide Joel, you just hadn’t quite gotten that personal with everyone yet. You didn’t know how they’d react to the age difference between you and Joel, so you’d wanted to get to know them a bit better before revealing anything about him. It was safe to say they’d all turned out to be open minded, kind, and never averse to sharing some of their own personal details, so you figured it was time to jump in.

“Y-yeah, I guess you could say that,” you admit shyly, and they all burst into quiet hysterics, murmurs of “told you so’s” and “oh my god’s” between all of them.

“Details!” Leah says demandingly, placing a hand on your desk and leaning forward. Everyone is pulling up chairs, and you start laughing loudly.

“Shouldn’t we be working?”

“Still got five minutes or so left on my lunch, so chop chop,” Cade replies, looking down at his watch impatiently. “He was so hot, and if I don’t get to hear any more about this in the next five minutes I’m going to be so mad at you.”

“Oh-kay. We’re seeing each other. His name is Joel,” you say, eliciting excited “ooh’s” from your little crowd. “That’s literally it! I don’t know what you want from me.” You throw your hands up in a feigned giving up gesture.

“Isn’t he like, old?” Vince says snidely, finally joining the conversation. You like Vince, and for that reason, you hadn’t told anybody about the way he’d pulled you aside for a private conversation and asked you out after about a week of working together. It felt awful to reject him, and at the time you were keeping things quiet about your personal life, so you hadn’t said you were seeing anyone. In hindsight it would have made more sense to just say you were, but you suppose at least he was able to understand a little bit better now about your rejection. It had made things slightly more awkward between you, but you’d been willing to move on if he was. For the most part, it seemed like he had been too, except for a few select moments like right now when you could see the frustration come out.

“I mean, kind of,” you say with a chuckle and a shrug. You decide to ignore his comment and vow to yourself to confront him if it continues.

“Okay, but how old?” Rayna asks, her eyes lighting up with intrigue.

“He’s forty-two,” you reply, and once again, the group is in hysterics over your answer.

“Well, he’s hot,” Leah concludes, and Cade, Rayna, Heather, and even Alex, agree. “Good job,” she adds, garnering more enthusiastic nods from the group.

“T-thank… you?” you say with a laugh.

“Can we all go out for drinks after work? I need to hear more, but my lunch is over,” Rayna says, frowning, and you consider it for a few moments, but realizing you don’t have anything on your agenda tonight, it might be fun to blow off some steam.

“Sure, if everyone else is in,” you reply, and each person, including Vince, who you’d doubted would want to hear more about Joel, agrees to the plan. Leah squeals excitedly and heads back to her desk, full of energy. The rest of the day flies by, all of you seeming to work faster with the promise of a fun evening ahead of you.

All of you funnel into a bar down the street from your office in great spirits, also having invited a few more coworkers to join you. You all order drinks at the bar and settle in, and Rayna instantly links her arm through yours.

“Alright, you know what we’re here for,” she says. The rest of the group who’d been interrogating you earlier quickly gathers around you at a high top table near the bar. The only person you don’t notice at first is Vince, who comes breezing in late, and stands nearby but not as involved in the conversation. You suppose you don’t blame him for not wanting every detail of your relationship with Joel.

“Don’t waste any time, do you guys?” you reply cheekily, and they all sip their drinks, clearly just waiting for you to go on. “What do you even want to know?” you ask, a playful irritation cropping up.

“Anything, like… what’s the deal with you two?

“He lives next to my parents, so that’s how we met. We just kind of clicked, I guess. Which was lucky for me because I was practically obsessed with him.”

“Is he like a sugar daddy or something?” Alex teases, and you laugh, pushing him hard on the arm.

“No, nothing like that. He’s a contractor, so he like, builds stuff.”

“Very sexy,” Cade chimes in, nodding his head in approval.

“It is,” you say with a sigh, picturing the way Joel had looked in his work clothes earlier.

“Well, lucky you. We had no idea you had a boyfriend,” Leah says, downing her mojito faster by the minute. She obviously needed a night out more than the rest of you.

“I didn’t know if I should say… it’s been a little unconventional, I guess. My parents only found out a few weeks ago, and that was weird, since they’re around his age.”

Leah chokes on her drink. “He’s your parents’ age?!”

“My parents are pretty young, yeah. I hadn’t really thought about it too hard when Joel and I first got together, but… uh, oops, I guess,” you reply.

“You dirty little dog,” Leah says, shaking her head and doubling over in laughter. “Well, we’re all really happy for you,” she concludes, smiling more sincerely now.

“Seriously. You caused the biggest stir the office has seen yet, sending a guy like that into our lobby,” Rayna says, fake fanning herself at the memory of Joel.

“He came to see you for lunch today, then? That’s so cute,” Leah says, ever the romantic, her eyes going starry and wide at Joel’s gesture.

“Mhm,” you say nervously, thinking about how you and Joel did much more than eat lunch today. You know they probably would love all the dirty details based on their reactions today, but you just can’t risk anything with how well this job is going so well.

“Well you tell Joel, he can do that any time he wants, but he has to come and say hello next time,” Rayna chirps, and you shake your head, throwing back some of your fruity cocktail.

“I’m sure he’d love to be interrogated by all of you,” you say, dripping in sarcasm.

You all crack jokes and gossip for a while, trying to avoid any work talk, before ordering another round and repeating more of the same. When you’re waiting at the bar for your next drink, Vince sidles up next to you, leaning onto the bar with his forearms.

“If you think people don’t realize what you did today, you’re kidding yourself,” Vince says without warning, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at you.

“What are you talking about?” you ask, trying not to panic and give anything away. While you have a sinking feeling you know exactly what he’s talking about, you don’t want to jump to any conclusions and ruin any secrecy you still have.

“Come on,” Vince replies, shaking his head. “Coming back from lunch, looking like that. Could practically see it all over your face.”

“I’m just… I was happy to see Joel, that’s all. I don’t know if you’re implying what I think you are, but you’d better be careful what you’re accusing me of.” The bartender slides your drink over, and you try to give them a smile and polite thank you before turning your attention back to the conversation.

“No, you’d better be careful,” Vince snaps. “So maybe I did follow you two up there, hoping to see if you’re as lovesick for the guy as I’d been afraid of. Thought I’d see if there was still a chance, it was stupid, I know,” he says a little more softly, before his brow furrows. “But imagine my surprise when I didn’t see you two anywhere, and I heard something from down the hall…” Vince trails off, leaving you to fill in the details.

You pale and freeze instantly, your hand gripping the glass of your cocktail firmly.

“Vince, I seriously don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say with a bite - one last, hopeful attempt to deflect his accusations.

His hand moves in a flash and grips your free wrist tightly. “If you’re going to be a whore, at least own up to it,” he says, and you blink hard, your mouth popping open but unable to make any noise for a few stunned moments.

“E-excuse me?”

He simply glances at you, holding a steady gaze. “Just saying,” he says, as if that’s any excuse for the vile words he just spit at you.

“Just saying what? That I’m a whore?” you say with a scornful laugh. It’s almost comical, whatever this side of him is that you’ve uncovered - the drunk, angry side that seems to be coming out of the woodwork this summer with these men. First Chris, now Vince, and you’re starting to wonder just what the hell is going on. Something about Joel seems to bring it out of them, and you’re tired of taking the brunt of it, quite frankly.

“That I could report you to someone. I mean, not the most ethical thing to fuck around with your boyfriend while you’re working.”

You sigh and press your lips tightly together, rubbing a hand over your eyes.

“Okay, so it wasn’t. But it’s not like it hurt anyone, so the fact that you’re sitting here threatening me over it feels a little extreme, don’t you think?”

“Woah, threatening sounds like such a strong word.” Vince lets out a little laugh, and it really pisses you off that he’s getting any sort of entertainment out of your misfortune right now.

“Vince, you’re clearly drunk. You’ve been drinking way more than anyone here, and I get you might still be upset that I didn’t go out with you, but this seems way out of line.”

“Out of line to me would be getting off when you’re at work, but maybe that’s just me…” Vince muses with a head in his hand, still clearly very entertained by himself.

“Alright, I’m leaving,” you say, having decided it doesn’t seem worth the fight at this point. You drop some cash on the bar and pick up your bag, hustling your way out. You notice Leah giving you a concerned glance, but you simply wave at her, silently promising to text them as soon as you can to let them know why you left. You’d kept Vince’s secret before, but this time he’d gone too far, let some dark side of himself come out just to fuck with you, and you didn’t feel like playing nice anymore.

// TW //

The air outside hits you as you burst the door open, thick and warm as the dusk colored light surrounds you in the sky above. You walk with purpose, your feet moving you quickly back the few blocks towards the office where your car is parked - at the least you hope to blow off some steam on the way there. You’re only a few steps from the bar when a hand grabs your wrist and pulls you back, stopping you in your tracks, and you audibly groan when you turn and see Vince looking at you, his blue eyes full of a pleading hope.

“Please, I’m sorry,” he whines, and you try to shake his wrist off. “Just come back inside.”

“Leave me alone, seriously.”

He pulls you close to him by the wrist and you wriggle your hand, trying to slide out of his grip, but it’s too tight. You realize you aren’t quite strong enough to pull him along, so you resort to placing your other hand over his and trying to pry his fingers off of you.

“Let me go,” you say sternly, but Vince doesn't seem to hear you. You feel a wave of nausea roll through you, your body naturally revolting against the situation for you.

“I just… I heard you today, and I knew it was you, I could tell those fucking noises had to be you, and it pissed me off. I was so jealous - I think you’re beautiful, and funny, and smart, and I wanted that to be me.”

You scoff, collecting your thoughts for a moment. “Well, it’s not, and I’m awfully sorry about that,” you say, dripping your voice in sarcasm. “Doesn’t mean you get to treat me like shit.”

He places his other hand over the one that’s actively trying to pry you off of him and wraps his fingers around it. “Should’ve been me,” he says before swinging you against the brick of the building, your back hitting it hard despite trying to stop the movement on your heels. The element of surprise had been on his side and you wince as your back throbs. “Wanted to hear those sounds for myself, because of me… just give me a chance.”

Vince crushes his lips into yours, his tongue sloppily begging for entry into your mouth, and you grunt loudly, jerking your head to the side so that his lips are off yours, but he continues kissing your face, trying to trail down to your neck.

“You’re fucking drunk, just let me leave.” You scowl hard but it turns to a panicked grimace as he crowds in even closer, the smell of alcohol on his breath overwhelming you as he continues trying to kiss you, grinding his body into you. When his fingers brush the hem of your shirt, you find your senses again, realizing it’s now or never. You shove him off of you as hard as you can, kicking a leg into his, and he stumbles back in his drunken stupor.

You slide out from the wall and start to dig in your purse as you quickly move away, looking for your phone. You knew you should have started carrying pepper spray again, you’d just not thought to replace the one you lost in your move to Austin yet, and a silent curse goes through you for that now. Your legs are shaking underneath you, not moving you as quickly as you want, and you feel tears pricking at your eyes as the adrenaline fades slightly.

// END TW //

“Hey, asshole!” you suddenly hear, and you glance over your shoulder to see Leah chasing Vince who is chasing you down. She grabs him by the shoulder and he whirls around on her, sending her stumbling back now, but you rush back to help before he can potentially hurt her. “What the fuck!” she yells as she pushes Vince off of her. He stops moving, breathing heavily with his hands on his knees.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, seeming to snap out of whatever insanity he’d entered moments ago. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

“That was fucked up, you know. I felt like something was off, so I came out here to check on you, and I just saw everything,” Leah says angrily, taking a few steps back from Vince. You go to Leah, gripping her arm with your trembling hands and looking her over.

“You okay?” you ask her quietly, and she nods, not taking her eyes off of Vince.

“What the hell do we do about this?” she asks, gesturing to Vince, who now is whining loudly about how sorry he is.

“Fuck if I know,” you say, your mind still reeling from the hellish interaction with him.

“Vince, you should just go home. Cool off for a bit then call an Uber or something,” Leah suggests, a bit more even tempered this time.

He looks at you, making spotty eye contact before mouthing your name. “Sorry, really. I don’t - fuck. I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I?”

“Everything meaning what I thought was starting to be a nice friendship? Yes. Consider that over,” you tell him, feeling somewhat heartless for the comment, but needing him to fully understand there isn’t a chance you’d want to continue any kind of relationship with him.

He meanders over to and sits on a curb nearby. “I get it,” he says back at you two, and Leah puts an arm around you protectively.

“Vince, we’re leaving you, maybe you can sober up and talk some more about it, but for now… just… fucking leave it, okay?” Leah says, guiding you back inside the bar. You finally feel your heart rate slowing as she rubs your shoulder, checking in on you with a concerned look on her face.

“I’ll be alright,” you assure her with a weak smile. The amount of processing your mind is trying to get through right now has you nearly feeling dizzy.

“I’m going to talk to Rayna, we’ll take care of everything, make sure you don’t have to work with that asshole again.”

Your entire face softens at her proposition and the care behind it. You throw your arms around her, squeezing her tightly into a hug that she returns with equal enthusiasm. “Thank you,” you murmur into her shoulder.

“Who should we call? Joel?” she asks, pulling out of the hug, and your eyes go wide, realizing you’ll have to explain all of this to Joel. “I don’t want you to drive right now, but we’re all way too tipsy to drive you anywhere right now.”

“Y-yeah, I’ll call him,” you say, swallowing hard. Leah steps away to give you privacy and heads back to the table full of your coworkers, close enough to keep an eye on you. You can see the immediate reaction from all of them, leaning in close as she explains what’s going on. You take out your phone, pulling up Joel’s contact information.

“Hey, baby.” He picks up on the second ring, his voice smooth and relaxed as he greets you, the juxtaposition to your own mood making you clam up suddenly.

“Hey…” you say timidly. Use your words, you chant to yourself internally.

“What’s goin’ on? You off work?”

“Uh, yeah, I am. I just… can you come get me?”

“Of course,” he says without missing a beat, his tone sobering up to match yours a bit more. “What’s wrong, darlin’?”

“There was… something happened with a coworker, and I’m kind of tipsy, I just can’t drive right now.”

“Already on my way,” he says, and you hear his keys jingling in the background as he opens the door to his car and starts it. “What happened? Please, sweetheart, talk to me ‘fore I go crazy with wonderin’.”

“He… tried to come on to me. I-I don’t know what he was going to do to me…” you say, feeling robotic as the words come out of you.

“What. Happened.” Joel’s voice is at an angry staccato now, and you can picture his hands gripping the wheel tightly as he panics at your words.

“N-nothing did happen. Just a close call. Hurt my back a little bit, I think,” you tell him, feeling the ache in your back reminding you just how hard Vince had handled you at one point.

“Fucking hell, baby,” Joel says with a deep sigh. “I’m comin’ to you. Are you somewhere safe?”

You nod, your eyes feeling hazy and tired all of a sudden, then remember he can’t see you right now. “Yes, I’m safe. I’m inside with everyone else.”

“Good. Stay there ‘til I can get to you. Send me the address, baby, okay? I’m comin’,” Joel says.

“O-okay,” you say quietly, ending the call and texting Joel the name of the bar as quickly as you can.

Your coworkers comfort you in the meantime, seconding Leah’s promise that you won’t have to see Vince anymore. They’re all dumbstruck, not having seen it coming that he could act like that, but you just shrug, wondering if there were some red flags you’d missed trying to be a kind, welcoming person to him.

Joel pulls up in his truck in record time, tires screeching in front of the bar. He texts you that he’s arrived and you go out the door but freeze when you see Vince still sitting on the curb. Joel tries waving you over as he gets out of his truck, but he follows your eyeline to Vince and you sense his energy change immediately, even from afar. Vince scrambles up, clearly having sobered up in the last half hour or so as he sat here feeling sorry for himself. When he sees Joel, he fills in the blanks that you’ve told him what happened, and realizes just how intimidatingly big Joel is up close.

“Is this the one?” he asks, cocking his head and not taking his eyes off of Vince, who is now slowly backing away.

“Shit, I - I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, I’m stupid and drunk, s-swear,” he sputters out before you can even answer. Joel doesn’t back down, reaching Vince more quickly than he’s expecting and grabbing him by the shirt collar.

“You see that fucking girl over there? Hm?” Joel says, using his other hand to grab Vince’s chin and point his head in your direction. You stand, teeth grinding together anxiously as you watch this unfold in front of you. “Don’t you ever fuckin’ talk to her again, or even think ‘bout her, for that matter. You leave her the hell alone. You got it?” Joel forcefully turns Vince’s head back to look him in the eye.

Vince gulps visibly and closes his eyes as they meet Joel’s, nodding. “Jesus man, just let me go. All I did was try to talk to her.” Vince squeals as Joel’s grip tightens on him. You feel yourself tense with anger at his lie, knowing that things could have gotten much worse if you hadn’t landed that kick on him and gotten away when you did, or if Leah hadn’t shown up to check on you.

“We both know that ain’t true,” Joel tuts. “She owes you absolutely fuckin’ nothin’, don’t forget that. In case you get any ideas again,” Joel says, releasing both of his hands and letting Vince fall back.

“C’mon, darlin’. Let’s get out of here,” Joel says, his voice completely changed, soft and warm in your direction as he rushes over and takes you into his arms, guiding you to his car. You shoot a last, bitter glance at Vince, who is running his hand through his hair, turning to walk away. The frustration he has at himself is clearly visible in the way he’s carrying himself now. You almost want to feel sorry for him, knowing he made such a big mistake, and he does seem to regret it. But you can’t feel that sorry when you know he was stopped short, not knowing just how far he would’ve gone to get what he was searching for tonight. Maybe he was more sorry he got caught, you wonder. You sigh, shaking your head at the sight of him before climbing into Joel’s truck. Good fucking riddance.

Joel speeds off, hands gripping the wheel tightly as you cruise down the highway, back towards his house. You finally feel the pure disappointment of the situation sink in on you, heavy and burdensome on your soul.

“I said nothing happened… but that’s not true. He tried to kiss me,” you say. “Well, he did, I guess. He did kiss me. And tried…my shirt…” you trail off, feeling your eyes glaze over a little as you try to recount every detail of what went down, finding that it’s making you feel immediately sick.

Joel’s body tenses even further next to you, so tight that you worry he might snap at any moment. “S’okay, baby. It’s all over now,” he says, amazingly calm and controlled for the way his body language is screaming the very opposite. You resort to staring out the window for the duration of the drive back, watching the familiar sights as you enter into the suburbs, finding a small comfort in the routine of it all.

He brings you inside of your apartment instead of his house, immediately getting you settled on your bed. He starts to dig through your drawers, muttering to himself.

“Where is it…” he says quietly, before finally pulling out a white shirt, then grabbing a pair of pajama shorts.

“Alright, let’s put these on, okay?” Joel says, handing you the t-shirt of his he gave you weeks ago, the Texas Longhorns one you love so much. You grip it to your chest and feel the ghost of a smile on your lips for the first time in what feels like hours.

You change out of your work clothes and into the pajamas Joel had brought over to you, already feeling a sliver better just having some of your comfort clothing hugging your body now. The shirt had long since stopped smelling like Joel, but the presence of him emanating from it was more than enough. Joel sits down gingerly next to you, snuggling you into his chest.

“What do you need, baby? Anything at all,” he says quietly, the deep rumble of his chest near you another comforting balm to your weariness.

“Just… be here with me. That was so… fucking scary. I’m so angry, but I also… feel like I can’t even feel anything right now. Why did he…?” You exhale long and slow. “Did I miss some sign that this would happen? Was I too busy trying to be fucking nice to him? Trying to be agreeable with everyone at work when he’d make comments?”

“No, of course not, darlin’. You’re a sweet girl, you are. But that ain’t what brought this on. That’s all on him,” Joel assures you, shaking his head in frustration at the situation.

“He asked me out, Joel. Weeks ago. I said no, of course,” you start, shooting Joel an affirming glance. “He’s made some comments since then, nothing crazy. I thought he’d moved on from it, but sometimes he’d… take things too far. Comments about my looks, what I was wearing. I shouldn’t have ignored it.”

“It’s not on you to decide all of that. He was the one who did it, not you. Best not to analyze yourself to death, we’d be here all night pickin’ it all apart, wouldn’t we? Let’s just focus on movin’ on, gettin’ you feelin’ better for right now.” Joel holds you for a few moments before shifting where he sits.

“Want me to run you a bath? Get you somethin’ to eat? Watch shitty TV with you? Anything, please, baby, I’m at a loss here.” Joel holds you tightly, seemingly afraid to let go of his grip on you, worried if he does, the fragile thing he’s seeing you as right now will fall apart completely.

“It’s okay, Joel. You don’t always have to have all the answers,” you say, smiling a little at how hard he’s trying right now. “You already did so much - coming to get me, being there for me right now. Thank you.”

“Oh, you’re welcome darlin’,” Joel says. “Why don’t you shower, and I’ll get this bed all ready for us to watch some Lover’s Paradise, how’s that sound?”

You crack another much needed smile and tell him it sounds great, heading to the bathroom to take an overly hot shower, trying to scrub the frustration off of your body as you let the hot water pummel your skin. Joel was right, you do feel better after stepping out of the steamy bathroom all lotioned up in your favorite scent and back in his t-shirt, opting to go without the shorts this time. You’ve found that you feel sexiest in just his shirt like this, and you’re feeling the need for some of that confidence right now.

“Look at ya, all fresh and pretty,” Joel says with a playful wink, and you practically launch yourself at him where he lays propped up on your bed, latching yourself onto his body, wrapping your limbs around him as much as possible.

“I grabbed snacks, sorry for raidin’ your cabinets,” Joel says, showing you the things he’d pulled from your growing candy and sweets collection. You snatch the Twizzlers bag from his hand and pull one out, munching at it absentmindedly as Joel flicks the TV back to life, having already pulled up an episode of Lover’s Paradise for you two.

“This is all perfect Joel, thank you,” you say, looking up from where your head rests at the crook of his neck to find his eyes.

“You feelin’ any better?” he asks.

You nod with a small smile, finding that the sting from tonight has lessened a bit with all of his care. Joel lets you just be - eating candy and throwing comments at the screen while you two watch animatedly, laughing at all the romantic drama the contestants find themselves entangled in.

“Remember the first time we did this, first time I came over here?” Joel asks suddenly into your silence after you’ve finished two episodes.

“Mhm,” you mutter sleepily, nodding into his chest.

“Knew you’d ruin me for sure that night,” he says with a small chuckle. “When we said we’d stay on each other’s minds, promised to keep doin’ all this. I was done for.”

“I knew the minute I saw you mowing your stupid lawn,” you say with a laugh shared by Joel. “So fucking hot,” you murmur, shaking your head at the memory.

“You thought so? Maybe I was puttin’ on a little show for you,” Joel says cheekily.

“Knew it, nobody looks that good mowing their lawn unless it’s to impress somebody,” you reply, tracing a hand down Joel’s torso. You place a few kisses onto his chest with the fabric of his t-shirt in the way, and your hand snakes even lower to his belt line, fiddling with his waistband tantalizingly.

“Baby... Never wanna say no to ya, but I think you should just rest tonight. Look at you, barely keepin’ your eyes open right now.”

Joel’s right, you are half asleep, but right now you just want to feel good. You know he can give that to you in an instant, he can turn your world upside down with his fingers or tongue or cock, and you’ll forget all about the shit that went down tonight. He could give that to you, but you know that after it’s all said and done, you’ll still have to process all the emotions you’re feeling, so you opt to simply nod your head in agreement with Joel.

“Fine. First thing tomorrow, though. Want you to make me feel good,” you say quietly, your face smushed into his chest.

“Promise, baby, first thing this cock is all yours,” Joel replies with an amused chuckle. “Don’t think you know what you’re askin’ for,” he adds quickly with a lower, darker tone. You pause, realizing that Joel is asking for consent in his own way, making sure what he has in mind is alright so that he doesn’t cross any boundaries you aren’t willing to. You feel a swell of pride and respect that he wants to do that for you, especially after what happened tonight.

“I know exactly what I’m asking for,” you reply, and Joel’s lips curl up into a devious smile.

And so you begin counting the minutes until you can sleep, knowing what awaits you when you wake is going to be very worth the wait.

taglist: @paleidiot @mumma-moonchild @soph55 @chicville03 @joelsversion @feliciab1990 @fellinfromthetop @gossipgirl-03 @sarap-77 @blueseastorm

sorry some of the tags were being weird i tried my best i’m kinda new to tag lists! message to let me know if yours didn’t work i’m sorry!

#TY FOR YOUR PATIENCE LOVE U ALL #fic: closer #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader

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hauntedhokage · 8 months

Text

Day 1: Pegging

Bakugou Katsuki/F!Reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: pegging, mentions of edging, use of “cock” referring to the dildo

[Kinktober masterlist] | {ao3} | [tumblr masterlist] | {ko-fi}

He needed to relax.

Fucking you stupid to vent the tension out was unfortunately not the solution this time, as he’d tried that last night and still couldn’t fucking sleep. You had slept like a goddamn baby, but watching you sleep was only truly relaxing if he was well rested and, since he wasn’t, he was just truly fucking irritated for the rest of the night. Was it too much to ask that he feel truly relaxed and sleep for longer than 45 minutes before he has to go watch TV on low volume in a desperate attempt to at least doze with a chess tournament trying to put him to sleep? Apparently so.

Which called for the roles to be reversed: he needed to get fucked stupid and you knew exactly what he meant when he said it during dinner with pink cheeks and a tired scowl. The poor guy needed it badly, thankfully you knew just what to do.

And you greatly appreciate the view of the number one hero laying face down in the middle of the bed and trying his best to relax into the mattress that you walk in on when you leave the bathroom just a couple hours after you’ve eaten. He was making your job easy for you, but you could still make him work for it a little bit.

“That bruise is new.” You can’t help but point out, gently grazing the angry red mark on his side just above his hip. Vaguely shaped like the heel of a boot, which tells you exactly which superfriend had gotten him so good. “Tell Midoriya to ease up in training or I’ll give him a few fresh ones.”

“We can deal with that later. Please just fuck me already.”

“You’re so bossy.” Even still, you’re uncapping the lube and watching with a small smile as he starts to squirm beneath you. “But you wanna do it doggy? Don’t wanna look at me?”

“Prep is easier for you like this. Flip me over after so I don’t fuck up the sheets.”

“You say that as if you haven’t already been prepping,” you comment, gently tugging on the plug nicely hidden between his cheeks and grinning at the pleasured hiss that leaves him. “You really kill the fun sometimes.”

“You like fingering my asshole?”

“I like teasing you when I do. Getting you all worked up is half of why this works so well to get you right.”

“Didn’t want you to have to hold back, just wanted - fuuuck-“ the groan that leaves him as you ease the plug out makes you feel giddy. All of this was in your hands, only you had his trust to see him like this while wearing a comically bright pink strap on. “You do that shit on purpose.”

“Yeah.” And you’re putting some of the lube on his mostly prepped hole, relishing in the quiet hiss that leaves him at the cool sensation before two of your fingers are working to spread the lube around and inside. “I dunno, baby, it’s nice when you’re quiet.”

“Rude.”

“As if that was news to you.”

“Maybe I’ll put out a request for someone nice to fuck me stupid.”

“I’m very nice to you.” You curl your fingers as you say that, pulling a stuttered curse from your blonde lover as your free hand starts to spread lube over the dildo strapped to your hips. “See? Treatin’ you real sweet.”

If he had a coherent train of thought, you’re sure he’d be telling you to fuck off right about now. But instead he’s just watching you over his shoulder, complying when you remove your fingers and use them to gesture for him to turn over. He’s careful to avoid kicking you as he does, and you watch as he adjusts the placement of his hips on the pillow.

Your hand not holding the dildo carefully holds his thigh, trying to massage the muscles to help him relax more as you push forward with the dildo. This was a well practiced dance, he knew exactly how to keep himself to make it easy and you appreciated that he’d learned to let go of his need to control the situation when it came to getting pegged.

“How’s it feeling?” you question softly as you’re finally fully sheathed, your hips pressed to the firm muscles of his ass as you watch him soak in the feeling of being so stuffed full.

“Fucking great, but just please fuck me.”

He was already desperate, meaning that he definitely did more than just prep himself with the plug. He’d definitely edged himself; for how long you wouldn’t know until he told you, since he got desperate after just a few minutes of delay. But ultimately you were going to give him what he needed, since he asked so nicely.

“You look so pretty taking my cock like this,” you praise, getting only a groan in response when you finally start to move. You know he wants fast and rough, and you’d give him that for sure, but you need to be careful with the number one hero and he knows that just as well as you did. You’re glad that he’s got his legs up, your hands on his thighs keeping them where you wanted them and not allowing him to try to hook a leg around you to guide your movements. He was mostly in charge, but not really.

“I can take it, babe, you know I can. Fuck me already.”

“How badly do you want it?” you ask, leaning forward a bit and smiling when he flips you off. “That’s not being very nice, Kats.”

“Baby~” Oh, that was the most pathetic sound you’d ever heard from the blonde. A performance like that needed to be rewarded, and that has you picking up your pace in hopes of hearing more desperate whines from him. “Fuck, that’s it.”

“Just like this?”

“Need your hand.” You’d normally deny a request like that so soon, but this puts you in true control over his orgasm and you’re taking a gentle hold of his cock. The groan that leaves him is music to your ears and you choose to stroke him slowly as you continue to fuck into him roughly. You can’t hear yourself think over how loud he is, and you know he’s not thinking at all as his hands grip the sheets beneath him. The mission had been achieved - you’d managed to fuck him stupid.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum,” he warns, and you nod your understanding and encouragement while continuing to work his body and trying your best to keep the pace of your strokes steady even as your thrusts get harder. “Goddamn, I – shit – please don’t stop.”

“Not until you’re spent,” you assure, watching with a smile as he finally lets himself go. He really was pretty as his hips jerk against yours, face red as his cum releases onto his stomach and chest until finally he relaxes back into the mattress - breathless, spent, and completely content. “Atta boy.”

He only hums, letting you pull out and watching through half lidded eyes as you slide off the bed and move towards the bathroom. When you return, it’s not directly to the bed and he’s not pleased if the grunt that leaves him is any indicator. But his hand catches yours as you try to walk away again, what follows is only more surprising.

“Get up here.” The request has you looking at him with interest, giving his hand a squeeze when he tries to pull. “On my face.”

“How are you not exhausted?”

“My body’s useless, but I can still eat you out. Now get up here, brat.”

#kinktober 23 #bakugou katsuki fanfic #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo imagine #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou smut

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la-fille-en-aiguilles · 2 years

Text

Deadmen Don’t Get Up

(Deadmen Got No Luck, part II)

Steve Harrington x Henderson!Female!Reader

I suppose the cat is out of the bag now, so here’s a more straightforward synopsis (I ADVISE YOU DO NOT READ IT IF YOU HAVEN’T READ THE 1ST PART YET): this is a Steve Harrington AU, in which after a mission gone wrong, you are thrust into a world where you’re a rising actress playing yourself in a series called Stranger Things... which retraces the past year of your life almost down to a T. Now you have to figure out what happened, but most importantly - what’s real and what isn’t.

New to the series? Try fighting Vecna here.

Gif not mine.

Waking up feels like stepping down from a carousel. You slowly open your unfocused eyes, your vision blurry, and for a moment all you can hear is ringing in your ears. Your brain is a flat battery, refusing to collaborate. You think you hear yourself exhale, your body feeling heavy, like a brunt you didn’t choose to bear.

After a while - minutes? hours? - you realize you’re lying on something soft, head toward an impeccably white ceiling. Your eyelids are leaden, but you’re doing your best to stay awake and focus on something - anything.

You’re about to throw in the towel (Is this what dying feels like? Like you’re a giant grilled marshmallow, dripping all over the place, dissolving into surrounding surfaces?), when a blurry silhouette comes into view, and you’re hit with a sharp, heady smell…

Something like kerosene. Or alcohol?

“Hey,” a woman, standing perched over you, softly speaks. You blink what feels like a thousand times before you can actually make out her face. She’s in her mid-thirties, blue eyes, wavy blonde hair tucked away in a ponytail.

She’s also wearing white scrubs, and the bright colour is making your eyes water.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, laying her cool palm on your forehead for a moment, checking for fever.

“Alive,” you say, barely articulating, your mouth dry as sawdust. You force yourself into yet another blinking session, just to make sure your body responds the way you want to.

For the next step, you try to raise your right hand to your face, and as your fingers rub your forehead, you feel something rough and patchy glued to it.

“Take it easy,” the woman hurries over to you from somewhere above you, where you can’t see, and softly takes your wrist, forcing you to lower your hand. “You hit your head pretty hard when you collapsed. Gave your friends a scare of their life, you know that?”

Friends.

Robin. Nancy. Steve.

What happened to them? Did they get out? Are they hurt? Is Vecna dead?

Instinctively, your hands fly to your chest and you press your palms against where your wound should be.

Or rather, should have been, because there’s nothing there. Just an expanse of a cotton t-shirt on smooth skin, and total absence of pain.

“Where is…” you groan in an attempt to tie your words together, still too weary to form a coherent sentence.

“Joe?” the woman supplies, thinking she’s being helpful.

Who the fuck is Joe?

“Which one?” she continues, same soft expression on her face. “Quinn or Keery?”

Jesus H Christ, what is she on about?!

“Steve?” you whisper, and make an attempt to sit down, leaning on your hand pressed into what seems to be a bed.

Images of Steve throwing the Molotov cocktail at Vecna flashes before your eyes; the way the fire reflected in his chocolate irises… Your heart twists.

“Keery it is, then,” the nurse smiles sweetly, oblivious to what you’re going through. “He’s outside with the gang. Do you want me to call them all in?”

“No”, you blurt out, your eyes growing wide. What gang?! “Just him. Please”.

The nurse nods slowly, her brows now furrowed in suspicion as she gives you an assessing look.

“I need to ask you a couple of questions before I can call him, okay?”

Your insides grow cold as the realisation of how dangerous this situation you’ve gotten yourself into might be finally seeps into your cotton-like brain.

You have no idea where you are, and you don’t know how you got here. You are supposed to be dead. There’s a woman in a some kind of a bedroom with you, and she’s dressed like a doctor. Or a scientist.

Like - a scientist from the goddamn Hawkins Lab, for example.

Before you can properly panic and whip your retarded brain into a frenzy, your stubbornness kicks in. You refuse to play victim, and feel scared. Instead, you sit down fully in your bed, your legs stretched out (at least you’re not tied up or anything, you notice) and you face the woman head on.

“I want to see him”, you tell her, your eyes narrowed. “Ask me whatever the hell you want, but I want him with me”.

Looking a little surprised at the intensity of your request, the pretty doctor throws her hands up in the air, as if saying, as you wish.

As she steps out of the room, you hear her heels click on the floor, the echo of her steps becoming quieter and quieter.

In a blink of an eye, you’re on your feet, taking in your surroundings.

You’re still dressed in the same clothes you were wearing at Vecna’s lair, but all your ammunition seems gone. You scan the room with your eyes, desperately searching for something even remotely resembling a weapon. You fail spectacularly.

The room is spacious, arranged in soft peach and lilac colours, with bouquets of flowers popping up here and there. It looks like a normal room: high heeled shoes thrown in the corner, make up littering the vanity on your right, and a half-open door leading to a small walk-in closet.

Either Hawkins Lab got some funding to transform its rooms into 5 star accommodation, or you’re not in Hawkins Lab. Just when you decide in favour of the second guess, the pretty doctor reappears in the doorway…

…and your wide eyes meet Steve’s.

His chocolate orbs are warm and worried, as he steps into the room cautiously as if afraid to scare you off. He’s wearing a simple white t-shirt and a pair of jeans with a strange cut, his hair a bit messy, as if he’s been brushing his fingers through it nervously for the past couple of hours.

Your heart hammers in your chest at the sight, and you force yourself to keep the waterworks at bay.

“Hi”, you say quietly, not taking your eyes off him.

It prompts him to give you a genuine, soft smile, even though his shoulders still seem a little tense.

“Hey, love”, he says gently, stepping closer.

Biting on the inside of your cheek, you consider your options; but then your heart wins, and you spread your arms wide, going for a hug.

It’s so subtle, you almost miss it. A second-long hesitation in Steve’s eyes, a touch-and-go sentiment of confusion making him pause for a moment.

When you land into his arms, he doesn’t squeeze you hard, like you would expect him to. His touch is cursory, as if he’s afraid to impose.

Something is off. Seriously off.

“Do you mind if Joe stays here while I ask you a couple of questions?” The beautiful nurse is in your view, while you chin rests on Steve’s shoulder.

For God’s sake!

“Who’s Joe?” you ask purposefully, weakening your hold on Steve, as you look first at the very confused nurse, then at a downright shocked Steve, as he still keeps near, but stares at you like you’ve grown horns.

Before either of you can say anything, the nurse steps closer, her expression a little amused.

“Let’s start from the beginning, love,” she suggests as she takes your hand and leads you back to the bed. You sit down on the very edge of it, as she motions for Steve to join you both, pointing at a beautiful baby blue chair at the foot of the bed.

“What do you remember about your day?” she looks at you attentively, trying to read your face.

I made weapons out of bottles filled with kerosene and then went to Upside Down to kill that asshole Vecna and save the world.

“Uh- Not much”, for some reason, you feel like this is a safer option. “What should I remember?”

It’s a trick and it’s not very subtle. The nurse nods at you, amusement still present on her face.

“I’ll tell you in a minute”, she reassures. “What about… Do you remember what year it is?”

You start to open your mouth because of course you know the answer to that one, but then you halt at the very last second.

Something tells you that it’s not as easy as it seems.

Because - no matter how headstrong you may be - your brain is apparently hardwired into seeking out that someone who you know will protect you from all evil and danger - you turn to face Steve, searching his face for an answer. He’s picking at his lips with his fingers, his shoulders tense again, as he leans forward. Your gazes lock, and there’s a prayer in the depth of his eyes.

“I don’t know”, you answer at last, not able to break the eye contact; it feels as if you were to look away from him, this entire world would fall apart. At the same time, a strange thought crosses your mind, as you take in his frown - you catch yourself missing the soft lines around his eyes when he smiles.

“I have no idea”, you mutter, and then you’re turning back to face the nurse. She nods again.

She stands up from where she was sitting beside you, and smoothes out her skirt.

“Joe here tells me that you collapsed right in the middle of shooting the Stranger Things finale. Neither of your colleagues and friends saw what exactly happened, you just seemed to faint. You fell and hit your head pretty hard on the floor”.

You’re listening to her carefully, trying to keep your mouth from falling open. At her last words, your hand flies up to your forehead.

‘Yes, we had to patch you up a little bit. We should be able to take the stitches out in a couple of days, don’t worry”, she smiles again.

Shooting? Stranger Things? Stitching?… What?!

“Now, it would seem that you have no recollection of your day. I’m not too worried about that, to be honest, this sometimes happens when you get a slight concussion”, you swear you see her lips move, but you are really struggling to understand. “But the fact that you can’t recall what year it is, it’s a little more alarming”.

You frown at her words. Would you be better off telling her it’s 1986? For some reason, this feels like a faux pas in advance. You bite down on your bottom lip in concentration and let your eyes wander.

Your gaze falls on a stack of papers on the floor at the foot of the bed, and you almost have to make a double take.

“2021?!” You exclaim, reading the date printed there, your eyes dashing to her face.

You don’t know what scares you more. The fact that that’s what’s written on the paper, or the fact that the nurse’s face suddenly lights up and she nods frantically.

Fucking hell!

“Yes, that’s right”, she says happily. “You got it”.

%!’(§&(%+*!!!

“Uh- Love?” Joe? Steve? Whoever the fuck this is, interrupts your mental tirade, as he clears his throat. “Joe really wants to see you. He’s been worried sick”.

You stare at him, half dumbfounded, half as if he’s suddenly grown a dick out of his forehead.

Seriously, now?! How many fucking Joes are out there?!

You have apparently died and somehow got resurrected in the future, where every man’s name is Joe. Not Joseph or Joel, not even Joey. JOE.

Getting uncomfortable under your blatant stare, Joe / Steve shifts in his seat.

“Joe Quinn?” He supplies with the same stupid confidence like it is supposed to make all the sense in the world to you.

That’s when the last of your braincells give out, screaming, and you know you need space before you lose your mind once and for all.

“I- I need a breather”, you bury your face in your cupped hands, your mind running hundred miles a minute. “I can’t do this right now”.

“I can’t do this right now,” you hear your own voice ring in your ears, and all of the sudden, all you see is Steve, his eyes pleading, his heart slowly breaking at your feet as flecks of dust float in the air around the two of you.

You’re standing up and you’re heaving a breath, your ribcage feeling like it shrinks with every passing second. Joe / Steve / Jesus - whatever the fuck he’s called! jumps up as well, next to you in a matter of seconds. He’s holding your elbow softly, as if not daring to overstep, to make it more intimate, and that shy touch makes you want to tear your hair out.

But then your eyes find his, and you’re nodding in permission - and this is all he needs to wrap you into a warm embrace again - so strange but also quickly becoming familiar.

“She needs someone to stay with her tonight”, you hear the nurse say. “Make sure to pass the message to her PA so they can make the suitable arrangements. I left medications on the kitchen table…”

“I’ll stay with her”, you feel the rumble of Steve’s (goddamnit! - Joe’s!) chest and it comforts you more than it should.

It’s then and there that you decide - fuck it. Whatever his name is, this man looks like Steve and is just as protective of you as the real one. Whatever comfort he can provide, you’ll take it.

For the next few hours, you’re the definition of an ostrich. Head in the sand, pretending like nothing strange is happening - the less attention you get right now, the better.

Call it a survival instinct. The pretty nurse doesn’t leave without making you swallow a bunch of painkillers (which you keep under your tongue and promptly spit out after excusing yourself to go to a bathroom). She promises to stop by and check on you tomorrow before walking out. Joe Keery (this world’s Steve Harrington-look alike, the fact you’re still trying to wrap your head around) guides you to a beautifully decorated, be it tiny kitchen, and without speaking as much as a word, whips you a delicious sandwich with salmon and avocado.

“Come on, love, you gotta eat a little somethin’,” he says pushing a plate in your direction.

Deciding that if he wanted to kill you, he wasted a million of chances already, you grab the sandwich and sink your teeth in it.

“This is finger-licking good”, you inform him with your mouth full, and he flashes you a smile so bright, you almost fall of a chair.

(You did almost fall off a chair, but rather because of how weary and tired and overwhelmed you feel).

“Does your head hurt?” he asks, watching you devour the food. You shake your head no at him, but he doesn’t seem convinced.

Joe watches you with a deep frown, and the minute you finish eating, he helps you off the bar stool and is guiding you back into what appears to be your room. He gently nudges you towards the bed, and you obey, sitting down on its edge, arms hanging awkwardly between your knees.

“You should call your parents,” he says, pointing at something on the vanity. Your eyes follow. “Tell them you’re alright”.

You don’t say anything right away, just stare in a daze at the mirror perched on the top of the vanity table.

You look different. Your hair is messy, but it’s softer, framing your face in smooth, shiny waves. You skin is glowing, slightly sun-kissed and smooth, not a scar in sight. Your lashes are long and silky, and there’s something… carefree and brilliant about the way you look. Except for your eyes.

These big eyes, looking like they’ve seen hell and then some, do not belong on the face of the girl who’s staring back at you.

“I’m going to run to my trailer real quick,” Joe says slowly, and you kind of hate that tone, because it comes to show that he’s confused. It feels like everything about you is confusing him. When your head whips to face him, he smiles, be it a little uneasy. Still, his smile could move mountains. “I’ll be back in a few. Pinky promise, not going to leave you to fend for yourself”.

You can’t help but chuckle at his words, as you turn away.

“That’s alright,” you say in a tone lighter than you actually feel. “I’ll grab a shower while you’re out”.

All of the sudden, this interaction feels almost too normal. You know that Joe thinks the same thing, as he hesitates for a moment. But then he’s on his feet and only stops by the door to throw a glance at you over his shoulder.

“Please be careful while I’m away. Don’t do anything… drastic”, he adds.

You roll your eyes at him.

“You mean like try and drown myself in the shower? Here goes my plans”, you bite back jokingly, as he shakes his head.

“Alright, okay”, he says more to himself as he walks out. “You’re going to be okay”.

The minute the door closes behind him, you spring into action. You rush to the desk in the opposite corner of the room, rummaging unceremoniously through its different compartments.

It’s all paper, pens, lipsticks and sticky notes, until you get a hold of what looks like a soft leather pouch. When you unzip it, you catch a passport, a driving license and a bunch of other papers staring back at you.

With a deep sigh, you flip the passport open.

Jesus H. Christ.

You twist the document around, making sure it’s your face on it. Oh, it certainly is, be it looking fresher, and prettier. You groan, slapping the passport against your forehead.

Your name is Love.

That’s why they wouldn’t stop calling you that - it wasn’t a little sign of affection, oh no. This was your goddamn name.

You died, and got put back on this Earth, in the future, armed with a name of a goddamn pornstar.

(In all honestly, you’d take Joe for a name over Love any fucking day. No matter how many of them is out there already).

Love Breming D’Amilino. 20 years old.

You assumed that in this reality, your parents didn’t love you very much.

This is when you recall Joe’s comment about calling your parents.

Discarding your passport and other documents on the table, you walk up to the vanity, where you don’t spot any phones.

Unless, you think, picking up this weird mirror-like object…

You jump up and yelp as the thin piece of mirrored metal starts vibrating in your hands, some kind of melody seeping out of it. Unfortunately, you don’t drop it, and something strange happens as the words “Face ID” flash on its surface.

Next second you know, two middle-aged strangers are staring at you questioningly.

“Fucking hell!” you yelp again, dropping the thing on the floor and speeding out of the room like the carpet is on fire.

You keep hearing voices as their echo follows you, until you reach the front door of the trailer (you figured, this is where you were, when Joe mentioned running over to one of his own - you must be in some kind of a trailer park).

The strangers voices’ dissipate, and get replaced by other two, much more familiar this time around.

You carefully turn the doorknob to pull the front door open, merely an inch.

Your heart skips a beat as you see your brother at the foot of the stairs leading to the trailer, with Joe’s / Steve’s back turned to you.

“Dustin”, you whisper, and the pinching in your nose is ever present. You have to grip the doorframe to keep yourself from running out to him; you push the urge down with all your might, commanding yourself to focus on the conversation instead.

“…she’s pretty out of it, I guess”, Joe runs his hand through his thick mane of hair, pushing it back. And there is something so Steve about him, your heart aches. You force your eyes shut and take a second to breathe.

“I think-“ he stops himself mid-sentence, as if weighting his words. “I think she really thought I was him, man, when she first woke up”.

“Him?” Your brother - or, rather, his doppelgänger, echoes, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Oh come on, Gaten”, Joe shakes his head in frustration before putting his hands on his hips, trying to fake a confident stance. “She thought I was Steve”. As soon as his words reach you, you freeze, not sure what to do. So they both know who Steve is. Your Steve. But how? Do they know about Dustin? And Robin? And you?!

How’s any of this possible?

“Woah”, the boy looking like your brother all but voices your thoughts. “That’s pretty effed up, huh?” Effed up. Effed up.

Somewhere in the universe (if it still even exists), you brother Dustin - mouth of a sailor - just had a seizure.

“You’re telling me,” Joe sighs, looking to a side, and you can feel wheels turning in his head. “How’s Quinn?” He suddenly asks. “I swear I’ve got no idea why it’s me that she- you know, wants around right now. I don’t know what’s happening, man”.

Even as you watch him from behind, Joe - Steve - looks so uncomfortable and stressed, you have half a mind to walk out, wrap your hands around him from behind and be the one to tell him that he is going to be okay for a change.

“Neither does he,” Gaten, as you learned, sighs. “He’s pretty out of it too, I guess”.

A heavy pause hangs between them for a minute, until Joe’s back tenses, and he speaks again.

“She’s sitting there with a concussion, man - there’s no way I’m leaving her, even if I have to hurt somebody’s feelings. For as long as she wants me to, I’m staying”, his tone is firm and non-compromising. “Besides, I’m sure she’ll get better by tomorrow. It will all sort itself out, yeah?”

Uh, you (almost?) died and somehow ended up here, in some fucked-up version of the future, and it seems you’re surrounded by people you swear you know, but whom you’ve also never met.

Unless this mindfuck has an expiration date, nothing will sort itself out.

Not without your help.

With this realization, you decide you’ve heard enough, pulling away from the door to go and mull over everything in the burning hot shower you desperately need. But Gaten’s next words stop you.

“What about you, man?”, the boy says, sympathy in his voice almost tangible. “This must be an effing torture for you… To be with her like that without actually being, you know…”

Gaten gestures towards Joe for a lack of words.

Your throat tightens for some reason, your heartbeat a wild and determined creature trying to claw its way out of your ribcage. Your mind doesn’t dare to guess what these words mean; while your heart has already figured it out.

“It doesn’t matter”, Joe responds curtly. “She’s the priority right now”. He says right now, but it sounds a hell of a lot like always.

Now you are sure you’ve heard enough.

As silently as you can, you retreat back-first into the corridor, and slip behind the bathroom door that you’ve identified earlier.

As you stand under scalding hot shower, your mind is a raging hurricane of questions, recent discoveries, emotions and guesses.

You may not know how you ended up here; nor have you any idea where this is, exactly.

All you know is, dead or alive, in 1986 or in 2021, small town girl or some kind of a frugal actress with a pornstar name…

Could it be?

Steve Harrington - across space and time - is always some sort of in love with you.

Always.

(Amazing, beautiful, fantastic) tag list: @vulgarfuckinvirgo, @carpediem1219, @555stargirl555, @rqmanoff, @mvaldez7821.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x henderson!reader #Steve Harrington x female reader #steve harrington au #stranger things au

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courfeyracs-swordcane · 7 months

Note

💌 :3

OH, YOU WANNA DO THIS? WE CAN FUCKIN DO THIS!!!!! Do not make three mouth at me we can fuckin do this

I am once again saying that Tumblr Mutual is an incredibly funny way to refer to you, my boyfriend from real life, but let’s GO. (Also note from the future it’s 1am and I did 100% kind of lose coherence halfway through this. However,)

Right off the bat. INCREDIBLY cool I’ve been saying this for years now and if you poke me when I finished typing this I can pull up receipts. Top ten Coolest Guys I’ve Ever Met in the most stereotypical definition of that word possible. Yk. The vibes are off the charts

We’ve covered how you’re gorgeous but I’ll do it again now that I don’t have to hold back: god FUCKING damn. god FUCKING DAMN!!!!! and also your VOICE what the FUCK you sing so goddamn well and I’m really really normal about it?? ALSO AGAIN. INCREDIBLY FUN TO DO MAKEUP ON EVEN FOR NON GAY REASONS. also the SKIPPING and the swinging my hand at knotts you’re literally adorable Jesus Christ

also I love the way you care about people— the way you remember things they say and like and are and bring them back up?? I just think that’s very cool (top ten things I can’t remember if I ever wound up saying but have been thinking since you started sending Cy zine apps)(also you held my hand and pointed out all the scare actors and I love you for that)

ALSO. ONE LINERS GUY. POETRY GUY. HOLY FUCKING SHIT. you’re so goddamn good with words I don’t think I’ll ever be over it!!! (also. Definitely never gonna be over hearing you read them. Agh.)

Also. Relatedly. you’re fucking hilarious. All the time. I laugh so much around you.

Good taste in music. Good taste in media. Good taste in vibes and aesthetics. Good taste in blorbos both store bought and homemade. Incredibly chewy takes on all the above. Incredibly fun to talk to about all of them. 10/10

INCREDIBLE hugs also and very very comfortable to put my head on and also YOU CAN PICK ME UP WHAT THE HELL. WHAT THE HELL. what the hell. That’s my job!!! Also you’re WARM?

Also this is not so much a you problem but you have really cool coworkers 10/10

We are setting aside all of the synesthesia shit you do to my brain until it’s not 1am and I can describe it better but you’re so down there you’re so in the dark and in the blue and in the red swirly and there’s the big light coming down and clouds around the moon and maybe a beast that’s too big to even see. TLDR. The Big Deep Dazzling Dark. that’s you. Honorific.

Top ten guys to hang out with ever also if you haven’t gotten that from the. Everything. Where’s the quote about knowing you can get along with someone if you can sit comfortably in silence for half an hour. that’s you. Also very easy to trust which I don’t know how to elaborate on but like!! Top ten guys who are safe to show things to and enjoy things with!

TOP TEN NICKNAMES GUYS ALSO. NEVER GONNA BE OVER THOSE EITHER.

There’s no way to phrase it without sounding insane but the way you?? move through the world??? is really really cool to me you’re just out there!!! You just come across as knowing yourself really well? Unsure how to explain it

ALSO. PREPARED FOR LITERALLY ANYTHING AT ALL TIMES. JESUS CHRIST. you have everything anybody could possibly need ready to pull out at a moment’s notice that was incredibly impressive. relatedly. the way you have recommendations for literally everything at all times?? Holy shit??? Also incredibly impressive!!! Goddamn!!

Also you can talk about things really well which is both impressive and also just always really cool to listen to! Good takes and effectively phrased and it’s just genuinely interesting no matter what it is 10/10 could listen to it forever

Also good driver holy fuck oooh baby when that LA traffic,

Also it’s funny when you bitch at all the surrounding cars 10/10

Also once again. HOT. also once again YOU SHOWED ME YOUR HOMETOWN 😭. also once again some of the most fun I’ve had in the last Ever this weekend we’re so out there we’re so fine we’re so back. Also once again WARM and COMFORTABLE and INCREDIBLY FUN AND FUNNY TO WATCH THINGS WITH I love the way you make your gay little comments and I love your gay little earrings and the things you do to my vocabulary and I love watching you dissect things and your reaction images compilation and your emojis aslo and I love the guy I am around you and I love how you talk about things and the way you write and the way you know me better than I ever could have expected and the way you act and behave and Are and the way you scheme for people I don’t think we even got into the absolutely off the charts generosity and I love your taste in everything and I love making blorbos and stories with you and it looks like you can cook really well and I love how you’re so easy to be comfortable with and I love how you’re so myths and stories and fairytales and I love how you can talk so well and I love how you’re so wetboy and so fishes and so water and so moon and I love how you think of me like the sun and I love being red and blue and I love how you can commit to the bit and to the aesthetic and I love you and you smell good also and there’s definitely more but it’s almost 2am now and I’m losing words so I’ll come back to this in the morning bc I’m definitely forgetting things and they’re Important

Tldr. Holy fuck.

#top ten guys that are WILDLY OUT OF MY LEAGUE but I’m NOT COMPLAINING

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trash1129 · 2 years

Text

Shade | Oikawa Tooru

Summary: Oikawa wants to break up because the shade of his once bright relationship has darkened and it’s his fault for not loving her enough.

Word count: 2,471k

Fic notes + warnings: Oikawa x fem!reader, mentions of fluff (through flashbacks), angst, mentions of cheating, one-shot, swearing(?), established relationship, song fic, based off of Shade by Yukika.

Song link: https://youtu.be/rK69AriTIZc

Note from the author: Hi, hello! So, this is probably one of my first ever angst fics and I have been meaning to write this for MONTHS now and haven’t had time. Once I heard this song I knew I had to write something based off the lyrics! I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Sorry if there is any errors in grammar or any of that, I’m too lazy to edit. Lots of love! -Cyber

Let’s break up,

Oikawa stared at the ceiling of his bedroom with a peacefully sleeping (Y/n) by his side. His mind scattered with the only coherent thought being the thought of breaking off his relationship with his current girlfriend. At this point, He knew it couldn’t stay just a thought and that it had to be an action made in his part. He needed to break things off.

The longer he stared at his ceiling the worse his thoughts got and the twist in his stomach tightened.

Because I’m a bad person, because I don’t love you.

Tooru glanced over at (Y/n)’s sleeping form and felt his heart clench. He knew what he was doing was horrible. He knew he was a horrible person for staying after what he did. He was horrible for not loving her the way he used to. She deserved to be loved but he couldn’t give that to her.

Your shade is darkness to me, goodbye.

Staring at (Y/n) peacefully sleeping, he couldn’t help but feel this disgusting guilt in himself over what he had done and her not knowing anything. It made her once warm, bright, caring nature feel dark and all because of his own guilt. All of this because of something he did to someone who didn’t deserve it. Someone who didn’t know what he did.

Maybe it wasn’t love between us. Was that an unjustified, meaningless relationship?

Tooru rationalized with himself almost every night that their relationship was just a simple, forgettable high school relationship. One that people would call silly in the future due to them thinking it was truly love. He was right, wasn’t he? They were only in high school, it’s not like those relationships last. That’s what he told himself. Though, he knew the truth. He knew that (Y/n) was possibly the best thing to happen to him. That (Y/n) loved and trusted him. She accepted him for himself, his flaws, and never once wanted him to change. She loved him for who he was even though he felt he didn’t deserve it.

The momentary tremble, the momentary joy

Tooru felt like his heart was about to explode as he awaited (Y/n)’s answer. Her (e/c) eyes staring at him wide and her whole face covered in shock. It felt like hours to him as he waited for her to answer. Suddenly, he heard a laugh. A laugh he had grown to love throughout his time getting to know the girl. One that never failed to make his face break out into a smile.

“You’re telling me, the Oikawa Tooru: Captain and setter of Seijoh; Aoba Josai’s idol, is asking me out?” She asked smugly while smirking up at him. “what happened to ‘My only love is volleyball’, hmm?” she chuckled as she referenced what he had once said to a confession he had gotten earlier that year. The sentence alone was enough to make his face heat up in embarrassment.

“You know I only said that to get her to leave me alone!” He huffed making her laugh once more.

“No way! Are you embarrassed, Tooru-kun?” (Y/n) teased. Tooru glared slightly at her response and swallowed back the slight hurt from her lack of answer. “You know what, let’s just forget about this, (Y/n)-chan...okay? I’ll see you later.” He quickly dusted off what he said earlier and smiled to save face from the embarrassment of being rejected. Turning on his heel ready to forget this happened and head to practice.

“Wait, Tooru!” She quickly grabbed his hand, “I’m sorry, I would love to go out with you.” Her voice trembled slightly like she suddenly realized he was serious about his confession. Those trembly words were enough to send his heart into overdrive. Before she knew it, Oikawa scooped her up in his arms and smiled.

“Tooru!” She squeaked out of surprise. There was a beat of silence as he held her and took in the joy of this moment.

“(Y/n)-chan?”

“hm?”

“I’m so getting you back for teasing me earlier.”

Those emotions sometimes become an after-image that torments me

His stomach twisted remembering that day. He remembers the pure happiness he felt when he finally told her his feelings. The days after where he would tease her just to see her get embarrassed, where they would do stupid things together, where they would just want to be with each other for the hell of it. Those once amazing times made him feel sick and he knew he was at fault for it. All because he felt unfulfilled with the endless love he was given. All because he was selfish and wanted more.

Tooru’s eyes stung with tears as he realized the weight of what he had truly done. Just staring at her was causing him to feel guilty. Quickly turning away from her, he stared at his bedroom wall and waited for sleep to consume him.

Let’s break up, because I am a bad person. Because I don’t love you. Your shade is darkness to me.

It was morning after the long night. (Y/n) was in the living room talking on the phone with her mother while Oikawa slowly made his way out of his room. He didn’t want to face her. Last night was hard enough, but he couldn’t tell her no when she asked to stay the night with him. He made his way to the living room hoping she would be to busy on the phone to notice him. He wasn’t ready to talk to her yet. He didn’t want to hurt her but if he didn’t tell her then it would only cause more pain.

but could he even handle that pain? Could he handle no longer having her in his life?

“Oh! Morning, Tooru!”

He was too caught up in his thoughts to realize that he was in the living room. (Y/n) greeted at him with a bright smile and quickly went to end the call with her mother.

Stop it. I don’t want to be sorry anymore. I don’t want to see you being kind anymore. Would you hate me? Goodbye.

Tooru tensed slightly as she ended the call and turned to him once more. She was quick to see his change in body language and tilted her head in concern, “Hey, are you okay?”

That question felt like he was being punched in the gut. He couldn’t stand her caring for him after his unfaithful actions. He couldn’t stand any of the situation anymore. Even though he wanted to wait to have this conversation his guilt was eating him alive. He would rather see her angry and yelling at him than her being so caring after him doing what he did.

“We need to talk” the words quickly left his mouth.

Memories can sometimes wear a smiley mask when the truth isn’t really like that

(Y/n) was quick to agree and sat next to him on the couch. She seemed to notice his off actions. In honesty, He knew she has taken notice the past couple of days. He was avoiding her in the halls when at school. He would only see her in the mornings before class, during lunch, and during practice. Even during those times he wasn’t himself. He wasn’t her Tooru. His usually playfulness was forced. His eyes didn’t match his smile but she never questioned. He knew she wanted to believe everything was fine yet even she knew everything wasn’t fine.

“Let’s break up.” As he said those words, it seemed they both felt as if ice water was dumped on them. It was quiet. (Y/n) stared at him as if searching for reason while Tooru felt his stomach twist knowing her next move.

“Why?”

It was a simple question yet it felt like one of the hardest that Tooru had ever answered in his whole life.

By you, I wish I wasn’t engraved in you mind like a cold you once had. I don’t want be your past.

He felt like he couldn’t answer. He knew that she truly loved him. He knew that this would hurt her deeply. He was someone that was deep into her life, someone that, if they left, would leave a scar on them. He absolutely hated that he was that engraved into her life.

(Y/n) was his best friend before he became her boyfriend. He didn’t want all that to be done. He truly didn’t want to be just in her past and nothing more than a douchebag boyfriend. He didn’t want her gone from his life but he knew that he deserved to just be someone from her past. That she would move on with her life and he wouldn’t be apart of it.

Her gaze seemed to refuse to leave his face as she waited for the answer. He hated that he could already see the hurt in her face. It was probably mirrored on his own. Tooru knew the next words to fall from his mouth would sting the both of them, but it had to be said. It needed to be said.

“I don’t love you anymore.”

Silence.

After a moment, a wobbly pained smile made it onto (Y/n)’s face. “I understand.”, She whispered out trying to cover the obvious pain in her voice. Her eyes were slowly filling with tears that she seemed to be fighting off. Tooru felt his throat tighten and his eyes burn with the same tears as hers. He had no right to cry after the harsh words he said to her but he couldn’t help it.

Now, there’s nothing between us. I don’t want you to try hard to bother me, it’ll be harder for me.

“Can we still be friends?” She asked weakly as she stood from her seat, her body no longer facing him. He knew she was crying and trying not to let him see. That action itself was enough to get a few tears to slip from his stinging eyes. A sob was bubbling in his chest but he forced it down.

Could they still be friends?

He pondered over it before. As much as he wants to still be in her life, he knew he couldn’t. Every time he would look at her, he knew he would feel guilt and the pain of his own actions. Looking at her alone would make him want to hug her and tell her he was sorry hundreds of times, and he knew she would forgive him; but he didn’t deserve forgiveness. He needed to suffer for what he did to someone who deserved nothing but the world. Even if it meant losing an old friend.

After a long silence, she knew his answer. Once again, she nodded as if she understood and quickly cleared her throat. “Okay then...Goodbye, Tooru....” The sentence died at the end of her throat as if she had one more thing to say but couldn’t bring herself to say it. Tooru got up and walked her to the front door. He refused to meet her eyes as he opened the door for her.

“I love you” were the only words she said as she swiftly left.

Will I be okay by myself? Will I be okay without you? I’m afraid, but the longer we hold on it’ll be more painful.

That night Oikawa laid in his bed, chest aching, eyes red from tears, and phone in hand .He questioned himself millions of times after what happened. Staring at the picture of the two of them on his home screen kept taunting him with the questions if he would truly be fine without (Y/n) in his life. Someone he considered his best friend. Someone who taught him that it was okay to not be the best. Someone who didn’t judge him if he broke down from the stress of everything.

Deep down he knew that if he never broke it off, (Y/n) would only suffer more. That he would suffer as well but that his suffering was deserved. He was selfish but he couldn’t let someone innocent be in pain because of his infidelity. If he had held onto her, she would no longer be the bright light that others needed.

Slowly, Tooru turned off his phone and closed his eyes finally letting himself sob. Letting himself understand the loss he caused and the pain he gave someone he deeply cared for.

Let’s break up,

Months have passed. Time has moved on, but Oikawa hasn’t. Everything still hurt as fresh as the day he cheated. The day he ruined everything.

No one noticed though. On the outside, Tooru was still that happy-go-lucky, flirty, confident volleyball captain that girls loved. No one could tell that he was still suffering from his own actions months ago. The only one that was ever able to tell when Tooru was faking was (Y/n) and she has moved on, no longer apart of his life.

Wondering the halls, He was quickly pulled to stop when he heard a familiar laugh. One that he used to love but now only reminded him of his disgusting actions. He should’ve kept walking but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to know how she was, if she was happy, if she hated him, he didn’t care. He wanted to just see her once more.

I don’t want to be sorry anymore. I don’t want to see you being kind anymore. Would you hate me?

As his brown eyes made their way towards the sound, he spotted her.

She looked happy and laughing with a friend of hers. His heart felt like it was squeezed when she looked over in his direction. What was going to happen? Would she instantly ignore him? He wouldn’t be hurt if she did.

But it didn’t happened.

(Y/n)’s eye met Tooru’s and she smiled. A smile that held no malice, no pain, no anger. She lifted her hand and gently waved in his direction, the soft smile never leaving her face as she did so and with a small nod in his direction, she walked off with her friend.

Tooru felt sick. He felt confused. Why didn’t she hate him? Why did she still treat him so kindly? Seeing her treat him kindly hurt so much worse than if she hated him. He wished she would hate him. If she hated him, the pain would stop. He did nothing but hurt her; yet here she was still treating him with that warm, bright kindness that brought him to her in the first place.

He stood staring at the spot she once stood and with his heart aching realized that he was finally just someone from her past.

Goodbye

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hoodie-buck · 2 years

Note

Hi! Can I have 44 from the prompt list?

Thank you!

i made myself a little emotional with this one 🥲 thanks for the ask love <3

Buck hums as Eddie runs his fingers through his curls, pulling on the ends.

They’re laid on the couch together, Buck resting over Eddie, the tv playing lowly with some true crime show in the background. Chris is asleep down the hall, the two of them having should’ve moved to their bed hours ago.

“I do love you, you know. Even if-even if I’m shit at showing it.”

Eddie’s movements stop as he moves to sit up, dragging Buck with him.

“Baby, what’re you talking about?”

Buck sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face while his other hand picks absently at the blanket that had been wrapped around them, now covering just his legs.

“I just, I haven’t gotten you anything special since we’ve been together, and-and you know that’s my love language, I just—never- never mind. I’m just tired.”

Buck doesn’t even get his footing grounded before Eddie’s reassuring hand is placed over his thigh, keeping him where he is. Eddie’s fingers slip under his chin then, willing Buck to look at him.

“Hey, talk to me. What’s going on in that big head of yours?”

Eddie’s words are enough to crack the smallest smile out of Buck as he leans into Eddie’s touch, looking into those warm browns that are so full of love, all for him.

“I got T—you know who, an awful gift when we were together, and then nothing seems good enough for you because you deserve so much Eds. I wanna give you a gift that means something, you know?”

Eddie simply smiles to him, his thumb rubbing soothingly below Buck’s chin.

“I already have that.”

Buck furrows his brows, looking to Eddie more intently. Eddie’s thumb moves up to brush over Buck’s bottom lip, dragging it slowly across the plump skin there.

“I have you, and you are definitely something. You’re everything to me, Buck.”

Buck can’t form any coherent thoughts to respond, so he does the next best thing, leaning forward until his lips meet Eddie’s. Their kisses are soft and tender, just like the love they share for each other.

“God I love you Eds, like so much.”

Eddie smiles into their next kiss, dragging Buck closer so that he’s sat on his lap.

“Well that’s a good thing, because I love you, like so so, much.”

If they spent all night on the couch being saps, Christopher finding them tangled around each other in the morning, well they didn’t really care, not with how in love they were with each other.

soft dialogue prompts

#buddie #buddie drabble #evan 'buck' buckley #eddie diaz #911 fox #this is soft #ask games <3 #send me a prompt #and i’ll love you forever #💙#kel(s) writing

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dorimena · 3 years

Text

𝕷𝖆𝖈𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕮𝖆𝖐𝖊

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; bakugou katsuki

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱; 1.4k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰; fem!reader, lingerie, sex toy (vibrating butt plug), implied edging, implied overstimulation, pegging, mommy kink, dacryphilia, dom!reader, sub!reader

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰; garterbelt, dry orgasms, didn’t know lima bean respect day existed, if you haven't realized i refer to reader's dick as cock whether flesh or silicone, implied aftercare, aged up character, Bakugou is in his 20s

𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢; late gift for the birthday boy who i haven’t written anything about until now. It was supposed to come out as a small fic, but University kept getting in the way and I’ve fallen behind with some pendant writings. Guess this is my first headcanon thing. Not proofread!

April 20th could mean anything for a lot of people:

In the US, it’s National Pineapple Upside Down Cake Day.

Also in the US, it’s National Lima Bean Respect Day.

Internationally, for the weed lovers, it’s 420 Day.

But April 20th simply means it’s your boyfriend’s birthday.

Bakugou had been hinting about wanting a small surprise for a while, whether big or small

And by hinting, I mean downright telling you every breakfast, lunch and dinner spent possible throughout March that he wants something from you, but doesn’t want to know what

If you were Mina, you would’ve thrown a party at some lowkey club and hired one of the best DJs in the city, if not the country

If you were Kirishima, you would’ve taken him hiking to a new mountain someplace else in Japan + a weekend glamping getaway

If you were Sero, you would’ve gone to do something relaxing, maybe a spa? Aerial yoga? Definitely not to just see his ass in some yoga pants

If you were Kaminari-

Well, that’s actually an interesting thought… What would you have done if you were Kaminari?

Bakugou wearing a black, see-through thong, the most sensual looking lace garterbelt you could find in his size and a pretty black bow sitting on his ass is what you managed to come up with

Sure. At first he was ready to fight, but then he remembered who you were so obedient baby boy mode was activated without any more fuss. That, and his fucking fantasies.

He’s also been fantasizing for the past few weeks leading up to his birthday about how you’d probably ride him. Maybe fuck him? He doesn’t care, just wants to be babied and loved and fucked good until he passes out to wake up a week later.

Maybe not, he still has work to do

Another reason he put up with this is because, y’know, you tend to be nicer on special days so-

Bakugou wearing a garterbelt makes you feel so many levels of horny in a span of 30 seconds once you see it on him. It accentuates his already envious waist line even more. God, you can’t wait to see him bent over and ass up.

So you tell him gently to do so from where you’re sitting, and he does it so prettily.

Reminds you of a graceful cat, the way he turns around on the bed, chest already down onto the bed sheets as he pulls his torso as close to his knees as possible. Juicy ass is as high as it could be and wow, the thong doesn’t do a good work at hiding the glimmer of the diamond butt plug.

Pity it didn’t come in any other color than white, but it came with the lingerie.

You didn’t even warn him when you turn the butt plug on.

The promised low setting already sounding pretty loud, his small huffs indicating it’s not as overwhelming yet.

Good.

But by now, you’ve left it on for a good while, watching as he tries not to lose his balance or shuffle too much to ‘lose the appeal’.

He’s cursing at you in airy moans, vermillion eyes glaring at you. Why are you teasing him? You’re meant to be nice.

It’s his fucking birthday

You’d punish him for his impatience, but you already punished him the day before.

You don’t want him not being fucked in the ass so you turn the vibrator up to the last setting, smiling sweetly as he curses even louder

This is still punishing but nice, right?

He seems to agree

His arms are restless, moving from staying beside him to moving above his head to grip at the sheets.

His hands also go to grab his ass and pull the cheeks apart to show you how he’s clenching desperately around the toy, whining about how he needs you right now, to stop fucking around and get your big ass cock in him or else-

But that “or else” doesn’t really get finished, not with you startling him with your speed and sight of the ribbons.

His arms are tied now, forcing him to keep spreading his ass, to keep showing himself off.

This has him burying his face into the bed, hiding how red he’s gotten from embarrassment.

You don’t allow that, so you press your hand onto the plug to push it in deeper.

He yells out your name, body jolting as the toy relentlessly messes with his prostate while your other hand curiously goes to touch the front.

The thong is absolutely soaked and sticky, and when you move your fingers against the fabric to feel just how sticky it is, Bakugou tries humping them, well, really just trying to rub his dick against your fingers because wow the stimulation of the fabric is n i c e.

But you’re not having it just yet, you wanna appreciate his perfect posture a bit more.

Reminder: the butt plug is already at its highest setting.

So the next best thing you can do is smack his ass because your baby loves that, loves how you leave compliments and praise for how it jiggles and gets a pretty red. He does it for you, after all, makes sure it’s always at its best presentation.

But he’ll never tell you shit because then you’ll tease him and embarrass him in front of his friends.

So a few slaps in, being careful with his hands, all followed by cooing at how it moves, how it blushes, how it’s now matching his face and probably dick too, has him trying to fuck back into the vibrator, but he’s humping absolutely nothing and growing more and more desperate and horny.

You back away from the bed, going for your camera to take another pic for your growing collection.

On the bed lies Bakugou Katsuki, all tied up, lingerie getting sticky with precum, the laciest garterbelt you’ve ever seen decorating his waist while he’s panting heavily, ass in the air, face completely red and wet, whether it be his sweat or tears.

He’s holding his ass apart to show you the vibrating diamond butt plug that’s been stuck in the highest setting, buzzing away as he’s whimpering your name, hiccuping “mommy, mommy, mommy” as he pleads for mercy, wiggling his ass as he tries luring you back to his body.

“M-mommy! Hnnnm tuh-touch me! Plea-ease? Please~”

Hey, aren’t you supposed to be nice? Eh...

He can’t come alone from the vibrating butt plug, never has been able to before, and if his rocking hips don’t indicate how much he wants to either fuck the bed or have your hand on it, you just ignore it.

Let’s see if tonight he’ll be able to cum hands-free for once. And make sure he cries more and more everytime he gets to cum from your cock and only because of your cock.

Basically that’s your birthday gift. Fuck him good until he either forgets his name, he's a babbling, crying mess, he's completely milked, or all of the above.

After hours of being edged by the toy he finally came, but in thin, small amounts, so you had to fuck out a few more rounds and cum out of him before he passed out.

In all honesty, he begged you to fuck him until he passed out. He had been fantasizing about it, after all.

After you both had your final orgasm of the night, rather early morning, he’s in tears, body trembling through the last tremors of his 2nd dry orgasm out of what? 7 orgasms? The copious amount of cum he’s managed to get milked out of him drying everywhere on his body, drool wetting the bed sheets even more than they were, room smelling like caramel, asshole fluttering around nothing and dick twitching as if wanting more.

Bakugou’s speaking gibberish at this point, the only coherent words leaving his dumb mouth being “mommy”, “more” or your name as he slowly succumbs to his exhaustion.

You give him your premium grade A aftercare during the little time he remained conscious and took care of everything else as he slept.

Next day, you cook breakfast, even if he grumbled about the taste or appearance.

He’s a good boy, he’s not gonna yell at you or be ungrateful with anything and everything you do, considering you put up with his anger. I mean, he gives his opinions, insights, inquiries through loving shouts of disapproval and approval.

All in all, he liked his birthday, but told you he kind of expected you to throw a party and had mentally prepared himself

Goddamn it. Guess next year you’ll call Mina for some help

#bnha smut #mha smut #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki smut #sub bakugou #sub bnha #ლ; blasphemy #𝖇𝖆𝖐𝖚𝖌𝖔𝖚

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retrievablememories · 3 years

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love thy neighbor | kun (m)

title: love thy neighbor pairing: kun x black reader genre: fluff, smut, neighbors to lovers request: “Hello again Rain! I hope you're doing well and I'm happy to see you're open for requests again. Your writing in general is a treat to look forward to. An idea for a fic I'd like to suggest is wayv kun/black oc where they're neighbors that secretly pine for another and do feel free get very nsfw lmao. TY!” word count: 5.7k warnings: alcohol use, protected sex, dirty talk, dry humping, riding a/n: i used a prompt from this list of ideas to help me create this fic.

i’m sorry, this fic could’ve theoretically been finished long ago but took me 3893 years because kun intimidates me (and i don’t know why) and that makes it hard to write for him l m f a o chile anyway...

Your neighbor might actually kill you one day—but only in the figurative sense.

Kun is too beautiful and kind for your sanity; he’s like one of those men out of a romantic novel who simply should not exist. In other words, the ideal guy. One who helps all the little old ladies in the building take their groceries up to their apartments, one who feeds all the stray cats that hang around the complex, one who helps new tenants move their things in without even being asked.

Your roommate Charlotte would probably be totally smitten over him just like you if she did not already have her own happy relationship with her girlfriend. But since she does, she has decided to spend her time instead teasing you about your crush on him and trying to persuade you into getting tangled up in a matchmaking mess.

“I’m sure he already has a girlfriend, I don’t know, trying to shoot my shot seems ridiculous,” you say to her, worrying the edge of your blanket in your hands. You toss and turn on the couch, flipping onto your stomach and sighing before shuffling onto your back again. “People like that can never stay single for long. Right? They get snapped up quick.”

“You’d know if you simply asked,” Charlotte points out. “Staring holes into his head won’t help you find out more about him.”

“I guess you’re right,” you say, your fingers stumbling over the blanket as it momentarily slips from your hands. Still, the idea of asking him if he’s dating anyone, whether discreetly or more openly, makes you nervous. You’ve talked to Kun several times before, even hung out with him at those friendly get-togethers your apartment building always holds to get the residents mingling, but you’re still anxious around him. It makes you feel silly, like you’re back in high school; but you aren’t quite sure what to do with those emotions or how to form them into something coherent. “Easy to say all that when you already have the person you want, though.”

“Oh, girl. Love is not easy, but that’s why you have to fucking work for it. AKA, go for what—or who—the hell you want and stop pining over him like some lost Juliet on our couch. It’s better than watching you flop around like a dying fish.”

You stand up from the couch abruptly, leaving your blanket to the side and glaring at her. “You don’t get it, ugh.”

“I get it! But you refuse to let me help—”

“Yes, because if I did, you’d say something completely ridiculous and tell him I’m madly in love with him or something.” You head to the bathroom to check yourself in the mirror.

Charlotte throws her hands up in surrender. “Hey, maybe. But that wouldn’t be a lie.”

“Really? I don’t think—”

“I think so. The way you talk about this guy, it’s definitely sounding a little like love to me.”

Once you’re satisfied, you come back in the main room and grab your keys, wanting to end this conversation before Charlotte sets a world record for how many times she can make you feel embarrassed. “Whatever you say. I’m gonna go to the corner store, so...speak now if you need something or forever hold your peace.”

“You can’t run from it,” Charlotte sing-songs, going back to reading her magazine. “And no, I don’t need anything.”

Once you get out your front door, it’s just your luck when you see Kun’s door is also open. You are not dressed for running into him, of all people; your “corner store” clothes being just a T-shirt, leggings, and slides. You freeze in place and momentarily think about unlocking your door and bolting back inside, which you realize is utterly ridiculous. By then, it’s too late; he’s already coming out his door and closing it behind him.

He perks up when he sees you outside, smiling at you with those deep dimples that make your insides melt. “Hey Y/N, good to see you.”

“Kun! Uh—great to see you too.”

“Are you going out somewhere?” he asks. Inwardly, he feels a bit silly for asking because you clearly are, keys in hand and everything.

“Yeah, just to the store to get a few things.” You wave your hand, and you almost have the urge to lean on your doorframe to appear more calm and collected than you are. Which could potentially end up looking sillier than you intended. “How about you?”

“Going to see a friend,” he answers, and he brushes his hand through his hair in a way that’s completely casual but somehow modelesque at the same time. This is unbelievable, you think to yourself. “We haven’t met up in a while, so…”

“Oh yeah, it’s always nice to go out with old friends,” you say, smiling at the thought of it. Kun nods his agreement, and then has an abrupt, wild idea to ask if you’d like to go out somewhere sometime. Too busy warring with himself over whether he should take the dive, he doesn’t notice you heading towards the stairs already. “I hope you two have a good time!”

“Oh—thanks. Hope you enjoy your trip.” He chuckles, following you down the steps to get to his car. Well, that moment has passed. Sure, he could probably still ask you now if he was bold enough about it, but it feels too awkward to randomly ask someone out in the middle of a stairwell.

You wave bye to him once you both get in the parking lot. He watches you walk to your car with a wistful smile on his face. He wants to say more to you, but the timing isn’t right and it’s best not to hold you up right now. Plus, Hendery’s probably already waiting for him.

It would’ve provided you with a lot of relief if you knew Kun was facing a similar dilemma to you. He’d never had much problem talking to women he liked in the past, but something about you made him feel clumsy and hesitant. But just like with your inability to move forward, there’s no way for you to know his feelings without him saying anything about it—which he has been hesitating over for the longest.

Maybe he was also still cowering from the embarrassment of the time he’d tried to show you a magic trick that didn’t quite work out, but it was a convenient excuse. At least for him, anyway.

One day he’d get the courage to tell you how he felt, but he didn’t think today was that day.

–

Some strong shots and a few hours at the club was exactly what you needed to unravel your nerves after a long week. You and a few others from your work had decided to go out that Saturday night as a group effort to unwind from dealing with your overbearing boss. “Just a couple shots” eventually turned into more than that, though, but you weren’t complaining. As long as it gave you the opportunity to discard all your issues for a while, you didn’t mind losing yourself a little.

However, your night of fun quickly dissolves into frustration when you realize you’ve lost your keys and have no way to get back into your apartment. You’re not even sure where they might’ve disappeared—in the club, or in the rideshare back to your apartment?

Charlotte is out of the city for the week visiting her long-distance girlfriend, so there’s no way you’re getting back in your apartment tonight. The main office won’t be open at this hour, either; it’s the weekend, and nobody will be there regardless until Monday. And you’re definitely not drunk enough or desperate enough to try to bust the door down.

Though it pains you to do so, you knock on Kun’s door, your head throbbing and dizzy. You feel bad about this. He won’t even be awake at this hour and might not answer, but you don’t know what other options you have. You aren’t familiar enough with your other neighbors to ask this of them. Especially not the old lady living on the other side of you who has a perpetually judgmental aura towards everyone in the apartment building. The only person she seems marginally approving of is none other than the man himself—Qian Kun.

It takes a good minute or two, but you hear the latch unlock, and Kun is suddenly standing in front of you, a look of concern on his sleepy face. He is adorable like this, in his pajamas and his hair mussed and his eyes foggy with sleep. He’s so cute it makes you want to cry—and so you do.

But your tears are mostly because you’re very tipsy and tired and currently locked out of your very comfortable apartment.

This awakens Kun immediately. “Y/N? What’s wrong?” He gently pulls you into his apartment, his tone quiet but panicked as you put your face in your hands and cry. You just shake your head for a few moments, crying too much to say anything to him. When you don’t reply, he doesn't try to press you for answers; he just puts his arms around you, a bit carefully as if you’re made of some easily breakable material, and lets you wet his T-shirt with your tears.

Finally, when you’ve collected yourself some, you abruptly feel foolish for crying over something like this. He probably thinks someone’s died, and you’ve gotten him all worked up for practically nothing. “I-I’m locked out,” you sigh heavily, and he has enough politeness not to outwardly react to your alcohol breath with your close proximity. “And my roommate is gone…forever.”

His eyebrows lift. “Forever?”

“The whole week, Kun...but it feels like...f-forever.”

“Ah...I see. Is that why you were crying?”

You put your head back in your hands. “Just kill me.”

“Don’t feel bad about it,” Kun says, and there is a tiny lift to his mouth like he wants to smile at your dramatics. “It’s fine. You can stay here tonight.”

“Kun, thank you.” You’re still loosely embracing each other, and you squeeze your arms more tightly around him. Maybe it’s just a reason to rest your head on his chest again and hear his heart beating strong against your cheek, but you wouldn’t admit that. Wait, why is his heart beating so fast? “Thank youuu, I love you so much, this means the world to me.”

Kun’s mind catches on the words I love you so much, and he knows you’re just drunk and need to sleep it off and aren’t really thinking about what you’re saying, but he cannot help lingering there for a moment. He’s glad the front room is still dim from the single lamp he turned on, otherwise you might notice the flush growing on his cheeks. “I...it’s no problem. We should get you comfortable, then.”

As it turns out, get you comfortable means he lets you sleep in his bed while he takes the couch. In another context you’d protest, not wanting to kick him out of his own space, but you are simply too smashed to think about it. You’re seconds away from falling asleep where you stand now that the adrenaline of discovering you’re locked out has worn off. Kun has the idea to make you drink some ice cold water, though, which wakes you up enough to take a proper shower.

By the time you get out of the shower and are wearing his clothes—his clothes—you are feeling a little more sober. You also feel like you’re going to have another small meltdown over all this. “This” being: wearing Kun’s clothes and standing in his bedroom, which is decorated with all his interests and treasured belongings. There’s a small studio setup in one corner, which interests you, but you don’t investigate it any further.

Now you have another little problem, though; what are you gonna do about the pillows? You don’t have anything to cover your hair with, with all your scarves and bonnets in your own apartment. One night of sleeping on a cotton pillow wouldn’t kill you, but that doesn’t make it any less distasteful to think about.

Kun comes into the bedroom to check on you and sees you puzzling around, sitting on the bed and looking awkward. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh. It’s nothing really,” you rush out, unsure if you should tell him about a problem he likely won’t even understand. It must be at least 4:00 a.m. by now, meaning you both desperately need to get some sleep.

“You can tell me, I won’t bite.”

I wouldn’t mind if you did pops into your head, but you immediately try to ignore that thought and are silently grateful that you do not blush visibly.

“Uh, my hair.”

“Your hair?”

“Okay, I need to cover it at night so it won’t get all broken off or anything—sleeping on cotton does wonders for destroying moisture—but I don’t have anything here to use. I mean—it’s...not a huge deal though, I can deal with it for a night?” You’re rambling now. Kun just nods, taking in all this information like he’s listening to something very important and very interesting.

“So then, what would you do to stop that?”

“Wear a scarf, or a bonnet, or using a silk pillowcase works, too. But you probably don’t have any of that stuff, you don’t have to bother with it—”

“Well, let me see.” Kun disappears into his closet and you pause, wondering for a moment if he actually does have a bonnet or something in there. Which would probably be a little hilarious to you.

He comes back out with not a bonnet of a scarf or even a pillowcase, but one of his own shirts. It’s just the right material though, being a pretty purple silk.

“Oh—Kun.” At this point, there are several emotions all trying to come to the forefront, though you have no clue which one to settle on. “Your shirt? You really don’t have to. I could…”

“It’s just a shirt, Y/N. There are a lot more where that comes from...I don’t mind.” He chuckles.

You sigh bashfully but take the shirt from him. “Thank you, it’s really thoughtful of you.” You cover the pillow with his shirt, and it works perfectly.

“Anyway, if you need anything else, just tell me,” he says, lingering by the door.

“I will...thank you,” you say, your voice quiet as you give him a nervous smile. Only when he shuts the door and his footsteps fade away do you allow yourself to bunch the comforter in your fists and scream into it. Everything in here smells just like him, which is probably more than enough to fuel all of your Qian Kun-related daydreams for the next 8 months.

It doesn’t take long for you to drift off when you finally do lie down, and your mind is blissfully empty of anything throughout the night.

The next day takes a bit of settling into. You’re momentarily alarmed when you wake up faced with a strange room until you remember last night’s events and recall where you are. There is also the smell of food, good food, which is also sadly unfamiliar to you. Charlotte can’t cook to save either of your lives, so you know you’d never be waking up to the smell of a professional chef-approved breakfast if you were still in your apartment with her.

Walking out of Kun’s room, you see that he’s in the kitchen, halfway finished with cooking breakfast for the both of you. It’s more like brunch at this hour, but what does that matter.

You linger at the doorway for a moment, allowing yourself to imagine that this is what things would be like if you were dating. Getting this view everyday? Life cannot be this unfair.

Maybe not too much, though, since you are standing in his kitchen.

“Oh, good morning,” he greets you, breaking your reverie. “Did you sleep well?”

“Good morning. I slept great. Thanks again for, you know, the shirt, haha…”

He grins, and his dimples come out. “Sure thing. Go ahead and sit! Breakfast will be ready soon.”

It’s the best breakfast you’ve eaten since living with Charlotte; maybe some of the best food you’ve ever had. “I had no idea you could cook this well,” you say. “I mean. I guess I wouldn’t since I haven’t—you know, uh—eaten here before, but—it’s great.” It’s just your luck that your thoughts come out in this fumbling mini-rant, but Kun only laughs good-naturedly.

“Thank you, I’m truly glad you like it.”

You both continue eating breakfast while making light conversation. This just might be the longest conversation you’ve had with each other, and that knowledge seems surreal. You’re almost a little glad you lost your key. Almost.

“So...today is Sunday. And the leasing office still won’t be open until Monday.” Kun says this over the remnants of breakfast. He speaks in a measured tone, like he’s trying to ensure he says the right thing. Whatever that could possibly be. “And you told me your roommate won’t be back until Monday.”

To your credit, you hadn’t exactly accounted for this when you first came over to his place in your distressed state. That means another night spent in his apartment though, which becomes very obvious to you now. “Ah. Sorry, am I imposing?”

“What—no, I-I just wanted to make sure you knew you can stay here tonight, or—however long you need.”

Relief floods through you, and you briefly wonder why you even worried about it; as far as you know, he’s not the kind of person to just kick someone out. “Ohh, of course—that’s good to know. Thank you for all this!”

“You’re welcome.” You miss the smile he gives to your response as you’re busy drinking your juice, but it’s one filled with a certain affection.

It feels a bit awkward to just sit around in his apartment all day, with nothing to do and all your belongings still locked out of your reach in your own place, so Kun shows you the studio in the corner of his room. He’d talked about being into music before, but you’d never heard anything of his until now.

When he plays the keyboard for you, it’s to the tune of a beautiful self-composed song. You almost pinch yourself to remind yourself this isn’t a hallucination or a fever dream. A man this appealing really exists, and you’ve stayed the night in his apartment and eaten his breakfast. You give a small round of applause when he finishes.

“Wouldn’t it be cool if you became a famous singer or something? I’d come to all your concerts,” you say lightly, kicking your legs on the edge of his bed.

“All? Really, all?” He laughs.

“Yes, all. A voice and talent like that deserves all the attention.” You lean back on his bed, stretching your legs out. “But all your venues would probably be sold out. Hopefully you’d remember me from your lil’ ole apartment building. I’m sure you’d be living in a penthouse by then.”

Kun smiles bashfully at your compliments, waving his hands as if it’s too much. “Thank you. But I don’t think I could ever forget you.” His voice grows a bit softer. His expression is more genuine than you expect for a conversation that was so playful only seconds ago, and you find it hard to hold eye contact all of a sudden.

It is your turn to be bashful, and you shrug in an effort to seem natural. “Well, I’m flattered.” Despite your unaffected demeanor, you don’t think those words will leave your mind for a good while, even if you wonder about the meaning of them.

Later that evening, Kun makes dinner and you watch TV together, flipping to whatever channels have dramas or movies playing.

You two eventually fall into another conversation when you can’t find anything good to watch—one that does not make you overly nervous for once. During a lull in the talking, that big question pops up into your mind, and you wince internally at how Charlotte would’ve already told you to make a move. You aren't sure how to do that without making him uncomfortable or seeming too sudden, but you decide to make an attempt.

You edge into it with, “So, um, your place looks pretty nice for one guy. It’s just you here, right?”

“Ah yeah, just me. Thanks, I do try my best.”

“Haha, I’m used to my guy friends all having super messy apartments until they get a girlfriend and she teaches them how to clean a stove for the first time…”

“Oh really? That’s a bit sad for them, isn’t it?” He chuckles. “I’m not dating anyone right now, so it’s all me.”

Just the information you were looking for. You try not to show your elation. “Why not?” you blurt out. Then you cringe because this might sound too invasive or even judgmental, but Kun only grins. “It’s just, it’s a little surprising. You’re such a generous person. You seem to care about everyone, even those poor stray kitties that stay outside the apartments all the time.”

He smiles timidly in response to receiving more of your compliments. “I guess it seems curious when you put it like that.” Just like when you’d drunkenly said I love you so much, there’s suddenly heat on the back of his neck that he hopes won’t turn into another blush that’ll expose him. “I don’t really know, I haven’t thought much about it; life’s weird like that.” He isn’t really sure how to answer that question in a way that won’t be too big of a hint that he’s interested in you, though he’s also not entirely sure why he’s still trying to hide it. Wouldn’t now be the perfect opportunity? When will you two have this much time together again? Still, you staying in his apartment for two days doesn’t mean you like him, and maybe he’s jumping the gun.

“That’s true. Guess that’s the same reason why I’ve been alone for a while now.” You shake your head.

“You?” Kun is equally surprised to know this about you.

You laugh incredulously. “Does that shock you or something?”

“I...well.” He rubs the back of his neck as he searches for the words. “I just thought...you’re very pretty, and you’re always really kind when we speak, so...”

“Oh?” Your face heats up at that.

“Yeah, I…think anyone would be lucky to be with you.”

“Oh.” Your body’s first instinct is to freeze with nervousness, but you know Charlotte would be kicking your ass in gear right now if she were somehow here. So, you decide to stop stressing about it and just do it. “Well...wouldn’t it be nice if we both had a way to fix our problems at the same time?”

Kun pauses for a moment before replying. “What do you suggest?” He knows what you are proposing—you can see in his eyes and his slight grin and his posture that he knows—but maybe he wants to hear you say it out loud.

“Hm, well…I don’t know, what do you think?” You lean a bit closer to him, raising your eyebrows and trying your best to look innocent and unassuming. His smile turns into something different with your increased proximity. Something a little more sly.

Mirroring your actions, he inches nearer to you until there’s little space left between. “Well, I think…” Kun tentatively closes the remaining gap between the two of you, the rest of his sentence left to linger as his soft lips envelop yours.

Maybe it’s corny to say it, but it definitely feels like one of those fairytale kisses with the fireworks going off and streamers popping; even though you’re sitting on his couch wearing his pajamas, some movie in the background you’ve long forgotten the plot of, empty dinner plates sitting on the coffee table in front of you.

You aren’t sure how you end up in his lap—who made the first move? Was it his hand on your back or your hands on his shoulders? You straddle him on the couch, your arms slipping around his shoulders and his hands on your back but assuredly traveling farther down your body.

Kun’s hands come to rest on your thighs, pulling the fabric of his shorts up a few inches higher. “I never thought I’d see you wearing my clothes,” he says lowly, grinning against your mouth.

“I also never thought I’d be sitting in your lap like this, but maybe sometimes dreams do come true,” you say jokingly, your lips rubbing against his skin as you slowly kiss his jaw.

You can’t see his expression, but his eyebrows shoot up at that. “Dreams, huh? You think about me often?” His voice pitches lower when he asks this, aroused by the thought of you imagining anything quite so lewd about him. You’ve definitely incriminated yourself now and won’t be able to wiggle out of it without an answer.

“...Maybe.”

“What do you think about me?” Kun grips your hips, which quickly turns into him grabbing your ass—tentatively at first to test the waters, and then firmly enough to grind you against his hardening cock. Sensing him solid and warm underneath you sends a shockwave down your spine, and the sensation heightens when his voice caresses your ear, all low and tense with arousal. “It’s just the two of us here. No one else has to know.”

“I think about your...lips. How you might kiss me. Or what you might say to me. And...your hands.” You pause there, a quiet breath whispering past your lips. “You have really big hands, you know.”

“My hands…” Kun places one on your chest, spreading his fingers across and touching your collarbone. The heel of his palm glides on the top of your breast, and just that touch is enough to get you more worked up. “Hmm. Actually, I’ll admit I’m pretty good with my hands.” He smirks, and he’s possibly the finest thing you’ve ever seen. “What else, Y/N?”

“I thought about how you’d touch me.” His hand slides between your breasts now, down your sternum, and to your stomach. “Maybe I’d invite you into my apartment when Charlotte wasn’t there. We’d watch some stupid movie and pretend to be into it, but we’re really just thinking about each other. You’d eventually end up slipping your hand up my skirt...and making me cum all over your fingers.”

You aren’t sure how you’re saying all this to Kun right now, the dude you have a major crush on, without bursting into flames.

His shaft rubbing against your clit even through your layers of clothes makes you sigh dreamily, pressing your forehead to his and gripping at his shoulders and biceps. His bangs are soft against your forehead, and your breath stutters when he moves to kiss the side of your neck. He has to know how hard your heart is beating right now.

“And then what?” His voice is barely a whisper, then.

“And then you’d fuck me, of course.” There’s a slight laugh in your voice at the ticklish feeling of his lips kissing your skin.

“And then I’d fuck you...hm,” he echoes. “Sure, I can do that.”

The promise of it entices you, and more heat pools between your legs, amplified by the fabric rubbing against your sensitive parts. His hand that’s still on your stomach travels under your shirt then, and your hips falter in your rhythm against him when his fingers brush across your nipple. He brings his lips to your other breast, lapping his tongue against your nipple over the fabric.

You soon come like this, his shaft grinding against your clit and his clothes rubbing against your skin, his hands on your ass and his lips traveling across your breasts. The orgasm is sudden and surprises you, but it’s good, and you convulse as the waves of pleasure course through you. You weaken and slump against him, with him still teasing your breasts with his mouth and hands. Pushing your face into his hair, you moan into the black strands until the quivering stops.

You’re breathless when you speak again. “You haven’t come yet.”

“I’d rather do that when I’m inside you,” he replies. You giggle quietly.

“...What are you waiting for, then?”

“Hold on.” Kun carefully maneuvers you off his lap, and you already want to complain at the lack of his touch. “I have to get a condom.”

“Hurry, or you’ll miss all the fun,” you say as you pull your shirt off with your back to him. You look back over your shoulder at him and grin mischievously.

“You’re such a tease…”

Kun goes into his room to fetch a condom, and when he returns he’s already pulling his shirt off, leaving it on the floor somewhere. You’re fully naked now, your legs pulled up to your chest and your chin resting on your knees as you sit on the couch. Kun’s eyes drop between your legs, your inner thighs still glistening from your previous orgasm, and he swipes his tongue across his lips at the sight of you, wet and ready for him.

Likewise, your eyes drop to the dark trail of hair leading into his pants and his bulge just below it, the way his sweatpants cling to his length, and your pussy throbs with the desire to be filled.

“Please, hurry.”

Kun doesn’t waste any time in getting the rest of his clothes off, shoving his pants and underwear done in one swift move and rolling the condom over his shaft. He climbs onto the couch, grabbing your legs and guiding them around his waist, and you giggle at his eager but gentle touch as you recline on the couch pillows behind you.

He grabs his dick and lines it up with you, then pushes it in slowly at first. The stretch makes your toes curl, but it is a good kind of stretch, the kind that fills you to the brim. Like the missing element you needed.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice husky from the pleasure.

“Fuck, please,” is your answer as you shift your hips and try to get him all the way inside quicker. Noticing your urgency, he slides the rest of the way in until your hips are flush against each other and starts thrusting into you. His length dragging across your walls feels much better than you could’ve imagined on any given night, and you clasp your legs tighter around him to get ever closer.

After a point, he pushes your legs up with his hands behind your knees so he can get a deeper angle, and you both moan at the difference in sensation and how much tighter you get around him.

There is no ignoring the messy wet noises of your bodies colliding due to the slickness of your previous orgasm and the new wetness he’s continually fucking out of you. Each thrust reaches deep inside you, deep enough to make you nearly sob, your hands fumbling over your breasts and your clit all the while.

“Kun, god yes please,” you whimper, rocking your hips into the rhythm of his own. You fucking him back makes him groan deeply, his bangs hanging off his forehead as he dips his head to watch himself slide in and out of you. You could not control the urge or the motion of your body even if you wanted to; you want all of him, as close as he can get.

“I don’t want this to end,” he moans, and he pulls out without a warning. You gasp at the sudden emptiness, and your discontent comes out in a full whine. You’d be more embarrassed about it if you weren’t currently consumed with desire, but you presently do not care.

Kun sits back on the couch and pulls you on top of him again. “Ride me,” he says. So you grasp the base of his cock, him grunting as you do, and you press the tip against your entrance before pushing it in. He watches himself slip inside of you while fully enraptured, one hand tight on your hip.

Once you are full with him again, you experimentally grind against him to see how it’ll feel in this new position, and your arms tremble as his pelvis stimulates your clit.

“Go ahead,” he whispers, grasping the nape of your neck and kissing you hard once more, “fuck yourself on me.”

So you keep grinding your clit on him like that, your limbs shaking from the stimulation and your walls fluttering around his cock. You can barely catch a complete breath from him kissing you hard enough to make your lips swell, and your head is so fogged with lust that all you can concentrate on is getting yourself off just like he told you to do.

“Kun…” You roll your head onto his shoulder, pressing your forehead into his skin, your body tiring as you get closer to reaching that high. You’re so close to coming, but you’re not sure if you have enough strength left to get there on your own. Kun notices the state you’re in and grasps your hips to pull them into his, effortlessly sliding himself into you while making sure your clit gets stimulated at the same time.

The new friction of his dick rubbing against your g-spot in this position is enough to have you finally coming and crying out against his neck.

You continue babbling nonsense against his neck as he keeps fucking you, searching for his own end. His hands are hot on your body as he moves you up and down his length.

His climax comes soon after yours, his dick pulsing and his pace slowing. Your back arches at the sensation of him throbbing inside you and releasing his cum into the condom. The way he groans in your ear has your stomach clenching.

For a few minutes after, you both sit quietly and do nothing but cling to one another as you come down from the pleasure.

“So, does this mean we’re together now…?” Kun asks hopefully, running his hands over your back as you lie against him.

You smile against his skin. “Obviously. But if you still want to convince me, we can go a couple more rounds…”

#kun smut #kun fic #kun scenarios #kun imagines #nct fic #nct smut #nct imagines #nct scenarios #wayv fic #wayv scenarios #wayv smut #wayv imagines #ambw scenarios #kpop ambw #ambw fic #ambw smut #ambw imagines #qian kun

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sluttyten · 3 years

Note

for the writing prompt Taeyong + 31 + 120

taeyong + making them cum their pants + going on a first date with them

Your first date with Taeyong wasn't anything fancy. You had several mutual friends, both of you had busy schedules, and your mutual friends knew that you were both busy and that you both had romantic and sexual needs that weren't being met. So they'd set you up together.

At first you weren't too excited about it. Taeyong's an idol and you know that dating an idol is probably less fun than their fans would like to believe. It's a lot of secrecy, lots of pretending that it's not happening.

But on the other hand, you were excited because Taeyong was extremely visually attractive, you got along well enough with him on the few occasions you'd met, and your mutual friend had assured you that Taeyong was in the same situation as you.

"You need someone to fuck away your frustrations with, or at least someone that makes you feel that blushy bright happiness of new love," your friend had said. "So just go out with him. Just, like, one date to see how it is."

So you had agreed, but the thing was that Taeyong was busy a lot of the time during the hours you had free. You worked a 9-5 type of job and he worked more of a 5 in the afternoon to seven in the morning sometimes type of job, which didn't allow for a lot of overlap.

Then the evening comes right as you're getting off work you get a message from Taeyong. "Are you free tonight for that first date?"

"Are you free? haha" is your response, because really your evenings are usually free; it's his that are filled.

It turns out his entire evening isn't free, but he doesn't have to go into the studio tonight until about 9, so for the next four hours he's yours.

Since you're already out, you decide that you can meet for a relatively early dinner and a drink. You both decide it'll be a semi-casual date since it's on such short notice; you'll be in your work clothes, and you truly don't even care what he wears, so when he shows up at the bar-restaurant you're kinda amused that he's wearing basketball shorts and a hoodie.

"Shit," he sighs, slipping into the seat across from you at this small round table. "I would've changed if I knew you were gonna look like this." He gestures at your tidily tucked in button-down shirt and the pressed black slacks you'd worn to work. "You look really good, honestly."

Taeyong might just be wearing a hoodie and athletic shorts, but he looks amazing too. "What you're wearing is just fine, Taeyong. You look really, really good too."

He laughs and leans back in his chair to look at you. "It's been a while since we've seen each other. When our friends suggested we go on a date, especially after they explained that we're both seeking similar things, I was eager to get to see you again. I've been thinking about you."

"Oh?" You lean forward. "What about me?"

Taeyong's eyes sparkle as he smiles. "I shouldn't say."

You're interrupted when an employee comes over to take your order, not that either of you had taken a look at the menu yet. You each order a drink, and when the employee recommends a dish, Taeyong just tells him that you'll take one for you both to share. As soon as the employee walks away, Taeyong leans forward again, resting one of his hands on the table halfway between you and him.

"And I do put out on the first date," he says in a quiet voice, "In case you were wondering." You hadn't really been wondering, but it's still nice to know.

"I thought you have work tonight. Do you have time to put out even if tonight goes that way?" You ask, tracing your fingers over the back of his hand. Taeyong flips his hand over, his fingers catching yours and holding on.

"Pretty sure I could make time for you."

Once more the employee interrupts by returning with your drinks.

After that, the conversation turns more towards other kinds of talk, like what you've been doing at work, what he's been doing in his free time, how you haven't gone on a date in months due to being busy and the last guy being a total dick.

You eat and you drink some more, though not too much since you still need to get yourself home and Taeyong needs to go record after this. But the longer you sit there with him, the less you want to part with him. Under the table his foot rests against yours, his knee is touching yours, and when an employee stumbles over the leg of Taeyong's chair, he scoots his chair out of the way, around the table toward you.

It's a round, small table, so it's not like he fully moves around an entire table to sit beside you. He just simply moved out of the walkway that cuts behind your table.

But it also enables him to lay a hand on your knee as he laughs at something you say.

And in turn, when he looks at you with his dreamy, sparkly eyes like he's trying to enchant you into kissing him (and he even bites lightly at his bottom lip as his gaze drops down to your mouth), you slip your hand over to his thigh, rather higher up than his hand on your knee.

Taeyong gulps.

You maintain a conversation with him even as you start rubbing his upper thigh, and to your delight Taeyong gives you coherent answers and even tells you stories without stumbling over his words even when you slip your hand more between his legs to lightly rub at his growing bulge.

The slick material of his shorts helps as you rub him over his shorts. Taeyong keeps his composure except for the blushing in his ears, but he soon pulls his hood up to conceal them, and you can't help smiling.

"Naughty," he gasps softly when you give his dick a squeeze. "Are you trying to make me cum in my pants in public? On our first date?"

"Is it working?" You move to withdraw your hand, but Taeyong's hand shoots down, gripping your wrist and keeping your hand right where it is. "Do you want me to keep going? Or we could leave. My apartment's not too far away, and--" You check your watch, then continue, "We still have, like two hours until you have to be at the studio."

"Yeah," Taeyong's voice has a surprisingly rasp to it. "Yeah, okay, lets go."

He now holds your hand tightly in his, and he stands up, tugging his luckily oversized hoodie down to cover any evidence of his erection. You pay for the dinner and drinks quickly, and then you're out of the building. You guide Taeyong down the sidewalk, around the corner, and then he's tugging you instead down into an alley.

The building's wall is still warm behind your back when Taeyong's warm lips meet yours. His kiss is uncoordinated at first, out of practice, but it takes just a moment for him to be smooth, opening your mouth to him. You like that he takes charge, cradling the back of your head against the wall, to preoccupied with kissing you breathless that he takes a few seconds to realize you're cupping your hand against his bulge again.

Taeyong moans, grinding forward against your touch.

He's already so hard, and you can tell that he's desperate for it from the way that he grinds forward so eagerly.

"Sorry," he murmurs when he breaks the kiss. "It's been longer than just a few months for me. Shit, I miss having someone else touch me."

You kiss him quiet. You curl your hand around the shape of his erection, jerking him off through his shorts, letting him rock into your fist, and it's really charming and cute that he's so into this, that you're going to be the first person to touch him and make him cum in longer than a few months.

Taeyong pants and moans against your lips, bracing his hands on the wall behind you as he fucks into your touch, grinding his hips against yours with your hand trapped between your bodies.

"Are you going to cum for me, Taeyong? They were right, you do need this." You kiss his jaw, and his cock twitches in your hand.

"I need it so bad." He gasps, pushing into your touch, pressing himself against you, chasing the tightening feeling in his abdomen. "But, god dammit, I want to feel you. I miss being skin-to-skin."

You can do that. You take your free hand and slide it under his shirt, your palm spreading out over the warm skin of his lower back. You dip your fingers beneath the edge of his shorts in the back, slipping lower, and when you grab his ass, Taeyong gasps and swears.

His hips jolt forward, cock twitching as he cums in his pants, the heat and stickiness of it soaking through the thin material of his shorts. His breath comes hard and fast against your lips, his hips still grind forward slowly into your touch, and you just smile at the feeling coursing through your veins having gotten him to cum just from that.

You kiss him again, and Taeyong's so soft now, collapsing against you, sinking into your kiss and your touch. He goes soft against your hand too, and you wipe your palm on his shorts.

"Guess that gives you time to get hard again before we get back to mine. I want to give you more of that skin-to-skin contact you want." You kiss him again, laughing when Taeyong moans, pushing forward into your palm. "Our friends were right. I think we'll have fun together, Taeyong."

He definitely agrees, stepping back to pull you back out of the alley, once more tugging his hoodie down to hide the cumstain.

And once you arrive at your apartment, you throw his shorts in the wash so he can wear them to work, but while they wash, Taeyong tackles you into bed to have the fun that you've promised.

#asks #taeyong drabbles #taeyong smut #nct smut #nct drabbles #i feel like i've written a lot of cumming in pants lately #and i don't know why #or at least I almost wrote it a lot

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theonewiththefanfics · 3 years

Text

Tomato - Tomato (one-shot)

Synopsis: One is an international rock-star. The other is his loyal assistant. Both are complete morons in love. Also - she’s allergic to tomatoes, and it is important.

This started off as something completely else. hope you enjoy :D

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Assistant!Reader

Genre: fluff, minor angst

Warnings: two idiots pining for one another, swearing, mentions of allergies and EpiPens

Word count: 3492

Being an assistant to someone famous wasn’t all glamourous parties and wild nights out with celebrities. It was scheduling last minute flights and not sleeping for three days straight as you packed a million bags and then repacked because their stylist sent you knew pieces and the old ones no longer fit the aesthetic of the week. It was also making sure that they were up by six AM with a hot coffee at their bedside ready to help them wake up as you lay out a detailed plan of the day down to the minute, while you yourself basically only had a two-hour nap because you had to finish off 568 handwritten notes to be sent out to each of the contacts in their phone. Or at least that’s what Y/N’s life was like being the personal assistant to none other than the modern-day prince of rock Harry Styles. Said rockstar was actually still asleep when Y/N entered his room, ripping open the curtains and letting in the rising sun. He groaned, pulling up the bedsheets that’d ridden down his form during the night. “Not that I don’t like seeing your gorgeous face in the mornings….” he mumbled into the covers. “But I don’t like seeing your face in the mornings when they start at six bloody AM.” Y/N snorted and rolled her eyes, rubbing them in an attempt to get rid of the sleep that still lingered in her own body. “You were the one that said you’re fine with seeing Lambert at eight for a fitting.” “When did I say that?” Harry scoffed, only the top of his messy bedhead seen from the cocoon he’d built around himself. “Would you like me to pull up the text messages, the calendar or the e-mails?” Even with her back turned as she rummaged through his closet for him to put on some clothes, she could sense the middle finger he threw at her, and she smiled. Despite everything, despite the zero sleep and stress always coursing through her veins, Y/N loved working for him. He treated her as a friend, not just some lackey he paid to, but most importantly, comparatively to the other people she’d worked for in the same line of business – he treated her as a human. If something went over the deadline, Harry didn’t scream or yell at her and tell Y/N how incompetent she was, instead he asked what kind of help or assistance she needed to get the job done, or maybe if she just needed some time off to gather herself and look at the problem with fresh eyes. “I hate how organised you are,” Harry groaned, finally throwing the covers off. “If I wasn’t, you’d be in a ditch somewhere.” She heard him scoff and two feet plop against the hardwood floor as he made his way towards her. “Is that how little faith you have in me?” “You don’t even know what day it is!” “Who does in these times?” Y/N shrugged her shoulders and handed him a pair of boxers, some loose jeans, and a flowery Hawaiian shirt. “Are you telling me I’m wrong though?” She looked over to her side, a smirk playing on her lips while he squinted his green eyes at her. “No, but it doesn’t mean I like getting called out, especially this early in the morning.”

With a roll of her eyes and a shove at his shoulder for him to move to the bathroom, Y/N handed him the clothes, moving downstairs to start making him some light breakfast and get herself a cold glass of water. You see, she’d been working as his assistant for close to two years, and they’d grown not only as people around one another, challenging their beliefs and world views, but as friends too. And, well, Y/N would be lying if the emotions hadn’t evolved from platonic to falling in love. Not that she’d ever admit it. He was an international sensation, and she was the girl who got him vegetarian croissants at the airport. She dragged a hand down her face as she clicked the stove on and took out a carton of eggs from the fridge. Y/N knew how he liked his omelette to the T, mostly because when she’d spent the first night of quarantine with him a year prior right as the pandemic had started, Harry had wanted to do something nice because she couldn’t go and see her family any more, so he’d gotten up at seven to make breakfast for both of them. The only problem was, he hadn’t asked if she had any allergies, so as he added bits of tomatoes, parsley, cheese and scallions, Harry hadn’t expected Y/N’s eyes to go wide at the first bite as she dropped the fork. “Harry…” Her tone had been cautious. “What’s in this?” He was sweating. Was his cooking really that bad? He just wanted to do something nice and there he was screwing everything up. “ ‘S just some of my favourite things. I’m sorry I didn’t ask, I just thought you’d like it.” “I do, but this tastes like it has tomatoes in it.” He nodded. “Yeah. It does.” Gently she smiled at him and pushed the plate a bit further away. “Could you grab me a coat, and if you have any – an EpiPen?” “An Epi – oh shit!” When the realisation hit him, Harry was jumping out of his seat, running to one of the cupboards and rummaging through in a panic all the while apologies flew non-stop from his mouth. Y/N in the meantime had gathered her purse and mask, making a call to the nearest hospital to explain the situation to which they responded they’d be waiting for her arrival. “I’m so sorry!” Harry ran up to her, a first-aid kit in his shaking hands. “Please don’t die! I didn’t want to kill you, I promise! I just wanted to make you some breakfast cause you do so much for me, and now you’re stuck here, and – oh god,” he cried. “I’m going to be prosecuted for killing my assistant.” She didn’t mean to, but the snort came out of her nose either way. “Harry.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “Please calm down. I’m not going to die.” “You’re allergic!” “Yes, I am, but I only had a small bite. The ER is just a precaution.” Y/N took his palms in hers and squeezed them. “Now take a deep breath with me…” They did so, holding it for five seconds and letting it out for eight. “And calm down a bit. I’ll go give myself the shot, and then I’ll drive to the hospital.” “Let me,” Harry begged. “Please, let me at least drive you to the emergency room. God, I almost killed you with an omelette, it’s the least I can do. I – I could also help you with the shot, I won’t hit an artery, I promise -” “Harry, you’re barely coherent. Not to say anything, but you’d have a bigger chance of killing me in a car crash, than from that tomato.” Y/N gave him a smile. “I’m gonna be fine.” With that, she left him to venture into the bathroom and did the unpleasant part of stabbing herself in the thigh to alleviate her body from the allergy symptoms. She sat there for around five minutes before she felt that the swelling of her tongue and itching in her throat was starting to subside, which meant the epinephrine was working. “Okay,” she huffed, taking her purse from the couch where Harry had been sitting, hugging the accessory. “I’ll be back in probably around two hours. Do we need anything from the store?” He shook his head. “Just come back home, please.” Y/N would never admit how her heart thundered in her chest when Harry said to come back ‘home’. “I will.” She promised. “Don’t you worry. You’re not getting rid of me that easy, Styles. The money’s too good.” She winked at him and then left Harry pouting on the couch, but she couldn’t get through the door, before he jumped up, yelling, “wait! Do I need to get rid of every tomato in the house?” “No,” she laughed. “I’m good to be around them. Even touch them. ‘S just my insides that don’t agree with it when they meet.” “Okay.” He nodded, hands on his hips. “Alright. I’ll uh – I’ll be waiting. I’ll make you something else.” “There’s no need for that, Harry.” His eyes widened at her words. “I swear I’m not trying to murder you!” “Oh my god,” she muttered shaking her head. “Just – just relax. Okay. I’ll send you hourly updates.” He bit his lip. “Make it every ten minutes.” “Harry –,” “Please?” The way he was giving her puppy dog eyes melted her heart. With an eye-roll, Y/N waved at him and promised to update her boss at every possible moment and confirm that he hadn’t, in fact, been the reason for her demise. Well, he was the reason for the demise of her low standards in men, having taken them and thrown them up to the Moon, but unless her feelings were miraculously requited or if one of the Marvel characters, she was obsessed with came to life, she’d have to stick to what was available. And in her mind, that wasn’t Harry. “What are you thinking about?” His voice startled Y/N out of the memory, and she shook her head, adding salt and pepper to the beaten eggs. She shrugged. “Just about that time a year ago where you secretly tried to off me because you were too nice to say you didn’t wanna quarantine together.” The groan he let out was of royal embarrassment, and it put a wide smile on her face, as she took one of the forsaken fruits and started to chop the red ball into small pieces. “You’ll never let me live it down, are you?” Y/N raised her eyebrow at him. “Your failed murder attempt?” She snorted. “Of course not! It’s like you don’t watch the crime shows and murder documentaries when I have them on. You really haven’t learned anything.” Harry stuck his tongue out at her and moved to her side, dropping some chives into the mix as well. “Well given how it wasn’t a murder attempt, I wouldn’t consider it a fail.” Her hip bumped his, and only then did Y/N really give him a once-over. As always, he looked amazing in whatever was on his body, but what made him even cuter in her eyes was the sleepiness still lingering in him. Harry’s movements were a little bit sluggish, eyes half-closed and small sighs passing his lips as he sipped onto the coffee she’d come to his place with. The shirt sat loosely on his body, the first two buttons left open while he’d tucked the bottom of it into the jeans, having found a Gucci belt and cinched it around his waist, giving it a more eighties look rather than the sixties vibe he usually had with his suits. The brown hair was still messy and dishevelled, and Y/N could barely, just barely restrain herself from running her fingers through it, but what she didn’t know Harry was struggling just as much. All he wanted to do was pull out the bottom lip Y/N had gotten in between her teeth and kiss her senseless, to have her fingers dig into his arms and leave crescent shaped imprints on his skin. “So, uh…” He had to start a conversation otherwise his mouth would find itself on Y/N’s mouth in a second. “What’s Lambert got in his schedule? How many outfits is he thinking?” “Two or three, I think,” she said, pouring the mixture on the pan and letting the slow sizzle erupt around them. “He’s got this one suit which I think you’ll really like – all leather, but it needs to be altered.” Harry hummed, and for a second both of them relished in the domestic feel of it all. They’d had many moments like it before, especially during the spring and summer seasons of 2020, and Y/N couldn’t help but relish in her memories at them. “Harry?” It was like her voice snapped him out from a trance. “Could you pass me a plate please?’ “Uh, yeah,” he stammered for a moment and then nodded, wordlessly going to a cupboard and taking out a white marbled plate. That single piece of kitchenware probably cost more than her life insurance, but it was definitely aesthetic if nothing else. Silently Y/N plopped the omelette onto the plate, placing it on the kitchen counter and went to get him a fork, however when she turned around, he was facing her, chewing quite agressively on the inside of his cheek. “You okay?” she asked, coming closer. “I can call Lambert, reschedule it for later. He wouldn’t be too happy about having to wake up and then – “ But Harry shook his head. “It’s not that.” “Then what?” He didn’t say anything. It was like he was trying to decipher the best course of action, and when he ultimately did, Y/N was pressed up against the counter, Harry’s forehead against hers with two ring-clad hands cupping her cheeks. “Harry,” she breathed, out her lips brushing his making the air in her lungs hitch. “What are you doing?” “Something I’ve been dying to do for a year now. If you let me that is.” “I -,” The words were muddled up in her head. Of course, Y/N wanted him to kiss her, she wanted him to ravish every part of her body. The fantasies and dreams she’d had at night would be incriminating proof if her feelings were on trial, but despite it all, her brain was usually in charge and would overrule any decision made by her heart. “Harry, we can’t.” She whispered, voice breaking. “I -,” Horror morphed onto his features as he took a step back. “Did I misread the signals? Did I do something you don’t wan –“ “No.” She grabbed onto his cheeks, trying to calm him down, his body practically melting into hers. “I do.” She didn’t need to explain what she meant. He understood. “So much it hurts me sometimes… but Harry, you’re my boss. My employer. It… it wouldn’t be right.” “Why? How can it not be right, when it feels like the rightest thing in the world?” “Because, Harry,” she huffed. “You’re my boss. And what’s worse – I love working for you!” That made both of them laugh, the tone of her voice as if she was more annoyed than anything else. “ ‘Nd why’s that bad?” He nudged her nose with his. “I’d hope my employees like working with me. What kind of a person would I be if I thrived on them being miserable?” “Because if I didn’t, quitting would be easy.” She raised her eyebrow at him. “And if I quit there’d be nothing stopping us from dating.” Harry bit his lip, finger trailing along her cheekbone. “There’s nothing stopping us now either. There is no clause in your contract that says you can’t date people who you work for or with. Sarah’s with Mitch, and they’re the happiest they’ve ever been. They’re even having a baby…” Y/N gave him a sympathetic smile. “I know. But that’s different. They’re on equal levels. You and I, however… I don’t want people to think I got my job because I slept with you, or some shit. It’s bad enough some already do so.” His brows furrowed, and Y/N saw how his jaw clenched. “Who?” “Strangers.” She shrugged. “I know you don’t look at comments like that online, but I see them. My DMs are filled with that. Gossip magazines. The point is – there are already unsubstantiated rumours about us. This would give them the confirmation they’d need.” “How can it confirm something that’s not true?” “There are still people who believe vaccines cause autism. Even when their ‘proof’ has been discredited and shown to be just complete bullshit, most don’t like to admit they’re wrong, so they’ll look for whatever tells them they’re right.” Harry huffed throwing his head back to look at the ceiling. “So, where does that leave us? In love, but without being able to do anything about it? Because I can’t.” He shook his head. “I won’t be able to just pass you by without kissing you, or not pull you into the bed when you wake me up, or press you against the wall and not have my head between these two gorgeous legs.” Y/N groaned slapping his chest and dropping her forehead against his peck. “That is so unfair. Why do you have to tease me like that!” “Oh, sweetheart.” The rumble was deep and shot a wave of heat straight to her core. “This is no teasing.” The smirk on his face when she looked up at him was shit-eating. “Trust me, if I was teasing, you’d be begging for me.” She’d imagined him between her thighs more times than it was appropriate considering he was her boss, but hot damn, did it feel amazing when his lips crashed onto hers, and she let him. In her dreams, his lips hadn’t been just pressed to her mouth but other places which were more south, but it was still one of the best feelings in the world. The kiss left them both breathless, and grinning and satisfied, yet begging for more, teeth nipping at the soft flesh. “I’ll put out an official statement, if you want,” Harry muttered against her mouth, unable to stop pecking her lips now that’d he’d gotten a taste. “But please, please, please… for both our sanities go out on a date with me.” It seemed like Y/N was the one contemplating the best plan of action now when her brows furrowed and she looked up at him, pressing and unpressing her lips, as the swelling from the kiss grew. “Did you by any chance have a piece of that omelette already?” She had a suspicion it wasn’t just from the kiss. His eyes widened, and then his head dropped to her shoulder. “Not again!” Y/N rolled her eyes lifting his face by the chin so he would look at her. “How about EpiPen first?” “Fair enough,” Harry grumbled unlatching himself from her and going for his keys and wallet, already preparing for the short drive they’d have to take. “But then a date?” She raised her eyebrow, taking out the box Harry now kept under the sink with at least three EpiPen’s for emergencies. “In a hospital?” “We could be going dumpster diving for all I care, and I’d count it as a date.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “You’ll have to do so much better than that; you’ve almost put me in anaphylactic shock twice. Now come on.” She motioned with her head towards the bathroom. “Stab me and take me to the ER.” “Fucking tomatoes,” Harry grumbled, taking her by the hand and not letting it go even for the short walk. “Tomato-tomato, you’re the one that kissed me.” “That I don’t regret.” Y/N smiled, turning towards him, and taking him by the nape of his neck pulled Harry down for one more kiss, groaning at the feeling of his tongue dancing against hers. “Y/N!” He pulled back with a gasp, shock on his face. She just shrugged her shoulders. “We’re already going to see the doctors anyway.” Harry pushed her shoulder and made her sit down onto the toilet. “Take your pants off before my kisses kill you.” “Yes, daddy.” Y/N wiggled her eyebrows as Harry moaned, squeezing her calf. His eyes were dark as he looked up at her. “Next time this happens, you’ll be begging me.” Her wicked smile was so full of happiness he couldn’t help the one that grew on his face. “I’ll be keeping you to it. Now, dear sir.” She handed him the EpiPen. “Hit me with your best shot.” And although it’d been now two times in their lives where Harry trying to do something good and make the other feel just as good had done pretty much the opposite, when they got to the emergency room, their smiles could be felt even under their masks Harry watched with blushing cheeks as Y/N explained the situation to the nurse, especially when one of them threw him an unsavoury glance, eyebrow raised high as if saying ‘again? One time wasn’t enough?’. “No more tomatoes.” He promised. “And also - it wasn’t on purpose!” Y/N squeezed his palm, chuckling. She may not be able to give a shot at eating a tomato, but she sure as hell was going to give Harry one. After all, she had almost died for the man. Twice.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Harry Styles tags: @breezykpop @girlboss99 @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist @alliyjane @sirtommyholland @raylovessarcasm @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @harryhub

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

A/N: I’m at work and I wanted to write a bit for my book, but hahahahahahaha I can’t stop procrastinating. Also, this was something comepletely else centered around Christmas, then New Year and the Valentines, but I just couldn’t and it morphed into this. Maybe this Holiday season when it rolls around I’ll post it :D

P.S. if anyone’s had a septoplasty (repositioning of the septum) - how was it? how painful is it? kinda starting my journey towards it cause apparently I can’t breathe out of my left nostril, but I’m kinda scared ngl. I’ve read some horror stories about having holes and pieces of the cartilage fall out afterwards :///

P.S.S. what did ya think? my tags are always open, just drop a message if you wanna be added :)

P.S.S.S please don’t plagiarise or repost my work on other platforms (wattpad, AO3 etc)

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x reader smut #harry styles x assistant!reader #harry styles au #fanfic #fanfics #one direction #one direction imagine #1d fan fiction #1d

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