#just got elbowed to the face and her glasses broke

[soldrawss]

*holds face tenderly*

[vzyee]

anyway i went to the mall ish with my sister today and we spent like an hour shopping for candles. Found these candles from a brand called rewined and were so so obsessed and just now i found out there was this big dramatic brand redesign two years ago that everyone is super pissed off about. price increases scent changes and apparently the candles used to come in recycled cropped wine bottles but the company wasnt able to meet their sustainability goals because they were selling faster than they could get used bottles from restaurants. which i learned from a snippy comment from a company rep to one of their wholesalers on this third party wholesaler platform.. all of this is so delightful and new to me. Just the word wholesaler

[loeyparker]

safe - e.m. 1/3

summary: you and eddie see eachother for the first time after you broke the friendship to protect him from the upside down

pairing: eddie munson x f!reader

word count: 4.7k

warnings: mentions of drugs, strong language, mentions of violence, throwing things

tags: no s4 spoilers, friends to enemies to lovers-ish, angst

a/n: i would die for each and everyone of u who supported this, no joke

(  NEXT CHAPTER  )

Eddie Munson sat on a lounge chair by the pool, unlit cigarette hanging by the corner of his mouth. His metal lunchbox stood by his boots, on the stoned ground. His right leg bounced up and down with quickness, his fingers fiddled with the rings on his right hand.

Strands of uncombed, curly hair fell in his face, covering a portion of his darkened eyes. He sat slouched, elbows resting on his knees.

His eyes were locked on the crowd inside the house, which could be clearly seen through the glass double doors leading to the pool.

“Man, what you dressed as?” A dull voice drew out, approaching the boy.

Eddie pursed his lips in annoyance.

From inside the house, Michael Jackson’s Beat It played loudly and unforgiving of the neighbors who might had been trying to sleep.

“Just a guy on business, man. You want something?” Eddie monotonously asked, already bored of the entire ordeal. While he was used to parties, used to the motions of attending them just to sell his stuff for an easy buck, on that particular night Eddie was annoyed.

“Yeah, lemme see how much cash I got. Hold on.”

Eddie wasn’t sure what had annoyed him exactly.

Maybe it was the simple fact that he was attending a party of ’85 graduates – he was supposed to be one of them, but fate wanted him to go through the motions of senior year for three years in a row instead of two.

Or, maybe, it was the call he’d gotten a few hours prior from The Hideout’s management, canceling his band’s performance of the week for another stupid event. It wasn’t as if missing a week of performing would realistically damage his band in any way, but Eddie hated when his plans were derailed.

But truthfully, what had annoyed Eddie Munson the most that night was seeing you in the crowd of the party, dancing to Michael Jackson with Steve Harrington – and Robin Buckley, but Eddie honestly hadn’t seen her.

Eddie grabbed his stash, opening the box with a screech of the rusted metal. “The ounce is 50.” He spoke, glancing at the jock ahead of him.

“Ah, man. How much is half?”

“25.” Eddie sniffled, the cold of the night getting to him.

As the jock dug around his pockets more, Eddie found his eyes drifting back to the crowd – back to you.

Despite there being about ten other people crammed around you, Eddie’s eyes found your shape with ease and quickness. But, to Eddie’s defense, it was hard not to spot you.

A strapped white dress laid tight over your body, its satin fabric shining slightly in the lights of the living room. A diamond diadem was on top of your head, over the now straight locks of hair. From the crown of your head, blood traced over the sides of your face, past your nose and over your lips, all the way down your neck. Some trickles of blood went into your exposed cleavage, others stained over your dress completely.

Eddie knew immediately that you were dressed as Carrie.

His eyes could only seem to focus on the way your hips swayed to the music, on your hair wildly flailing around as you moved, on the way you leaned with each beat.

Beat it, and you were leaning backwards, head thrown back, neck on display – Steve Harrington leaning forward and closer to you.

Beat it, and you leaned forward, chest down, shoulders moving, lower lip in-between your teeth, biting back a smile – Steve leaned backwards, head thrown as he laughed.

Beat it, and you leaned back again, this time laughing. It seemed as if you and Steve had an entire routine down, and Eddie couldn’t help but scoff. The way you danced was effortless and mesmerizing – but Eddie expected no less, especially since he’d seen you dance in his trailer countless times before. You had also been a cheerleader in high school, so it was not surprising that your moves managed to get the attention of everyone in the vicinity.

His eyes met yours after you’d been spun by Robin and it felt like the world ceased to spin for a moment. The song faded from both your ears, Eddie couldn’t hear the jock trying to buy half an ounce from him, you couldn’t feel Tina bumping into you on the dance floor.

Eddie wore a black hoodie with a jean vest on top. His bangs covered a portion of his eyes, along with a couple of loose strands falling out of the hood. He was brooding and he was far from you, but when your eyes met it felt as if he was breathing down your neck. Your chest tightened, your knees buckled and he didn’t tear his gaze away from you.

Sweet Dreams began playing throughout the house, its imposing bass bringing your feet back on the ground.

With his eyes on you, Eddie then rose his left hand to his shoulder, tapping it lightly with his index finger. Instinctively, you touched your own right shoulder, feeling it too bare, all of a sudden. With your thumb resting on your collar bone and the rest of your fingers gently brushing over the exposed shoulder, you realized the strap of your dress had slipped down.

Eddie smirked – a small, almost unnoticeable movement of his mouth and yet, a motion that made the apples of your cheeks to grow slightly hotter. Quickly, you pulled your dress back up, broke eye contact with Eddie and pushed your way out of the dance floor and towards the kitchen – you were in desperate need of a drink.

Steve Harrington followed you.

“Got the money, man?” Eddie mumbled, the cigarette pressing against his lips. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled a beat-up lighter and lit his cigarette. The lighter clanked when he shut its lid.

“Yeah, yeah, right here.” The jock handed Eddie two bills – a 20 and a 5. Eddie shoved them in his pocket, then handed the blond guy a bag, no words exchanged. “Thanks, man.” The bag was snatched out of the metalhead’s hand, and the jock disappeared back inside the house.

Eddie rubbed a hand over his face, cigarette butt between his fingers. The smoke veiled his nose and burnt the back of his throat, but he didn’t mind it. He was used to it – loved it. Glancing at his watch, he tried to justify his sudden need to leave the party. He’d only been there for half an hour; it was crazy that he was already bored.

But maybe seeing you with Harrington was enough to push him over the edge.

Deep in thought, hand over his face, Eddie didn’t hear heels clanking against the pavement, approaching him with determination.

“You okay?” Your voice made him freeze. Ash from his cigarette hit the ground and he could feel his heart beats making the veins in his neck pump harder. His hard trailed down his neck as he supported his head, glancing up at you.

He scoffed. “Yeah, just, uh,” he trailed off, a bitter smile on his lips. A short sizzling sound filled the air as he took a drag out of his cigarette, blowing smoke up in the air.

“What?” Your lips parted and a chill ran down your spine. The October air was unkind to your Halloween attire, but you refused to go back inside.

Eddie raised his eyebrows comically, the corners of his mouth turned down, he shrugged. With a head shake, he looked away from you. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He finally asked, tone condescending.

“I come with a peace offering.” You smiled softly, holding up two cans of Eddie’s favorite beer. Again, he puffed and looked away from you in disbelief. The beer was an olive branch he was unsure of grabbing, especially after what happened the last time you two spoke.

“Thought you wanted me to leave you alone.” His voice was stoic, low.

You pursed your lips, taking a slow step closer to him. “I’m sorry, I was…” you switched your weight from one foot to the other. “I was young, and stupid, and,”

“Power hungry?” Eddie bit back. “Conformist? Fake?”

You looked away, eyes pointed towards the starry sky. There was a hollow feeling in your chest, only becoming deeper as Eddie spoke. You didn’t blame Eddie for viewing you that way. From his point of view, you stopped being his friend soon after making the cheer team and becoming friends with Steve Harrington and the popular crowd.  

You went from hanging out on a daily basis, to Eddie not seeing you for almost a month. You had stopped answering his calls and he was sick of your mom answering the phone and telling him some phony excuse – oh, Eddie, darling; she’s at Nancy’s, you just missed her. She’s at the Byers, poor them. She’s got cheer practice today, won’t be home ‘till late.

He was sick of it, especially because he knew it was all bullshit.

On the day you were supposed to be at practice, he saw you in town buying bear traps with Jonathan Byers and Nancy Wheeler. When he was told you were at Nancy’s, he saw you in Byers’ car late at night, driving through the town.

And then school was closed for a week due to a gas leak, and you had dropped off the face of the Earth. He sometimes drove past your house in the hope of seeing you, but your curtains were always shut, light never on. Unbeknown to him, you had spent the entire week either by Will’s side at the hospital, or with Mike, who was upset over Eleven “dying”. Being Will’s babysitter, you felt personally responsible for the boy’s disappearance. You had been with Eddie that night, at a concert in Indianapolis – how could you not feel guilty?

But Eddie didn’t know any of that, and you decided you were never going to tell him. The Upside Down, the government’s involvement – it was all too much, too dangerous. Unmarked cars had followed you for a month after the entire ordeal, secret agents watching your every move.

And you couldn’t have Eddie involved in all that.

So, you avoided him for as long as possible. You started sitting at the jock’s table with Steve and Nancy, your spot at his table remaining empty. Jonathan started driving you to school and you spent your free time in the library or at practice. You avoided his eyes at lunch and turned from him in the hallways.

You called him a freak and told him to leave you alone on the day he tried to confront you about your behavior.

“The fuck is up with you?” Eddie frowned, letting go of your arm. You backed away, heart racing.

“I just think we should just focus on our social groups and status.” You spoke after taking a deep breath. “We’re different people now, we’re not kids anymore.”

“You wanna stop being friends, is that it?” Eddie frowned, rising up to his feet. He towered over you with ease, and you straightened your back, keeping his gaze.

“Yes.”

Both your stomachs dropped at your words.

Your nose and throat stung as you watched Eddie’s gaze turn sour, his lips settling into a scowl. He had never looked at you like that, in all the years of knowing you. In his eyes, in that moment, you saw nothing but disgust.

“Fine.” He had simply said.

You gave him a sharp nod and quickly turned around, eyes focused on Jonathan waiting for you in his car. He had seen the entire interaction and watched you with concerned eyes – but he also understood. “Don’t think for one fuckin’ second I would want to be friends with the new mean, popular conformist sheep of Hawkins High, anyway!” Eddie yelled after you, his voice becoming higher and croaky.

You got into Jonathan’s car without sparing Eddie another glance, and tears spewed down your cheeks the moment you were out of the school’s parking lot.

You had managed to last two years without talking to Eddie.

Two years during which your anxiety worsened, your popularity increased and the Upside Down became more threatening.

“Yeah,” You gave a weak chuckle, eyes back on Eddie. “I guess.” Music still blared from inside. You could only focus on the way the pool lights danced over his features. He had matured since the last time you’d seen him up-close. His jaw was more defined, cheeks more sculpted.

A moment of silence passed between you two as he took another drag. There was a slit in your dress, he noticed. It allowed his eyes to wonder up your barely exposed thigh – and you watched him look.

“What changed?” He asked, eyes snapping up at yours.

The gate closed, you thought. And you missed him. But, quite frankly, you were also exhausted. Exhausted of running away from your feelings for the boy and from the anxieties of your new reality and you needed an escape.

“Suddenly gained back consciousness?” Eddie continued – which actually pissed you off. He was condescending and mean and yeah, you might have hurt him two years ago, but you did it to save him. You saved him and you suffered and he thought you were some mean, brainwashed girl.

And in that moment, your exhaustion and stubbornness overpowered your lingering feelings for your once best friend. You placed the beer cans on a small glass table by the chairs. Your arms folded to your chest, fake blood smearing off your hands and onto the white, satin dress. “I wanna buy.” You spoke, clearing your voice. “Not weed, something stronger.”

Eddie frowned.

Bending forward, he pushed the cigarette into the ground, putting it out. “No.” He spoke, looking up at you through his fringe.

Your eyes widened slightly, lips parted. “What?”

“I’m not selling you shit.”

A bitter laugh left your mouth. Your tongue ran over your bottom lip and Eddie watched your every move. “Wow, you hate me that much, huh? Did I hurt your ego so bad that you can’t let go of a fight two years later?”

With a sharp move, Eddie got up on his feet.

He towered over you with ease, despite the heels on your feet. His eyes were stoic, harsh. One step, and his chest almost touched yours. Your feet remained plastered on the ground, not being intimidated by the man in the slightest.

On the contrary, you were comforted.

His presence was something you had missed, his proximity craved. Having his cologne and smoky breath filling your senses once more was a high you didn’t know you longed for until then.

“Do you even know me, at all?” Eddie whispered, eyes studying your face. Since last seeing you, a scar appeared on the left side of your temple, your eyes darkened. Your lips got plumper, your perfume sweeter.

“Better than I know myself.” You replied, chest rising up and down with more intensity.

Eddie tutted, shaking his head. “I don’t think you do.” His tongue ran over his lips. “I think you have me confused for Harrington.” He spat, bitterly. And then his right hand cupped your face, thumb and index finger pressing into your cheeks, holding your face in place. You tried to move in annoyance, but he didn’t let you. “If I hated you, I would’ve taken you to my place, sold you my strongest shit for easy cash. But I don’t hate you, do I?” His fingers pressed harder, eyes stuck on yours. “That’s the problem, Y/L/N. I don’t hate you.” He let go of your face with quickness, taking a step back.

He bent down to pick up his lunchbox as you took in a deep breath.

“I need the drugs, Eddie.” You pleaded, watching his every move. “Don’t make me beg.”

Eddie sucked in a deep breath. “Go back to the party, Y/N.” He walked past you without a second glance, and you found yourself reaching out for him. Upon the contact he paused, back turned to you.

“Just this once, and then you’ll never see me again. Please.”

“I can’t.”

You let go of his arm, taking a step back. “Great.” You laughed bitterly. “Great. You won’t take my beer, won’t sell me drugs…I’m out of options here.”

“Y/N, what’s this about?” Eddie frowned, turning to you once again.

You laughed.

He grew worried.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, the movement exaggerated, comical even. Your arms flailed sideways, then met in a clap. “I guess I just need something to fill the big, black hole in my chest.” You laughed again, finding the situation genuinely funny. "Drugs seem like the only option at this point, and you have 'em!"

Eddie, on the other hand, was worried. He’d never seen you like that. And while you hurt him deeply two years prior, he couldn’t stop caring about you. No matter what he did, you were always on his mind and part of him always believed you’d return to him.

He just never thought it’d be like this.

“Wanna come with me?” He found himself asking. He couldn’t tell if you were drunk, or high on something – or genuinely upset. He just knew you couldn’t be left alone in that moment.

You took his hand with no hesitation, and he walked you to his van.

Inside, you almost sunk into the seat. You had spent so much time in that seat before, that just being inside Eddie’s van felt like home. Tears stung your eyes as Eddie revved the ignition, and so you had to turn away.

Eddie didn’t know what to say.

He just couldn’t believe you were in his van again, and you were wearing the prettiest dress in the world, looking breathtakingly gorgeous.

"Sorry I'm acting crazy." You mumbled, eyes on the view outside. "I'm just a little bit overwhelmed, you know? Still mentally stuck at Starcourt."

Eddie pursed his lips. He also felt stuck there, to some extent.

Eddie had been close to the mall that night, dealing out of his van to some jock.

He watched as three firetrucks rode by, followed by around five or six ambulances. He saw the helicopters in the sky and the large, army-looking trucks passing just moments after the emergency vehicles. The jock ran to his own car and drove off, scared by the commotion, by the army presence and the weed in his possession.

Eddie, on the other hand, followed the vehicles out of nothing but morbid curiosity because – what now? What could cause such a scene in the small, quiet Hawkins, less than a year after the disappearance of the century?

Arriving at Starcourt, he couldn’t believe his eyes.

The large mall stood burning, covered in the flashing lights of emergency vehicles. There were soldiers surrounding the outskirts of the place, with firemen and paramedics rushing among them. 

He saw Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers getting into an ambulance, he saw a bloodied Steve Harrington clutching a blanket over his shoulders, protectively standing by someone’s side – by your side, more specifically.

You were sitting in an ambulance, feet dangling over the wet ground. Eddie remembers the feeling in his chest, the hollowness and panic that overcame him at your sight. A paramedic was checking your wounds, another placed a deep blue blanket over your shoulders. Eddie left his van with quickness, feet carrying him towards you mindlessly. His hair was dampening in the rain, his socks got wet as his sneakers stepped into puddles.

He couldn't understand what you were doing there, couldn't understand how you sustained your injuries. You looked like hell - exhausted and covered in blood.

Eddie was desperate to get to you that night, but two soldiers stopped him before he could get close. And all he could do was watch as you spoke to Joyce Byers, then burst into tears. Steve wrapped his arms around you in an instant, and you sobbed into his shoulder, hands clutching onto his shirt.

The sounds of your sobs along with the sirens and the helicopters flying up above were sounds that hunted Eddie to this day.

Back in the van with you by his side, Eddie sighed. "I get it." Was all he could mutter. "It's okay to act crazy sometimes, though." He added after a brief moment of silence.

"Is it?"

"Hell yeah. It releases tension." The boy glanced at you quickly, eyes meeting once again. He felt short of breath. "I act crazy all the time, and aren't I carefree?" Eddie joked further.

You puffed. "Very carefree." Eddie nodded. "Never angry."

"Never." He frowned jokingly, looking at you again.

You smiled.

"I might be biased, though." He spoke back up, not looking away from you. The van had stopped at a red light, so he could focus on you entirely. "You know how attracted I am to craziness."

Pursing your glossy lips, you looked down at your lap. A blush threatened to form on your cheeks as you felt Eddie's gaze on you. Time had caused you to forget just how intoxicating his gaze was, and now that you had it once again, you felt strange. Nervous.

Giddy almost.

“Do you still listen to Blondie?” He changed the subject when the light turned green.

“Yeah.” You quickly cleared your throat before turning to Eddie. “But, can I tell you a secret?” You asked, biting your lip.

Eddie glanced at you quickly, before looking back at the road. “Of course.”

“I started listening to Black Sabbath, too.”

Eddie almost crashed the car into a couple of trashcans on the side of the road. “You did not!” He exclaimed, wide eyes looking at you.

You laughed. “I did!”

“And?” He drew out, expectantly.

“And they’re not half bad.”

Eddie drummed his hands on the wheel, causing your grin to widen. He was also smiling and for a moment, it was as if nothing bad had happened between you. “Not half bad?” He exclaimed theatrically. “They’re one of the greatest bands of our generation!”

“Eh, they’re no Beatles.” You teased, head leaning back into the seat, eyes on Eddie.

“I’ll crash the car right now.” He joked, making you laugh. And he couldn’t help but allow his eyes to linger on you for a second too long because man, you were pretty. And his heart only ached, knowing that you were probably in love with Harrington and you had only talked to Eddie to get drugs.

His mood soured at the thought and he was suddenly glad your house was close to Tina’s. The drive from the party to your home hadn’t taken longer than ten minutes, and he decided this would be the last time he’d be in your vicinity. Because within ten minutes, you managed to have him wrapped around your finger again and he knew – he knew that once you sobered up the next day, you’d go back to your pristine life and forget about him again.

He couldn’t go through senior year again, again and again. It was enough that he had to repeat the damn year at school, he didn’t wanna do it emotionally as well.

"Why are we at my house?" You asked, confused.

Eddie sighed. "You're upset, and messed up. I couldn’t exactly leave you at the party.” He gripped the steering wheel as he pulled onto your driveway – something he used to do so often long before.

“Wow, thanks.” You snapped, then opened the door.

Eddie was quick to lean over you, shutting the door back up. “What the fuck?” You retorted, feeling his chest against your thighs.

“Why did you come up to me tonight?” He asked, sitting back in his spot. “Was it really just for drugs? I have to know.”

“Maybe I missed you.”

“That’s bullshit.” He puffed, rolling his eyes.

“What? Is that so hard to believe?” Your voice rose slightly.

“Uh, yeah, since you were the one who dumped me!”

“I didn’t dump you!” You grabbed a cassette off his dashboard, chucking it at the man. He dodged with ease.

“You threw me to the curb because, what? You found out Harrington was better? Popularity tasted better than being associated with the freak?” His voice boomed.  

“Steve has nothing to do with this!”

Eddie laughed bitterly. “Right, go ahead, defend him.”

“You’re such an asshole.” You scoffed. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am messed up, since I thought talking to you would be a good idea.” And again, you turned towards the door.

“That’s right, go. Run, as always.”

Your hand froze on the handle as anger bubbled in your chest. “For the record, I don’t run. I never ran from anything in my life.”

“Yeah, only from one thing.”

It seemed as if Eddie had a firing shot for everything you said – and he did. Because the fight had been brewing for two years, along with the tension caused by unspoken words. There were many things on Eddie Munson’s mind, and he wanted to say them all. “From me.”

Another cassette flew his way.

“I didn’t run from you! I saved you!” You shouted, angry.

“From what? Having to attend your cheer competitions? Meeting your popular friends?” He shouted back, equally angry.

“Oh my God! There’s more to life than high school shit! This isn’t about social status, you asshole! I saved your fuckin’ life!” Another cassette. “Saved you from death!” Another cassette was in the air, when Eddie grabbed both your wrists into his hands.

“What are you talking about?” His face was inches from you, hair unruly from the hood that had slipped off.

The cassette fell out of your hand and onto his lap.

“I don’t wanna fight you, okay?” Your voice became quiet all of a sudden – yet, your chest still moved with quickness. “You gotta understand that all I wanted was for you to be safe.”

“Safe from what?” His hands then let go of your wrists, instead moving to hold your face, thumbs resting by the corners of your mouth. With free hands, you placed them over his wrists, overwhelmed by the proximity. "Talk to me, Y/N. Just for once, talk."

“From bad stuff, okay? Safe from life threatening stuff.”

“You’re involved in life threatening stuff?” His thumbs gently went over your bottom lip as you nodded. “You don’t have to protect me, Indiana Jones.” You let out a short laugh at his nickname, causing the inkling of a smile to thug at his own lips. “If you’re involved, I’m simply involved by association. There’s no you without me, remember? And vice versa.”

You shook your head. “Not with this. I can handle myself, but you’re just a nerd with a guitar.” You joked, sly smile on your lips.

He chuckled. “And you’re a dancer with pompons.” His eyes moved from your eyes to your lips, then back up.

“Who kicks ass.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Oh, you do?”

“Mhm. I’m sort of a…Wonder Woman out in the field.”

The right corner of his mouth turned upwards. His thumbs still stroked over your lips, pressing onto them ever so slightly. His eyes, as they traced your features, landed on a scar that stood on the left side of your temple. It had yet to heal and suddenly, Eddie felt the hidden heaviness of your words.

His mind flashed back to Starcourt, then to Hopper’s funeral for a brief moment, and he remembered the bandages on your right arm, the busted lip, the bruises and scars on your face. Most had healed by Halloween, but they still lingered on his mind.

“Tell me what’s going on.” He asked.

You shook your head, hands leaving his wrists.

“Please, I wanna help.”

You shook your head again, pulling away from his touch.

“Who hurt you last summer?” Eddie asked as his hands fell off your face.

“I can’t, Eddie.” Your voice cracked as you opened the passenger’s door. “Just, forget we talked.” You spoke as you left his van, rushing up the stairs to your house, without sparing him another glance.

And Eddie could only sit and watch you run from him again, just as you had done two years prior, after breaking your friendship.

Only this time, Eddie wasn’t going to let you go.

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (7/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Having a movie night is a good way to spend the evening with your roommate. If it were not for the wine that loosens the mouth.

Warnings: TENSION, FLIRTING (you've been warned), alcohol consumption, a Charles picture (badly edited), Cars (movie)

Word Count: 3k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: I'm sitting here like a fourteen year old whose crush admitted to liking her. that's how I'm feeling about this chapter. feedback is appreciated!

"You're kidding me."

"I would never."

Charles sets his wine glass on the coffee table as you clutch yours, though there's not a sip left in it. "How have you made it through life so far?"

You shrug. Charles looks at you with a look like you kicked a dog and insulted his mother. "I never got around to it."

That's only half the truth. Since you moved out of your parents' house, you'd actually had plenty of time to catch up on that sort of thing. But at some point you had decided for yourself that it was too late to get into it in your early twenties, when you should theoretically be out of it.

Apparently Charles doesn't see it that way. He reaches for the remote control and presses a few buttons until first a castle and then a bouncing lamp appear on the television in front of you. He then presses the stop button and turns back to you. "Get comfortable, because you're not getting off this couch again until we're done here." He places the bowl of popcorn between you on the couch. "And if you fall asleep, you'll have to watch the movie again."

You pour yourself some more wine and take a big gulp. As some of it runs out of the corner of your mouth, you wipe it away with the back of your hand. "Aren't we too old for this?"

Charles raises an eyebrow before pressing the play button. The screen goes black and you hear someone take a deep breath in and out before an off-screen voice says okay, here we go. focus. The grin on your roommate's face grows so wide it almost touches an ear. Speed. I am speed.

"You're never too old for Cars."

Apparently Charles not only works in the car industry, but is obsessed with cars. And even more so with this film. 

Out of the corner of your eye you can see that he is silently moving his mouth to speak along with every single character while you sit next to it, eating popcorn and drinking your wine. 

The beginning of the film doesn't particularly captivate you. An arrogant car with no team spirit as the protagonist. For sure he would make friends in the course of the film and appreciate them and then he wins his race. Very predictable. Even for a children's film. 

All you have to do now is stand there and let me look at you, Lightning McQueen says to the Porsche and you cringe.

"Wow, that's hardly bearable." You put a piece of popcorn between your teeth and wash it down with a gulp of wine. 

Charles, who has slid down a little further on the couch, looks at you. "Lightning or the whole movie?" He reaches for his glass on the table. 

You spread your index finger from the glass and point it at the screen. "Lightning. That was so slimy. Like anyone would fall for that." As Sally embarrasses the hell out of the red speedster, you thrust your fist into the air enthusiastically. 

Charles laughs. "So you're not into that sort of thing to seduce you?" He sips his wine, you shake your head. He props himself up on the seat with one elbow, resting his head in his hand, and stretches his legs out in your direction so that he's almost completely on the couch. He dangles the wine glass casually in his free hand. The film pauses. "How else can you be seduced?"

If you hadn't caught the phone call this lunchtime and the conversation with Joris, both of which involved a woman, you might think that Charles is flirting with you. That maybe he sees more in you than his roommate and friend. And if your ex-boyfriend hadn't spoiled your mood before - or generally not crossed your life - you'd go for it, too. 

You glance at Charles. He has taken off his jumper sometime after the second glass of wine and thrown it towards the dining table chair, so that he is lying next to you in his shirt. The strands of his hair stand on end after running his hand through them several times and his cheeks are slightly flushed. His green and otherwise alert eyes seem a little misty, almost certainly due to the alcohol. 

And his smile. God, his smile is so crooked and beautiful and his dimples give him something childishly cheeky that makes your heart beat a beat faster. 

Is he cute?, you hear Vicky's voice in the back of your mind. 

Damn cute, even. 

'Definitely not like that,' you finally answer his question, lowering your gaze towards your wine glass. If your mind is already drifting like this, maybe you should stop drinking. 

"How then?", Charles asks, his eyes fixed on you. 

Unsure, you look at him. "Why do you want to know?" Inwardly, you command your heart to give it a rest. Just because he asks doesn't mean he needs the knowledge for himself.

"Well, maybe one day a guy will come along who doesn't know how to approach you. And then I can give him a hint, if you want," he explains with a shrug, before taking a big sip of his wine and emptying his glass. 

You try not to let on how much his answer hits you. Somehow you hoped he would want to know that for himself, in case he decided to approach you at some point. But apparently you haven't been listening to Charles properly for the last few hours. 

That's what friends are for, after all. 

You're my friend. 

For not being a good friend to you. 

And friends who live together fight in between. 

Inwardly you slap your forehead with your palm. The wine is definitely to blame for your thoughts. 

"When you remember little things," you finally answer Charles' question and set your glass down on the table, which Charles seems to take as an invitation to top up, and before you can do anything about it he has refilled your glass. 

"Little things?" Charles lies back in his comfortable position and eyes you. 

You nod. "Yes. Like the fact that I think peonies are much prettier than roses, or that I prefer muffins to cupcakes. Little things like that, that define me." You shrug. "It just shows that the person has been paying attention and cared about me."

Charles nods, and you think he glances briefly at your almost empty wine bottle before reaching for the remote again. "Good to know."

The film continues and you decide that little blue Guido is your favourite character. As Lightning McQueen pulls yellow Betsy across the road and chats to Luigi and Guido, you raise your eyebrows in surprise. 

"Kind of strange to hear Formula One mentioned."

You notice Charles stiffen beside you, but his gaze remains forward. "Why?"

You reach - despite your brain vehemently telling you not to - for your glass. "Well, it's an animated film and the fact that Formula One is mentioned makes it kind of real. Although it's not. You know what I mean?"

"Do you watch Formula One, then?" asks Charles a counter-question, without answering yours. By now he is looking at you, but you can't interpret the expression on his face.

As you shake your head, he seems to relax a little. For whatever reason. "No. I used to watch it with my grandfather. Back when Michael Schumacher drove for Ferrari. We watched every race and cheered for the red team." You take a sip. "I lost sight of it at some point."

"Do you think you'd still be a Ferrari fan now if you'd stuck with it?" your roommate asks. Why he's so interested in it, you don't know. 

You point to the two Ferrari fans from Cars and smile. "Isn't everyone a Ferrari fan somehow? Even if they're not?" You turn back to the film and continue sipping your wine. 

Which is definitely not the best idea, because it seems to cloud your thoughts and loosen your mouth, because when Lightning decides to help Radiator Springs, it just bursts out of you. "Lightning is hot."

Charles, who has just taken a sip, chokes and nearly coughs his guts out. When he has calmed down, he looks at you, distraught. "Excuse me?"

"Yeeeees." You turn a little in his direction and pull your legs to your chest. You're sitting opposite each other now, except that Charles is lying down. "Not so 'wow, I'd like to fuck him'-hot. But his vibe makes him hot."

Charles wiggles his eyebrows. "I was once told I looked like him."

You have to laugh out loud, and you reach into the popcorn bowl once and throw it at him, laughing. He's not that quick to open his mouth to catch the pieces, but he gathers them up off his shirt and puts them between his teeth, grinning. 

"Why are you laughing like that? Someone actually said that once! Don't you believe me?"

You realise that the wine has gone to your head, because you can hardly stop laughing. You can hardly breathe and tears spring to your eyes, which you wipe away with the hem of your jumper. Your stomach hurts and you force yourself to breathe in and out deeply. "No, I believe you. But Lightning is just hot, and you're cute. There's a difference between the two."

Your sober self, which is napping somewhere deep in your brain, startles from its slumber and would love to slap you for it. 

Charles cheeks turn even redder and somehow the hem of his shirt seems very interesting because he rubs it between his thumb and forefinger before looking at you. "So you think I'm cute?"

This time he is quicker and catches the piece of popcorn you throw in his direction with his mouth and chews on it with relish. "Oh, come on. I'm definitely not the first one to say that to you," you try to somehow talk your way out of it. "I'm probably just the first to say that without flirting with you. My statement is to be considered purely objective."

"Objective, then?" He sits up a little straighter. "What would it look like if you were flirting?"

You put your wine glass down on the table and decide to actually let it go for today. You've definitely said too much, which you'd almost certainly regret tomorrow, and just thinking about how weird things might get in the morning makes your blood rush to your ears. So you reach for the popcorn. "I'm not doing that to you."

Your roommate raises an eyebrow in confusion. "Why? Are you that bad?" he quips.

You shake your head playfully. "On the contrary. I'm so good at it, you'd fall in love with me instantly," you joke, and have to grin, but Charles doesn't return it. 

"Don't worry," he replies without taking his eyes off you. "It takes more than that to make me fall head over heels in love with someone."

You'd love to ask what exactly it takes, but why should you care? You're friends, he's made that clear. And you should definitely get it through your head. In your drunken estimation, the line of friendship you're walking right now is clearly too narrow for your liking. 

You purse your lips and watch the film in silence. The mood has changed, no longer as easy-going as it was a few minutes ago. You would like to say something, but you don't know what, so you sit still. 

When you reach the point in the film where Lightning pushes the King across the finish line - against your expectations - to finish third in the Piston Cup, you can't stop the sob that leaves your mouth. Out of the corner of your eye you see Charles looking at you. And then all the dams break.

"How can a film about cars - about cars, Charles - make me cry like this?" You wipe away your tears. "This isn't normal. What's the point? It's a movie for kids, for fuck's sake."

Charles' smile is gentle. "No swear words, please. The film is my favourite."

"The film is first class." You try to breathe but hiccup as a result and Charles has to laugh slightly. "Oh, shit. Do kids even understand how important the message is? That it doesn't matter if you win or not as long as you do the right thing and have your friends around you?" 

"There are two more parts, by the way. We can watch those too if you like," Charles suggests and he looks a little offended when you shake your head and get up from the couch. 

"Let me process this movie first and then we'll see." You grab the empty wine bottles and glasses to take them to the kitchen. Charles grabs the bowls and you put the dishes in the sink. Neither of you would manage to wash them properly yet and with a single glance you silently agree to clean up the rest of the living room in the morning. 

You go together to the bathroom where you get ready for bed. You are brushing your teeth when your gaze catches his in the mirror. You smile at him. "But I would love to watch the films with you. I had a lovely evening, if that wasn't clear." You spit some excess foam into the sink. "Thank you for that."

Charles sticks his thumb in the air and washes his mouth out before answering you. "Anytime." He places his toothbrush in his cup. "I haven't had this much fun watching a movie in ages." As he looks at you, his gaze goes through your skin and bones. "Thank you for forgiving me. I couldn't bear it if you were angry with me."

As he combs his hair with a brush - yours - you rinse out your mouth as well. It's so mundane the way the two of you get ready for bed next to each other, as if you've grown up together and not as if you've only known each other for exactly one day. This familiarity between you should feel strange, but you have to admit yourself that nothing has ever felt better. 

"I don't think I can stay mad at you for long." You tie your hair into a braided pigtail, which takes a little longer than usual because of the wine. "I like you far too much for that."

You don't wait for his answer, but leave the bathroom, grabbing your camera and phone for a moment. "Do you have your AirDrop on?" you ask him. "So I can send you the photo."

"Oh, yeah. Hang on a sec." He rummages around among the cushions on the couch for a moment until he pulls out his phone and taps away on it. You look at your screen, and see "CL iPhone" flashing up. You press his name and the picture your camera automatically sent to the phone app is now sent to Charles. He looks at it for a moment. "I look so good."

"Don't get too carried away," you laugh and move towards the bedroom door while Charles gets his bedding from the wardrobe in the hall. You watch him for a moment as he gets his things ready. "Good night, Lightning."

His smile is so gentle you could melt. "Good night."

After closing the bedroom door behind you, you slip into your sleeping clothes and climb under your duvet. With your phone in your hand, you lie down on your side. You release the key lock and Charles' picture appears. 

He is right. He does look good in it. 

Just as you are about to plug your phone into the charger and put it away, a message pops up on the screen. 

CL iPhone would like to share a photo

Surprised, you click on "Accept". 

You giggle and think about sending a picture back, but don't. "You can sleep in your bed tomorrow," you shout across the flat and receive a "Thank you!"

Grinning, you snuggle into your pillow and force yourself not to stare at the picture he just sent you. It's almost cheeky how he can still look so good after such a long day and a bottle of wine. 

You put your phone next to your pillow and turn onto your back. To cope with this situation, you have to draw clearer lines. And lock away the thoughts that are running around in your head in between. 

You have a crazy ex. And there's something going on with Charles too, although you don't know what exactly. It definitely wouldn't be the right time for either of you to develop feelings for someone. And as often as he's referred to you as his friend, you want to spare yourself the shame of falling for someone who doesn't want you. 

You put your forearms over your face. 

You have known each other for twenty-four hours. How can someone be so etched in your mind after such a short time? 

You blame your emotional state on the wine, close your eyes and try to think of something else. Of cute penguins, puppies, sheep. But the thoughts circle and circle and always find their way back, as if they only know this way. 

Always back to Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles.

next part

[sinsandsweetness]

hi my love <3

do you think you could do a rick grimes fluff where it’s an established relationship where he’s got a short fuse for everyone else but her and he’s super soft and gentle to her

or rick with a sleepy reader who he just lets fall asleep on his lap as he strokes her hair when he’s in the middle of discussing something important with someone else

ok I'm currently painting my toenails baby pink and got me thinking about rickyl with hyperfeminine!reader. (I know u said rick but this is what my brain said so...enjoy?)

It’s way too late but you can’t really help that you’re a night owl. And besides, the boys are still up, lights on in the living room, the two of them talking strategy for some hoard the group has been tracking for a few weeks. The conversation seems really important so you don’t want to interrupt but you also can’t see all that well since your glasses broke on that run last week and you’ve yet to find any new ones… so you were really hoping someone would help you out.

With your bottle of nail polish in hand, you stand in the doorway, fighting an internal battle of if you should go in or not. So in doubt, you hover, putting a few dishes away in the kitchen. Grabbing some water. Checking the fridge. All while the glass bottle of pink polish becomes warm in your hand. Bare feet padding against the cool hardwood as you finally decide to just go back to bed. The safety of the community is undoubtably more important than your damn toes.

“You alright, angel?” Ricks voice is soft as it travels to your spot on the stairs, swiveling around to see both men eyeing you down. Gaze travveling up your bare legs to your tiny little boy shorts and the oversized sweater with a stretched out collar and way too many holes in it.

“Mhm.” You quip, flashing a candy sweet smile.

“You’re pacin’. What’s up?” Daryl isn’t convinced as he looks you in the eyes, elbows leaned onto his knees. Still in his work clothes. Jacket, vest and jeans. Even his boots are still laced up.

“I just-" you look down at your bare toes. All prepped for paint, cut and filed and screaming at you to give them some colour. “Can one of you help me paint my toes?”

The way both of their faces soften at your answer gives you butterflies. They’re always way too worried. Too on edge. Especially when it comes to you. Wanting to protect you. Keep you safe and healthy and happy. So that’s why when they notice you pacing in the kitchen at half past midnight, they jump to their own little conclusions about what might be wrong. About what could possibly be going on in that beautiful mind of yours.

“C’mhere.” Rick pats a hand on the couch cushion next to him which you happily take. Practically skipping over and plopping down, ass on the cushion and feet in his lap.

He takes the bottle and gives it a little shake before continuing his conversation with Daryl, who doesn’t seem to be listening as attentively as he was before. With you laying on the couch, long legs sprawled out and a sleepy smile on your pretty face, you’ve become quite the distraction.

Ricks hands are warm as he holds your feet, carefully painting each nail, all while he stays talking. You hear snippets like, “- well if we do that, then they’ll just be headed for Oceanside. We need to find a route that makes sense for everyone, even if it means-” but you aren’t really listening. You’re more focused on making heart eyes with Daryl and playing with a loose string on the hem of your sweater. Eyes growing heavy with each coat of paint. The intoxicating, chemical smell that you've weirdly enough grown to love, fills the room and your feet tickle when rick blows cool air on them. Closing the bottle and popping it back into your hand while he leans back and asks Daryl something off topic about a run with Aaron. thumb running over your foot, hand traveling up your calf and gently massaging the muscle there. You sink even further into the couch, all warm and tired and cozier then ever. The combination of Ricks touch sending tingles up your spine, and the drawl of both their voices, act in accordance to lull you right to sleep.

You know that even if you do fall asleep here on the couch, it's no big deal. They'd carry you to bed in a heartbeat. They have before. So you let your eyes flutter shut under the comforting fact that you’re sure to wake up in clean, warm covers with a man on either side of you and two big arms wrapped around your waist.

[toxicanonymity]

Fandango

2.1k / stepdad!Joel x fem!Reader /Stepdad

Warnings: I8+ mdni. Stepcest (reader is aggressor but he's a perv), big girthy age gap, groping, grinding, jacking off, oral m receiving, angst. Picks up after All Recipes. 🦃 Nothing has happened with the Mom, so ignore that hypothetical drabble.

When you get to the theater, Joel reaches over you to get his glasses out of the glovebox and the stretch of his shrunken sleeve makes you reach out and touch his ungodly tricep.  He ignores the touch, puts his glasses on, and puts the case back in the glovebox.  Inside, the manager changes the tickets for you.  You pick the back row, prompting a cautionary look from Joel. 

💙

Your Mom notices the casserole is off-recipe as soon as she looks at it, and she's not happy.  You glance sympathetically at Joel.  He resists the urge to bring up how she wouldn’t tell him where the recipes were, sparing you a tense car ride to Thanksgiving at your Aunt’s house.

In the car, your Mom asks, “Did you buy the movie tickets, Joel?” and you tell her you got them on Fandango.  It’s a tradition for the three of you to go to a movie on Thanksgiving, largely so you can have a set time to leave the family gathering, which will otherwise drag on forever. On the way to your aunt’s house, Your Mom wants a recap of the whole Hunger Games franchise since it’s been eight years since the last one came out in 2015. You do your best and Joel stays quiet.  She picked the movie. 

-

You and Joel haven’t talked at all since this morning when you kissed for the first time in the kitchen. He avoids you for most of the meal, but when he does look at you, he’s looking at you differently.  His eyes are pensive, concerned, but his brow is softer. It's like a puppy dog look.

An uncle asks if you’re seeing anyone, and you say “kind of.”  The corner of Joel’s mouth twitches.  When they press for more details, you tell them you might have a date this weekend and his face hardens.

“Is he handsome?” Your aunt asks. 

“I think the term is ‘hot’ now,” Your uncle corrects her.  “Is he hot? Can we see him?” He elbows Joel like he should get in on the teasing. Joel musters half a smile but it doesn't reach his eyes. 

You pull up your tinder match’s profile and let them take a peek.  

“Oooh,” your aunt says. “He is handsome.  Jacques. . . is he French?” 

Joel takes a sip of his drink, then glares out the window and chews his cheeks.  The glass in his hand shatters under the pressure of his fist, covering his shirt in iced tea and making two of your aunts spring into action to help. 

“Joel,” your Mom says.  “No, no,” the hosting aunt responds.  "These are too delicate. I just broke one the other day.” None of it got on the table.  Your aunts take him to the kitchen to clean him up.  Meanwhile, you try to explain to your uncle what tinder is.  Joel returns to the table wearing only his shrunken undershirt and pants, looking somewhat humiliated and smoking hot.

-

On the way to the movie theater, your Mom gets an emergency call, and Joel suggests rescheduling for a later time so she can come, but she isn’t sure when she’ll be available.  You already have the tickets, and she insists the two of you drop her off at home and go ahead without her. She’ll join if she can.  Joel looks distressed at the prospect of going alone with you. 

"Kiss and make up already," your Mom says on her way out of the car, referring to the argument she walked in on earlier about his shrunken clothes. 

When you move up to the driver’s seat, he says “Don’t get any ideas.”  

“We should see the new Exorcist instead,” you say. 

“What if she tries to join?”

“She’s not going to.” He knows you’re right. “Come on,” you plead.  “It’s David Gordon Green.”

“Alright, if it’s still playin'.” 

He clenches his jaw in silence for a minute, glaring at the road ahead, then asks “What’s this about Jaques? You really have a date or just tryin’ to fuck with me?”

"What, if you can't have me no one can? That's fucked up."

He sighs, exasperated. "No shit.".

“We’ve had this conversation,” you continue. "When you got all pissy about that pic being on insta?”

“Yeah, and you deleted the pic."

“Doesn't mean you were right, I was just using it to get you to jack off. “

"God, you're filthy."

"So yeah, maybe I'll go out with him. If you won’t touch me, can't expect no one else to."

"Touched ya this mornin’, didn’t I?” He raises his eyebrows and looks at you cockily. 

-

When you get to the theater, he reaches over you to get his glasses out of the glovebox and the stretch of his short sleeve makes you reach out and touch his ungodly tricep.  He ignores the touch, puts his glasses on, and puts the case back in the glovebox.  Inside, the manager changes the tickets for you.  You pick the back row, prompting a cautionary look from Joel. 

You raise the armrest and he lowers it between you again. The theater is cold and he’s freezing in his undershirt and slacks, but it’s the hottest combination, especially with his glasses.  When his nipples harden from the cold, you reach over and grab his pec. He gives you a side-eye but lets you massage him for a minute before he takes your hand and puts it on your side of the armrest.  You grab his hand while it’s there and place it on your lower thigh near your knee.  He swallows and shifts in his seat but doesn’t resist.  He stares straight ahead.  He lightly caresses your thigh over your leggings.  

When you move his hand higher up on your thigh, to the hem of your sweater dress,he gives your thigh a brief squeeze before taking his hand back.  He adjusts himself in his pants  then puts his elbows on each armrest, clasping his large hands in front of his stomach and staring straight ahead at the movie.

You leave him alone for a while, then slip your hand under his arm and into his lap, squeezing his thigh. You lean in as close to him as you can. He inhales sharply and doesn't do anything about it. You work your way higher and higher on his thigh until your wrist brushes his hardening cock, flooding you with arousal. You keep your hand on his thigh, rubbing it in a way that rubs your wrist on his package. You feel it getting firmer and it's driving you crazy.  

"Not doin' this," he whispers.

"What?" You stop moving your hand but don't take it away.

"Back of the theater like a couple'a teenagers."  That's what he says. . . but what you hear is we can do it somewhere else. 

His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows and he slowly, regretfully returns your hand to your side, taking his arm back right away this time. You behave for the rest of the movie.

-

On the ride home, you ask him to stop by your apartment so you can get something. You keep your hands to yourself as he drives. You're getting a new TV on black friday and want to bring your current one to your room at their house. When he parks, you ask him to come in and help you carry it.

He walks into the living room and you say "make yourself at home, I've gotta unhook everything." 

He manspreads on your couch while you bend over and make no effort to be modest as you unhook the cables.  You turn around and he's brazenly staring at your ass, holding his massive hand on his inner thigh. He watches you with puppy dog eyes as you stand up and cautiously approach him.  He slowly rubs his inner thigh and wets his lips.  He makes no effort to stop you from climbing into his lap and even moves his hand to make room for you to straddle him.  Your crotch goes straight to his, and you cradle his head with your thumbs in front of his ears.  You read his face and it’s open.  You press your lips into his. He closes his eyes and opens his mouth, feeding you his tongue as his large hands come to your back.  

You roll your hips into his hardening cock. His hands slide down your back to your ass and he grunts into your mouth as he pulls you into him, using your crotch to rub his hard package. You dip your tongue into his mouth and he accepts it hungrily with light suction. Your mouths make love to each other and you softly moan into each other’s lips as you breathe through your nose and grind into him. 

Your clit throbs and your cunt begs to be filled. He wedges his hand under you, between your legs, engulfing your entire crotch.  He slides the hand back and grabs at your ass from underneath you, his middle finger pushing your leggings slightly into your crack.  Then he rubs all the way forward again from your lips to your clit with a deep breath.  His middle finger ghosts your entrance and he groans at the dampness of your leggings. 

You break away from his mouth and reach your wrists around his arm in his lap, leaving his hand between your legs, stroking you, as you  unbutton his slacks. You rise up and pull down his zipper.  He nudges your breast with his nose, then drags it across your dress to your other breast.  You  reach your hand into his pants, groping him through his boxers with your fingers pointed down and your palm hits the damp spot from his tip.  Then you slip your hand into his boxers and break the kiss to whimper into his mouth as you move the warm, smooth skin of his shaft and he ghosts your clit over your leggings. You wrap your hand around his shaft in an upright fist and sit back down on his thighs. 

Joel murmurs into your cheek, “this is dangerous, sweetheart.  Bein’ alone like this.” He reaches down between you and frees his cock from his boxers, then pulls your crotch into him and moans as the soft shape of your lips cradle his shaft through your damp leggings.  As you grind into him, you watch his face and his brow furls. 

“I know you want it,” you pant and his mouth latches onto your neck. 

His hand wraps around yours.  He pries your fingers off his cock and takes it in his own hand. Then he slides his hand into your leggings and gathers  your slick to lube himself.  He starts stroking his stiff member feverishly.  You’re miffed that he wants to come already.

“What are you doing?” you ask. 

“Told you, this is dangerous, sweetheart.”

“Well at least let me do it.”  You dismount him and get on the floor between his knees. He sighs and looks straight up at the ceiling as you take his cock back into your hand.  You form a broken ring round his lower shaft with your thumb and two fingers, then you bring your head to his lap and suck the tip of his cock into your mouth, followed by most of his shaft.  

“Fuck,” he exclaims, startled by your mouth. “Use your hand,” he pants. “Just your hand,” he trails off weakly, his eyes drifting downward toward you.  You try to make eye contact with him and he looks back up at the ceiling.  “HAND,” he demands.

You take it out of your mouth to ask why.

“‘Cause I’ll never stop seein’ this, damnit.” You begrudgingly use your hand. 

He sucks in a chest full of air and his thighs tremble like he’s about to come.  

“Can I swallow it or do you want it all over your clothes?” 

“Fine."

After a few more strokes, you take him into your mouth again and he shoots his salty load into the back of your throat. 

-

His arms look ready to burst through his t-shirt as he carries your tv to the car. You drive in silence, looking out the window. 

Then you wonder out loud, "What if we just fucked? Would that be so bad?" 

He looks at you as though to say come on, but you raise your eyebrows inquisitively. 

He says, "Okay, let's play it out." He clears his throat. "We fuck, then what?"

"We fuck again."

He rolls his eyes.  "Okay, but what happens?"

"We fuck again, and again, and we keep fucking" 

"Christ," he exhales, then adjusts himself. "I'm tryin' to have an adult conversation here." 

“Okay,” you say.  “How’s your marriage?”

“How do you think? You’ve known her your whole life.”  He looks at you like you did something wrong. “Don’t ask me that.” 

“How’s it an adult conversation if I can’t ask any questions?”

He groans in frustration.  

It's silent for a few minutes.  When you look over at him, he has his hand on his mouth.  He’s tearing up.  “This is fucked up,” he says weakly, then takes a deep breath. "We can't keep on like this."

-

As always, thank you so much for your support and engagement <3

Special ty to @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog for getting me over the hump on my roadblock <3<3<3

-

All Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose  @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda @blackvelveteen1339   @manazo @wolvesandvampires  @taeslarityy @str84pedro @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy 

-

@vickie5446

[heesdreamer]

HOMES NOT HOME

PAIRING ➩ jay x reader

SUMMARY ➩ recently smitten with the most popular guy on campus, park sunghoon, you’re struck with the rumor that he only likes girls with experience. your only option is to ask your best friend for help.

WARNINGS ➩ smut and uhh i can’t remember honestly lol nothing crazy

WC ➩ 15.7k

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ loosely based and named after this song so listen if you’d like. my mental health has been bad so this isn’t proofread AT ALL and it was written in tiny fragments over the week instead of my normal one sitting so sorry if it’s not consistent or choppy

“I need you to have sex with me.”

You were stating it casually as you crossed through the threshold of your best friends apartment, using your copy of the key to let yourself in and throwing your bag loosely on the couch before attacking him with the direct statement.

He was sitting at his desk and you watched him impatiently as he slowly turned his chair in your direction, pushing his glasses off his nose and onto his head as he stared at you with a bored expression.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He was asking you in his usual steady tone and you let out a groan before approaching him dramatically and dropping to your knees in front of his spinning chair.

TWO HOURS EARLIER

“Wait.. are you serious?” Your head was picking up at the sound of your friends confused voice, falling into a disbelieving laugh that caused you to send her a sharp glare and move your hair out of your face.

“What’s so funny about that?” You were spitting at her in frustration, having just confessed to her your undying crush on a boy at your school. You’d dramatically slammed your head down onto the table afterwards and only lifted it back up when you heard her insulting tone.

“You are so not Sunghoon’s type.” Yuna was shaking her head and casually scrolling through her phone as she broke the news to you, not even bothering to let you down gently or pay you a second of attention.

She wasn’t necessarily trying to be rude, she was simply just used to your antics and impulsive behavior. When you’d approached the table in anguish citing that you were in an unrequited love with a member of the biggest frat on campus, she’d automatically knew you were in one of your erratic moods.

“What’s his type then?” You were piqued with interest and scooting forward in anticipation for her answer, your butt leaving the seat as your elbows slide across the table and you were leaned on top of it.

“I don’t know… girls like him I guess.” She shrugged softly and finally glanced over her glass screen to look at you as she delivered the final blow. “Girls with experience.”

Jay was staring down at you from where he was sat at his chair, his face unchanging as you clutched onto his knee and dramatically retold the story that had led you to making such a ridiculous request when you walked through the door. He was more used to your behavior than anybody else and had the knowledge and experience to not take you seriously.

“And what does this have to do with me exactly?” He was sighing and your mouth parted in disbelief, genuinely not understanding how he wasn’t getting where you were coming from.

“Are you kidding me? Dude we’ve been friends since like… forever. Who else would I do it with?” You were sitting back on the carpet now that you could tell he wasn’t going to budge, leaning back on your palms and still sitting at his feet.

The phrase to describe the duration of your friendship, wasn’t one of your exaggerations. You’d actually been friends for as long as you can remember and the two of you had never been separated since meeting, becoming quickly known as a solid unit and never being seen without the other.

It slowed down as you got older and gained your own personalities and hobbies, surprisingly opposites considering you’d spend all of your developmental years together but it never put much of a hinderance on your friendship. Jay kept you steady and grounded when you were close to bouncing off the walls and you made sure he didn’t rot away in his apartment having no social life.

“Plus, you’ve been with girls haven’t you?” You were asking him slowly and he just stared at you in response, sighing softly when your mouth curled into a knowing smile and you sat back up on your knees.

“Why do you want to be with a douchebag like Park Sunghoon anyways?” He was looking away from you as he said it, looking only slightly flushed at your sitting position before he was diverting his attention back to the laptop on the desk in front of him.

“He’s not that bad. He’s way better than the last few guys.” You were trying to justify your taste but you could see him rolling his eyes, knowing that your standards were extremely low and it didn’t take a lot to be better than your exes.

You were sighing softly and standing up off the floor, making your way across the room and flopping down on his bed with a flair of dramatics. You landed on your stomach but you looked back over your shoulder to see if he was watching you and your antics, smiling softly when you saw that he was, out of the corner of his eye.

“Fine, since you don’t want to do it I’ll just have to find somebody else.” You made sure to keep your voice extra disappointed and dramatic and you heard him let out a small scoff at your exaggeration. “I’ll just ask that Jeongguk guy from the arts department, you know the one who keeps making passes at me every party.”

You glanced back over at him and couldn’t help the laugh that escaped from your lips when you saw the annoyed expression on his face. He was wheeling the chair closer to the bed and sighing again, taking his glasses off of his forehead so he could run his hands through his hair.

“Wouldn’t it be too weird?” He was asking and you were sitting back up in anticipation now that he was asking questions, possibly interested in accepting your proposal. “I mean.. are you even attracted to me?”

Your mouth was falling open slightly as you stared at him in disbelief, leaning forward slightly to see if he was being serious before you were frowning at him. “Are you being serious right now?”

He didn’t say anything and he didn’t need to, knowing that you knew he was always serious, almost painfully so sometimes. He was watching you as you scooted forward so you were closer to the edge of the bed and by default closer to where he had pulled the chair up to, looking into his eyes earnestly as you dropped the worlds most awkward truth bomb on him.

“Jay. You’re like… sexy.” You were telling him in a flat voice and he could tell you were being serious but he couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of him at your sincere tone and the frown that only deepened when he chuckled at you.

“Okay fine, so when would we do this?” He was asking and you gasped with excitement, sitting up fully and throwing yourself onto his lap so you could wrap your arms around him in thanks, squealing slightly when the chair spun around at the sudden collision and nearly tipped the both of you over onto the floor.

You’d left his apartment with the promise to return the next night for your first lessons, thanking him with a big grin and failing to notice the apprehension he had in his eyes when he gave you a half smile back before closing his door.

——

Never in your entire life had you felt nervous to see your bestfriend. Not even after you’d gotten your period for the first time in gym class and everybody had laughed and pointed, not when your parents had first started to talk about divorce and you had to go and stay with him and his mom for a few days and not even when you’d gotten totally dumped right before prom night and showed up at his door in your dress with makeup running down your face.

You’d never been hesitant to raise your hand to knock on his door, cringing after you did so and the foreign noise rang far too loud, remembering suddenly that you had your own key and typically would just let yourself in.

Still, you waited for him to come open the door and you scowled at yourself when you instinctively flattened your hair and tried to lean against the door in a semi seductive way. He was swinging the door open with a raised eyebrow before you had the chance to stand upright and amusement paused over his features as he looked at you.

“Are you trying to rob me or something?” He was asking and you swiftly were reminded of who you were here to see, your shoulders losing tension as you pushed past him into the room.

“I was trying to be sexy dickhead.” You were complaining to him and you tried not to feel nervous again as you sat down on his bed, glancing at him to see him watching you from over by the couch. “So how do we do this?”

He was shrugging softly after a few seconds but still approaching you and also sitting on the bed, a normal distance away from you but for some reason it felt both too close and too far away. You were reminded why you hadn’t lost your virginity yet despite the overwhelming desire to, freezing up and becoming awkward whenever you entered a situation that could potentially lead to it.

“First, you’ve gotta relax dude.” He was sighing and you look over at him with a frown, not surprised that he had immediately clocked your hesitation. “It’s just me.”

This fact did little to help you now that you thought about it. You’d immediately came to him because he was your other half and there was no way you’d ever find somebody you were more comfortable being vulnerable with but you hadn’t considered the fact you’d actually have to have sex with him to have sex with him.

Jay was attractive, something you’ve always known and never bothered to deny despite not outwardly announcing it. You listened bitterly to your other friends gossip and gush about him once you entered high school and he hit puberty, growing rapidly in height and his features sharpening.

It only worsened when he became obsessed with going to the gym after school and wearing clothes that showed off his arms even when it was cold outside.

You were filled with a weird sense of pride that he had chosen to be your best friend even throughout his growing popularity, denying dates with beautiful girls if the two of you already had plans and never paying any mind to the way your friends would throw themselves at him every time you managed to drag him out to parties with you.

Yet you’d never thought of him in that way, despite your moms always talking about how the two of you were destined to be married and how most guys you encountered told you that they’d just assumed Jay was your boyfriend and never bothered to try and flirt with you because of that.

“We should probably kiss each other.” You were suddenly blurting out and his face instinctively scrunched up at the suggestion, causing you to sigh softly and look at him in bewilderment. “We can’t have sex and not kiss, that’s super weird.”

“I know I know.” He was telling you and he was sitting up from where he’d been leaned against the headboard and you flushed now that he was closer to you, feeling weird that his presence was causing that within this specific context.

You’d kissed Jay before, quite a few times but it was never anything more than quick press of your lips or a peck that you immediately recoiled from. He’d actually been your first kiss, surging forward during a spin the bottle game in middle school before anybody else got the chance and you had thanked him with ice cream later that night for saving your virgin lips from one of the creepy older boys eyeing you.

That was just Jay, the most selfless and caring best friend you could ever imagine and you felt lucky every time he was doing you a ridiculous favor at 4am after you’d awaken him from his deep sleep.

Another reason why you hadn’t hesitated in asking him to help you with this although now you were slightly regretting it and not the biggest fan of how quick he was to accept anything you wished for. He was eyeing you curiously and you knew he had sensed your hesitance, making you worried that he would back out under the impression you didn’t actually want this to happen.

You were moving closer to him before he could do so and his eyes widened for a second at your sudden close proximity before his eyes were falling down to your lips and then back up again like he was asking for permission.

You nodded softly but you still weren’t prepared for the way his hand came up to cup the side of your face gently, helping you meet him halfway into a kiss and you tensed up at the contact. He pulled back for a second after barely touching your lips, waiting for you to loosen up and when your shoulders were dropping and you pushed forward again he finally moved more.

The first thing you noticed was that Jay was a good kisser. He was moving against you slowly but you could tell he was taking it easy on you, his thumb swiping along your cheek to keep your anxiety calm and if you didn’t know any better you’d think this wasn’t a big deal at all to him. But you did know better, in fact you knew best, and you could tell he was equally as nervous as you were judging by the way his eyes darted around your face every time he pulled back to make sure it was still okay.

“Can I try more?” He was rasping out to you and your stomach tightened at the sound of his voice. You thought you’d heard all of his voices, having heard him angry and yelling or upset with his voice cracking around words before fading out into a low whisper but you’d never heard it like this before.

You didn’t even think before nodding your head, leaning towards him again in a daze and ignoring the soft laugh he let out as your lips connected once more. He was kissing you the same as before, slow and patient so he didn’t push your limits and you were growing slightly impatient until you felt his tongue swipe across your lower lip.

Your mouth parted in a surprised gasp but he seemed to take this as an invitation, slipping it into your mouth and you squirmed at the feeling of him licking into the kiss. You shifted forward towards him instinctively on the bed and you felt your knee collide with his, ignoring it in favor of pushing your own tongue against his and listening to the small groan that slipped out of his mouth.

“Is it okay?” He was barely pulling back to ask and you were still trying to move closer to him as he spoke, making the words muffled as he ignored your desperation. You were nodding as an answer to him and he seemed pleased by your confirmation before remembering he was meant to be teaching you. “Try sucking on it a little.”

Your eyes widened at his suggestion and you stopped trying to kiss him so you could stare up at him in confusion, watching in amusement as his ears turned slightly red and he looked something close to bashful for suggesting it.

“Does that make you feel good?” You were whispering to him, speaking for the first time since this started and his eyes shot back down to your lips now that they were moving.

“I-I mean.. I think most guys would like it.” He was trying to justify his reasoning for suggesting something so specific but he could tell by your smile that was slowly growing that you were just messing with him, sighing softly before leaning into you again to reconnect the kiss.

Despite you making fun of him, you still were nervous to test out what he had suggested and you were grateful that he started off slow again and didn’t immediately stick his tongue down your throat. He kissed you gently for almost too long and you decided to act before he did, parting his lips slightly and deepening it yourself. He hummed in approval and your face flushed red at the small noise, fighting the urge to retreat and hide your face from him.

You could feel him take a deep breath when you were hesitantly sucking his tongue into your mouth, twisting your head sideways so you could take it deeper and pull back and forth along it.

His hand was shooting to your knee and gripping it tightly at the feeling, giving you a warning to stop that you quickly ignored. You never thought that kissing Jay would feel so good, leave you shuffling forward into his touch on your leg and desperately kissing him continuously to ensure he wouldn’t stop.

He was making another low sound into your mouth and only then did you pull off for a second, breathing heavily and staring at him with hooded eyes. He held your stare for a few seconds before he was looking away suddenly, his expression not giving anything away but you could tell he was starting to overthink about the whole situation.

“Is it too weird?” You were asking him and he glanced over at you at the sound of your breathy voice, eyes shooting down to your swollen lips and then back to his hand that was still on your knee.

He removed it and you weirdly felt a pang of disappointment at the movement, scooting closer to him on the bed and leaning forward slightly into his line of vision so he had no choice but to give his attention to you. His expression was neutral again when he looked at you and you found yourself cursing the fact your bestfriend was so stoic.

“I think we should stop here for the day.” He was telling you in a calm voice and your mouth fell into a pout of disappointment without you even realizing it, only noticing it when his eyes went back to your lips and stayed there when he saw the way they were jutted out.

“We barely even did anything.” You weren’t embarrassed by the childish whine slipping into your tone, knowing perfectly well what typically got Jay to succumb to your wants and you could tell he was weak spirited in his attempt to stop early by the way he sighed softly and continued to stare at you in contemplation.

“What else did you want to do?” His question was making you freeze up, not expecting the control to be handed over to you and you instinctively shrugged as the familiar nerves crept back up.

He quickly picked up on your body language and the fact you didn’t want to be the one in charge of making the decisions, sensing the panic building inside you at his lack of control and he shifted on the bed before sighing once again and shaking his head to himself in disbelief. You watched him as he leaned back up against the headboard, his legs spread out in front of him and your eyes widened slightly when he was patting his lap expectantly.

“You always sit on my lap, don’t overthink it.” He was instructing you when you he saw your facial expression and you nodded softly before you were scooting forward and situating yourself sideways on his lap, directly on top of his thighs and holding onto his shoulders so you didn’t lose your balance.

He was right, you did often sit on his lap even when he groaned and told you to get off and you rarely thought twice about doing the action but you didn’t ever sit in his lap with this weird energy in the room. And you definitely never sat in his lap and leaned down to kiss him again like you were now, moving without realizing but you were grateful that he was quickly kissing you back without any hesitation now and you could feel his hand laying over your own legs to hold your waist and keep you steady.

You were slightly above him in the new position so he had to crane his neck to meet with your lips and you could feel his jaw tensing under where your hand was moving to, holding his face gently and kissing him deeper.

His hand was tightening when you shifted in place uncomfortably and you pulled out of the kiss to glance at him, seeing his awkward expression for just a second before your eyes were falling down to where you were sat against him. You shifted again experimentally and he let out a low groan, squeezing your waist almost painfully on reflex and your lips curled back into a smile.

“Cut it out.” He was squeezing out the words in a wince and you ignored him, shifting your hips over his again and feeling him lift his fingers to swat at your skin where your shirt had ridden up. “I said cut it out dickhead.”

“Can’t you at least pretend we are doing this for real?” You were stopping in your movements to pout down at him, your hand leaving his face and instead brushing through his hair gently. He was watching you with an annoyed expression but you knew it wasn’t sincere. “Try dirty talking to me or something.”

He snorted out a laugh of disbelief and shook his head, denying your request even when your pout deepened and you huffed in disappointment. You were a bit confused within yourself at your own request, not necessarily needing practice in that department but for some reason you wanted to hear his voice more while you were doing this.

“I’m not going to dirty talk.” He was denying even harder, seemingly genuinely flabbergasted that you were asking him to do that and you sighed softly.

“At least say something nice, call me pretty or something.” Your hands were running through his hair as you spoke and he lost his amused expression after a few seconds, staring at you as he processed your words and instinctively leaning closer to your touch.

He was kissing you again then and you were throw off by how familiar it felt, how easy it was for you to immediately move against him like this was something you’d been doing for years. It felt different now that his hands were touching you, squeezing your lower back so you were leaning forward towards his chest and still using your hands in his hair to tilt his head back and give you more access.

“You know you’re pretty.” He was breathing out the words into your mouth and you smiled into the kiss, deepening it again once more before you were pulling back a bit to respond to him.

“So pretty it makes you crazy?” Your voice was teasing again and his eyes flashed with a glint of something you didn’t recognize, watching you in a way that would’ve made you squirm if it was anybody else.

But it wasn’t anybody else, it was him and because it was him you were able to laugh softly before wrapping your arms around his neck and laying your head on his shoulder, grateful when he took the hint that you were done for now and leaned further into the headboard so you could both lay down with you still in his lap.

You tried not to think about the fact you could taste Jay on your lips still or the low noises that were pulled out of him just a few minutes ago, instead just laying there with him and hoping you wouldn’t regret this.

——

After you’d left his apartment you didn’t see Jay for the next two days. It wasn’t extremely rare that you were apart that long but it was right around the amount of time where you’d start to get antsy and miss being in his comforting presence, always finding a natural relaxer in him and his calm personality so you didn’t think twice before you were heading over to his place after your final class for the day.

You were skipping a step at a time as you made your way up to his apartment floor, passing through the outside walkway and the other residents tables and children’s toys with familiarity and ease.

Your fingers were reaching down into your bag in search of your key, adorned on the keychain that contained a polaroid of the two of you from high school also attached. Your search slowed to a stop when you rounded the last corner and saw that his door was already open, eyebrows furrowing at the fact he was standing in the doorway and smiling as he talked to a girl standing against the outside railing.

She was grinning back at him, flicking her hair back over her shoulder and your eyes narrowed at the way she laughed loudly and leaned forward to push against his arm teasingly.

Jay was extremely nice with an overload of manners and gentle acts of kindness but he definitely wasn’t the most social person you knew and you rarely saw him interacting with people outside of you and a few boys he’d met at work. You absolutely didn’t recognize her and you were certain you’d never seen her before, even more so when he was catching sight of you out of the corner of his eye and you saw them widen slightly.

She was noticing that he was distracted and following his line of sight, mouth pursing in confusion when she saw you and your pointed glare.

It made you feel worse that she clearly had no idea who you were, extremely unnerved at the idea of somebody knowing Jay yet never hearing of you and you didn’t care about the weird way your stomach turned when he cleared his throat to bring her attention back towards him.

She glanced over at you once more before looking back at him and your scowl deepened when she automatically was falling into that smile again, flirty and seductive as she titled her head slightly. You watched as he gave her a small wave goodbye after saying something you couldn’t hear and you didn’t bother turning your body when she walked past, leaving her to awkwardly squeeze past you.

Jay was watching the exchange and sighed softly when he saw your dark expression, turning around and heading back into his apartment but leaving the door open so you could follow.

“Who was that?” You were demanding as you stormed through, setting your bag down on the kitchen counter and turning towards where he was situating himself down on the couch.

“New hire at work.” He was explaining in a bored tone and you watched as he looked over his shoulder at you, immediately understanding that you wanted more context and shrugging softly as he continued. “I’m supposed to show her the ropes and she asked to go out for coffee.”

“She walked you home?” You were interjecting and slipping off your shoes, making your way over to the couch and sitting up on your knees next to him once you got over there.

He nodded his head in confirmation, watching you carefully and you frowned softly. Jay was used to your possessiveness when it came to him and sharing his time and energy, it had actually caused a few arguments between the two of you that always ended with you crying and apologizing for your behavior and him telling you it was okay and that he really didn’t mind.

Sometimes you thought he was just saying it to be nice and make you feel better but other times you had a hunch that he actually didn’t mind your clinginess. You’d see a small smirk playing on his face when you stayed close to him at parties or sent sharp stares towards girls who were eyeing him with terrible intentions.

“She was pretty.” You were telling him matter of factly but you were watching him carefully to see how he’d respond and he gave you a knowing look before shaking his head.

“I didn’t realize.” He was responding and you smiled at his attempt at a safe answer, leaning closer into his side and tugging at his sleeve with impatience.

“What are you teaching me today, oh wise one.” He was scrunching up his nose at your choice of title towards him and you could feel him tensing against you at the reminder he was meant to be showing you more things today, only just having finished reeling from kissing earlier in the week.

He wasn’t answering right away so you were sitting up to look at him better, still leaning into him but closer to his face now and in a better position to catch the way his eyes darted down to your lips for a few seconds too long. He was meeting your eyes again and he saw the excitement in them before you were leaning in to kiss him.

You weren’t wasting anytime today considering you’d already pushed past the awkwardness of actually kissing for the first time, throwing your leg over his on the couch so you were straddling his lap and you cut off the small inhale he took at the feeling by licking into his mouth.

His hands were sliding back around to your back, just to rest there as you lowered yourself down on him and leaned fully into the kiss. You weren’t going to admit to him how much you liked kissing him, keeping it a secret within yourself that you almost wished you could just do this for the rest of the night. Just almost though because his hands were squeezing against your waist and you felt a surge of want run through you.

“Can I put you in my mouth?” You were pulling off to whisper into his mouth and his entire body tensed up at your words.

“Jesus christ Y/N.” He was scolding you for your sudden exclamation but you could feel the way his hips twitched in interest underneath your weight. “Warn a guy before you say something like that.”

“It’s important though, isn’t it?” You were muttering to him and ignoring his complaints, circling your hips over him and smiling softly when he let out a low groan at the feeling. He looked slightly pained and conflicted and you almost laughed at him but held it in so he wouldn’t tell you no. “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it before, I’m a girl after all.”

“I didn’t realize you were a girl until like junior year.” He was teasing back but your frown immediately deepened and you shoved his shoulder in irritation. He laughed softly at your reaction but didn’t say anything else when you rocked your hips again.

“You’ve really never thought about it?” You were asking him again but your tone was different now, breathier and nearly a purr as you hovered your mouth over his. He kissed you softly for just a second before you were pulling slightly out of his reach. “Never once thought about sticking your cock down my throat Jay?”

He cursed under his breath again but this time you could tell he was taking you seriously, his hands tightening continuously around your hips and helping you rock against him. You were letting out a small hiccuped gasp and falling forward slightly onto his chest at the feeling of him pushing up into you, feeling him hard underneath you.

You’d never thought about Jay being hard before and a year ago the idea probably would have made you throw up in your mouth. You were trying to convince yourself that this reaction was purely biological, throbbing now at the feeling of him pressing against you continuously, but you couldn’t stop staring at his hooded eyes and the way his jaw tensed every time you lowered yourself harder onto him.

“Get on your knees then.” He was mumbling out against your lips and you felt a shiver wrack through you at the stern tone he had taken, hearing it hundreds of times before and you mostly never listened to him but your body instinctively was sliding off his lap and hitting the carpet.

You were sat next to his feet with wide and confused eyes, watching him to see what you were supposed to do next and he seemed to snap out of it and remember he was supposed to be showing you how to do it, shaking his head slightly to ground himself before lifting his hips off the couch and undoing his belt with one hand.

You watched him with fascination as you leaned forward to get closer to him, your hands landing on his thighs and feeling the muscle clench under your hands.

He paused for a second and was staring at you long enough for you to start shifting uncomfortably, not being able to read the expression on his face and taking it as a negative considering how weird the situation was.

“You can close your eyes and pretend it’s someone else if you need to.” You were offering the out to him and his eyebrows furrowed at your suggestion, although not saying anything as he slid his pants down his thighs.

Your eyes were dropping to his crotch and they widened slightly, completely forgetting about the weird moment you’d just had and leaning forward again so you could touch him. He swore under his breath when you rubbed your hand over the print in his boxers, muttering something about you warning him again.

“Stop being so tense.” You were telling him as you continued to touch him over the fabric, watching with interest as his stomach clenched and he tongued at his cheek.

“Sorry it’s just… you’re touching my dick dude.” He was wincing out and scrunching his nose at the sentence, causing a small laugh to slip out of you before you were getting serious again and squeezing his length softly.

“This is supposed to be sexy.” Your tone was slightly disappointed and he picked his head up from where it’d fallen back against the couch, looking at you and your dejected expression before his gaze was falling to your hand on top of him.

“Yeah, don’t worry about that.” He was responding in a low tone and you were confused for a second before flushing at the realization he was implying this was attractive to him without any effort.

He wasn’t saying anything again after that and you noticed he was a bit too distracted to actually give you a play by play, something you didn’t mind considering how it might take you out of the moment and make you too nervous to be given specific instructions to follow. You decided to just try your best and hope he would correct you if you hurt him or did anything wrong.

You were leaning forward to put your mouth on him, instinctively sucking softly over his underwear and he let out a loud groan again, his hips kicking forward automatically and you smiled against him at the apology he forced out.

It was making you feel weird that you were so enamored by the faces Jay made when he was feeling good, the way his jaw clenched and the breaths he hissed through his teeth. You were shifting in your kneeling position uncomfortably with the wetness dripping down your thighs.

“Take it out.” You were telling him softly, trying to distract yourself from this realization and he picked his head up again to look at you for a second before nodding swiftly and lifting his hips up off the couch again.

You expected him to be more hesitant like he had been, looking like he was on the verge of calling this whole ordeal off at every move you made, so you were slightly thrown off when his cock was suddenly bare and standing straight right in front of your face. Your eyes widened slightly at the appearance and you could feel him staring down at your face to gauge your reaction.

“This is pretty impressive Jay.” You were remaking before glancing up at him and seeing an amused look pass over his face before he was rolling his eyes at you.

“Yeah.. so maybe we should work on dirty talk.” He was retorting, making fun of your plain style of a compliment.

You were being honest though, genuinely thrown off by his size and length. This was something you’ve definitely thought about just not in such a hands on way, more so out of curiosity to what your quiet friend was packing and wondering the reasoning behind the small smirk he got around his male friends whenever they started arguing over who was bigger.

You didn’t need to wonder anymore, clearly having your answer now and whilst you’d never paid much thought to your best friends dick size, it was undeniable that it was big enough to make your mouth instinctively water.

His hand was gently pushing your hair out of your face as you leaned forward towards his lower half again and your eyes snapped up once more just for a second, faltering slightly at the affectionate look in his eyes as he tucked some loose strands behind your ears and then you were fully moving forward and taking his head into your mouth.

“Oh fuck.” The words were slipping out of his mouth and you could tell he was using a lot of his focus to stop himself from bucking forward into your mouth. “D-don’t worry about fitting it all he’ll like it if you just, fuck, do what you can then use your hands.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion for a second at who he was referring to and he noticed, his eyebrow cocking at your expression before you were remembering the whole reason he was letting you do this and your face flushed. You quickly tried to distract him from your mistake, licking up his length softly and feeling relief when his head was falling back in a sharp gasp.

He didn’t say anything else for awhile other than occasionally muttering that you were doing a good job or softly telling you to watch your teeth, his hand in your hair but not tugging, just resting there and keeping it out of your face.

You could tell he was close after not too long of your soft touches and amateurish licks, his hips kicking up off the couch instinctively and his free hand curling into the fabric below it. You were watching him from behind your eyelashes and you felt the urge to draw his attention back to you, give him a reason to look at you while you did this and not lean his head back against the couch.

“Go to a party with me tonight.” You were taking your mouth off of him and freezing in your movements, keeping your hand still where it was wrapped around the base of his length but squeezing it softly.

He was lifting his head up swiftly and glancing down at you with a panicked look, his eyes shooting to your hand around him and then immediately up to your face. His ears turned red when he caught sight of your swollen lips and teary eyes but he didn’t say anything about it and instead just shook his head at you.

“What are you talking about?” He was groaning out, followed by an even louder noise when you were squeezing him again. “Cut that out.”

“Tell me you’ll come with me.” You were leaning forward to suck his head into your mouth slightly, tasting the beginning of his end on your tongue and almost recoiling from the shock of the taste.

You held strong to prove your point, taking him deeper into your mouth and a heat passed through you at the fact he was watching you now, eyes transfixed down on your face and darkening as he watched you try to fit as much of him in your throat as possible. You shifted on your knees again uncomfortably due to the throbbing behind your underwear, resisting the urge to sit yourself down on his foot and take some of the pressure off your core.

He didn’t say anything regarding your request until he was getting close again, sighing when you removed your mouth once more and he realized you weren’t going to let him cum until he agreed to come with you.

“Fuck, fine I’ll go.” He was rushing out and you smiled softly at him, eyes lighting up with excitement and he thought about how familiar the expression was in such a jarring foreign setting.

Any contemplation about your strange situation was gone the second you were taking him back into your mouth, feeling how tight and wet your throat was before you were finally letting him finish. You winced at the feeling of him cumming inside your mouth but the noises he made distracted you from it, watching him become overwhelmed with pleasure that you caused.

You were smiling again even though he wasn’t looking anymore, suddenly feeling a lot better about this.

——

“I can’t believe you actually got him to come out.” You were turning around at the sound of somebody’s voice behind you, two drinks in hand and a raised eyebrow until you saw it was one of the boys from the football team who knew Jay.

“It was just some mild convincing.” You smiled at him, lips curling up and your mind flashed with the memory of how Jay looked sitting above you on the couch.

He hadn’t complained much about having to come, throwing in small statements of annoyance here and there but for the most part he’d been a good sport. You’d expected it to be more awkward around him, your own face flushing with heat when he had arrived at your dorm to pick you up but he was almost overly casual about the entire ordeal and you felt a bit childish for not being able to hold eye contact with him.

“Yeah, I guess he’s got that soft spot for you.” He was responding and shifting in his spot where he was looking out at the crowd. “I’m sure he won’t regret it after tonight.” The boy was chirping back and your own grin fell in confusion at the smirk on his face, following where his eyes were looking and fully frowning when you saw somebody standing next to your friend now.

She looked familiar, maybe a classmate or somebody who worked around campus, but you couldn’t quite place where you had seen her. Maybe this was due to the fact you weren’t at all focused on her face, your eyes locked on her hand that was wrapped around Jay’s wrist as she laughed softly at something he was saying.

He looked just as awkward as he always did but you felt like he was watching her reaction to see if she’d laugh at his comment, whatever it may be, and your eyebrow cocked softly at the fact he wasn’t moving away from her touch at all. You felt stupid when the jock next to you was awkwardly clearing his throat at your sudden silence, glancing over at him and then turning red because your own jealous thoughts regarding your best friend.

You were fully aware you had an issue when it came to being possessive over him but it had never necessarily extended to him interacting with other girls in a flirty way, especially when he genuinely seemed interested. You didn’t typically try to set him up or guide him towards a relationship but you never interfered with a potential one, you certainly never felt such a weird pit in your stomach because of it.

You were making your way back to him without saying another word to the boy beside you, two cups still tightly held in your hand and you saw the girl glance over at you as you approached.

She dropped her hand off of Jay’s arm and you smiled a wide fake grin at her, casually passing him his drink and tilting your head with faux curiosity. You could feel him looking at the side of your face as you did so, feeling your arm brush against his considering how close you had planted yourself to him and you were parting your mouth to speak before you thought about it.

“Are you Jay’s friend?” You were asking her in a friendly voice but you knew she could see the glint in your eye, the way you leaned your body towards Jay as you said his name and tightened your grip around your cup.

“I.. I mean yeah, well not really. I’m just-“ She was trying to explain with a small nervous chuckle, her eyes shooting back and forth between you and him like she expected him to interject and tell you her reason for being there.

“Not really then.” Your second smile was a lot more forced and showcasing a sympathy for her that was mean and unnecessary, slipping off when she was glaring at you slightly before turning to leave and walk around from the two of you.

You moved away from him again with a sigh once she was gone, turning your body to rest your back against the wall and take a sip from your drink. Jay was tense next to you but you didn’t notice until he was looking at you with a flat expression, clearly slightly annoyed by what you had done and you raised an eyebrow at him in question.

“Why did you do that?” He was asking and he was keeping his tone steady like he was genuinely curious but you could tell he was frustrated. You had a feeling that you’d get into an argument if you gave him a wrong answer, shifting uncomfortably and frowning softly.

“You looked uncomfortable.” You were shrugging as the lie slipped through your lips and you glanced at him when he scoffed and pressed himself against the wall next to you, shoulder bumping yours and staying there.

“Did I?” He was retorting and you could tell he knew you were lying, he always did and you felt suddenly embarrassed about how you’d reacted.

You didn’t respond to him but you turned your head to look at him between, something unidentifiable and heavily weighted in your eyes and he watched you carefully before his eyes were flicking down to your lips and then back up. Your interest was piqued at this and you were instinctively leaning closer to him, developing a habit after the last few times but stopping when he was suddenly clearing his throat.

“Park is probably around here somewhere.” He was telling you and his face pulled into a small grimace as he said it, looking away from you and missing the way you froze up slightly at the mention of the boy. “Aren’t you wanting to go find him?”

“I don’t know.” You were shrugging again and he was smiling a bit now which made you flush, knowing he was finding the shift in your mood funny. “I think I need a little more practice right?”

“Yeah?” He was still standing close to you, body slightly leaned forward so he was hovering his face near yours and this time when his eyes dropped to your lips he didn’t retract, just watching you carefully as that familiar but unreadable look crept back up in his eyes.

You didn’t respond to him out loud, not fully trusting yourself to speak but you were nodding your head softly and staring up at him with big eyes, having half a mind to stop yourself from reaching your hand up to hold his arm but a surge of want was running through you considering the way he was looking at you.

It wasn’t like people didn’t already talk about the two of you, having to explain to almost everybody you’d ever met that you weren’t dating or anything remotely close to it and people still didn’t necessarily believe you when you said it so it wouldn’t be the end of the world to touch him here, even this close to each others faces. But you’d been trying to convince them all for years and you’d feel a bit stupid to be caught doing unfriendly things with him now, especially with how new it was to you.

You also needed to remind yourself that you weren’t doing this for fun and there was an end goal here with Sunghoon, a goal that might as well be forfeited the second you started making out with your close male friend at a party he was also attending.

Jay wasn’t making it easy to remember this small fact, clouding your head and sense of judgment the longer he stared down at you and the closer you subconsciously swayed towards his steady frame. Part of you felt like your brain had made a connection, something clicking after he’d touched you for the first time and crossed that line friends typically didn’t.

“Stop looking at me like you want to kiss me.” He was mumbling but he had a small smile on his face, lip curled up as he watched you with amusement and you were sure you frowned at his teasing.

“Why can’t we?” You shifted onto your tiptoes for a second before dropping back down, your nose just barely grazing his but enough for him to follow your face back down and press a quick kiss against you like he couldn’t help himself.

He was immediately pulling away however and you watched him as he squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head softly in denial and glancing over his shoulder for a second like he was making sure nobody was watching the two of you. Your hand was coming up to rest near his ribs, bringing his attention back down to you and you could feel his heart beating under your palm.

“No one’s looking.” You were reasoning, half hurt he cared too much and half thrown off by the fact that you didn’t at all. He didn’t object when you were rocking forward to kiss against his jaw softly, sucking in a small breath when you were swiping your tongue along his warm skin.

“Let me take you home.” His voice was low on your ear and you could feel his hands sliding over your sides to hold your lower back, drifting dangerously low but he was rotating his body so he was hiding you behind him against the wall.

“Can’t be so romantic if we are practicing for the real thing.” You were smiling at him humorlessly but he didn’t seem to find it funny, tensing at the mention of your real sexual encounters being meaningless and futile. “You have to treat me like some random hookup.”

He was watching you for a second to try and see if you were serious before his eyes were drifting away again like he was thinking about something. Eventually, you stared at him as he found his way back to you and moved one of his hands so he could brush your hair back behind your ear and out of your face. “Yeah, you know I can’t do that.”

You didn’t respond to him immediately, faltering slightly at the sincerity in his voice but you didn’t have a chance to think about what he was implying before he was fully kissing you finally. You almost pushed him away to ask for clarification but you quickly forgot about the strange statement when he was slipping his tongue into your mouth, melting against the wall and pushing against him completely.

Kissing him standing up felt different for some reason, you could feel every part of his body flat against yours and the height difference was a lot more evident, making your head spin slightly.

He wasn’t taking it easy on you anymore like he had the last few times, deepening the kiss immediately until your head was completely tilted back and accepting anything he would give you. The feeling of his tongue against yours, mixed with the fact you were in public and able to be seen by anybody sober enough to take a closer look and see who he had against the wall, was sending a heat through your body and you arched closer to him.

His hands were lower than your back now, squeezing and groping you in a way that took your breath away and made your knees so weak you would’ve crumbled to the floor if it wasn’t for him holding you up.

“Jay.” You were panting out into his mouth and his grip tightened at the sound of your breathy voice saying his name, pulling back just enough to allow you to speak. “Need you to touch me, please.”

“Not here baby, we can’t.” He was quickly responding and shaking his head, his hair loosening up slightly and falling over his forehead at the movement. You hoped he didn’t notice the way you practically gasped at the pet name slipping from his mouth so casually, shifting against the wall at his hesitant rejection.

He was looking down at you with want in his eyes so you weren’t too put off by him trying to say you couldn’t, rubbing your hand against his chest and pushing closer again until his lips were touching yours. You didn’t kiss him, just letting him feel you there and you let out a sigh of relief when he was losing his resolve and surging forward to fully press his lips against yours again.

It was addicting to kiss him like this and your hands were twisting in his hair softly, keeping him moving tight against you and giving him no room to change his mind again. You could feel his hands on your body tugging you forward against his hips, your leg going up slightly closer to his waist so he could fully slot in between your legs and nearly suffocate you against the wall.

He wasn’t moving you away even when your hand was slipping back down past his ribs, cupping him through his pants and smiling softly into the kiss when he hissed softly and faltered in his own touching.

“Fuck.” He was mumbling the word into your mouth and you knew you had gotten him, kissing him again even though he wasn’t moving anymore and just recovering from the feeling of your hand on him. “I’m going to go get a cab, let’s go back home.”

This time you didn’t object, liking the way he phrased going back to his apartment to include you and he kissed you one more time before he was stepping away and heading outside to call down a ride. You waited for him against the wall, knowing he’d come back inside to get you once he managed to get one like he always did.

Your hand was coming up to touch your lips, catching your breath and smiling softly as you thought about him and how strange things have been since you asked him to help you out.

It wasn’t an uncomfortable strange at all outside of the way your heart kept fluttering every time he tucked your hair behind your ears and gave you a particularly affectionate look. Jay was always kind and gentle with you so it didn’t phase you that it extended to this type of activity, figuring that there was no other reason for him to be acting like that and trying to ignore the way that thought made your chest tighten.

“You okay?” Your head was picking up swiftly at the sound of a new voice next to you, panicked at the sudden arrival and then completely freezing when you realized who it was. “You look like you’re going to be sick.” Park Sunghoon was watching you curiously, not much concern on his face, despite acknowledging your strange expression, as he took a sip from his cup casually.

“No I-I’m fine.” You were rushing out quickly and moving your fingers away from your mouth, flattening your hair and looking away from him with slightly widened eyes.

“Was that your boyfriend?” He was asking suddenly but his tone was bored, looking from you then back to the crowd like he was only over here to pass time. You froze up at the realization he was referring to Jay, obviously having seen you pressed against the wall only a few minutes ago.

You weren’t sure what to say for a few seconds, knowing that if this was last week your heart would be pounding with excitement due to the fact Park Sunghoon was speaking to you willingly. Adding onto the fact that he had seen you with somebody, now having no reason to believe you were inexperienced if you were boldly making out in the middle of a crowded party.

“No he..” You were trailing off when you noticed Jay coming back inside now, eyes locked on where he had left you and a small smile creeping up on his face when he saw you, until his eyes traveled over to the boy standing next to you. “He isn’t my boyfriend.”

Sunghoon wasn’t saying anything else but you heard him hum softly in acknowledgment before falling silent again, the both of you just standing there as you watched Jay slowly pass back through the crowd and approach the corner you were standing in. He kept his distance for a second, like he was making sure he wasn’t interrupting anything serious before he was standing by your side and clearing his throat.

“Ready to go?” He was asking in a low tone but you could tell his mood had drastically flipped from when he had left, more hesitant and guarded now like he wasn’t sure you’d actually come with him.

To make matters worse, your eyes instinctively went over to Sunghoon to see his reaction and you didn’t miss your best friend unmistakably tensing from the corner of your drifting gaze.

“Hey man, I’m Sunghoon.” He was still smiling softly, either completely oblivious to the weird tension settling over the two of you or simply not caring at all, and you watched as his hand crossed over where you were standing to extend towards your friend. He wasn’t touching you but he was inadvertently covering your body with his and your eyes widened slightly at the sudden close proximity.

“I know.” Jay was simply responding and not saying anything else, not even glancing down towards the hand waiting for him to take and you heard the other boy laugh softly before he was retracting it.

“You go to school here?” He was asking and you couldn’t tell if he was genuinely trying to make conversation or if he was just attempting to figure out what your friends deal was. Either way you tensed up slightly at the mention of Jay attending your school, a sore spot for both of you considering he hadn’t been accepted and yet he still decided to move here with you so you didn’t have to separate.

“He works on campus.” You quickly interjected when you noticed the way Jay’s jaw clenched at the question, not answering him directly but giving him enough information to let him know why he might look familiar or know who Sunghoon was. “We have to get going now.”

Sunghoon was nodding softly but he was carrying a look of amusement that you couldn’t miss and you were positive Jay hadn’t either, most likely catching on to the building instigation the second he had stepped foot back inside.

“I’ll see you around then.” He was slipping out casually as the two of you started to turn to leave, grinning at you when you looked back over your shoulder and hesitantly nodded, hand raising in a small wave before you were feeling Jay’s hand on your back leading you out of the house.

He didn’t say anything as you made your way outside and he remained silent the entire ride back to his apartment, staring out the window and keeping his hands in his lap as he avoided looking at you. You were a bit confused on what exactly he was feeling but you knew for sure that something had shifted once he saw Sunghoon and you weren’t going back home for the same reason anymore.

You sighed softly when he quickly got out of the taxi, standing there with the door open until you had scooted across the leather seats and got out into the night air. He closed it softly after thanking the driver and followed behind you as you made your way up the stairs to his door, the air heavy and so tense you felt like you were suffocating on it.

“Are you not going to talk to me then because I can just head home.” You were remarking once you’d crossed into the apartment, watching him in silence as he took off his jacket and shoes and went to the kitchen to get a drink.

“Is that what you want to do?” He was retorting in a calm tone but you could tell from where you were standing that he was agitated, eyes glinting with irritation as he leaned forward slightly onto the counter but you couldn’t tell if he was upset with you or something else.

“I want to do what you want to do.” You stated plainly and he didn’t respond as you kicked off your shoes, walking past where he was in the kitchen to head towards his sleeping area.

He was watching you as you moved around, the apartment small with an open floor plan but it was homely and you were there often enough to have your own dedicated clothes drawer underneath his. You tried to ignore his gaze on you as you opened the top one instead, pulling out one of his hoodies and glancing at him for a second before you were reaching behind your back to try and unzip your dress.

You heard him sigh softly before he was setting his cup down on the counter, making his way over to you slowly and offering a hand down to you on the bed when you just stared at him in confusion. You let him take your hand in his and he pulled you up softly, turning you around and pushing your hair off your back before he was helping you by pulling the zipper slowly down your back.

Your breath was catching in your throat at the feeling of the fabric loosening around you, his knuckles brushing over your bare skin and his hands stopping just above the curve of your ass.

“We can’t do what I want to do.” You were attempting to turn around to face him at the sound of his soft voice next to your ear but he stopped you by holding tightly onto the middle of your arms.

“Why not?” A small whine had slipped into your voice as you asked the question, so accustomed to him letting you get your way and slightly frustrated that he was being so distant.

You knew it was crossing a line, something that had silently been there for probably longer than you even realized, and you knew you should probably be more hesitant about crossing it but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You’d always been more impulsive than Jay but you knew he had to somewhat feel it too, that strong pull towards each other that was now just multiplying every time he touched you.

It was especially overwhelming now, almost unbearable as he gently lowered the sleeves of your dress off your arms until the top was dangling around your middle. You were completely bare from the waist up now but you didn’t think he could even see you, keeping you in a vulnerable position as you stared forward at the wall.

His hands were brushing against your ribs and for a second you thought he wouldn’t even touch you until you felt him cupping over your chest and groping curiously. Your breath caught in your throat at the feeling of his cold fingers against your warm skin, the rings on his finger brushing against your hardened nipple and you took a stuttered gasp when he squeezed harder.

Jay’s other hand was pressing into your stomach and making sure you were tucked closely against him, feeling him getting harder against you the longer he touched you.

“If it was up to me I’d bend you over right now, just like this.” His voice was low in your ear again and another gasp ran through you when he was slightly tilting you forward, keeping you standing with his arm wrapped around your middle. “I’d tear the rest of your dress off and I’d make sure you never thought about going to Park Sunghoon or any of those other frat assholes again.”

“Then just do it.” You were panting out to him and trying to press yourself closer, feeling your dress slowly slipping down more from the bundled up fabric dangling around your middle. “What’s stopping you?”

He didn’t respond for a while and eventually he stopped touching you, sighing softly and he breath fanned the back of your neck. His hands were soft again now and resting on your hips carefully like he was considering what to do next.

You knew him well enough to know he wasn’t going to fuck you, certainly not like this and you were half positive he wasn’t going to touch you at all. Still, he was better at telling you vulnerable things when you weren’t staring at him so you didn’t move from your position and let him stand there in contemplation.

You were still slightly disappointed and hurt when he was pulling the rest of your dress down your legs, helping you step out from the middle of it, and then reaching down to grab his hoodie you had picked from the drawer and softly pulling it over your head. He finally turned you around once you were covered up, the hoodie coming down just above the middle of your thighs and he moved your hair out from inside the collar.

“Kiss me at least.” You were suddenly saying and grabbing his hands to stop him from moving away from you. His eyes glistened with something but he was letting you place his hands back around you, your own arms snaking up and around his neck in a strangely domestic position.

He didn’t say anything but he fulfilled your request, kissing you softly and pulling you tighter against him.

It was impossible to pretend now that you weren’t changing your mind about the entire thing, no use trying to push how good this felt to the back of your mind. You immediately felt a wave of relief wash over you and you practically melted in his hold, familiar and comfortable in a way that nobody could ever replicate and you knew he had to be feeling something similar if he was this conflicted about having sex with you.

Jay was your rock in the sense he was calculated and careful in almost everything he did and you figured he would’ve had sex with you easily if he had decided there was no risk to your friendship in the aftermath. The risk was there and it was prominent especially now as you leaned into him again, fully accepting it despite his hesitance.

You were squealing softly when he was suddenly lifting you up against him, taking a few steps forward before dropping the both of you on his bed and you giggled into the kiss when he turned your bodies so you’d land on him and he could take the weight of the fall.

The two of you kissed like that for a while longer, almost on autopilot as you moved his mouth against yours and you licked into his mouth with now practiced accuracy. He was warm and familiar underneath you, the hard expanse of his body and muscles flexing and easily supporting you and your constant shifting and movements. You were slightly impressed at how well he contained himself, feeling yourself get worked up in only a few minutes and clinging to him desperately.

Eventually the kissing stopped but you stayed just like that, your entire weight on top of him and your head laying on his chest like you had a hundred times.

“Can you tell me why not now?” Your voice was quiet and hesitant as you asked him the question that was still on your mind, letting a little time pass before you were bringing it up again and feeling relieved when he didn’t immediately tense up.

“Why do you get upset when I talk to other girls?” He was responding instead, not answering you directly yet and you frowned softly even though he couldn’t see it.

“I don’t know I can’t explain it.” You mumbled into his chest and you shrugged the best you could in your position. You were swatting at his side when you heard him let out a small scoff of disbelief, his chest vibrating your face when he started to laugh lightly at your upset reaction. “Don’t laugh at me, I’m serious.”

You were being honest despite the vague answer, never really knowing how to explain the sick feeling that washed over you anytime Jay’s attention drifted to somebody else for too long. Your mom used to tell you that you were just used to always being the star of his show and couldn’t handle it when you were out into the background but you figured that you should know better by now, know that you would never be pushed aside for somebody else.

Maybe that was the issue, the two of you always prioritizing each other over actual relationship or even family at times. You’d had dates that would get awkward at the mention of your best friend and you’ve gotten your fair share of nasty glares from the few girls Jay had actually brought around you.

He let your weak answer slide and in return you didn’t push for an answer about why he wouldn’t just let himself go with you, not saying anything else and listening to his breathing level out as he fell asleep underneath you.

——

“A double date? What the hell does that even mean?” You were rushing to catch up with Yuna, eyebrows furrowed due to the news she had just dropped on you casually before continuing to make her way to the class she was late for. You were practically breaking out into a jog to match her long strides. “Why would Sunghoon tell you that and not me?”

“Did you give him your number?” She was quickly retorting and barely sparing you a glance before she was nodding. “Exactly.”

“So he wants to go on a date with me but with you and Jay too?” You were attempting to confirm what she had said but she was sighing softly like repeated it would be a hinderance, stopping in her fast walking to allow you to catch up as you panted softly. “Do you even like Jay?”

“Are you kidding me Y/N? No I don’t like your pseudo husband.” She was shaking her head and scrunching up her nose like the thought grossed her out, your face flushing slightly at the title she had given him as you pushed your messy hair out of your face.

“I don’t think he’d agree to that.” You were telling her and glancing to the side awkwardly, not really understanding the whole situation or the fact that Sunghoon had somehow managed to apparently be interested in you despite the extremely awkward interaction you’d had a few days ago.

“He already has.” She was retorting quickly before turning on her heel and beginning her speed walking again, leaving you standing there dumbfounded as you tried to process what she had said.

You called out to her to ask for clarification but she didn’t turn around and just waved a dismissive hand at you, eventually disappearing around a buildings corner and you could do nothing but sigh softly.

There was absolutely no way Jay had willingly agreed to hang out with Park Sunghoon, adding on the fact he’d be crashing your date and also having to go out with Yuna, who he’d expressed dislike towards multiple times despite your weak defense for her behavior towards you. Your head was swarming in confusion and you almost pulled your phone out to call him and demand answers when you remembered he was at work.

You frowned softly and started to walk again, heading to the other side of campus where his work building was and trying to understand what scenario would lead to him agreeing to come along and also why he hadn’t told you in advance.

The small entrance bell was ringing out loudly as you passed through the door and you tilted your head to try and see around the counter to check if he was there, smiling softly when he was popping his head up with a surprised look.

“Hey.” He was breathing out when he realized it was you, standing up swiftly and circling around the counter until he was standing in front of you. You tried to ignore how out of character it was that he was greeting you so softly, a hand coming up to cup your elbow gently and look down at you. “You alright? Did you lose your key again?”

You were shaking your head and staring up at him with a slight flush to your face. “No just wanted to come here instead of going home. I hope it’s okay, sorry I didn’t call.”

“Don’t say sorry.” He was quickly interjecting and you didn’t say anything after that, just nodding and glancing at the floor hesitantly. He seemed to take notice of your strange demeanor and you picked your head back up when you heard him sigh softly. “You ran into Yuna didn’t you…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You were saying instead of directly answering and he looked away from you at the sound of hurt in your voice, still keeping his hand on you despite it tensing.

He didn’t look at you again for a bit but you were almost glad he didn’t, already finding it hard enough to be upset with him when he was just trying to help you. You weren’t sure how to communicate that you didn’t necessarily want help with Sunghoon anymore, knowing he’d stop with the new closeness and routine that you’ve gotten used to other the last two weeks.

“This was the point right?” He was muttering but he seemed hesitant in saying it and a small scoff fell from your lips.

“Right.” You agreed but your tone was bitter and your face had pulled into a grimace, taking a few steps back so his touch fell off of your arms and you were closer to the door again. “Guess I’ll see you tonight then.”

——

Despite absolutely dreading the double date and having no expectations or positive feelings about how it would go, it still somehow managed to be off to a worst start than you could’ve imagined.

Sunghoon had been nearly an hour late to picking you up and hadn’t made any move to get out of his car to greet you, leaving you to wrap your cardigan closer around your shivering frame and round past his hood to his passenger side door. You still planted a smile on your face, trying your best to not make him uncomfortable or show your unenthusiastic mood, but you realized it was pointless considering he was on the phone the entire ride to the restaurant.

He’d greeted you with a half wave before he was cackling about something the person on the other side was saying, not caring as you crossed your arms and zoned out for the entirety of the drive.

You sat in the leather chair after you’d arrived to the restaurant you were meeting the other two at, waiting impatiently and glaring at him from the corner of your eye as he continued his loud conversation for another twenty minutes, parked outside and unmoving. Eventually he was glancing at you and letting out a sigh, announcing to the caller that he would have to call them back.

“Alright, let’s go I’m starving.” He was quickly saying before he was opening his door and leaving the vehicle, leaving you dumbfounded for a few seconds at his lack of manners before you were hopping out and jogging to catch up with him.

You were absolutely fuming by the time you’d gotten inside, not understanding why Sunghoon had bothered arranging this whole entire thing when he clearly wasn’t interested in you. You were used to be outspoken and blunt but you just felt embarrassed about the whole thing and couldn’t bring yourself to confront him while the others were waiting inside.

It got worse once you saw them sitting together although Jay was clearly in the same boat as you, arms crossed and staring blankly at the table in front of him as Yuna chatted animatedly and leaned closer to him to try and show him something on her phone screen.

Sunghoon cleared his throat when the two of you got closer and both of their gazes shot up in your direction, her face curling into a bright flirty smile at the sight of your date. Jay’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of you but then they immediately flickered down to Sunghoon’s hand that was rudely placed on your lower back after he’d complained you were walking too slow.

It could’ve been going worse technically, you and Jay hadn’t spoken a word the entire night but your dates clearly didn’t care, talking to each other nonstop about school and parties they’d attended. The two clearly had a lot in common considering their popularity status and their apparent habit of having terrible manners.

You were sat directly next to Jay and you tried to ignore him for the most part, especially since he was wearing your favorite shirt of his and you could smell his heavy addicting cologne from a seat over.

It wasn’t going too well considering he had been continuously glaring in your direction since you sat down, unrelenting even when the waitress came by and he recited both of your orders with ease. You were fed up with his bad mood, especially since he was the one who had agreed to this entire ordeal, and he was jumping in his seat at the feeling of you sending a sharp kick towards his shin.

Yuna spared him a quick glance at his sudden movement but didn’t stop her rambles and you watched as Jay sighed and pulled his phone out of his pocket. Yours was buzzing only a few seconds later and you glared at him before picking it up and unlocking it.

Jay : What the hell was that for?

Y/N : stop staring at me like that

You watched his face as he read it and you felt slightly flushed when his eyes were meeting yours for a second before going back down to his phone screen and hurriedly typing.

Jay : Stay still

He was putting the device back into his pocket before you had a chance to respond to him and ask what he was talking about, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion as you stared at him and waited for any type of explanation.

You quickly got it when you were feeling something touching your leg underneath the table, jumping slightly at the sudden contact before your wide eyes were meeting his and seeing the slight warning in them. You were reminded of him message to stay still and you planted yourself firmly despite the urge to squirm at the feeling of his hand gently rubbing your bare knee.

“So Y/N, are you working anywhere right now then?” Sunghoon was suddenly asking you and you liked him a lot less than you already did considering he decided to finally speak to you at the worst possible time.

You cleared your throat softly before shifting in your seat to sit up more, accidentally causing Jay’s hand to move further on your leg until it was gently moving your dress up and resting on your thigh. You expected him to move it back down but he kept it firmly there, squeezing your skin softly as he waited for you to answer.

“Um.. n-no not right now I’m just… going to school.” You were trailing off softly after awkwardly squeezing the sentence out and the table was silent as they looked at your flushed face.

“She doesn’t need to anyways.” Yuna was quickly adding and her mouth was curled into a half sneer, playing with her half finished food as she met your eyes for a split second before continuing. “Jay pays for basically everything for her.”

An awkwardness settled over the table at her extremely bitter tone and you saw Sunghoon’s eyebrows raise in interest, that same amused expression he had at the party returning. Jay’s hand was tightening on your thigh harshly and you made a small noise of surprise before quickly pretending to choke and take a drink of your water.

He didn’t seem to notice he had done it and he immediately was releasing the tight hold and rubbing the skin gently as a silent apology, shifting in his seat when you were swinging your foot to kick at his leg again.

“So you two met on campus then?” Sunghoon was continuing to ask questions despite the fact you were obviously uncomfortable and Jay was glaring daggers in his direction.

“Um no.. we’ve been friends since we were little actually.” You were explaining in a soft voice and another flash of interest with through the boys eyes, glancing between the two of you with a weird excitement printed on his face.

“And you never got together?” He was blurting out, clearly not caring about how blunt and overly personal the question was considering you’d barely spoken outside of small talk in passing. Your mouth was parting in surprise and you glanced over at your friend who was as looking more and more angry as the seconds passed.

“That’s none of your business.” Jay was spitting out and his tone was low and harsh, much different than the one he normally had with you.

Sunghoon didn’t seem deterred at all although even Yuna had finally fallen silent, watching the interaction with a careful expression. “She is my date isn’t she?”

You heard your best friend scoff harshly but he didn’t immediately say anything, glancing over at you like he expected you to interject and when you looked over at him with wide eyes and a continuously parting mouth, his features hardened when he realized you weren’t going to say anything. You didn’t do anything but sit there and search for words as he pushed his chair back and stood up, leaving your skin that was warmed under his hand with a sudden chill.

Sunghoon was laughing softly as Jay left the restaurant and you turned to glare at him in disbelief, not understanding his motive but quickly realizing that he was super amused by the two of you and your confusing dynamic.

It wasn’t hard to understand that he didn’t have feelings for you and only invited you on this date for some entertainment, most likely catching interest at the party when you had awkwardly left with Jay. Your mouth was turning down into a frown and you followed his actions of standing up from your chair, flattening down your dress before turning and following after him.

He was halfway through the parking lot by the time you managed to catch up with him, running the best you could in your uncomfortable heels but thankfully he was slowing down when he heard them clicking on the cement. His back was tensed since he knew it was you but you were still grateful he had stopped for you.

“Where are you going?” Your voice was soft and weak, not necessarily voicing the question you wanted to ask but you just felt the need to say something to fill the silence.

“I can’t do this anymore Y/N.” He was turning around as he spoke and he sounded genuinely tired, staring down at you with hooded eyes and a hurt expression on his face. You watched him with confusion and he sighed softly before tossing a hand up in frustration. “I can’t be around you pretending like this, it’s killing me.”

“We don’t have to do it anymore then.” You were quickly telling him although it hurt you to say and you were taking a step closer to try and reassure him, stiffening up when he was automatically backing away from you.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.” He was saying and he sounded certain but you were confused on what he meant, eyebrows furrowing which only seemed to upset him further. “This isn’t the pretending Y/N, being with you like we’ve been doing for the last few weeks. That isn’t the hard part, how can’t you get that?”

You were slightly understanding what he was implying now but it made no sense to you, a sick feeling washing over you at the fact he was seemingly saying he had been feeling the same way you had been. He was sighing again at your lack of a response but he didn’t say anything, looking to the side where his car was parked before he was glancing at you again.

“How would I get that?” You were countering with more force than you meant to let into your tone, slightly frustrated that he was placing blame solely on you for not realizing his feelings about this whole situation.

“Are you kidding me?” He was laughing but it was completely humorless and angry. Not necessarily at you but definitely at the situation the two of you had gotten yourself into. “I moved down here to be with you dude. I work a shitty job on the campus of a school I was too fucking dumb to get into, stuck in a tiny apartment with neighbors who have no volume control.”

He was moving his hands around a lot as he spoke, clearly upset and releasing thoughts he’d been keeping bottled up for longer than you realized. Your eyes were stinging with tears as you listened to him rant, bringing up the fact you hadn’t gotten into the same school, something you knew had been bugging him for some time.

You never thought less of him for not getting accepted and you had hoped he didn’t either, not ever wanting to talk about it after he decided to just not apply anywhere else. You figured he had come with you so you wouldn’t be lonely but your heart cracked a little at the implication he had solely came with because it was him that didn’t want to be without you for a long time.

Your nose scrunched up at the negative way he talked about his apartment, the disgust in his voice directed towards the same place that brought you the most comfort in the world.

It was definitely small and you’d spend countless nights banging on the walls to try and get the next door neighbors to quiet down but it was always a happy memory for you, giggling with him as you laid flat on your backs and kicked against the drywall repeatedly. You thought about waking up in his small bed together, tugging the blankets more over yourself and listening to his soft grunts of complaints.

Teaching you to cook and not getting upset when you continuously burnt eggs, smiling at you when he’d get home from a long shift and you’d already be there cleaning up the dishes and counters. It was your favorite place to be and he was your favorite person to see and your heart broke thinking that he’d been having a hard time.

“You still don’t get it.” He was shaking his head and pulling you out of your thoughts, figure slightly wavy through your teary eyes and you took another step closer.

“I think I do Jay but how can I if you’ve never said it.” You were telling him softly but your voice was cracking around the words, at least relieved he wasn’t backing up from your approaching frame anymore considering that would’ve caused you to break down.

“How could I say something like that?” He was asking sincerely and he looked down at you finally, holding your gaze and giving you a tiny sad smile. His eyes were wet too and you briefly thought about the fact you hadn’t seen him cry in a very long time.

It was quiet for a few seconds and then you were gently reaching out to him, feeling a wave of relief when he allowed you to hold onto his arm softly and squeeze it. He let out a small shaky breath at the feeling of you touching him and it gave you the drive you needed to be able to say what you were thinking about so heavily for so long.

“You asked me why I don’t like it when you talk to other girls and I said I don’t know, but I do know and I have known for a long time.” You were watching him intensely as you spoke clearly, a faux confidence in your voice that didn’t match the way your heart was beating painfully in your chest. “I don’t really know when I knew or if I maybe just realized when you kissed me.”

His eyes were flashing with something and you laughed softly as nerves overwhelmed you, pausing in your rambles and you were sure he could feel the way your hands were shaking against him because he was placing one of his over yours that were gripping onto his arm, softly rubbing them and giving you just enough strength to push through the hardest part.

“I’m inlove with you Jay and I want you around me for a long time. I need you around me I think and it’s scary but I’d spend the rest of our lives in that tiny little apartment.” You were finishing off as a small sob broke through you but you kept a smile on your face, watching him and shaking your head softly.

He wasn’t saying anything at first and you were feeling a sudden sense of dread, not really thinking about what would happen if he didn’t feel the same way about you and you had gotten it all wrong.

You weren’t able to hold that doubt for long considering he was moving his hand off of yours suddenly to cup your face, pulling you in for a kiss before you were even able to register his movements. You were gasping against him and then immediately turning to putty in his hold, a wave of warmth and reassurance washing over you despite the fact he hadn’t said it yet back.

It wasn’t something he necessarily needed to voice considering he’d spent your entire lives showing it and taking care of you more than anybody ever had, constantly being so gentle and reliable even when you weren’t always the easiest person to handle.

You still felt better when he was pulling out of the kiss to look down at you, still holding onto your face as you both laughed softly in disbelief and relief. He was leaning forward to place his forehead against yours and you were clutching onto his arms desperately despite knowing he’d never go anywhere if you let him go.

“I think I’ve loved you since I met you.” He was saying it in one breath and you immediately noticed the way his shoulders lost all tension in relief, speaking the words that had been running through his mind on loop every time you smiled at him or wrapped your arms casually around him in a hug.

You had no real way of knowing how insane you constantly made him feel, always being the most beautiful person in the room and never giving him the slightest chance of caring about anybody else. You’d constantly complain to him that he needed a better social life for a chance at romance and his heart would turn uncomfortably at the thought of being with anybody but you.

Nobody set his skin on fire like your touches did and the two of you moved perfectly in sync together, easily bantering and moving around each other in a gentle dance that only came with time and understanding.

You were his better half and he’d always casually introduced you as that, laughing softly as you would hit his arm and scold him for trying to flatter you while not having the slightest idea that he meant every single word of it.

“Take me home then?” You were whispering out finally, forehead still against his and feeling the way his thumbs came up instinctively to wipe the tears off your red cheeks.

He was smiling and nodding at you, no hesitance in accepting whatever request you made to him, the same thing that had gotten you into this situation in the first place. He’d immediately regretted it when he first finally kissed you because he’d realized he’d never be able to go without you that close again, feeling sick every time he remembered it wasn’t real for you.

The worry and disbelief that had been building up was finally crumbling down for both of you as you stood there holding each other for a bit longer, eventually taking your hand in his as he lead you to his car and took you back to your home.

[madlittlecriminal]

[01] Secret Ingredient⥓ Mafia!Miguel O'Hara × Female!Baker!Reader

Warnings: mention of Dana (this is not comic accurate), talks of gold digging, talks of missing breakfast (miguel), mention of killing

series masterlist | miguel o'hara masterlist

Your day was pretty slow. The only customers you had throughout the day were for cake testing or birthday cakes. Either way, you reached your goal and were satisfied with the work for the day.

At least, when it comes to the outside world as it was now 10:43pm and you were waiting for the ovens to cool down as you cleaned your kitchen. After washing the dishes and mopping the floors, you took off your apron, putting it on the hook in the kitchen before wiping your face. You cleaned off your chalkboard and double checked the ovens before closing them and grabbing your things along with your dessert box for the club workers across the street after locking your bakery up.

Little did you know when you entered, he was there in the VIP section.

His whiskey went down the wrong pipe, causing him to choke after spitting the drink out.

Obviously, not one of his best moments, but he was thankful he removed the carpet because it would be one hell of a mess he'd have to clean up.

"Everything alright, boss?" Lyla asked, tilting her head to the side and adjusting her heart shaped glasses.

Miguel gave her a nod, but his eyes were glued onto you as you smiled at the bartender, denied a drink and made your way out.

"Oh..." Lyla teased as she poked Miguel's shoulder. "Someone has his eyes on the baker from across the street. I don't blame you, she's gorgeous." She giggled and rested her elbows on her knees as she leaned forward. "Also, this will probably be the first time I see you with a woman."

"No, you've seen me in a relationship before."

"She does not count! I didn't like her." Lyla crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.

"And why not?" He furrowed his brows as he looked at his right hand and best friend.

"She was ignorant and a gold digger."

"She was not."

"The fact that she wanted her name plastered on this club, which is your popular club by the way, is enough to prove she's a gold digger. Remind me how the relationship ended."

Miguel sighed, knowing Lyla was right. "She broke up with me because I refused to give her some of my profits from my businesses."

"Exactly. However, the darling from across the street has her own business so she's making her own money. Plus, she's a baker! I saw you munching on her conchas after the meeting this morning. When did you even get it?"

"It was almost lunch time, and I haven't eaten all day. After you left the club, I came by and reimbursed everyone. I ate them and then told Jessica to get a new register for the club."

"Now, why would you tell her to do it knowing she's going to pop her baby out pretty soon?" Lyla crossed her arms.

"She picked it out and Noir helped carry it for her." He explained, gaining a nod from Lyla.

"Good, but now I need to know. How suave were you with the baker?" She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, the romantic in her making an entrance.

"If stuttering and hardly saying a word until telling her to keep the change and that I didn't need a receipt was suave, then I guess I did pretty well." He leaned back against the navy velvet couch, groaning to himself as he realized his mistake.

"Hold on. The man that can make a deal as if were as easy as making a bowl of cereal, can..." she lowered her voice before continuing, "kill a man without flinching, couldn't speak to her?" She glared at him in confusion.

"So?"

"Miguel, you spoke to Dana without an issue."

"Well, this one is different!" He rubbed his temples. "No sé qué es, pero sé que ella es diferente en comparación a Dana." (I don't know what it is, but I know she's different compared to Dana.)

Lyla smirked. "You got bit by a huge love bug, Mig. Now, would you say it's love at first sight or are you just attracted to her?"

"I'm very attracted to her, but I want to get to know her first before I declare if it's love." He explained before running his fingers through his hair. "I just don't know how that'll happen if I can't get one word out that isn't rushed or broken from a stutter."

"Just one question. Didn't you say you wanted to expand your businesses?" Lyla asked, tilting her head to the side, a strand of her hair falling in front of her heart shaped glasses.

"Yeah?"

"And didn't you say you were interested in 'Love Language' because they made money compared to other bakeries near you or any other business?"

"What are you saying?"

"I'm just saying, I thought you were glad Dana ended things because you don't mix business with pleasure." She shrugged, causing Miguel to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Ya dígame, Lyla. What's your point?!"

"Do me a favor and look across the street and tell me the name of the bakery."

Miguel rolled his eyes before peaking his head out of the VIP area towards the glass doors of his club. The streetlights illuminated the burgundy letters on the cream background of the dome shaped window awning.

"Mierda." He cursed under his breath, seeing the title of your bakery was the one he wanted to invest in or create a partnership with.

"Hey guys! You have to try these jelly doughnuts!" Miles called out to two of them.

Lyla got up and patted Miguel's shoulder. "Sorry big guy, but it's one or the other...unless you want both. Then again, it's her choice too. Good luck."

Miguel was convinced it was the unluckiest day he's ever had in his whole life. He wasn't sure if he could pick, but he also knew it was all up to you.

———

tags:

@deputy-videogamer @barbiecrocs @deepinballs @faimmm @wakeupr41 @bubblegumfanfics @smartyren @kimmis-stuff @latenightcravingz @youcantseem3 @corpsebridenightamare @thedevax @cicithemess

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Stevo with a small nerdy gf. She definitely a bad bitch but in the way that she’s just comfortable in herself and who she is. Gives off major dude-bro energy but not in an awkward obnoxious way. Feel like that would be perfect for him

Love thissss!!!

𝒫ℯ𝓇𝒻ℯ𝒸𝓉

Warnings- blood, you get into a fight.. jealousy, fluffy tho!! Stevo smokes weed at one point

Your arms were folded as you walked, the party was loud, tons of people, not your style or your thing. You stepped on a broken piece of glass (luckily with your shoes) you looked down and back up at Stevo, who was already far ahead.

You quickly walked over to him again, and he looked back at you. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” You said, looking at him again. You set your eyes on his familiar group, the people you were more cool with. Bob, and Mike and a couple other of his friends.

You sat down and you said hi to them, making small conversation.

“How’ve you been? Haven’t seen you around much anymore. Thought you both broke up or something.”

Stevo elbowed Bob for that.

“Nah.” You laughed “I’m there when your not.”

Bob furrowed his eyebrows and then his eyes widened as he realized. “Gross.”

Stevo laughed at his reaction.

Mike and you were pretty good friends, you both were very alike.

You and stevo made your way to everyone, some people asking who you were. You introduced yourself to them and most people liked you.

Most people.

One girl seemed to have a problem with you, you don’t know her name and Stevo didn’t know her either. You both had been there for a while now.

She stared at you, and then she went up to Stevo, who was right in front of you.

She said hi, flirting with him as you stood there. You grew angry at her, but you waited until she tried to make a move on him.

She leaned in his ear, looking at you while she whispered.

“Come on, lose the nerd. Come upstairs.”

Stevo looked back at you now. He wouldn’t do it, you knew that.

You were clearly annoyed, and stevo knew exactly what would happen before it happened.

You went up to the woman, who had backed away from stevo in shock. You punched her in the face, she gasped and tried to do the same but she failed, her swing hit the air. You practically jumped on her, punching her again and again. All hell broke loose in the party.

People cheered on.

Stevos eyes widened as he handed his drink to someone. Hands grabbed your waist, you shouted curses at the woman as he picked and dragged you off and outside the party, Bob running behind you both. He threw you over his shoulder as he talked.

“What were you thinking? I wasn’t gonna-“ he put you down on the curb outside the house, you sat down and his eyes went down.

Your hands were bloodied, you hadn’t noticed until he looked down at them. You just stared and stood up, you both walked to the car in silence, Bob following.

Stevo drove quickly back to his place. Bob gave you worried glances.

“Slow down man.” Bob put a hand on his shoulder. The grip he had on the steering wheel had his knuckles turning white. You held your bleeding knuckles and looked back at him.

He did slow down, thankfully. And soon he parked the car and got out, you and Bob followed.

You quickly went into the bathroom, knocking things down in the process as you winced, holding your hand again. Stevo walked in, seeing your struggle.

“Move. Please.” He mumbled, but you continued to try and find the bandages. He saw them and he grabbed them for you, gently moving you off from the counter. You hopped down, and you looked at him.

He wordlessly grabbed your hands, you were gonna protest but he turned on the water, running your hand under it. He ran it under the cold water for a few minutes, then you closed the toilet seat and sat on it as he grabbed a gauze pad and dipped it in some saline solution.

He made his way back to you, got on his knees and dabbed it on the wounds carefully. He was concentrated, but you were worried.

Then he grabbed the bandages, wrapping them around your hands.

He looked up at you now.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Stevo. What’s wrong?”

He shouldn’t say it, he couldn’t. He thought of an answer.

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“No you’re not. What’s wrong, Stevo?”

You knew him too well.

“I just don’t want you getting hurt. I care about you too much.” He shrugged. “God, I feel like such a damn poser when I’m with you.” He mumbled the last part.

Your eyes widened at the confession. It was rare for him to be affectionate like that, personal.

You smiled at him. “Thank you. For the…” you looked down at your hands and he nodded, sighing as he stood up.

“You wanna go down to the drive in movie theater?” He asked you. You smiled and he already knew the answer.

——————————————————————

You explained the movie to him, he stared and nodded while rolling up a joint.

“Mmmm… but I still don’t get it. Why don’t they all just like… i dunno… kill the robot? Why does that not work?” He asked when you stopped.

“Because, guns won’t do shit to it. Plus, body armor. Even if you do manage to get through it, one shot won’t do nothing. The desert eagle is the most effective one against them, but even that won’t really kill it.” You rambled on while eating, he raised his eyebrows at you, not really understanding but listening and nodding his head.

“Ohhh… I’m gonna be honest I have no clue what any of that means.” He said with a giggle, and turned back to the screen.

You smiled and rolled your eyes at him. When you were enveloped in the movie, he glanced towards you most of it. He felt like a teenager all over again.

You were perfect, in his mind.

[edges-of-night]

Heyo! I was wondering if you could write something about the lotr characters meeting a modern!reader that starts crushing on them once they show up in middle earth? (Preferably the 4 hobbits) Happy writings!

I hope I did your request justice! Enjoy!

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

Sure enough, Frodo had heard the gossip about a strange human showing up in the Shire – not only one of the big folk, but dressed especially strangely, and talking even weirder. Being the gentleman that he is, Frodo would not investigate or snoop around any further than that. Surely that human had enough helpful hobbits around them by now… Little did he know that nothing could be further from the truth!

Your time in this strange place had been nothing but miserable. No electricity, no internet, indeed nowhere to charge your phone – it wasn’t like your navigation apps were of any help out here, recognising absolutely nothing – but still you dreaded losing your only connection to home. None of the people here could tell you where you were. They looked like D’n’D halflings, with their pointy ears and short bodies, but all they did was pretend they didn’t understand you or shoo you away with whatever tool they were holding.

When your phone eventually died, you broke down crying in the grove you had been wandering. Covering your face with your hands, you sobbed with your back against the tree. It should be cruel that you were so lonely in such a beautiful place…

Somewhen, you heard light – well, as light as these big-fooded halflings could walk – steps coming toward you. A polite and quiet voice asked, “Excuse me… Can I help you?”

You looked up with a sniff. Before you stood a halfling with the brightest and biggest blue eyes you have ever seen. He carried a book under his arm. His words and demeanour were careful, as though he tried explicitly not to scare you.

“I don’t know,” you said truthfully. As soon as the words left your mouth, a comforting warmth spread in your chest – you had already given up hope of ever finding a friendly face here! You broke into a relieved laugh.

“I thought I heard someone crying,” the halfling smiled with a wave of his book. “And from the sound of your voice, you could use a glass of water, couldn’t you?”

You rubbed your eyes. “That’d be great, yeah. Haven’t had something to drink for almost a day now. I guess. I don’t know how time works here.”

“It’s the twelfth of July,” the halfling said gently, huddling down in front of you.

You sucked in a breath – such blue eyes could only mean you were in some kind of fantasy world! “The same day I left home,” you uttered, hoping your heart would not jump out right into his face.

“And still you seemed to have travelled quite the distance,” he said and smiled. “Come on,” he offered with an extended hand, “you can rest at my home in Bag End.”

“Thank you,” you breathed. But when you took his hand, you suddenly got the feeling everything would turn out okay after all…

.

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

In the hope that it would make you seem smaller, you ducked your head – but the halflings’ eyes were still firmly on you. You’d already been in their world for days, and yet they gawped at you as though you were an alien.

Well, considering you hadn’t seen any other humans in their little halfling town, maybe that was sort of true.

“The same as always,” you asked the bartender. Meaning: left-over bread and a bit of water.

“Right away,” she smiled. She was friendly – your only source of food for the past few days – but even her eyes were cautious. As though you might break something just by standing at her small bar counter. You suppressed a sigh and mumbled a quiet, “Thank you.”

“Belay that order, Rosie! They’ll have a summer vegetable ragout,” a rough voice next to chimed in. “And how about some redcurrant juice? Better than water all day. We’ll have a carafe.”

You shifted, elbows on the counter. You weren’t in the mood for petty halfling nonsense – you just wanted something to eat and get back to the tree you were hiding behind…

“On your tab, Merry?” Rosie asked, eyebrows risen in amusement.

“Yes, yes, everything on my tab.” He downed his beer and leaned further onto the counter. “My treat!”

Nothing in his voice suggested malice, so you did turn around. Next to you sat a bright-eyed halfling in a yellow vest. His cheeks were puffy from grinning. “Sorry if you looked forward to that ol’ bread,” his voice rasped. “Hope I didn’t ruin your evening.”

Something about his shamelessness made you smile. “You didn’t. Thank you.” You swallowed, but your next words left your mouth before you could stop yourself: “That’s the kindest thing someone around here has done for me.”

“Ahh, don’t give a horse’s shit about other people,” he went. “I was never averse to the big folk, and neither are the Tooks. And the Baggins’, needless to say. And, yeah, I’m a Brandybuck, so…”

Gears turn in your head – you’d heard all those names around town before. “Oh, you’re – what’s it – Merry?”

His head spun around, bright eyes staring at you. “Yeah,” he uttered. “That’s me.” He put his drink down and fumbled with the curls that had fallen into his face. You chuckled at how flustered he was all of a sudden – it was very cute! “And, and,” he stuttered, “you are…?”

You leaned in to tell him your name over the crowd’s noise. He smelled of apples and summer meadows…

When you pulled away, Merry gave you the brightest grin. “What a beautiful name!”

“Thanks,” you laughed, blushing at his smile.

“Now that that’s settled…” He shifted to give you a conspiratorial look. “We’ll get your ragout and juice, and then we can dance and sing together, what do you say?”

You laughed in disbelieve. “What?”

“Yeah! My friends are sitting over there! We can join them and teach you all the songs you need to know in the Green Dragon.” Though Merry’s enthusiasm was unmistakable, he still glanced downward, as though he was nervous about asking this of you. You thinned your lips in order not to smile like a lovebird – he was pretty charming! “I’d love to join you, Merry. Thank you.”

His joy practically exploded: “Great! Great, now then let’s go!”

“What about the ragout…?”

“I’ll teach you to dance first!” he called and took your hand to pull you with him.

.

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

Halflings, or Hobbits, as they called themselves, were a strange little people. When you had crashed into their town last Tuesday, their initial reaction to you had been rather hostile. Especially older people did not want you around, let alone talk to you.

With younger Hobbits however, the story was very different.

Children, insofar their parents wouldn’t hold them back, loved when you came to town to get food and water. They asked if you knew “Gandalf” and all other sorts of names you didn’t recognise. They also whispered secrets into your ear, about this or that sibling of theirs who had a crush on you. While amused, you shrugged it off as children’s nonsense, just the same as in your world. Until… you found a letter by the tree trunk you’ve made your home base. It was a neat and tidy letter, gorgeous handwriting, and even a seal.

Your tall figure and round ears have enchanted me…

It was a love letter! Your heart skipped a few beats – and then you laughed. Hobbits were impossible! And impossibly charming, as it would seem.

Soon you learned that they all had such tidy handwriting and beautiful stationary. The letters multiplied. Each day you found more by your home. It was getting ridiculous – so few would talk to you in person, and then apologise for it in the most beautiful letter you’d ever seen.

One day, when you found another seven letters by your base, a voice stopped you from reading them right away. “Here’s another delivery for ye!”

You turned around to find a boyish Hobbit with dishwater blond curls and blue eyes heading your way. He had a shoulder bag around his turquoise coat and marched straight toward you. You laughed when he did a little tip-toe-dance toward you.

“Wow. Then all of these are yours?” you asked.

“Wha’?” He stopped in his tracks, giving you a wide-eyed look with his lips falling open. “No, no, you couldn’t be further from the truth! Everyone’s been givin’ me letters for you, but none of it my own, I swear!”

You smiled at his charming accent and outraged expression. He even raised his hands in defence, thereby holding up the envelopes he meant to give you earlier.

“So, you’re my little messenger?” you asked, trying to ignore the urge to hug him. He was too precious!

“Somethin’ only a Took would do,” he said with a proud grin. “I bet no one’s asked you out for a bowl of Second Breakfast strawberries in person, right?”

“No?” you went, a bit unsure – was he…?

“Then I’ll do just that,” he grinned, pushing the envelopes into your hands. He smiled up at you so brightly you needed a second to understand.

“Only if you like the freshest, juiciest, reddest strawberries, that is…”

You chuckled. “What a question.”

He jumped a little, beaming like the sun. “One best asked in person, I figured. Come on, then. I’m Peregrin, by the way, but everyone calls me Pippin. Or Pip is fine, too, if you prefer that – Merry sometimes calls me that – you might know him, my first cousin, Meriadoc Brandybuck. I’m also cousins with Frodo Baggins, up in Bag End, I’m sure we can pay ‘im a visit later and play cards, that’d be a blast! And speaking of Bag End…”

Truly, you thought with a blissful smile as you walked down the hill, all that would’ve been a bit much to fit into one letter.

.

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

For Samwise Gamgee, it was an ordinary day to the plant market and back. He was thinking about trying some of that summer lilac this year. The butterflies loved it, and the East side of Bag End could use another arboret anyway. It was heavier to carry than he had expected – but nothing rolled-up sleeves couldn’t handle, even below the warm late afternoon sun. With that, he was on his way back home.

You, on the other hand, were headed in the other direction. One second you were walking down the street, looking at your phone, and then…

A gust of wind made you raise your head. You had to squint your eyes against the suddenly bright and golden sun. Insects chirped around you. You were standing by a field! Below your shoes was a gravelled path, above you the clearest blue sky you’d seen in a while.

Just when you turned around, you bumped into a child coming from around the corner of the high wildflowers – or so you thought. After your initial confusion and an autopiloted “Oh, sorry!”, you realised the stranger was far from a child. Before you stumbled a tanned man with blond curls falling into his freckled face, sturdy and kind. His broad arms, exposed by a rolled-up old-timey shirt, carried a potted plant that he now steadied in-between you.

“Oh, not to worry!” he let you know. He grunted when he realised that raising the plant like this would block your faces. Rearranging it gave you time to further scan him – his feet were naked and big. And very, very hairy – “You’re a halfling!” you realised.

“Aye, sure hope I am,” the man replied. A smile tugged at his lips when his brown eyes met yours. “And you’re a human, as it looks to me.”

You laughed. He was very good at this. Had you wandered into a fantasy festival? “Yeah, um – sorry, again,” you babbled, stealing a glance at your phone. No reception.

“No worries,” he assured you. He tilted his head. “What’s that magic tablet you’re carryin’?”

You were on the verge of replying that this was just a phone, not a tablet, when he instantly straightened his posture. “I mean, not to make any assumptions, but we don’t get big folk visitin’ very often. People might stare if someone walks around with magic stuff, not to mention a beauty such as you.”

“Beauty?” Your heart picked up pace when the halfling looked at you shily from below his dark eyelashes. Your own eyes fluttered. Where were you…? “I was just walking down the street,” you mumble, “and before I knew it…”

“I know the feeling!” the halfling agreed. “One step and you don’t know where you are anymore.”

You studied him – something made you trust him. “Yeah.”

“Were you on your way to Hobbiton then? I can accompany you, very well, if you want to,” he offered you in his simple and charming manner. You couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah. Thank you!”

[sweetnsour1]

10:19

Fluff, x g/n reader (feat. Bakugou & Kaminari)

You blinked back at the sunlight cutting across the patio, slowly seeing more of a silhouette talking to Bakugou. You elbowed him in the side until he nodded as if you’d spoken.

“Oh. Just Kaminari.”

“Just? What kinda’ intro is that.” The blue shades slid back into his hair, showing off the creases around his eyes when his smile widened at you.

“Hel-“

“Sorry, but you are so pretty.” You paused at the interruption, tilting your head to take in his expression and features.

“Oh? Thanks. You’re pretty too.” You turned back to the man beside you. “Gonna grab a drink. See you guys inside?”

“Um…dude?”

“Hmm?”

“Did they just shoot me down or?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.”

You heard the scraping of a chair as you wandered into the building. The air was much cooler than the summer you’d left on the other side of glass. Yet the bakery atmosphere was thick with cinnamon, meeting you with a different sort of warmth. You jumped as a hand wound around your waist. You relaxed into it as you saw the pink skin tone.

“Mina, I almost smacked the shit out of you.”

“Um, you should smack people who grab you.”

The guys caught up as you wriggled loose of your friend’s grip. She squealed just as you broke free.

“I love your earrings!” Your hand flew up to your ears, curious which ones you’d put on earlier. You found the cool surface of clay polymer and laughed.

“Thanks, they’re my new favorites.”

“Mmm, I like ‘em too. Didn’t even notice them at first. Only saw that beautiful face.” You turned your smile to Kaminari as he fell into the seat beside Mina.

“I’ll have to let the guy know he should work harder at the earrings if my face is stealing the attention.” Your eyes darted to the table, seeing she had already started breakfast without you. “I’m gonna grab a coffee. You good?” Mina took a large bite of the muffin she’d been working on and waved you off in the direction of the counter.

“The fuck keeps happening?”

“What? If you spilled on my fur again, I’m covering you in acid.”

“They-dude, I don’t even have anything. What would I spill? Wait… wasn’t I annoyed about something other than you?” You caught the sound of a soft slap. “Ow.”

You took your time looking through the display case and menu, letting their bickering float around you. Mina seemed to have countless faux brothers she bantered with like this.

“Oh, so am I broken or are theyyy?” The blonde’s voice morphed into a whine…very younger brother of him. “I mean, NO reaction? I’m not that fuckin’ low on the hero charts, what’s the deal?”

“Hmm. Maybe they don’t like blondes…or idiots.”

“Shut your-“

You turned just in time to see a pink finger flick a forehead. You sipped at your drink, hovering near the chair they’d left open for you once you reached the table.

“They don’t have a problem with blondes.” You smiled at the way Bakugou chimed in without looking up from his phone. He always seemed to be actively listening to his friends no matter what he was pretending to be more focused on.

“Sorry, kami…they just don’t like you then.”

Bakugou finally looked up at you when you still hadn’t settled into the seat beside him. You shook your drink at him, rattling the ice.

“This is really good. Sure you didn’t want one? It’s a new spiced one.”

“What about meee?” You laughed. The whine still hadn’t left Kaminari’s tone. He really was giving off younger sibling energy.

“Spiced? You seem like you prefer the sugary stuff.”

“You’re so sweet I could skip the sugar.” You hummed, processing the information.

“So you want me to get you a spiced one?”

His mouth fell open. “What? No, I-“ You sat down, watching his desperate gaze fly from a laughing Mina to a smirking Bakugou. “What…is…happening…to me?”

“They’re just not great with that.” You furrowed your brows as a pink hand gave unsolicited head pats, tugging your head away from her reach after she got a couple taps in.

“What does that EVEN mean?”

Someone grabbed your drink from your loosened grip as you swatted at the pink attack that was never ending.

“They didn’t even realize we were dating for a few weeks.” Bakugou took a long sip from your drink. “That is good.”

“Hey! I said I’d get you your own.” You yanked it back, frowning at the new level halfway down the ice. “What’re you guys talkin’ about anyway?”

“How pretty you are.” You rolled your eyes, shoving him out of his chair.

“Haha. Very funny. Go buy me another one of these, you monster.”

“Sure thing, beautiful.” You smacked his hand away as it pinched at your heated cheek. You saw Kaminari’s mouth was open.

“What…is…HAPPENING?” You laughed as Mina pet him like a dog.

“There there.”

Masterlist

Just some mindless bakusquad I guess?//might edit later

[petrichor-idyllic]

aaaa this might be a really lame request, but would it be possible for a minho x reader where she splits up with him when brenda and thomas go back and instead of brenda getting bitten by a crank it was the reader (maybe she got bitten saving brenda) and how he reacts to seeing her get ill / recover? 🥲 seeing an active tmr blog the delivers such good content in 2023 actually made me gasp so like even if you don’t write this, i will be actively reading anything you write!

Oooo I actually really like this idea, of course I'll write it :))

Also I appreciate your continued support, you guys are the best.

Inaccurate dialogue to the films because I'm too busy to watch the movies for reference, but you get the jist.

IN ADVANCE OF GRIEF

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. Fem! Reader x Minho. Movie based fic. You came up with Teresa.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, you nearly die (again)(there's becoming a theme with my Minho fics)(I'm really putting this man through it), the Flare works differently in the movie vers. and all we get are the visual symptoms so I'm making this shit up, WICKED being WCKD because movie.

This wasn't meant to happen.

You just went after Thomas when he ran after Brenda - you couldn't leave him alone with a stranger.

And look where your kindness has gotten you. Biten by a Crank.

You're not really sure how it happened, but when that psycho tried to attack Brenda, you were the one to dive to her rescue. It's a blur, but once that glass broke and Thomas managed to catch Brenda, and you narrowly avoided death- you didn't even notice the pain in your leg.

It's fine.

It's no big deal.

You're probably immune.

You were in the Maze, after all.

The memories of waking up with an unconscious Teresa next to you are only from a few days ago, but now it feels like an eternity.

Though, you thought you were all immune. And look what happened to Winston.

You managed to hide it from your companions, only checking the injury when they weren't looking. But Brenda seemed to catch onto something not being quite right.

You lose Thomas and Brenda in the daze of a party you accidentally got dragged into, though you're pretty sure you see them kiss, (and Brenda get rejected,) before your body hits the floor.

"Rise and shine, shank," Minho gently pushes you awake as your eyes flicker up to meet his. He smiles at you.

Minho.

Minho.

You don't really know when your feelings for him started, especially since you don't think you've ever actually stood still. But whilst Teresa was unconscious and you were having some kind of mental breakdown, Minho made time to make sure you were alright - even with his ventures into the Maze.

Newt had his hands full running the place with Alby out of commission and Gally was throwing a paddy because Thomas had achieved the impossible. So, Minho and the Medjacks were the only ones around to keep you sane.

Maybe if you arrived at a different point, things would be different.

But they're not.

Thomas and Brenda are already awake. Brenda is sitting in a chair, looking forlorn and anxiously glancing at you. Thomas is talking to Teresa, which is also a bitter sight for Brenda.

"What happened?" You grumble, pushing yourself up on your elbows. You've been lying on a pile of cushions on the floor.

"You got wasted at some Crank party, passed out - the klunk you took was stronger than Gally's special brew," he snickers, offering you a hand to pull yourself up. Your eyes flicker up to his face and you smile.

He yanks you up and you stumble slightly. "Woah, easy, girly," he chuckles, placing his hand on the small of your back, stabilising you.

Your head feels foggy from the drugs, but your main concern is the throbbing sensation in your ankle. It stings and pulses, like something is living under your skin.

Minho notices your hesitance as your stomach drops.

You're not immune.

If you were, your whole leg would feel like it's covered in cobwebs and on fire.

Shit. What do you do now?

You don't want to worry your friends, they have enough on their plate. And maybe your body will take more time to fight the infection. Maybe it's too soon to tell.

You're lying to yourself, but it's all you can do.

"Hey, you feeling okay?" You force yourself to smile at him.

"Yeah, yeah, just a bit shucked up - where are we?" You look around the room as Minho lets go of you. There's a man tied to a chair in the middle of the room as Jorge yells at him.

"We found Marcus," Minho says simply.

"That's Marcus?" You and Thomas say in unison.

It's the same guy that spiked you earlier.

You step forward, a jolt of pain slicing you in two, making your leg twist awkwardly and your stomach flip.

"Shuck-! Christ, (Y/N)," Minho jumps to catch you before you manage to catch yourself. "Are you sure you're good?"

"Y-yeah," you try to push out a chuckle, but it comes out as pained. "Think I twisted my ankle before - nothin' I can't handle."

Minho looks unsure, his eyes flickering to your leg and then back up to your face. He can't show how much he cares.

How much he wants to say fuck this and just figure out a way to survive in the Scorch with you. You were gone for one night and now something's wrong - he knows it's wrong but he can't quite put his finger on what.

He's tired of fighting, of running, of everything.

But he figured things would be alright because he had you now.

Brenda moves to let you sit down in the armchair. She's seen it before, and if it were her in your situation, she wouldn't want everyone knowing either. And you proceed to completely zone out.

Too many thoughts swarm your head. Minho. The Flare. The state of your immunity. Who this guy is and how the fuck you're going to actually find the Right Arm.

That's a lot of ground to cover.

So, obviously, you steal a car. Marcus' car, to be more precise.

Bastard deserved it.

You all squeeze in the car, and you're stuck between Minho and Aris. Normally, being this close to Minho would send your brain foggy and have you blushing, but your body is literally rotting from the inside out.

The sickness set in pretty early into the car ride. Then the sweating and fever followed. You're struggling to keep your head up, which is less than ideal when you're trying to act completely normal.

But at least you're not walking.

So, you're less than pleased when you have to stop due to a pile of cars in the road.

You try your best to keep going, but everything everyone's saying is like static in your ears. Everything hurts, and it's a good thing Minho is paying attention when the gunshots start.

He yanks you behind a car with him and Newt - and he's not the only one noticing your state as Newt looks at you.

"What's wrong with her?" Newt asks, like you're not even there despite the current circumstances of being shot at.

"I don't know." Minho says bluntly, eyes scanning you as you lean back against the vehicle.

"You don't think-"

"Slim it, Newt," Minho snaps, "I don't wanna think."

"I'm fine," you say, adjusting yourself. "Just shucked up my ankle, that's all."

"Come on, get up! Up!" You jump out of your skin at the voices of two girls breaking your static state.

Who apparently knows Aris.

Small world, I guess.

Sonya and Harriet lead you through the mountains, shoving you into another set of vehicles and leading you to the Right Arm base camp.

By this point, the world is a blur and direction doesn't matter to you. You're just absent mindedly stumbling in the direction of sound and blurred images of your friends.

You hear Minho say something, touching your wrist but you yank yourself away as it feels like you've been burnt.

Harriet and Sonya introduce you to Vince, whose name you don't even catch.

He gives some speech about checking for infection and how he doesn't trust you all.

And that's when your body caves in and you hit the floor.

"Shit! (Y/N)!" Minho snaps, diving forward to catch you. His knees hit the floor, pulling your upper half onto his lap. He moves strands of hair out of your face - your eyes are sunken, and your face is sweaty, your eyes involuntarily rolling back into their sockets repeatedly as you desperately try to regain soke kind of control.

His heart sinks into his stomach. He knew. He knew something was wrong, and he just let it slide because you said so. And now look at you, crumpled on the floor, unable to breathe. You're seriously ill, and he did nothing to help.

"What's wrong with her?" Vince asks as the Gladers swarm you.

"What's wrong?" Frypan asks. "Minho? What happened?"

"I-I, I don't know," Minho stutters out, "I don't know."

The Gladers repeat your name and the world spirals around you. You look up at the boy who's cradling you.

This is it. This is how you die.

Minho's looking at someone else, his blurred face trying to make sense of everything. You reach out, your fingers brushing against his face - which is easier said than done with the awkward angle and your weak arms.

"Thanks, Minho," you whisper as he looks down at you. "You were always my favourite."

"Shit!" Vince snaps, making Minho jump out of his skin. Vince has moved the piece of cloth from your ankle, revealing the bite in your leg. "She's infected!"

The crowd swarms away as Vince pulls a gun out. Minho tries to shield you, shouting something you can't make out.

He's yanked away by some Right Arm members, fanatically trying to break free.

The Gladers, along with Brenda and Jorge beg for your life.

"Please," Thomas begs, "we can do something- can't you help her?"

"Yeah, I can put her out of her misery," Vince points the gun at your dying body.

"No!" Minho screeches. "Don't! Please! Don't!"

"Stop!" An unfamiliar voice says. "Let him go! Now. What's going on here?"

A woman, Mary, walks over, forcing the men to let Minho free.

"She's infected - we can't help her." Vince explains.

"No, but he can," she smiles at the boy, "hello, Thomas."

Everyone is left confused, but Minho is too busy on the floor by your body again.

Mary explains how she knows Thomas, and that he can make you better again, even just for a little while.

"Get your girlfriend up," she says to Minho, "come on, we'll help her."

"She's not my girlfriend," Minho huffs, slipping his arms under yours and pulling you up, before picking you up bridle style.

Mary looks at him, smirking. "Are you sure?"

He looks at Thomas who simply shrugs.

They follow Mary into the medical tent, Minho lays you on the bed, taking a seat on the far side as he gently plays with your hand. She sets up her equipment and takes blood from Thomas.

"Minho's also from the Maze - couldn't you take his blood?" The boy asks.

Mary sighs. "Well, I'm sure you know by now that not everyone from the Mazes was immune. And I don't know the status of your friends. But I know you are because we used to work closely. Minho's blood might work, but I'm not willing to risk waiting."

It makes sense, and Minho doesn't care about that.

She injects your arm with the serum. She rubs Minho's shoulder. "She should be awake soon. We'll leave you be." She gives him a reassuring smile. "Come on, Thomas. Let's give them some space."

She walks out the tent, but Thomas lingers for a second.

"Did you know?" Minho asks. "Did you know she got bit?"

Thomas simply shakes his head. "No, but I think Brenda did. She didn't seem as shocked." Minho doesn't bother looking at his friend, he just stares at you. "She's gonna be alright, yanno."

"Yeah, but for how long? It doesn't last forever." (Little does he know)

Thomas settles into a silence before sucking in a deep breath. "You love her."

"What?" Minho snaps to finally look at his friend.

"You love her, don't you?"

Minho's jaw tightens, his eyelids fluttering. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out, so he rubs his face with his hands instead.

"You love Teresa," Minho retorts, taking the pressure off himself.

Thomas scoffs. "Yeah - but at least I can admit it."

Minho presses his lips into a thin line. He doesn't exactly like being called out like that.

Thomas exits the tent, leaving him with you.

He looks at you. "He's right, yanno," he mumbles to himself. "I do shuckin' love you. How shucked is that? I've known you for less than a week, and I..." He trails off, not really sure how to put it into words, even just to himself.

So, instead, he leans forward, placing a kiss to your forehead.

Though, he did not expect your eyes to be open when he pulled back. Your eyes flutter, looking up at him. You smile.

"Hi."

"Hey," he chuckles, sitting back in his seat. "You scared the klunk outta me, yanno that?"

"I didn't mean to." You groan, trying to sit up. Your body still feels messed up and groggy, but it's still a massive relief.

"Woah, hey," he shakes his head, pushing you back down. "Take it easy, shank. You nearly died today."

"Yeah, well, it's not like that's anything new."

He glares at you, and you chuckle.

"What did you mean earlier?" He asks after a brief pause.

"Hm?"

"You said I was your favourite," you cringe at that detail. "And you said thank you. For what?"

"For everything," you respond simply. "You looked out for me, so..."

"That wasn't anything special."

"It was to me."

You turn on your side, resting on your arm as you look at him. There's something behind Minho's expression that you can't quite read as be stares at you. It fades as quickly as it came though when he resorts back to his sarcastic ways.

"So, am I really your favourite? Because you seem to like Frypan's food a bit too much."

"What? Fry's cooking is good - you shanks just act too high-and-mighty to appreciate his hard work." Minho fiegns offence, dramatically gasping and putting his hand to his chest.

"Hm, I don't know, there's definitely some favouritism going on there-"

"Slim it," you snort, before dropping your gaze and suddenly becoming serious. "You're my favourite, Minho. You always have been."

He struggles to fight the smirk that crosses his face. "But, I guess I'm yours too, eh?" You grin. "Since you love me, and all."

Minho freezes completely, his face dropping. He blankly stares at you for a good few seconds.

"Ah, shuck," you burst out laughing as his face turns red, his hands coming to cover himself and his embarrassment. "So, you heard me..?"

"Yep, I heard."

"Right, yep, cool - shucking brilliant."

You smile. You've just had a near death experience, so an accidental love confession really isn't fazing you at all. Sitting up, it hurts but you don't care as you throw your legs over the side so you're sitting directly in front of him.

You pull his hands away from his face, taking them in your own. His eyes meet yours and you smile at him. Leaning in, you kiss him on the cheek.

"I love you, too," you mutter, almost into him as you only pull away a bit. He scoffs, and it looks like he's about to say something but his words fail him.

So, he decides to do something else instead. He presses his lips to yours and you immediately kiss him back.

It's short and sweet, and you're both smiling as you part.

"I'm so relieved you're okay," he mumbles.

"I'm always gonna be okay," you kiss the tip of his nose. "I've got you looking after me."

Another cute piece for my main boy.

Requests might be lacking for a bit since I'm away for the next few days but I'm gonna see what I can do.

I hope you enjoyed :))

[gloriouspower]

Hey can you write natasha x reader with the prompts 23, 32, 33, 39 thanks

A/n : it's smutt y'all minors stay the fuck away , alright? I gave my warning so let's proceed

Show me ✯

Pairing : Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary : our sweetheart nat gets jelly over a man flirting with us, so she takes matters in her own hands

Mine 🖤

Warning : smutt, fingering, edging, orgasm denial, jealousy, soft dom nat, sub reader, established relationship.

Word count : 1.5k not proof read.

Note : I'm so sorry for taking this long, my laptop broke and I had to get it fixed so so sorry, here I completed this so fast my god 😭

"word" - dialogue

I sat by the counter with a glass of negroni in my hand while this man, who's name i forgot long ago, kept blabbering in front of me, i needed more than just negroni to deal with this good for nothing shit bag, i sighed internally and gave him a smile on whatever he was talking about, why was I doing this? Well being the caretaker of Avengers came with pros and cons and this was being a HUGE con in my ass.

After pepper stepped up as the stark industries CEO, i interviewed for the caretaker replacement and to my pure shock i got it, it's been 5 years after that, now I'm stuck here in another extravagant tony stark Saturday party he hosts, which i absolutely hate but organize it for him anyway, if i remember vaguely, this man was talking about sponsorship and in any way do we need sponsors right now, because i didn't wanted to come off rude i sat talking to him, which , right now, is giving me a migraine in my right temple.

"So you see, that was my idea, and maybe we can discuss some more about this tomorrow at coffee? My treat " he said smirking, placing his hand on mine, i pulled back but he held it strongly and i was getting uncomfortable, he had made several advances in the "5 minutes" he requested from me, that turned out to be an hour, but i declined them all, and was about to do it again but someone beat me to it "I'm quite sure, she said no multiple times before or are you specially deaf for the word 'no'?" Relief instantly floods in me as i hear Natasha speak, God did i want to get out of here, he looked scared for a moment before he speaks out of pure idiocy "i was asking her, and i don't take no for an answer, so i do not see why you are interfering in between us" and he had the audacity to slip his arm past my waist, i recoiled back, pushing him away but natasha didn't hold back and punched him in the face, that idiot fell to the ground, hitting his head on the hard floor, stumbling to stand up, blood ran down his nose as he blabbered " you bitch, how dare you! Do you know who I am? Fucking bitch" nat just rolled her eyes " i don't give half a fuck who you are, touch my girlfriend again and i won't just stop at a punch" with that she grabbed my wrist, pulling me away, the crowd was staring at the scene we just made, that included tony, who was giving nat thumbs up.

The crowd parted for us and by the time we got to the stairs, nat threw me over her shoulder as i awkwardly smiled at the onlookers, tony was laughing his ass off, when we finally got to our room, she placed me on our bed while looking down at me, i pouted " you didn't have to punch him you know?" She scoffed at that. I propped myself up on my elbows. "I didn't like the way he was staring at you" I laughed as she went to grab something from the cupboard " how do you know?" She turned around trying to form words but nothing came out "umm.. I was looking" It sounded more like a question than an answer but then it hit me and I gasped loudly " were you checking me out?" Her denials fell on deaf ears as I gushed over her, finally I spoke coherent words "were you jealous?" She rolled her eyes at that but i didn't let it fool me, she was jealous, when he was making those advances, heat rushed to my cheeks and southwards as it gave me a weird thrill, she finally replied, pulling me close to her, she already changed into different clothes while i was still in my black cocktail dress " so what? Nobody looks at what's mine in a wrong way, let alone touch you" I blushed, she leaned down kissing the base of my throat, automatically her hand traveling down to my hips. "Oh yeah?" My voice came out much breathier than expected, she cocked an eyebrow up, a devilish smile forming on her face " show me you're mine" and as if on command my hips bucked against hers, she crashed her lips against mine, as ecstasy shot through me.

Nats nimble fingers untied the knots of my dress, pulling down the zip in one fluid motion while her mouth left trails of hickies blooming on my neck, her other hand gathering the fabric of my dress up and pulling down my very soaked panties down, her smirk was almost unbearable to me, i would have scoffed at her if i wasn't squirming under her form for more, my eyes fluttered shut as she slid two digits down my folds, back arching while she teased my entrance, my skin felt hot, sweat forming on my forehead, the dress sticking to my skin, so i took it off completely, leaving my bare body with just the bra on, she tsked "so impatient, huh?" But my mind was already fogged so without saying another word i pulled her in for a kiss, i moaned into the kiss when her fingers finally left the rim and entered completely, i went to grab her side but the shirt she was wearing got in between, frustrated i pulled it off her, she didn't care one bit, keeping the pace steady, pumping her fingers in and out at an agonizingly slow pace, I bucked my hips to get more friction but she stopped entirely, fingers stilling inside me , I whimpered as she said "do not move till I say so, I will let you come when I want you too" her fingers regaining the speed but still not fast enough and I was left blubbering mess beneath her.

»»————-　☠　————-««

Clothes were scattered on the floor long ago, my screams and moans filled our room, if it weren't for the sound proofing, the media would be outside our door by now. I clutched onto her Ruby hair, as she glided her tongue up my slit, sending shivers down my spine, my legs thrown over her shoulder, her nose brushing over my sensitive clit, I was close to my edge, just another push and I'll be tumbling down, the knot in my stomach too tight, i groaned tugging on her hair "nat please" she just tutted against my cunt "you wanted this, now it's either you take what i give you or nothing at all" I whimpered, knowing she'd do just what she said, if I didn't comply, my mind was a mush, her skilled tongue lapping up my juices like a starved man but she did not give me the release, pulling back just enough to leave me groveling for her to go further, hands clamped on my thighs, she sucked on my clit and my back arched in response, my delirious mind swirling in thoughts of nothing but her hands on me, her kitten licks pushing towards the edge yet again, this time i didn't tell her, i was desperate to cum, i needed to but as if she knew what i was doing, she pulled back completely, my hand immediately flying to pull her back but she chuckled, her mouth smothered with my juices as she licked it off her lips.

She climbed on top of me, grinding her hips against mine, stimulating me more and more , my head rolled back , eyes scrunched shut, breathing labored but she had other plans , leaning down near the shell of my ear , her breath tickling me she said " say that you're mine, say it and I'll give you what you need, sweetheart" I whimpered, as quickly as I could I said " I'm yours, please, I'm all yours" she smirked, all the while teasing my entrance with her fingers, finally pumping into me, her fingers skillfully scissoring me inside, brushing my g-spot with every hit, and in no time I was coming on her fingers, the slick gushing out, smearing the already dirty bed sheets, I heaved, riding down my high, as she laid beside me chuckling and licking her fingers, I turned around and buried my face in her chest, her arms enveloping me, she caressed my hair lightly, kissing my forehead, giving me a break from before but before I could even process what's happening she pinned me down again, her voice rough "I'm not done with you just yet" and right then I knew I won't be getting any sleep tonight….

© god-of-mischiefs 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐬

A/n : if you want to be tagged let me know in the comments ☺️

[brighter-by-the-daly]

Jordan Nobbs x Reader

Wingwoman

Posted: 05/05/23 Edited: 09/07/23

Prompt: A Jord and Ona fic, with that interaction on the field included - anon

AN: not Jordan x Ona but the interaction is included. Also Jordan’s ex is not based on Leah as I don’t think she’d act like that ✌️

“Jordan what are you doing?” leaning over the back of the sofa to see your best friend flicking through her ex girlfriend’s Instagram photos again; “this isn’t healthy; it’s been 3 months since you broke up!”. Throwing her head back to look up at you, her eyes in her forehead because she’d heard you say that one too many times. Your words clearly hadn’t sunk in as she’s still stalking her ex, snatching the phone out of her hand and shoving it into your back pocket and walking away. “We’re going out tonight, I’ll be your wing woman” you called back to her from the kitchen, Jordan whined your name in frustration as she watched you swan out of the room “but I don’t want to go out!” she shouted through to the kitchen. “Tough shit, you need to get over her and the best way to do that is getting under someone else” you said as you handed her a glass full of whatever alcohol that was left over from your last house party.

“What about Ona? I saw you two flirting on the pitch the other day” you teased her. “What are you talking about?” Jordan asked trying to cover her cheeks that were turning red, she knew exactly what you were talking about but continued to deny any knowledge of it. Jumping onto the sofa next to her and opening TikTok you scrolled through the copious amounts of edits of the “you were” comment after Jordan was offside. “That wasn’t flirting!” her tone turned defensive “are you sure, cause those eyes guuuurl they ain’t nothing!” shoving your phone into her face. It was hard to deny the clear and obvious evidence of flirty behaviour between them both. “Shut up!” she snapped elbowing you in your ribs as she got up to walk away, soon realising you still had her phone and demanding it back. Standing up you towered over her waving the phone above her head, “when you can reach it, you can have it!” you smirked knowing there was no way your tiny friend would be able to. Folding her arms and glaring at you she knew there wasn’t any point in trying to win her phone back. Jordan being only 5ft3 and you 5ft9 meant you weren’t intimidated by her stance, telling her to find something cute to wear before running away to your room and locking it behind you.

A few hours passed when you returned to the kitchen to mix another concoction before proceeding to Jordan’s room. “You better be ready!” you called out before opening the door, clapping your hands gleefully at the sight of her dressed up and ready to go. Handing her the cocktail of mysterious liquid you ordered the taxi “where are we even going?” she asked while spraying perfume on her neck and wrists. “The only place you need to go to get over an ex.. Coyotes!” - your local gay bar in Birmingham. “I’ve never been to a gay bar!” Jordan seemed a little apprehensive “well there’s no better time than the present is there?” you tipped the glass up from underneath as she sipped so she’d down your awful tasting drink making her wince. “They’re so intimidating!” her whinging had started again and you could not bare it. Walking up behind your friend to untuck the hair from her blazer, you looked at each other through the mirror “Jordy, don’t you always have a good time with me?” your words pandering for compliments of your immaculate track record of nights out. “Debatable!” she scoffed. Your eyes shot daggers at her through the glass until she gave in, “yessss!” she agreed with an eye roll just to shut you up. “Thank you! Now let’s go and find you a wife!”

Leaving the taxi you dragged your best friend into the club. You were so excited when you heard she was transferring to Aston Villa, you’d first met in England’s U15s and have been friends ever since. You’ve never been on the same team before and now you get to live with your bff, winding her up every single day just like you’re both 13 again.

“I don’t know where to put my eyes!” Jordan shouted over the music then looked to the floor to avoid any and all eye contact. Drag queens on the stage, scantily dressed people dancing on podiums… to be fair to her, there was a lot going on. Taking her hand to lead her to the bar, you ordered your first drinks then set up shop by the pool table allowing her to get used the the atmosphere. She only had to keep her eyes on you, the balls and who was winning. You let her win to build her confidence cause that’s what friends do and after a few games and drinks she had warmed up to her surroundings. Taking her blazer off to go and dance, she tried to entice you over with her awful moves while you tried to scout out a good match for her. Laughing from the sidelines you thought she’d never find someone to spend the night with if her dance moves are anything to go by so you went over to help her find her rhythm. Standing behind her and holding her hips to get her into the groove of the music, you then backed off to give her some room to shine.

Your bestie deserves the world and you’re so fed up of her still pining over her ex, you never liked her anyway and didn’t see what Jordan saw in her. She deserves someone who cherishes her and explains the jokes she doesn’t understand, not take the piss out of her. Jordan was always the butt of her jokes, always showing her up in front of her friends and demanded she stayed at the club she was at even though she wasn’t progressing there.

Frustratingly watching on as a few contenders came close but soon backed away when Jordan didn’t talk to them, you made your way back over to her. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” you shouted so she could hear, she shrugged like she didn’t have a clue what you were talking about. “You’re not gonna go home with someone if you don’t talk to them!” you tried to encourage her. “What am I meant to say?” she replied. You were getting fed up with her ‘I don’t have a clue how to be a human being’ act and started responding sarcastically - something Jordan knows all too well happens when you’re frustrated. “Oh I don’t know, anything! You literally said nothing!” your voice now becoming exasperated with shouting over the music. “Okay okay, what about how’s the weather?” she laughed at your expense. She knew exactly what she was doing, she hadn’t got through 30 years of life without knowing how to talk to people. “Oh my god Jord! Weather really gets a girl in the mood! You’re not even trying!” the sarcasm taking over you now, there was no going back - sarcastic bitch is now your personality for the evening. “That’s because I don’t want to try!” she told you forcefully.

If you were a good friend, you’d have stopped pushing. But you’re a great friend, so you didn’t. “Are you seriously telling me there’s no one here you think is remotely attractive?” holding her shoulders and encouraging her to look around. Jordan glanced from the dance floor and to the bar before her eyes dropped back onto you. “Well there is one, I guess..” her voice seemed uncertain but you were glad you were finally getting somewhere. “Great! Tell me who and I’ll set you up” unable to contain the excitement that was brewing with the mission. “I can’t!” she shook her head smiling, breaking your hopes and your patience. “Well just show me then!” your eye widened in pure irritation. Jordan held your gaze for a few seconds until you got impatient and hurried her along with her decision “come on!!”. Taking your shirt into her fist and yanking it down to bring your head closer to hers so she could reach your face, she bravely and unhesitatingly kissed you.

Your eyes still open in shock at what was happening and a look of confusion on your face caused her to stop and break apart from you. Staring at each other in the middle of the dance floor surrounded by bodies, your eyes and mouths wide open in panic. Your blank expression caused Jordan’s face to turn bright red as she turned and sprinted towards the exit. Grabbing your coats and bags you followed her outside into the night, your long legs managing to climb 3 steps at a time meaning you swiftly caught up with her, yelling her name into the darkness begging her to stop. You had no idea where she was heading, just running down the street in the middle of winter without her jacket on.

Luckily you’re a footballer who knows how to keep pace as you grabbed her arm to stop her going any further, spinning round to look at you her words came out so quickly that you barely had time to process what she was saying. “I’m sorry! I don’t know what I was doing, it’s the drink, I don’t want to ruin our friendship!” her head fell into her hands firmly embarrassed about what she’d done. “You don’t need to apologise Jordy, I didn’t know you felt that way about me” you said calmly, placing your hand on her shoulder to reassure her you weren’t judging. “I- I don’t” she stammered which is her tell when she’s lying. Slumping down with her on a nearby bench to try and get the truth out of your friend, liquid confidence now wearing off you wrapped her blazer around her shoulders. “When did this start?” you asked her gently, wanting her to know you’re still her best friend and care about her deeply. “Since I met you” she looked down at her shoes to avoid your eye contact. “That was 17 years ago Jord!” you said shocked that she’d been keeping this in for nearly two decades. “I know! We were young and didn’t know what it meant to love someone, let alone another girl. Then we grew up and went to different clubs and we didn’t see each other as much, we both got in and out of relationships at different times and I thought I’d rather have you as my friend than nothing at all. I didn’t know if you felt the same way and I just didn’t want to jeopardise anything but now we play for the same team, we’re both single, we live together and those feelings just came flooding back. I was looking at her photos to stop myself from thinking about you.” You let her finish what she had to say, it took a lot for you not to interrupt her and when she finally looked up from the floor, you didn’t know how to tell her what you wanted to say. Holding her cheek you brought her face closer to yours, trying this again as your lips locked together, eyes closed and taking your time. Her hands moved into your hair as your second kiss of the night became deeper before pulling apart again. Jordan’s face looking relieved and slightly shell shocked - “I didn’t want to find someone to go home with cause I only ever want to go home with you” she smiled.

[mangoshorthand]

five hargreeves as a dad? Him being a single father and taking care of his daughter; she could be adopted too

(Not his dinosaur age but if he was still a younger adult would be great thanks!)

more on fluff please!

I thought this request was a good opportunity to write a situation I referenced in After We Fall (Hard Feelings part 6) which has been playing on my mind. I went slightly off-book with the request: Five is not a single dad, but he's a SAHD and his wife is only referenced a couple of times. It's not necessary to translate the Italian lines to enjoy the fic, but you might like to. Hope you enjoy.

No Blinking! | Five Hargreeves & 3 y/o daughter Words: 3k

Some parts of the apocalypse were nice. 

Sometimes, when the sunrise hit the earth in just the right way, everything would be bathed in this sweet, rosy glow. He’d lie there, facing the sunrise, and watch the progress of the long shadows thrown by the debris; abstract shapes at his toes which retreated further and further away, the tiny pieces of surviving glass twinkling in the light. 

Every morning, the sunrise fascinated him. It was the middling time between sleep and waking, when his thoughts had not yet formed into coherence. It was evidence he had survived another night. He never knew whether that was a good thing or not: this fact, proclaimed by the sunrise, held both pain and promise. 

On the one hand, another day alone was dawning and another day had gone by in which he’d failed to calculate his way home. On the other hand, there was today’s possibility of success, glimmering illusively in the new light. 

It was impossibly lonely, but it was peaceful, and blessedly quiet.

And, sitting there with blood-curdling screams echoing off the high ceiling, Five couldn’t help but miss that time. 

He was looking down into his sour coffee and trying to imagine being back there, the sun gently warming his cold bones, when a small, familiar voice reached him amidst all the other shrieks. 

“DADDY!”

Five looked up to see his daughter waving at him from the very top of the soft play apparatus. She was waving and smiling at him with the sort of deranged glee that only a little kid can muster. The sight immediately broke through his self-pity and misplaced nostalgia: he smiled and waved back at her, a more pleasant warmth than the apocalypse sun filling him now. 

In a flash of blue light, she appeared at his elbow. 

“Jesus, Aoife!” 

He put a restricting hand on her shoulder and looked around surreptitiously, to check that nobody was watching. There were two moms at the next table, but they were too engaged chatting between themselves and watching their kids. 

“No blinking outside the house! Cosa ti ha detto papà?”

She was looking up at him with his own eyes and his own pout. Her pigtails were loose, hair awry and her upper lip crusty with the ubiquitous snot that always seemed to gather there.

He sighed, grabbed the slightly moist napkin that he picked up with his coffee and wiped her nose.

“No blinking, okay?”

“No.” she said, stubbornly, wriggling away from the napkin. “I’m a big kid now. I’m in charge.”

Five suppressed a smile.

“Oh, okay. That sounds nice. If you’re in charge, then are you going to drive me home?”

“No, papà ” she scoffed, “I can’t drive.”

Five couldn’t keep up the pretense of sternness, unable to resist her little face. 

“Oh,” he said, in mock confusion, “well if you’re in charge and you can’t drive, how do we get home?”

“We get the bus.” she said, decisively.

“We'll get the bus?” he repeated, “Okay. You got the money to pay for the bus, Rockefeller? If you’re in charge then you have to pay, right?”

She considered it for a second or two, and then seemed to decide it wasn’t worth it.

“You know what,” she said, “I was just kidding.”

“So is papà in charge?”

She didn’t answer, but the pout’s return let him know he’d won the argument, (and yes, he did congratulate himself on this. She might be tiny, but she was already a formidable interlocutor). 

“So: no blinking, right?” he said, holding up a single, authoritative finger. 

She nodded and gave a theatrical sigh. 

“That’s a girl,” he said, leaning over and kissing play-warmed head, “now go play.”

“Will you come and play with me?”

“No sweetie,” he said, “Daddy’s too big. And I'm having a sit down.”

She threw back her head with a flourish, all abject frustration and pure drama.

“What the HELL?”

He suppressed a laugh and dismissed her, watching her run back to the play area with a whoop that made it clear his refusal to join her had by no means spoiled her fun.

The attention of the pair of mothers on the table beside him had been attracted at some point during this exchange. They were smiling at both Aoife and him with a strange look of adoring pity.

He noticed it on women’s faces often when he was out with his daughter. He had once, foolishly, imagined that being a seemingly young dad instantly boosted his fuckability by about 300%, but he learned quickly that the real reason was far less flattering. 

He picked up a newspaper probably left by the previous parent sitting here, slowly losing the will to live. The front page yielded nothing interesting: a politician had been up to something sleazy, but what was new? “PAPÀ, GUARDAMI!”

He glanced up to where Aoife had grabbed a tiny, smiling boy by the hand.

“ME AND NOAH ARE GOING DOWN THE SLIDE!”

“Good for you.” he called back, “You and Noah be careful, piccolina.”

He watched as they shuffled their way, beaming, into the tube slide and then emerged at the bottom after lots of giggling and thumping from within. He applauded politely and Aoife, hair flying, grinned back at him, showing all her sharp little teeth.

He tried to return to the newspaper, but could no longer pretend to ignore one of the women from the next table over, trying to catch his eye.

He looked up and gave her what he hoped was a polite but quelling smile.

His hope was not answered.

“How old is she?” the woman asked, smilingly, jumping on his acknowledgment.

She was thin, blonde and green-eyed. Mid thirties, he’d guess. Pretty too, he noticed, though in a detached way. Her friend, a brunette wearing a yellow blouse, seemed to be assessing him as if she didn’t fully trust his presence.

“Three years, seven months,” he said, shortly.

“Awh,” she said, politely, “Noah turned three in September. It’s such a nice age, isn’t it?”

Five looked back up to the ballpit where Noah, white-blonde like his mother, was shrieking with laughter as Aoife smashed two balls together in time to the raucous melody she was singing.

“Cute kid,” he commented. 

“Thank you.” she smiled, “So is…”

“Aoife,” he supplied.

“What a lovely name,” she said.

He nodded and tried to look away, but the yellow-bloused woman called back his attention.

“So you’re Italian?”

“No. I just speak it. I taught her and now we speak it together. She speaks a little Spanish too.”

“Have you considered what it might do to her speech development?”

“Does her speech seem under-developed to you?” Five asked, eyebrow raised, “It didn’t do my speech any harm: I bambini di tutto il mondo sono bilingui e se la passano bene. Potrei dirti di andare a farti fottere in sette lingue."

The women smiled uncertainly, clearly not understanding the last part of his speech. He continued as if he was translating:

“Multilingual children have developmental advantages over monolingual. I’m fluent, so why not give her that advantage?”

They both nodded their acceptance of this, and Five was just feeling he might have shut them up, when the blonde spoke again.

“So, is it Mommy’s day off?” 

This piqued Five enough that he looked up from his newspaper.

“No.”

“So you’re a single dad?” the brunette asked, her expression softening as she looked at him.

Five smirked, and a memory of Klaus floated to the surface of his mind. 

“Yup. I was young when I had her. I don’t even know who the mother is.”

He looked up, and the women were looking at him. There was a second or so of confused silence before Five put them out of his misery.

“That was a joke. My wife works.”

“Ah, so Daddy’s babysitting?”

“No,” he said, with a smile that tried extremely hard to hide his irritation, “Daddy’s parenting.”

With effort, he managed not to add: ‘dumbass’ to the end of that statement.

Both the women nodded earnestly, and the way they did it told Five they were probably the type to admire his stance on the surface, but underneath still pity him: convinced he was a hapless male incapable of lone childrearing for periods longer than an hour. 

“And do you manage okay?” asked the brunette.

“Well, Aoife’s still alive,” Five said, coldly, “I’ll take that as a win.”

Noah’s mother laughed, (somewhat sycophantically in his opinion), and her friend eyed Aoife critically for a few moments, lingering on her messy hair before speaking again.

“I’ll show you how to braid her hair.” she said, with the air of one taking control of a dire situation.

“No thank you,” Five said, shortly.

Noah’s mother stepped back in, tilting her head placatingly and speaking to what she imagined was his misplaced pride.

“I swear, you’ll never look back. It’s so good for keeping it out of her eyes.”

Five fought to keep his irritation contained, and his eyes found Aoife, throwing herself between two squashy funhouse rollers with a loud ‘Ooof!’

The sight gave him the grounding he needed.

He couldn’t lose it at these two moms, because then he’d have to leave. If Aoife was going to sleep tonight, she needed to run off all this energy. 

Not to mention the fact she was having the time of her life. 

He looked back at the women, his patience renewed:

“I can braid hair just fine. She just hates them. Hates having them done, hates having them in, screams like you’re pulling out her fingernails if you try.”

Five had, in fact, pulled out many fingernails in his time, and the similarity was disturbing. 

“Oh,” the brunette said, apparently disappointed at being denied an opportunity of dictating to him. 

As she sat down, and Five’s eyes sank thankfully to an article about the reformation of a blues band, Noah’s Mom asked.

“Is your wife a career gal then?”

“I guess,” he said, “she works hard.”

“That’s so admirable.” said the blonde - though he got the sense she didn’t really mean it. 

Her eyes moved over to her son as she continued.

“I just don’t know how she does it. I just couldn’t leave him to be brought up by someone else.”

Five felt himself becoming quite seriously annoyed. 

“Aoife’s being brought up by both her parents.”

“Of course, of course. But every girl needs her mom.”

Five took a sip of his coffee.

This shit was old news. He encountered it too often, whether it was this specific flavor of bullshit or the type where he got nasty looks at the playground as a lone male. He cleared his throat and hoisted a smile onto his face.

“So where’s Noah’s dad today?” he asked, leading her into a trap whether she was aware of it or not.

“He works too.”

“Oh.” Five said, trying to keep his smile playful rather than antagonistic, “So does every boy need his dad?”

As Noah’s Mom and her friend sputtered, Five held up a hand and continued.

“As long as a kid’s with a parent that loves them, it doesn’t matter if they’re a woman, man or hyper-realistic robot. Now,” he said, gesturing firmly to his newspaper, “if you don’t mind - ?”

He was glad that the women seemed to accept his request for solitude, and even happier when they went to get coffee and moved to a different table.

The next thirty minutes passed silently (as silent as it was possible in an echoing room full of shrieking kids), with Five flicking through his newspaper and glancing up to check on his daughter every few minutes. He was engrossed in an op-ed on the latest labor strikes when one shriek in particular drew his attention.

This shriek was distinct from happy play shrieks.

He looked up, and there was Aoife on the floor at the top of the netted play apparatus, bawling her head off with cries so high-pitched that soon only dogs would be able to hear. 

He looked around surreptitiously. Nobody was watching, Aoife was the only kid in that area and there was plenty of cover. He stood, took a few steps towards the play area and concealed himself behind a brightly-coloured padded pillar and thrust himself into the static electricity of a spatial blink. He emerged strategically, stooping behind a giant firetruck. He ducked out from behind it and approached his daughter at a crouch, unable to stand in the confined space.

Aoife was sprawled out on the soft floor, watching him approach through red eyes. 

She might be hurt, he thought, but she was tired too, and these tears seemed more linked to that. 

“What happened, bambina?”

With a gulp of air in between each word, she answered:

“I - fell - off!”

He dropped to one knee and scooped her up, pulling her dress down to cover her butt as he did so. 

“You hurt, sweetie?”

“Yes,” she said, the rate of her tears already slowing as he pulled her onto his knee, “I hurt my leg!”

She pointed forlornly to her left knee. Five took a quick survey- there was a small red mark from impact  - probably against the firetruck - but it seemed fine otherwise. 

He held her briefly to his chest and kissed her forehead, rubbing her leg with the palm of his hand, the warmth of his skin soothing away the pain. 

“Daddy’s got you, little one. You’re okay. Can you bend your knee for me?”

Aoife bent her leg with ease, though still sniffled in his arms.

“Okay,” he said, seriously, with the air of one performing serious diagnostic tests, “now, can you wiggle it for me?”

Aoife looked seriously down at her leg and wiggled it. 

“Excellent,” Five said, keeping his features schooled into mock-concentration. “Now, can you just put your finger on your nose for me?”

Aoife did so, looking up at him in confusion.

“Hm.” he said, lowering his eyebrows as if at an unexpected medical outcome, “Just let me try that.”

Aoife moved her finger and he prodded her nose.

“Honk.”

Aoife’s serious face broke, and she sniggered.

“There we go, see?” Five said, pressing her nose again, “Honk! - You just gotta press it hard enough, you’re fine.”

Aoife giggled and fell against his chest with an ill-coordinated thump. She rested her head against him, rubbing her face into his sweater.

You’re dumb.” she said, affectionately, “and bad.”

“Charming.” he said, stroking her hair, “Dumb I’ll accept - you got me on that one. But why am I bad?”

“You said no blinking.”

Five smiled as he pulled her onto his hip, stooping his way to the exit. 

“I’m allowed to blink in public.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m grown-up.”

“That’s not fair.”

“True, but I’m afraid life’s not getting any fairer than this, bambina.”

“That makes no sense!”

Five chuckled and held her closer, finally straightening up and heading back to their stuff over at the table. 

“We’re gonna go now. Mommy will be home soon.”

Aoife grumbled slightly, but he bribed her with a promise to play her Turvytown playlist on the way home, (as much as it pained him to put himself through it again). As a result, she allowed him to place her down and assist her in putting on her coat with a good grace. 

“It’s not fair rules that daddy can blink outside but I can’t.” she said, thoughtfully.

“I know,” Five said, grabbing his jacket and folding up the newspaper for the next beleaguered parent who might sit there, “but lots of people already know that daddy can blink. It's no biggie if they see me - but we don’t want them all knowing you can.”

“Why not we just tell them?”

“Because -” he faltered, “because it’s better if it stays a secret.”

He took her hand, folded his own jacket over his arm and lead her towards the parking lot, where 

“A secret? Like Daddy’s birthday present?”

“No,” he said, leading her outside by the hand, “not like Daddy’s birthday present, because you told me what that was the day Mommy bought it. You have to actually keep this secret, kiddo.”

“Okay.” she said. 

When they got to the car, he leaned over to help her with her car seat, but she slapped his hands away.

“I want to do it.”

“Sure,” he said, letting his hands fall into his pockets, watching her with interest. With a few minor grunts, she clicked the belt home and looked back at him, satisfied.

“See? I’m a big kid.”

“You sure are.” 

He looked back at her; into his own eyes in miniature. He felt the familiar rush of serotonin as he did so. He’d always had a soft spot for kids, but Aoife was different.

He loved his wife, sure, but his love for Aoife was in an entirely different league. She delighted him - there was no other word for it. Having her in his arms was just…right. It wasn’t rational, he knew that, but it didn’t make it any less true.

She made him more aware than anything else of his animality: his love hit him like a kick in the gut - it was something that pulled hard on a cord deep in his stomach. The first time she was put into his arms, he felt his foundations tremble, crumble and reform. He was enamored - totally and utterly. If anyone ever tried to hurt her…

Proud of herself, she smiled at him. It emphasized her cherubic cheeks, still pink from the chill outside. She was perfect. There had surely never been any child so perfect.

He leaned over and hugged her silently, pressing his angular jaw against one of those plush cheeks. He closed his eyes and inhaled.

She even smelled like his. 

“Love you, kiddo.”

Aoife suffered her father’s fervent hug for a few seconds before getting impatient.

“You gonna drive already?”

Five laughed, pressed a kiss to her cheek (which she wiped away with the back of her hand) before closing the car door and heading around to the driver's door.

“What, am I your goddam chauffeur now?” he murmured to himself, smilingly.

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Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed): @thebearmage, @nevbrooke-555

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I take Five requests, I'm fairly versatile in what I write (fluff, smut, angst, psychological character study- I'll try it all) but I will consider them on a case by case basis. See masterlist for request status and more.

[whatsnewalycat]

Passenger / Chapter 5

Pairing: Trucker!Din Djarin AU x OFC Charlie Wanderlust

Chapter Five: Wyoming (Part Two)

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Chapter Summary: Charlie and Din test the waters.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 7.8k+

Content / Warnings: yearning, horny thoughts, anger problems, crying, food mention, handcuffs, hi yes the only one bed trope is alive and well, unlike the Titanic (it's relevant I promise), small town, lying, fictional town, sorry to Wyoming-ites if I got WY all wrong, (Bernie Sanders voice) I am once again talking about The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman

Notes: Howdy, howdy. We are balls deep in the yearning with this one, folks. Thank you @frannyzooey for proofreading and being the literal best, I appreciate you endlessly.

Just like Paul promised, The Jackalope Motel is conveniently located straight across the county road from Giddyup Auto. 

The single-story, L-shaped motel, whose faded roadside sign advertises low weekly rates and color TV, shares a gravel parking lot with a two-pump gas station. Its brick exterior is painted a pallid shade of yellow, all ten room doors varnished with this glossy teal finish. 

Nestled into the elbow of the building sits a white screen door with the words MOTEL OFFICE printed on the front. 

Din departs from your side to hold the door open, an action you assure yourself is rooted less in chivalry than it is him not wanting to turn his back to you. A loud creak sounds from the battered door and announces your arrival. The dog charges through the threshold, pulling his leash taut in your grip as you step inside the cramped, wood-paneled office. 

An elderly woman perks up on her barstool behind the front desk. She stubs out her lit cigarette in a nearby ashtray and calls in a husky voice, “Howdy, howdy.”

“Hi there,” you smile, glancing back at Din to determine who will take the lead in this interaction.

He does, taking three wide strides past you to the counter. As he moves through the room, a thick sea of smoke parts for him, churning and dancing in his wake.

“We need a room. Two nights for now.” 

The gray-haired woman pulls the glasses hanging on a chain around her neck onto the bridge of her nose, “Let me see here…”

At your feet, the dog sniffs his surroundings. He follows an invisible trail to a tattered plaid couch. You follow, listening to Din and the motel manager discuss lodging arrangements. 

“I got a couple two three rooms open, I can stick you in one away from the rabble rousers. Somethin’ more private,” she winks at him. 

His back straightens and he holds up a hand, “Do you have anything with two beds?”

The mischievous look on her face flattens and she raises her eyebrows, looking down at her books with a frown, “‘Fraid I don’t.” 

Din looks over at you, his face blank, eyes inscrutable behind his aviators, then turns back to the woman and gives her a nod, “Anything you have is fine, then.”

He takes out his wallet as she starts getting paperwork together. You gravitate towards a wall of faded, dusty brochures that advertise Western Wyoming’s finest tourist traps, including, but not limited to: a cowboy-themed amusement park, guided tours of mountain ranges and caves, horseback riding expeditions, and hot springs. 

“What brings y’all to town?” 

When you turn to Din, he gives you a mild, one-shouldered shrug, so you tell her, “His rig broke down about an hour from here. Paul—do you know Paul?”

She chuckles and nods, “I’ve known Paul since he was in diapers. Used to watch him for his momma while she was at work.” 

“No kidding?” you approach the tall front desk, propping your elbows up on the counter, “He’s fixing the truck. Really nice guy, referred us to this place ‘cuz we don’t know how long it’ll take.” 

“Can I get your ID, hun?” she asks Din, who complies without comment, then she glances up at you while jotting down your companion’s information, “He’ll get y’all fixed up good. We got a few things to do ‘round here if you get tireda bein’ holed up here. A few parks, some trails. There’s a fella that has a ranch just on the outskirts of town, he does horseback riding, if that squeezes your lemon. Downtown, we got some bars, coupla places to eat ‘n’ all that,” she hands the ID back to Din, sighing, “Nothin’ fancy, but better ‘n nothin’ at all.” 

“We don’t need fancy,” you grin at Din, who does not return the sentiment, then ask the motel manager, “What’s your name?” 

“Annie.”

“I love that name,” you smile, “Annie Get Your Gun.”

She smiles, too, toothy and wide, revealing her too-perfect teeth–obviously dentures–and says, “You know, I was actually named after her. Annie Oakley.” 

“That’s awesome. A fantastic namesake, she was a true badass.” 

“She sure was,” Annie nods and takes the glasses off her face, letting them drop around her neck from the glasses chain, “Well, the room comes to $59 per night, plus taxes and fees, ends up runnin’ closerta $75. Do you wanna settle the tab for two nights now, or see if you needta tack on more and take care of it at checkout?” 

You look over at Din, who answers, “We can settle at checkout.” 

“Fine with me,” she swivels on her little stool and stands to grab a key off the wall behind her, “We got an ice maker and vending machine outside the door here, don’t be too loud, and pick up after yer dog. Any questions?” 

She slides a key across the counter, whose big turquoise keychain reads 10 in metallic gold, and glances between you and Din. He grabs it, and you respond, “No ma’am.”

“Alright, well, let me know if y’all need anything.” 

“Will do, thank you, Annie,” you give her a polite wave before following Din outside, pulling the dog along behind you. 

The room smells of bleach and water damage. 

Much like the office, its walls are all wood-paneled with a dull oak finish. A framed painting of a bunny with deer antlers hangs above the queen sized bed. As you try to untangle the leash from your guitar and backpack, you nod at the painting and chuckle, “A jackalope.” 

Din grunts in response. He tosses his backpack on the bed, then turns to the dog, crouching down to unclip his leash from the collar. The dog reacts like he’s hit with a cattle-prod and goes zooming around the motel room in a lop-sided oval. 

You start giggling as he tears over the bed, to the bathroom door where he makes a U-turn and speeds past the dresser, then your feet, then Din’s, then does it again, around and around until he runs out of steam. He comes to rest on the fireproof, floral bedspread, circa 1984, and leans back on his haunches, panting and out of breath, tongue hanging out of his jowls, glancing between you and his person. 

“Feel better?” Din asks him, and he sneezes. 

You go to the window, pulling the top pane down to let crisp October air spill into the room, carrying with it the earthy scent of organic decay. When you close your eyes and inhale, you see piles of raked-up maple leaves, those big mosaics of orange and red and yellow and brown, hiding rot underneath. It reminds you of home. 

You turn to your captor, who seems to be inspecting the bathroom. He flicks the bathroom light on and peeks inside while you release an exaggerated sigh, “So, Din.”

He brings his attention to you and leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms, raising his eyebrows in question.  

“That is your name, right?”

“It is.” 

A smile spreads across your face. 

The fact that you’re able to put a name to this man, brings you a surprising amount of joy. He seems less like a force now, and more like a person. Which, you suppose, is probably why he didn’t formally introduce himself before shoving your face into a trailer door and abducting you. 

“Great, well—Din, it’s nice to actually meet you,” you cross the room and extend your hand to him. All he does for a moment is stare at it, until you tease, “Aw, come on. I don’t bite.” 

“Maybe I do.” 

Your lips part and you blink at him. When the corner of his mouth turns up in a smirk, your face transforms into a heater. This whole situation would be a lot easier if he wasn’t so handsome. 

RULE #3: Keep your wits about you. 

“Funny guy,” you snort, rolling your eyes in feigned annoyance, but continue to hold your hand out to him. 

He takes it and gives it a firm shake. His palm is warm and calloused and his grip seems to swallow yours. Even though he’s wearing those stupid sunglasses, you can tell when his eyes meet yours because a jolt shoots through the middle of you. Your throat tightens and your cheeks get even hotter. 

Before he can tell how flustered you are, you take your hand back and retreat to the bed, plopping down to scratch the dog as you ask, “What now? Do you wanna go explore this podunk town?” 

“No. We’re staying here. The less we’re seen, the better.” 

You groan and throw yourself back onto the bed. There’s a yellow-tinged water stain on the ceiling that almost looks like a face if you squint and tilt your head a little. It brings to mind this short story of a woman slowly losing her sanity while on “rest cure” to treat her depression. She’s forced to do absolutely nothing, and starts to see figures in the yellow wallpaper of her bedroom. 

Granted, your situation is much different than the one Charlotte Perkins Gilman penned, but you still feel a sense of solidarity with her protagonist’s captivity. You feel antsy. Cooped up. The thick layer of grime on your skin becomes hard to ignore, and you remember it’s been a week since you last bathed. 

“Can I at least shower?” 

When he hesitates to respond, you can’t stop yourself from sitting up and scowling at him, “Seriously?” 

“There’s a window in the bathroom.” 

You stare at him blankly, “So, what, you think I’m going to—”

“Yes.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you get to your feet and stomp past him into the very retro, very pink bathroom, yanking the shower curtain open to inspect the window. 

In all fairness, you could climb out of it if you really wanted to, but you still roll your eyes and tell him, “Probably can’t even fit through there.” 

He just stares at you, unmoved. 

Frustration simmers in your stomach. All that’s standing between you and the sweet relief of a shower is his lack of trust. There has to be a middle ground. 

“What if—” your mouth clamps shut. You shift your weight from one leg, to the other, then shrug, “Would it make you feel better if you were in here while I showered?” 

Din’s lips part, stunned for a moment before he carefully says, “Better isn’t the right word—”

“Ok, well, feel free to substitute ‘better’ with ‘more secure,’ or ‘reassured,’ or whatever. You know what I mean.” 

He studies the window for a moment, the muscles in his jaw wiggling as he considers the compromise, then looks back at you and nods, “Sure.”

“How long will this take?” 

From behind him, Din hears you wrestle clothing off your body into a pile on the floor as you say, “Five minutes, tops.” 

The faucet squeaks, then the water comes to life with a stuttering hiss. Twin metallic swooshes signal the shower curtain being pulled open, then shut, then you moan, “Fuuuuck that’s so good.” 

His imagination bucks out of his control, and for a moment the only image in his mind can conjure is his body pressed up against yours, skin on skin. How soft and warm you must be. How those words would taste on your lips. All the ways he could make you utter them again and again. 

He thinks of your stubbornness, your defiance, and wonders what it would be like to break you. Would you like it? 

I am not a good man. 

Din squeezes his eyes shut and tries to flush out the deviant thoughts, reminding himself of the handsome bounty he’ll collect when he turns you over. The peace that financial security will bring him. He won’t have to live job-to-job with a white-knuckle grip on existence. He’ll have room to breathe. Maybe he’ll even be able to live a little. 

Your honeyed voice pulls him out of his tail-spin. 

“Blackbird singing in the dead of night. Take these broken wings and learn to fly…”

Din opens his eyes and stares at the bathroom door, shaking his head in amusement, thinking, Of course you sing in the shower.

It’s sort of nice, though. He doesn’t mind it. In fact, he kind of likes it. 

Grogu, obviously feeling left out, scratches at the other side of the door, then lets out a disgruntled whine.  

You stop singing and ask, “Is that the pup?” 

“Yeah.” 

The shower curtain rings squeak, then your voice is right next to him, “Let him in.” 

Without thinking, he turns to you and scoffs, “No.” 

Water drips off the ends of your sudsy white-blonde hair onto his boot. Your features pinch into a scowl, dark eyes searching his face, “What, why not?” 

His gaze flicks to the blur of skin barely concealed behind the shower curtain, then to the pink tiled floor as heat rises to his face, “He’s just gonna jump in there and get wet.” 

“So?” 

“He’ll stink up the room.”

You snort, “You’re already doing that.“

Din goes to glare at you, but corrects himself and glares at the ceiling instead, “Sure that’s not you?” 

You let out an exaggerated gasp that quickly dissolves into laughter, “You asshole.”

He looks down at the doorknob and shakes his head, stifling a chuckle. 

“So rude,” you tease as you slide the curtain closed and step back into the steaming shower stream, “Come on, big guy, let the pup come in. He can’t possibly stink more than I did.” 

Grogu scratches at the door again, this time letting out a sharp bark instead of a whine. 

“Awww, listen to him,” you say, the pout evident in your voice, “So lonely, he just wants to be with us.” 

Din rolls his eyes and twists the doorknob to let him in. The dog barrels into the room, skittering across the shiny, bubblegum pink ceramic into the empty garbage can. It goes toppling over, and he uses it like a bumper to correct his course towards the tub. He stands on his hind legs and peaks behind the shower curtain, then woofs for your attention. 

“Hello handsome boy!” 

Grogu starts panting with excitement, his nails clacking on the floor and the porcelain tub. 

“Oh my goodness, do you want to come in here with me?” 

He barks. 

Din protests, “Don’t—”

“Ok, ready, here we go.” 

Both you and the dog groan a little when you lift him, then Din hears clattering and splashing as he lands in the tub and starts flailing around in the water. A sharp giggle pierces his eardrums, making him wince, but there’s such an abundance of joy in your laughter and the dog’s playful growls, Din catches it secondhand and ends up smiling like an idiot. 

“Look at you, happy pup! You love the water, don’t you?!” 

Grogu lets out a low bow-wow and sneezes, which you respond to with a squeal of delight. Something tender and warm blooms in Din’s chest. Just as soon as he realizes its fragility, he stomps it out, snipping over his shoulder, “Are you almost done?” 

The water shuts off with a loud clunk from the faucet and you respond, “Yep.” 

Din ends up trying to dry off the wet, rowdy dog while you dig through your backpack. 

“Do you think there’s a laundromat here?” 

He glances up at you, eyes briefly trailing along the outline of your body beneath the fluffy white towel before he clears his throat, then says, “I don’t know.” 

You sniff one of the sweatshirts from your backpack, shrug, and toss it onto the dresser. 

“We should check. Everything in here is fucking rank,” you mutter while inspecting a pair of dark pants.

The dog zooms past, drawing Din’s attention, and he manages to scoop him up into a towel, “Gotcha!” 

Whining and throwing his weight around like a fish out of water, Grogu tries to escape as Din dries him off. You turn and snort at the dog, “Good luck, I’ve been trying to do that for days,” then pad across the faded, low-rise carpet to the bathroom. 

Din glances up at the oval-shaped mirror mounted to the wall, catching a glimpse of your reflection as you drop your towel. Stunned, he fumbles the task at hand and the dog flies from his grip like a bat out of hell. 

“Shit,” he mutters, propping his hands on his hips, watching the little white dog torpedo from one end of the room to the other. 

“This probably feels like wide open spaces to him after being cooped up in the truck, huh?” you chuckle from the bathroom. 

His eyes betray him, flicking to your reflection again. At least you have pants on this time, the waistband of tight black leggings nestled into the dip of your waist. He studies the curve of your spine up to a compass tattooed between your shoulder blades. You pull a baggy maroon sweater over your head and spin around before he can look away. Shame creeps hot up his neck and makes him drop his gaze. 

If you caught him staring, it doesn’t show. You just trot past him and throw yourself onto the old, squeaky mattress, stacking one foot atop the other as you stretch out. 

Grogu breaks out of his orbit to hop up onto the bed and climb in your lap, tongue hanging from one side of his mouth. A giggle chirps up your throat, and you scratch between his ears, “Do you two have a home base, or just the truck?” 

“Just the truck,” Din answers, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall. 

“Oooh a coupla rubber tramps,” you grin, “It’s fun, right? Nomad life?”

He tilts his head at you. 

Is that why you do this? Because you think living on the road is fun?

His lack of response tugs at the arch of your brow. You look around the room, releasing a sigh through slack lips, making a pfpfpfpf sound, then ask, “Well, whaddya wanna do?” 

Din pushes off the wall and starts towards an armoire that looks heirloom or at least second-hand, swinging open its solid oak doors to reveal an old tube TV. A shelf at the top of the cabinet stores a VCR and a few tapes. 

“Finding anything fun?” 

He reads movie titles off the faded VHS sleeves, “The Wedding Singer, Titanic, Pocahontas, Men in Black.”

“Anything you like?” 

“I’m not much of a movie person,” he admits in a murmur, and casts a glance over his shoulder, “Do you have a preference?”

“Not really,” you shrug, “I’m not much of a movie person, either. You pick.” 

Din swings his gaze back to the armoire, wrinkling his nose at the options, then pulls out the double-barreled VHS of Titanic and pops in the first tape. 

After feeding the movie into the VCR, your captor goes to the little two-person dining room table in the corner of the room and grabs one of the chairs, carrying it over to the opposite side of the bed. You watch him the whole way, eyebrows raised, blinking with annoyance when he sits in the chair and kicks his feet up onto the bed. 

“You’re really gonna watch a movie like that?”

He glances over at you, crossing his arms over his chest, “Like what?” 

“With your whole,” you circle your wrist around your ear, “Incognito thing. Plus, boots? You can like… be comfortable, did you know that?” 

His mouth flattens into a line. A few awkward seconds go by before it clicks and you nod in understanding, “But you can’t be comfortable around me, can you?” 

He doesn’t answer. Not that you expect him to. 

You grab the remote control off the nightstand and turn up the volume. With previews still running on the TV, you sigh and pull a pillow out from the cheap bedspread, plumping it up and adjusting yourself into a more relaxing position. 

“I get it,” you mumble at the screen, “You think that in order for you to maintain this power dynamic, you can’t show belly.”

“Is that what I think?” 

When you look over at him, he seems to be studying you through the tint of his aviators. You ask, “Isn’t it?” 

He doesn’t answer. Probably because he doesn’t want to admit you’re right. Better than him giving you some bullshit contrarian retort, you suppose, but his silence still burrows gritty between the layers of your skin. 

“Whatever, man,” you scoff and roll your eyes, “If you wanna sit way over there in your stupid getup, that’s your decision, but it seems pretty fucking miserable for no good reason.” 

His jaw gnashes back and forth a bit before he sits up and takes off his hat, tossing it onto the nightstand, then his sunglasses. His dark eyes meet yours, “Better?” 

You look at his black leather boots. 

He sighs and drops his feet to the ground, bending over to remove the boots one at a time. When he returns to his previous position, arms crossed over his broad chest, socked feet propped up on the bed, you suppress a grin and turn back to the movie.

"I believe you may get your headlines, Mr. Ismay." 

Beneath the thick, curved glass of the TV, the first VHS runs out of tape. Out of the corner of his eye, Din sees you sit up and throw your legs off the bed. Grogu croaks out a sleepy sound from beside you, rolling onto his back. You rise to your feet, asking, “Can we get something to eat before starting the second tape?”

Din glances down at his watch. 4:30. His stomach rumbles. Given the unpredictable twist this day has taken, food has largely remained at the back of his mind until now. 

“We could walk further into town and see what we find. I bet the pup has to go potty, anyway. We could take him with us. Maybe Annie can give us a recommendation—”

He looks over at you to respond, but finds himself momentarily tongue-tied. You stretch your clasped hands skyward, pulling the hem of your sweater up to expose a generous slice of your midriff. You’re still distracted as rambling he stares, unable to stop his thoughts from returning to how soft and warm you must be. 

His hungry skin aches, deep and throbbing, down to the marrow.  An infection festering for years. Or longer. Decades, really. 

He tries to recall how long it’s been since he felt the heat of another person. It was snowing, he remembers that much. She was one of those women that made her way around truck stops selling pleasure to lonely guys like him. Lot lizards, some of the truckers called them. 

Was he in Colorado? Or was it Ohio? 

He remembers the excruciating quiet as she stripped off her snow-clotted outer layers, revealing a petite brunette with wary eyes and a businesslike attitude. Not that he holds those things against her. It’s understandable. Advisable, even, given her line of work and clientele. 

Her company didn’t do much to quell his hollow yearning for intimacy, but it was a release nonetheless. 

“—So, what do you think?”

Din snaps out of the trance and meets your eyes, all warm and hopeful. 

Goddamnit. 

“You stay right next to me the whole time.” 

“Do I get a treat if I’m good?” you smirk, one eyebrow raising in challenge. 

The question bubbles hot at the base of his spine. He tries to keep his countenance neutral when he says, “We’ll see how you do.” 

Grogu waddles over to the side of the bed closest to him and yowls for attention. Thankful for the diversion, Din reaches over and scratches the dog between his big ears, “Both of you.” 

The dog sniffs the sidewalk a few feet ahead of you and Din, tethered to his owner by a leash. He zig-zags back and forth, completely engulfed in the sights and smells of this brand new world. 

You find yourself in a similar state of awe and appreciation. Tilting your face up to the big cotton candy sky, you inhale two lungfuls of the most refreshingly crisp air you may have ever been blessed to receive. Yellow Seed was built in a valley, and it seems like everywhere you look there are mountains in the distance, dark and evergreen and ominous. A stark contrast to whatever magic is happening in the atmosphere. 

The world feels so infinite and beautiful that if you let yourself, you could cry about it. 

Too caught up in the moment to pay attention to your gait, you knock hands with Din. The impact makes your heart jump. You hear yourself stammer out an overreaction, “Oh shit—sorry, I um, didn’t mean to—”

“Might help if you stop daydreaming.” 

“What’re you, my mother?” you scoff under your breath, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“What’s that?” 

You glance over at him. 

His smug smirk draws your attention briefly before you shake your head and change the subject, “Have you seen Titanic before?” 

“Can’t say I have.” 

“What made you pick it?”

He shrugs, “Long run time.” 

“Shut up, that’s not the only reason, is it?” you laugh, “It’s not because you get to see Kate Winslet’s tits or anything, right?” 

His head jerks back a little and his ears turn all red, “What? No—”

“I’m just giving you shit,” you snort. 

He exhales an airy chuckle, and a few seconds go by before he asks, “What about you? Have you watched it before?” 

His cadence is halting and rusty. Out of practice. You can tell he doesn’t make conversation often, but he’s trying and that’s… sort of sweet, actually. 

“I have, but it’s been years. I think I was a kid, maybe six or seven, when I watched it with my grandma at her house,” you smile fondly at the memory, kicking a rock along the sidewalk, “She made me cover my eyes during the nudity and sex and stuff, but I totally peeked.” 

“So you’ve always been a troublemaker.”

“I guess so, huh?” you chuckle. 

The conversation dies a natural death, and for a while, the two of you just walk alongside each other, following the sidewalk further into Yellow Seed. 

The houses you pass, like motel, auto shop, and gas station, all seem to have been built in the 1950’s with few updates since the 1990’s. Mid-century ramblers outfitted in white trim and chipped pastel paint—so much canary yellow. Neat lawns and landscaping and tattered American flags flapping in the wind. As the sidewalk brings you closer to the heart of the town, structures get older, more homes with front porches and earth-toned exteriors.

Downtown Yellow Seed barely occupies two city blocks. The businesses stand shoulder-to-shoulder, all of them constructed of brick or lumber, none of them within the last century. When you turn down the main drag, you squint and blur your vision so that the pickup trucks look like buggies, and you can picture exactly what it looked like when the roads were dirt paths carved out by wagon wheels and horse hooves. 

“Outlaw Saloon,” you nod to the sign on an upcoming building and grin at Din, “Sounds like the place for us.” 

“Speak for yourself,” he mutters, stepping up onto the sagging floorboards of the porch and starting towards the door. 

The dog follows his suggestion, suddenly very interested in this change of direction, his ears perking up into high-alert. Din plucks him off the ground, then pulls the squeaky door open for you to enter, releasing a cacophony of noise: country music and clinking glass and the low murmur of conversation. 

As you walk past him into the establishment, you tell Din, “That’s your problem, big guy, you know that? You think you’re so much better than me, but you’re not.” 

All you hear in response is a grumble, then the jarring crack of the spring-loaded door slamming shut behind him. When he saddles up to your side, you feel his hand press into the small of your back. 

It surprises you a little. Both the action itself, and the way your pulse jumps in response. 

You don’t move, but look over at him and find you’re close enough to see his eyes behind his aviators. They flick around the bar as if searching for potential danger in the two dozen locals occupying the saloon. He holds the dog firm and close to his chest and he doesn’t move his hand and you realize that he is protecting you both. Subconsciously, probably, but he’s doing it nonetheless. 

Something happens inside you. 

A brief but sudden free-fall that flips your stomach and gelatinizes the cartilage in your joints. Your throat struggles to swallow around your thudding heart. 

RULE #9: Do not get attached. 

Ignoring the warning, you bring yourself closer to him. Just an inch or so, intending to be subtle, so that maybe he won’t notice. You don’t want him to think you like or need his protection, because you don’t. 

Need it, that is. 

Liking it, however…

If you can glean anything from the steady thrum of heat between your thighs, it’s that you do like it. That is, unfortunately, too blunt a force for you to ignore. 

An unamused looking waitress approaches your little trio, grinding a wad of gum between her molars, “No dogs.”

“Oh—he’s an emotional support dog,” you tell her, softening your features into a non-threatening, winsome expression. You put your hand on Din’s arm and explain, “My friend has horrible agoraphobia. The only way I can get him to go out is if we have the dog with us.” 

Her eyebrow raises and she blinks at Din, “That true?”

He nods once, “It is.” 

She glances between the two of you for a moment, eyes flicking in time with the smack smack smack of her chewing gum, then shrugs, “Alright, come with me.” 

As you follow the waitress, he stays by your side, with his warm, wide palm held flush to your spine. 

He’s just making sure you don’t bolt. It doesn’t mean anything. 

This little voice inside your head makes you feel so foolish, your cheeks start to flush. She’s right, though. You’re making something out of nothing. 

But then his thumb moves. Only slightly, and just once, this gentle wiper blade motion—a fucking caress if you’ve ever felt it. 

Your face heats even more. 

The waitress stops at a wooden, high-back booth and pulls two menus from her apron, placing one on each side of the table. Only when you slide into the booth does his hand depart your body. He sits across from you, placing the dog down beside him. 

“Can I get y’all somethin’ to drink?” 

“Could I get a water, please?” you ask, flashing her a polite smile. 

She nods, then looks at Din. 

“I’ll have the same.” 

“Two waters, anything else?”

You glance up at Din, trying hard not to drop your gaze when you feel his eyes meet yours. He shakes his head slightly, and you tell her, “No, I think that’s good for now, thank you.” 

“Be right back.”

Once she’s out of earshot, Din asks, “Agoraphobia?” 

“Pretty slick, huh?” you grin. 

He smirks and shakes his head, looking down at the menu. The dog wriggles his way under his owner’s arm. Din allows it, absentmindedly petting him while evaluating food options. 

Letting out a sigh, you turn your attention to the menu, too. Burgers, chicken, basic sandwiches, fried food. Standard bar fare. It doesn’t take you long to decide on a grilled cheese, leaving you to study the innards of the Outlaw Saloon. 

The place is cavernous. Tin ceiling tiles two stories above the ground stretch much further back than you expected. Everything else, from the walls to the furniture to the floors, all appears to be made from the same dark, lacquered wood. 

Predictably, the décor is an homage to cowboy lore. Taxidermized livestock, paintings of horses, and antique farm equipment have been mounted on the walls. Among them hang wanted posters of infamous Wild West gunslingers, such as Wyatt Earp and Billy the Kid. Sort of camp, but in an endearing way. 

The bar bustles with activity, much busier than you thought it would be. In a small town like this, you weren’t expecting to see more than a handful of regulars out on a Wednesday evening, but there are at least 20, maybe 30, other patrons scattered about the venue. 

As you look around at the strangers, you think to yourself, “Not one of these people would look out of place at a rodeo,” which is to say that the crowd looks to be a mix of ranchers and other working class folks. At least half are strapped with a handgun, which isn’t particularly alarming, especially in a rural Western town like this, but always good to note. Occasionally, people mutter to each other while shooting dirty looks at your table. Probably because you’re out-of-towners who had the audacity to bring a dog into their beloved saloon. 

“Damn, if we were carrying, I bet we’d fit in a little better,” you comment mildly. 

“Who says I’m not?” 

You look over at him and tilt your head, “Are you?” 

“I am.” 

This interests you. You fold your legs up into a pretzel and lean your elbows onto the table, “Whaddya have?”

With his expressive eyes concealed, it’s hard to read what his silence means, but you guess trying to determine your question’s intent. 

Before either of you can say anything else, the waitress approaches your table carrying two glasses of water. As she slides one in front of you, then the other in front of Din, you ask her, “Do you guys ever have live music here?” 

“Sure,” she shrugs and plants one hand on her hip, “Nothing this weekend, though.” 

You glance over at Din, who’s shaking his head slowly, as if to say, “Don’t you fucking dare,” but ignore it and ask, “Do you want live music this weekend?” 

“I take it I do not get a treat?” 

Din clenches his jaw, glaring up at you from his crouched position as he unhooks Grogu’s leash. He hasn’t said anything to you since you coaxed your way into a gig at the Outlaw Saloon, blatantly disregarding his wishes to lay low in this town.

If he wasn’t so goddamn hungry, and if it wouldn’t have roused the attention of the already suspicious locals, he would have hauled you out of the restaurant the second you inquired with the waitress about live music. 

You must have felt the anger radiating off him in waves, because your attempts at conversation since have been few and far in between. 

For that, he’s grateful. 

The red glowering beneath his skin feels unpredictable. That familiar loathsome beast. Something he believed extinct inside him, eradicated through years of training, now awake and growling. 

He rises to a standing position and starts pacing, trying to keep calm. 

Meanwhile, you take your doodle-ridden acoustic guitar, plop down on the bed, and start strumming a tune. 

Heat wells up in his chest. 

“It’ll be fun, you’ll see. Gives us something to do,” you tell him, watching your own fingertips move skillfully along the neck of the instrument, “Plus, I could rake in a decent amount of money, which could help us—”

“Stop it.”

The music cuts immediately. 

He takes off his hat and sunglasses, tossing them onto the chest of drawers, then turns to face you, meeting your doe-eyed gaze with too much vitriol. 

“There is not an us. This is not a team. I do not want or need your help.” 

Your shoulders sag. You furrow your brow, searching his face, and your lips part to protest, but he cuts you off hard. 

“You are nothing to me but a payload. An annoying, entitled payload. Do you understand?” 

You react as if he slapped you across the face. Your head jerks back and you drop your gaze to the floor, face getting all red.

He stares at you, awaiting your counterattack, but all you do is let out a choked sob. 

The sharp tip of this noise pierces the over-inflated balloon of his anger, bursting it instantly. In its sudden absence, an ache starts in his chest. He looks back at the situation from this calmer state of mind, cleared of red haze, and feels ashamed of himself.

Grogu jumps onto the bed to sit at your side, and whines up at you. Inhaling a wobbly breath, you reach out and scratch his head, then mumble a damp, “It’s ok, pup.” 

Some time goes by with only your quiet sniffles to break the silence, then you ask, “Where am I sleeping?” 

As soon as the mention of sleep hits him, his bones turn to lead, heavy with exhaustion. How long has it been since he’s slept? It feels like days. Nothing last night, barely a few hours the night before that. 

“You have options,” he responds. At this, you let out a sad, soft chuckle that he ignores, continuing, “There’s the bathroom, your sleeping bag, or the bed.” 

“I assume I would be restrained in each of these scenarios?” 

He folds his arms over his chest and nods, “In the bathroom, I would cuff you to the toilet. The other two, I…” he grimaces, “It would be to me.” 

“Wow, ok,” you take the guitar out of your lap and prop it up on the nightstand, “A toilet or the man who thinks I’m a piece of shit.” 

“I didn’t say—”

“You didn’t have to.” 

He meets your gaze, holding it steady for a few seconds before saying, “Charlie, I…”

The apology gets all tangled in his throat. You wait a while for him to finish the thought. When he doesn’t, you move past it, your voice void of emotion. 

“Do you have a preference?”

“No.” 

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to sleep in the bed.” 

Din nods in acknowledgment. He glances down at his watch, finds it’s barely past 6, and asks, “Are you tired now?”

“Kinda, yeah.”

As if to confirm, you suck in a shaky breath and yawn, stretching your hands above your head. It spreads to him. 

“Give me a few minutes,” he tells you.

In response, you tug at the bedspread and wriggle your way between the sheets. Grogu grumbles for a moment at the adjustment, then turns in a few circles and plops down beside you with a hmph.

You’re probably exhausted, too, given the ups and downs of this week. Being taken captive. Sleeping in the same room as Din when you cannot trust him. Spending all your time with someone whose explicit intent is to turn you in for a pretty penny.

It must take an emotional toll, even if you don’t let it show most of the time. Even if you have that rule to… how did you put it? 

Live in the now. 

To your credit, you have been trying your damnedest to follow that rule. By getting to know people whose paths cross yours, bonding with Grogu, writing and drawing in your notebook, playing music, suggesting ways to squeeze as much experience as possible out of what little time you have left. 

Din likes that about you. Your relentless optimism. It’s admirable. 

He likes a lot of things about you, he realizes. Your cunning, and your curiosity, and your ferocity. Your gap-toothed smile. The skillful way you play the guitar. How you curled into him ever-so-slightly when he placed his hand on your back earlier. 

It occurs to him then that you may feel it, too. That gooey electric current when he touches you, or when his eyes meet yours for longer than a second. 

His own words echo back to him: “You are nothing to me but a payload.” 

He wants to take it back. 

It’s not even true, he just wishes it was. He wishes he looked at you and saw a bad person who’s going to get what she deserves. The truth couldn’t be more contrary. 

While your captor goes about his nighttime routine, you sulk. 

It’s all you can do, really, since he’s made it abundantly clear your presence is a nuisance. Worse than that, even. You are nothing but an asset to him. 

Ironically, it makes you feel worthless. 

You think about how pathetic your burgeoning crush on him is. Were you imagining the chemistry between you? 

Of course you were. 

You were making things up—“Living in LaLa Land,” as your mother used to say. 

Din pulls back the covers on the opposite side of the bed. The mattress shifts under his weight, and he groans as he stretches out. Every nerve ending in your body lights up when you feel the heat of him. The distance between you is exactly the width of a French Bulldog. 

“Hey, kid,” he murmurs. 

His voice is low and syrupy. Warm. 

Your throat works in a slow bob before you roll on your back to look at him. Your eyes meet his, and your stomach flips. When whoever said that thing about the eyes being the window to the soul, they must have been talking about him. You can see it all right there, written in bold print: I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. 

Or maybe that’s just what you want to see. Fuck, but why? Why do you even care? 

You should fucking know better.

This is only temporary. Din. His dog. The truck. This room. Tonight. Life, really, if you wanted to get existential about it. 

“Do you want to watch the rest of that movie?” 

You frown as you consider this for a moment, then nod. 

He gets out of bed and walks over to the big armoire. As he pops in the second Titanic VHS tape, you study the broad span of his shoulders and biceps stretching his t-shirt taut. 

God, he looks solid and strong and just so fucking good.  

This guy robbed you of your dignity and all you can think about right now is what his lips would feel like on yours. If he would be a greedy lover, or a generous one, or both. Would he be intuitive or clumsy with your body? Would he be rough? 

He would be with me.

Heat blossoms on your cheeks and deep in your center. You don’t know how you know, but you do. He just seems… pressurized. Combustible. Especially towards you. 

On his way back to bed, while the tape rewinds, Din rummages through his backpack and piles some of its contents into one arm. He sits down at the edge of the mattress and hands you a bottle of water, then holds out two candy bars and says, “Pick one.” 

“Is this an apology?” 

“No, it’s chocolate.” 

You blink at him and cross your arms. 

His features soften. He shakes his head, “What I said was not kind. You didn’t deserve that.”

“No, I didn’t,” you agree, keeping your gaze stern, “You can’t talk to me like that.”

“I understand. I’m sorry.” 

You search his face. There’s such earnestness there, you believe him. 

A mechanical click sounds from the VCR, then the TV lights up as Titanic starts where it left off. 

Your gaze drops to the candy bars, and you pluck one from his hand. The one that advertises a peanut-buttery crunch. Peeling off its yellow wrapper, you smirk, “Apology accepted.” 

Din climbs all the way into bed, stuffing the flat hotel pillows behind his back, then opens the shiny silver wrapper of his candy bar. For a while, it’s quiet except for the warbled audio from the TV and the crunch of your chewing. 

You get that feeling again like sunshine on your skin or God or whatever, and you laugh out loud. 

“What?” Din asks.

“It’s probably really weird that I’m happy right now, right?” 

“Are you?” 

You peek over at him and chuckle, “Yeah, I mean… I’m eating my favorite candy and watching a good movie. Laying in a bed with a cute dog and…yeah,” you shrug, turning back to the TV, “I don’t know. I like it.”

He hums in acknowledgment, then asks, “Do you have your knife?” 

“Why, you gonna take it from me so I don’t kill you in your sleep?” You let the question hang in the air for one whole second before continuing, “I’ll be real up close and personal, wouldn’t even have to sneak, just,” you drag your thumb across your throat, “Blech, dead.” 

“I’m not taking it from you,” he tells you, pulling out his handcuffs, “But if you want to get it or use the bathroom, now’s your chance.” 

You take the opportunity to relieve your bladder and change into your comfiest (and least offensive smelling) clothes. 

Before tucking your pocket knife into your sleeve, you stare at it for a minute and consider actually using it to get the fuck out of here. Something you’ve considered dozens of times, if you’re being honest, but this time the idea weighs a million pounds. 

When you open the bathroom door and step into the motel room, Din looks up at you from the bed. His gaze wanders briefly down your body as you climb into bed, then correct its course back to your eyes, “All set?”

You nod and hold your right arm out to him. 

His touch is gentle when he closes the cuff around your wrist. Clicks sound from the apparatus until it’s clear your hand won’t be capable of wiggling free. 

He secures the other cuff around his left wrist, settles his arm next to yours, and asks, “How is that?”

“It’s fine,” you nod, your voice too high, then swallow hard and chuckle, “Well, I guess as fine as being handcuffed in a bed can be. Probably not the best it could be, but not the worst, um, either.”  

You wince at yourself and look at the TV, where Rose is wading through thigh-high water, carrying an ax. Thankfully, he doesn’t respond, but turns off the light on his nightstand. You do the same with yours. Aside from the TV, only a faint glow comes in through the window. Daylight’s last gasping breath. 

You close your eyes and fondle the cool metal of your pocket knife in your left hand. 

RULE #8: Take care of yourself.

Din shifts a little, and the back of his hand butts up against yours. Neither of you go to move. Warmth branches out from the spot, expanding and taking root deep in your belly. 

RULE #2: Listen to your gut. 

With this, you tuck the pocket knife under your pillow and roll onto your side facing him. You think about how nice it would be to rest your head on him, but resist the urge. The edges of consciousness start to fold in on themselves, and you murmur, “Sweet dreams, big guy.”

“Goodnight.”