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joels-shitty-puns · 10 months

Note

I'm gonna make a request again (sorry your last one was too good for me not to ask again) but this time for a jealous Joel! Maybe the reader and him have been friends for a while and she's oblivious to his flirting and she finally lands a date? How it goes from there can be up to you! I just love the jealous and possessive trope.

The Jealousy Bug

Pairing: Jealous!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Hi!! I'm so sorry this took me so long to write, but thank you for the request!! I hope you like it!! I got a lil carried away... hope its not too much smut.

~~~~~

(Reader and Joel live in Jackson, amid the apocalypse)

Word count: 6.8K (oof)

Warnings: 18+ only, MDNI!! Smut smut smut. P in V sex (likely unprotected but not specified. Its an apocalypse, yo.), masturbation (m and f), sort of dubcon? voyeurism?? sorta?, kissing, talk of genitals and arousal, horny behavior. Explicit language and mean names. Alcohol. Violence: infected, guns, punching, mention of a knife. Joel is kind of a jerk sometimes. Possessive. Mentions of loss and grief (all within S.1 of TLOU). I haven't played part II yet so we're just gonna ignore what we know happens there. Joel and Ellie are happy in Jackson. Joel and Reader are friends and sort of neighbors. Clueless idiots in love. A total asshole of a guy in the town. Lil bit of fluff/romance? Mention of bugs (pill bugs), but not in a gross way. If I missed anything, please let me know, and I apologize!

Other Stuff: Avoidance of reader descriptors, other than reader is AFAB. Mentions of having hair on the noggin. She/her pronouns. Reader is clueless and also clumsy as hell. Reader also drinks coffee and alcohol. Italics indicate thoughts.

__________

It was around 4PM when you filed into the community center for another mandatory patrol meeting. It may be an apocalypse, but even now, you wished this meeting could have been an email instead. Alas, that was a thing of the past, and you were unfortunately stuck listening to the usual spiel about necessary vs. unnecessary items to raid… The importance of remembering to ABC, “Always Be Cautious,” plants that can and can't be eaten, etc.

You sat in your usual spot, the back row next to Joel Miller. A year ago when you first moved to this town, first started patrol, you came into this very room not knowing anyone. Friend groups stuck together, each of the two front rows filled, yet a few empty spaces here and there. Instead, you walked towards the back of the room. A handsome man, who you soon learned was named Joel, sat by himself, three rows back, behind the last full aisle. He was alone. The whole aisle of chairs was empty. He sat with his arms crossed, and you could tell based on his posing that he was not the social type.

You were feeling a bit nervous, having finally found a sort of civilization in this mess, and hoping the people of Jackson accept you and not just shoot you, like most camps do when they see unknown faces. Unsure where to sit, you continued to head towards the back, slightly drawn to the gorgeous gray-haired man in the last row. Not wanting to intrude, you sat at the far end from Joel. You could feel his eyes on you as you sat, but you didn't dare look over and make eye contact. Years of survival instincts have told you that, especially when someone doesn't want to be bothered.

_____

When you first walked into the room, Joel looked up. He sat in the back row, as usual, not wanting to get close to anyone. However, even if he did, nobody gave him the time of day. They have heard stories of what he’s done, they have seen him around town, often grumbling about something. They could tell he wanted to be left alone and they had no interest in testing how badly he wanted to be left alone.

Joel found it easier to not form connections. Tommy kept telling him to make friends, come around more, socialize in the town. But Joel had learned over the years why making connections never ends well. All he has is Tommy and Ellie, and neither of those were his initial decision, but Tommy is his only family, and somehow he let himself care for Ellie.

But when Joel saw you… there was a flash of longing. He saw you smile gently at Tommy with a small wave. He could see you shrink walking to your seat past the cliques. You were beautiful, and if it were pre-pandemic, you'd be the exact type he'd probably take interest to.

But those days are over.

Or… so he thought.

He set his eyes back down on his hands in his lap, avoiding eye contact with you when you sat down at the end of the row from him.

Why did she sit so far away? Am I that horrible to be around? His heart questioned.

You don't want to be near people anyway. Good she sat far away. Leave me alone. His brain tried to argue.

Tommy droned on and on, the meeting nearing an hour by now, and you could feel Joel’s eyes on the side of your face every few minutes. You don't know why he kept staring, but it made you feel nervous. Did you have something on your face or clothes? Did you smell bad?

Tommy knew his brother well, sometimes more than Joel likes to admit out loud, and as he talked, he took note of Joel’s staring. At first his expression looked confused, maybe irritated or disgusted. Then it looked slightly… disappointed. But he kept stealing glances your direction, and so with a smirk, Tommy assigned the two of you to be on patrol together. Joel questioned his reasoning afterward, but he knew there was no point arguing with his brother.

After that day, you patrolled together. You both went to the bar with the group after meetings. You sat closer and closer to Joel. You managed to get some words out of him, and he listened to you chatter on. But it was when you brought him a cup of coffee before patrol one morning that he finally let down his guard. His heart had betrayed his defenses.

“What's this?” He asked, gruffly.

“Coffee, Joel…” you replied with a joking eye roll. “It's black. I know you don't like anything in it.”

He took a sip, shocked to taste that you actually knew how he took his coffee. “How did you know that?”

“I notice things Joel.” You patted his shoulder, walking towards the group.

_____

Now, a year later, the two of you were very close friends. You still surprised him with things you remembered or noticed, but much to his chagrin, the one thing you didn't pick up on were his advances. He'd call you pet names, be sweet to you, treat you like a gentleman, flirt a little, and it was like talking to a robot. You were clueless.

Tonight's meeting finally ended, the large group heading outside to the chill fall air. “You wanna get drinks with the patrol squad?” you asked Joel.

“Wouldn't miss it,” he winked at you, putting his leather jacket on his shoulders.

Although you went as a group, ultimately you and Joel spent most of the nights in your own little bubble, occasionally making space in your circle for Tommy, or Maria if she joined.

Tonight, the two of you sat at the bar, the patrol group spread throughout the room at different tables. Joel excused himself to use the restroom, and while he was gone, Jimmy, one of the other patrol members approached you. Hurrying before Joel returned, he flirted and asked you out on a date. You told him you'd think about it, that you weren't sure if you were ready for a relationship after years of caution.

Not technically a lie, you thought. Although you really just weren't ready for a relationship because your heart was already taken by your handsome best friend.

Joel returned just in time to see Jimmy walking away. “What did he want?” Joel grumbled. “Ah nothin, just wanted to say hi while getting a drink,” you lied. Joel accepted this answer and the two of you drank into the night. At the end of the evening, you seemed pretty drunk. Jimmy offered to walk you home, but before you had a chance to reply, Joel replied for you.

“I'll take her home, thanks.” He bit, turning you away from Jimmy. “I don't like the idea of that boy walkin’ you home. Don't trust ‘im. ‘Specially not when you're in this condition,” he wrapped an arm around you, shuffling you toward the door.

“You don't think I can handle myself, Joel?” You asked him, pulling away, a little bit irritated at him treating you like a weakling. “I seem to do just fine on patrol,” you argued.

“I know that, sugar. I didn't mean it like that. I just don't trust that guy. Heard how he goes through women. Don't want him trying’ anything with you,” he brushed his hand over your hair, causing you to soften at his words and actions.

You gasped lightly. “Is THE Joel Miller… jealous?” You knew he wasn't, but why not test the waters?

“What? Jealous? Of what? No ‘m not.” he balked. “Just lookin’ out for you…”

“Mmhm… you just wanna be the only big strong man walking me home, huh?” You teased, tripping over your own feet.

Joel caught you in his arms. “Big strong man, huh? ‘S that what you think of me?”

Shit… did I say that? You panicked. Maybe I'm more drunk than I thought…

Deciding to tease it off, you replied, “well you do always seem to catch me when I fall…” with a wink.

Falling in more ways than one… you thought, frustrated.

He rubbed his neck with the hand not holding you upright. You could almost see a pink tinge to his cheeks.

No, that has to be the lights playing tricks on my eyes… you thought. No way Joel Miller was blushing at your words.

“I kinda have to, ya big klutz. Practically a liability. I oughta tell Tommy to add a safety section on patrolling with you,” he bantered.

“Ah, shut up” you laughed with a push, causing yourself to lose balance instead of Joel. He just gave a knowing look, causing you both to laugh as you continued walking, now side by side instead of him holding you up.

After a few moments of silence, you spoke up. “You know, I could've walked myself home, Joel,” you stumbled, giggling.

“Whoa there, sweetheart.” He wrapped his arms around you again, propping you up. “Don't worry about it. Let's just get you home. You've had way too much to drink.”

“You're so sweet Joel,” you pouted at him, booping his nose. “Joelly Joel.” You giggled. “Jolly Joelly.” Another giggle. “I dunno why people think you're so grumpy. I think you're just a big teddy bear,” you closed your eyes, leaning your head on his shoulder while he stumbled forward, trying to keep you upright.

“Who says I'm grumpy, darlin’?” He tilted his head towards you, smirking. “The whole town, silly. Silly Joelly. Joely-poly.” You gasped abruptly, causing Joel to jerk and turn to face you. “What? What is it?” His hand reached for his knife on his hip. Old habits die hard.

“Joely-poly!!” You squealed. “Awe! Roly-polies. Remember those!? I used to love them when I was little.” You pouted. “Before this whole world went to shit.”

Joel thought back to the little pill bugs, playing in the dirt with them when he was younger. Teaching his own daughter about them. His heart aches for what he lost, but he also thinks of Ellie. He bets she would love the little bugs too.

“That's a cute nickname for you,” you smiled. “They're so cute. Just,” you booped his nose. “Like.” Boop. “You,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him tight. Another gasp from your lips.

He flinched again. “Darlin’, if you don't quit that I swear-”

“Joeeeel!” You pouted. “Do you think the roly-polies all died off with the infection!?” Your eyes welled up.

“Oh, sweetheart, don't cry. There's probably still some out there. Bugs could get cordyceps long before the fungus attacked humans, and they were still alive back then.” You looked up into his deep brown eyes through your fluttering lashes. “You really think so?” You leaned in, placing both your hands on his cheeks. His breath caught in his chest. “Darlin’, you drank a lot tonight-” you cut off his sentence, running your hands down his neck, resting your palms on his chest. His heart was beating a mile a minute. If he didn't know better, he'd worry his heart would leap out and fly away.

Your eyes lit up and you slid off his chest, lowering clumsily to the ground and gripping his sides for balance. You were now on your knees, eye level with his crotch, hands on his hips. His breath was ragged and his stomach full of twirling butterflies. “Wh-what do you think you're doin’?” He asked nervously. You looked up at him with big eyes, your hands slowly falling down from his hips to his thighs as you tried to balance yourself in your drunken state. He couldn't help but feel his pants begin to tent at the position you were in. He would never take advantage of you in your current state, but trying to ignore the desire brewing in his body after so many months of unrequited feelings was challenging. Did you finally see his advances for what they were? Feelings instead of friendliness?

You grinned up at him, finally regaining balance. “I'm gonna go look for ‘em!” you turned and waddled away on your knees, heading a couple feet away, towards a patch of flowers off the path.

She just needed to use me as a ladder, or what…? Joel thought to himself with a sigh and shaking his head in disappointment, his sexual frustration at its breaking point.

You crawled forward, falling onto your hands and knees in the soft dirt. Joel quickly stepped forward to try and grab you but realized, despite your lack of grace, you meant to do that. “Ugh… darlin', it's dark out here. It's cold. You're drunk. Let's get you home.”

“I'm looking for buggies, Joel!!” You leaned towards a leaf, arching downward so that your face was closer to the ground, ass up.

“Oh, have mercy…” Joel groaned under his breath, his eyes drifting downward. Your ass was up in the air, facing him, the fabric of your dress having fallen forward towards your front. Your light pink panties were on full display for Joel, leaving little to his imagination in this position. Joel subtly adjusted his pants, looking up to the sky and shaking his head in a silent plea.

You whined. “Joel, I don't see any.” You leaned farther forward, wiggling your butt somehow higher. Joel looked around, panicked at the thought that someone else might see you in this position. But luckily, you were close to your house and it was just the two of you out here. He turned back to you again. “I think it's time you get up and we go in-” you moved further forward, the streetlight shining above you and illuminating your ass. Joel tried to be a gentleman, but his eyes betrayed him. As he snuck another glance, he couldn't help but notice a little wet spot over the crotch of your panties. “In-inside…” he finished his sentence, words catching in his throat. He gulped, trying to divert his eyes.

Taking a shaky breath and stepping forward, trying to ignore the throbbing need in his pants, he lightly grabbed your arm. “It's time to go sweetheart. The bugs are sleepin’ I think.”

You looked at him and smiled mischievously. “I know, Joel,” you winked. Jumping up, you scampered towards your house, leaving Joel to wonder what the hell just happened.

“Woman's gonna be the death of me,” Joel muttered under his breath to himself. He caught up to you, just as you both approached your house. “Joel, I don't wanna go home. Can't I stay with you? And Ellie?” you batted your eyelashes at him. He rubbed his neck. “Ellie's with a friend tonight. But, you do have a point. You probably shouldn't be left by yourself in this state. Don't want you gettin’ hurt, or sick, and bein’ all alone.”

“Such a gentleman, Joel.” You touched his bicep, the two of you walking towards Joel's house across the street.

Hardly, he thought, grimacing at the reason he was aching in his trousers, feeling like an old creep, and a terrible excuse for a friend.

Once inside Joel's house, he gave you a baggy sleep shirt and a glass of water with some crackers to help with the alcohol. You changed, brushed your teeth with a spare toothbrush, and used the restroom. He let you have his bed, while he took the couch down the hall, scrunching his legs up to barely fit.

_____

Joel tried his hardest to ignore what he saw earlier and just go to bed, but the aching only continued, making it impossible to sleep. Sure that you must have fallen asleep by now, tucked away in his bed down the hall, he quietly reached into his pajama bottoms and boxers, pulling out his rock-hard penis. Even the mere touch of removing himself from his pants caused him to hiss, so worked up he could have cum just watching you bent over earlier.

He was a gentleman, but he was still a man, and one that hadn't been with a woman in a very long time. With as many people as he'd lost by one means or another, he'd told himself he wouldn't get close to anyone else. Sarah's mom. Sarah. Tess. Bill and Frank. Sam and Henry. He almost thought he had lost Tommy before Jackson, too. It was against his wishes that Ellie crawled her way into his heart, and then he almost lost her as well. He was beginning to think maybe it was him. He was cursed, doomed to have anyone he loved ripped away from him.

Which is why when you came to Jackson, he tried his best to ignore you. But you always greeted him, cheerful and sweet, like a little ball of sunshine that was somehow untarnished by the storm clouds of an apocalypse.

He was irritated to realize that he had made room in his heart for you. You caused an ache in his heart that yearned to be filled. A missing piece in his soul. A place for him to someday fit, tangled between sheets and loving words. It had been about a year since you moved to Jackson, and he still feared getting too close to you, yet he would try his hardest to woo you the way a gentleman should. Sweet nicknames, flirting, gentle touches. You never picked up on it. Whether or not you felt the same, he stupidly fell in love. Unsure if it was mutual, yet pretty sure it wasn't after all this time, he tried to ignore the dirty thoughts revolving around you when the late-night urges would hit him. Somehow it felt wrong.

But tonight, it was hard to avoid. Having you touch him. His face, his neck, his chest, his hips, his thighs. Kneeling eye level with his crotch. Slinking away, sticking your barely covered ass in the air, letting your wet panties be shown to him and only him. He couldn't get you out of his head as he stroked himself. First slowly, but then harder and faster, trying to reach his climax with the thought of him burying himself in that sweet spot underneath your wet underwear. How he longed to see you with his own eyes, begging for him.

He tried to be quiet, to keep himself hidden from you down the hall, but the noise of skin on skin grew slightly louder with each of his quiet moans and panting breaths that managed to slip from his lips. Imagining himself buried deep inside you, taking you from behind in the same position he saw you in earlier, imagining the tight grip around him and the slick noises he could only fantasize about. He could practically hear you moaning and sighing, the sound seeping from his subconscious to the living room. He pumped harder, swirling his thumb around the head, drooling with precum, as his climax grew closer. He could feel his strokes becoming less controlled and his balls pulling upward as he began to shoot load after load of white hot release up under his shirt onto his stomach. Stroking himself through it, he milked his last few ropes of cum out before laying back to catch his breath, slowly tucking himself back away in his pants.

Coming back to his senses, he realized the sounds of your moans and whimpers that he was imagining were still happening. Taken out of his fantasies when he finished, there was no reason for the sounds to still be in his head. Needing to grab a cloth from the linen closet down the hall anyway, he walked, nearing his bedroom door, and heard the unmistakable sound of you pleasuring yourself. Quietly, he padded down the hallway, closer to the door. He could tell you were trying to be quiet, but could still hear you, soft whimpers and pants, surrounded by wet schlick noises.

Fuck, he thought. He could feel himself already getting excited again, despite having just released a few minutes ago. He desperately wanted to join you in his bed, or at the least, stand by the door and listen to your sounds while pleasuring himself, but he wasn't going to be a creep, nor scare you to death. You were still his friend. Even if he did want to move the couch across the living room to hear you better.

_____

Meanwhile in Joel's room, you had tried to sleep. You really had. But tossing and turning, each roll causing your nose to be surrounded with his scent, you were thrown into a frenzy, like an animal in heat. Each smell of his cologne, shaving cream, deodorant, and natural body scent that you picked up from his bed sent a wave of arousal directly to your core. You wondered how many times he'd pleasured himself in this bed and how frequently. You wondered if he ever thought of you while doing it, imagining himself buried deep to the hilt inside of you, each drag of his cock more perfect than the last, much like you were imagining now.

You would be lying if you didn't say there were a lot of handsome men in Jackson. Granted, you had been without romance for a very long time, but still. Many of them were single, and some of them were very sweet and friendly. Yet for some strange reason, your heart had been drawn to Joel. The first moment you saw him, with his silvery curls and his grumpy face, his shining brown eyes and his patched beard, you were smitten. You were a bit disappointed that he seemed to be a massive grump, but despite what everyone said, he was always nice to you. Granted, you were always nice to him, so why should he be anything less, right?

He was always a total gentleman, calling you names like darlin’ and sweetheart, his southern drawl pulling you in like a lasso. His care for his unofficially-adopted daughter warmed your heart, and you could see he was a real family man from both their relationship, and the one he shared with his brother. It warmed your heart, especially when you befriended Tommy and Ellie, getting to hear them talk about Joel. Seeing the love they feel, even if they give him a hard time sometimes. You didn't see how people felt Joel was cruel or heartless, even with the stories you heard. Times were rough, and people did what they had to for survival.

You were always too chicken to make a move, and you figured he wouldn't be interested anyway. Surely him calling you those names and being sweet with you was just his Southern gentlemanly nature, right? You were nice to him, he was nice to you.

So tonight, when Jimmy, the local heartthrob in town, asked you on a date, you told him you'd think about it and let him know. Yeah, you claimed you weren't sure how you felt about relationships after all the world had become. Truth was, you wanted a last chance with Joel before throwing in the towel and settling for Jimmy.

Sure, Jimmy was handsome. Blonde hair, blue eyes, rugged, yet boyish. Several of the women in town had crushes on him, and he had had several of the women in town. You weren't clueless to the rumors about his playboy behavior. But it had been a while and well, you weren't getting any younger. It might be nice to have a partner, even if he did only want a short little fling.

So throwing back a few drinks, you decided you needed the liquid courage to finally make a move at Joel. One last effort to get his attention. You still didn't want to say anything to him, lest it ruin your current friendship that had grown so strong, but you could certainly use your body to entice a little. Drinking just enough to be brave, yet not so drunk that you were completely out of it, you gave an impression you were much drunker than you were, and needed Joel to help you out. Jimmy had almost been the one to walk you home, to your disappointment, before Joel stepped in, seeming slightly irritated about Jimmy's offer.

Yet after practically waving your ass in his face, showing him your panties (which you were sure looked wet), being inches from his crotch at knee height, and hanging on him all the way home, to now sleeping in his house and his bed, you were quite sure he didn't feel the same. Obviously his gestures were pure gentlemanly charm if he didn't bite after tonight's show.

So you tried to sleep, still a little drunk, but getting drunker off his scent. You tried to ignore the ache between your legs but the thought of him in this bed, groaning as his hand pumped his member to completion, made you throb. Soaked and antsy, you finally gave in and stuck your hand under the waistband of your panties. You let your imagination run wild, picturing him taking you in this bed, bringing you to bliss more than once. You could practically hear him groaning and panting, the sound seeping from your subconscious to the bedroom.

Tomorrow you would likely tell Jimmy yes. But tonight, you would try your best to get Joel out of your system, one stroke of your fingers at a time. But as you finished, coming with a whisper of Joel's name under your breath, you could still hear the groans and pants from Joel. Climbing out of bed, you moved to the door, pressing your ear against it. You could just barely hear the sounds of him panting and groaning, intermittent with the fapping of skin on skin. Delightedly surprised, you listened harder, feeling your pussy drool at the thought. How desperately you wanted to go out into the living room and climb on top of him. But he might not want that… he probably just couldn't sleep. Probably nothing to do with the scene you put on earlier. So instead, you slinked back to his bed, opting for round two.

At some point, the two of you fell asleep, panting and writhing with the self-induced pleasure, and the sound of each other through the door.

_____

The next morning, you awoke, walking down the hall to see Joel in his pajama bottoms and no shirt, making coffee. Your eyes scanned his broad shoulders and back, naked and tan. Bringing you back to last night's events, you felt your breath catching in your chest.

“M-morning” you stuttered out, nervously.

Joel jumped, having not heard you. He turned, greeting you with a good morning. A faint blush crept across his cheeks and he quickly turned his head to pour a cup of coffee, offering you some as well. Thanking him, the two of you sipped in silence, both stealing glances at the other and thinking of the night before. Both of you felt like you had a dirty little secret the other didn't know.

“Thanks again for taking care of me last night,” you added. In more ways than one, you thought.

“Of course, darlin’. Couldn't have you walkin’ home all alone or getting sick in the middle of the night. You're always welcome here,” he smiled.

“Well, I guess I better head to my house now,” you sighed. “See you later at patrol?”

“Course. Take care, sugar.” He brushed his hand over your arm. That's new… you thought. But still, probably friendly, unfortunately.

____

Hours later, you show up to patrol, noticing Joel hasn't arrived yet. Still a few minutes early, you look at the map, thinking over the route. You felt a tap on your shoulder, and turned around to see Jimmy.

“Hey, Jimmy,” you greeted, feeling slightly awkward. You assumed he probably wanted (and deserved) an answer. You rubbed your arm nervously, staring at the ground, wondering what to tell him. He was handsome, you thought, and you weren't getting anywhere with Joel.

“Did you, uh” Jimmy scratched behind his ear, “give any more thought to that date?”

Geesh. Not a lot of thinking time here…

“I did,” you replied. “I think… My answer is yes. I'll go out with you.” You felt a pang of regret in your stomach, but you wanted a connection, and you just weren't getting that from Joel, despite what you wanted to think from last night.

Jimmy grinned. “Really?” He picked up your hand, holding it in his. “That's great. I know you have patrol today, but maybe Friday? I'll meet you at your house at 6?”

“Sure,” you gave a small fake smile. “Sounds great.” He still held your hand, warm and soft and nothing like the rugged, large, callused hands of hard-working Joel. Although Joel has never held your hand, the times he's touched your arms, or held you up on your walk from the bar, he left a trail of goosebumps and butterflies in his wake, despite being warm to the touch.

Jimmy went to kiss your hand, just as Joel walked up. “What’s goin’ on here, huh?” He asked, seeming almost… angry, looking from Jimmy, to your connected hands, over to your face. “Joel,” Jimmy dropped your hand, giving Joel a curt nod.

“Jimmy..” Joel replied, teeth clenched.

“I'll see you Friday,” Jimmy smiled at you, touching your shoulder before walking away.

“What did that little asshole want?” Joel growled.

“Geez Joel, chill out. What's your problem? I'm not allowed to talk to people?” You crossed your arms.

“I toldja last night. I don't trust that kid. Too busy sleepin’ around with the whole town. What's he talkin’ to you for?” Joel furrowed his brow, looking over at Jimmy across the room, now talking to some of the other patrolmen.

“Gosh Joel.. seriously what is wrong with you? First of all, he's hardly a kid. He's at least in his thirties. Second of all, everyone he's been with, I'm sure has been consensual, otherwise Tommy would have kicked him out of the town. And lastly, but probably more important. What do you mean “what is he talking to you for?” You mocked in a deep voice. “Like I'm the only option he has left? Like I'm not deserving of a man talking to me? Not that it’s any of your business, friend, but for your information, Jimmy is taking me on a date on Friday. So fuck off, Joel.” You started to stomp away angrily, grabbing your pack off the desk.

“The fuck he is,” Joel muttered under his breath, so quiet you didn't hear and grabbing his pack as well.

_____

Five hours. Five hours of riding in complete silence, checking out abandoned buildings in complete silence, and taking breaks in complete silence. Even your first patrol wasn't this quiet, and you couldn't help but feel like he was somehow angry at you.

As irritated as you were with him, not talking to him somehow felt worse. This wasn't like him. Is this the grumpy side everyone talks about? Is this Joel, the asshole you have yet to meet?

Feeling confused, your eyes started to cloud, slightly teary with anger and sadness, yet also a bit of dread at going out with Jimmy. You blinked your eyes, sorting through the abandoned drug store you and Joel were in.

Finding some condoms on a shelf, you threw them in your pack. “What're you doin’?” Joel asked. “Those can't be sold, didn't you pay attention to Tommy? They're rarely effective this old.”

“Yes I paid attention, Joel. I know they can't be sold. They're for me. I figured it's better than nothing,” you replied bitterly. “I have a date in a couple days, I want to be prepared,” you scowled. Joel’s jaw clenched, but he didn't say anything, instead turning to look the other direction of the aisle.

Crouched down to search the bottom shelf for other items, Joel was still turned away from you, keeping lookout on the other end of the aisle.

You didn't even hear the stalker leap around the corner from the shadows and pounce on you. It opened its mouth, fungal strands spreading from its mouth towards your face. Pure fear pulsed through your veins.

“Joel!!!!!” You cried out, using all your strength to try and push the infected off of your body, but it was too strong.

You screamed and kicked, struggling to break free, when Joel fired his shotgun, shooting the enemy in the head and immediately running over to you. Throwing the infected off of your body as if it was weightless, Joel scooped you into his arms. His lips moved but you heard nothing. Your ears rang, high pitched squeals from adrenaline, fear, shock, and the bang of the shotgun.

Joel pawed over your body, roughly inspecting you for bites and wounds in a frenzy. When he didn't find any, he held you in his arms again. “It's okay baby, it's okay. You're alright sweetheart. Come back to me, it's okay. You're okay.” Your hearing must have returned. He rocked you, tears welling from your eyes and his. “You're okay. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.” He kissed your ear and the side of your head, still rocking you in a hug, sitting on the floor, inches from the now-dead infected. The two of you needed to get out of here, but neither of you could move yet.

Finally you spoke. “Why are you sorry Joel?” You asked with a sniffle. You wrapped your arm around his back, the other hand finding the back of his head, gripping his curls gently.

“I'm sorry for how I've been actin’ all day. I'm sorry I didn't see that stalker before he attacked. I'm sorry for being so possessive earlier. I'm sorry,” he held you tighter.

You pulled back to look into his eyes. “Joel, you couldn't have heard or seen that stalker. That's what they do best. You saved me and that's all that matters. As for earlier, you were being an asshole, and it did really hurt my feelings. All this time people have said you're such a jerk, and I didn't see it,” you pulled away from his grip, “but today I did.” You looked at your lap. “Don't I deserve to go on a date? Don't I deserve to have someone love me?” You picked at the hem of your pants, avoiding his eye contact.

“Oh, darlin', I'm so sorry. I never meant for you to feel that way. I just - you deserve something real, not a hookup like that guy wants. I know his type. He'll sleep with you and toss you aside. You deserve to be treated like a lady.”

You snorted. “Yeah, Joel. That's how things are nowadays, too. Gentleman just waiting to sweep me off my feet. Shit, you literally just saved me from near-death, something that happens all the time today, and yet you're saying I deserve love? To find romance? Yeah, right.”

Joel didn't say anything. He just looked into your eyes, lips pursed and moving to the side in thought. His eyes drifted to your lips and back up to your sight.

You continued. “I don't even like Jimmy,” you said quietly. “I like someone else, but I just got tired of waiting and wanted some kind of connection. Even if it's just a night in bed.” At the last part of your sentence, Joel grimaced, almost in pain. And then he thought.

“Wait,” he sat back a little, scanning your face. “Who do you like?”

You gulped. Why not a little more adrenaline? “Well, it was you, until you started acting like an asshole. But I realized you probably didn't feel the same way a while ago. Especially after I practically threw myself at you last night.”

“Threw yourself at me last night? What are you talkin’ about? You were drunk,” Joel answered.

“I wasn't that drunk, Joel. My movements were pretty planned. The placement of my touches on your body. My ass angled up in your direction. I wanted you,” you added, pointedly.

Joel looked like he was solving a complicated math problem. “So you… last night when you… I heard you, in bed, pleasurin’ yourself. Were you… thinking about me?”

You looked up at him in shock and panic. “You heard me?” You asked in a frantic whisper.

“Yeah, I uh… I did. I got up to get a towel and heard your uh… sounds” he cleared his throat.

“I guess I should tell you then that I heard you too,” you said with a smirk.

Joel swallowed, hard. “Y-ya heard me?”

“Yep” you replied, popping your lips on the p sound.

Joel had nothing to lose at this point. “I was thinking about you,” he proclaimed. “Thinkin’ bout that wet spot on your panties when you flashed your ass in the air. Wishin’ I was buried inside you.” He ran his hand across your thigh.

Your breathing picked up. “I was thinking about you too. Wishing you'd bust through that door and take me in your bed, running my nails down your back as we came together…” you mimicked the motion with your fingers down his jacket-clad back.

“Fuck,” he hissed, eyes closing. You glanced down at the noticeable bulge in his jeans. “I like you too, I just never thought you felt the same. Y’never seemed to pick up on any of my sweet talkin’ or my names for ya.”

“I just figured you were being nice,” you replied, glancing back into his eyes.

“You should know by now, I'm only nice to you,” he growled. “I'm sorry I ruined that today,” he glanced at your mouth, licking his lips. “Was just jealous. Want you all for myself,” he stroked your thigh again.

You sighed at the feeling, pulling him by his collar to kiss him deeply. The kiss was frantic and rough, both of you trying to get as much of each other as possible, a year of build-up boiling at the surface. Teeth clashed and tongues danced and you pulled each other closer, grasping at clothes and skin.

The two of you broke the kiss, needing a gasp of air. You started to take off your shirt when Joel stopped you. “Whoa, darlin'. I want you just as bad, but not here,” he gestured to the old building. “It's dangerous, not to mention gross in here. I wasn't kidding when I said you deserve romance,” he stood, pulling you to your feet. “We're about a 20 minute ride from base, let's head home. Make your fantasy of fuckin’ in my bed come true,” he winked, giving a smack to your ass.

_____

The 20 minute ride felt never-ending as you both stole glances at each other, your panties still wet with arousal, and him still sporting the tent in his pants, which was hard to miss.

Finally making it back to the stables, you both quickly undressed the horses and put gear away, about to head out of the barn when Jimmy and his partner rode up. “Hey, babe,” he called to you. It sounded wrong from his mouth. Joel tensed at your side.

Dismounting his horse, Jimmy strolled over to you. “Hey Jimmy, I was thinking. I don't think I want to go on that date after all. I'm sorry, I just don't feel the same way.”

“What?” Jimmy asked in disbelief.

“I know, I'm sorry if I hurt you. I- I like someone else. I just didn't think they felt the same way,” you replied sheepishly.

“Fuck you,” he spat.

“What?” You were in disbelief.

“Fuck you, bitch. One of the few women in this town who won't fuckin’ put out. I was even gonna take you on some shitty date before I got you into bed, and now you make a fool of me? Nah, I don't think so,” he stalked towards you angrily.

You stepped back, worried what he might do, but Joel stepped in first, nailing a punch at Jimmy's nose. “Don't you dare talk to her like that,” Joel yelled.

Tommy came running in, hearing the commotion. After hearing what happened, it was decided that Jimmy wouldn't be welcome in this town any longer.

Satisfied, you grabbed Joel's hand. “Why don't I show you who I really belong to?” You looked up at him, biting your lip.

“Lead the way, baby.” He pushed you forward, smacking your ass.

The two of you stumbled into his house, kissing with little regard for objects. Luckily, Ellie was still at a friend's house. The door slammed closed and you kissed furiously, undressing as you walked. Finally you reached his bedroom and fell onto the bed, where he made all your fantasies of the night prior come true. The two of you enjoyed the taste of each other's mouths, kissing and licking, while he pounded into you, leaving you breathless and screaming his name as you both came.

“That was even better than I imagined,” you sighed, rolling over onto his chest.

“That's my girl,” he cooed, kissing your head and rubbing your back.

“Mine,” he whispered.

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cultofdixon · 9 months

Text

Oddly Fascinating

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Can you imagine a human fucking pretzel? Well you certainly like to freak the others out unexpectedly • SFW/NSFW - Implied Sex

Requested by: Anon

It’s…fascinating. The things Y/N can do with JUST her body. Keep that noggin out of the gutter for a minute.

Y/N joined the group a little after the Woodbury infusion to the prison. She didn’t have a group and sort of ended up in Virginia because she simply didn’t stop walking from where she originated.

One day Daryl, Michonne, and Glenn were out on a run in the closest outdoor mall, which is a few hours away from the prison—so they were going to have to camp. Daryl went to check the store that looked like a miniature Home Depot thinking he could find some camping supplies but when he entered the store…said camping supplies were in use but no person.

“If anybody is here, I ain’t gonna hurt yea,” Daryl stated knowing that wouldn’t go far but to his surprise one of the storage boxes’s lids flung open. Soon a woman’s upper half popped out like a jack in the box and it was a bit unsettling to the archer.

“I had to see who I’m working with and what makes yea think I’ll trust “I ain’t gonna hurt yea” with muscles like those”

“You think I’d hit a woman?”

“It’s the apocalypse. If laws don’t exist, neither does moral code. I follow them still…but still”

“I don’t hit women.” Daryl scoffs. “How do yea fit in there?”

“I don’t know you well enough to share my skills. But I do feel a little better knowing you’re not gonna throw a left hook at my face” the woman began to fully pull herself out of the container and when she stepped out, she locked eyes with the archer’s confused yet curious ones. “Okay I trust you about not killing me but why haven’t you left?”

“Gonna ask yea a few things if that’s okay with you”

“Sure I guess” She put the lid back on the box before taking a seat and crossing her arms.

“How many walkers have you killed?”

“Lost count a long time ago”

“How many people have you killed?”

“Four”

“Why?”

The woman went silent for a moment and avoided eye contact as she held herself. “They were my friends, and brother who were about to turn. They didn’t want to be taken out as a walker and didn’t want to become one so. You know…”

“I do” Daryl leaned against one of the shelves. “It’s hard to take someone you care about out after they’ve changed”

“Getting deep with me and we don’t even know each other’s name”

“Daryl”

“Y/N”

Then she joined their group right then and there. The others that came with Daryl liked her, didn’t trust her right away but given her attitude immediately when it came to them asking the same questions Daryl asked—-both Glenn and Michonne knew that they will grow to trust her. Same with the others. Returning back to the prison with a lot more than they had expected helped the initial image of the new comer. Y/N hoarded a lot of stuff so thinking that she would survive alone in there.

Some part of Daryl wanted Y/N to take the empty cell in their cellblock but given he didn’t speak up and Rick showed her one of the others, that wasn’t happening.

But she was very involved with helping around the prison.

“You good up there Y/N?” Rick calls out to her receiving a thumbs up while she continued to work with fixing part of the fence that disconnected from the gate.

The retired sheriff watches his brother pull in on his bike but stop to watch Y/N a moment. She dropped her wire cutters and as it hit the grass, Daryl hopped off his bike about to grab it when he quickly took a step back when Y/N jumped down somersaulting in the dirt.

“The hell is wrong with you?!” Daryl shouted as Y/N stood up immediately, stretching her back after her action. “Yea could’ve cracked your head open!”

“I’ve done it a million times before. Don’t worry your pretty little head”

“A million times? What, in the circus?”

“How did you know?” Y/N smiles catching him off guard at first and even more when she broke out in laughter. “I wasn’t in the circus dumbass. I’ve done a lot of risky stuff and…gymnastics. But what just happened is nothing compared to other stuff” she states while throwing herself back so she was then in a bridged position and Daryl watched her upper half lay flat on its stomach showing her crawl between her legs and hold her ankles. Exorcist shit.

“Now I think you’re an alien”

“Rude” Y/N scoffs as such action was a bit uncomfortable given her twisted position. “It definitely impressed and freaked out a few hook ups”

Now that led Rick to leave from overhearing their conversation, both knowing damn well he was there. He opened the gate once Y/N was back in the upright position and Daryl was still left appalled somewhat.

Y/N was definitely making a good impression on most. Has been on every run that was planned and no one opposed, she’s especially useful in tight situations.

“Alright, so I was thinking we break down the door and then—-“ Tyreese cut himself off when Y/N gestured for Maggie’s help to hoist her up and she happily obliged.

Next thing the group knew, Y/N was pushing herself through the small window above the locked door landing on the other side and unlocking it.

“Or that” Sasha chimes in with a laugh and smile, impressed by the woman. “Now we don’t have to almost break ourselves to get into places” she walked past her as Y/N brushes off some of the dirt checking her person carefully. Said actions didn’t go unnoticed by Daryl.

After a couple hours passed, the four returned to the prison and dispersed but as Daryl stuck by his bike a moment he noticed Y/N straggling a bit. She stood for a while glancing around and turned to Daryl with a questioning look before turning away.

“If yea need something, you can ask” He didn’t hesitate as Y/N slumped in defeat before turning around and approaching him.

“Crack my back”

“What?” Daryl scoffs confused as he wiped the grime off his hands with his rag. “How am I supposed to do that?”

“Imma turn around cross my arms and you’re going to wrap your arms around me then lean back until a crack is heard.” Y/N explained in the most layman terms she could think of and it clicked instantly to Daryl but he hesitated a moment.

“Is that what yea want?”

“Yes, well. What I really want is someone to step on my back but all of y’all aren’t trained to do that and back in the day I had a friend who was a masseuse.”

“Well, I’ll do my best” Daryl grunts bringing himself over after tossing his rag on his bike watching her turn around and do what she had to do before he wrapped his arms around her. “Just lean back holding yea?”

“Yup” Y/N felt a sudden warmth rise in her chest when she was being lifted and the heat came clear in her cheeks expressing more of a red hue.

She heard the crack a bit ago but they both just. Stood there and it went from Daryl holding her to them both holding each other. Still Y/N’s back against his chest but her arms held onto his. Daryl relaxed setting her down but the way he held her for much longer and Y/N didn’t show any sign of letting go.

There was something

When the illness washed through the prison and a few were sent to get the medicine, Y/N found herself in the doorway watching Bob shove alcohol into his bag. He turned toward her realizing she was there and instead of talking first, he quickly took a bottle and threw it in her direction watching her quickly fall back then swing her body back forward.

“Jesus fucking Christ what are you? One of those inflatable car sales string cheese looking things?!”

“That’s very descriptive. Are you gonna be the same way when telling me why you have a goddamn bag of alcohol and not medicine to save our people”

“Oh for fucks sake! You and I are the newest people at the prison and you’re willing to bend over backwards—-even literally—-for people you barely know”

“So?!”

“SO?!” Bob shouted which caught another’s attention, Michonne as the conversation ended the second she joined. Bob brushed past her as she quickly gave a concerned look to Y/N.

I’m fine. Was all Y/N gave her as she stepped out.

Of course the booze was found out by Daryl and that was a more explosive mess to address than when Y/N first confronted him. But it all stopped mattering when they finally got their medicine into their people.

After getting their medicine in, Daryl went in search for Y/N who disappeared after they did such. It didn’t take long to find her because she was in her cell but she was alone in the old Woodbury cell block. Because of the outbreak.

“You alright?” Daryl asks Y/N even if she was currently hiding under her deconstructed bunk.

“Yeah”

“Don’t look like it”

A few seconds of silence. “Yeah…” she sounded defeated and pulls her entire self out from under bringing herself to sit on her bed. Daryl bringing himself to sit with her leaning his back against the wall.

“You can trust me, with whatever is on your mind”

“It’s strange…how easily it was for Bob to just. Not care about the others in the heat of the moment”

“Some people are just like that. Somethin’ or someone has to change them”

“I used to be like that. Not a warm caring person when this thing first started. I just. Had moments that changed me”

“Yeah?” Daryl gave her a questioning look that she noticed in the corner of her eye. “What changed yea?”

“Having to end the lives of people I cared for, the ones who got bit. When…” Y/N hesitated a second before looking at Daryl. “When I met you”

She’s full of surprises isn’t she? Daryl could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he never felt that feeling before.

But this moment was short lived like the many that followed after.

Until they found themselves alone weeks later…in a new place, with strange new people. Y/N stuck by Daryl’s side since they first entered Alexandria and given how the archer was feeling from all the loss, he would find himself following her if she were to stray or disappear from his side for too long.

“Can you hand me the socket wrench?” Daryl asks while under the car Aaron drives for recruiting as he was asked to check something out for the man. Y/N being there to help in any way even if it is just handing tools to the archer.

Y/N was currently repairing one of the angel wings on Daryl’s vest which led her to using her leg to reach toward the bench then her foot hooked onto the handle of the tool box. She then carefully bent so that she could grasp the box with her hands and go through the kit for what he asked for.

“Damn”

The annoyingly familiar voice caught both of their attentions as Daryl pushes out on the skateboard sitting up to look at Spencer confused. Y/N equally confused on the matter while handing the tool over.

“You know I saw you the other day doing your…morning stretches or whatever. Didn’t think you’d be THAT flexible…and limber…” Spencer was starting, or continuing to make Y/N uncomfortable as he starts to check her out making her cover herself with Daryl’s vest in her lap.

Daryl quickly taking note of the reaction and glaring at the man. “Beat it”

“I wasn’t talking to you” Spencer brushed him off keeping his attention on Y/N. “I bet you’re even more flexible in more intimate situations”

Y/N scoffs instantly but before she could bite the guy’s head off. She felt herself being pulled toward Daryl’s direction. Daryl having grabbed the blanket she was seated on pulling it closer to him so he could protectively wrap his arm around her shoulders as she instinctively leaned into him.

“She’s taken. Now I’d fuck off and bother somebody else before your mommy sees her little boy’s face smashed the fuck in” Daryl threats and didn’t let his guard down but it got Spencer to storm off defeated. “What a tool”

“He’s not wrong about something”

“Huh?”

“I am very flexible when we’re intimate” Y/N laughs slightly catching her own boyfriend off guard resulting in the red hue rising in his cheeks.

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

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wannabehockeygf · 13 days

Text

cut my hair - matthew tkachuk

part of the think later fic series

"Just wanna cut my hair Lose myself Make you sweat Go out and get messed up Find myself in your bed"

***

request: “heyyyyy me again. Would you be able to do another Matthew Tkachuk for cut my hair? a lil angsty and smuty with a happy ending. Thank you!”

summary: after being dumped, you make it your mission to have him regret everything. word count: 9.2k pairing: matthew tkachuk x fem!reader warnings: 18+ NSFW! Unprotected sex, talk about sex in the past, a lot of slightly kinky shit (biting and stuff like that, not too crazy), creampie, alcohol, sex in public (but sort of hidden?) degradation & degrading talk, toxic relationship. notes: - i actually started this a few days ago & then i got a request for something similar so i tweaked it. girl u read my mind.

-^ my loyal requester. please don’t worry about sending too much in, trust me I love you for it, but don’t expect things too quickly ❤️ - ^^ this is barely edited or proof read. i tried but there's gonna be repetitive shit & i'll probably end up tweaking it but here it is yayyy - haven't written smut in a while 😋 - guys as much as i love chucky & quinn i really would like to write about people from the team i support the most...(the leafs if you somehow couldn't tell?) so i'm gonna be focusing on them for a bit & if you would like to request one (or clayton keller, he's my exception) please do! - ^ that being said, i will start working on qhxga pt.3 soon. - in light of everything going on, i would like to clarify matthew has not drinken anything in this despite him being in a bar & this being fiction. PLEASE don't drink and drive. ***

You’re mad.

You’re mad about a lot of things. Which is weird, because usually, you’re not mad, you just bask in your misery all day.

You’re too touchy-feely for your own good. The sad girl act is getting old, and you know it.

At least, that’s what he told you.

“You’re so fucking dramatic! Like, holy shit, can you just let go for once and have fun? Because that’s it. That’s all we’re doing, we’re having fun. I don’t give a fuck about your feelings, I’m not the guy you’ll marry!”

The lump in your throat seems to grow by the second as you try to speak. “So what, you’re saying we should break up?”

Matthew scoffs over the line, and you can basically imagine him pacing his apartment, tugging at the curly strands of his hair as if it could make him think more clearly. “We were never dating! But if you really want to see it that way, then, fuck yes, let’s break up.”

The phone call ends with a click, but the sound echoes in your head like a slammed door. Matthew’s words hang in the air, and for a second, you just stand there, staring at your phone screen as if expecting an apology to pop up. But it doesn’t. Because he never does that.

You feel the burn of unshed tears behind your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. Not this time. His voice still rings in your ears, mocking you. You’re so dramatic. Maybe he’s right, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. You chew your lip, pacing your small apartment. Your reflection catches your eye in the hallway mirror—your long hair falling in waves past your shoulders, the way Matthew always said he liked it. Suddenly, the sight of it makes your stomach twist with resentment.

He doesn’t care about you. He never did.

The anger rushes through your veins, fueling you, pushing you towards the scissors in your bathroom drawer. You grip them tightly, the cool metal biting into your palm as you lift them to your hair. He liked it long, huh? A bitter laugh escapes your throat. Without giving yourself time to overthink, you hack off the first chunk, watching it fall into the sink. It feels… freeing. With every cut, it’s like you’re snipping away the pieces of yourself that he’s picked apart. The version of you that wanted him to love her. Gone. The version that begged for scraps of his attention. Gone.

When you’re done, you barely recognize yourself. The hair that once framed your face is gone, leaving behind a sharp, choppy cut that makes you look fiercer, harder. It feels good.

The little black dress hangs in the back of your closet, practically taunting you. You haven’t worn it in months—Matthew hated it. Said it was too much, too revealing, that it would draw attention. But tonight, that’s exactly what you want. You pull it on, the soft fabric clinging to your curves in all the right places. You glance in the mirror once more, a smirk curling your lips. Let him see what he’s missing.

“Let’s see who’s too dramatic now,” you mutter, grabbing your purse. The night is still young, and you know exactly where he’ll be. The bar on 5th Street, right near your apartment—his favorite, your least favorite. It always smells like spilled beer and desperation. Fitting, considering that’s where you met him.

Your heels click against the pavement with each determined step outside. You’re buzzing with anticipation, nerves, and spite. It’s like electricity under your skin, the kind that makes your hands shake but your heart pound in excitement. There’s something so satisfying about this, about showing up like this, looking like you don’t give a damn when, really, you give so many. Too many.

You try not to think about what he’ll say when he sees you. You can already imagine his eyebrows shooting up, that condescending smirk tugging at his lips. “What the hell did you do to your hair?” he’d say, because that’s Matthew—always focusing on the superficial, on the surface, never diving deeper. But tonight, you don’t want him to dive. You want him to drown.

The bar looms ahead, its neon sign flickering like some kind of cheap welcome–you know he’ll be here. You hesitate for only a second before pushing the door open, the familiar smell of alcohol and sweat hitting you like a wave. Your eyes scan the room, searching, until you find him. He’s leaning against the bar, laughing with some girl, unopened Corona in hand. He doesn’t see you at first, but you see him.

Your stomach twists in knots, anger and nerves swirling together. For a brief moment, you wonder if this was a mistake. If you’re being too... well, dramatic. But then his voice from earlier echoes in your head: “I don’t give a fuck about your feelings.”

Your spine straightens, resolve hardening like steel.

You walk toward him, every step feeling like an eternity. He turns, and there it is—his eyes widen, confusion flashing across his face before that stupid smirk settles in. He looks you up and down, taking in the dress, the hair, the new you. You can feel the anger bubbling up again, but there’s something else lurking beneath it—a twisted satisfaction at the way his mouth hangs open slightly, like he doesn’t know what to say. You arch a brow, waiting for the inevitable comment. He doesn't disappoint.

“What the hell did you do to your hair?”

There it is. Just like you predicted, and somehow, it still stings. Of course, he’d focus on that first. Not the fact that you showed up here looking like a goddamn queen in the dress he hates, not the fact that you’ve changed in a way he can’t even begin to comprehend—no, it’s always the surface with him.

You cross your arms, throwing every ounce of defiance into your stance. “I cut it,” you say, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Thanks for noticing.”

Matthew’s eyes narrow, his smirk faltering just for a second before he recovers. “Yeah, I noticed. What, you having a meltdown or something?”

There’s the laugh. The one that makes you feel small, like you’re just a joke to him. Your blood boils at the sound, but you force yourself to keep your expression steady, hiding the tremor in your voice as you reply. “Maybe I am. Or maybe I just got tired of pretending to be the version of me that you liked. Ever think of that?”

He blinks, thrown off by the venom in your words. For a second, you wonder if he’ll apologize, if he’ll say something that softens the sharp edges of this moment. But no. Matthew is Matthew, and his pride won’t let him back down.

“Jesus, you’re really something, huh?” His smirk deepens, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes now—something like recognition, like maybe he’s starting to see the version of you he never bothered to notice. The one that’s done waiting for him to care. “You don’t have to get all dramatic about it. We were just having fun, that’s all.”

Your heart hammers in your chest, each beat like a drum, loud and insistent. He’s standing there, smug and arrogant, as if he still holds some kind of power over you. Like you’re a joke. Like you haven’t just hacked off your hair and thrown on the dress that makes you feel like a goddess in defiance of everything he’s ever said.

And yet, despite the burn of his words, you can’t deny the pull. That stupid, magnetic draw that he has over you. You hate it. You hate him. But there’s something intoxicating about the way he’s looking at you now, a flash of something dangerous in his eyes. Something you recognize all too well.

“I’m dramatic?” Your voice rises, thick with sarcasm, but the pain seeps through, like a tear you can’t stitch up fast enough. “You’re the one who just broke up with me—or, sorry—broke up with me from the relationship that apparently never existed. So excuse me if I’m a little dramatic, Matthew.”

He leans back against the bar, taking another sip of his drink, his gaze never leaving yours. There’s that look again. You know it well—half-annoyed, half-amused, like you’re entertaining him somehow, like this whole mess is just another game to him. His lips twitch, like he’s fighting a smirk. "Well, if you're gonna throw a tantrum every time something doesn’t go your way, maybe this is for the best.”

Your hands ball into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms as the anger bubbles beneath your skin, ready to burst. You want to scream at him, to tell him he’s an asshole, that he’ll never deserve you. But the words lodge in your throat, tangled up with the hurt, and instead, all you can do is glare at him. God, you hate him. You hate how he knows exactly what to say to get under your skin, to make you feel small, even now.

But as much as you want to storm out, to prove that you’re better than this, you can’t. You’re rooted to the spot, locked in place by the storm brewing between you. The air feels electric, like something is about to snap, and you can feel it—this pull between the anger and something else, something darker and heavier.

You take a step forward, closing the distance between you two. The smell of his cologne—woodsy, warm—hits you, and it pisses you off even more because it brings back memories you don’t want. Late nights tangled in his sheets, the way his lips felt against your neck, the stupid, tender moments that don’t match this Matthew standing in front of you, smirking like none of it mattered. Like you don’t matter.

“God, you’re such a prick,” you mutter, your voice low, barely more than a whisper. But he hears it. His smirk falters for just a second, and in that moment, you see it—something cracks behind his eyes. A flicker of uncertainty, maybe even guilt. But it’s gone as quickly as it came.

“Oh, I’m the prick? That’s rich coming from the girl who’s been throwing herself at me for months,” he fires back, his voice dripping with mockery. His words sting, but you don’t flinch. You’re done letting him hurt you. Not tonight, but then he keeps then talking. “You wanna know why I never saw this as anything more than fun? Because you pull this shit. Every time. You get all clingy and needy, and it’s fucking exhausting."

You stand there, staring at him, his words a knife twisting deeper and deeper into your chest with every syllable. Clingy. Needy. Exhausting. They echo in your head, bouncing around like cruel little taunts, each one sharpening your anger until it feels like it’s going to spill out of you, red-hot and uncontrollable.

Clingy? You’ve been "clingy?"

You almost laugh out loud at the absurdity of it, but instead, the sound that escapes you is more of a strangled scoff. How dare he? How dare he act like you’re the problem? Like you’ve been the one hanging on too tight, when all you ever did was try to be close to him. All you wanted was to feel wanted by him, but apparently, that made you exhausting.

The room feels smaller, the air heavier, like the world’s closing in on you. Or maybe that’s just your body’s way of processing the tidal wave of rage, hurt, and—goddamn it—desire that’s pulling you in too many directions at once. You can barely think straight, your heart pounding in your ears as his smirk only deepens, like he knows he’s hit a nerve and is more than happy to twist the knife in further.

Exhausting? You can feel your blood boiling beneath your skin, heating you from the inside out. No, you’re not exhausting—you’re furious.

He has the audacity to stand there, cool as ever, his gaze sliding down your body as if this entire thing is nothing more than a minor inconvenience for him. You want to slap him. You want to scream at him. You want to walk out of this bar and never see him again. But instead, you’re rooted to the spot, because there’s something else simmering beneath the rage—a sick, twisted pull that’s keeping you here, stuck in this toxic mess of a situation, and it’s only getting harder to ignore.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you swallow hard, trying to compose yourself before you lose it completely. “Clingy, huh? Is that what you call wanting a fucking relationship? Needing someone to actually give a shit about you?”

Your words are sharp, biting, but there’s a tremor beneath them, the anger barely masking the hurt that’s been clawing at you since the phone call. Matthew doesn’t miss it. His eyes flicker, just for a second, like he almost feels bad, but then his expression hardens again, that irritating, cocky grin sliding back into place as if he’s made of stone.

“Yeah, well, maybe if you didn’t act like the world’s ending every time I don’t text you back, we wouldn’t be here,” he retorts, his voice laced with mockery. He takes another step closer, his body towering over you, the heat of him pressing into your space, but you stand your ground, refusing to be the one to flinch first. “You get so goddamn dramatic about everything. I didn’t sign up for that shit.”

His words should make you snap, should make you storm out of this bar with your dignity intact, but instead, you’re frozen. Your heart is hammering in your chest, but not just from anger. No, it’s that stupid, horrible, unbearable attraction. The one that makes you want to punch him and kiss him all at once. The scent of his cologne strengthens, the same one that used to cling to your sheets after he’d sneak out in the morning. The same one that’s tied to every bad decision you’ve ever made where he’s concerned. And God, you hate him for it.

“You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, voice low and tight, but your throat is closing in around the words. “I’ve been throwing myself at you? Right. Like you weren’t the one showing up at my place at two in the morning, wanting to ‘hang out’ when we both know what that meant.”

His smirk falters again, but not for long. He steps even closer, close enough now that you can see the flicker of something darker in his eyes. A spark that you know all too well. The same one that got you into this mess in the first place. You shouldn’t still be here, you shouldn’t still be entertaining this bullshit, but it’s like your body and mind are at war, and your body’s starting to win. Your fists clench at your sides as he leans in, close enough that his breath brushes your skin when he speaks.

“You loved every second of it,” he says, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. “Don’t act like you didn’t. Like you didn’t beg for it.”

That’s it. That’s the final straw. Something inside you snaps, and before you can think better of it, your hand lashes out, shoving him hard in the chest. He barely stumbles, but the shock in his eyes is enough to make you feel a small, fleeting victory. “Fuck you, Matthew,” you spit out, your voice trembling. “I didn’t beg for shit. You’re the one who kept coming back, like some... like some goddamn parasite!”

The second the words leave your mouth, you expect him to snap back, to yell, to argue. But instead, his eyes darken, his jaw clenches, and there’s something in the way he’s looking at you now—like he’s two seconds away from either tearing into you or kissing you. And you hate that you can’t tell which one you want more.

The air between you is thick, suffocating. You’re breathing hard, your chest rising and falling rapidly, and he’s right there, barely inches away, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his body. And then, as if some invisible thread snaps between you, he moves.

In an instant, his hands are on you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you forward, and before you can protest or even think, his lips crash into yours.

It’s not gentle. It’s not sweet. It’s desperate, angry, a mess of teeth and tongues and heat. You want to push him away, to scream at him, to throw something, but instead, you find yourself kissing him back just as hard, your body betraying every rational thought in your head. It’s like everything inside you is on fire, all the rage and hurt and lust combusting into one reckless, overwhelming need.

His hands are rough as they grab your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you gasp into his mouth, your fingers tangling in the front of his shirt as if you’re trying to ground yourself, to keep from getting swept up in the tornado of emotions swirling around you. But it’s no use. You’re already lost in it.

The kiss deepens, and you can taste his signature mint gum on his breath, can feel the urgency in the way he’s touching you, like he can’t get enough. Like he needs you as much as you hate needing him right now. Your back hits the bar, and he presses into you, his body solid and warm, and it feels so familiar, so maddeningly familiar that you could scream.

This is wrong. This is so, so wrong.

But you don’t stop. Neither of you do. Because even though you know this is a bad idea, even though you know you’ll regret this in the morning, right now, it feels like the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely.

His hands slide down to your hips, gripping tightly, and you moan into his mouth, your body arching against his. The sound makes him groan, low and rough, and he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and wild, his lips swollen from the kiss. “You wanna get out of here, princess?” he whispers, his voice rough, “Or did you want to put on a show for everyone? You were obviously planning on it, with this slutty little thing.” he punctates his last words by snapping your visible bra strap against your shoulder, making you gasp.

Your breath hitches at the sting of his words, but there’s a part of you that thrills at the edge of humiliation, at the way he’s using your vulnerability against you. It’s twisted, but it’s like a key unlocking something deep inside you. You’ve been fighting so hard, trying to stay in control, but with him so close, with him touching you and talking to you like this, everything unravels.

“Get a grip, Matthew,” you manage to snarl, though the tremor in your voice betrays you. “You don’t get to act like you’re above this when you’re the one who dragged me into this mess.”

His eyes flash with something dark, almost predatory. “Dragged you? You came running. Don’t pretend you didn’t want this, didn’t want me to notice you. This whole act—” he gestures vaguely at your dress and hair, “—is just you trying to get me to see you. Well, guess what? I see you. And you know what? I don’t fucking care.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, but you can’t back down now. You’re in too deep, and the anger mixing with your lust makes you reckless. “I don’t need you to care,” you snap, grabbing his collar and pulling him closer. “I just need you to fuck me right now. Show me how much you don’t care.”

His lips are on yours again before you can even think, stealing your breath and your sanity all at once. You hate him for it. God, you hate how easily he can undo you, how quickly he makes you forget why you’re angry in the first place. But even as the thought crosses your mind, you’re kissing him back, harder this time, as if the sheer force of it will somehow knock sense into both of you. Spoiler: it doesn’t.

Your body presses up against his, the heat between you almost unbearable, and you can feel him smirking into the kiss, the bastard. You want to wipe that cocky look off his face, but at the same time, you want to see just how far he’s willing to push you. It’s like every nerve in your body is buzzing, caught between wanting to slap him and wanting to strip him down and ride him until neither of you can remember your own names. The worst part? You’re not sure which one you’ll end up doing first.

He bites down on your bottom lip, sharp and deliberate, and you gasp, the pain only fueling the fire inside you. "That all you got, princess?" he mutters against your mouth, his voice a low, mocking growl. It’s the same tone that’s always driven you insane, always made you want to throw something at him—and now, it’s making you wet. Great.

You narrow your eyes, wrenching yourself away from his mouth long enough to glare at him. “Don’t call me that,” you spit, hating how breathless you sound, hating how much you’re giving away with every ragged inhale.

He just grins, the kind of grin that makes you want to slap him, but instead, you find your hand curling into the front of his shirt, yanking him closer. “What, don’t like your cute little nickname? I thought you loved attention, baby.”

“I don’t need your fucking attention,” you shoot back, though the lie burns your throat on the way out. “I just need you to shut up and make yourself useful for once.”

He chuckles darkly, his fingers digging into your hips with bruising force, and something about the way he’s looking at you makes your stomach flip. You hate how easy it is for him to get under your skin, how quickly he can strip away all the walls you’ve built up around yourself. “Useful, huh?” he repeats, his voice dripping with mockery as he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. “Funny, I don’t remember you complaining the last time I had you screaming my name.”

Your breath catches in your throat, but you refuse to let him see how much that rattles you. “That was a fluke,” you mutter, though your voice wavers. “Let’s not pretend it meant anything.”

That was a fluke? Did you really just try to sell that lie? The memory of his name leaving your lips—no, leaving your throat in a desperate, pleading gasp—burns behind your eyelids. You can still feel the ghost of his hands on your skin, the way he pulled sounds from you that you didn’t even know you were capable of making. And now, here you are, trying to convince him, and yourself, that it didn’t mean a thing.

Pathetic.

The silence stretches for a beat too long, your throat tight with the effort of holding back all the things you want to say, all the venom you want to spit right in his smug, infuriating face. He’s just standing there, practically vibrating with amusement, like he knows he’s won this round. And that—that’s what sends your anger spiking again, turning into something molten.

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear, and you shiver despite yourself. “Fluke, huh?” His voice is low, dangerous, and you hate that it sends a ripple of something dark and wanting straight through your core. “So, if I touched you right now—if I slipped my fingers under that pathetic excuse of a dress—I'd find you soaking wet by accident?”

You hate him. You hate him so much, it hurts.

Without thinking, you pull back just enough to whisper, “Let’s get out of here.” Your voice is rough, breathless, and you hate that he’s the reason for it.

His eyes flash with something dark, something feral, and he smirks down at you, his lips swollen and red. “Yeah?” he taunts, his hands still tight on your hips. “You want me that bad?”

You grit your teeth, hating how he twists everything, how he always knows exactly where to hit. “Fuck you,” you bite out, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Take me somewhere, or I’ll find someone who will.”

His grip on you tightens dangerously, his eyes flashing with anger and something else, something possessive. “Over my dead fucking body.”

Before you can blink, he’s pulling you away from the bar, his hand gripping yours tightly, practically dragging you through the throngs of people. You stumble after him, your head spinning, your body still buzzing with adrenaline and anger and lust. The music pounds around you, the heat from the crowd suffocating, but all you can focus on is the way his hand feels in yours, the way your heart pounds in your chest like it’s trying to break free.

It’s reckless. It’s insane. And it’s exactly what you need.

The air outside should be cooler–but it’s not. It’s humid, sticky, and uncomfortably warm, Florida summers coming into full effect. The night threatens to swallow you both whole as he hauls you down a side alley, the noise of the club fading but the adrenaline still roaring through your veins. Every step you take feels like it’s leading you further into the eye of the storm, and even though you know there’s no going back now, you can’t stop. You don’t want to stop.

“What’s the rush?” you sneer, yanking at his hand, though not hard enough to actually break his grip. “Afraid I’ll change my mind?”

He glances back at you, that infuriating smirk tugging at the corner of his swollen lips. “Nah, princess. I’m just getting us somewhere quiet so I don’t have to listen to your whining while I fuck the attitude out of you.”

Your throat tightens, a hot flush crawling up your neck as you realize where this is headed. A dingy alley behind a club, dimly lit and reeking of stale beer and cigarette smoke—this is where it’s going to happen? Your body is screaming at you to care, to turn around and leave, but your legs keep moving forward, drawn to him like a moth to the flame.

He pulls you into a narrow alcove, barely wide enough for both of you, and the second you’re tucked inside, he’s on you. His body presses against yours, firm and demanding, and it’s all you can do to keep your knees from buckling as his hands grip your waist like he owns you.

This is ridiculous. How did you end up here? Again. Every damn time. You swore after the last time that you were done—that you wouldn’t let him crawl back into your space, under your skin, and wrap his filthy, bruising grip around your heart. But here you are, yet again, like some stupid moth drawn to the inferno that is Matthew Tkachuk.

You want to shove him away, to scream in his face that you’re not the girl who falls for this. Except, you know better. You are exactly the girl who falls for this. The one who caves when he looks at you with those maddening blue eyes. The girl who lets him wreck her in alleyways behind clubs in the sticky heat of a Florida night, knowing damn well how this will end: messily.

“Still pretending, huh?” His voice rumbles low against your ear, mocking and sharp. He’s pressed so close you can feel every word vibrate through you, igniting your nerves like a lit fuse. "You keep telling yourself you hate this, but you're so fucking obvious. Look at you—" he pauses, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulls your body tighter against his, "—practically melting into me. If you were any more desperate, you’d be begging."

The insult should sting. It should make you slap him, curse him out, anything—but instead, a fire blooms in your chest, fierce and hot, because the bastard’s not entirely wrong. And isn’t that just the worst part? He knows how to press every button, dig under your skin like it’s his damn playground, and worse yet, you let him. Every. Single. Time.

“You’re so full of yourself, you know that?” Your voice is breathless, each word shaky and ragged, but at least you still manage to get them out. “You think you’ve got me figured out? Please. The only reason I’m here is because no one else in this godforsaken place knows how to shut you up.”

The second the words leave your mouth, you regret them—not because you don’t mean it (you do)—but because it only serves to fuel him. That cocky grin spreads across his face, slow and deliberate, like he knows he’s won something. His eyes flicker with amusement, the kind that makes you want to punch him in the throat.

“Shut me up?” he repeats, one brow arching. He leans in, lips brushing your ear as he speaks, voice low and dripping with arrogance. “Funny, you didn’t seem so eager to shut me up the last time I had you moaning my name loud enough to wake up half the fucking city. So, what’s the plan this time? You gonna play hard to get until you’re dripping for me again?”

Heat rushes to your face, your pulse racing at the way he’s goading you. The memory of that night comes rushing back with startling clarity—the way he made you unravel piece by piece, the sounds he dragged out of you, your body shaking in his hands. No. Not again. You grit your teeth, fighting back the whirlwind of feelings that threatens to consume you.

“God, you really are delusional,” you bite out, shoving at his chest, though it’s mostly for show. His body barely moves under your weak attempt to push him off. “I’m not here because I want you. I’m here because I pity you. You always need someone to tell you what a good job you’re doing, don’t you, Tkachuk? Can’t go five minutes without being validated.”

It’s a low blow, you know it. But you’re playing dirty, because that’s what this is—dirty, ugly, and twisted beyond recognition. His expression darkens for a split second, and you think maybe you’ve gotten through that thick skull of his. But then his grip on your waist tightens painfully, and suddenly you’re pinned against the wall, your back pressing hard against the brick harder, the air punched out of your lungs by the force.

“Oh, I don’t need validation from you, princess,” he snarls, his face inches from yours now. His lips curl in that infuriating smirk, all teeth and malice, and it sends a shiver down your spine. “I get that plenty from everyone else. You’re just the one who can’t seem to keep your legs closed when I’m around.”

You hate that his words stirs something in you, some deep, primal urge you’d rather ignore. He can see it too, the way your breath catches, the faint flush that creeps up your neck. Every scathing insult, every venomous remark felt like a bruise that you both pressed harder into because neither of you could seem to stop. And worse, some traitorous part of you doesn’t want to stop. You’re furious—at him, at yourself, at how easily you let him turn you into someone else entirely. Someone who gets off on the ugly, spiteful mess you make together.

But what do you do when that mess feels so fucking good?

Your thoughts swirl, a chaotic storm, as his eyes bore into yours, dark and predatory, daring you to do something—anything. God, how do you always end up here? You swore you were done. You told yourself that the last time he fucked you against a wall like you were something to be used and discarded. You’ve never been able to stay away, though, and the worst part? He knows it.

“You’re disgusting,” you hiss, the words tearing from your throat as if that could somehow free you from the pull he has on you. “You think you can talk to me like that and I’ll still—” But your words die in your throat as his hand slides up your side, fingers pushing over the straps of your dress. The sensation makes you jump, a sharp gasp escaping before you can bite it back. Goddamn him.

His lips curve into a wicked grin, eyes narrowing like a predator who’s caught the scent of blood. “Still pretending you don’t like this?” he breathes, his voice a slow, dangerous drawl that rakes over your skin. His other hand trails lower, brushing the inside of your thigh, and your body betrays you—your legs quiver, and he feels it. Of course, he does. “Tell me again how much you hate this,” he mocks, his lips grazing your ear, the words sending a shudder down your spine. “Go ahead. Convince yourself you don’t want my hands all over you right now.”

I hate this. I hate him. You keep repeating it, as if the words could solidify and become truth, as if you could convince your traitorous body to listen. But no matter how hard you try to summon any real anger, all that rises is a wave of heat that feels like it's going to swallow you whole. You feel him smirk against your skin, his breath hot on your neck, and it makes something in you snap.

"God, you're so fucking predictable," you sneer, even though your voice trembles. "Always gotta prove you're the big man, huh? Does it get tiring, being this pathetic?"

You’re trying, trying so hard to dig your heels in, to maintain some sense of power in this wretched game you’ve both played a hundred times before. But you know—he knows—it’s crumbling fast. His hand is already inching higher, under your skirt, rough fingers ghosting along the inside of your thigh, and every ounce of resolve you cling to feels like it's slipping through your fingers.

Don’t react, you tell yourself. Don’t give him the satisfaction. But then his fingers brush the edge of your panties, and your whole body jerks involuntarily, a shuddering gasp escaping your lips before you can stop it. And there it is. The crack in your armor, the proof that despite all your sharp words, your body is already begging for him.

"Still got that smart mouth, huh?" His voice is velvet laced with venom, a dangerous drawl that makes your skin tingle. "It’s funny, you talk such a big game, but I’m pretty sure I can feel how much you want this. You’re soaked."

His words slam into you, making your cheeks burn with humiliation, but there’s no denying it. You can feel it—the heat pooling between your legs, the dampness that betrays everything you’ve been trying to deny. It’s pathetic, really. How he can reduce you to this, turn you inside out with just a few touches and that goddamn voice.

“I fucking hate you,” you hiss, pushing at his chest again, but the movement is weak, half-hearted. You’re shaking—whether from rage, lust, or some twisted cocktail of both, you don’t even know anymore. But he doesn’t move, not even an inch. Instead, he presses closer, so close you can feel every inch of him against you, hard and insistent.

“Yeah?” His lips curl into a smirk, eyes dark and glinting with amusement. “Funny how hate looks a lot like you grinding on me, sweetheart. You sure you don’t want to rethink that?”

Your body answers before your brain can. Without meaning to, your hips roll against him, just a slight shift, but enough to make his breath hitch. And God, the satisfaction that flares in your chest at that tiny victory is intoxicating. But it’s short-lived, because suddenly you’re hyper-aware of where you are—pressed against a brick wall in the sticky heat of a dimly lit alley, where anyone could walk by at any moment.

Your pulse spikes with a new kind of anxiety. “Wait,” you breathe, suddenly feeling exposed, raw. You push at him again, harder this time. “Not here. Someone could—”

But Matthew doesn’t even blink. If anything, his grin widens, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he leans in closer, his breath hot on your ear. “Oh, what’s this? Now you’re getting shy? That’s cute.” His fingers rub your thigh, a deliberate, maddening slowness that makes you want to scream. “Don’t tell me the idea of someone catching us is what’s really got you worked up.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, a dizzying mix of arousal and panic swirling in your veins. You’ve never been this close to losing control in public before, and the idea of someone seeing you like this—needy, desperate, coming undone under Matthew’s hands—it sends a jolt of fear straight to your core. Although you’d deny it, there’s a tiny part of you, buried deep, that doesn’t hate it.

“Matthew, I’m serious,” you manage, though your voice is strained, shaky. “We can’t—”

“Oh, now you care about getting caught?” he cuts you off, amusement dripping from every word. “Come on, don’t act like this is the first time we’ve done something reckless. Admit it—you like it.” His hand slips underneath your panties, pressing against the heat there, and your knees nearly buckle. “You like knowing someone might see what a filthy mess you are for me.”

A soft, involuntary whimper escapes your lips, and it’s like throwing gasoline on a fire. His grip tightens, his body pressing harder against yours, pinning you firmly in place. You can feel him—all of him—and it only makes the ache between your legs worse. Your body is betraying you at every turn, no matter how much your mind is screaming at you to stop.

“Filthy mess?” You force out a bitter laugh, your chest heaving, trying desperately to regain some sense of control, but your body is betraying you at every turn. You can feel the wetness between your legs, undeniable, a humiliating testament to just how much he affects you. “Coming from the guy who begged to get his dick sucked the last time? Please. You’re so easy, Matthew. One touch and you’re practically falling apart like a teenager.”

His eyes darken at the insult, that dangerous spark flaring behind them, and you know you’ve hit a nerve. But instead of backing off, he leans in, his lips grazing your ear as he speaks, his breath hot and ragged. “Keep running that mouth, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low and lethal. “Let’s see how long you last before you’re begging me to fuck you.”

Your pulse quickens, your stomach twisting at the way his words seep into your skin like venom. You hate that he’s right—hate that he knows exactly how to unravel you with just a few touches, a few sharp words. His hand moves again, slipping further down, his fingers sliding over your slick folds, and you can’t stop the soft gasp that escapes your lips. It’s involuntary, humiliating, and the satisfaction that flickers in his eyes makes your blood boil.

His fingers press harder, slipping inside you, and a sharp jolt of pleasure surges through you, your knees nearly buckling from the intensity of it. You bite your lip, hard, refusing to let him hear how much it affects you, but the way your body trembles against his tells him everything he needs to know.

His lips curl into a wicked smile as he watches you fall apart, his thumb brushing over your clit with a gentle, almost mocking pressure. The sensation sends a sharp jolt of pleasure straight through you, your knees buckling under the weight of it.

"That's what I thought," he murmurs, his voice dripping with arrogance. "You're all bark, no bite. Always talking like you're too good for this, but look at you. Practically fucking yourself on my hand."

Your breath comes in ragged gasps now, your body shaking with the effort to hold back the moans threatening to spill out. The shame and arousal twist together in a tangled mess, leaving you dizzy and disoriented.

“I fucking hate you,” you spit again, but the words sound weak, hollow. You’re losing this battle, and you know it.

“I know, baby,” he coos, his voice soft and patronizing, fingers curling inside you just right, and fuck, you can feel yourself slipping. “You hate me so much you’re about to come on my hand.”

Your vision blurs, the world around you narrowing down to the feel of his fingers, the press of his body against yours, and the way every filthy, degrading word he speaks sends heat pooling low in your belly. You’re so close, teetering on the edge of something dark and all-consuming, and you know—God, you know—you’re not going to last much longer.

But Matthew isn’t done with you. Not yet.

His free hand slides up your body, fingers brushing over the fabric of your dress, tugging it down just enough to expose the curve of your breasts. His mouth is on you in an instant, teeth grazing your skin as he sucks a bruising mark into the delicate flesh. The sensation is enough to send you over the edge, a sharp, desperate moan ripping from your throat as your body convulses around his fingers.

“There it is,” he growls, his breath hot against your skin as he presses you harder against the wall. “There’s my good girl. You can pretend all you want, but this is who you are. Mine.”

The word echoes in your mind, sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, and before you can stop yourself, you’re nodding, breathless and trembling under the weight of his touch.

“Yes,” you gasp, barely able to form the word, your body still trembling. “Fuck, yes.”

You’re still reeling from the orgasm he ripped out of you, your legs barely able to hold you up as Matthew unbuckles his belt with that smug smirk never leaving his face. The sound of the metal clinking should send alarm bells through your mind, but all you can focus on is the throbbing ache between your legs, the way your body is still trembling in the aftershocks of what just happened. You can feel your own wetness on your thighs, sticky and undeniable, and it’s infuriating how much you want him again already.

Your breath is still ragged, and there’s a knot of panic building in your chest as you realize what’s happening next. It’s not like this hasn’t happened before—Matthew getting you worked up, wrecking you with just his fingers or his mouth, then leaving you raw and aching. But this? This is different. It’s so public, so reckless, and you’re spiraling, caught between the shame and the all-consuming need that makes you feel like you’re drowning.

His hands are rough, impatient as he slides the leather through his belt loops, and the sight of him makes something inside you twist. “What, can’t wait to get your hands on me?” He mocks.

“Shut up,” you snap, the words sharp, but your voice is ragged, breathless. You’re trying so hard to hold onto some semblance of control, but it’s slipping through your fingers faster than you can catch it. “Just—do you have a condom?”

For a second, you think maybe, just maybe, you’ve managed to cut through that smug, self-satisfied exterior. His hand stills on his belt, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looks at you, and then he snorts, a low, condescending sound that makes your stomach twist. “A condom? Really?” He leans in closer, his breath hot against your neck as he speaks, voice dripping with arrogance. “I don’t give a fuck.”

You blink, taken aback by how blunt he is. The rational part of your brain is screaming at you to push him away, to tell him to go to hell, but the rest of you—the messy, broken part that always falls for his shit—is already caving. There’s something dangerous about the way he says it, like he knows you won’t stop him. And God, isn’t that the worst part? He’s right.

“Of course, you don’t,” you hiss, trying to muster up some semblance of dignity even as your body betrays you, heat pooling low in your belly again at the thought of what’s coming. “But we both know you don’t want me to have your demon babies.”

His laugh is low, dark, and filled with derision. “Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart,” he murmurs, fingers working the zipper of his pants. “You’re still going to let me fuck you raw in this goddamn alley, though.”

Your mouth opens to protest, to tell him he’s wrong, that you’re not some pathetic, needy thing desperate for his attention, but the words die in your throat when his hand slips back under your skirt, gripping your thigh and hooking your leg around his hip–then pushing your panties to the side. You bite back a moan, your body trembling with the need for more, and the smug look on his face tells you he knows exactly how close you are to breaking again.

Before begin to think anything else, he’s lining himself up, his breath hot against your skin, and without warning, he thrusts into you, hard and fast, burying himself to the hilt. The sharp, overwhelming sensation rips through you, a gasp tearing from your throat, and for a moment, all you can feel is him—filling you, stretching you, claiming every inch of space you swore you wouldn’t give him again.

It hurts. It always does with him, at first—he’s too rough, too insistent, too much—but you’ve always liked the pain, haven’t you? That’s the sick, twisted truth of it. The burn, the way he takes without asking, the way he knows exactly how to push you to the brink—it all leaves you breathless, dizzy with need.

You dig your nails into his shoulders, trying to hold onto something, anything, but you’re unraveling, piece by piece. His hips slam into yours with a brutal, unrelenting pace, the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoing in the narrow alleyway. You can feel the dampness of your sweat mixing with the sticky night air, your skin slick against his, and it’s filthy. All of it. Filthy and wrong, but God, it feels so good.

“God, you’re such an asshole,” you spit out between breaths, voice trembling from the force of his hips slamming into yours. His pace is punishing, each thrust sending shockwaves through your body, and you can’t help the way your nails dig deeper into his skin, leaving angry red lines in their wake.

Matthew grunts in response, his breath ragged against your neck. His lips skim over your ear, and his teeth nip at your skin, making you shiver despite the oppressive heat. “Says the girl getting fucked against a wall like a desperate little slut.” He’s ruthless with his words, throwing them like knives that slice straight through you, but the sharpness only spurs you on.

You bare your teeth and bite down hard on his shoulder, not holding back, feeling the satisfaction of his skin giving way beneath your teeth. It’s a desperate, feral reaction—your body’s twisted way of regaining some control. He hisses, his muscles tensing as your bite sends a shockwave through him. You know it hurts, and you want it to. You want him to feel a fraction of the chaotic mess he’s making of you.

But it only makes him rougher.

His hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back hard enough that it stings. “Oh, you like playing rough now, huh?” His voice is a growl, low and dangerous. His grip tightens painfully on your leg as he slams into you harder, forcing you to choke on your next breath. “Biting me, clawing me like a desperate little whore—pathetic. You’re just pissed ‘cause you know how much you want this.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” you lie, gasping as another wave of pleasure courses through you, your body responding despite your brain screaming at you to stop. It’s pathetic, truly—how your body betrays you, how you’re falling apart in his hands, coming undone at the same pace that he’s pulling you tighter against him.

He laughs, breathless and cruel. “Liar.” His thumb presses against your clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles, and you’re instantly undone by the sensation, your hips bucking against his despite yourself. “You’re squeezing me so tight, it’s like you’re trying to keep me inside you.” The smugness in his voice makes you want to slap him, but you can’t even think straight, not with his body driving into yours, his fingers working you over like you’re nothing but a puppet on strings.

Your response is unintelligible, more of a broken moan than actual words. You try, desperately, to hold on to some part of yourself, to remember who you are beneath all this anger and lust, but it’s slipping, unraveling with each thrust, with each word he spits at you. Your nails drag down his back again, harder this time, drawing a hiss from his throat, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even falter.

“You can keep trying to hurt me, sweetheart,” he says, voice rough, “but it just makes you tighter for me. Keep going—I can take it.”

You bite down on your lip so hard you taste blood, trying to stop the sounds that are escaping you. The alleyway feels suffocating, the heat of the night clinging to your skin, making everything feel more intense, more raw. The smell of sweat and sex mingles in the air, and you’re hyperaware of every sound—the way your bodies slap together, the wetness between your legs, the soft, desperate gasps that you can’t control.

“You’re going to regret this,” you manage to say, your voice trembling as you try, for the millionth time, to regain some semblance of control. It’s a weak threat, and you both know it. Matthew’s grin stretches wider, his eyes gleaming in the dim light.

“I’ve never regretted a thing with you,” he growls, his pace quickening. He’s relentless now, hips snapping into you with a force that makes your head spin, his thumb working over your clit faster. "Keep biting, sweetheart," he says through a tight grin, his pace never faltering, "I’ll make you scream for it."

And God help you, you do. Every thrust has you trembling, gasping, barely able to think beyond the white-hot pleasure searing through you. It’s too much, too fast, but you can’t stop yourself—you’re pushing against him, meeting every punishing stroke like you’re trying to match him in this sick, twisted game of dominance.

Your breath hitches, your body arching against his as that familiar, unbearable pressure starts to build low in your belly. You can feel it—feel yourself slipping, unraveling, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. His name slips from your lips, ragged and broken, and you want to hate yourself for how desperate you sound.

"Already?" he taunts, his voice low and dripping with condescension. "Didn’t take long this time, did it? Always so damn easy for me."

"Fuck you," you manage to gasp out, but it’s weak, barely above a whisper, because he’s right. You’re already falling apart around him, your body betraying you in the worst possible way.

"Too late for that," he growls, thrusting into you harder, and the sharp slap of his hips against yours sends a fresh wave of heat crashing through you. "You’re already fucked, baby."

And that’s when it happens. That tight, coiling knot inside you snaps, and you fall—hard. Your whole body clenches, thighs shaking as a violent orgasm tears through you, your head tipping back against the brick wall as a choked, guttural moan rips from your throat. You’re shaking, barely able to breathe, and he doesn’t stop. Not even for a second.

Matthew’s grip tightens on your hips, bruising, and he’s still moving, driving into you with a brutal intensity that makes your whole body ache. "God, you’re such a fucking mess," he mutters, his voice rough and breathless, and you can hear the strain in his tone, the way his own release is close, just out of reach.

Your fingers scramble against his back, your nails raking down the muscles there in a desperate attempt to hold on to something solid as your mind spirals. You can feel the raw scratches your nails leave behind, but it’s not enough—it’s never enough to satisfy the gnawing need to make him feel this too. You can feel him, hard and throbbing inside you, and somewhere in the haze of it all, you hear him grunt, low and rough. “Where do you want it, huh?” His voice is breathless, but there’s still that edge of arrogance in it. “Tell me. Where should I come?”

You should tell him to pull out. You should tell him you’re not that stupid, that you know better. But the words that come out of your mouth aren’t the ones you intended.

“Inside,” you gasp, before you can stop yourself. “I don’t care. Just—fuck, Matt, do it. Please.”

His eyes darken at your words, and you swear you feel him twitch inside you, his grip on your hips tightening as he slams into you one more time, burying himself deep. With a rough, guttural groan, he lets go, his body tensing as he spills inside you, the warmth flooding your core in a way that makes your already oversensitive body shudder.

For a moment, neither of you move, both of you breathing hard, the sticky heat of the night settling back in around you. You’re still pressed against the wall, your legs trembling, his body heavy against yours, and for a second, you wonder if maybe—just maybe—he’ll say something that makes this less horrible. Maybe he’ll apologize or admit that this is as fucked up for him as it is for you.

"Need a ride home?" he asks, his tone almost casual, like he’s offering you a lift after a night out with friends and not after he just fucked you against a wall without even a second thought.

You blink at him, still too stunned to answer right away. "Are you serious?" you snap, your voice laced with disbelief. "After everything, that’s what you say?"

He shrugs, unbothered by your tone. "What? You wanna walk?" His eyes flick over you, taking in the disheveled state of your dress, your mussed hair, and the bruises already forming on your hips. "Thought you might want to clean up a little before you try to get into an Uber looking like that."

The nerve of him, acting like this was nothing, like he didn’t just wreck you in every possible way. "You’re such a piece of shit," you hiss, shoving him hard in the chest, though it feels more like an afterthought than anything else. You’re drained, physically and emotionally, but of course, Matthew doesn’t care.

He just laughs, low and dark, brushing off the shove like it’s nothing. "Yeah, well, you still let me fuck you, so what does that make you?"

You hate him. You hate him so much you can barely breathe through the anger, but all you can do is be dragged by him out of the alley, with a promise of nothing.

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mastermindmiko · 1 month

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hi,

i’m currently in my bill weasley phase aha

i was wondering if i could have gut wrenching angst and maybe fluff i need something to just cause pain aha

it’s okay if not :)

Hey, I know this is very long overdue but it's finally here! You asked for angst, and angst you shall receive. I hope I did it justice. More (Bill Weasley Fanfiction)

content warnings: none I believe, but lmk, kissing maybe? not edited Pairing: Bill Weasley + fem!reader word count: 9201 (sorta got carried away) Summary: You and Bill were always friends, until there was something more.

a/n: Trying my best to finish all the requests I've got and simply just posting more. Also, I tried this little thing were I did a sort of rhyming (don't want to call it poetry cause that's too big a compliment) to start off the ff, you can sort of see it like a summary maybe too.

It all starts out the same way, with a girl and a boy that meet when they were small then grow until they’re tall. They grasp each other's hands, holding their stance as their friendship solidifies until there’s a shift, a switch, a fully expected change that takes things from where they were to where they are now.

There were only ever a few things that I cared about; My family, my friends, my future and my Bill. He never fit into neither the first nor the second categories as it was simply just different with him. Living only a few kilometres away from the Weasleys ensured that I spent most of my time with him, and as we both went to Hogwarts it only made me want to sew him to my side even more.

“Hey, why do the Weasleys call you Honey?”

“Ummm, it involves an incident where I ended up being a large tub of honey.” I explain as vaguely as I can, still trying to erase the embarrassing story out of my head. Tonks looks at me weirdly before waving her hand, “I don’t even want to know.”

I spent ten years of my life being Bill’s friend, best friend even, watching as his family got bigger and so did he. He developed his interests and I developed mine when all I thought of him was a friend, and none of that changed until-

“Do you think Bill’s hot?”

Nymphadora- Tonks asked me one day. I look up from my lunch and ask her, “What?”

“You know Bill- you’re friend, tall, ginger-”

“I know who Bill is…” I trail off, and I think of what she just asked, now that we were fifteen (practically adults), everyone started falling for people left and right, while I just focused on Quidditch and OWLs. Bill was doing the same as me, we would study together, practise together, there just wasn’t enough time building a future and also doing normal typical teenager stuff.

“You gotta admit, he’s gotten mighty fit over the summer.” Tonks said, and I looked at the girl who’s two years younger than me disapprovingly. Despite being in different years and houses, we shared the same lunch period. I scold, “Aren’t you a bit too young to be thinking of things like that?”

“I just call it like I see it.” She replies, and then eyes me up and down with a grin on her face. I blush and push her shoulder. She laughs and I smile a bit myself. There’s a beat then she asks again, “You didn’t answer my question…do you think that Bill’s hot?”

I look around trying to recall in my memory the most accurate picture of Bill I could conjure up. He’s definitely gotten taller. I remember how I used to be able to ruffle his hair without having to step on my tiptoes- and his hair’s gotten longer, much to Molly’s disapproval. He’s gotten a bit more tan from spending all that time out in the sun, making his freckles more apparent.

All that time in the sun playing quidditch also changed his physique a bit. His shoulders are broader, his biceps and thighs thicker. Hands are larger and stronger. I recall the last game of the summer, only a few weeks ago, where every member of the Weasley family was playing, Ginny being the referee as she was still very small. I was the beater, as always. Bill was the chaser, and we were on opposite teams. Halfway through the game, two hours in, we were still playing and Bill decided to throw some water over his head, cooling him off. The water soaking his hair, arms and shirt, making it cling to his body-

“You totally think he is!” Tonks exclaims, and brings me out of my daydream. I feel my face flare up and I stutter as I defend myself, “It’s not that, it’s just yes, he’s fit but he’s my friend, so he’s just that, he’s just fit.”

Tonks is still giving me that cheeky grin when I decide that that’s enough of that interaction, so I stand up, deciding to just stay in class for the next fifteen minutes till class starts. I say, “Well, I gotta go. Bye Tonks.”

She shakes her head, and waves while I headout of the Great Hall. I pull out a piece of paper from my bag as I look at my schedule, I turn around to move the other way, when I see Potions scrawled up on the parchment. I shiver as I enter the dungeons and hope that Professor Snape doesn’t mind me waiting till class begins, I could prep the cauldron while I wait.

I walk through the dark silent hallways, hearing the echoes of each step I take. A large hand encompasses my shoulder, and I turn around quickly lifting my wand from my waist band. I point my wand to the face of my attacker and I meet with the grinning face of Bill Weasley. I relax as Bill takes the wand out of my hand and places it inside my belt loop, a normal occurrence, if it weren’t for the fact that his face is close to mine and I notice just how sharp and angular it is.

“Tonks told me you were heading to class, what are you doing going to potions this early? Snape barely tolerates Gryffindor’s when he has to.” Bill says, and push his hand off my shoulder, and he chuckles. I say, “Snape actually likes me, and don’t act like that when you're practically his favourite.”

“It’s only cause I’m the best.” He grin, cockily, and he taps his head, pointing towards his brain. I push his shoulder playfully and reply, “Second best.”

***

The Gryffindor common room fills with the sounds of both Muggle and wizard music. The smell of alcohol and sweat from the mixing bodies encases the area. A muggle born brought a machine that flickers light in different hues of different colours, having the lights bounce off the walls, as people dance in the centre of the room, and the chatter fills.

I’m standing against some wall, holding a cup of butterbeer that was gathered from an illegal trip to Hogsmeade only a few hours ago after the win for the house. I never did drink much alcohol and especially not during Quidditch season. This was the first year I’ve been able to participate in the parties that Gryffindor house threw, and it was exciting, but much more boring than I expected.

I’m watching the room, looking around, seeing a young Percy trying to make his way up to the boy’s dormitories as swiftly as he could while carrying two books that are twice the size of his head. Some drunk seventh years, push him, unintentionally, Percy glares at them nonetheless. I move towards him, pushing away the couples that might as well just get a room. I fling my arm around Percy’s shoulder, nod my head towards the stairs. I carry one of the books from him and we walk towards the dormitories.

He rushes up the stairs as fast as he can as soon as he’s out of the sea of bodies. I call out his name, and despite the loud music, he turns to me, guiltily. I say, “We’ve told you a million times that you can’t stay out this loud, especially after curfew, even if it is to study.”

“I know, I know…you won’t tell Bill?” Percy asks, lips pursed and ashamed. I sigh and give him the other book back and reply, “Not if you don’t do it again.”

He grins from ear to ear, large glasses slipping off his nose. He laughs, “Thank you, Honey!” He wastes no second before running up the stairs once again, and I can just barely hear the sounds of the footsteps fade away before I walk away.

I drink the last bit of the butterbeer in my cup. I go to the opposite side of the room, grimacing as people shove me around. I stand by the drinks table and start to look around for the butterbeer bowl, when I notice a mop of red hair, reaching for the firewhiskey. I shake my head and sneak up behind the unsuspecting Weasley. I reach forward and grab a handful of his hair, and pull him back.

“Ow! Ow! Ow!” Charlie chants, while I pull him by his hair. His hands lift up and try to loosen the grip that my fingers had on his hair. I threaten, “Put the cup down.”

He frowns but (reluctantly) puts it down. I pull him by his hair once again and push him towards, once again the stairs of the dormitories. The place is quieter there, and I can scold him properly. We reach near the top of the first year boy’s dormitories, and I leave his hair. He rubs his head, and looks at me with a frown.

“What in Merlin’s name did you think you were doing?” I say, while placing a soft (sort of) slap on the back of his head. He swats my hand away after, and continues to rub his head. He pouts, “Stop ruining my best feature.”

“No, your best feature is your Quidditch skills, not your stupid hair that needs to be cut.” I scold, and look at him, disappointed. I continue, “What did you think you were during? Trying to drink Firewhiskey of all things!”

A drunk seventh year passes us and shouts, “Yeah little Weesilie, you should try something lighter for your first time.”

“Bugger off!” I shout at him, and I turn back to Charlie. I rant, “There’s a reason why people below fifth year aren’t allowed to be at parties and being at parties includes alcohol, so until a few more years, you’re not allowed to have any-”

“A few more years! I’m fourteen as soon as I hit that big 15 like you and Bill, I’m gonna have some.” Charlie says, and he complains, “All my friends have some, and so do you and Bill, why can’t I? It’s just one year.”

“A year is a long time, Charlie, and so what if all your friends are doing bad things, doesn’t mean you should to, besides Bill and I don’t even like to drink. Even when you turn 15, you’re not going to be able to drink a lot because you’re a seeker, Charlie!” I reply, and he huffs and folds his arms together.

“That still doesn’t mean that I won’t try it.” Charlie pouts, and he looks down at the floor. I start to feel a little bad for being too hard on him, so I pull him in for a hug, surprised as to how he’s my height now. I say, “If you want to, you could, but until then, it’s off limits.”

I smile at him, and ruffle his hair a bit. I pull my hand back then put it back on his hair again, and play with a few locks. His face flushes, and he grins at me when I say, impressed, “You weren’t lying, you definitely have the best hair.”

“You must be lying because you’ve seen my hair.” Bill interrupts and he walks out of the first year boy’s dorms. Charlie looks at me with a panicked look, and I contemplate if I should tell Bill about what just transpired. I play, “No, I have, Charlie’s hair is just better.”

Charlie pokes his tongue out at Bill, and I grin, and Bill slaps the back of Charlie’s head. Charlie grimaces and mumbles, “You two really are best friends…”

“Go on, back to your dorm, now.” I say, and he rushes up the stairs. Bill sits down on the stairs and he pulls me down by his hand. I notice how large his hand is compared to mine. I sit down beside him, on the other side of the steps and he sits opposite to me, backs against the walls of the spiralling staircase. Bill asks, “What was he doing down there?”

“Got lost, I guess…” I trail off, deciding that Charlie’s learnt his lesson. Bill looks back at the first year dorms, and he explains, “One of Percy’s friends, Oliver, found me and said that he couldn’t find Percy, he was afraid that Percy got trampled or squished by the people at the party-”

We both laugh, and he continues, “Then a few minutes later, Percy walks in, alright and everything…so, thank you.”

“Hey, I had nothing to do with it, Percy’s very smart.” I say, keeping Percy’s secret. Bill fiddles with the carpeted floor of the stairs and he replies, “I know you he is, but I also know that you helped, he was out at the library again, just like you helped Charlie.”

I don’t say anything and so, Bill smiles at me, and he says, “You don’t have to take care of them, it’s my responsibility, I can do it myself.”

“I know you can, but they’re sort of like my little brothers too, so I want to.” I reply, and we sit in the silence for a bit. It was a completely normal moment, Bill and I never felt the need to fill in the silence, but for some reason, he asked, “Does that mean that you think I’m your brother too?”

The question takes me off guard, and my heart lurches to my throat. My eyes flicker between his, searching for the right answer. Maybe for the first time ever, I find Bill hard to read. I choose to give him the truth, so I think of what that is. I couldn’t classify Bill as a sort of family, but I also don’t know where I would put Bill. I opt for the simple answer , not wanting to think about more. I didn’t even know if there was more. I replied, “No…”

He shuffles a bit closer and the air is charged between us. I pull my knees together and pull them to my chest, to make way for him to come closer. I brush an annoying lock out of my eyes, not wanting to spend a second not looking at him. He says, abruptly, "You're very handsome…”

He notices what he’s said and he flushes, I let out a small laugh and notice the way his face heats up, and how mine is also red. The contrast between his brownish red freckles and his skin and the way his nose seems to be at a perfect angle, Bill honestly was just so- “You’re pretty too”

He smiles at my comment, and he looks at my eyes, and I wonder what he’s thinking. Why can’t I understand what he’s doing? When have I ever not understood what he’s doing? Ever since Tonks made me realise how drop-dead gorgeous Bill is, I-

“If I’m not your brother, what am I then?” He asks, and he searches my eyes for the answer that I don’t even know myself. He isn’t my friend, it feels wrong to say it, and I don’t know what other thing Bill could be for me, but we’ve been friends for a decade now. I answer, “I don’t know.”

“Friend?”

“I don’t know.” I repeat, and I look down at the floor, not being able to stand his piercing blue eyes trained on me anymore. His hand grazes my cheek, pushing the hair behind my ear, the contact makes me shoot up to look at his eyes. It feels different, so much more different than any other look we’ve shared before. He adds, “I don’t know either…”

His hand cups my cheek, and it feels so much more, but what even is more between Bill and I? He brushes his thumb over my cheekbones, and he leans in. My legs part slightly, so he can shift closer. I didn’t even realise what I’d done till he was only a few centimetres away from my face. He looks at me, searching, and then down to my lips.

My breath hitches, and I can see his chest heave. My lips part under his gaze, and he leans closer. Maybe this is what more means for us? I don’t know what could happen after but I know this-I lift my hand up to encase his wrist. His eyes flicker back to mine, and I say, “You’re never going to be the same to me after this.”

“You haven’t been the same to me in a while.” His last words before he gives me one last look before he kisses me.

***

The summer passed by in a blur where it’s nothing but hazy memories of Bill. It’s not a surprise that I spend most of my summer at the Weasleys with my parents working all around the world. The surprise is the way Bill grasps my hand under the table, and the whispers between us are now sweet not taunts and games.

He would send me cheeky smiles and flirty grins across the room. He would wake me up in the middle of the night and take me from Ginny’s room so we could go watch the stars outside the Burrow, laying on the grass, just like now…

“I can’t believe that we’re about to go back to Hogwarts in two days.” Bill says, as he wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me impossibly close to him. Contact has never been unknown between us, but this was entirely new. I run my hands through his long hair, and I sigh, “Yeah, two more years and we’re out of Hogwarts.”

“Everything will change…” I trail off, scared of what’s to come, when we’re getting real jobs and we’re not sheltered anymore, out to fend for ourselves. Bill looks at me and I can see the stars shine from his eyes, and it’s a mesmerising sight. Bill pecks my lips before saying, “Not us, never us.”

I smile as he nuzzles his face into my neck, and I wrap my arms around his back. I hope he’s right, I really do hope he is. I don’t know what I could do without Bill. I wonder if his family knows about us, if they feel what’s changed. The only one who does know is poor Percy when he wandered off in the library only to find us snogging in between the bookshelves.

The other person who knows about us is Charlie but that’s because the boy was smart when it comes to things like these. He noticed the blush on my cheeks first then Bill’s smiles and then one day he dropped his spoon under the table during dinner and he saw our legs intertwined. He didn’t mention it at first until the next day, when he did the same thing on purpose, and he noticed Bill holding my hand.

He spent the entirety of that week trying to find us doing something. When we were together, he would suddenly burst through the door screaming, ‘AHA!’, and then he’d find us playing cards on the floor. We realised what he was doing early on, but we let him have his fun, until one day, he gave up and burst through the door once again, and said, “Why won’t you guys tell me that you’re dating?”

I answered first, “Because we aren’t…”

Bill nodded along, but Charlie looked beyond confused. He questioned us; Do you hold hands? Spend time together? Act all cute and annoying? Kiss each other? Bill replied yes to all of the questions and then Charlie asked us why we weren’t dating already, and I couldn’t help but wonder the same thing as well.

I run my hands through his hair and I ask, tentatively, “Bill…”

He hums, and I try to find the courage to ask before it’s all gone and forgotten because I need to know. I try to ask the most dreaded question in the world, in a confident matter like it didn’t matter at all to me what his answer might be, instead I stutter, “I-What are we?”

He pauses, tenses, a few seconds pass then he lifts his head out of the crook of my neck and he hesitates, “I don’t know.”

A beat passes, and I press, “I mean, when we go back-to Hogwarts, and some girl asks you out, what will you say?”

He reaches the hand that was wrapped around my waist and rubs the back of his neck. He replies, “I don’t know.”

“What if a guy asks me out?” I ask, scanning for answers in his eyes, hoping to elicit a reaction that he would care if he were to share me with someone else, that he’s mine and I am his. He shrugs his shoulders and says, “You’ll just say what you want to say.”

He puts back his arm around my waist and he puts his face back into the crook of my shoulder. I sigh, unsatisfied with the answer. I place my hands back into his hair and play with the long ginger strands. His breath tickles my neck and he starts planting kisses on my shoulder. He trails them up to my neck and I sigh, contently. He begins to nibble and suckle the skin while I begin to tug on his hair.

He lowers his hand that’s on my waist, bit by bit till he reaches my butt. He squeezes firmly causing me to gasp and press my hips forward towards him. I feel it, I feel him and Merlin, he’s- His hand trails lower to my thighs and it encourages me to sling my leg around his hip. His mouth moves up to my jaw, and then to my mouth. His tongue slips inside my mouth and he pushes his hips against mine. He groans and I pull away, I ask, “Here?”

“What if your parents wake up, or someone notices? We can not traumatise someone else like we did with Percy and Charlie-” Bill silences me by pressing his lips against mine and that’s when I feel him start to harden underneath me. I moan as I wrap my legs more firmly around him as I press our hips tightly together. Bill pulls back this time, and he looks over at me, my hair sprawled everywhere and I feel the heat in my face. I press my hands to my cheeks feeling the difference in temperature. I ask, “Is my face red? It feels like it is.”

Bill smiles and pulls my hands down and kisses me. He replies, “No, it’s perfect.”

***

Bill Weasley is my first everything, kiss, first time, first whatever this thing was, and first heartbreak even if we technically didn’t stop. I was alright with it, I was because it felt like he was just as into me as I was into him. Just because we didn’t label the thing that we had doesn’t mean that we have to. It’s Bill, and I trust him.

It was all going alright, more than alright, it was great, there wasn’t a moment that I didn’t spend with him, and I was so sure that I was falling for him, if I hadn’t already. I was on my way to Ancient Runes when I heard Bill’s voice, I perked up, until I heard another female voice with him. I slow down and I overhear the conversation.

“Do you?” The female voice asks.

“No, I uh, I don’t.” Bill

“So, you don’t have a girlfriend?” I can hear the grin in her voice

“Nope, I’m single.”

I feel my eyes well up and I take a few deep breaths willing them away before deciding that I’m going to be taking a different route, and I end up late to class. The thing that I was worried about happened, and ugh, what am I going to do with myself if he does end up getting a girlfriend and it’s not me?

I avoided Bill like the plague for a week, the only Weasleys I’m speaking to were Charlie and Percy, but even then it hurt, they looked so much like him. I cried more than I’m proud of, and even when Bill did try to talk to me, I would simply just walk away.

It’s been exactly a week since I overheard Bill and I’m on my way to ancient runes once more. Someone calls my name, and Edgar Bones walks over to me. I wait for him to catch up and he smiles at me with a boyish grin. Bones asks, “You need a walk to class?”

“Umm, I’m alright.” I reply, and walk on, but Bones follows. He walks along beside me and says, “Well, I’d like to give you one if you don’t mind.”

I don’t reply and simply make my way to class, hoping that Bill wouldn’t get the wrong idea seeing me and Bones- wait, why should I care about what Bill thinks? He’s not my boyfriend as he’s made it very clear to some girl. I take Bill out of my mind and walk on. Bones walks beside me, an appropriate distance away. Halfway through the walk he looks towards me and asks, “Would you like me to carry your books?”

“No, I’m alright.” I reply and adjust my bag over my shoulder and the books that are on my arm. I wonder what he might be doing walking me to class. Over the past six years, we’ve only had a few conversations all involving school or Quidditch. Nonetheless, he reaches over and grabs the books out of my arm, and I mumble a thank you at the kind gesture.

We reach the door of the class, and I stand there. I look around while noticing Bones shuffling on his feet. I decide to be blunt and ask, “Bones, we’ve talked about four times since we’ve known each other, why are you walking me to class and holding my books?”

“I-uh, I know this is out of the blue for you, but I-” He cuts himself off and looks around nervously. His gaze falls on something behind me and I look around to see McLaggen giving Bones two thumbs up, I look back at Bones confused and he clears his throat. He asks, “Would you like to go out with me?”

It’s my turn to look around nervous, and shuffle awkwardly on my feet. I reply, “It’s just that we don’t know each other that well.”

“I was hoping we’d get to do that over some butterbeer.” He says, and I notice the red tint on his cheeks. The silence is tense. I think it over; Bones is quite fit, and he’s one of the smartest people in Hufflepuff, I’ve heard he’s actually quite kind also. Besides, not like anyone is holding me back anymore. I say, “Sure then.”

He beams and he raises his hand up in a thumbs up, no doubt to show McLaggen, it’s sort of cute, if you think about it. He plans, “How about tomorrow? I’ll pick you up at eleven and we’ll head over to the three broomsticks?”

“That sounds good.” I say, and he grins. He hands me my books back then says quickly, “Well, I’ve got class in two minutes, so I have to run. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

He breaks off into a run, McLaggen following behind him, and I head inside class. I sit in the middle beside the wall where I usually sit, and think about this date. I don’t like Bones, but most people don’t have feelings for the person that they’re going on a first date with. After the date is when the feelings pop up. It’s actually nice to be asked out, and not to be kissed once everyday when no one’s watching.

I was getting excited about the prospect, thinking about what to wear, how to style my hair, when Bill walks in. He looks at me with a deep frown and heads off to sit beside someone else. I expected him to try to talk to me like he has in all of our classes, but he didn’t. He stares out the window for the entirety of class, which is unlike him, especially during the class that made him realise that he wanted to be a cursebreaker.

I take a few notes, more than I usually do without noticing just in case Bill needed some after class. He would do the same when I would doze off during class or when I was sick. The bell rings and I put my books in my bag and sling it over my shoulder, holding a few on my arm. I barely walk out of class when someone pulls on my bag, pulling me back as well. I say, “Hey!”

“Is it true?” Bill asks, just as I register that it’s him and not someone that I don’t know. His cheeks are flushed, but in the way that makes him seem agitated. I look at him confused and I ask, “What?”

“You’re going out on a date with Bones? Is it true?” He asks, and I find myself pursing my lips and avoiding to answer. He runs a hand through his hair frustrated, and then continues, “Cause maybe, you didn’t know it was a date? Did you know?”

“Can we not do this here?” I ask, when I see people stopping walking around and looking at me and Bill instead. A few whispers follow, and Bill grabs my hand to lead me somewhere more crowded. We stand in front of a large window with the sunlight beaming through and it’s near a hidden alcove where no one comes often. The hallway is empty and Bill doesn’t say anything before he sighs and asks, “Are you really?”

“Yes.” I reply, and I can see his shoulders fall. He takes a few steps closer to me and asks me, “Did you know it was a date?”

“Yes, I did, I’m not an idiot.” I snap, and his shoulders tense over and his frown deepens. His stance becomes defensive and he folds his arms over his chest. He says, “Bones is a dick, he just uses girls for sex, and he’s a big jerk.”

“No, he’s not-”

“He’s mean to his family and he treats his friends badly-”

“No! He doesn’t, Bill.” I shout, “Stop making him try to seem like a jerk just so I won’t go out with him.”

He bites his lip and looks away. His chest is heaving and his jaw clenches. I take a step back and I whisper, “You don’t have a say on who I go out with, you’re not my boyfriend.”

Bill eyes me for a moment, and I try to stand my ground. He sighs, before turning around and leaving in a huff. I can hear his angry footsteps even after he’s out of my line of sight.

***

The entire time when I’m getting ready to go out on a date, I think of Bill. Bill always said he liked my hair up, so I’m keeping it down. He liked me in red, so I’m wearing blue, anything to keep him out of my head. It’s my first ever date with a guy who might actually want to be my boyfriend instead of Bill who would kiss me and leave.

10.55

I walk downstairs and decide to wait the last few minutes outside the common room while I wait for Bones. I’m just about at the end of the stairs when Charlie rushes over to me. “Hi, Honey!”

“Oh, Hi Charlie.” I wave to him while he walks over to me. He smiles and he walks over to me, way too slowly. He reaches me and asks, “What are you doing dressed up so nice?”

“Nothing much, Charlie.” I reply, not wanting to tell the boy that things with Bill and I are what they are. He looks me up and down, and narrows his eyes at me. He asks, “Are you going out on a date?”

10.57

“I uh- yeah.” I say, reluctantly. Charlies purses his lips, thinking. He looks at me, confused. He thinks out loud, “That’s weird, Bill told me that he wasn’t going to Hogsmeade today.”

“I’m not going with Bill.” I say, and Charlie’s face falls and he’s looking at me with those heartbroken puppy eyes. My heart aches, and I can’t stand it much longer. I rush, “I’ll talk to you later, Charlie.”

10.58

I look up from my watch as I make it to the door of the common room when a small little redhead steps between me and the door. Percy grins up at me, and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He holds a book out to me and he asks, “Hey, honey! Could you help me with this potions chapter?”

“Of course, Percy just when I head back, it’s hogsmeade weekend.” I explain and his smile falls. I wonder why I am breaking all of the young Weasley’s hearts today. Percy asks, “Where are you going at Hogsmeade?”

“I’m not sure you’d know what I’m talking about Percy, you’ve never been there before.” I reply and look back at my watch.

10.59

“I still wanna know.” Percy insists, and I reply, “I’m going to this place called ‘the three broomsticks’ where I’m going to have some drinks and stuff like butterbeer.”

Percy nods his head, looking intrigued. He strokes his chin like an old man deep in thought. He says, “Tell me more about it.”

“I would love to, Percy and I will, but I have to get going now.” I say, and he frowns, I ruffle his hair and try to soften the blow, “But how about, when I get back, after lunch maybe, we can go to the library and I’ll tell you all about it and I’ll help you with potions.”

He nodded and then quickly ran back up the stairs…weird. I finally open the door to the common room and I see Bones standing a few feet away from the door. He waves to people in our year as he greets them.

11.00

I look at my watch and I smile at his punctuality. He grins when he sees me and I offer a polite smile back. I walked over to him and he met me halfway. He tells me that I look pretty and I tell him the same. He loops our arms together and we walk through the castles to where the carriages are being pulled towards Hogsmeade. We talked a little most of the time but a lot at other times. We sat watching the snowfall on the ground from the window. He tells me his favourite season is spring, I tell him mine is autumn.

He told me how this is his first date and I told him the same. I can tell that he’s itching to ask Bill and I’m dying for him not to. We drink butterbeer and he offers to pay. We talk about our plans and how he wants to be a healer. I tell him that I’m not sure. He said that it’s okay. I smile at him as he tells me that he loves Potions and he does the same when I talk about Arithmancy.

When we’re in the carriages heading back when there’s about an hour left till lunch, he tells me he’s had a great time and I tell him the same. He pulls his jacket around my shivering arms, and then leans forward to kiss me. I reciprocate and then he tells me that he wants to hold on to the date a little bit more.

We hop off the carriage and it takes us the better part of an hour to walk back to the castle ourselves. We talk for most of the time, the other half just listening to the sound of our footsteps on the snow. He trips over a branch on the ground and falls face first into the snow. His face leaves an imprint on the snow and I bend over laughing. He throws a snowball at my face, and that’s when the snow fight begins.

We fall on the ground when he asks if I like Bill, and dreadidly I say yes. He assures me and tells me that he’s still happy to have known me better. We decide that if he’s ever in need of an Arithmancy tutor that he can come to me, and his door is always open when I need help with potions.

The date ended and it was a good first date even if it didn’t end with a new romantic prospect. Lunch is almost over, so I grab a few snacks from the Great Hall before heading over to my dorm to change before meeting up with Percy in the library. Charlie stops me as soon as I enter the common room.

“I need your help!” Charlie exclaims and I get worried very quickly. He drags me by my hand up the staircase to the boy’s dormitories and I hope that the staircases don’t turn into a slide beneath us. He leads me up and up and up the stairs till we reach the fifth year boy’s dorms. Bill’s dorms. On our way there, he asks, “You said Bill doesn’t like alcohol.”

“He doesn’t.” I reply and Charlie tuts before he opens the door to Bill’s dorm. I smell the alcohol before I see Bill. He’s lying on the floor, with his hand wrapped around a bottle of Firewhiskey. I hear some tiny sobs before walking over to him, falling to my knees in worry. I wave over to Charlie, motioning for him to leave while I take care of Bill.

Bill beams when he sees me. His hand reaches over to cup my face, and he stutters, “You’re very very pretty, honey.”

I press a tiny kiss to his forehead to soothe him, and he closes his eyes in momentary bliss and I can see the tears streaks running from under his eyes and over his cheeks. I lean to grasp the bottle of Firewhiskey from his hand, but he tightens his grip over it. He protests, “No!”

“Come on, Bill. You don’t even like this thing.” I insist and pry the bottle out of his fingers. I put it away on one of his other roommates' nightstands. Bill frowns, “I know, I know, I just need it today, just today…”

He lets out a sob, and I push him up so he can sit upright and rub circles on his back. He leans his head on my shoulder and he holds my hand. He sighs softly and I ask, “Why do you need it today, Bill?”

“Cause you’re o-on a date.” Bill says, and my heart pounds under my chest. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Bill like this. He rambles, “You went out with someone else, you laughed and you went to the three broomstick, and he kissed you-”

“Wait, you followed me?” I ask, anger bubbling. Bill notices and he quickly lifts his head from my shoulder and looks at me, eyes wide. I still push a strand of his long hair over his eyes. He grasps my head from his face and he chokes out another sob, “I couldn’t help it, I love you!”

I gasp, and Bill sobs covering his face with his hands. I look away, feeling my eyes water, why couldn’t he feel those emotions when sober? I blink away the tears and I pull him to my chest, and he wraps his arms around me, hugging me tight that I might fear for my ribs. I pet his head and whisper, “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

“You can’t like him, I love you!” Bill repeats and I can’t help but start to let a few tears slip. Bill shouldn’t be spilling anymore thoughts when he’s like this, especially if they might not be true. I say, “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Only if you stay.” Bill says, and I nod my head. I help him up and he falls. He starts tripping over his feet, as I lead him to his bed, the one with the photo of his face on the nightstand beside it. I cover him with a blanket and I move away from him. He grabs a hold of my wrist. I reassure him, “I’m only going to get the trash in, just in case you decide to throw up.”

He nods, and then lets go of my wrist slowly. I grab the trash bin and a glass of water, and set them both beside him. He grabs me again, and he pulls me on top of him. He smiles when he sees my face. He cups my face and rubs his thumb across my cheekbones. It felt nice, like it wasn’t complicated at all. It felt the same way it did during the summer, and I covered his hand with my own. His smile dropped and he asked, “Why did you have to go away?”

“What are you talking about, Bill?”

“You haven’t talked to me in a while.” Bill says, and I clear my throat before correcting him, “A week isn’t a while.”

“A few minutes not talking to you is agony enough.” Bill says, and I sigh. He looks up at me with those bright blue eyes, and his other hand goes to my back, lifting up a slight part of my shirt before settling down on my warm, bare skin. I answer, “You told a girl that you didn’t have a girlfriend.”

He frowns and purses his lips, thoughts travelling throw them, slower than they would if he were sober. The pieces joining together before his lips part in astonishment. He asks, “You want to be my girlfriend?”

It takes me a moment. I didn’t know at first, but the feeling of it, of having him call me his, kissing him whenever I can. I still don’t think that would be enough, I want more, so much more than just that. I reply, “I want to be more than that with you Bill.”

“How?”

“I don’t know.”

***

“We’re just so proud of Bill for taking this step forward.” Molly gushes about Bill to me. We’re all sitting at the dinner table just a month into the summer before our seventh and final year. The Gred and Forge, Ginny and Ron are on one side of the table. Arthur sits at the head at the table Charlie opposite to him while Molly sits next to Bill who sits next to me.

None of the kids care about the conversation, just eating little chicken nuggets and some fries with chocolate milkshakes, playing with each other. As Fred and George tell eachother jokes, while Ron munches on his food. Ginny just plays with her hair trying to braid tiny strands of it without looking.

Charlie is just rolling her eyes at how much Molly is gushing about Bill, while Bill flushes trying to get her to stop, embarrassed. Arthur is making sure that Fred and George don’t set the table on fire, due to previous experiences. Molly says one thing that peaks my interest, “I mean taking an internship that could lead to a job in Egypt, obviously he’ll visit a lot-”

“What internship?” I cut Molly off asking, tense, and the table went silent. I look at Bill questioningly. Bill swallows his last bit of food before turning to look at me. Molly exclaims, “Oh, I’ve said something wrong, Haven’t I? I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s alright, Molly.” I reassure her from behind Bill, while he pets his mother’s arm. Bill clears his throat and looks at me explaining, “I didn’t take it, I still have to get accepted.”

“In Egypt?” I ask, frowning at the far off place, in an entirely different continent. He says softly, “Yeah.”

“It’s a curse breaking internship, and who knows maybe I’ll be working there around tombs and mummies and-” Bill explains, and I question, “And you’re just going?”

“If I get accepted-”

“And you’re gonna leave.” I point out, and he looks around awkwardly as Ginny starts asking Arthur where Bill is going and why he’s leaving. Molly and Aurthur usher everyone out of the dinning area just leaving Bill and I there. We sit in silence, and I don’t know where to even start. Don’t go, stay. How could you leave? I start, “Were you going to tell me about this?”

“I didn’t want to tell you before I got it, would’ve been a lot of worry for nothing.” Bill says, and I turn around my chair to face him. He does the same. Our knees touching and legs intertwined. I ask, “And if you get it?”

I wait for his answer as he looks down at the ground and I put my hand out grabbing his hand in mine. I play with his hand with both of mine and I place it on my lap. HE stays silent and I ask, “Would you go?”

“I-I don’t know, probably.” Bill says, and I feel pieces of my heart start to crack off. My hold on his hand tightens and I question, “What about your family? I’m sure Molly needs a helping hand around here. Charlie and Percy need their older brother, Who’s gonna keep Fred and George in line? Ron looks up to you, and Ginny loves you so much-”

Bill cuts me off with a strong kiss on my lips while his hand encases my face. It’s the first one in a while and I relish in it. When Bill woke up after my date, he couldn’t remember anything but through a heated discussion we decided to take a few steps back. He was just my friend again. I hold his face in between my hands, and I whisper softly, “I need you to stay.”

Bill places some more kisses onto my face and he hugs me tightly. I pull him closer, and think of how he could go. Go and be so far away. I ask from the crook of his neck, “How long would this internship be?”

“A year.”

“That’s not a long time…” I convince myself and him. He grabs my waist tighter and he says, “Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure that I won’t get it.”

But he did.

***

After a year of not seeing Bill, my first year working as the new professor of Arithmancy at Hogwarts, I might as well be jumping off the walls, bursting from excitement just to see him again. We had spent our seventh year in agony waiting to see if he got the internship or not, and when he did, I spent the last of the year, holding onto him until he had to leave.

He didn’t kiss me once that year, except when we were on the train for the last time, heading back to platform 9 ¾ . We stayed as we were, except I stayed true to my word. I couldn’t see him as simply my friend anymore. Whenever he hugged me I wanted to savour that feeling forever. When he talked I wished I could listen to him talk forever and have those lips on mine. When he held Ginny and played with her hair, braiding it, I couldn’t help but picture a future like this, with him.

When he came back, flew in through the Floo network from the ministry, I wasted no second in running towards him and wrapping my arms around his neck. The sounds of his siblings cheer loudly and they push me aside to hug their brother, and I chuckle at their love for him.

He flicks Fred and George’s hair telling them to stop getting so tall or they might catch up to him. He tells Ginny that she’s still as beautiful as ever, and for Ron to set up the wizarding chess board for a game later tonight. He asks Percy to get all his books ready so he can tell him an in depth description about all of them, and for Charlie to start stretching so he can beat his ass in quidditch. All the while, he shoots me looks from over their shoulders.

Molly kisses her son and scolds him for not writing more often, he tells her that there simply wasn’t enough time, and then Molly, ushers everyone out. I stare at Bill and notice how his arms got larger and he became more chiselled (if possible), I point to the most notable difference. I point to his hair that’s currently in a low bun, making him look so very handsome. I ask, “You grew your hair.”

“Yeah, Mom’s already begged me to cut it twice already.” He chuckles, and I take a few steps forwards towards him. I hug him and put my arms around his neck, and he moves his head to kiss me instead. Kissing me hard, and passionately. It takes me by surprise and I gasp, “Bill, what?”

I don’t get a chance as his lips are back on mine, kissing me harder. I chuckle at his intent, and he wraps his arms around me. Our chests pressed against each other. I breathe him in deeply, and I realise how much I missed him. Every little thing about him too. I pull away to breathe and Bill chases after my lips. That’s when I realise something’s wrong. He’s kissing me because he needs to, he’s holding onto me.

“They’ve given me the job full time-” Bill says and I immediately frown. I start, “I-”

He cuts me off with another powerful kiss and another few seconds of silence where I can hear my heartbeats in my ears due to the lack of oxygen. It felt so blissful despite the ache in my chest because of the lack of air and Bill’s words. Bill starts, “They want me to take the job and move their full time-”

“Bill-”

“But I won’t go, if you ask me to stay.” Bill finishes, and I’m struck by his words. He pecks my lips once more, and I’m left reeling with all this information. I smile, bittersweetly, “You got your dream job…”

“But it’s so far away.” I say, and he nods his head. He pulls my hands in his and he can already feel where I’m going with this. He rants, “You asked me what we are, and I said I don’t know, I never knew, but now I do.”

“You can’t turn down your dream-”

“I know now, I know that I want you, and that I love you, and if you tell me to stay I will. I’ll stay, just tell me to. Tell me that you’ll be mine.” Bill says and he lifts his hands to cup my face, looking at me as if I was the most precious thing in his life, but I’m not. He says, “I never wanted to tell you because I was an idiot, an idiot who was scared that you didn’t want him, an idiot who thought that he would lose you, if he told you he loved you.”

I counter, “This is your dream, Bill. Your future, what you’ve always wanted-”

“No, you’re my future and I’m sorry that I didn’t know it before, but I do know. Ask me to stay, please.” he begs, and I pull his hands down. I look at him cause this might just be one of the few times that I’m going to see him for a long time. I’ve long had the image of his face pressed into my mind. I need to make sure that it withstands the test of time. I reason, “I-I’m not going to make this decision for you by asking you to stay, you might regret as time goes on-”

“I can never regret you.”

“I’m not going to stand in the way of this opportunity for you…you need to make it by yourself. And I’ve always been yours…” I trail off, and press a kiss on his lips. He looks at me dejected and helpless. I say, “Now, let’s go back in, your family’s waiting for you.”

***

Bill’s heading to the ministry any second now to head to the Floo network so he can go to Egypt. His family is going with him, so they can watch him Floo away, and they asked me to come, but I couldn’t because seeing his face before he goes, I might do something stupid like ask him to stay just for me, or maybe go to Egypt right with him.

Molly said she’d come and see me after, they all will definitely be in need of a hug, especially Ginny who’s not going to bear being the only one at the Burrow anymore. I prepared a lot of food for everyone to come and get while they all cope with having Bill move away. I’m not sure I’ve copped myself, I don’t think I ever will.

Knocks echo on my door, and I wave my wand pulling the food out on the table that I’ve arranged mishapely to gather enough chairs for the entire family. I arrange a few more things with the flick of my wand and I realise that I’ve forgotten the cups. I head over to the cupboard, and I flick my wand over to the door, making it fly open.

“Just let yourself in Molly, I’m just putting down the cups!” I pull out eight cups and I hold them in my arms haphazardly, I make my way to the table and start arranging them. I put down all the cups, until there’s two left- “I’m not Molly.”

I looked over my shoulder to where Bill was standing, bags at hand. He smiles at me and I smile back. I look at the clock, and I say, “Couldn’t do without a goodbye? But you’ll miss your Floo time, and you have to go where you’re supposed to-”

“I’m right where I’m supposed to be.” Bill says, and my bittersweet smile drops. I look at him questioningly. He couldn’t possibly mean- He answers my thoughts, “I’m not going.”

He sets his bags down and I put the last two cups randomly on the table. I fiddle with my fingers anxiously. I say, “I don’t want you to throw away your dream for me.”

“It’s more like picking one dream over the other.” Bill says, still standing by the door. He continues, “I want to be a cursebreaker, and I still can be here in England, but I can’t have the life I always wanted with you if I’m miles away, and that’s what I want more than anything.”

It’s the last of the confirmation that I need before heading over to him, rushing into his arms, as he finally holds me, and he whispers that he loves me. He kisses me and I forget to brace myself over how dizzy and giddy he makes me, finally as my own.

a/n: hope you liked it!

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novacorpsrecruit · 4 months

Text

Hi a quick lil read: I did a poll the other day because I was thinking of creating Steddie fic recs and so I decided I’m gonna do 5-10 fic recs a post based on some sort of theme and here’s the first installment! Please feel free to ask for themes, I can’t promise I’ll fulfill them but I’ll do my best.

Theme: my favorite fucking idiots

single / taken / pining by 96tears (Ao3) @pizzaqueen (tumblr)

T | wc 4,435 | no cw

Summary: When a girl Steve’s trying to flirt with starts flirting with Eddie, Steve says the only thing that comes to mind: he tells her Eddie’s married. It’s not his smoothest moment, but it works, and Eddie goes along with it. It's not like Eddie was interested, anyway, and he figures Steve wanted the ladies to himself. So, Steve figures that must be it, too.

But a little later it hits him: he doesn’t want to keep the ladies to himself. He wants to keep Eddie to himself.

Ugh!!! I love it when the dumbasses don’t understand why they’re jealous, or that they’re jealous in the first place. Post season 4, Steve and Eddie work at Family Video and the Arcade respectfully, and come and bug each other during slow times. Steve gets a little jealous when a girl starts hitting on Eddie.

‘cause tramps like us, baby, we were born to run by stellapoint (pettifogger) (ao3) @heybluechild (tumblr)

T | wc 9,308 | no cw

Summary: Realization #1: Steve is wearing a costume. He’s dressed as Springsteen on the cover of Born In The U.S.A. The album cover is staring at Eddie from the stack of records by the speakers, and he flicks his eyes between the cover and Steve, almost laughing at how obvious the resemblance is.

Immediately after that, revelations two and three slam into him like an eighteen-wheeler.

#2: Bruce Springsteen is kind of hot.

#3: Steve Harrington is really hot.

A fourth and much louder thought echoes through Eddie’s brain: oh, shit.

(Many months ago, I wrote a tumblr post about Steve Harrington being a Bruce Springsteen enjoyer. This fic is about that.)

Takes place after season 4, Eddie and Steve are friend. Eddie’s love language is music. He’s a bit of a music snob, and doesn’t understand why Steve wants him to like his music. It takes a moment for it to click to Eddie what’s really going on. I love Eddie but sometimes you want to shake him like a snowglobe and oh my god, I’m shaking him so hard.

wasted crying by MixAddams (Ao3) @mixsethaddams (tumblr)

T | wc 6,471 | cw ow (light angst)

Summary: Steve just wants a buddy.

So why does it hurt so much when Eddie introduces everyone to his new girlfriend?

There’s a happy ending I swear! You’ll just want to bundle Steve up in a few blankets first. Post season 4, Eddie gets a girlfriend, and Steve is not jealous. Not at all. He just … misses being in the honeymoon phase of dating? No that can’t be right… is it? There’s a lot of good heartaches in this fic. I do want to share one of my favorite lines:

“I think so. Stuff like this is supposed to scare you, I think,” said Eddie. “It’s supposed to feel….”

Eddie took a breath and Steve watched his eyes move around as he searched for the words. Steve thought he might wait forever for him to find them.

“It’s supposed to feel like a leap, right?”

I can be pretty (why don’t you think I’m pretty?) by starsdontsleep (ao3)

T | wc 8,942 | no cw

Summary: When Eddie comes out as gay, he assures Steve that he doesn’t find him hot. Steve tells him it’s fine, he even teasingly asks what he should do to change that. It becomes a thing. A way to always make Eddie laugh, blush and relax around him—but as the days and weeks pass, Steve begins to realise that maybe there’s another reason why he cares so much that Eddie Munson finds him pretty.

Remember when I said I’m shaking Eddie like a snowglobe? I’m shaking Steve now. Steve, please tell me why you think you want Eddie to think you’re pretty? Why do you need to know what Eddie’s type? Steve’s only worried that Eddie doesn’t fully trust him with his sexuality. So Steve works to be the best ally… and definitely does not fall in love with his friend along the way.

clown music at the disco by fragilecapricorn (ao3) @fragilecapric0rnn (tumblr)

M | wc 3,717 | no cw

Summary: “What the fuck are you doing here?” He nearly squawked, meaning for it to come out anyway other than that. The man turned around, and here he was. In a stare down with ghostly pale Steve Harrington, who was not only supposed to be straight, but was also in a MESH TANK TOP at Frankie’s on a Wednesday night.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He pauses, glancing around the room, small voice. “It’s disco night.”

Post Season 4, Eddie, Robin and Steve move to the Chicago. Eddie has a new habit of going to the bar on gay disco night, finding another brunette ex-jock to fill the Steve shaped hole in his heart. Until he runs into said brunette ex-jock at the same gay bar on disco night. 10/10 no notes I’ve read this like 5 times.

of all the gin joints by genesisofrhythm (Ao3)

e | wc 4,016 | cw: they fuck | spice level: I read this at my work desk in between meetings

Summary: “So, do you come here often?”

Steve choked at the familiar voice, turning abruptly. “Munson?”

“What’re you doing here?” Eddie asked, his mouth gaping open as he looked over at Steve.

Steve was surprised to see Eddie here as well. What were the odds of them both driving out of Hawkins to come to the same gay bar?

Or: Steve goes to a gay bar to support Robin, when he sees Eddie Munson. He can't tell Eddie the real reason he's there without outing Robin so he tells him he's bisexual. But Steve's totally straight... right?

Steve [Evan Buckley voice]: “I’m an ally ✊”

This is a fun fic, definitely Steve Harrington speed running a sexuality crisis. Good for him. (also I have a soft spot for fics that use fob lyrics as a title, forehead kisses for that)

Exactly What It Looks Like - BilbosMom (Ao3) @bilbosmom-belladonna (tumblr)

E | wc 31,517 | cw | spice level: I should not have read this at my desk 😳🥵

Summary: Steve makes a face at Eddie. “You've imagined doing stuff with a guy?”

“Yeah, man,” Eddie replies, spreading his hands wide. “Doesn't everyone?”

Steve tilts his head to the side as he thinks. Maybe not very often, but his freshman year when Davey Riggs had been swim team captain? Yeah, he had definitely imagined some stuff that had made trips to the locker room kinda awkward.

“Yeah, that's true,” Steve answers, nodding. “I wonder why everybody acts like it's so gross, though.”

In the summer of 1986, Steve and Eddie have some perfectly normal fun between a couple of perfectly normal dudes.

I’m honestly insane over this. Like, I’m going to be thinking about this for a long time. Post-Season 4, Eddie and Steve find themselves watching porn together. And it’s not weird at all if you jerk off next to your new best friend. And maybe it becomes a habit. And helping them out every once in a while isn’t weird. And maybe sucking his cock isn’t weird. Or fucking his thighs —

Please remember to leave kudos and comments on the fics you read/enjoyed! Support your writers 🖤

#steddie #steddie fic rec #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #novacorpsrecruit fic recs #fic recs #long post #if you’re the writer and I missed your tumblr please feel free to let me know!!!!#please feel free to request themes !!

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misguidedasgardian · 3 months

Text

Wild Cats (Part II)

II. On the road

MASTERLIST

Summary: You face your first challenges with your new “team”

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader (slowburn)

Warnings: Zombie apocalypse AU, living dead, zombies, guts, blood, guns, injures, cannibalism, this chapter is particularly hard, if you had seen the series you know what’s coming, THREATS of SA to a minor and to an adult, shooting people, murder, throwing axes, blood, RIck munchin on someone’s throat

+18, MINORS DNI

Notes: As always, I will not describe the reader, the only description about her is that she is not from the US, I don't specify where she is from either. My Walt Disney complex is attacking me again because -again- my reader won’t have any family or parents with her (or that were with her and she saw die), I believe this will give her some sort of “freedom” and the sense that even if she saw “Death” up close and personal, and horrible things she still doesn’t have that cruelty and trauma of witnessing family get killed in front of her.

You started walking, walking, walking. You still had a few hours of light to find another place to camp out, far away from the group that stormed the house. Just across that group of houses, you encountered tracks, train tracks, and you started walking along them.

You spend the night on an old train station, those small ones in the middle of nowhere, you took shifts to keep an eye on things.

Rick wouldn’t let you out of his sight

And you tried to stay calm, he didn't know you, so you did what was expected of you, kept watch like you had done for the last months, helped to make food and snacks. You didn’t dare to ask much, so the silences between you were a bit uncomfortable.

You were super curious about them, but again, they didn’t trust you, and why should they? so you’d think

It was the third night with them, you were on the roof when Rick joined you

“Don’t take this the wrong way”, he started in whispers, “but you don’t strike me as the kind of person who would last this long, out here, alone”, he said in a friendly tone, you look back at him, amused

“Well, looks can be deceiving”, you muttered

“Have you received military training or something?”, this was a nice change

“No, not really, I lived on a farm, we hunted and that sort of stuff”, you said lightly, he looked at you and nodded, “Maybe I watched too many action movies, those were my favorites”, you said, with fond memories in your mind, “you were a policeman, right?”

“How did you know?”, he asked, surprised

“When I looked at you for the very first time I had this immediate feeling of shame, like I was doing something wrong, so…”, he laughed a bit, “I knew”

“Yeah, we evoked that on people”, he said lightly, “I’m sorry you got stranded here, on foreign lands”, you nodded

“Thank you”, you said after a long breath, “I probably won’t ever see my family again and… it's hard to face that reality”

“Where are they?”, he asked

“My family lives in a really small town, and an hour away, they have a farm”, you said lowly, “a farm on a freaking island”, your felt his surprised gaze on you, “I’m sure my brother got them out, my parents, he has big trucks, and he knows how to hunt, he has guns, he knows how to fish, they have cattle…he began farming a bit ago”, you said with a breath of relief, “they are in the best possible place, and I…”

“In one of the worst”, he whispered

“I just really hope they can mourn me”, you whispered, “that they can be at peace with me gone, not knowing what happened to me, and I really… because you are right, everyday I wonder how I got so lucky so survive this long, so I feel like I’m living on borrowed time”

“You can’t think like that if you want to survive”, muttered Rick, “you need to fight for it, every single day”, you nodded. You heard moans and grumbles. There was a full moon today, and clear sky so you saw the fucker coming out of the woods, limping towards the structure you were in, reaching towards you with with its putrid hands. You grabbed your gun with your silencer and shot him straight in the head, quieting him once and for all, and dropping him

You both sighed, as you kept listening to the quiet night.

You let out a strangled whimper. Your family had wanted you to stay home, but you wanted to do this fancy masters degree.

“Have you… lost people too?”, you asked him

“My wife, my best friend, my…”, he choked so you only nodded

“I’m very sorry”, you mumbled, he nodded

“We were a big group, I’m hoping I can still find some of them”

“I’m sure they are out there somewhere”, you said with a hint of hope, if the rest of them were like Rick, Michonne and Carl, you really believed that the more the merrier, this could really be something. But still, you didn’t want to get too attached in case things went south

The next day also found you walking together, Michonne and Carl played at “who could walk longer on the tracks”, and it was quite entertaining to watch, even though Rick wanted to speed things along. They still haven’t told you the next steps. But you were following the tracks hoping they’ll lead you to somewhere.

You have seen posters and maps of some sort of sanctuary, called terminus, if they ask you? it didn’t sound quite right, the maps seemed old and maybe they were, maybe it got overrun, but Rick and Michonne still wanted to check it out

This time, when the sun fell and the night came over you, they just wanted to sleep on the open road. You found a car that was in a pretty good state, so Carl took preference, and locked himself in to sleep for a bit.

You were super scared to be alone in the woods at night, but you didn’t want to say that outloud, so you just grabbed the smallest and softest of flashlights and dived into the woods, it was the call of nature, nothing you could do.

The good part about “walkers” is that they groaned and moaned, so they were easy to spot, especially at night, so you weren’t concerned. Although, you did know that sometimes they entered this “sleep” state, only awakened when a human was near, so you had to be careful about that as well.

After you had done your business, you decided to make a round, all around where Michonne and Rick were talking and Carl was sleeping, maybe it was customary for you at this point, being awake at night. An instinct pulling you into the night, connecting with nature.

When you thought you had done a full lap, you realized that you got a bit lost, you cursed yourself thinking you had counted your steps, clearly you were wrong

You found the street, and by then, you could hear voices.

You first saw a big man by the car, you could only see his silhouette, as the only source of light was the moon and the fire Rick and Michonne had lit up

“We are gonna kill you Rick, not before Dan has his way with your son, and Tony with the lady here…”, you heard someone say, as you came closer, quietly, you realized a man was holding Rick at gunpoint, and another had Michonne.

How the fuck they sneaked past you? you had no clue. You stood there, watching the situation unfold, you didn’t know what to do.

“TEN!”, You grabbed the gun, and unlocked it, you had to help them. You don’t care who those men were, Rick, Michonne and Carl were your group now, you had to defend them. “NINE… EIGHT”

“WAIT!”, Another man, from the other side of the car, appeared

“You stopped me at eight Daryl!”, the man said. This strange man walked up towards RIck and Michonne, and only then you realized two more men were right behind him, your vision impaired by the vehicle between you, you tried to stay in the shadows, you couldn’t go in guns blazing if that would mean one of your group could end up hurt.

“Just hold up!”, he said softly, trying to calm things down

“This is the guy who killed Lou!”, muttered the fifth man, “we got nothing to talk about”, there were five hostile men, one of them, right in front of you, eyeing Carl who was inside the car

“The thing ‘bout now-a-days is we got nothin’ but time”, the ringleader held Rick at gunpoint, they were tightly squeezed together, no space for movement, “say your piece Daryl”

“These people”, the man said, “you’re gonna let ‘em go”, that surprised you, but still you raised your gun to the creep, “these are good people”, he muttered

“I think Lou would disagree with you on that”, RIck had told you he had to take a guy out in the house, this might be the reckoning, “I have to speak for him because your friend here strangled him in a bathroom, let him turn, and come after us”,

“You want blood, I get it, take it from me, man”, this strange man, just threw his weapon, a badass crossbow, into the floor and offered himself up to the maniac. There was a dramatic silence

“This man killed our friend”, you did not have good visibility, but you could hear every breath, “but you say he’s good people, you see? that right there… that is a lie”, his voice dropped an octave and you knew that meant trouble, “IT’S A LIE”, the two men behind him grabbed him and started beating him up, “teach him fellas! teach him all the way!”, the car moved when they pushed and beat him against it. Distracting you, so you couldn’t help when the fat man in front of you opened the door to the car, and dragged Carl out of it.

“YOU LET HIM BE!”, you heard the scream of Rick

You couldn’t move, if you shot “Dan”, then the others could shoot RIck and Michonne, and besides…

DId you had it in you? to kill?

You had done it once, it kept you awake with guilt

They kept beating the man they called Daryl, making your skin crawl, to hear fist against flesh, moans and groans from the man that clearly knew RIck, -in the good sense-, he was probably part of the group RIck was seeking so desperately

“... First we’re gonna beat Daryl to death, then we are gonna have the girl, then the boy, and then we’re gonna kill you, and then we’ll be squared”, you heard him proclaim. You looked in front of you, the fat man, with a knife in his hand, and…

Oh fuck no.

Without even thinking about it, you had your gun up and…

You took the shot and in less than a second you drew a whole in the back of the man’s head.

Before he even dropped to the floor you helped Carl push him off of him. The boy was a whimpering, scared mess, and now that you uncovered yourself, by pure instincts alone, you grabbed him and placed him behind you, away from the guns that were now pointing at you.

In all happened in seconds

When Rick’s eyes anchored themselves at you, he seemed to nod, and then he moved at the speed of lightning, pushing all of his body backwards, a shot made your ears ring, but he had managed to free himself from the other group’s leader, that served as a good distraction as you shot against the man that had Michonne, who was also distracted, your bullet got lodged on his arm, making him scream, that gave Michone the time and space to kick the bastard, making him drop his gun

“Daryl!”, screamed Carl behind you, you looked now with more visibility, and saw the beating was getting worse. He had managed to punch one of the men out of his way, but still was fighting with the other. You grabbed your ax with your other hand, right as he was being pushed against the hood of the car again, then grabbed and pulled backwards towards the other man.

You were even better at throwing axes, -something you discovered in the damn apocalypse-

“DUCK!”, you screamed at the bowman, and he did, just at the same time you threw your ax, slaying the man that was right behind him

But you knew that wasn’t going to finish the job, you jumped and climbed over the hood of the car between you and you threw yourself at the man screaming with your ax nailed in the middle of his chest. You shot him in the head, not even thinking. You fell haphazardly on the floor, twisted your uncle a bit.

Fuck this people

When you turned around Daryl was beating the crap out of this other guy, Michone had shot the man that was holding her and Rick…

Oh Rick

In the midst of screams, he dropped the man, who was bleeding profusely from his neck. When you raised your eyes back again you saw that…

Rick’s mouth was dripping blood, as he spitted out a chunk of meat and more blood

From a second to the next everything went quiet, the archer turned to you after he left that man a moaning mess on the ground, you shared looks, and you offered him your gun. He took it, and put the man out of his misery with one shot on the head.

The adrenaline quickly left you, and you started shaking.

Your kill count just went up to three with one assistance.

You must have whimpered because they all turned to you

Rick went to hug Carl tightly, as did Michonne, the man, Daryl turned back to you, his face was made a bleeding mess, but he nodded when he gave you your gun back. You received it, putting it back in your holster

You told him your name, offering your hand for you to shake, he nodded

“Daryl”, he said, shaking your hand back, although it was more like a growl. You could tell he was this gruff man, his shaggy hair a bit long, covering his eyes, naked arms on display, he was a badass

“You take it you were a part of RIck’s group?”, you asked, and he barely nodded, “we just met three days ago”, you offered as an explanation.

Carl went around the car and hugged you tightly, that took you by surprise, but you gladly hugged him back

“Are you alright?”, you asked, he only nodded against you

You were sleeping in the back of the jeep, pleasantly, as Carl slept on the back seat, cuddled with Michonne.

Rick and Daryl were sharing a moment

“Who was tha’?”, he asked

“Carl found her sleeping on a roof three days ago”, said Rick, they shared looks, “before this, she had only killed one man”

“Now she is up to three”, said Dayl nodding

“We had our doubts at first, but… after tonight…”

“She is one of the good ones”, muttered Daryl

“She is looking up to be a good addition”, he completed, nodding

Post chapter notes: reader was like, “ah hell no, that’s my future husband you fucks” haha

#misguidedtwd #misguidedcats #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl dixon #twd #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon #rick grimes #michonne #carl grimes

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goldenempyrean · 27 days

Note

"cmon you know i don't get sick" + “i’m just trying to get all this work done! i have no time to rest” for supercorp pleasee

i love your writing sm, thank youuu

"Take Me Home?"

〚 Notes - It’s been a while! I’ve been so swamped with work and other stuff, that I honestly haven’t had the chance to write in a while! Hopefully this makes up for it! <3〛

〚 Pairing - Supercorp 〛

〚 Summary - Lena is overworking herself again, Kara has come to take her home. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 1250 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

╚════════ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ════════╝

“Hey you, I’ve brought lunch!” Kara pushed opened the door to Lena’s office with a bright smile, the chirp in her bubbly voice brightening the room a little, “They were all out of those cajun fries you like so I got curly fries instead because who doesn’t like curly fri-“

She paused. Her smile slowly turning into a worried frown as she released something wasn’t right. Sure, the big stacks of piled up newspapers, reports and other random documents weren’t new. Ever since buying CatCo, it seemed Lena’s new office was constantly drowning in paperwork but usually there was a pretty ravenette sat neatly amongst the chaos.

Today, however, Lena was slumped over her desk, her dark hair disheveled and her usually sharp eyes were glassy and tired. She glanced up blearily as Kara entered, quickly trying to muster a smile that turned into a series of sneezes.

“Bless you,” Kara said softly, her brow crinkling a little as she tried to work out what was wrong, “You look awful Lee.”

“Gee, thanks, aren’t you a charmer?” Lena replied, her voice raspy and thick with congestion. She tried to laugh, but it ended in a harsh, wet cough. “Just what I needed to hear.

“Oh Roa, are you sick?” Kara exclaimed as the realisation hit her, dropping the takeout bag on the nearest surface and rushing to Lena’s side. “Why didn’t you tell me? What’s wrong, are you gonna be okay?”

She still wasn’t great at dealing with human sickness. Alex wasn’t one to get ill often and on the occasion that she would, the brunette would often hide it anyway, so Kara still wasn’t the best at judging when someone wasn’t feeling well.

In reply Lena sighed a little and shook her head in denial. Kara’s worried babbling was a little amusing, but her worry was misplaced, “Come on, you know I don’t get sick.”

“Well, that’s a lie.” Kara blinked a little cluelessly, “Everyone gets sick. You had the flu 2 years ago and then was that time just after you moved to National City when we ate that dodgy takeout, and it made you-“

“Okay!” Lena interrupted before she could continue her sentence, not wanting to relive the events. She rubbed her temples for a moment before sighing as she pushed yet another file aside, “You know what I meant, I don’t get sick easily. It’s honestly nothing, just a small bug.”

A “small bug” which moments later had her falling into a rather nasty sounding coughing fit, leaving her barely able to catch a breath before pitching forward helplessly with a series of sneezes, demonstrating quite perfectly how not okay she was.

Kara only hummed softly, shaking her head disapprovingly as she folded her arms over her chest, taking a few steps to stand just in front of her wife’s desk.

“Try again. That doesn’t sound ‘just a bug’ to me. You sound dreadful love.” The blonde sighed, reaching into her bag to pull out a packet of tissues which she offered out to her.

“Kara, honey, there’s nothing to worry about. I just caught a bit of a head cold, thats all,” Lena finally admitted but waved her hand dismissively at the offered tissues, but a damp sniffle undermined her action. “I’m still just trying to find something to link everything back to Edge in these old reports, I know it’s in here somewhere.”

It was work she’d been at it for days now. There was vital proof of Morgan Edge was behind some of the ongoing antics in National City. Just the sort of proof she needed to get finally get him. It was somewhere in these files, she knew it was! But chasing the already loose paper trail she was looking for was no easy task.

The Luthor opened up another file, reading over it for a moment before sighing and pushing it to the side when she realised it didn’t contain the information she needed. Lena turned her head away to muffle another short, rough cough into her elbow before letting her head fall onto her hands, “This is useless, it’s gonna take ages to find what I need like this.”

Kara sighed sympathetically, “I think you’d do better if you could actually focus love, let me take you home?” She offered as she went to the side to pour some water into a glass before offering it out to her.

Lena accepted the glass with a soft smile. She seemed to debate her offer for just a second, her tired eyes gazing longingly at Kara for a moment before she stubbornly shook her head with a firm decision, “I’m just trying to get all this work done, I have no time to rest. I can sleep when it’s done.”

This wasn’t going to satisfy her wife, however. The Kyrptonian knew how stubborn the Luthor could be, especially when it came down to work, but Kara was stubborn too, especially when it came down to the health of someone she cared about.

Kara raised an unimpressed eyebrow, her hand coming to rest on her hip, “And just how much sleep have you been getting recently?”

“Enough.” Lena mumbled somewhat evasively, her tired gaze not quite meeting the blonde’s eyes. She hadn’t been home in a few days, instead she’d been opting instead to sleep at the office or her lab at L-Corp.

Kara narrowed her eyes, clearly not convinced. “Lena,” She began slowly, her tone gentle but firm, “You know you can’t keep running on empty like this. If you don’t take care of yourself, you’re going to burn out. Then where will you be?”

Lena opened her mouth to argue, but the words were cut off by another round of violent coughing. She turned away, trying to suppress the fit, but it left her breathless and drained. When she finally caught her breath, she looked up at Kara with weary eyes, the fight in her slowly ebbing away.

“I just... I need to get this done, Kara,” Lena said, her voice cracking slightly, more from the strain than emotion. “Edge has been untouchable for too long, and if I don’t find something to take him down...”

Kara’s expression softened as she moved closer, placing a hand on Lena’s shoulder and squeezing softly, “I know how important this is to you,” She murmured reassuringly, “But you’re not going to be any good to anyone if you work yourself into the ground like this.”

Lena hesitated, her resolve wavering under Kara’s pleading gaze. The thought of curling up in bed, of letting herself rest in the warmth of her love’s arms, was becoming more and more appealing. She knew she couldn’t keep going like this—not if she wanted to be effective in any of her roles, as a CEO, as a friend, as a wife.

Finally, she sighed in defeat, nodding slightly. “Okay,” She spoke, her voice was hoarse and barely audible, but Kara heard the whispered words nonetheless, “Take me home?”

The blonde smiled, finally glad to have broken through, “Of course sweetheart, come here.”

Kara extended a hand, helping lift Lena her up from the seat before pulling the Luthor into her arms, Lena let out a content sigh. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” She murmured, nuzzling her head into the safety of Kara’s neck.

Kara only smiled and kissed the top of Lena’s head as she held her a little closer. “You’ll never have to find out.”

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bunnypeew · 4 months

Text

Delusions - Vox x Gn!reader

okay okay so I have found a cool prompt to write so I'm gonna write it for Vox cuz I've been in love with him recently and I also haven't written anything for Vox yet ahahha just so you know I'm sucker for doll Velvette so she is seen as one here

They started this job at the Voxtek enterprise building a couple of months ago, they were really down on their luck but we were also really good with tech in general and, since it hadn't been that long since they got in hell, they were looking for everything that guaranteed them some sort of protections from the exorcists but from the hell citizens in general.

Now, it wasn't like them to make friends with their boss, hell not even in their life had they ever done that, they always had kinda creepy bosses all their life so it was easy not to befriend them. But with the Vees it was different, well at least with Vox and Velvette, they had always found Valentino a bit creepy with the kink stuff and everything but the other two had been somehow nice to them for the past few months, they both weren't the best at showing kindness, it was actually kind of a struggle but they somehow did it only with them.

Now they were really naive so they couldn't really tell that Vox was mostly being nice cuz he was starting to fall for them, he wouldn't admit it to himself or to anyone really but he was. Velvette had caught wind of that and started flirting on purpose with Y/n to the point where Vox would short-circuit often from how mad he was, today was one of those days.

''so Y/n, what are you planning to do tonight?,,

Velvette says, a smirk on her face while looking at Vox scolding one of his employees, now Y/n was a bit concentrated on their work so they weren’t really listening going “huh” like two times before catching what she said, this made them blush a bit

“oh, em, nothing really, working probably, why?,,

they say putting down their clipboard and looking at the doll like demon

“oh I don’t know maybe you’d want to hang out or something get away from work for a bit,,

they giggle at the offer she made but shakes their head and takes their clipboard and leaves.

as they leave they bump into someone walking towards them, that someone being Vox himself, he catches them last minute with a hand on their back, then looks them in the eyes before helping them back up.

“you gotta be more careful newbie,,

they fix their posture and looks at him while laughing

“can’t believe you still call me a newbie even tho i’ve been working here for months,,

he smirks and chuckles moving his hand to stroke the side of their cheek to some non-existent dust, they unconsciously lean into his touch and blush. This made Vox almost short-circuit again for the thousandth time but instead, he took a deep breath and looked them in the eyes for a rather long time

''em, mister Vox are you alright?,,

they say a little bit concerned, reaching for the side of his screen to see if he was over-heating or something, but as soon as he saw the hand come near him he backed away and coughed out loud

''do not worry dear I am fine, now get back to work please,,

they heeded and picked up their clipboard and ran to whatever their job was. Vox now that they were gone dropped his happy and calm facade for a more concerned and stressed look, he then goes and bumps into Velvette

''what the fuck Vox look where you're going and what is it with the face- ohhhh, I get it. Bumped into Y/n have you? mhhh?,,

she says mockingly, laughing and looking at him getting mad

''listen here you little shit, I am not in the mood for your bullshit,,

''wow come on, what happened now,,

he slaps his screen and sighs

''I happened, I'm such a shit flirter I SWEAR TO GOD- T-T-THIS IS SO STUPID-D-D-D,,

he was starting to short-circuit again.

''Vox chill out for fuck sake,,

a little bit of smoke was coming out off the top of his screen while he was glitching again, he did manage to calm down after a few seconds, took a deep breath and facepalmed himself whining

''you're in love aren't you,,

his head springs up and looks directly at Velvette with a hated filled stare

''I think you're delusional,,

''and I think you are in denial,,

she says with an all-knowing expression on her face, hands on her hips striking a pose

he just grunts and stomps the floor a couple of times before taking a deep breath, fixing his tie and walking away to find Y/n

they were doing some shipment paperwork for the carmine parts that were supposed to come, they stopped when they saw Vox come into the room

''oh hey sir, do you need something,,

they say smiling and putting the paperwork down. Vox comes closer and pushes them towards a wall to then pin them.

their face was completely red and they had a confused look on their face, their arms pressed to their chest, eyes looking directly in his.

''s-sir what are you-,,

''stop calling me sir okay? just call me Vox, understood?,,

They nod sheepishly and look sideways shyly only for Vox to pull up his hand and turn their head back to his. He then leans in and kisses them on the lips. this transmits electricity all throughout their body making their hair fizzle up a little. They kiss him back tho, putting a hand on the side of his screen and the other one on his chest

Electricity was literally in the air around them. They stop the kiss, a sparkle leaving both their lips before they look each other in the eyes again. They both hear a snap of a camera, making them turn around to see Velvette taking a picture of them while yelling yoink and running away

''VELV-E-ETTE-E-E-E,,

I LOVED WRITING THIS LITERALLY LOVED ITTTTTTT I LOVE VOX SO MUCH RN EHEHEHE ANYWAY HOPE YOU ENJOYED THEONESHOT <3

#hazbinhotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin hotel valentino #vox #hazbin vox #the vees #vox x reader #vox hazbin hotel #vees #valentino hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader

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carryonafi · 7 months

Text

games we play.

ashton irwin x reader; SMUT!!🔞

a/n: hiii 😋 there’s a ton of really cool stuff coming up!! but for now here’s this little college oneshot that i wrote sort of on a whim. it’s a short little thing, but possible part 2??

enjoy!!

words: 2.1k

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

It was hard to focus on the lecture when all you could see in your peripheral vision was the impatient shuffling and sounds of fabric against each other. He cleared his throat, adjusted his pants, twirled his pen, tapped his fingers on the desk — Jesus, what was his problem?

Your head whips in his direction to finally look at him, shrugging your shoulders in an exaggerated, animated way to get his attention. You mouth those exact words to him, “What’s your problem?”. Oh, that boy. His cheeks were flushed a light shade of pink, his pupils were dark and blown out which hid the forestry green of his irises. Ashton wanted something from you.

He reached into his pocket, slipping his phone out and began furiously tapping the screen. Instinctively, you reached for your own — but not before rolling your eyes and giving a faux sigh of annoyance. Before you could even type in your passcode, your phone vibrated in your hands.

“i need you.”

“like, right now.”

A few days ago, you had met Ashton at a party and he insisted on giving you his number. The way you two met would be a story for another time, but it didn’t leave much imagination to how he suddenly became attached to you. He blew up your phone every night with one text after another, each vibration making you wonder why you had ever agreed to do anything with him in the first place — but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop. Something about having this guy, notorious for having countless girls on his arm 24/7 made you feel pride. Ashton was texting you, asking you to hook up on his lonely nights when he didn’t want to keep his hands to himself.

However, your eyes scanned the texts with caution, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you thought and… maybe it was on purpose just to make that visibly uncomfortable boy driven even further into his teenage mind.

“… and?”

You replied quickly, seeing him jump out of the corner of your eye, to which you smiled and immediately drew yourself back into watching the text bubble.

“you should meet me in the bathroom.”

You could see him, biting his nails and tugging on the collar of his shirt as he waited for your reply. You wanted to tease him a bit more, but he looked so antsy and you couldn’t deny that you wanted this too.

“fine, go. i’ll be there in 5”

It was like a switch went off, his chair was roughly pushed out as he tripped and struggled to push it back in towards the desk. You bit back a smile, shutting off your phone and keeping your eyes on the professor at the front of the room while others around you two looked at Ashton struggling to stay quiet. You didn’t give him a glance, instead, you listened to the sound of his footsteps as he moved among the aisles and exited the room.

A minute or two went by, you checked the time, then your surroundings before moving out of your seat much nicer than Ashton did a few moments prior and exited the room yourself. You would be lying if you said your heart was beating at a regular speed, that was the only thing you could hear accompanied by the sounds of your boots on the floor as you made your way through the halls.

“You know what my favorite thing about this is?” You heard a voice from your left, startling you and causing your heart to beat even faster.

“Jesus Christ, what’s wrong with you?” You whisper-yell, my eyebrows furrowing as Ashton gestured with two fingers for you to come closer.

“I don’t think there’s that much ‘wrong’ with me.” He whispered back, a cheeky grin on his face as you approached. You didn’t have to be this quiet… but the pressure of trying to make minimal noise made this much, much more arousing. “Anyway, I was going to say I love how considerate this place is, y’know? The family bathrooms with one stall?”

“Yeah, very considerate.” You mumble, taking a few steps into the bathroom and closing the door behind yourself. Ashton locked it, the sound ringing in your ears. Nothing could have prepared you for the moment that he cupped your face and pressed his lips to yours, hastily walking you backwards so his back was pressed to the tile and you were standing in front of him. It was always like a competition with him, trying to see who could make out with the other faster, who could bite the other’s lip first, who could shed their clothing the fastest — but you needed to be quick.

“Want you to suck me off.” Ashton sighed against your lips, his hands tracing the curve of your neck, down your shoulders and over your sides… each feathery touch of his fingertips sent shivers down your spine.

Despite your need, you pulled away from his endless string of kisses and looked him in the eyes. There it was again, the sparkle in his eyes and the swollen pink of his lips which gave you that one last push to give him what he asked for.

“That's all you want?” You tease, your eyes trained on the way his tongue darted out over his bottom lip before he sucked in a sharp inhale.

“No.” The reply accompanied a smile. “But I don’t think we have much time.”

“Hm… this might have to continue after class, won’t it?” Ashton was thinking the same, you could see it in the way he blinked and swiftly nodded his head. His floppy hair fell into his eyes, removing one hand from your hip to push it to the side to get a clear view of you in front of him.

“You’ll actually let me come over this time, right?” His lip stuck out slightly, showing your boring eyes a pout. “Please, baby?”

Ashton could make you melt, you gave him a sigh just like you did before and nodded. Without you saying a word, he was already smiling like an idiot. Then with one last sweet peck to his pouty lips you slowly dropped to your knees. One first to brace your impact then the other, your skirt was short enough to not cover your knees and you could feel the cold tile beneath your skin. You could hear Ashton, pulling in a shaky breath with your lips inches from his clothed erection. This drove you crazy, but hell, it would be a while before you admitted that.

“Come on… stop teasin’.” He whined above you, soft edges to each word he spoke. You couldn’t deny him any longer, your own eagerness halting any further rational or creative thought. Ashton just looked so good, and this vulnerability he was showing set a fire burning within your abdomen.

Your hands slowly wandered up his thighs, playfully struggling with the stubborn button and tugging down his zipper in one swift move. Ashton bit back a sound of relief from the pressure being released, he replaced that sound with a soft sigh. It was obvious he was holding it in.

“You’re so tense.” You mumble, fingertips creeping up towards the hem of his jeans and catching the fabric of his boxers. Your plan was to remove them both at once, but these pants were tight… how the hell did he wear these? “Didn’t even know you could get like this.. so pent up.”

“Jus’—“ Ashton hissed, getting visibly impatient. His words came just before you tugged his jeans down to give you more than enough access. The sound that slipped past his lips once you wrapped a hand around his dick sent another chill down your spine, the way his eyelids fluttered and his head fell back against the wall. Ashton was a sight. You wanted more, you wanted more than anything to see him come undone within minutes then having to go back to class with non-stop thoughts of you on your knees making him dizzy.

Your eyes stayed trained on his face, not breaking the hold you had on him as you leaned forward and let the tip gently brush across your lips.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He pleaded, unable to take his own eyes off of you despite how badly he wanted to lean back against the wall again.

You wanted to say so much, but that wanton look on his face stopped you. Ashton looked too good to resist, and you weren’t one to deny him his pleasure anymore.

You slowly took him in your mouth, watching his lips part again and those wide green eyes gradually blinking and flickering closed. Ashton made so many… expressions, ones that urged you to take more of him in your mouth so you could see the other faces he could make.

“Shit…” He mused, hips pushing off of the tile wall as he rested a hand atop your head to guide himself further down your throat. His eyes lit up like a genius. “Wanna fuck your mouth, can I do that, please?”

That’s definitely not what you expected to come out of his mouth, but with your own quite occupied, you hummed an affirmative response around him and he caught the hint. Ashton bit down on that swollen bottom lip of his, letting out another groan that sounded more like a cocky laugh of satisfaction from deep in his chest. “Too fuckin’ good to me.”

Everything moved a bit quickly, but he was still quite gentle. His hand held your hair tightly, the sting just enough to bring you to whine but not enough to cause awful pain. Ashton acted all “bad boy”-ish, like he didn’t care who he was fucking or how, as long as he got to cum— but oh he cared. Even as you whined his grip loosened to a more comfortable position.

His hips lazily rolled to feel the drag of your tongue against the underside of his cock, that warm, inviting feeling of your mouth engulfing him completely as he cautiously analyzed your face. These soft, pleasurable sounds would make themselves known in the echo of the bathroom over those minutes. Through labored and uneven breathing he used you to his disposal, the thought making you squeeze your legs together.

You swallowed around him and hollowed your cheeks, but that’s what made him lose control. He sucks in another breath, muttering a few curses as he pleads with you to repeat that action without any words. Ashton was getting close, how his hips stuttered and lost the slow, steady rhythm they had just a few moments ago.

“Fuck, fuck— yeah, just’a bit longer, baby.” He said in this obscene tone of voice which dripped from every syllable. His hand held you tighter again. “Fuckin’ look at you, god…” With one final moan which sent vibrations coursing throughout his nerves, that was the last thing he needed as he reached his orgasm without a second thought.

Ashton caught his breath, his chest rising and falling under the force of his rough exhales. Another idea crossed his mind.

“Fuckin’ hell— can you swallow? Want you to show me.” He breathed, and it left you no choice but to deal with the taste and obey. You stuck out your tongue coated in his cum long enough for him to see, then retracting and doing just as you were told. Swallowing him down, then opening your mouth again to show Ashton that every last drop was gone. He nodded in approval, taking his eyes off of you just for a moment to straighten himself up and zip up his jeans.

“What do I get in return?” You asked playfully, expecting him to have a dumb response already on the tip of his tongue. But he hesitated.

“You’ll see if you let me come over.” There it was, he wet his lips and flashed a bit of a smile. You returned it, rolling your eyes as you straightened out your own outfit. “Wanna let me get under that skirt, maybe?”

“Quit talking, go back to class. I’ll wait a few minutes.” You looked over at the mirror, running your fingers through your hair as you followed Ashton’s movements in the reflection. His eyes tracing over your frame, lingering a bit too long on your skirt.

“No one cares, you know? Just come back with me.” He pressed, catching your eyes in the mirror. Once he realized that you weren’t budging, it was his turn to roll his eyes and sigh. “I’ll see you.” Ashton mumbled, a hint of amusement still laced in his voice that urged you to smile as you waved him off. This would continue, the game you were playing wasn’t over.

#5 seconds of summer #5sos fanfic #ashton irwin #calum hood #luke hemmings #michael clifford #5sos one shot #5sos smut #5sos x reader #ashton irwin x reader

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 9 months

Note

Not sure if this is where you want your asks to be sent or not, I'm new to your blog so sorry if this is the wrong place

There is another instruction for Wally that I haven't seen you talk about and I want to know your thoughts! Back in november, before the responses, the secret URLs (such as woxyve) had the word "delete" added to the end (ex: woxyvedelete) implying that they wanted Wally to delete the page. After this most recent update it changed again and now says nodelete meaning that Wally refused to do that task. Thoughts?

where else would asks be sent if not the Askbox! inbox! both!

i actually wasn't aware of this until a few days ago, when i saw a post pointing it out - i had never gone directly back to those pages. which serves me right! i'm gonna be double checking Everything from now on lmao

but my fucking GOD is it interesting. thus far Wally has been... fairly cooperative. he's had a moment here and there, such as closing the guest book and losing his patience a lil, but he does his best with the rest! especially with requests! so for him to straight up go "lmao nah" when asked to delete something...

characterization-wise, i think it's very telling. as of now, Wally has been commonly portrayed as a bit of a doormat - getting talked over, sitting off to the side, being a bit of a background character - in in-Home media. less so in his whrp/qa/You interactions, but he's still widely agreeable & willing. but him refusing to delete the urls gives major points to him Having A Spine. he's holding his ground. he knows what he's doing. he's not going to let the whrp shut him up. there's a Thought Process / Plan / Purpose being shown here, or at least hinted at. there's a sense of.... Control. of "this is the way we're doing things, this is what i'm saying and you're going to sit down and listen" it's just... such a shift from the Wally we see in his interactions with the neighbors. which again, lends credence to there being a time discrepancy, with whrp Wally being older and more "experienced" while past Wally is still figuring his shit [being alive] out <3

story-wise it adds some Delightful friction. like obviously there's already tension, what with the staff only page, "Let Me In", the mysterious black stuff, the guest book closing, and the whrp/qa being disturbed by it all. but Wally outright refusing to delete things is a Different sort of conflict. it's more... direct. which makes sense! his interactions with the whrp/qa are becoming more personal, too. but it lends to the feeling of a push-pull. as the whrp/qa investigates Wally and starts treating him like the person he is instead of a long-lost character, they're probably gonna clash (a lot) despite the apparent impulse to pursue Welcome Home. currently, Wally doesn't seem big on compromising. if he doesn't know what to do, it looks like he simply Won't or he'll do his own thing and be like "shrug". if he doesn't want to do something, it also looks like he simply Will Not.

of course, there's the strong possibility that the whrp Were Not Serious about it. the 'delete' command might have them testing the waters, poking the bear, etc. but then were they testing to see if Wally is there, or were they testing his level of compliance? both? a secret third option?

and if they Were serious about it... why? what is it about the marked urls that made the whrp go "get that outta here"? and why couldn't they delete it themselves? i mean, obviously they can't delete anything Wally adds, otherwise the extra stuff he's added probably wouldn't be there (unless the impulse / curiosity driving them is too strong to delete anything added). but there's still a why about it. what changed so fundamentally in the site's code - or laws of physics/reality - that made it impossible to alter Wally's additions?

it's just. i feel that there are a lot of implications in such a small interaction. it shows more than one would expect.

#I JUST. AGH #idk if i said any of this in a way that makes sense #how would/do the whrp/qa react to that? to him being like 'we are Not deleting this <3'#whether they were serious about it or not thats Gotta raise some feelings #were they scared? frustrated? shocked? vindicated?#MAN IM SO CURIOUS #wally said no! the whrp asked and He Said No!#i mean to be fair #from what we know about wally - both from shared trivia/thoughts and the main canon #he doesnt seem hesitant to say No in general #but still. with almost everything else asked of him he Tried. he made an effort. hm #homebogging #rambles from the bog #wh speculation #welcome home speculation #AND THEN - OH THIS IS A TANGENT!#about him flipping sally's portrait. HOW THE FUCK? its technically a 2-d image. there isn't a back #so did wally make a back - or did his Direct Interaction bend reality and make it so that there's one to show?#fucking Fascinating. i mean i already have a lot of thoughts on reality fuckery in this story but mmmmm man. implications.#or - oh or - are the character portraits The Characters. this is a crack theory but hm #the fact that there are tiny versions of some of the neighbors in their houses on the map. trapped inside. multiple franks.#you see what im getting at?#not to say that they're trapped in the site! but what if there's a direct Connection. the character and the art aren't explicitly separate #as implied with wally's 'every time you look into my eyes' / 'you draw mine'#if his art has a direct link to him - Is him in a sense - why wouldn't that be the case for the others #huh. i wonder if they'll ever sense it like he does. will they ever look back? will their pupils slowly start to look at the screen?#i mean the teeny eddie in the post office is looking straight out at us but yk. Inch Resting.

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gyuswhore · 1 year

Note

Heyy!! Since its my bday soon🤭 can u do a mingyu idol x non idol reader. Like Mingyu secretly cheated on her but in some way they can get a happy ending together

Oh wow, this was something. I'm a big believer that you really can't justify cheating so I hope the loophole I created makes sense.

Hope you enjoy it though, thank you for requesting! And happy birthday!!!!

masterlist

***

The headlines were shocking, but not enough for you to not question them. You had signed up for jumpscares such as this one when you first started dating Mingyu, and this was supposed to be just another rumor.

Granted that he's never had one of this sort before, it did intrigue you a little bit. You wished you hadn't opened the article the second you saw the pictures, blurry as they were, the article was connecting the dots a little too well.

The rock had already settled in your stomach as you were unable to tear your eyes away from the man in the picture, that's looking increasingly like Mingyu with every passing second.

Ring on his pinky, checkered scarf that you got him. The smile as he held this other woman's hand.

Mingyu's all over the place when he gets home, flustered and trying to explain himself.

You were silent, uncomfortable and wanting nothing more than a valid reason to come out of his mouth.

"That isn't me"

You can't help but scoff, "Mingyu, please don't be difficult"

"I'm serious, this was taken somewhere in Busan, the last time I was there was last year!" He says.

He drops down on his knees in front of you, guiding you to look at him. "You've never believed anything the tabloids say, why would you think I'd do something like this?"

"The ring? The scarf? Mingyu it all fits too well!"

"Anybody could wear a ring and anybody can own a checkered scarf, this guy looks a little bit like me and I'm suddenly cheating?"

His concern right now wasn't the article, they simply thought he had a girlfriend, a rumor that would blow over soon enough. His concern was you, because you were sitting here thinking he had the ability to look at, let alone touch, anyone other than you.

"Do you not believe me? I need you to talk to me so we can figure this out" His voice was cracking slightly, and you look up through your own blurred vision to see him holding back his own tears.

"I want to believe you" you whisper, "But can you blame me?"

"No, I don't. Whoever this guy is, he looks like me and that's it. It doesn't move past a resemblance. The article's talking about last week Wednesday, we had date night the same day!"

He's making sense, and so does the absurd idea that you were believing the same tabloids that were due course to ruining his career these past years.

A ring? A scarf? That was your proof? Who's wearing scarves in this heat anyway, Mingyu had packed them away with his winter stuff ages ago.

You immediately begin to feel stupid at the predicament you found yourself in, nothing was aligning as seamlessly as you thought it did. And you trusted Mingyu more than whatever lies anyone with a credibility score in the negatives could tell you.

The conversation was dropped and ensued the string of mutual apologies and a few tears along that road. You held him close and he couldn't imagine holding anyone else like he did you. He'd deal with the blubbering fools who started this, he tolerated it when it was about him but his already thin string of patience had snapped this time around.

That didn't matter to him right now, the only thing on his mind was making sure you felt like the most loved human on the planet.

#kim mingyu #mingyu fluff #mingyu angst #mingyu fic #mingyu drabbles #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #mingyu x reader #em.writes #em.anon

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giorno-plays-piano · 1 year

Text

We're In This Together

Pairing: monster!Peter Parker x monster!reader

Warnings: yandere-ish Peter, allusion to non-con, gore, child abuse, a bit of body horror (nothing descriptive), death of minor characters, smut, hurt/comfort.

Words: 3.2k

Summary: Peter wasn't like you, he had said. He wasn't a demon, really, but he made a deal with one, promised his life in exchange for this power. He hadn't had a good life, he said, hemming as if it was something to laugh about, so he had wanted to change it. When he needed it most, a man showed up in front of him, a strange man with strange limbs growing from the wrong parts of his body. The man had killed someone Peter hated for him and asked if Peter wanted to be strong, and Peter said yes. And then he could grow any limbs he wanted himself.

________

"Don't you think it's strange they still have no idea what's happening?" You wondered, wiping your shoe on a garbage bin, behind you a bloody mess of flesh and bones that was a lesser demon just a few minutes ago. "It's been almost a week."

The guy snorted, getting on one knee to rummage through dead demon's clothes and swiftly pulling out a fat leather wallet out of a pocket of his coat. It was conveniently full of cash, you saw when your partner in crime opened it and took out the money, pocketing them before you had a chance to say something.

"What?" He asked, squinting at you wearing a confused expression. "Too morally dubious to steal money from a demon who murdered hell knows how many people? Don't try to make me feel bad about it."

Well, maybe it was sketchy, but now it didn't sound too bad. In the end, you got nothing for cleaning the city from these creatures, not even a kind word since people conveniently didn't see demons until the creatures pounced on them. You could hardly blame Peter for wanting to benefit from this bloodbath at least somehow.

"We could go shopping," he smirked as he observed his own bloodied sweatpants that were beyond salvation. "I'd buy you some pretty stuff you like."

Yeah, maybe it didn't sound too bad. You wouldn't mind a change of clothes, especially since you had nothing but top and worn-out jeans.

It had started with you waking up in the middle of the night in a place you couldn't recognize, surrounded by dead bodies and blood. The sky had been bright red, and you remembered the distinctive smell of gas as if something had exploded nearby. You had lost consciousness before you could understand what had been happening around you.

The next morning, you had woken up in a place you hadn't recognized either, but a very different place, nonetheless. There had been no fire, no bodies, no blood. You had been laying on the top of a building, a high school, as you found out later. How did you end up there? Who had carried you to the rooftop? Why? And, most importantly, who were you?

It wasn't like you remembered nothing about who you were. You had a good idea about how your house looked, what you liked and disliked, what sorts of courses you took in uni, and that you had a job back home... but when you thought about the faces of your parents, they were blank. You couldn't remember the name of your hometown, either. The circumstances of your arrival here... or what had happened that night when you woke up with dead people all around you remained shrouded in mystery. One thing you knew for sure: you weren't entirely human.

And neither was Peter. You found him on the first or second day of your awakening: everything was blurry, your mind hazy, and you couldn't really recall what you were doing after you had woken up on the roof of a high school. You did, however, distinctly remember him fighting a hellish-looking creature, all exposed flesh and bones, in a back alley somewhere at the outskirts of the city. Not that Peter didn't look like a demon himself with his arms changing form, stretching, razor-sharp teeth growing right through his skin, multiple mouths biting off chunks of flesh from the creature.

But Peter was human, and the creature was not. And when the creature had stabbed him in the chest, you suddenly felt like it was wrong for Peter to die and that it was very sad to see him on the ground, bleeding so much. He was young, and he fought the demon because he felt it was wrong to let it roam free, to let him stuff its belly with other humans who'd be helpless against it. Peter had done a good thing, and the world would be poorer without him, you thought and crushed the creature with a giant arm coming out of your back, ripping through your jacket. You remembered the squelching sound the creature's body made under your massive palm when you squished it like a bug.

Despite you being sure you were human, apparently, you were not. Or not entirely, at least.

Putting back a piece of flesh in Peter's chest wasn't easy, but you had done it like you knew exactly what needed to be done, and it grew back in very nicely, and the boy no longer bled. He opened his eyes and stared at you for a long, long time.

You remembered asking him to lead the way to his home - although you couldn't recall what exactly triggered you to go there - and him bringing you to a stuffy apartment somewhere at the edge of the city. Then, you supposed, you either fainted or went to sleep. By the time you woke up, the boy was at your side, waiting impatiently when you'd come around.

Peter wasn't like you, he had said. He wasn't a demon, really, but he made a deal with one, promised his life in exchange for this power. He hadn't had a good life, he said, hemming as if it was something to laugh about, so he had wanted to change it. When he needed it most, a man had shown up in front of him, a strange man with strange limbs growing from the wrong parts of his body. The man had killed someone Peter hated for him and asked if Peter wanted to be strong, and Peter said yes. And then he could grow any limbs he wanted himself.

He wasn't some fighter for justice, he said. He didn't get power to protect humanity against demons. There hadn't been any demons in the city that time to begin with, just his teacher, the man with strange limbs. He had fun with his new power, he said. But then the elder gods had showed up and wrecked chaos, and his teacher was killed. Then the lesser demons had appeared, and while he saw some that were harmless, others were eager for human flesh, and it was making him sick. So, he had killed a couple. And the last one killed him. And then you came and brought him back.

He wasn't a very gentle man, you saw. He was intentionally rough and swore all the time and acted like he couldn't care if the world went down tomorrow, but when you asked him for water, he brought you a glass, and when you said you were hungry, he made you a sandwich. And when you went on a demon hunt next night, he shielded you from a monster aiming at your back.

Peter was an ally. A friend.

"This would look good on you," the guy snorted, handing you a short leather skirt and motioning to the fitting rooms. "I'll come back after you're done."

You had a whole heap of clothes in your hands. Nodding to him, you went into one of numerous cabins, carefully putting hangers on a rack before you took out a skirt and started changing.

You weren't wearing clothes like that before. Now you liked leather, vinyl, low-cut crop tops, and studded jackets. Why? Was it because it no longer mattered what other people would think? Because nothing really mattered after these grotesque monsters appeared, and you didn't know if you'd live tomorrow? Or was it because that's what Peter liked, and you unconsciously decided to please him?

Peter asked you who you were and how you had saved him, but there wasn't much to tell. You didn't remember making a deal with demons, and you weren't demon-born either. You didn't think so, at least. You had human parents, human life, and until that night, there was nothing wrong with your body, no powers to speak of. What if you weren't human then, Peter had asked. What if those weren't your memories?

You'd be very sad if they weren't yours, you had told him.

But even if they belonged to you, you didn't harry to get back the life you had. You couldn't even tell how you had ended up in this city, surely far away from home. All you could say was that it wasn't important, your life back then. The elder gods and demons, they were the cause of your worry now. Maybe you couldn't remember anything because you were destined to stop them or something like that. And so that nothing could distract you from your mission, some memories of yours were taken away.

Sounds poetic, the guy said mockingly, but you could see he wasn't sure himself. Somehow, you ended up killing the creature he had fought but saved him, nonetheless, even if that night they both looked like demons. You had distinguished right from wrong, knowing nothing about him.

You were glad he was alive, you had told Peter. You liked him.

His face turned fiery red, and he grumbled something inarticulate to you. You could feel he liked you, too. He liked you since that night when he had woken up to you wiping blood off his chest.

"For you," he said when you left the cabin with a top and that leather skirt he gave you. He was handing you a small paper bag with a nice pink pattern on it. "They'd look cool on you."

Earrings. Nice, pretty silver earrings, shining under the bright light of a fitting room.

"I'll put them on," the guy took the box out of hands and pulled them out, then fumbled with the clasp. You felt his hands trembling just a little when he carefully put them in your ears.

You vaguely remembered it was supposed to be a necklace a man should help a woman to put on, not earrings, but you didn't correct Peter. His touch was warm, human.

"Good," he murmed, avoiding looking at you, his face turning red again despite his best efforts to look indifferent, and marched to the cashier with your clothes in hand. "I'll pay."

He was a good boy. Before the demon had come and made him the way he was, he was a tender creature, soft and caring, with kind hands and a good heart. But people hadn't treated him right, and he couldn't stop them from hurting him. Years had been going by, but people still weren't kind to him, and so he was no longer kind either.

Sometimes, you wondered if he murdered his parents like he murdered the classmates who had abused him. You knew his father had been hitting him, sensed it when you touched him and he shriveled back on impulse before he realized, when you heard him thinking - god knows how, really - and you weren't sure if it was bad he killed him. Murdering people wasn't a good thing, surely, but his father was beating him, and maybe it was alright Peter got rid of him.

It would've been fair.

___________________

It was already evening by the time you got home.

"I'm itching," you blurted out as soon as you took off your shoes, and Peter sent you a sly smile. He knew what it meant.

He had gotten this strange itch too shortly after he made a deal with demon. It happened because it was hard for a human body to contain raw monster power, he said. You needed more energy. But what sort of energy? Did it mean you needed to sleep or eat more? No, he said. He had kindly offered to show you.

At first, you suspected him tricking you - Peter was hungry, and he would take anything there was to take - but sex with him felt good, nonetheless. He was possessive, dominating, and sometimes it felt like he was having some sort of revenge - not against you, against women in general. Women who hadn't wanted him before he became a half-demon, before his feeble body grew in size, his powers developed, and he stopped being a loser he had been. But then he looked into your face after you kissed him, and something changed in his expression. He hugged you tight like you were about to dissappear, fucking you into his bed, and you felt his desperation, his desire for warmth, for company. He needed you so much more than he showed.

It hadn't been painful. A little rough, perhaps, with a pleasant sort of pain following, but never really painful. Surprisingly, after a little help, Peter turned out to be a considerate lover.

And the itch really stopped.

Later at night, when you two lied in bed, wrinkled blankets cast aside as you put your head right beneath Peter's arm, your breath warming his side as you absent-mindedly put your palm on his chest, you asked him, "Could you put on TV?"

He visibly stiffened, narrowing his eyes at you. "Why? What do you expect to see there?"

You smiled dreamily, letting out a breath, and kissed him just beneath his rib, earning an unexpected grunt from the boy.

"I think I used to fall asleep with a TV on." You murmured, staring at an old TV set standing against the wall with peeling discolorated wallpaper before you furrowed your brows. "I think I did."

You felt Peter relax against you, grubbing a black remote control with dust covering its buttons somewhere from the side table and pushing one of them, the TV proptly showing you a neat woman in a costume with her hair up, clearly a news reporter.

"Why do you want to know who you were before all this?" He hemmed, head inching towards yours as he threw his hand around your shoulder. "Why care? You're not the girl you were. Don't you feel better now? More powerful?"

"I do," you nodded. "It's nice... and strange. But it doesn't mean I'm no longer who I used to be. Don't most people want to be themselves, anyway?"

He clamped his jaw. "I don't want to be myself."

The woman's monotonous voice was trying to slowly lull you into sleep, but the rising heat of Peter's body was making you concerned. He was agitated. Although he didn't speak much, now it felt like he needed to tell you - or anyone at all, perhaps - something that he had been keeping to himself for far too long.

Leaving a gentle kiss on his skin, you asked, "Why?"

He let out a gruff laugh, rubbing his eyebrows furiously as if he wanted to scrub them off his face.

"Because I was a stupid whipping boy. Everyone around used me as a punching bag, and I couldn't do anything," he said, angry, clenching his fists. "What a fucking failure I was."

You kept quiet as he continued, laughing, "Guys beat me at school, and dad beat me at home. And my mom just watched because it was better he beat me than her, y'know?

"And I couldn't do anything. I tried telling some random police officer, but they just filled their papers at the station, talked to my dad, and left. He hit me so hard that day I still have a scar somewhere at the back of my head."

The boy gulped down, staring at the ceiling as you listened to his rapid heartbeat in the darkness of the room lit only by the old TV.

"I could never get rid of them all, so I just settled on being miserable for as long as I'd last, which wasn't even long, by the way. When Teacher found me, I was standing on the city bridge, debating if I was brave enough to jump. I don't think I'd jump, though. I've always been a coward. And if Teacher didn't help me then, I'd still be a coward now, and my dad would continue beating the shit out of me for it.

"You don't know what it felt like to be liberated from all of it. From HIM. From my mother. From those guys at school, though it was Teacher who murdered them. I was so happy... I didn’t know someone could be happy like that. Be free. Do anything I want, take anything I want because I can. I could have any girl I wanted, any car, any house, as much money as I could imagine because I could rip someone's heart from their chest if they refused, and it wouldn't even make me sweat."

He sounded both happy and anxious, covering his face with his arm, dragging it against his sweaty forehead as he laughed, but you could hear a chocked sob somewhere in between, too.

"I don't want to be who I am. Who I was. I want to be this cool, mad guy with many limbs and jaws who scares the shit out of people and never have to be beaten again. And I'd never have you if I was that wimp too, would I?" Finally, he turned his red face back to you, and you saw tears glistening in the corners of his eyes as he tried to hold them in. "You wouldn't even have a second look at me. Girls like you never did. You'd stroll by, laugh at my pimpled face, and continue on your way."

You heard resentment in his voice, the same with which he spoke to you sometimes when you had sex as if he was taking revenge against you, against all pretty women who'd never let him touch them before he became a monster.

His tears dried quickly.

"And that creature you saw me fighting would just chomp me down in a second. It fucking hurt me... but I killed several of them before. And we kill all of them together now. I'd sell my soul three times over to have this, to be who I am now." His gaze suddenly shifted to you when you didn't look, your eyes on his chest. "To take you because I can."

When you raised your eyes to his face, you saw him staring at you intently like a predator before it pounced on you with its claws outstretched, as if he wanted to hurt you for not wanting him, that other small, weak boy he had been who'd never have a chance to have you.

Your hand brushed against his short, dense hair before you ran your fingers through it, looking him into the eyes, not smiling. You couldn't reassure him you'd take him even when he had been small, and hurt, and miserable.

"I don't know what you were like before," you started in a small voice, your palm resting on the side of his face. "I don't know if I'd love you the same I do now. And I'm sorry I wasn't there to kill all these people for you because, I think, I'd really like to if I met you earlier."

You saw him partying his lips as if he wanted to say something, but before he had a chance to, you gave him a small smile and stroked his cheek with your warm hand. "But this world would be poorer without you, and I'd be too."

Some tears finally escaped from his eyes despite his earnest attempt to hold them in, and then Peter shifted and buried his face in the crook of your neck, sobbing.

_______

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