#is that it's probably the ONE thing that you can start doing for yourself for VERY little investment

[pensbridge]

taking this idea from the comments, but idk if anyone wants to be noticed --The replies can be used as a blocklist for people who genuinely think replying/reblogging to start an argument is the right option.

my additional thoughts: like, if we're talking headcanons or character interpretations, ppl are allowed to have different ones to you and you're allowed to disagree & post on your blog (probably wouldn't frame it as replying to a post directly)--who tf would "open a discussion in replies"? (it's never that serious; let ppl have their own headcanons, and you're allowed to post what you want on your blog)...and if it's a 'silly little fandom take,' personally I think I'd hate someone trying to talk me into a different take (that isn't gonna change for either of us, anyway), or REBLOGGING TO DISAGREE (the worst fandom offense), more than "vagueposting," anyway but idk what the context is with this hypothetical, tbh. I think "vagueposting" doesn't really seem like the appropriate thing, unless it's something really serious (because if it's something about behavior, a terrible person (or group of people) isn't gonna admit to their faults anyway)...but like posting because you saw something less serious and it inspired a post from you ... is that not completely normal and acceptable?? ...like, in that case, it's not about disagreeing w/a specific person/"calling someone out." Ideas are often born from differing viewpoints. (sorry, long thoughts; does this make sense) It's not that serious. No one needs to say, "[blank user] said [x] and I think [y];" just write your take and move on without addressing who/what post. The general consensus I'm getting from some of these replies (not the vote) is some people find it disrespectful to not have a 1-on-1 discusssion with people directly, but seems they don't respect their own opinion enough to be agreed upon in the first place...someone who is posting is not thinking, "hmm i wonder if everyone agrees with my take;" they just post it and see who does. Shrugging and moving on I'll do, but for people saying something bothers them & they just let "the fandom thought" be....is that not just silencing yourself for what's supposed to be your personal space...due to what you have taken as a "fandom agreement"? I mean, post what you want. Sorry for being so long-winded and chaotic in these thoughts.

sometimes I will put thoughts in the tags if I at least agree with the general idea/it's not an attack, and I think the user will not take offense, but idk sometimes ppl can feel disrespected in their take with that (and I get it, I guess) + I tend to just not reblog things I disagree with to a large extent.

i actually need to know people's thoughts on this because at least in my experience the answer to this has drastically changed since i was on tumblr in the 2010s and its driving me fucking insane

*im talking about fandom takes specifically. not someone being horribly evil about a real-life issue or or blatantly factually incorrect. literally just harmless fandom disagreements or differing interpretations of a text/character/etc.

[naomi-nana]

Firstly, your writing is amazing!! Secondly, this idea has been marinating in my head for weeks- Could you write how the housewardens would react to reader taking extra classes to get enough credits so they can graduate with the housewardens, so that they won’t be alone? Sorry if this doesn’t make much sense, English is not my first language. Thank you!

✎ᝰ. just a little longer . twisted wonderland

in which you take extra classes to skip grades so you can graduate with them, but you ended up getting sick instead. how would they react?

featuring : housewardens

cw : gn!reader, might be ooc(esp vil, azul n idia because idk how to write for them), bad grammars, hurt/comfort angst

a/n : thank you, anon!! that means a lot to me T^T i changed it a little bit to reader becomes sick after all of that, if that's okay. thank you for the request! i enjoyed writing this!

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

while he respects your diligence, riddle also knows where the limit lies.

when he saw how sick you were on his way to go to the headmage's office to submit a paperwork, riddle almost dropped everything to the ground.

immediately approaches you in full panic but also trying to stay composed housewarden mode.

"you look unwell. is it because of all those extra classes? i understand that you want to broaden your knowledge, but you mustn't pass your limit. it will not help you in any way. it will just burden you."

but when you tell him that it's all because you want to graduate with him, so you don't feel lonely? riddle breaks. he feels something in him starts to melt, but he doesn't know what it is. you're telling him that you did all of this for him? he feels tears starting to swell in the corner of his eyes, but he composes himself.

"don't ... don't say things like that. i'm not gonna leave you, love. even if i graduate first, that won't mean i won't contact you at all after that. so, there is no need to push yourself so far, okay? i still have around a year and a half here, too. so we'd have plenty of time to spend, and you won't feel lonely at all. i promise you that."

but if you insist on doing all those extra classes, riddle won't stop you. just expect him to offer to help you in your studies and also to check on you each time to make sure you have your studies and rest well balanced.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

he probably already knows what you're doing and what your goal is by accidentally eavesdropping on your conversation with one of your friends.

would say something like, "what makes you think i'll graduate this year?"

but if you actually come back looking all exhausted from all the extra classes you took, expect to have meals already served by the time you got to your dorm room. also, a little note beside it that says, "i ordered ruggie to do this but be ok"

that man ... be ok? seriously? even cockroaches can write better love letters. you sighed, sitting on the couch. and that's when you suddenly feel a random pair of hands sneaking up your waist. "what the-" it's leona.

"heh, you thought i didn't do jack shit didn't you? well, guess what? yours truly bought the ingredients himself and delivered it here. walking. where's your thanks, hm?"

you smack his hands away with a frown, but you did thank him in the end. how did he even know you haven't eaten at all? and did he seriously wait for you to come home for like, an hour? also, what the hell did he use to camouflage so easily with the couch?

"i appreciate your effort, but no need to worry your pretty lil' head over it. even if i graduate, you think i'll leave you alone?"

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

this man is both happy and worried sick at the same time. it's the first time someone made such a huge effort to stay by his side forever, since people usually go out of their way to not be acquainted with him back then.

but he's also very worried if one day you come back late, hair disheveled, clothes wrinkled, and eyebags so visible even floyd can see it from five nautical miles. he'd ask what the hell you did to have such a messy look and also have a mild fever at the same time with a really shaky voice.

would order jade to make you some tea and begged floyd to go outside to buy some medicine, any medicine, from sam's shop. "oh, thank the seven it is only a mild fever. what did you do for this to happen?! i didn't know that taking extra classes could result in ... ugh, but i guess if you don't take proper rest, it is bound to happen."

when he hears that you did this all for him, he absolutely breaks. "what ...? you shouldn't have ... look, listen, i- i'm not gonna leave you even if i graduate first, you know? i'll stay by your side, no matter what happens. so, don't do this again, okay?"

if you really want to, he'd offer to persuade the headmage to give you higher grades so you can easily skip grades, but of course, you refused. that same night, azul will stay by your bed until you fall asleep first. (he slept first instead)

KALIM AL-ASIM

almost stumbles and falls to the ground running towards scarabia's entrance when jamil says you're waiting for him there. how could he not? earlier today, you had texted him that you feel as if you're having a fever from the amount of studying you did. reading that text alone almost made kalim faint.

he was about to come and escort you to scarabia himself using his magic carpet, but jamil stopped him, saying that flight would worsen your condition. so kalim waited in the lounge, pacing around the room impatiently and also worryingly.

"name!" almost tackles you to the ground but stops himself and slaps his own face for almost making your condition worse. "oh, god! i was worried sick when you said you have a fever! let's come inside, okay? jamil already cooked hot soup for you!"

if you decided to tell him about your reason for studying and began to cry while doing so, kalim almost falls to his knees. "hey, don't cry ... i'll cry, too! hiks ... i'm sorry for making you feel so lonely ... i'll make it up to you somehow, so stop pushing yourself, okay?"

would feel really bad and also overthinks where he made you feel so lonely to the point you have to literally push your limits just to spend time with him. if you assured him it's not your fault, he'll hug you. "i'm sorry ... please don't scare me like that again."

VIL SCHOENHEIT

immediately knows because rook probably knows about it first somehow and couldn't keep his mouth shut

he would invite you to his dorm room and lightly scold you about it. "i understand you want to have better grades so you can skip grades, but seriously ... there is a better way to do it rather than throwing yourself to random classes that don't align with your interest." he sighed while applying his newly bought eye cream to your eyebags.

he would give you tips while scolding you to also take better care of yourself. but when he notices you're starting to frown at his words, his eyes soften for just a moment.

"name ... i do love you, you know that, right? i am telling you this because i care for you. i don't want you to become sick just because you don't want me to graduate first. i'm sorry if i ever made you feel lonely in our relationship to the point that it makes you do something like this."

he'd caress your face, run a hand through your hair, and kiss the top of your head. "the last thing i would want to do is for me to make you feel lonely, my dear."

IDIA SHROUD

what? you're kidding, right? you're getting extra classes for him? an antisocial weirdo like him? this is like, a super rare event that happens once in a lifetime!

all jokes aside, he'd be worried (and shocked) if ortho came barging into his room with you behind him while yelling, "big brother! name is sick because they've been taking extra classes!", then throwing you—gently—on the ground.

"w-w-what the?! ortho! d-don't just leave them here!" genuinely nervous and doesn't know what to do. but if he notices that your breathing started to become quicker and unstable, and you also looks like you're about to faint, he'll (try) to calm himself down.

then, he'll offer his bed for you to lay on. "d-do you feel better now? i can ask ortho to make tea ... if u want. uh, i heard from the headmage you've been taking extra classes. why tho? that's like, throwing yourself into a scary hard mode dungeon. i appreciate the dedication, tho."

if you told him it's because you don't want him to graduate first and leave you alone, he'll feel terrible. he feels bad that he's the cause of your suffering, and he's immediately convinced why someone like him doesn't have that many friends because of that.

"calm down, i didn't mean it that way. i just don't want to feel lonely, that's all. i didn't say that you were the one at fault." you'll have to reassure him over and over that this is all your wish and not his fault at all. he's also probably the type to stay by your bed while playing games until you feel better lol

MALLEUS DRACONIA

this man was absolutely mortified(and touched) when he finds out that you've been secretly taking extra classes just to skip grades and graduate together with him. not only that, you also get sick because of those extra classes. that's what makes him mortified.

when he first saw how weak and frail you become after a week of extra classes, he thinks that humans are so fragile and easy to break. but he also feels bad and would offer you to sleep in his dorm for the time being until you feel better.

malleus would also be the type to confront crowley directly just to ask some questions. even if this isn't connected to the guy at all, he just wants to hear answers from the headmage himself.

anyways, expect him to ask you questions too. like: "are you still having a fever? would you like me to make some tea for you? is this bed comfortable enough, dearest?" and so much more. he would also be running around in the kitchen by himself if you said you were craving for some soup.

(sebek would want to yell at you for ordering malleus around, but holds himself back because he doesn't want to make malleus even more stressed.)

he would often ask lilia what he should do when this or that happens, and of course, being the kind man he is, he answers the question thoroughly(not without a little bit of teasing, of course). malleus would also want to put a stop to your extra classes.

"beloved, i understand your desire to stay by my side, but i won't tolerate it if you become sick just because of that. if you do not wish to become lonely, you can tell me, and i shall be by your side the moment my name leaves your lips."

naomi-nana. do NOT repost, do not use (with or without permission), do not recommend or talk about my works outside of tumblr.

[dragonsondragons]

Part 1 - That Look In Your Eye | You Should Probably Leave series

You make big, bad, Jack Abbot nervous in a way he really isn’t used to. He fumbles his first attempt to invite you to the party, so Dr. Ellis gives him a crash course in how to get the girl.

Word Count: 3.9k

Content: yearning!jack, medical social worker!reader, reader is Jack’s work crush, slow burn, Jack on his #healingjourney, awkward abbot, unspecified age gap, named reader because I dont like using y/n (named her Nel, short for Eleanor. And yes Nel will be friends with Mel)

Read the Prologue! / Masterlist / Taglist

Author's Note: Sorry this took me sooo long to get together! I have the next few parts mapped out well and and mostly written tbh but was struggling so hard with how to introduce their interaction and dynamic in this part. Also, I would highly highly recommend reading the prologue before this part. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

In the Pitt, Jack was seen as a very confident man. He knows exactly what he’s capable of and precisely how to execute it most efficiently. It's one thing unshaken in all his years practicing medicine. No matter how low he’s felt– in war zones, in the pitt– he always stays steady under fire. Words and procedures are tools. He uses them to achieve a goal: keep the patient alive. Be calm, cool, concise. 

It's something he learned in combat, that medics aren't just healers and fighters. They are a source of confidence for the whole platoon. They set the tone. A force multiplier. He was supposed to keep a level head and know what to do, no hesitating. If he stayed cool everyone else would follow suit. 

He had to to seem confident on the outside, but never let himself feel it too much on the inside. If you feel too confident, you start to forget that there is just one critical moment, one mistake, standing between your patient and death.

Jack couldn't help but feel that way now, like he was one mistake from ruining his chances with you. Deep breath. No ones going to die, he repeats in his head. It's one of the constant reminders he’s had to give himself when anxiety spikes. Another deep breath.

He was supposed to be a confident guy. Asking out the girl you liked shouldn’t be so hard. 

But there was a disconnect for him, between what was shown to the world– a self assured master of his craft– and what he felt on the inside. Analyzing every little mistake so that he can be better for next time. Never letting himself feel too secure, always striving for better. Battling between his desires and that loud voice inside, telling him to isolate. 

Because of that voice his social confidence was a lot more shakey than his work persona. For the most part he can fake it till he makes it or keep enough distance from people that it doesn't matter. But then there was you, slowly drawing him out of his shell. Bit by bit so that he barely saw it coming until it hit him like a truck. He should have seen it a long time ago. But he likes you and there's no denying it now. He's decided he's gonna try and do something about it, and that requires some guts and smooth talking he’s not sure if he's capable of.

He pulls into his parking space in the hospital garage, yearning for you hard. He worked himself up all the way here and now that it's at the forefront of his brain he can’t resist the urge to be near you. 

You’ve got the guts, he tells himself, willing it to be true. Just invite her to the party. Just be yourself? Is that who he wanted to show her? This fucked up guy who can barely work up the courage to ask her one simple phrase. There it goes again; his mind working against him.

He walked in through the ambulance bay, backpack slung over one shoulder. Immediately, he saw you. You were sitting at the hub checking the patient census that had just come into your inbox from the day shift and radiating something bright. Maybe it was just him who saw you as the sun.

Now or never. He walked towards the large central desk and slung his backpack under an inner counter. He leaned down on his elbows behind the computer you worked at, thrumming his fingers against the counter top. “Hey, You.” 

His familiar greeting made your stomach flip and you couldn't help but smile. It had been a few days since your shifts had aligned. “Good evening, Dr Abbot,” you hum to him, eyes tearing away from your screen to look up into his hazel eyes. 

Suddenly his pep talk to himself in the car flew out the window. With you sitting right before him, everything inside his mind was gone. You sure didn't mind gazing into Jack’s eyes, in fact you enjoyed it, but the silence was dragging on so you broke it. 

“Missed you at lunch yesterday. I had to eat with Shen and he would not shut up about a big high pressure weather system moving in or something.” There was a pressure system building in Jack's chest. He wanted to respond but was caught up inside his mind. Missed you at lunch, echoed in his mind. She missed me? More pressure flared. 

“Everything okay, Jack?” you asked, head tilting as you looked at him so caringly. 

“Huh?”

“Seems like you’re somewhere else right now. And that look in your eyes, there’s something you’re not telling me.” She could always read him like a book. 

He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Sorry. Got a lot on my mind right now.” He was going to continue to deflect, as usual. But she was already onto him. This was his chance. Might as well just come out with it. “Actually I uh was wondering of yo–” Your pager screamed out through the ED and you looked down at it on your waistband. He deflated. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, dayshift always has them on the highest volume.” You read the message coming in and started gathering stuff from the desk around you. “I have to get going to see this patient before discharge. What was it you were wondering though?”  

“Uh… I, um. I was just gonna ask if you, um. Brought your lunch today?”  Fuck. He lost all his steam when that pager went off.

“You know I always do.” You were standing up from the swivel chair now. “Same time as usual? Just page me if you're not gonna be able to make it?” He gives you one of his awkward thumbs up with both hands and says “See you up there,” as you turn to go see the patient. You smile back over your shoulder at him.

He leaned down and put his head between his hands on the counter top while chastising himself for his failed attempt at asking you out. 

He hadn’t registered Dr. Ellis off to the other side of the hub during this whole interaction, having been so focused on whatever it is between him and you that draws him in. A laugh burst out that snapped him out of his pity party. “What the hell was that, Abbot?” said Ellis, thoroughly amused at seeing a guy like Dr. Abbot who is so typically composure and competence fumble. “You can do a REBOA in your sleep but can’t flirt with a woman?”

He lifted his head slightly and glared. “Who said I was flirting?”

“Well, you certainly weren’t successfully flirting. But it would take a fool not to see that you like her.” He laid his head back down and groaned at that. Despite his current embarrassment, Jack liked working with Dr. Ellis more than most other people. He appreciated her no nonsense approach and deft skills. And the fact that she's not afraid of him. She will tell it to him like it is. He knew that interaction was bad, but if Ellis was confirming… then it was really terrible. 

“I don't know, I just… panicked.” How can he stay so calm when someone’s bleeding to death but couldn't do this one thing when faced with you. 

“Did you bring your lunch?!” she echoed him. “That was really what you came up with? What were you really trying to ask her?” He hesitated. But Ellis seemed to already know so much about this whole situation. Guess he wasn’t as close to the chest with his crush as he thought. Maybe he should let her give him some advice. 

“I’m having a party at my place soon, and I was trying to ask her to come,” he admitted.

Ellis raised one eyebrow. “You're having a party?” She never thought she would hear that come out of his mouth. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, I'm having a party for everyone from work, you’re invited. That's not the point. Point is I had my chance and I chickened out.”

“Yeah, you did. You have absolutely no game, old timer.” 

“I have game, just… not in that particular instance. I'm out of practice,” he tries to defend himself.  

“Clearly. But I can help you with that.”

“She totally can,” Dr. Santos interjected. Santos had been trying out a rotation on the night shift and had just finished up with a patient in curtain 3 nearby. Always the eavesdropper, she tuned in to the conversation between Abbot and Ellis as she had approached the hub. “Dr. Ellis has got mad game, trust me.” Ellis rolls her eyes at the overzealous intern. “Wait–we’re talking about you getting nervous around Nel right?” 

“Wha-No. I don't get nervous around Nel.” Both women scoff at him. Jack’s eyes widen and turns to Ellis for a sidebar. “How do you both know about this? I don't want to make this a thing. If she's not into me I don't want her to be uncomfortable at work.” He can't be careless about this, needs to do it right. 

“Abbot, be so serious,” she deadpans. “She’s totally into you.”

“You don't know that,” Jack huffs. How do they know if you're into him? He barely let himself know he was into you until therapy earlier today. Santos and Ellis share a look. Santos butts in again, “Dude, it's so obvious. Her eyes literally twinkle when you're in the same room.”

“Don't dude me right now, Santos,” Jack snaps. Do they? Twinkle for him? He hopes so. But he doesn't want to get his hopes up. God, this whole thing is putting him so on edge. 

Ellis sees how uncomfortable Jack’s getting and jumps in. “The grownups are talking here, Dr. Santos. Guy over in North 12 needs his bowel dismipacted, go.” As she reluctantly leaves to go handle the literal shit that's been assigned to her, Ellis tunes back into the conversation with Jack.  

“She's right though, it's obvious you're both smitten. You’ve just gotta shoot your shot, man.” He takes a deep breath to steady himself at the thought. “What are you planning to say?” 

He hesitates. Drums his thumbs against the counter top again. “How about I'm having a party. You can come, if you want.”

“God, this is why I date women. You're useless.” 

“You said you would help!”

“Look–that's way too passive. Sounds like you don't care if she comes or not. Women like when you're sincere and confident. Usually that's your forte, but I guess not when you’re nervous about your crush. Try to tune in to that Abbot, ya know, direct and to the point.”

If I say what I actually mean, Jack thinks, it will be ‘I think you're smart and caring and beautiful, and I like spending time with you at work. And more than anything, I’d like to see you outside of this hell hole…preferably…all the time.’ He’s staring off into the abyss now.

“Oh my god, you're so in your head. Just be normal, be yourself! Say Hey, I'm having a party. I would really like it if you came.”  

“Got it, yeah. Be normal.” 

She huffs at his nervousness. “If you don't grow a spine and ask her out, I will,” Ellis jests, giving him a little incentive. 

“C'mon, give me a chance here.”

“She's hot, kind. Seems like a really great person. So you better snatch her up before someone else does.”

—

It was just before 1am when your stomach started to grumble, queuing you that it was almost your normal “lunch” time. You finished up your case note you were working on, grabbed your food from the breakroom fridge, and headed up to the roof. 

Lunch with Jack was always a highlight of your shift. No matter how shitty a patient had treated you or how many problems you had encountered that day, sitting with him for just a few minutes always made it feel like you were free of the hospital. Returning to your shift after those moments with him, the fluorescent lights turned softer and long hospital hallways less suffocating. 

It happened by accident really, the two of you becoming lunch buddies. You brought your lunch box up to the roof to get some air while you took a break. He was already up there, leaning up against the railing staring out at the city beyond the hospital. He wasn't expecting a visitor, didn’t encounter many others up there, but suddenly there was you. An angel of the night.  

When you pushed open the door of the stairwell to see him staring out at the skyline, you remember thinking that this man looked like a beacon high up above the rest of the city, standing steady and sending out a signal. Looking out over the whole city and asking who’s there? Free in the dark of night to admit that he was seeking connection. 

From the very first moment, you read him eerily well. And you approached. Because you were seeking the same thing. 

You struck up a conversation with him and offered him half of your sandwich. Kept doing so until he started bringing his own food too, usually whatever had the quickest doordash delivery time. He made you laugh with his dry and dark humor. Shared silence with you when you were both too tired to speak, or listened to you ramble about the book you were reading or some movie you had watched. Sometimes he had questions.  ____

“Have you ever heard of the Four Agreements?” he asked one night. You picked through some of the Chinese food he had ordered from the 24 hour place down the street, while he took a bite out of the apple you had packed. You chuckle a little at his question. 

“Why are you laughing at me?” he asks.

“Sorry– it's just. As someone who works in a mental health bubble, the Four Agreements is like… the bible of self help. And it's a little cliche.”

“You’re calling Linda cliche?”

“Who’s Linda?"

“My therapist. She recommended it."

“Look at you, doing therapy.”

He gave you a little shrug. “Thanks. So I shouldn’t read it? If it's cliche."

“No, no, It could still be useful. Give it a try.”  ____

He also surprised you with these bursts of intense vulnerability, sparsed out between his usually more gruff or sarcastic responses. 

Whenever he was about to reveal something to you, you could almost see it coming. He would always position himself next to you, leaning over on the railing and facing out over Pittsburg like he was that first night you found him up here. He wouldn’t look in your eyes like he usually did. Would just stand next to you there and focus on some point, far out on the horizon. He’d be quiet for a while, and you would just wait, just being there with him. 

____

“That guy we both saw today, the boarder in North 7?” 

“Yeah?” you encouraged him to continue. 

“I know him. Well not him, really, but his brother. We served together. He lost his brother the same day I lost my leg.” He pulled up the hem of his scrub pants a bit to reveal a glimpse of his prosthetic.

“Oh…Jack. I’m so sorry. That must bring up a lot of old memories.”

“It was a long time ago. Can’t change it now.” He wants to pull away from the exposure he felt at saying this to you. But you draw out something in him. Sharing with you is easier sometimes, and he doesn't know why. It's because he’s falling in love with you and hasn't let himself admit it yet.

“Doesn’t mean it can’t still hurt.” You’re always trying to encourage him to feel.

“Yeah... still hurts like hell. Hurts more because I hadn’t thought about Eddie in months, maybe years. I forgot about him.” 

You turn your head to face him, frowning. He maintains his gaze on some faraway spot. “You can’t blame yourself for that. If you remembered them all every second of every day you would drive yourself crazy.” 

He took a shaky breath in and just nodded. That was as much opening up he could take for the moment. “I gotta go back down there, check on the patients,” he says, letting the voice telling him to run win, for now.

You pause for a beat, trying to replicate his own incessant gaze that would always get you break and look up at him. The trick doesn’t work on its own master. He continues to put that distance between you and stares out at the city beyond the roof, then down at his feet. 

“Okay. But just be careful with yourself, Jack. And if you ever want to talk more, I’m here.” You jutted your hip out to bump his, trying to coax him out of his unease, show him that it was okay to open up to you. He stood fully up from the railing, giving you a double thumbs up. That was becoming his signature move with you when he didn't quite know what to say. He kept doing it because it always made you smile.  ____

Sometimes his appearances on the roof were just as scattered as his ability to show vulnerability. After times where he opened up you might not see him for days. He would go brood and throw himself into the work to get his mind off the memories, or off of you, when the way you were making him feel scared him a little too much. He would chastise himself for letting his feelings slip out like that. Would convince himself that you didn't want to hear anything about it, no matter how supportive and kind you were whenever he did share. 

Deep down he longed for connection, even though he actively pushed everyone away. 

Once you found him on that roof, finally someone was pushing back. You would come and find him if he didn't show up on the roof, or send him a message as you were heading up, pestering him to come join you if you could. 

And the way you responded to him showing how he felt, admitting what ate at him inside, it started to show him that it was okay to reveal himself. It didn’t make it any less uncomfortable, but still he kept coming back to have lunch with you. 

Tonight would be just like any of those other nights, he told himself as he hiked up the stairs to the roof entry. Just be normal. 

You were already up there waiting for him when he came through the stairwell door. The light midsummer night breeze blew your hair around your face and he sensed something heavy on your mind. Brooding on the roof was usually his forte.

As he approaches you barely register his presence. He places a hand on your shoulder, which makes you jump and turn to him. “You good?” he asks gently.

“Yeah–fine.” You shake your head and give him a little smile but he sees it's not the kind that you usually flash, the kind that's earnest. He doesn’t push.

“Well, if you weren’t good I would offer some crab rangoons as a pick me up.” He lifts his takeout bag up. “But if you’re fine then you don’t need em.” 

“Gimme that,” you snatch the bag from him and dig out the rangoons. 

“That’s what I thought.” the corner of his mouth twitches into an almost-there smirk. 

You two dig into the combo of takeout and packed food spread out before you. All of his nervousness from earlier in the day had dissipated. Up here, in the dark, just the two of you, he was calm. As calm as Jack Abbot could be these days. He lets himself think about being with you like this in the daytime. Somewhere else, like having a picnic in a park where you would admire the spring flowers and he would admire you with the same reverence. 

He had to ask his question, because failing would mean missing that chance. 

“You’re looking at me like that again.” you said.

“Like what?” he keeps his gaze locked on yours like if he blinked you would disappear. 

“I don’t know. I just recognize that look in your eye.” It's the look I get when I admire you, he thinks.

“I’ll tell you what I’m thinking if you go first.” You let out a huff of a breath. “Fine. I just… I guess I’m tired– getting really tired of all the roadblocks in my work. People always need more than I’m able to give them. Shelters are always full or the patient doesn’t meet some eligibility requirement and there’s nothing I can do to change that.”

“You’re doing everything you can with what you have, that’s more than most people. You rock it in there everyday,” Jack responds. 

“I know that, in theory. It’s just been harder and harder to believe it lately.”

“Well, I’ll keep reminding you.” 

“Okay, your turn.”

He scratched the back of his neck, then forced himself to look at you head on. “Uh, I’m going to have everyone from work over at my place for a barbeque. But I wanted to, uh, make sure that you would be there, with me. And…maybe it will help you decompress from work and everything.” It was as un-awkward as he could possibly make it. 

You found his subtle bashfulness cute. It was endearing to bring the steady Jack Abbot to jumbling his words. “I would love to come.” The biggest smile you've ever seen on him spreads across Jack’s face. 

“When’s the next Saturday you’re off?” he asks.

“Two weeks from now.”

“Then that's our party then.” 

You giggle. “Our party, huh?”

“Well you’re the guest of honor, I decided.” 

“Oh, how gracious of you.”

The banter slows, both of you feeling the tension of crossing a new line that you can't go back over. It's quiet for another beat, then Jack speaks again, quietly.

“Ellis is gonna be proud of me for this one.”

“What do you mean?”

“She told me I had no game, earlier at the beginning of shift. I meant to ask you then but got too nervous. So she gave me some pointers.”

That made you blush. You had liked Jack Abbot for a while, but did not want to risk your friendship on making the first move. You didn’t want him to think that your support of him was conditional on him reciprocating feelings. You could see him deeply struggling and cared about him, just wanting to be there for him. So even though you had butterflies tingling in your stomach more and more after each encounter, you tried to keep the relationship as professional as possible. After this– him asking you to come to his party like that, admitting it made him nervous to do so. It finally showed you that you could want more with Jack. That he wanted it too. 

It emboldened you, and you reached out to lace your fingers with his. “I like you the way you are Jack. It's okay to be nervous, but please just keep being you.” 

He squeezed your hand and nodded his head. “I think I can do that sweetheart.”

[mysterymachine67]

SO, i want you to hear me out.

i have to remember all my stuff for re, but let's say we have Leon when he's still just starting out as a cop before he even goes to raccoon city and our beloved reader is a captain in the police department. Leon is a little tired after it all, filing cases and spending nights at the station. eventually the reader catches Leon while he's finishing up documenting a case and they finally get to talking. sooner rather than later they discover they share a couple hobbies and slowly they begin to talk. Leon is stressed and who else but the captain of the station is going to help him and reward him for his hard work?

PAIRING -> Leon S. Kennedy x M!Reader

SUMMARY -> Leon’s new, a rookie. He does his best, stays late to do and catch up on work, and is one of the best men you got even for him to be new. What happens when he finally gets to have a full conversation with his captain?

NSFW. MINOR’S DNI.

I wanna bite him.

You’ve only known him for about a month and he’s already your favorite. Yes, you’re well aware you shouldn’t be picking favorites, but he stays late, gets papers done quick, and does things he doesn’t need to be doing until a whole month. Meanwhile all the other “older” cops think they get an extra week to do something just because they’ve been there longer. Which was not true whatsoever.

Back to Leon, you’ve spoken to him a bit. Probably not as much as you should, but the thought counts. As far as you know, he’s a hard worker and is dedicated to do his best. But you can also see that he try’s a bit too much. You’ll need to tell him he can take a step back every once in a while.

It was another night, Leon already knew he was gonna have to stay a few extra hours. Sighing he opened up a folder, taking out the notes and documents that were inside. He took a quick look at the papers, going over them yet again. Just as he was about to pull another thing out of the folder, he heard footsteps. Which immediately alerted him. Turns out the footsteps were yours, you were getting ready to leave the station and go home. With you standing there, looking at Leon without saying or doing anything, it was beginning to get awkward. Soooo, you spoke up. Clearing your throat first. “Well,” you begin, starting to walk up to him. “I think we haven’t fully gotten to know each other.” He stared up at you, blinking a few times before responding.

“Oh! Uh..” Leon started, but never seemed to finish. Not knowing what question to ask or how to start off. He stood up, though. Holding his hand out to shake yours, which you did as well. You then started a conversation, first asking a question then following up with a statement. Which this went on for at least fifteen minutes. The both of you going back and forth, asking questions about one another; finding out that you had some things in common and have similar interests. The conversation was sweet, interesting. Yet it took a turn when you got closer to him. It was friendly, not purposely meant to intimidate him or anything. He continued to look up at you, struggling to keep his composure. Why the hell was this so difficult? You kept up the conversation, tried to. You, yourself were starting to get a little amped up. You couldn’t stop stealing looks at his lips, which was a problem. You were his captain, not his fuck buddy.

The sexual tension between you guys was so obvious and strong, but neither of you made a move. That was until you couldn’t take it anymore. Your thoughts ran through your mind and eventually went down to your cock.

He was a stressed out, tired, hardworking man. If you two were to do something, this one night probably wouldn’t mean anything. He needed something—someone to help him. Being not necessarily pent up but in need of some sort of relief. And you were there with him, alone, in an empty police station possibly flirting with him. Yeah, this wouldn’t mean anything, right? Wrong. Things escalated, you moved things out of the way on his desk. Once in the clear, the two of you moved back. Lips connected while grabbing at each other. When he got close enough, he sat himself up on his desk. Hands then coming up to the sides of your face—holding while the two of you kissed. You angled yourself, pressing against him in a way that he could feel you’re hard-on. “Mm..” he groaned, muffled by your lips. Should he be doing this? Absolutely not. Is he going to do it anyway and savor this moment? Yes.

“Y’feel what you do to me? God—“ you huffed, against his mouth. “You work so hard—fuckin’ perfect.”

Leon whined, shifting his position so that he could wrap his legs around you and pull you impossibly close. His hands went down to your belt, starting to quickly undo it. After that was out of the way he started on your pants. Which in the process you bucked into his touch without even realizing. You captured his lips again, this time the kiss was nothing but tongue and teeth. The two of you needed each other so bad you kept messing things up. Fumbling with taking off clothes, knocking things over, accidentally forgetting to do something. But in the end, he still got your cock shoved into him as if he was gonna disappear within seconds.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

The sweet, sweet sounds that left Leon’s mouth were heavenly. Mouth open, eyes shut, and head back against the table. His legs were wrapped around your waist, purposely squeezing to pull you closer to him—get your cock deeper than it already was. “Such a hard worker, aren’t you? The moment you got here you worked, ‘n worked, ‘n worked.”

Leon whined, dick jumping and twitching at your words. He clenched around you—beginning to squirm. God, he was pretty. The way he reacted to your touch, praise, and whatever else you gave him. The sheen of sweat all over his body made him glisten in the dim light. Which just added onto the list of things that made him fucking beautiful. You dragged your hips back slowly, then pushed forward at the same pace. Your thrusts were slow, yes, but you made up for it by making sure you were deep inside him.

When you sped up your pace Leon cursed under his breath. The brutal pace catching him off guard.

“Shit!”

“Nothin’ you can’t take.” You cooed.

He breathed out a whimper—legs twitching. You leaned down over him, pressing your lips to his skin. His eyes were shut, it was all beginning to be too much. Your cock pushing into him at a relentless pace, your words, your touch. His dick leaked and throbbed—begging for some sort of attention. But it all felt good. It was something he deserved for working so much, so hard. “Oh- ohh..” Leon moaned. He clenched around you, gripping your cock. It caused a low groan to crawl from your throat. Your lips trailed up and up, pressing a kiss to his collarbone before sucking a hickey. Then moving on to his throat, forcing him to move his head up.

In a few minutes, Leon’s back was arching, his hands gripped the edge of the table he was on, and he was moving his hips up into the air as he came. Spurts of white shooting from his tip, and onto his chest; staining that area white. He huffed, chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath. It didn’t help when you kept thrusting into him, even when your hips started to stutter and fuck up the rhythm you’d set. He began to squirm. A whine slipping from his spit slicked lips.

You moaned, hips jerking as you finally came. You filled him up with your cum, and watched as it soon started to leak and drip from his hole. He felt so full. Stuffed with your cock and your cum. “Fuck..” he whispered. It was silent for a few seconds, well, aside from you two trying to control your breathing. But once you got ahold of it, you leaned back down and whispered straight into his ear.

“We ain’t done.”

[wcnderlnds]

right now ★ hwang jun-ho

・❥・ summary: junho had been your best friend for as long as you could remember so when a traumatic event happens and he's lost, you help him find his way. ・❥・word count: 2.7k ・❥・warnings: 18+. mdni. unprotected p in v, best friends to lovers. idk v soft smut. mentions of injury. ・❥・ authors note: so... i wanted to get this out of my head bc ive been rewatching squid game and i love my sweet little detective. i added my usual taglist but feel free to skip past it if you're not interested <3

It felt like your heart had plummeted into the pit of your stomach when you got word that Junho was in the hospital. For days he’d been missing. That wasn’t like him. No matter what he was doing, no matter where work took him, he always kept you updated on his whereabouts so you didn’t worry about him. The last thing you’d heard from him was that he was trying to find Inho – his brother. It was a lost cause, Inho had been missing for years by now but you knew that Junho had never given up hope. One thing you loved about him was that he was determined, whenever he set his mind to something he always tried his best to make it happen. If anyone could find Inho, it was him. But, the fact that he’d gone missing for days made you think something terrible had happened.

Junho had been your best friend since you were kids. Both of you had been the quiet kids, solely focused on your school work. It had been a study session where you’d initially met and bonded. Since that moment, you’d been joined at the hip. You’d gone through everything together. Health scares, job changes, break ups – none of that had ever tore you apart. If anything, it only brought you closer through the years. So close that somewhere along the way you’d started to develop feelings for him. He didn’t know, there was no way you could tell him. The bond you had was too important to you for you to ruin it. Those feelings would have to be kept under lock and key. He never seemed interested in relationships anyway, his sole focus had been his work as a detective. Yet another thing you admired about him. His dedication to his craft was so admirable.

Panic had immediately sent in, your feet carrying you to the hospital where he was. It took about five minutes to navigate through the bland halls after bothering a member of staff. Finally, you took a deep breath and pushed open the door to his room. There he was. Hooked up to machines, his eyes closed.

From what the nurse had told you, he’d been shot and found out in the waters. If it wasn’t for some fisherman saving him, he probably wouldn’t be alive right now. You had to stop yourself from crying as you saw him lying there helpless. Never had you seen him like this. Even after his kidney transplant, he was too stubborn to just lay there and do nothing. Now, he had no choice, stuck in a coma-like state.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

For days, you had stayed by his side until the moment he woke up. His mom had been there, too, alerting the doctors that he was finally awake. You had been holding his hand, his grip tightening on yours when he finally woke up. It felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders when you saw those gorgeous eyes of his finally looking back at you.

It was another day or so in the hospital before he was finally allowed home. You helped ease him into bed – doctor’s orders that he had to take it easy for a few days. Perching on the bed, you looked at him, eyes laced with concern.

“Do you want anything? Food? Water? I can run to the store if there’s somethin-” You were cut off.

“I saw him, Y/N. Inho, I saw him,” Junho mumbled, eyes almost pleading with you to listen to him. You were the only one he could trust enough to tell.

“What? Are you sure?” You asked, almost in disbelief.

“Yeah, I swear, I did.”

Junho proceeded to tell you everything he’d been through. It was almost crazy, something out of a nightmare but you could tell by the sincerity in his eyes, the panic shining there that this was all true. Junho had never given you a reason to doubt him before so you wouldn’t ignore him now. It took you a moment to form cohesive thoughts, wanting to make sure you took care with your words. This was such an insane situation.

“I believe you but… you’re going to have a hard time convincing anyone else.”

And, you were right. As the months passed and Junho told his story about the island and the murders – missing out on the details about his brother – he found it hard to find anyone that would really take him seriously. The police department had sent him to therapy, insitisng that it was just the trauma of his injuries making him tell these wild stories. It did seem to help. After a while, he stopped talking about it, even asking to be put into the traffic department at work. He wanted to be on the streets, not sitting in his office left to his thoughts.

Or that's what everyone thought but you knew him better.

Junho wanted to be out there where he could talk to people, maybe come across someone he recognised from the games. Well, there was really only one person he could recognise – everyone else had been masked and he hadn’t come across Seong Gihun ever since the games. For all he knew, he had died along with everyone else there. 

He was clinging on to the tiny shred of hope he had left. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Thought I might find you here,” you said softly. Junho hadn’t replied to your texts all day which was unusual for him. Usually, you’d be texting non-stop, all day long. So, you’d gone to the one place you knew he’d be – at the station. It was empty, the dim lights casting an orange glow across the bullpen. It was serene, his safe space.

“Hey,” he mumbled, focusing on some paperwork in front of him. He was sitting at his desk, filing all the parking tickets that he’d given out throughout the day.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.”

His reply was short, unlike him. You perched on his desk right next to where he was sitting, a heavy sigh passing your lips. “Don’t lie to me, Junho.”

“I said nothing. I’m fine,” he dared to look up at you, his face blank but you could see the frustration, the tension lingering there.

“You’re obviously not. Talk to me.” The way you were looking at him, it was almost enough to make him cave and tell you everything that was on his mind so he looked away. He had burdened you enough.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like… nevermind,” he shook his head. He couldn’t say what was on his mind because if he did then he’d have to confront something he’d been trying to fight for a long time. His feelings for you had grown to so much more than friendship and… he knew yours had, too. He was perceptive, he noticed the details. It was part of his job as a detective. Confronting them meant the possibility of ruining your friendship and he couldn’t lose you. You were the only person he had left, the one good thing in his life and he wasn’t going to risk that.

But, you were.

At this point, you’d had enough. You needed to do something bold that would get him talking or at least take his mind off things. So, after a mental pep talking with yourself, you moved to sit on his lap, straddling him. You lifted your fingers to tilt his chin to look at you. In his eyes you could see a swirl of emotions; confusion, frustration and a tiniest hint of lust. “Do you trust me?”

“Always,” he said, voice strained as he gazed into your eyes. His hands hovered slightly, not knowing exactly what to do with them.

“Good,” you whispered. Nervously, you cupped his cheek and leaned in. Your lips met hesitantly, moving slowly against his. He was taken aback but slowly leaned into it, kissing you back. His hands found their place on your hips like he was anchoring himself to you. His mind was screaming at him to stop, the friendship not worth ruining but it was the most at peace he’d felt in a very long time.

He pulled you harder against him, shifting his hips to settle in his chair more which in turn accidentally caused him to rut up into your. You softly moaned into the kiss, Junho taking the opportunity to deepen it, his tongue sliding past the seam of your lips to meet yours. The taste of you was intoxicating, like a forbidden fruit he shouldn’t be touching but now he’d had a taste of you, he couldn’t get enough. That sound, he needed to hear it again. He pushed his hips up into yours again and this time you ground against him, feeling his length hardening against the fabric of your shorts. His hands guided your movements, pulling you against him.

“Tell me to stop,” he said breathlessly. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

“No,” you said, pressing kisses down his jaw and to his neck. “I don’t want you to.”

His head tilted, allowing you more access to his neck. You trailed your lips along his skin, finding a spot that was particularly sensitive and biting down on it, sucking the skin there. Junho let out a quiet groan, thrusting up into your clothed core harder now. You ran your tongue along the reddening mark, hands sliding up under his shirt to feel his skin. Junho shivered at your touch, his own hands pulling off your shirt, tossing it onto his desk. His eyes zoned in on your breasts, leaning in to press kisses against the soft skin there. All the while his hands moved around to your back sliding up until he found the clasp of your bra. With expertise, he unclasped it, pulling back to toss it to the side along with your shirt.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, caressing your cheek before leaning back down. His tongue swirled around one of your nipples, lightly sucking on the hardening bud until it was a stiff peak then he switched his attention to the other one.

“Junho,” you gasped as your hand threaded into his hair urging him on. 

His head lifted up to capture your lips in another searing kiss. This one was more urgent, more desire coursing through his veins. His earlier worries were long gone, all that was on his mind was the urge to have you. His fingers danced along the edge of your sweatpants before dipping inside the fabric of your panties. One slender finger ran through your folds, a low groan passing his lips as he felt your arousal. “You’re already so wet for me.”

“I’ve been thinking about this for so long,” you admitted, gasping when his thumb found your clit, rubbing rapid, tight circles against it.

“Yeah?” He smirked against the skin of your collarbone. “For how long?”

“Too long.”

“Then I guess you don’t want to mess around then, huh?” His head lifted, that shit eating smirk on his face as he brushed some of your hair out of your face, his expression softening. “If you want to do this, really do this then undress for me but… if you don’t, it’s okay. We can just keep it at this.”

“Are you kidding me?” You laughed slightly, standing up to rid yourself of your shorts and panties, completely bare to him. “Like I said, I’ve thoughts about this for a long time. I’m too far gone to stop now.”

You dropped down to the floor on your knees, your hands sliding up his thighs to tug at his jeans. He lifted his hips up from where he sat, allowing you to pull them and his boxers down just enough to free him from the confines. His erection sprang up against his stomach, his chest heaving as he watched you lick your lips at the sight of him. Your hand wrapped around his length, pumping him a few times. Precum leaked from the tip and you fought the urge to lean forward to get a taste of him but that could wait for another time. All you wanted right now was to feel your best friend inside of you.

You rose back to your feet, pushing him back in the chair as you made a move to straddle him again. Your eyes softened as they met his, it was your turn now to ask him if he was sure. “Do you want this?”

“Yes,” he spoke softly. “I want you.”

That was all the confirmation you needed. You guided his cock to your entrance, one hand braced on his shoulder as you ever so slowly sank down onto him. You groaned as he breached your entrance, the feeling of him inside you better than you could’ve ever imagined. Junho’s hands gripped your hips as you took him to the hilt, his fingers digging into the skin. Not hard but not softly either. Just enough.

The moment lingered as you both got used to the feeling, the only sounds filling the room were your heavy breaths mixed with the occasional beeping of some of the machines in the background. Then, you lifted your hips and sank back down. The sound coming from Junho was heavenly. You set a slow, steady pace, wrapping your arms around his neck as you confidently rode him.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, his eyes darting down to look at where you were joined. “Better than anything I’ve ever felt.”

That tore a small breathless giggle from you causing Junho to smile up at you, capturing your lips. His hips moved up to meet yours, his hands helping you move against him. Soon enough, you picked up speed, the sound of your skin meeting echoing through the room. You rested your forehead against Junho’s, his hand now cupping your cheek as he gazed at you with nothing but adoration. He hadn’t felt this good in years. Not just physically but mentally. Being here, joined with you felt… right. Like, he was at home.

“Junho,” you whined, losing your rhythm as your release barrelled towards you. “I’m so close.”

He took this as his sign to take over, rutting his hips up into you at a wild pace, determined to bring you both to your peak. His hands found their place on your ass, grasping it and using it as leverage to thrust up into you. “Me too. Cum for me, pretty girl. I want to see you let go.”

It was one hard thrust that hit that deep spot inside you that had you spiralling. Your orgasm washed over you, your head falling to his shoulder as you moaned out his name, body tensing with the force of it. The feeling of your walls tightening against his length, pulling him in was his undoing. With a groan, he spilled inside you, holding you tight against him.

The gravity of the moment wasn’t lost on him as he came down but he wasn’t worried. He placed a few soft kisses on your shoulder before moving your head so he could look at you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you whispered softly. “I’m good. Are you?”

“Yeah…”

“Junho, I-”

But he cut you off before you could finish. “I know. You don’t have to say it.”

“Of course you know,” you rolled your eyes playfully. “But I want to say it. I… love you. More than a friend. I have for a long time and if you don’t, if this is what you want it to be then that’s okay and we can just go back to how we were but… I needed you to know anyway.”

“You’re crazy if you don’t think I feel the same. I’ve been in love with you for years, how could you not tell?”

“Sorry we can’t all be detectives with incredible perception.”

He laughed, giving your hips a squeeze. “Less of the sass or else.”

“Or else what?” You challenged.

Junho gave a teasing thrust up into you causing you to shutup immediately. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

He grinned, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss full of emotion. He knew that if he had you, that no matter what happened over the next few years, he’d be okay. You were his home.

taglist (ask to be added!): @ldydeath @infinetlyforgotten @berfgrimm @loveesiren @justsisse @sherrayyyyy @aizshallnotbefound @fleabagspurplewife @gemzyy @bettelaboure @gdinthehouseee @breakmeoff @babyrvis @flymetothexmoon @forevervibezzzz1 @ttturnitup @szonyix6277 @riddlerloveb0t @youlikeex @septywitch @melanatedhorrorqueen @l5byrinth @tabibabib

[pearlymel]

warnings: ANGST NO COMFORT, (fem) reader has terminal illness, it's cute in the beginning, < dont let that fool you, death (reader), 3.2k words.

notes: hey yall.. It's been a month.. And im back with angst if u even care.. lol and no i did not kiss the brick before throwing it </3

Ever since you've been diagnosed with a terminal illness, specifically a heart disease, you were worried on how you would break the news to Caleb.

Your best friend. The person that is the most important to you, the one you never want to disappoint or upset.

It didn't feel normal, you didn't feel alive. You couldn't hang out or play with him normally like you usually would, and it's unfair to him.

You cried the whole night in Caleb's arms that night, and he only held you silently, tightly. Trying to soothe you with soft strokes along your hair.

It's been months since that night.

"Hey," he says quietly, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of your face. "Don't give me that look.”

He can probably read you like a book by now. But rather than pity, there's only concern in his eyes.

He takes a seat on the grass next to your wheelchair while still holding your hand, his gaze still fixed on you. "Just tell me what's going on, pip-squeak. You know I can't read your mind, right?”

You squeeze his fingers as you look down at him, “could you…” you pause to clear your throat, “… Help me stand? I want to try and walk together.” you mumble.

And Caleb's eyes widen in excitement. He quickly stands up and moves around behind the wheelchair.

"Are you sure about this? I don't want you to push yourself, okay?" he says, gently taking hold of your wrists as he starts to help you out of the chair.

Your legs feel wobbly, but you manage with his help. You feel likd you can do anything at times when he's there.

"don't try anything crazy. I'm not above carrying you back kicking and screaming." He says it with a teasing smile, but his grip on your arms is firm, supporting you as you try to stand on your own.

“yeah, yeah.” you chuckle, your hands are firmly around his shoulders, and you lift your chin up.

“hi,”

Caleb grins at the unexpected 'hi', his cheeks warming a bit at your closeness.

"Well, hello there," he replies, his voice naturally playful. He keeps one arm wrapped around your waist, helping you stay steady on your feet.

His other hand finds its way gently through your hair, a comforting touch. "What's up, pipsqueak?”

“good.” you shrug. The breeze today feels unexpectedly nice, but the strands flying and sticking to the lip balm you applied this morning wasn't so fun..

Caleb’s grin widens at the sound of you attempting to shake your head amd blowing at the hair strands away, his arm still wrapped around you as he guides you towards the bench nearby.

"Alright, sit. Before you fall down and traumatize me," he teases, his tone light but his eyes serious. He gently helps you lower yourself next to him, making sure you're comfortable.

He then leans back, stretching his legs out and enjoying the sunlight, his gaze darting over to you every now and then.

"the weather is really nice." you hum, watching the people walk around, the elderly couple feeding the birds, and the children playing at the park.

It was at a distance, so you both were kind of alone in this corner.

Caleb nods, following your gaze at the people around them. "It is, isn't it?" he agrees, his arm still around your waist, holding you close. "It's been a while since we've been out like this, huh?"

He looks at the children tagging each other, and turns his gaze towards the couple feeding the birds. Something about this moment feels almost like the old days, before things got complicated.

His gaze turns back to you, "You really should get some fresh air more often. Being cooped up in that room all the time isn't good for you." He reaches over to tweak your nose, the way he used to when they were much younger, and you whine playfully at the gesture, "gotta keep the ol' pip-squeak lungs healthy, right?”

You huff, pushing his hand away, “i am healthy.” you reply defensively.

"Oh, really? And I suppose that weak little cough you've been trying to hide from me is just your way of practicing your opera skills, right?" he eyes you suspiciously, and you look away, pretending to whistle.

“I'll give you something to tease about.” you cross your arms, and he mimicks your moves.

“remember when we'd exchange secret kisses behind the tree?”

Caleb feels his brain go on short circuit.

"Wh-what—" he stutters, his cheeks warming at the memory. "That—that was back when we were kids. You can't bring that up, pipsqueak.”

You roll your eyes, “we were teens!”

His cheeks flush even more at your correction, and he rubs the back of his neck, "Yeah, yeah, we were. But still, it doesn't count. We were just kids messing around," he protests, his gaze darting away, unable to maintain eye contact.

He's clearly flustered, and it's hard to tell if he's more embarrassed that you brought it up, or remembering the feel of those secret kisses behind that old tree.

Teasing him back was just as fun, "We'd say it's just to practice for, oh, I don't know, future partners we'd be dating. How silly we were back then, huh?”

He remembers. Remembers the thrill of sneaking around, the rush of stolen kisses behind the tree, all under the guise of "practicing" for their future partners.

He lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head at their past naivety. "Yeah. We were pretty silly, weren't we?" he says, his voice soft. "Just a couple of dumb kids, playing at romance, pretending it didn't mean anything.”

He looks down, fiddling with the hem of his shirt, trying to collect his thoughts. He's not used to talking about his feelings like this.

"caleb, i.." you want to reach a hand out to his face, but it pauses mid air.

"nevermind." you whisper, retreating your hand away, "you deserve better."

Hearing your words, Caleb's expression shifts. Confusion turns to frustration, almost anger. He grabs your retreating hand to prevent you from removing it.

"What do you mean, 'deserve better'?" he asks, his grip on your hand tightening marginally, as if afraid to let you go. "Don't say that. Don't decide what I deserve,”

You see the desperation in his eyes, how he looks almost upset that you even said such thing.

“look at me—”

"I am looking at you," he cuts you off, "And I see you." He scowls, "Do you think I care if you can barely move? Do you think that's **what matters to me?”

You inhale sharply, biting on your lower lip as you look away, defeated.

“can i be selfish with you one last time?”

You're asking for something, and it's like he knows what kind of request it was, with the way you glance at his lips.

As your faces draw closer, he can feel your breath against his skin, sending shivers down his spine. Softly, ever so softly, he leans in, his lips gently touching yours.

a hesitant brush against yours. For a moment, it's just a soft, chaste touch, like he's testing the waters, making sure he's not about to lose control.

But it doesn't stay chaste for long.

The kiss deepens, as Caleb's hand cups your face, his thumb tracing light circles on your cheek. He leans in further, the intensity of the kiss building.

He could feel the tightness in your grip, the desperate way you're holding onto him, and for a moment, a thousand different emotions flick through his mind. The guilt, the helplessness, the fear of losing you...

But also the love.

The overwhelming, all-consuming love he's felt but never voiced. He kisses you harder, his hand moving from your jaw to your neck, fingers tangling in your hair, as if trying to pull you even closer.

He breaks the kiss to give you a break, only for a brief moment, his breath coming out in short breaths. He leans his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed, as he speaks in a low, hoarse voice.

"One more.”

—

You feel yourself being pushed on the wheelchair by Caleb through the hospital hallways, returning to your room, he glances over at you.

He can't help but notice the smile on your face, the way your eyes are still gleaming from your earlier encounter.

He feels his face warm a bit, but he covers it by clearing his throat. "You... seem happier than usual," he observes, trying to keep his voice casual.

You look up, “i am."

"Good," he murmurs, almost to himself. He pushes your wheelchair into the room, carefully setting it next to your bed.

You push yourself off and back onto the bed, “i had fun today.” you voice out your thoughts.

He pulls a chair to your bedside, sitting down, and runs a hand through his hair, still a bit flustered.

"Me too..." he admits, "It's been a while since we've spent time together like that." He smiles, but there's a hint of melancholy in his eyes.

“… thank you.”

"What are friends for, right?" he quips, shrugging his shoulders. Then, he adds, "Besides, I couldn't just let you sit around in this sterile, depressing hospital room all the time. You'd go crazy.”

Your eyes narrow as you turn your head slowly to his, “friends, even after our kisses.”

"Uh, well..." he stutters, again. trying to find the right words. "I mean... friends can kiss, right?" He's trying to sound cool, nonchalant.

You gasp, then your arms cross, “then i should just kiss all my male friends.”

"What—no!" he exclaims, evident panic in his voice. "That's not what I meant. I just—”

He stops himself, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He opens them again, his gaze locked onto yours, and his voice is quieter, more serious.

"That's not the same.”

You become silent, blinking twice at him, “fine, we're ‘friends’ i suppose.”

Caleb's face falls a bit at your words. "Friends..." he repeats, the word leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He wants to say more, to express all the things he's feeling, but he holds back.

Instead, he manages a weak smile, trying to keep the atmosphere light, "Right. Best friends.”

Caleb stands up from the chair, his expression conflicted. He wants to say more, to protest, to shout at you, to... say the truth.

“goodnight, caleb.” you wave your hand at him.

But he doesn't. He just nods, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer.

"Goodnight, pipsqueak," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

He turns and walks out, his hands clenched into tight fists.

“you can go back to sky haven.”

He stops in his tracks, your words hitting him like a cold wave. He turns back, his eyes locking onto yours, searching.

"You... you want me to go back to Sky Haven?" he asks, his voice a mix of confusion and hurt.

You avoid his eyes, “yeah, you've been here all week. Take a break.” you further reason out.

Caleb opens his mouth to protest, but shuts it again. He knows you're right—he's been spending all his time at the hospital, neglecting his duties at Sky Haven.

But the thought of leaving you here, alone... "You sure you'll be alright?" he asks, his voice low.

“… Of course.”

the way you're putting up a brave face. But he also knows you well enough to see through it. He clenches his jaw, fighting back the urge to argue, to stay.

"Alright," he says finally, his voice betraying a hint of reluctance. "I'll go back to Sky Haven. But... you better text me every morning, and night." He glances towards you again. "Got it, pipsqueak?”

You only smile back, “i love ya.”

Caleb freezes. He hears those three words, those three simple words that he's longed to hear from you for so long. But they feel like a bittersweet goodbye.

He looks at you, his heart constricting in his chest, and he wants to say so much, to tell you everything he's felt for so long. But he just nods, biting back the words that threaten to spill out.

"Yeah." He manages a weak smile. "love you, too.”

—

Days pass. Caleb is back in Sky Haven, working on his duties as a colonel in the Farspace Fleet. But every day, his thoughts keep drifting back to you. He finds himself distracted, his mind constantly wandering.

Sunday texts.

you: it's hot today.

caleb: make sure to tell the nurse to not set the air conditioning too cold

you: m’kay

Monday texts.

you: i miss your cooking

caleb: only that? You don't miss me? :(

you: i miss you, too >:)

caleb: :)

Tuesday texts.

caleb: knock knock, did you lose your way here?

you: was watching the birds

caleb: are they that interesting?

you: nope.

Wednesday texts.

caleb: hellooo pipsqueak

four hours later and three missed calls.

caleb: </3 ignoring my calls now?

you: i was asleep! :’)

caleb: morning, sleeping beauty ;)

Thursday texts.

None.

Caleb's eyebrows furrow as he stares at the empty screen, refreshing his messages over and over, and calling every hour.

You're just asleep, again.

He sighs at the thought, right—

His blood runs cold when his phone rings, seeing the caller ID from the hospital.

“hello?”

“Mr. Caleb, we regret to inform you that…”

Caleb's heart drops.

The next words doesn't even register in his head, he can't process it, can't wrap his mind around the news.

He takes a moment, trying to gather his thoughts, to understand what he just heard. But it doesn't make sense. It can't be...

He hangs up, and he runs. Without thinking, and feeling all numb, he needs to get to your hospital.

—

Caleb arrives at the hospital, his steps heavy as he walks through the familiar hallways. But everything seems different now. Darker, empty. The memories he once had are now tainted with grief.

He enters your room, his heart sinking more at the sight of the vacant bed, the machines turned off. He sees a bag on the table, your belongings. He moves forward, slowly, as if in a trance.

His gaze goes from the bag to the letter atop it. He stands there, torn between wanting to open it and wanting to pretend it doesn't exist.

After a moment's hesitation, he picks up the letter, his heart pounding in his chest. He carefully opens the envelope.

“dear, caleb.

I'm sorry you had to find out like this, i didn't want to worry you. My health was deteriorating these past few days, but i told them to not tell you, and im glad they respected my wishes.

I wanted to spend my last few days with you, and told you to go back on the last few days so you wouldn't witness the whole thing. Again, I'm sorry.

Please take care of yourself. I left a bunch of other letters in the bag for you.

Love, “

Caleb stares at the letter, reading and re-reading the words. His vision is blurry, his eyes filled with unshed tears. His heart feels heavy, as if someone had reached into his chest and snatched it away. He carefully folds the letter and puts it back in the envelope.

Caleb is going to read those letters you wrote for him, but he realizes you'll never get to read his own letters to you, it was too late.

—

The days following your passing are blurry in Caleb's memory. He moves through life like a shadow, going through the motions but not truly present. His work is done in autopilot, his interactions with others are forced.

But every night, when he returns to his empty apartment, he re-reads the letters. Like a cruel, comforting cycle, he reads them again and again.

The letters are all scattered on his bed. He would be curled on the bed, embracing each letter to try and make him sleep, but he can't. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees you. And it almost feels like a nightmare.

These letters were a window into your thoughts, your feelings. And even though you were gone, he felt like he had a piece of you with him.

He would read until the early hours of the morning, his eyes burning from lack of sleep. But the pain was preferable to the emptiness that threatened to consume him.

It's been a week since your passing. He has avoided visiting your grave, unable to bring himself to face the reality of your absence.

Caleb is afraid of coming home to see scattered letters on his bed and not remembering who they belong to.

But today, something stirs within him. It's a mix of guilt, sadness, and a sense of resolution.

He needs to pay his respects, to fsce reality.

He makes his way to the graveyard, where your grave sits solemnly. The sight makes his chest tighten. But he takes a deep breath, bracing himself for what he knows he has to do.

Caleb stands in front of your grave, his hands shoved in his pockets as he stares down at the name on the grave. "H-hey, pipsqueak," he whispers, his voice extremely shaky.

There's a pause, and he can almost hear your voice responding to him in his mind, calling him by his name.

"I... I have something to show you," he murmurs. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a worn leather notebook. It was his own journal, filled with thoughts, sketches, and snippets of memories from over the years.

He sits on the grass, trying to be as close as possible.

"I've been thinking about you a lot," he continues, his eyes still fixed on the grave. "I remember all the times we were kids. Those moments... they were the best."

He opens the journal, flipping through the pages, each one a small snapshot of their shared past.

"And those letters you left..." he continues, his voice growing quieter. "I've read them again and again. It feels like you're right here, whispering in my ear.”

If you were there, he knows you'd say all the right things to ease his pain, to tell him that everything would be okay. But you're not, and the silence hangs heavy in the air.

Caleb's grip on the notebook tightens, his knuckles white with the effort. He takes a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to fall.

"God, I... wish you were here." his voice chokes up, and he swallows hard, trying to keep his emotions in check.

"I...I have so many things I want to tell you, so many things I never said...”

You closes his eyes, covering his face while he slumps against the stone, that one wish you wrote in your letters replays over and over in his head.

to move on.

[slowdrawl]

|dbf!Joel x f!reader| Whiskey and Want

| 18+ MINORS DNI | {series masterlist} | wordcount |4.2k| {TLOU AU, no outbreak} |13/??| Show me. | Joel is hot...and your dad's best friend. You're brattier than usual when you're setting up for Sarah's welcome home party and he SNAPS, talking you through it as he does. (the smut goes crazy.)

“Bend over the fuckin’ table.”

| a/n | This was supposed to be a normal chapter. with plot, and pacing, and decorations. But I blacked out and wrote 4k words of utter filth. This could be read as a stand alone tbh. Just a real spicy interlude.

Warnings/tags: 18+ only, minors DNI, SMUT, explicit content, restraints (wrists bound), oral sex (f. receiving), spanking, fingering, (p in v), orgasm denial, mild dom/sub dynamics, dirty talk, praise, light degradation, power imbalance (consensual), established tension, series warnings after the fic.

reader uses she/her pronouns and has hair. no major physical descriptions of the reader. no use of y/n but has the nickname Bird, Birdie, etc. reader has a backstory

“Are you tryin’ to hang the fuckin’ lights or yourself?”

Joel’s at the base of the ladder, one hand braced against the frame like he thinks it’s about to collapse.

You glance down at him, brow scrunched. “What are you on about?”

“You keep tiptoein’ like you’ve got a damn death wish.”

“Joel, it’s a step ladder. I appreciate the concern, but if I fall and break more than an ankle, it was in God’s plan.”

He shakes his head, already turning toward the patio. “Just…be mindful.”

You’ve spent the last hour and a half sprinting from one end of the yard to the other, draping fairy lights over the pergola, trying your best to give the place some kind of whimsy.

Sarah is lucky you love her. And that you’re terrified of how she’ll react when she inevitably figures out you’ve been boning her dad. Because right now, you’re sweating in places you didn’t even know could sweat.

Thankfully, the sun’s finally starting to dip, and for once, there are a few clouds offering some mercy from the Texas heat. Joel’s taping a ‘WELCOME HOME’ banner to the siding above the back door, you can’t help but stare at the way his t-shirt hikes up just enough to show the dimples at the base of his spine off. You can see faint drops of sweat speckling the skin there, shining like glitter. “That’s crooked,” you holler over to him from across the yard. “So be it,” he replies. At this point, the heat is really getting to you, you have no more patience. It’s been a long day, and you just want the whole thing to be over. You’ve been at it since 11, when you went to the party store, now it’s probably around 6. You don’t know, your phone has been dead since you left the diner. You snap, “No. We’re not half-assing this. Straighten the damn sign.” You don’t even look at him, just go back to what you were doing. Don’t have to look anyway, because you can see it already. Jaw tight, eye twitching, nostrils flared. He probably has his hand on his hip and everything. You keep on wrapping a streamer around one of his sad little trees. Thinking, maybe he’s dropped it. Moved on. That you’ve earned a moment of peace and relative shade. Until his voice cuts in again, closer now, but not by much. He’s made his way halfway through the yard.

“You know,” he drawls, slow like molasses but twice as smug, “I liked you better when you were scared’a me.”

You snort, tugging the streamer taut just to give your hands something to do. “That why you keep tryin’ to intimidate me with your superior zip-tie skills and emotional constipation?”

Joel steps into your peripheral, close enough that you feel the heat off his body, radiating, heavy, clinging to you like static air before a storm. You glance at him and instantly regret it.

Fuck

He looks disheveled. In the best way. T-shirt stuck to his chest, curls damp at the nape, cheeks a little sunburnt maybe, eyes darker than they should be in daylight. You could hang lights off the tension alone. “You’ve been extra mouthy today.” You shrug your shoulders, eyes wide and innocent. “So what. You don’t think you deserve it? After the emotional rollercoaster you’ve had me on all week, you’re lucky I'm here at all.” Joel doesn’t say a word. Just stares at you. You can feel the weight of it. Heavy, measured. He's trying to calculate exactly how far he's willing to let you take this. “I think you like it when I talk back, Mr. Miller.” He cocks his head. “Oh? You think so?” “Yeah, I do,” you say, stepping toward him. “I think it gets you off.” You smile smugly. “Actually…I know it does.” He starts walking. Not fast, just with purpose. Every step makes your heart pound harder. He’s silent, closing the space between you while you instinctively start to retreat. You’re walking backward toward the house now, tripping over your own feet the whole way. He’s just on your toes, stalking you like a predatory animal. Your back bumps against the edge of the folding table you’d set up earlier, you have nowhere else to go. Trapped. Joel plants one hand beside your hip. Then the other. Caging you in. He’s not touching you. Not yet. The legs of the table scrape across the patio as he pushes it back so it's now flush against the siding of the house. His arms are stretched out, taut, triceps flexing. 

“That what this is?” he says quietly. “You tryin’ to make me lose it?”

You swallow. He doesn’t sound angry…It’s worse, dangerous, too calm. Like he’s holding something barely tethered under his tongue.

“Tryin’ to get me to fuck you right here against this table?” He looks around the yard, nodding in the direction of your house. “You want everyone hearin’ the sweet little sounds you make for me”

He leans in, breath warm against your cheek.

“That what you want?”

You’re still smiling, but it’s starting to falter. Just a little. Just enough.

“Maybe.”

His eyes drag over your face, slow and heavy. There’s heat there, but more than that. There’s awareness. Like he sees exactly what you’re doing. And he’s calling your bluff.

“You wanna be a brat? Fine.”

His hand comes up, he wraps it around your throat. Squeezing, just a little, claiming. His voice drops, sharp, certain. “Then beg.”

Your lips part. You don't back down. You never back down.

So he leans in again, and he moves his hand from your throat around to the back of your neck. Grabbing your nape like it's the scuff of a kitten, spinning you.

“Bend over the fuckin’ table.” You blink. Brain not catching up quick enough. It feels like you have a fever. Your heart is pounding in your ears, your extremities feel half numb from the adrenaline. “Now.” The noise that comes from the back of your throat is embarrassing. It already feels like your knees are about to give out. But still, you obey, letting him turn you around completely. You hinge at your hips, pressing your elbows flush to the table as he guides you down with his hand on the small of your back. “Shorts down,” he says. “Or do I have to do everything for you?”

You fumble with the waistband, fingers shaking as you shove them down around your thighs. It’s clumsy, desperate. You’re already panting.

He groans behind you, you can feel it rumble through him.

“You talk too much,” he mutters. “Always runnin’ that smart little mouth.”

You smirk, twisted around just enough to look at him over your shoulder.

“Still think you like it.”

His hand cracks across your ass. You gasp.

“What was that?” he growls.

You bite your lip. Trying to keep the edge. Trying to keep from screaming.

“I said—”

Another slap. Harder. He doesn’t even let you finish this time.

Your breath hitches. Your thighs clench.

“Keep goin’,” he says. “We’ll be here all fuckin’ night.”

He runs a hand between your legs, he groans when he finds you practically dripping.

“Goddamn. She’s soaked and still talkin’ back.”

You’re trembling now, knuckles white on the edge of the table.

“Say you’re sorry.”

You hesitate. Just long enough to make him snap.

Joel drags you back by the hips, so your ass is flush against him, cock straining through his jeans. You can feel how hard he is—how close he is to ruining you.

“Say. It.”

“…Make me.”

That’s it.

He shoves your panties down and sinks two fingers into you without warning. Deep, rough, perfect. You cry out, head dropping to the plastic, and he leans over you, mouth to your ear.

“You don’t get to come until you do,” he growls. “Not until I hear it.”

You whimper. Rocking your hips back on his hand.

“Joel—”

“Nope. You wanted this. You can take the consequences.”

He curls his fingers just right, and your knees nearly give out for real.

“Say you’re sorry.”

“I—I’m sorry,” you gasp.

“What for?”

“For… for mouthing off.”

He pulls his hand away. You whine at the loss.

“Louder.”

You lift your head.

“I’m sorry for mouthing off!”

Joel makes low and smug sound, like he’s pleased with himself. You feel it in your core.

“Good girl,” he says, unbuckling his belt with slow, deliberate clicks. “Now stay still, just like that.”

“Why?”

“Because I ain’t done teachin’ you yet.”

The belt hits the table with a heavy slap, and your whole body jolts. You expect the sting next, the sharp bite across your skin—but it doesn’t come.

Instead, Joel reaches down, grabs both of your wrists.

Pulls them behind your back.

“Are you fuckin’ serious right now?”

He doesn’t answer. Just threads the leather through your wrists, tight and smooth. Cinching it slow. He moves like he’s done this before, no big deal, like he knows the way you’ll respond.

You try to twist. Just to see. Just to feel it.

You can’t move.

“Still feelin’ mouthy?” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble against your ear. “Or is it finally sinkin’ in now?”

You swallow, pulse pounding between your legs.

“Yeah, didn’t think so”

And then he’s guiding you. No. He’s marching you into the house. Your wrists are bound behind your back, and your shorts are still half tugged down like a badge of shame. The cool inside air hits your skin, but it doesn’t soothe the fire in your chest, the heat that's crawling up your throat.

Joel stays behind you. One hand on your waist. Firm. Controlling. His thumb strokes absent-minded circles against your side like he’s calming a spooked horse. As you reach the kitchen, he pauses for a second, loosening his grip on your wrists. He turns you around and looks, serious, but…gentler at you. You can tell that he’s searching your face for hesitancy, real fear. He’s searching your face for your consent and you have never been so turned on in your entire fucking life. “Good?” He asks, eyes locked on yours. “Yes.” you say. It comes out breathy, but sure. He nods his head in understanding and exhales what sounds like anticipation mixed with relief.

“Upstairs,” he says, motioning toward the hall.

“Joel—”

“You got one job now, darlin’. Walk.”

You don’t argue.

The sound of your steps on the stairs feels deafening. He follows behind you, you can feel his eyes burning into the backs of your legs, your ass, the base of your spine.

When you reach the landing, he nudges you down the hall.

“Bedroom,” he says. “Go.”

You cross the threshold and stop, unsure, buzzing. So many emotions are going through you, your brain can’t keep up. You’ve never been in his bedroom before, and if you weren't tied up in leather, this would feel…intimate. You don’t have time to take it in, but you do take a second to look toward the window and stare out of it up toward your bedroom across the street. You turn to face him—

“Uh uh,” Joel says, voice rough. “Get on your knees.”

You sink down to the ground.

The carpet scratches the skin beneath your knees. You’re feeling vulnerable. Exposed. But still…safe.

Joel stands in the doorway, arms crossed. Watching you. Like you’re prey and he’s deciding what kind of punishment fits best.

“Not so funny now, is it?” he asks softly.

You’re scared to answer, you shake your head barely.

“S’what I thought.”

He steps into the room. Circling behind you. One finger trails from your jaw down your throat, to your chest, your ribs.

“Now,” he says, stopping in front of you. “You’re gonna sit there and wait.” “For what?” you whisper.

He smiles, cruel and patient.

“For me to feel generous.” Your wrists are still bound behind your back, fingers twitching with every exhale of your breath. You shift, trying to get more comfortable, trying to rub your thighs together for some sort of relief without being too obvious. Joel notices, because of course he notices. He drops onto the edge of the bed in front of you with a deep groan, spreading his legs wide. The button is already undone on his jeans. He’s palming himself over his boxers. You look up at him through hooded eyes, biting down on your lower lip. He reaches his hand under the waistband and pulls out his cock. It’s thick, flushed, wet at the tip—and he strokes it slowly, practiced, shameless. Just watching you. “Look at you now,” he murmurs. “All tied up and nothin’ to say to me for once.” Your throat burns. You want to speak. You want to beg. But he’s just too pretty like this. Sweaty and wrecked, one hand fisting his cock, the other behind him, holding him up as he leans into the bed. “Bet you’re dripping,” he drawls. “I bet you’re fuckin’ throbbin’, sittin’ there watchin’ me.” The smallest wine escapes from his throat with the last word. You squirm against your calves, can’t help it. He chuckles. “Uh uh,” he hums. “No movin', not unless I tell you to.” You hang your head down for a second in protest, then smirk back up at him. “You gonna come like that? All by yourself? Puttin’ on a show just for me, Mr. Miller?” He inhales sharply and then stills. His thumb drags a lazy circle over the head of his cock, he doesn’t break eye contact with you. “Think you’ve earned it?” he asks, “Seein’ me come for you?” “Tryin’ my best.” “Try harder,” he mutters, “ You wanna be good? Be quiet for me. Watch.” You clench around nothing. He’s smirking now, watching the way your body reacts to his words. “That hard for you?” he hums, “Just sittin’ there like a good girl?” You nod, lips parted, eyes wide. He groans and tilts his head back slightly, stroking himself faster now. His chest is falling and rising erratically, every breath is ragged, every exhale punched out between clenched teeth. You can tell that he’s close, you can see it, and you ache for him. Then he stops. Hand stilling on himself, eyes flicking down to you sitting there, small and panting, bound at his feet. Suddenly, something shifts. The tension doesn’t break exactly, but it pauses. Tightens in a different way. Joel’s face changes, barely, but enough. He leans forward. “Hey,” he says, soft. His voice is rough and velvet at the same time. “You doin’ okay—is this okay?” You blink, swallowing, nodding. “I need you to use your words, baby.” Your heart squeezes in your chest. “Yeah,” you whisper. “I’m good, Joel. I’m…I’m having fun.” He reaches for you and brushes your cheek with his knuckles, he’s so achingly tender that it nearly undoes you. “Okay,” He says. “Okay good.” he exhales, giving you one more long look, “You want to stop, you just say so alright?” You hum in response. And then he grabs your jaw. Firmly, but careful still. He tilts your face up, squishing your cheeks. “You keep your eyes on me, then,” he murmurs. “I’m not done watchin’ you beg.” You hold his gaze like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. Your knees are burning, wrists aching, jaw trembling under his hand. He strokes himself lazily in front of you, like he has all damn night. Like he could do this forever. And you? You’re starving. “Joel,” You say, meek. He raises a brow, “Somethin’ you wanna say?” “Please.” He hums. “Please, what?”

Your voice cracks when you answer. “I need you.”

He leans forward slightly, almost close enough for you to get your mouth on his. “Need me to what, baby?”

You try to move. Try to lean into him, into anything, but his grip tightens at your jaw. He holds you steady. “Say it.”

You shut your eyes. Exhale. Shame burning down your spine as you whisper.

Your voice cracks. “Touch me. Fuck me. Anything. Please, I’m sorry, I—I-please, Joel.”

He exhales hard, like he feels it. Like your begging undoes something. “Goddamn,” he mutters. “There she is.”

He goes still for a moment, like the sound of your voice hit somewhere he wasn’t ready for it to. Then he lets go of your jaw. And slaps your cheek. Not hard, just enough to sting. To snap your last thread of control.

You jolt slightly, whimpering. A shudder rolls through you. You’re shaking, overwhelmed, soaked, feral.

He watches you like he’s still hungry. Like this is just the beginning.

Then he kneels.

You feel the shift in the air before you feel his hands.

He reaches for the buckle. Pulls the belt free from your wrists with deft, controlled fingers. Your arms fall forward, limp and useless. You don’t even try to move them.

Joel takes your hands in his. Bringing your palms to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to each one. Then he rubs small circles into the reddened skin, helping you through the electric static still zipping down your spine.

You nod, choked up.

He kisses your temple. “Get on the bed.”

You scramble up, with trembling hands. Your entire body buzzes as you climb into the sheets. Joel follows calmly. All control. No urgency, like he’s not already hard. Like, he isn’t seconds away from giving in like you are. He settles on his knees at the foot of the bed where you just were, eyes trailing up your body like smoke. He spreads your legs with both hands, wide. Possessive, like he owns the sight of you. One palm comes down over your stomach, pressing flat to hold you down. “You’re gonna stay real still for me,” he says, quiet but firm. “Or we’re gonna stop.” Then he licks you. One long, languid drag of his tongue that leaves you feeling like you’re about to combust. You yelp, slapping a hand to your face to stifle your moans. He groans against you like the taste hurts him. “Fuck—look at you,” he mutters, hot against your thigh. “So pretty. You love this, don’t you?” You grasp at anything you can, fingers tangled in sheets, in his hair, anything to ground yourself. You arch into him, nodding, whining. Joel chuckles, dark and a little mean. “Didn’t say move.” Then he’s back on you, messier, dragging his tongue through you again. He makes you grind, makes you keep begging. You cry out, writhing beneath him. His mouth still on you, “No, baby, not yet” He works you right to the edge and then pulls back. Over. And Over. Three times. You’re crying by the fourth. Quiet little sobs against your knuckles. “Shh, I got you, angel. You’re bein’ so, so good for me now.” he coos, kissing the inside of your thigh. “Joel, please,” you hiccup. “I’ll be so good—please just don’t stop.” He kisses his way up your body, your hip, your ribs, the swell of your breast. Then he gets up from the floor, walks to the side of the bed and settles himself behind you. He reaches forward and lifts you, literally pulls you into his lap, your whole body light in his arms. Your legs feel like jello, you’re so exhausted. Fucked out and you haven’t even come yet. He shifts you forward, settling you over his thighs, guiding your body like he’s done it a hundred times in his head.

His cock is thick and heavy between your legs, already nudging at your entrance, and you freeze, just for a second as the reality of it hits you.

You’re soaked. Raw. Desperate.

But this still feels like a threshold.

Joel sees it.

“Breathe,” he whispers. His voice is so quiet now, so gentle. Steady. “I’ve got you.” One hand grabs onto your hip, the other slides down and wraps around the base of his cock. He lines himself up, the head just barely parting your folds, and he waits. Just waits until your eyes meet his again. Then he pulls you down, slowly. The stretch is immediate, deep and relentless. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan. “I know,” he grits. “Just take it. That’s it, good fuckin’ girl.” He doesn’t rush you, just holds you there, easing you down. Letting you feel every ridge, every vein, every beat of his pulse as he twitches, fighting to stay still. Your thighs are trembling, your breath is shuddering out of your heaving chest. Every inch drags against your walls, every second of stretch sending fire across your nerves. “You feel that?” he asks, low and rough. “How tight you are around me?” You nod, barely. Whimpering now. “Every fuckin’ time. Like it’s the first.” You bottom out with a cry. His cock seated deep, brushing against your cervix. And he just stays there, lets you sit in it, walls fluttering. Your whole body tightens around him involuntarily. It’s too much and not enough at the same time. “Look at me,” he says. You listen. He leans in close, forehead to forehead. “Ain’t nobody ever gonna fuck you like I do.” A sharp and needy gasp rips through you as he starts thrusting up into you. You can feel the pressure building low in your belly. “No one’s ever gonna fill you like this. Hear me?” You’re nodding back at him again, its all you can do. You’re blinking hard, ruined. “Say it.” Your voice trembles. “Nobody’s gonna—fuck, nobody’s gonna fuck me better.” Joel growls low in his throat. His arms wrap around you tight. He starts to move faster, punishing thrusts that feel like they’ll unravel you from the inside out. You’re barely breathing as he fucks you harder. One of his hands grips your ass, guiding your rythm. The other is tangled in your hair, pulling your mouth to his. He kisses you like he’s trying to break you. Tongue deep, lips rough, teeth catching. You’re right on the edge, you can feel yourself pulsing around him. You wrap your arms around his shoulders like it’ll keep you from falling apart. “Yeah,” he groans. “There it is. That what you needed, huh? Right there?” “Yes. Fuck—right there.” you sob into him. He thrusts up harder, faster. Your thighs are on fire from the effort of keeping up with him, your muscles are shaky. You’re soaked, his cock gliding in and out of you with a filthy slap every time your hips meet. “You gonna come? I can feel you fuckin’ chokin’ me, baby.” he growls. “Y-yeah—shit, oh my god—Joel” His thumb drops down to your clit, he starts rubbing circles exactly how you like it, and your head snaps back. “That’s it. Come on,” he grits. “Show me. Show me what this fuckin’ cock does to you.” You fall apart. Hard.

Your entire body locks, and the orgasm rips through you. It’s burning, endless, and blinding. You scream his name. Legs shaking. Nails digging so hard into his back you know you’re leaving marks. “Fuck—fuck—” you cry. “Don’t stop, please, don’t,” And he doesn’t. He holds your hips and drives up into you, riding your orgasm, dragging more and more out of you until you’re twitching, boneless, mouth open and gasping. And then he finally breaks, slamming into you once. Twice. Groaning so deep it sounds fucking painful. He comes. Hot. Thick. Deep inside you. He holds you close, murmuring praise into your skin, lips pressed to your temple as you ride it out. His head drops to the bed, and he pulls you down, curling his body around yours. He doesn’t pull out. Doesn’t move. You both just lay there and collect your breath for a long while. Your body is loose, heavy and spent. Every breath you take smells like him. His forehead is resting against your shoulder, brushing his lips against your collarbone. Neither of you speak. It’s just the ever-present hum of the ceiling fan. The tick of the clock, your heartbeats pressed together. “You okay?” he eventually asks. His voice is rough, low and broken still. You hum into his chest, “Perfect.” Joel rubs your back, lazy, sloppy circles that make your eyes sting. “Did I go too fa—” He doesn't finish the sentence, you don’t let him. “No,” you say quick. “No. You didn’t.” You pull yourself back just enough to see him. He’s flush, eyes soft now. Bare. It’s like the edge of him has finally, finally worn down. You weave your fingers through the damp curls at the nape of his neck. “I’ve never felt like that before,” you whisper. Joel huffs a tired laugh. “Me neither.” Then he kisses your shoulder, then your jaw. Then your cheek. When his mouth finds yours again, it's not about hunger anymore. It’s just quiet, stead,y and certain. He threads your fingers together. Connected, quiet. Safe. “Hey, Joel?”

His thumb strokes slow over the back of your hand. “Yeah, Bird?”

You smile, lips still swollen, brain still syrupy.

“We, uh…” you glance at the ceiling fan. “We still have to finish setting the yard up.”

You stop.

“Before my dad gets here with the booze.”

Joel groans, dragging an arm over his face. You kiss his shoulder, giggling. “You still need to straighten the damn sign, too.”

“Fuck’s sake”

series warnings!!! fluff, smut, angst,unprotected p-in-v (please wrap it up), f/m masturbation, fingering, large but legal age-gap (joel is in 40's reader is in mid 20's), size kink?, choking, pervy!obsessive!joel, pervy!mean!Tommy, grinding, spit, cumplay, possessive/rough sex, praise, dom/sub dynamics, orgasm denial, sex on the phone, drinking/smoking, strong language, sneakin around, lowkey obsessive and reckless Joel, blackmail, competency kink, risky sex, infidelity/implied, semi-public sex, breeding kink lowkey, overstimulation, a tiny bit of coercion, dirty talk, oops its a creampie, brief mentions of grief and implied suicide, Tommy is a jerk in this one, guilt and betrayal, bar-fights @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @brittmb115 @mystickittytaco @your-nightmaredoll @leenieweenie12 @orodaeh

[apomaro-mellow]

CC Ransoms Steve 9

Part 8

Eddie was pent up as hell and his brain very helpfully recalled a memory for just a day ago.

“Get to sleep, Harrington. You can go one day without abusing yourself.”

Turns out a day felt like an eternity when presented with a dish like Steve Harrington. It probably didn't help things that it had been months since Eddie made out with anyone. And well, the rumors about Steve were not exaggerated. Steve had him against a wall and was kissing the air from his lungs, it was glorious. But Eddie liked to take charge.

Eddie grabbed the back of Steve's head, savoring the luxurious feel of his hair before gripping it and pulling him back. Steve looked how he felt right now, just drunk with it.

"Let's show that bed of yours some real action." Eddie switched to hold Steve's hand instead and led him to his own bedroom.

Steve wasn't a virgin, but he was technically new to this. The most he'd ever done with a guy was jacking it off to magazines that would STAY HIDDEN under his bed. So he was content to led Eddie take the lead here now that he was actually moving.

"Betcha never had a man in here", Eddie grinned, pushing Steve onto the bed.

"Never had anyone pretty enough", Steve grabbed the lapel of Eddie's jacket and pulled him on top.

Eddie groaned. He felt hard as a rock and he got lightheaded as he realized he was feeling Steve's own hard on against his. He was actually do this. He was making out with Steve Harrington in his bed and Steve Harrington was kissing him back and Eddie couldn't help but grind on him and Steve was grinding back, his legs opening up for Eddie and sighing against his lips and shit-

"Shit, Steve..." He tried to talk but Steve just kissed him more, his hands sneaking up Eddie's shirt. He was a fucking natural.

Steve couldn't get enough. He couldn't tell what Eddie tasted like, but he needed more. He sucked on his tongue, nibbled on his lips, he was so glad he'd slipped the others sleeping pills.

Eddie felt a familiar tightness and knew he was about to cum in his pants. He tried lifting his hips but Steve-fucking Steve-wrapped his legs around Eddie and each time they move together he felt him and it felt so good and he was gonna-

"Haaaah~", Steve moaned and shook and his hands clawed down Eddie's back and holy shit his cheeks were flushed and his lips were wet and he had just came, rubbing himself against Eddie and-

"Fuck." Eddie started kissing Steve's neck, knowing he was hitting a good spot when Steve gasped into his ear. If there weren't four layers between them, they could be mistaken for fucking the way Eddie was pressing him into the bed. And then Steve put the nail in his coffin.

"Hah, hah, Eddieeee~"

"Mmmmmmh", Eddie bit down onto his neck as he spilled into his pants. Hearing Steve moan his name did him in.

The room was filled with their combined panting for some minutes. Steve's hands smoothed up and down his back, soothing the light scratches he had made.

"God...", Steve pushed his sweaty bangs off his forehead. "Can you imagine what it's gonna be like when we go all the way?"

If Eddie imagined it, his dick would fly to heaven. He wasn't about to say that out loud though. Instead, he lifted himself slightly to look Steve in the eye.

"I think if you want me to put out, you'll have to take me on a better date than ice skating."

Steve grinned. "Done."

There was a loud thump downstairs.

"Guess the boys are awake", Eddie said. "Got a change of pants for me?"

-------------------

A quick half outfit change later and Steve and Eddie came down to see the other three waking up in earnest.

"What time is it?", Gareth asked, holding his cheek where he probably fell to the floor.

"Time to load up and ride out boys", Eddie said before clapping his hands together.

Steve didn’t feel anything at all as he watched them decide on which random expensive junk to bring along. And he still felt nothing as it filled the van. He wondered how long it would even take his parents to notice anything was missing.

Eddie noticed Steve staring. "Having second thoughts?"

"Hardly."

Steve's curt answer felt off to Eddie, but then Jeff closed the van's back doors and they were ready to set off.

"Guess this is where we say thanks and goodbye", Gareth said.

Oh Eddie absolutely did not want that. "Nope, he's coming along."

"What?", four voices rang out.

"Don't act so surprised, Harrington, you're still a hostage", Eddie grinned, the snow crunching under his steps as he got in Steve's space. "We're keeping you under lock and key until the cash is in our hands."

Steve got even closer. "You were just humping me in my room, I think we're on a first name basis now."

"Yeah? You think?"

"Do you guys need a room?", Doug asked. They couldn't hear what neither Steve nor Eddie said, but they were way too close for comfort.

"Let us away!", Eddie shouted, going to the driver's seat.

-------------------

Jeff didn’t know what had happened while he and the others had been out cold. But judging from how Steve and Eddie were talking in the front of the van, so freely, it couldn’t be good. It was probably exactly what Jeff had feared. Steve had his claws in him. Eddie said something and Steve laughed so hard he actually snorted and Eddie was looking at him all gooey like.

Something had to be done. They got to the pawn shop and Eddie and the others went inside to do their business. Eddie led the way, walking right up to the register.

"Greetings, we've come with some wares."

"Whatcha got?", the man asked.

Doug, Jeff, and Gareth laid some of it out right onto the counter. Eddie grinned, feeling like everything was just within reach.

"There's more in the van. I'm hoping you can give us a good estimate before we break our backs moving it."

The man looked at it suspiciously. Meanwhile, Steve was waiting for them to be done. He figured he should stay in the van. Less of a chance of anyone connecting the stolen goods to him.

“Harrington? Is that you?”

Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck. And there wasn’t even a stupid magazine or newspaper to cover his face with. Jason tapped on the window and Steve bit back the expression he wanted to make and put a smile on instead as he rolled the window down.

“What’re you doing in Eddie Munson’s van?”, Jason spat out Eddie’s name before Steve could even say ‘hi’.

"There's uhhh a reeeeeally good explanation for this."

"Well let's hear it."

Part 10

Taglist

@tinyplanet95 @dammitjim02 @chaotic-waffle @missarte-beltane @im-sam-fucking-winchester

@persnicketysquares @estrellami-1 @spookycollectorcandies @chocolateraccoonlights @exasperatedsighohmy

@disrespectedgoatman @yesdangerpls @me-ig7 @imaginary-maggie-waggie @live-laugh-love-dietrich

@wheneverfeasible @ttyrussss

[nightcourtnovels]

Little Matchmaker

Azriel x reader (part 4.5)

Summary: reader gets a birthday gift and her friend can’t help but push her to go big or go home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

She was dreaming.

She knew it even as she felt the soft weight of a blanket draped over her bare shoulders, Azriel’s callused fingers brushed her cheek, just as his arm curled tighter around her waist. They were still wet from the pool, skin warm and tangled beneath one of her spare blankets. The sun was rising above her balcony doors, the city waking while they started to rest. His voice, low and scratchy, murmured something against her hair.

“Stay,” she whispered.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised.

But he always did…

~

Y/N blinked awake as the sun crept through her curtains due to the blowing wind. Her bed was cold, and empty, and her heart gave a small, traitorous ache.

She groaned, covering her face with a pillow.

“Snap out of it,” she muttered to herself.

Today was her birthday. But, she had scrolls to read, enchantments to translate, and the library wouldn’t run itself. Just because she’d spent the last few nights dreaming of Azriel’s smile or the way his fingers lingered a little too long on her back, or the kiss he left her with that still made her stomach flip, didn’t mean she had time to daydream today.

The date was two weeks ago, but it still felt like yesterday. She really needed to stop thinking about it; they lived completely different lives and it was only a one time thing.

Yet, she couldn’t help but remember how beautiful the night was, no male had ever treated her like he did.

With a sigh, Y/N got ready for work.

~

The library was quiet as always, the scent of old paper and ink calming her nerves. She’d settled into a rhythm, nose deep in a scroll on ancient Day Court magic, when someone cleared their throat beside her desk.

She looked up to see a young messenger, wide-eyed and clearly in awe of the massive collection around him.

“Delivery,” he said, holding out a wrapped box and a bouquet of various white flowers speckled with silver.

Y/N blinked, stunned. “Uh… for me?”

He nodded, handed them over, and quickly scurried away.

She stared at the package and bouquet wondering if the messenger perhaps got the wrong female.

No one sent her gifts. Especially not ones wrapped in delicate paper and tied with navy ribbon. Her fingers trembled slightly as she pulled the small envelope off the flowers.

In neat, precise handwriting, she read:

Happy 250th, Bright One.

For someone who claims no one would want her at this age, I thought I’d take the chance before the line forms. I haven’t forgotten that you owe me a book recommendation.

— A.

She stared at the note, cheeks warming so fast it felt like she’d swallowed sunlight.

“Oh goodness,” came her friend Selene’s voice from behind. “Who are those from?”

“Ummm no one.”

Giggling, Selene reached around her in a flash and snatched the card from her hand.

“Oooooohhhhhhh,” she sung. “Definitely not a one-time thing, then.”

“It’s not like that,” Y/N said quickly, her blush deepening. “He’s just being—nice.”

“Nice? You can’t find these flowers everywhere, babe.” Selene said.

Her friend then stared at the box in wonder. “You should definitely open the box.”

“What do you think it is?” Y/N asked.

“Probably a dagger, he seems to like those things.”

Y/N squawked, “A dagger?? Are you insane? Why would he give me one of those?”

Selene chuckled, “Umm, so you can defend yourself while he’s not here to be your knight in shining armor?”

Trying to believe her own words, Selene playfully practiced her fighting moves with a nonexistent dagger. “Yeah definitely that!”

Y/N shook her head. “As much as I love how your brain works, it can’t be dagger. There’s no way.”

Her friend only raised her brows and pointed to the box. Sighing, Y/N tentatively unwrapped the present.

Inside, nestled in black velvet, sat a delicate necklace with a deep blue stone and matching earrings, shaped like falling stars. Ethereal. Night Court craftsmanship, undoubtedly.

The two of them sat in silence for a minute. Selene wasn’t sure if Y/N was breathing.

“Sweet Mother,” Selene breathed. “These are gorgeous. How will you ever thank him? Since, you know, it was just a ‘one-time thing’.”

Snapping out of her thoughts, Y/N reminded herself to breathe and rolled her eyes at her friend. “I don’t know. Maybe next time he’s in Day.”

“You are telling me that you’ll just thank him next time he’s here?”

“What am I supposed to do? Sprout wings and fly to the Night Court immediately?”

Selene giggled, “I mean it’s not a bad idea. That way you could thank him properly.” Wiggling her eyebrows for dramatic effect.

Y/N gasped, hitting her friend playfully. “Absolutely not. You are so vulgar. I would never do that.”

The two stared at each other before falling into a fit of laughter.

“Okay mayyybe. Perhaps if the appropriate moment, you know, happened to happen. I would gracefully get on my knees…”

Before Y/N could finish her sentence, Selene slapped a hand over Y/N’s mouth. “And you say I’m vulgar! Does he know about these naughty things you say!?!”

“Of course not, he thinks I’m a perfect angel,” Y/N smirked.

“Hmm then you must have not talked very much on that date because you my friend are far from an angel.”

Y/N mockingly gasped and gestured to the jewelry that seemed to sparkle as if they too couldn’t hold in their laughter. “Then explain these gifts!”

“Wellllll hear me out,” her friend drawled, wiggling her brows. “I think I have the perfect way to thank him. There is a thing called Starfall next week in the Night Court…”

“We can’t just invite ourselves!” Y/N protested. “He probably already has a date.”

“Why not? When’s the last time we’ve been on vacation? You’re working on your birthday. Come on Y/N. You’re in desperate need of a break. I’m in desperate need of a scandal. And you—” she pointed at her with a smirk, “—have been gifted jewelry and flowers by the shadowsinger of the Night Court. I can promise you, he doesn’t already have a date.”

Y/N glanced down at the necklace again, fingers ghosting over the silver chain. “We don’t have dresses. Or a place to stay.”

“Pfft,” her friend scoffed. “Leave that to me. Dresses, done. Place to stay—handled. Not that you need one, I’m sure the Shadowsinger has a big enough bed. All you need to do is pack your bag and maybe think about what book you’re going to show him next. You know, to repay him.”

Her mouth twitched. “You're relentless.”

“It's why you love me. And besides… tell me you don't want to see him again.”

She didn’t answer. Just glanced at the card again. The way his inked scrawl curved her nickname. The way the bouquet shimmered under the library’s lights.

After a long moment, Y/N murmured, “Okay. Fine. I guess it has been a while.”

Her friend squealed, clapping. “Starfall, here we come!”

Y/N tried to fight her smile. Really, she did. But it was hopeless. The glow from the flowers mirrored the glow in her chest as she turned back to her desk—her mind already drifting far, far from the scrolls in front of her.

To the stars.

To a Night Court male who remembered her birthday.

“Okay let’s do it!”

[wolvietxt]

ᰔ chamomile tea !

↳ frank castle x female reader

you don’t hear him come in. the door creaks just a little, but your head stays bowed over the kitchen table, hands loose in your lap. there’s a soft ache behind your eyes that’s been growing all afternoon — nothing big enough to cry about, just one of those long, grey days that settles into your bones and stays there.

the hum of the kettle starts behind you. you blink once, slow. you didn’t ask. didn’t move. didn’t say a word.

but he knows anyway.

he doesn’t speak. never does, really, not when it’s like this. not when you’re worn thin and heavy in that quiet way that doesn’t want to be seen. but still — he sees it. he always does.

a mug appears beside your elbow, pushed close enough for the steam to touch your skin. honey. no lemon. two teabags.

you stare at it for a second too long. the soft golden color, the way it curls at the top from the heat. he’s already stepped back. leaning against the counter, arms crossed, like he didn’t just read your mood down to the last thread.

“thanks,” you say, voice barely above the whistle of the kettle cooling. you wrap your hands around the mug and let the warmth bleed into your fingers. it feels like something unwinding in your chest. slow and careful.

he shrugs like it’s nothing, like he didn’t just reach into you without touching. “long day?”

you nod. that’s all he needs.

he doesn’t push, doesn’t ask what happened. frank’s not the type. he lets the silence sit between you like something alive, something soft. doesn’t fill it with noise or questions or things you’re too tired to answer.

instead, he moves around the kitchen in that quiet, solid way of his — puts away a dish, runs the tap low. doesn’t look at you again, not yet. just stays close enough that you can feel the comfort of him nearby. familiar weight. steady hands.

you sip the tea. it’s perfect. warm and strong, sweet enough to catch on your tongue, like he knew exactly what would make your shoulders drop a little. he did.

you glance at him. his jaw’s tight like always, but there’s a softness in his eyes when he finally meets your gaze. like he’s checking in. like he’s listening without saying it.

“you always make it right,” you murmur. “even the bad-day version.”

he doesn’t smile, not exactly, but the corners of his mouth twitch like they want to. “’course i do.”

your lips quirk, just a little. “you keep a chart or somethin’?”

“just pay attention,” he says. then, a little softer, “that’s all.”

you look down again, to the tea. to the steam still rising. you don’t say it, but it means something — more than a drink, more than the routine of it. it’s him. it’s how he stays close without crowding. how he sees you without making you explain yourself.

“you always know,” you say under your breath. “even when i don’t.”

frank comes closer then, rests his hand against the back of your neck. warm and grounding. his thumb brushes the edge of your hairline, and it makes something in your chest ache in the best kind of way.

“you don’t gotta say anything,” he murmurs. “i’ll still take care of you.”

you lean into his touch. his palm is rough, calloused, but gentle as anything.

“you’re too good at it,” you whisper.

he huffs a small laugh through his nose. “nah. just got good taste in people.”

you smile into your mug.

he leans down, presses a kiss to the top of your head — soft, like he’s sealing in the comfort. “finish your tea, sweetheart.”

“yes, sir.”

his thumb strokes the curve of your neck once before pulling away. he heads for the hallway, probably to grab a blanket, maybe your favorite sweater from the bedroom. something else to tuck around you like protection.

but even if he didn’t — even if it was just the tea and the quiet and the closeness — you’d still feel held. because that’s what frank does. not loud, not showy. just steady. present. always two steps ahead when you need something without ever making you feel like a burden.

you sip again, slower now.

outside, the sun’s dipped past the window. shadows stretch long across the floor, but the kitchen feels warm. golden.

you wrap both hands tighter around the mug and close your eyes.

he always remembers.

FRANK CASTLE : @stvr-dust, @uncertified-doc, @erospecies, @seasonofthenerd, @the-dixon-effect

@sreidmia, @10ava01, @divierses, @408destiiny, @tinyminxi

@tcddszn, @xanaxiii, @Blu-jays, @chaoticcoffeequeen, @frankies-girl

@person-005, @malfoys-demigod, @wkhannah

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[midnightquips]

Dangerously Close

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky & Y/N are undeniably attracted to each other. Seemingly the only way these two are getting together is with some extreme meddling.

Themes: mutual pining, teasing teammates, possessive Bucky, dirty talk, praise kink, jealousy, soft aftercare, Thunderbolts chaos, friends-to-lovers-but-stupid about it, pining (a lot)

Dangerously Close Masterlist

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Chapter 1: Sparks & Sandwiches

Part III

It’s 2:47 a.m. and you’re awake, lying flat on your back. Your eyes are focused on the ceiling of the room, brain stuck replaying the exact moment Bucky wiped caramel from your thumb like it was the most normal thing in the world.

It wasn’t. Not for you.

You turn over with a sigh and bury your face in the pillow. It’s not just that one moment. It’s a culmination of all the little moments. His hand casually resting on your lower back in the kitchen, the way he says your name when he’s not being flirty. The heat in his eyes when you catch him watching you train.

It makes you feel hot all over and more than a little dizzy.

But then you have to snap yourself to reality again that he’s Bucky Barnes. Ex-assassin. Avenger. Thunderbolt legend. The broody heartthrob of the entire compound.

And no matter how much Yelena hypes you, you’re… well, you. New to the team. Confident, sure—but not delusional. It’s almost crazy to assume that he actually wants you like that.

Not when he’s like that.

You think he doesn’t even realize it, how natural of a flirt he is. You heard him call Ava darling last week. You saw him smirk at a journalist during a press debrief and practically knock her out with just a look.

And yeah, he touches people. You’ve seen him rest his arm on Alexei or Bob’s shoulder every now and then. That’s probably just his thing.

You roll onto your back and continue to stare blankly at the ceiling. Stop thinking about this.

You cover your face with a blanket, groaning in frustration. You are so screwed.

Three floors below, Bucky Barnes is in his own version of hell.

Wiping caramel from your thumb has only triggered a string of fantasies. He dreams of your mouth, of your thighs.

Not in some slow, artful, wistful kind of way. No. These dreams are filthy. Your curves straddling his lap on the couch. Your fingers tugging in his hair while you ride his face. Your laugh in his ears as he presses you against the kitchen counter and slides into you, whispering how long he’s wanted you.

He wakes up sweating, panting.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, rubbing a hand down his face.

It’s been years since he had a dream like that. And never one this vivid. He can still smell the caramel on your skin. Still feel your thighs around his head. Still hear the hitch in your breath when he touched your waist earlier.

“Stop,” he groans aloud, as if that will make it go away.

It doesn’t help that you’ve been touchy lately. Not clingy. Just... familiar. A hand on his shoulder when you pass behind him. A quick brush against his arm in the kitchen. Gripping his bicep when Bob makes a joke that sends you laughing too hard.

And you never pull away.

Not once.

That does things to him. Desperate, unhinged things.

He’s going to combust.

The next morning is unusually quiet. Bob and Ava’s still asleep. Yelena is running. John’s probably outside yelling at the sky and doing push-ups.

You find yourself alone in the kitchen, which is always comforting you. It doesn’t last long because Bucky soon walks in.

He finds you humming under your breath, standing barefoot in front of the stove in an oversized Duran Duran tee that hits mid-thigh, legs bare from the short shorts. You’re making omelets. 

And Bucky’s pretty sure this is how men die.

“Morning,” you say, not turning around.

“Hey.” His voice cracks and coughs. “Smells good.”

“You always say that.” You glance over your shoulder and smirk. “I’m starting to think you only hang around me for the food.”

“I hang around you for a lot of reasons.” he says casually

You pause.

Turn. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The two of you just… stare.

The pan sizzles. You’re the one to look away first. “Distracting me will only result in a burnt omelet for you.”

He steps closer until he’s at your back again, a place he’s become too fond of. “I really don’t care.”

You elbow him gently. “You will when you’re hungry in an hour.”

He laughs softly, suppressing the incredible urge to just steal a kiss. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You shrug and flip the pan. “Takes one to know one.”

The spell is broken when you hear steps coming down the hallway and soon enough, then others walk in.

Yelena flops across the kitchen island, still damp from her shower. “Please tell me there’s coffee.”

“There’s always coffee,” you say, sliding a mug toward her.

She perks up. “God, you’re perfect.”

“Absolutely.” Bucky mutters before he can stop himself. He pauses in shock.

The room goes quiet.

Even the toaster pops awkwardly.

You turn slowly, orange juice in hand. Heat rising up to your cheeks.

Bucky opens his mouth, closes it and then attempts to say. “I meant—like—I meant because of the coffee—Jesus, never mind.”

Yelena grins into her cup.

Alexei strolls in with a yawn. “What did I miss?”

“Bucky’s giving Y/N compliments before 9 a.m.,” Yelena says.

“Ah,” Alexei replies, rubbing his hands together. “We are making progress.”

Bucky groans and continues to noisily eat his breakfast, silently signaling that he will throw that for to anyone who tries to approach him again during breakfast.

That afternoon, training is mercifully light—mostly debriefs and paperwork.

You’re halfway through reading a mission summary when Yelena drops onto the couch beside you and whispers, “He’s going to break if you keep wearing shorts like that.”

You don’t even look up. “What do you mean?”

“You know WHO I mean.” Yelena nods at you

You shake your head in disbelief, “Your imagination is running wild again.”

“All I’m saying is I just think you should be prepared for spontaneous combustion.” she insists

You sigh, “Stop.”

“Make me.” she teases

You glance over. “Okay. What do you want?”

She grins. “To help.”

You look at her suspiciously, eyes narrowing, “That’s not ominous at all.”

“No, seriously. I just think it’s tragic that two people who clearly want to climb each other like trees are stuck in this weird little dance.”

“No, we do not. Stop. He might hear.” you say quickly, looking around to make sure no one could hear

Yelena raises a brow slyly. “He had a dream about you last week. Called your name in his sleep.”

You freeze. “You’re making that up.”

“Am I?” she smirks. “I was walking past his room. The door was cracked open. I have excellent hearing.”

You blink.

Yelena might tease a little too much but she wasn’t a liar. You just didn’t know what to do with this information.

So, you blink again. 

“Are you okay?” she asks, clearly enjoying seeing your malfunction

“Uhm maybe,” you say, a little breathless. “No, I don’t know.”

Later that night, Bucky finds himself sitting on the compound roof, legs dangling over the edge, nursing a beer he hasn’t even opened. He just needs air. Space. A little time to not think about your legs, your face, your smile. Your presence has been overwhelming for a 106-year old man and he is clearly on the edge of his sanity. 

He also needs space from the teammates before they kick him out for being grumpier than he already is.

“Brooding again?”

He doesn’t even need to turn. Alexei’s larger than life personality boomed through his voice.

“I’m fine,” Bucky mutters.

Alexei drops down beside him with a long, dramatic sigh. “You young people are exhausting.”

Bucky snorts. “Says the guy who faked his death six times.”

“Seven,” Alexei corrects. “But who’s counting?”

They sit in silence for a moment.

“She is lovely,” Alexei says at last. “Y/N. Very warm. Very funny.”

“I know.”

“Very beautiful.”

Bucky clenches his jaw.

Alexei smiles knowingly. “Ah, there it is.”

“What are you getting at?”

Alexei shrugs. “You want her. She wants you. But neither of you do anything. I’m thinking perhaps I should assist.”

“I don’t need—”

“I’ll be subtle,” Alexei waves a hand. “Small things. Gentle nudges. Maybe I get you both drunk and put on slow music. Classic Soviet technique.”

Bucky groans. “Please don’t.”

“No promises.”

Another beat.

“She cooks like my mother,” Alexei sighs wistfully. “I would marry her myself if you weren’t already drooling over her like Labrador.”

Bucky looks down at the unopened bottle in his hand. “It’s not just that.”

“I know.”

“I think about her all the time.”

“I know.”

“She thinks I flirt with everyone.”

Alexei raises an eyebrow. “Do you?”

“Not like this.”

Alexei smiles. “Good. Then you won’t mind if I meddle. Just a little.”

“I will literally kill you.”

Alexei stands, brushing imaginary dust off his jeans and having fully decided on his own volition. “As long as it’s after the wedding.”

TAGLIST: @mrsnikolestan @killerwendigo

Divider credit: @saradika-graphics

[revolvingsaturn]

Summary: Work parties are boring. Why not fuck in an office instead?

(Teacher!Izuku x reader smut)

🫧🌱

You’ve always thought Izuku was pretty. It’s probably one of the main reasons you married him, you think absentmindedly as he fucks you against the desk of his little UA faculty office. You turn your head backwards slightly and get met with watery green eyes behind fogged lenses, wet lips and messy hair as your husband pants into the air of the room.

Half an hour previous, you’d been lounging awkwardly on the wall of the meeting room that’d been converted to a party, slowly nursing a drink. ‘Party’ in the loosest sense of the word you supposed, making awkward small talk with past teachers about hero work and how life was going. It wasn’t boring, per se, but it wasn’t exactly stimulating either- the entire affair felt much more like a hero commission networking event than a party. And, to make matters worse, you couldn’t stop staring at your husband.

You always thought he was attractive-how couldn’t you-but watching him through mascara coated eyelashes as he moved around the room in his suit and his glasses was almost too much to bear for you; the minute he walked away from the conversation he was having you were dragging him into the hallway and pressing your lips to his. He reciprocated, admittedly with mild confusion, and gazed down at you with stars in his eyes as you spoke.

“You’re so hot when you’re professional,” you get out through breathless lips.

“You think?” He replies, almost shocked at your sudden change in demeanour. While never one to shy away from public intimacy, having sex right outside the same room all of your previous teachers and his current work colleagues were in was too risky even for you.

“You got any idea of where we can take this?” You say between planting kisses on his neck, being careful not to smudge makeup on the collar you ironed for him.

He doesn’t reply-not with words, anyway- just a searingly aroused look through half lidded green eyes and he’s intertwining his fingers with yours and leading you to his office. You briefly take a moment to gaze at his desk- covered in reminders, notebooks and scattered pens with a framed photo of you both in the corner; there’s even a few ‘thank you’ cards from students pinned to the wall and you smile- until you’re swiftly being bent over the desk, chair kicked to the side by Izuku as he leans over you.

“You thought I wouldn’t notice?” He breathes down your neck, hot enough to make you shiver as his hand softly trails its way from your hip to the hemline of your skirt. That’s the thing with Izuku- he’s always soft, always caring- he’ll edge you until you’re crying, sure, but he’ll never snap or grab you so hard you’re left with bruises.

“Notice what?” You say, feigning false innocence, even as you feel yourself practically flood your underwear at the thought of being fucked into oblivion on his desk.

“You.” He breathes back. “You’ve been watching me all night, distracting me- you’ve been trying to get me to do this, have you? Get me to bend you over my desk and fuck you like the needy slut you are.”

You intake a sharp breath at his words- he’s never spoken to you this crudely before, and the thought only makes you slicker as you hear the telltale noise of his belt unbuckling behind you, clasp clinking through the office. It’s out of character for him, but then again you did ask for this.

A hand travels up the curve of your spine to entangle itself in your hair; not tugging, just resting there as its counterpart slowly, teasingly skirts its way up the back of your thigh to gently push the fabric of your dress over your hips until you’re completely exposed. You hear Izuku’s breathing rate rise when you let out a little squeaky moan at the feeling of his fingers starting to rub tiny sharp circles over your clit before they eventually push your soaked underwear to the side and enter you.

Your nails scrabble at the desk when he starts to crook his fingers inside you, but when you raise your head to turn and look at him the hand in your hair pushes you back down so your cheek is squished against the desk. It’s torture, you love seeing Izuku’s face during sex and you can just picture his fogged up glasses skewed slightly on his face, lips parted as he grins down at your squirming form.

He’s mean, fingers scissoring inside your pussy while his hand shoves your face more onto the desk. You can’t even raise a hand to cover your mouth because the hand on your scalp moves to insert two fingers into your mouth. You moan around them and he laughs, actually laughs behind you; you know how you must look, so fucked out and he hasn’t even really fucked you yet. His fingers withdraw from your pussy and you groan, annoyed at the loss, the sound muffled around the fingers still prodding around your mouth.

You hear the faint noise of a zip being undone and fabric rustling behind you and the anticipation is killing you; he drags the tip of his cock through your folds until you’re practically begging for it as best you can around the fingers in your mouth. A thin trail of drool makes its way down your chin to rest on the desk. Izuku pays it no mind as he suddenly and without warning slips fully inside of you; you gasp at the sudden pleasure and your manicured nails scrabble for purchase on the wood of his desk.

They find none.

You can only moan loudly into the office, Izuku’s cock prodding the soft spot inside of you that you can never quite seem to reach with your fingers. His hand keeps moving, one moment it’s on your clit rubbing tiny shapes and next it’s gripping your hip or shakily brushing hair back from your face so he can watch the way your cheek rubs against the desk with every snap of his hips.

But it’s still not enough- he’s being harsh, sure, harsher than usual, but he’s still whispering praises into your hair and using the thumb outside of your mouth to rub adoring circles into your cheek. You wrack your pleasure addled brain for something you could do to make him finally snap, and then it hits you- just this morning you were discussing kids over breakfast. Was it slight weaponisation of his deepest feelings? Yes, but did you want him to fuck you so hard you can’t stand properly for a week? Absolutely.

And so, you gasp out through drool covered lips, around his fingers:

“Want you to put a baby in me, Izu..” you moan.

He practically freezes, hips stalling.

“You- you mean that?” He breathes out.

You simply nod back, eyes locking onto his, and that’s all it takes- he’s withdrawing his fingers so he can bite at your lips and lick into your mouth while his hips snap into yours again and again and again until there’s literally nothing else on your mind; you know that you’re being loud, that your ex teachers are just down the hallway but you honestly can’t find it within yourself to care.

Your husband is frantically fucking into you with all the grace of a bull in a china shop as he desperately whimpers into your ear praise about how pretty you are, how lovely you’ll look full of him. He’s as delirious as you are, panting and moaning and whining into your ear the most depraved sentences you’ve ever heard exit his lips.

You’ve never been so turned on in your life.

“Gonna- gonna cum-“ he’s whimpering into your ear as you clench around him.

“‘S okay.” You manage to slur back at him. “Want you to- to fill me up, Izu.”

You cum around him as his fingers rub shapes into your clit, the sensations almost too much as you writhe under him. You know he’s close, his thrusts are sloppy and miscalculated but ever so good as he humps wildly into your spent pussy. And just like that, with you whispering promises of babies to him in the dimly lit office, Izuku Midoriya cums into you with the longest, most drawn out, broken moan you’re ever managed to wrench from him.

You just lay there for a moment, his forehead pressed to the back of your sweaty neck while you feel his cum slowly drip out of you after he whimpers and pulls out. But then he’s pushing it back into you with shaking fingers, one hand holding your hips in place as you squirm in overstimulation. You stand on unsure legs, messily wrenching your dress back down with one hand while Izuku does up his pants.

You catch a glimpse of you both in the window and almost grin; you both look so entirely fucked out it’s almost comical- the makeup smeared across your face with your own saliva and messy hair, Izuku’s fogged up glasses he’s bending down to pick up from the floor and his sweaty face.

One thing for sure, you absolutely cannot go back to the party like this- he rushes out and emails the staff a fake excuse about you getting ‘food poisoning’ before you’re both giggling as you flop into the front seats of your car.

Izuku clears his throat first- “did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” You say in response.

“About the whole baby thing, because I’d really like to have a baby with you and I think we’d be really good parents. Number one you’re really funny, number two-“

And he’s rattling off a list at you the whole drive home.

🫧🌱

[justalittlespore]

I think there's something a lot of people don't realize about media on the internet. Not that long ago (to my elder millennial mind at least), places like youtube (as an example of a platform I publish on - but the same applies to platforms for writing, comics, painting, etc.) were new and kind of empty. People were still working out how to use it. The average person didn't have the means to make a video anyone would want to watch. There was very little competition. The best video creators stood out against the rest and became successful, because there weren't that many options to choose from.

These days, those platforms are all absolutely saturated. Everyone has a tiny, shitty computer in their pocket that they can use to write or make videos or art or whatever they feel like. If you're just starting out as an artist of some kind and trying to enter an established online platform, it doesn't matter if you're creating the most incredible, innovative, perfect art ever made, because no one is going to find you in the massive pile of sludge that gets shoveled onto that platform every day. Becoming successful without doing some very heavy self-marketing basically only happens if by some wild chance, one of your things goes viral or gets noticed by someone who's already popular. And even then, your success is usually short-lived, unless you destroy yourself making sure to output more and more Content~ every single day so that people always have something new to consume.

I often see established artists across various platforms telling their fans that if they want to be successful, all they have to do is work hard, keep improving, and don't give up, and "your audience will find you." Because that was true when they first started out. But that is not true anymore.

If you want to be successful as an artist of any kind online these days, you have to relentlessly self-promote everywhere you can, develop and use marketing skills you probably don't already have and may in fact find distasteful to engage with, and make daily sacrifices to whatever deities might happen to be listening, because no matter how much you self-promote, you still won't find success without a lot of luck.

That's just how it is now. It sucks. Artists shouldn't also have to be marketing experts and promoters, but if they want to survive, they have no choice.

For your work to speak for itself, for word of mouth to do its job, first people have to know you exist in an incomprehensible large sea of other people trying to do the same thing.

This gripe is not directed here, but towards other platforms I as an author am forced to exist on when I wish I could be under my desk working on a novella.

But. If I see one more post about how it's "cringe" to self plug your work. Istg. Look me in my queer brown eyes. No one else is going to say my name or put my work in the ring for me.

If I want to be a part of a conversation or have any opportunity I have to put myself forward. In this era of abysmal publishing support even trad authors like me are out here hustling. We are doing it all, publicity, appearances, book swag all out of our pockets, during time we could be writing. All while publishing throws massive deals at white dudes who don't even have a book written!!

Do you think I've worked this hard, kicking down literally hundreds of doors slammed in my face to publish a book to give a single shit if it might be cringe to put my hat in the ring????

[finallychaoticeffigy]

Yandere kidnapper x reader

(He's hot...)

You jolt as thunder struck .You have always been afraid of thunder. The sudden intense noise always puts you on edge. However it's not just the volume, it’s the way it breaks the silence and reminds you shits can always happen the moment you least expect.

But there's nothing more terrifying than this monstrous man embracing you like there's no tomorrow.

His big arm wrap tightly around your waist while the other roams freely around other parts of your body. Lips attacking your neck groaning in satisfaction.

He always does this, he never gets sick of it. In fact it almost felt like hes addicted. Furthermore, he doesn't even wear a t-shirt around you, you once questioned him about this.

"Y/n your my lover, besides it helps me feel you more. Fucking clothes just get in the way baby." He responded with care as he kissed your cheeks.

He always whispers sweet things about you, how much he loves you and not just for your body but the whole you,how you're so perfect, your personality being the sweetest. How beautiful you are and how he would die and kill for you.

He always makes time for you. No matter how busy he is, just one word from you and he'll set it all aside just to spend time with you. He always takes care of you, give your needs and wants, you see you didn't even need to lift a finger, you just need to depend on him.

He truly is the best man. Any girl would love to have him, you too.... to be honest. It would all be so sweet. If....If he didn't kidnapped you months ago and forced you to stay with him.

He has brought you into a huge mansion in the woods with no human insight. 'I want us to be together with no interruption , others can go and fuck themselves. Now come here and gimme my morning kiss' you remembered him say once.

At first you tried to escape, but how could you , the windows from your room are way too high to jump and he doesn't even let you out of this stupid bedroom. So you started behaving to gain his trust until you're allowed to roam outside this room.

Your hardwork pays off , he starts trusting you more, you begin to wander around the mansion, taking notes inside your head, thinking ways for your escape.

--------------

You gradually felt him asleep beside you. You sighed in relief. The sleeping pills have worked. Now's your chance, you have waited for so long for this moment.

You slowly began to separate his arms around you. Careful not to wake him up. You felt your breath stopped for a moment as he groaned.

"Y/n " brows knit together, calling you in his sleep. Goodness even in his sleep, he probably held you captive too.

You successfully detached his arms , heart beating fast as you hurriedly got up and quietly like a mouse ran through the door , you didn't look back you just closed the door hoping not to make a sound.

You ran downstairs adrenaline rush through your veins. When you see the main door you dash as if your life depends on it, well because it did.

You twist the knob.....Locked. How could you be so stupid, of course he would lock it, especially at night. You tried to break the door but it was useless. You ran through the other direction, you would try to get out of the other doors you always saw when you're wandering around.

"Fuck my life" you cursed, it's not working, this was the 8th door you tried yet you couldn't get out.

"Y/n ! Sweetheart where are you ? ! " You knew that deep voice very well, it's him. How could he have woken up so fast?!

Tears began to form your eyes . Everything's useless now. You started to blame yourself. If only you're strong enough. This wouldn't have happened. But you knew very well you couldn't do anything about it.

He stormed inside the room with the same window you were planning to use as an escape route. You shrieked as he once again, wrapped around you like a snake.

"Baby why are you always running away from me?"

"I-i am sorry, i di-"

"Shh.... there there i forgive you...I love you too much to even get mad at you" he cooed like he was talking to a baby , kissing your hair gently.

"But I sure am fucking pissed about how you lied straight to my damn face when you said you weren't gonna run away baby" he bit your neck hard as you tremble in fear.

He picks you up still squeezing you tight. "Now... let's go to our bedroom and make up for it"

[flowery-mess]

pairing: nerd Noah x female reader (Rosie)

warnings: a 5 year old asking a lots of questions?😭

words: 3,1 k

author's note: I didn't think he could be any cuter until I gave him a niece🥹

nerd Noah masterlist

A date night at Noah’s place on Friday night was exactly what you needed after the whole week. He didn’t have to persuade you much, because 1) you’re always down to spend time with him and 2) he wanted you to help him with the new Star Wars puzzle he got from his friends.

You knew nothing about the picture laying in front of you, but that made it even more exciting. Every time you managed to find pieces that made a new character Noah made sure to tell you all about them.

The puzzle had 18 000 pieces and you hoped to use it as your excuse to stay for the whole weekend. Not that Noah needed any excuses to let you stay at his place, but you still hoped that you won’t finish it in one go.

Noah’s phone started to ring out of nowhere, his sister’s name popping up on the screen. The sound of his ringtone made you mess up the new part you were putting together which made Noah chuckle before he stood up to accept the call.

“Sorry it’s my sister.” he apologized for interrupting your activity, but you didn’t mind it at all.

You continued placing the puzzle pieces together and occasionally popping a grape in your mouth.

Noah surprised you with a nice dinner that you can comfortably eat while sitting on his living room floor by the coffee table.

He used the separable piece of his couch and put a big plate with food on it. He bought all of your favorite cheeses, some fruit and vegetables with different dips, bread from a family bakery down the street he lived at and also some meat he managed to cook before you arrived.

“Well, of course you can, I just-” you heard Noah talk, wondering what they were talking about and why was he looking at you the way he was. With a worried expression on his face. “I have Rosie over.”

When you heard your name and the mention of you being at his place made you stop playing around with the puzzle and sit up straight, raising your eyebrows at him.

“Okay, see ya.” he finished the phone call and made his way back to you.

“Well? Why do you look like that?” you asked him, not knowing what kind of news he heard on the phone.

“My brother in law was on a work trip and his car broke down and my sister needs to get him.” he started.

“Okay?” you pushed him to continue.

“And she doesn’t want to take Zoe with her this late so she asked me to watch her for the night.” he finished his little speech.

“Oh! Of course.” you said, not exactly knowing what this meant for you. Did he want you to stay or was that a hint for you to leave before they arrive?

You looked around the place, seeing the pile of unsolved puzzles on the coffee table and the still full plate of food and then back at him.

Noah felt just as weird as you, not knowing if you wanted to stay or leave and was afraid that whatever he says will sound stupid.

“I’m gonna get going then.” you said with a polite smile and started to get up from the place you were sitting at on the floor.

Noah let you gather your things before he got the confidence to say “Wait, you don’t have to leave. You can stay here.” you found his eyes that were avoiding your gaze, his cheeks were a bit red. He was scared that him asking you to stay and babysit his niece will throw you off, meeting his family too soon. “If you want, of course.” he quickly added.

“Do you think they’ll like me?” you were nervous.

He’s the younger brother, of course you were scared to meet his sister. And his niece is only 5 and you’re scared of kids that age. They can be mean and you don’t know how to offend yourself against kids.

“Of course, Zoe loves everyone, she’ll think you’re pretty and be happy she can talk to someone who understands clothes and hair stuff better than me. And knowing my sister she’ll probably be in a rush and joke about how she’s the man in their marriage, saving her husband's ass again.” he laughed at the image of the two of them rushing through his door in a few minutes. But he could see your nervous face so he continued. “Or you can stay here and I’ll go pick Zoe downstairs so you don’t have to meet my sister if you don’t feel like that, it’s okay. Or even if you want to leave I’ll understand, it wasn’t planned so it’s absolutely fine if you don’t wanna stay.” he closed the distance between you two and reached out for your hand.

“How much time do I have to prepare myself?” you asked him and tried to smile through the nerves.

Noah’s lips turned into a smile too, he leaned down to kiss your lips before looking at his phone.

“I’d say about 10 minutes?”

“Oh god.” you started panicking. You didn’t even have time to leave, with your luck you’d probably meet them on your way out and sneaking out of the window wasn’t really an option with Noah living on the 6th floor.

“Calm down bug, Zoe will be fine and my sister won’t stay for more than 3 minutes.” he cupped your face in his hands and kissed your forehead. “I told them about you anyway and they said you sound like a nice girl.” he murmured against your skin, blush coming back to his cheeks with the confession he just made.

“You did?” you pulled away enough to see his eyes.

“Yep.”

You opened your mouth to ask him about what he said about you, but at the same time his bell rang.

“Oh god.” you repeated and he just chuckled at your face, he kissed your forehead one more time before he went to unlock the main door for them.

You made your way towards him, trying to hide behind his big shoulders while smothering down your hair to make sure you look presentable.

You heard a short knock way below the level of your ears followed by sweet little “It’s meee.” which made you ease up a bit.

Noah opened the door and you were met with a tall brunette woman and little girl that looked like a mini version of her. Both of them had the same nose and eyes as Noah.

“Hi! I’m Zoe.” the little girl waved at you and before you even took a breath to introduce yourself she started talking again. “Do you wanna play with me and be my friend? We can braid uncle Nowah’s hair together.”

And in that moment you knew you just met your little partner in crime.

“Hi, I’m Noah’s sister. It’s so nice to finally meet the girl that makes my little brother blush every time he talks about her.” the woman in front of you extended her hand towards you and you accepted it.

“Hi, I’m Rosie. Nice to meet you too, Noah talks a lot about you too.”

“I bet it’s not as nice as he talks about you.” she laughed and released your hand.

“Oh me too!” Zoe said and when you looked down at her she was extending her little hand towards you. You crouched down on her level and shook her hand with a chuckle.

“Uncle Noah said you’re pretty and that you drew him a heart. I like drawing hearts too.” she told you excitedly, still not letting go of your hand.

“Okay, can you two stop embarrassing me.” Noah finally spoke up, his face red all over.

“And he also said you got him a guitar!” his sister said excitedly.

“And cookies!” Zoe added.

“Like mother like daughter.” Noah mumbled and took Zoe’s little backpack in his hand. “Don’t you have a husband to save?”

“Right. I wish I could stay and talk to you. We need to grab a coffee sometime.” she said before she picked Zoe up and gave her kiss on the cheek. “I’m gonna get daddy and we’re gonna pick you up tomorrow okay? Be good for uncle Noah and Rosie.”

“Drive safe.” Noah said and made space for Zoe to walk in his apartment.

“He’s right you’re really pre-” Noah closed the door in his sister’s face before she could finish the sentence and you heard “That was rude.” followed by her footsteps.

“That was really rude, I didn’t even say bye to her!” you whined, scared that she’s going to think badly of you now.

You followed Noah back to his living room where you found Zoe closely inspecting the unfinished puzzle.

“Do you wanna join us while we finish it?” you asked her.

“Can we do something else please?” her eyebrows were furrowed when she looked over the size of the puzzle pieces, too much work for a little girl.

“Of course. What would you like to do?” you sat down on the couch and she slowly made her way towards you. She crawled on the couch and sat next to you, her thinking face reminding you too much of Noah’s when he has a problem to solve.

“Do you like mermaids?” she asked out of nowhere and tilted her head so she could look at you.

Her eyes were big and had the little spark only kids have in their eyes. She was inspecting your appearance, thinking that your hair looks beautiful and how you look like a real life princess.

“I love mermaids.” you heard Noah chuckle at the interaction. He was sitting at the other end of the couch, ready to jump in if Zoe would ask something inappropriate or make you uncomfortable.

“Me too.” she nodded her head and her two ponytails moved with it. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Pink. What’s yours?” she held her breath in and did a dramatic face at your answer.

“Mine is also pink!” her excitement was so pure.

“No way!” you supported the momentum with your own reaction.

“Who’s your favorite princess?” she had a lot of questions.

“Hmm, Cinderella I think. Yours?” you completely forgot about Noah, who was watching the two of you with heart eyes.

“Ariel.” that made sense. “I have the fishie!” she said excitedly and then ran for her backpack.

She set it down next to you, opened it and started pulling things out.

A barbie doll. Pink hairbrush. Fake money from a board game. Number of hair ties. Melted candy. Clothes for the next day. And then finally a little yellow fish plushie.

“Here.” she put it on your lap, waiting for your reaction.

“Wow, that’s so cool!”

“I wanted a real one, but mom said no.”

“You can get one when you’re older.” you were already thinking of buying her a little fish for her birthday.

“Are you hungry Zoe?” Noah spoke up, reminding you both of his presence.

“Nope.” she sat back next to you and started swinging her legs.

“But your mom said you didn’t have dinner yet.” Noah said with a parent tone.

“Maybe later.” she just shrugged her shoulders and shifted her gaze back at you.

“Your uncle told me you taught him how to make origami. Is that true?” you let her take your hand in both of her smaller ones and look at your manicure.

“Mhm, we learned that in school. Do you want me to teach you too?”

“I’d love that.”

“Okay.” she jumped off the couch and tugged at your hand, leading you towards the dining table.

“I guess I’ll entertain myself then.” you heard Noah talk to himself.

You let Zoe dig through the drawers of Noah’s desk to get some papers for you both and leaned down to kiss Noah’s cheek.

“How about you go make some dinner for her while we play?”

“Okay.” he caressed your hair and returned the kiss.

When you were in the middle of folding papers, following Zoe’s instructions because she was actually really good at it, Noah put two plates on the table with a quick pasta and sauce he made for dinner.

“Oh, I’m not hungry, we already had dinner.” you said when you saw him push one of the plates towards you.

“That was not real dinner, just a snack.”

“Can I have a snack?” Zoe’s ears caught the word snack and her eyes immediately lightened up.

“After you eat your dinner.” her lips turned into a fake pout, but she opened her mouth when Noah fed her some of the pasta.

“Do you have a favorite snack?” she asked with a full mouth, looking like a chipmunk.

“Ice cream.” you answered without needing a time to think about this question.

“I like chocolate the most.”

“Aren’t you two a family?” you smirked, knowing very well that Noah’s favorite snack is chocolate too.

“Can we have some chocolate?” she made puppy eyes at both of you, hoping that you’ll say yes to everything she asks for. “I won’t tell mom!” she quickly added and made you and Noah laugh.

After finishing your dinner, you cleaned all of the papers and scissors and put all of your origami animals on Noah’s window.

Noah and Zoe were currently in the bathroom and all you could hear was Zoe’s laugh and giggles. Sometimes a splash of water or an excited scream.

You didn’t know Noah was good with kids, but seeing him with Zoe made you love him even more.

That girl adores him so much and she loves having sleepovers at his place.

When you were doing origami she told you her favorite stories about uncle Noah, trying to whisper so he wouldn’t hear it, but her and her little mouth don’t know how to whisper. So soon after she finished a story you heard Noah yell “I can hear you!” which only made her laugh more.

After cleaning the mess, you went to unfold the couch, because Noah’s bed was too small for all three of you and Zoe insisted that she wants to sleep with both of you.

You made it comfy by bringing pillows and blankets from the bedroom, then you went to turn the lights down a bit and made your way to the bathroom.

“What happened here?” you stopped between the doors and saw the disaster.

Noah was sitting next to the bath in a puddle of water, his clothes soaked in random places while Zoe was looking pretty happy with the result of her hands splashing the water.

“I’m a mermaid!” she yelled before she started splashing the water again.

Noah took her out of the bath without a problem and wrapped her in a small pink towel. They had a routine and you loved watching them.

She pulled out a little stool from under the sink and stood on it so she could brush her teeth with the pink toothbrush that was next to Noah’s blue one.

“Where’s your toothbrush Rosie?” she mumbled with the pink plastic in her mouth and you thought of your toothbrush in your bag that you packed for the night.

You didn’t know what to say and Noah didn't either, feeling exposed by his niece that he hasn’t asked you to leave your stuff at his place yet.

Before you could answer she continued talking. “I think you should have one here too so we can do this sleepover again.”

You met Noah’s eyes through the mirror when he said “Yeah, I agree. You should have your toothbrush here too.”

It’s just a toothbrush, but you saw in Noah’s eyes that it meant more than that.

“Can we braid your hair uncle Noah? I’ll do the right side and Rosie will do the left so it’s like a competition.” Zoe crawled on the couch in her pink pyjama, making herself comfy under the big blanket.

“Let’s do that tomorrow, it’s late.” Noah tucked her legs with the blanket and threw the yellow fish at her.

“Uncle Nowaaah.” she tried to protest but her own body betrayed her with a yawn.

Noah only raised his eyebrows at her and she giggled.

“And they lived happily ever after.” you finished your bedtime story.

“That was a weird story, but I liked it.” Zoe said and you heard Noah laugh at that, which earned him a gentle kick to his legs.

Zoe wanted a story from you and Noah was zero help. You made up the weirdest story ever and you were sure he’s going to hold it against you later.

Zoe was laying in the middle with you and Noah by her sides. She was curled up to your side, which warmed your heart.

She knew you only for a few hours, but already felt comfortable enough to let you hold her while she fell asleep.

Noah’s heart was close to bursting with love at the sight.

He knew Zoe’s going to love you, she’s a little extrovert, but he was scared of what your reaction was going to be. You never mentioned anything about kids, so he was afraid you’re going to be bored or annoyed.

“Who will fall asleep first is the winner.” Noah said when he didn’t know how else to stop Zoe’s questions, because she was full of them.

She nuzzled her face into your neck and you felt like that’s where you’re supposed to be. Noah was laying on his side facing you, his legs lazily thrown over your legs and his hand was holding yours in a way that was comfortable for both of you.

After a few minutes you felt Zoe’s tiny body shuffling around before she (tried to) whisper a question for you.

“Do you really like my uncle Noah?”

You smiled at her curiosity.

“Can I tell you a secret? Only uncle Noah knows it.”

“Yeah.” you felt her head nod excitedly against you.

“I love your uncle Noah.” you whispered into the dark and felt Noah’s hand squeeze yours, telling you he loves you too.

“I think he loves you too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, my mom said that when uncle Noah talked about you.” you smiled at her honesty.

“Zoe, you should be sleeping already.” Noah mumbled into his pillow, avoiding any more of her exposing him.

“I love you uncle Nowah, I love you Rosie.” Zoe whispered sleepily against your chest before she fell asleep.

“I love you both too.” Noah said and carefully leaned down to kiss Zoe’s forehead and then yours, throwing one more “I love you.” into the dark.

dividers by silen-stories

This story is a work of fiction, with the plot and characters entirely made up. The appearance and name of the main male character are inspired by Noah Sebastian Davis, but the storyline bears no connection to the real person. Please do not steal or repost this work on other platforms without permission.

taglist: @lacy1986 @concretejunglefm @super-btstrash-posts @amelia-acero @justcarrie @koskeepsake @dominuslunae @ami--gami @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @lilcrazy011 @pipidoll @chey-h @xmads-omensx @blade-dressed-in-red @respectfulrebel @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @mrscevans @blvckmvgicwoman @punkprincess1999 @fear-its-beauty @bloody-spades @n0n3xsisting @thenmaybehellaintsobadafterall @athenexe @tashka @badomensls @fadingintothegrey @concrtlimits @whatismylifexox @theanarchymuse95 @renegadebirch @theasowle @darknightstarryeyes @montgomery-929496 @kenjipepsi1

[ladsrlife]

What are you doing step brother???!!!

Caleb x Reader

Where you start living with your step-brother for uni and on the second night he touches himself while you’re “asleep”….

You can read Chapter 1 here

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Chapter 2

You had a tough time falling asleep last night.

Why did Caleb get hard while you were on top of him?

Sure, you two were closer than most step siblings, and sometimes you two were touchy feely, and a little possessive. But that comes with most close relationships, right? Its a kind of love language.

But him getting hard… and you accidentally touching it? Well.. that was a different issue.

Was it just a boy thing? Where you know, female body parts just automatically rouse up a response, like a sunflower chasing the sun.

I mean, he’s a horny 20 year old. It’s the hormones.

The more you think about it, the more it makes sense. It’s just a boy thing.

With this conclusion in mind, you have no problem at all pretending nothing happened as you enter the kitchen in the morning.

“Good morning.” You greet a cooking Caleb as you sit down at the table.

“Mornin’.” He turns around from the stove and greets you with a smile. “Eggs and bacon?”

“Sounds amazing.” You get up to help him around the kitchen.

The two of you are uncommonly quiet, only the sizzling sound of food and the exhaust fan filling up the kitchen.

You sit across each other and start to eat breakfast in silence.

“How about we leave the house at 11?” Caleb asks, the first to break the silence.

“Sounds good.” You raise your head to look at Caleb. “Can we go to the DeepSpace Research Center first? I really wanna check it out.”

“Of course.” Caleb chuckles at your enthusiasm. “Though you’re probably gonna rot in there the next four years, anyway.”

With his smile he has his usual light demeanor. But you also can’t but help notice his eyebags and a faint tiredness in his eyes.

“Gotta check out the quality of my prison first.” You say as matter of fact. “I also want to see your building.” ”The aerospace engineering building? There’s not much.”

“Still. I wanna see everything. Where you study, where you eat, hang out with friends…”

“Really?” Caleb asks, his eyes lighting up.

You raise your eyebrows as if to ask him if he’s seriously asking that question.

Caleb smiles and lowers his eyes. He fidgets with his food. “Then we can go to the research center first, then visit the park on the way to the aerospace engineering building-”

You listen as he goes over the plans of today with an excited expression.

The two of you end up doing exactly as planned.

The observatory is bigger and better than you could’ve ever imagined. You can’t help but run around the place like a toddler. Caleb follows you around every nook and cranny with no complaints.

Then you check out his building. As expected from Mr. popular, you bump into a lot of Caleb’s friends there. By a lot, you mean one out of three people.

“Hey Caleb!” Another group of people greet him as you walk through the main hall. Two girls and a guy.

They eye you over curiously as Caleb answers. “Hey Cassie, Gwen, Mike.”

“Finally got yourself a girlfriend?” The blonde girl blatantly asks as the two of you pass by them.

Caleb looks back to reply. “She’s my sister.”

“My bad!” She replies sheepishly and shares a glance with her friends. They burst into laughter in the distance.

The two of you then visit the sports facility, Caleb’s favorite library, then have lunch at his favorite Chinese restaurant near campus.

You’re about to dig into your fried rice when the owner greets Caleb brightly.

“Caleb! I see you bought over your sister.”

Not surprisingly, the Chinese lady seems very fond of Caleb.

“Hey Amy. Yeah, this is Y/N.” Caleb smiles brightly and replies.

“Hey Y/N. I’ve heard so much about you,” She shakes your hand excitedly. You try to match her enthusiasm and nod back. “ You have no idea how excited he was that you were coming here for university! And you’re even prettier than the pictures Caleb showed me! He has a folder full of-“

Caleb hurriedly interrupts the excited owner. “Amy!” You notice that his ears are red. “Don’t compliment her too much. Her head’s already big enough.”

“Hey!” You protest. “What? No it’s not?”

The owner chuckles as she watches the two of you bicker. “Brothers.” She says as she winces her face and stares at you jokingly. “They just are something aren’t they?”

“Tell me about it.” You lock eyes with Caleb as you agree with a playful smirk on your face.

“I remember my brother used to tease me all the time when I was little. Thought he was annoying, but now I miss him the most. He’s back in China.” She sighs and explains as she brings out an extra side dish from the kitchen. “Here, this is on the house. Come by often Y/N okay?”

“Of course, thank you!” You smile and reply.

“Thanks Amy.” Caleb says with a warm smile. She affectionately pats Caleb on the shoulder before leaving.

The two of you start eating the food after she leaves.

“So.” You start. “You have a folder full of my photos?”

Caleb chokes on the soup he was drinking.

You pour a glass of water for him as he goes into a coughing fit.

After it dies down, his face is red from all the coughing.

“Of course not. It’s a folder full of family pictures.“

“Oh okay. Can I see?” You ask.

“…Eat your food first.” He replies.

“Fine.”

You suppress a smile as you decide to pester him again about it later.

You don’t know why, but the thought of him having a folder dedicated to your photos makes you kind of giddy inside.

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Orientation flies by in a beat. You meet a lot of new people in your major. Ice-breaking activities are awkward as usual, and the club fair was fun to visit.

After everything, you meet up with Caleb and return home together.

You’re about to have dinner when the door bell rings unexpectedly.

“I’ll get it!” You tell Caleb who’s busy cooking.

You open the door to find a pair of excited eyes looking down at you.

Scratch that. Five pairs of excited eyes, looking down at you.

“Oh my god! You’re Y/N!”

The girl in front squeals as she comes in with a sudden hug.

“We got lucky she opened the door!” ”She’s really here!”

The group talks excitedly and surrounds you like a mob.

Flabbergasted, you awkwardly reciprocate the hug and helplessly stumble backwards into the house.

“We’ve heard so much!” The girl pulls back and smiles at you. Her energy and blonde hair reminds you of a golden retriever. “I’m Jessica.”

“Seriously?“ Caleb emerges from the kitchen with a slightly annoyed expression.

“Caleb!” The group greets him excitedly.

“Didn’t I tell you guys not to come over?” Caleb huffs, a flipper in one hand.

He gives you a glance that asks if you’re okay with this.

You gesture with your hand and make an expression that it’s completely fine and he doesn’t need to worry.

“Come on dude,” a guy heads over to him and hands him a bottle of wine. “You seriously expected us to listen?”

Relax- he tells a protesting Caleb, and turns him around to take him back to the kitchen.

A few others follow suit.

You’re left facing Jessica and a tall guy with black hair. His clean cut and stoic demeanor leaves an impression.

“We’re close friends of Caleb.” Jessica explains as a matter of fact after looking at your dumbfounded expression. “This is Zayne. He’s my cousin.”

“Hey. Nice to meet you.” Zayne says. His blue eyes look down at you.

“Hey, I’m Y/N.” You answer back while shaking his hand.

“Caleb wouldn’t shut up about you coming to California. Naturally, we became invested as well. We were so excited. Then he tells us last minute that we can’t meet you? Like what’s up with that?” Jessica explains while rolling her eyes.

The three of you head to the kitchen.

You thank Zayne as he hands you a bottle of whiskey. You place it on the kitchen counter top.

You laugh at Jessica’s annoyed expression. “I guess he can be a little cryptic sometimes.”

“More like self centered.” Jessica scoffs.

“How did you guys meet Caleb?” You ask.

“Ethan, the guy over there-” Jessica points to a red haired guy talking excitedly to Caleb. “and I are in the same major as Caleb. We started having a movie night here at Caleb’s every other Friday. Ethan brought his flat mates,” she points to two girls and a guy talking in the kitchen corner, “and I brought Zayne… and it kinda became a weird mix.”

It feels weird to listen about a part of Caleb’s life that you didn’t know about. You guess he didn’t tell you completely everything.

Why didn’t he tell you everything?

“Sounds cool. Can I join next time?” You ask.

“Of course!” She answers like it’s the greatest thing she ever heard.

“I mean, you live here.” Zayne chuckles. “It’d be weird if you didn’t join.”

“Yeah, that’s why it’s so weird Caleb wanted to hide you for himself. Like, what?” Jessica says.

“What did I do?” Jessica jumps at Caleb’s sudden intrusion. Caleb stands next to her and stares at her accusingly with a playful smirk.

Jessica laughs awkwardly. “We were just talking about how great of a friend you are! Caleb.”

You notice that Jessica’s face is a notch redder. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and smoothens out her ends.

“Yeah. sure.” Caleb answers. He briefly glances at Zayne, then at you before looking away. “Anyway, there’s not enough food for all of us, so I’m thinking about ordering pizza. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect!” Jessica answers.

“Good.” Caleb answers. As he’s walking away to call the pizza place, Zayne joins him and murmurs that he’ll pay for the food. Caleb politely declines, but Zayne seems insistent.

You watch them move to the living room.

“Zayne should pay. He’s a popular psychiatrist. Makes more money in a single day than all of our yearly income.” Jessica explains to you.

“Oh really? How old is he? He looks too young to be a psychiatrist.”

Jessica laughs. “He’s 28. He’ll be happy if you tell him that.”

Another thing Caleb didn’t tell you.

Because you moved here for university, you had to find a new psychiatrist. You had asked Caleb if he knew any in the area. He had said no. Was it because Zayne was too popular to book anyway?

You decide to ask Zayne if he can squeeze in another reservation.

In the mean while, you follow Jessica’s lead to become familiar with the rest of Caleb’s friends.

You get caught up in their energy and end up drinking for the first time.

“Come on Caleb, you know how college is. She’s gonna end up drinking anyway sooner or later. It’s better she does it in front of you, and in your house.”

They convince a frustrated Caleb who’s almost about to go into a fit and confiscate your cranberry vodka mixed drink.

“Who knew he’d be such a buzzkill?” One of his friends secretly snickers and whispers into your ear.

As the night goes on, you realize that maybe Caleb was right.

You seemed like you could hold your alcohol. Heck, maybe even a better drinker than Caleb. You dared him to a drinking contest, to much of the glee of his friends. He declined but you drank on anyway. Turns out, you were the type to get secretly, severely drunk.

Before you realize it, you’re laughing and dancing and shouting slurred words.

Then you realize you’re leaning on Caleb as the world spins around you. The chatter of people around you seem distant and incomprehensible.

The next time you come to your senses, you’re being carried by Caleb somewhere. His warmth feels nice. You decide to keep up the sleeping act. You’re too tired to make a move anyway. You lie limp as he carefully lays you down on a bed-your bed. The surroundings seem quiet. Everyone must’ve gone home.

You hear his clothes rustle as he clears strands of hair off of your face. His touch is gentle.

Then he goes weirdly still. Or, that’s what you think because you don’t hear anything. Not even a faint breath.

It goes on for some time. You’re about to open your eyes to check what he’s doing, when you hear him finally move away from you.

He gently grabs your ankle and takes off your shoes. He stops just as he’s about to peel your socks off, as if he’s contemplating whether he should, and decides to go through with it.

He carefully rolls your socks off, sliding his calloused hands down your calves to your ankle. The way his entire hand covers your calves almost feels like a caress.

After he’s done with the second foot, he goes silent.

You think he’s going to get up and leave.

Instead, he grabs your left ankle slowly and carefully, like he’s afraid you might wake up.

You feel something against the top of your left foot. You wonder what it is until you feel strands of hair surround it.

It’s his forehead.

What is he doing? Why is he pressing his forehead against your foot? Sure you normally pride yourself in having feet that don’t stink, but still it mortifies you that he would do such a thing.

Then you feel it.

A long, warm, shaky breath on your toes.

It’s enough to make your head go blank.

Then you feel another, and another, until his breathing becomes loud and heavy and fills the room.

You hear him rustle, his head and hand still on your feet. You hear a zipper, fabric sliding down, and then a steady, repetitive sound along his gasps and suppressed moans.

It makes your body feel the same way you felt yesterday night. You feel hot, dizzy, and breathless. You don’t know what to quite name this feeling. You haven’t really felt like this your whole life.

It doesn’t last long.

With a low, quiet moan, Caleb goes silent.

After a few seconds you hear the rustling of his clothes and a zip going up again. He leaves the room in such a hurry that after he shuts the door, silence engulfs the room and you wonder if he really was in here at all.

Whether that really did just happen or you were imagining things.

Suddenly you feel very tired. You really don’t want to think about it now.

You decide to welcome the alcohol-induced sleep and fall into slumber.

The you of tomorrow will handle whatever this... was.

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Hope you guys enjoyed this!!!

Will try to update at least once a week :D

Likes and comments are life <3