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lordprettyflackotara · 3 months

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hitchhiker || chapter six || the proxies

tw: SMUT MINORS DNI 18+. tw: teehee smut😛 virginity loss, overstimulation

a/n: i am happy to announce hitchhikers is now on Ao3! find the link posted with the hitchhiker masterlist: here

<— previous chapter

Nova felt like she was slipping. Her hands were shaky as she grabbed her coffee mug. The hot liquid swished around in the ceramic cup, threatening to spill onto her hand.

Carefully she took a sip, breathing deeply. She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept more than an hour. She was so close to solving the Winston case, her insomnia would have to wait. Nova considered herself to be a logical person. Thats why she knew the tall man she was seeing wasn’t real. She decided to ignore her delusions and seek therapy once the case was over. After all, an impossibly tall man with no face couldn’t possibly exist.

She noticed him for the first time in her kitchen, the strange being observing her from outside of her window. Nova freaked out, a panic anxiety sending her into a short lived frenzy. Her heart was the only sound she could hear, the organ threatening to fail. She had to rationalize her thoughts. To understand working long hours and living off of coffee and nicotine wasn’t healthy. So she ignored what she deemed to be illusions her mind was creating.

As time went on her symptoms began to worsen, faint static and the paranoia of being watched progressing. Nova ignored them all, satisfaction washing over her as she studied her report. She had invited you to her office to share the good news. The news that made all of her torment and suffering worth it. Nova Parker had solved the homicide of Detective Winston.

Originally you hadn’t thought much into Novas invitation. Toby opted to help you make blueberry muffins, stealing a few for himself of course. It was refreshing, her invitation was. It got you out of your apartment and you got to see your best friend. What more could you ask for? You had only managed to speak to Nova a few times on the phone. You tried not to burden her with the details of your life. You briefly mentioned your suspected break in and how the boys had stayed around for your protection. Nova had enough on her plate. She didn't need your paranoia on there too. The detectives down at the station knew you, your presence unquestioned as you led Toby down the small hallway. “Y-you’re sure she’s n-n-not going to h-have an issue with me being here?” Toby questioned. He knew if he didn’t like Nova, there was no way she liked him.

“You helped make the muffins. You deserve a thank you at least,” You said calmly. Truthfully you brought Toby for your own comfort. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been in public alone. Toby made you comfortable, the brunette excited to be attached to you at the hip. After your kiss with Brian your thoughts had wondered to pure filth. Many which included Toby alone, but even more including Brian, Tim, and Toby all together. You couldn’t deny the throbbing that was beginning to form in your core. You knew you wouldn’t be able to ignore your body’s hunger for much longer.

You knocked on Nova's office door, your exhausted best friend opening the door. Black circles decorated her eyes, her skin dry and hair pulled into a sloppy bun. "Hey Nov," You greeted, instantly greeting her with a hug. Nova hugged you back, her eyes meeting Toby's over your shoulder. "What is he doing here?" She questioned. You pulled away from the hug, lifting up the foil to show Nova the plate of blueberry muffins. "We thought you might be hungry, so we made you something to eat," You told her. Your eyes narrowed at the sight of Nova's visible disapproval. She took the plate from Toby, giving him a fake smile. "Thank you for the muffins. Would you mind waiting in the hallway for a moment?" She asked. Her question sounded more like a command more than a mild suggestion.

Toby stood there unmoved, awaiting your instructions. "It's okay Toby just give us a moment," You say. Toby nodded, heading into the hallway and shutting the door behind him. "You should be nicer to him, he helped me make those muffins for you," You told Nova. She rounded her desk, lifting up the foil and eyeing the food suspiciously. "Did you supervise him when he made these?" She questioned. You couldn't understand her harsh tone. "No? We made them together," You answered. You watched in horror as she tossed the plate in a nearby trashcan. "Hey! What the fuck is your problem?" You gasped. Nova took a seat in her large desk chair, boxes of her belongings still packed in the room around her. She had been given Detective Winston's office and had not made a single effort to make herself comfortable.

"Did you even see my interview on the news?" Nova asked abruptly. You noticed the way her fingers strummed against her desk nervously. "No? Was I supposed to?" You asked. Nova rolled her eyes. "If you cared about my well being or this case at all, yes," She answered blandly. Behind her you noticed an old school chalkboard, one that was covered in scribbles and barely readable cursive handwriting. "Nova I'm not a detective-" You began, Nova raising her hand to stop you. You couldn't understand her odd behavior. "This case is putting a target on my back. I can't take any risk right now. I have to solve this case before it gets me killed," Nova explained.

You glanced at the muffins discarded in the trash can. "So you think someone is going to poison you?" You asked. Nova stood up, pushing her chair aside. "If I told you something that sounded crazy you'd trust me, right?" She asked. She leaned against the desk, your eyes widening. "Because I don't want you to forget. It's us, it has always been us against everyone else," Nova reminded you. You noticed the wrinkles in her uniform and a faint brown coffee stain on the bottom of her button up. "O-okay?" You agreed slowly. Nova took a deep breath, her eyes bewildered as she met your confused gaze. "That night on Halloween was when Winston was killed. Based on your location, when you picked up your hitchhiker loverboys you were only two miles away from Winston's body," Nova started.

You hadn't thought about it in a while, Nova and you sharing locations. You had no reason to. You never snooped on where Nova was and you assumed the same for her. It was supposed to be for emergencies, the two of you living alone. If you didn't include Nova's German Shepard. "What exactly are you getting at?" You asked sharply. Nova sighed, turning around and facing the chalkboard. "Look Y/n I know that things after Cameron weren't easy. And I knew one day you'd find a rebound. Or in this case, a few of them," She said calmly. You slowly rose from your chair, your eyes furrowing. "But you need to listen to me. I think your hitchhikers are behind this," She told you. She finally faced you, the color having drained from your face.

"On what principle? Because they were partying in the woods? We were too if you don't recall," You hissed. You walked up to the chalkboard, examining the scribbles. "Nova you need some sleep. Half of this isn't even legible. You're not making sense," You say calmly. In a swift motion she was on you, her hands roughly grabbing your upper arms. "Wake up! There is three of them. They mysteriously came from the woods with no way of getting home? Near the scene of the crime?!" Nova exclaimed. She shook you violently, your eyes widened in fear. "They cosplayed as hitchhikers I know it. They are only using you to get closer to me. Don't you see?" She asked.

You could feel your heart racing in your chest, your eyes flickering back and forth. You searched her gaze for any sign of humor. For any sign that this wasn't real. Once you realized she was stone cold serious, your gaze hardened. "How fucking dare you!" You screeched. You pushed her off of you, causing her to take a couple of steps backwards. It was then Toby pushed his way back inside of the office, jumping over Nova's desk. He was eerily calm, his sights focused on you. His eyes searched your body for any sign of harm, his slender body standing in between you and Nova.

"For fucking starters. Stop calling them hitchhikers like its a goddamn slur! At the end of the day they're my friends above all else. And even if they were more or if they weren't, it's none of your business!" You bellowed. You were unbelievably pissed, anger washing over you. "You need to listen and Toby needs to-" Nova started, pointing towards the door. Toby stood unmoving, awaiting your command. "Toby isn't going anywhere. You know what Nova? Can you really just not stand to see me happy?" You hissed. Nova gasped, her worn out face hardening. She went to take a step towards you, Toby silently blocking her way.

"Do you not understand? The reason your apartment was broken into was because of this!" Nova snapped. She untucked her button up, revealing a vanilla folder tucked into her waistband. "This is what they were looking for," She said, slamming it onto her desk. She glared up at Toby, who on the inside was fighting the urge to slice her in half. "I'm onto you asshole, I won't stop until you're all in jail or on the other end of my python," Nova snarled. Toby allowed you to push him behind you, your protectiveness flattering him. "That is enough!" You growled. A knock on her office door interrupted the argument, two of Nova's officers watching the scene unfold. "Everything alright in here ladies?" The first one asked, his gaze cautiously flickering to Toby.

"Everything is just fine. We were just leaving," You said firmly. You grabbed Toby's wrist, dragging him towards the door. Nova tried to stop you, her hand managing to reach your shoulder. "Please just wait, listen to me," Nova pleaded. You shoved her arm off, giving her a look so cold it could kill. "I don't recognize you anymore," You spit, watching her face fall. With those words craved in stone, you led Toby back home.

Toby could see you were upset. The entire walk home you were silent, your face revealing that your mind was easily in a frenzy. Even as Toby quietly grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers with his, your gaze remained hardened. Once the two of you entered your apartment, you sat down on the couch in defeat. You were on the verge of tears, tossing your beanie aside. Toby kneeled in front of you, frowning at the sight of tears flooding your waterline. "I-I'm so sorry Toby I never should have brought you. She's gone mad," You whimpered.

Toby nuzzled his way in between your knees, bringing his bandaged hands to your face. "Hey i-it's okay," He said softly. His thumbs lovingly stroked your cheeks, wiping away a salty tear. Your watery eyes met his, placing your hands on top of his. Your touch was nice and warm, Toby's heart began to pound as you leaned in closer to him. He melted into you as you brought your lips to his. Toby tried to copy your motions, his inexperience beginning to show. You didn't seem to care, your lips working against his as his teeth clashed with his. You swiped your tongue on his lower lip, requesting access.

Afraid you'd feel the gash in his cheek, Toby pulled away with wide eyes. You noticed immediately, feeling guilty. "Holy shit I'm so sorry," You gasped, your face turning red. Toby swallowed, gaining the confidence to bring his lips back to yours. You raked your fingers through his chestnut curls, trying to bring him hopelessly closer to you. "C'mere," You whined. Toby joined you on the couch, crawling on top of you as you laid on your back. As soon as you seemed comfortable his desperate lips found your neck, sucking and nipping at the skin. You tilted your head back, whimpering his name. "Fuck," Toby grumbled into your skin. He could feel your hips grinding upwards, his cock growing harder into his jeans.

"H-how far d-do you um-" Toby began to ask, his face flushing pink. You bit the inside of your cheek, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I want you Toby, please," You whispered. Toby grinned down at you, nodding affirmatively. He grabbed the hem of your shirt, helping you toss it over your head. His pupils expanded at the sight of your lacey black bra, your face only growing more red by the minute. His hands were shaky as he reached around you, fiddling with the clasp. "Toby?" You whispered. He finally unclasped the bra, tossing it aside. "Hmm?" He hummed. You looked at him shyly, your nipples hardening from the cold air. "You've never done this before, have you?" You asked softly.

Toby shook his head, trying to focus on your words instead of your breast. "We don't have to," You say, not wanting the brunette to feel pressured in any sort of way. Toby's chocolate orbs met yours, his pupils blown with lust. "I-I want to f-f-fuck you so bad it hurts," He confessed, his confession bordering a plea. He lowered himself to your breast, maintaining eye contact as he took one of your nipples into his mouth. You moaned as he swirled his tongue around the sensitive bud, your back arching at the slightest sensation. You couldn't remember the last time you had done anything like this, nevertheless have sex. Toby grazed his teeth over your nipples, a painful whine escaping your throat. You could feel yourself getting wetter, your body on fire with a craving only Toby could satisfy.

He released your nipple with a pop, his lips turning a darker pink. T-that okay?" He asked. You nodded, licking your dry lips. "Please keep going," You whimpered. Toby could've sucked on your breast all day, but he needed more. He kissed down your stomach slowly, keeping his gaze on your face. He couldn't get enough of your facial expressions, his hands shaky as they undid you jeans. You helped him slide them and your panties downwards, discarding them onto the floor. Toby's experience was very minimal. He had only really jacked off and watched porn. He never thought he'd be in this position, his lips kissing your exposed waist.

Your hand ran through his curls, desperately trying to drag him to your aching cunt. Toby dug in his memory, forcing himself to remember everything in porn that made the girl feel good. He nervously licked up your folds, his name falling off of your lips. Toby couldn't quite explain it, but he liked that. A lot. He opened up your folds, examining your drenched cunt. Unsurely, he attached his lips to your clit, watching in amazement as your back arched off of the couch. "F-fuck Toby!" You whined, yanking at the roots of his hair. Toby couldn't feel pain but he could feel the sensation of you desperately wanting more. He sucked at your clit like his life depended on it, his eyes watching you fall apart on his tongue.

Curiously he released your throbbing clit, bringing his warm tongue to your entrance. Toby studied you as he brought it inside of your entrance, your hips grinding against his face. "T-Toby I need more, please," You stuttered, stumbling over your own words. Toby brought two fingers to your cunt, mimicking what he had seen done before. He shoved them inside of you slowly, his cock growing achingly harder at the feeling of your walls around his fingers. "C-curl them upwards for me, please," You pleaded, biting your bottom lip. Toby happily did as instructed, your moans growing louder. He curiously brought his lips back to your clit, sucking at the bud and curling his fingers.

He relished in your unholy sounds as he repeated the motions, finger fucking you mercilessly. He had no perception of how fast he was going, his gaze focused on you. You were falling apart for him, your fingers keeping his head locked in place as he toyed with your cunt. You felt a familiar cord knot inside of your stomach, your thighs squeezing around Toby's head. If he had to pick a place to die, this would be it. Buried in your cunt being squeezed by your thighs. "Toby, i'm gonna cum," You whined. Toby smirked into your folds, grinding his hips against the couch to give himself a little bit of relief.

Seeing you like this, so hot and bothered, was enough to make him cum in his pants. He continued curling his fingers inside of you, brushing against your g spot. The face you made when you came was so erotic Toby wanted to see it again and again and again. He finger fucked you through your high, adoring the feeling of your walls spasming around his fingers as you came. He continued to abuse your cunt, his fingers relentless. "You c-can take it. Give m-me another one," Toby purred, maintaining eye contact as he placed a teasing kiss to your inner thigh. His lips were glossy with your juices, his lips attaching themselves to your inner thighs. He sucked at the sensitive skin, the sound of your whimpers euphoric.

Your legs began to shake, your back arching off of the couch again. Toby was sure your neighbors could hear you and he truly hoped they did. He began to finger fuck you faster, grinning at the sight of the hickies forming over your stretchmarks on your inner thighs. He brought his other hand to your clit, flicking it back and forth. "That's it-t-t. Cum for me. You c-can do it," Toby cooed. Your second orgasm washed over you in a wave, your thighs trembling. Toby went to dive back in between your folds, your hand stopping him. "If you keep making me cum on your face, you won't be able to fuck me," You giggle nervously.

It clicked in Toby’s mind what you were trying to say, the brunette finally emerging from between your thighs. He tossed his shirt over his head, varieties of scars covering his chest. Your fingertips slowly tracing them. You wanted to ask, Toby knew that. He also knew you wouldn’t. “I’m just c-c-clumsy,” He said, before leaning forward. He placed his lips back against yours, groaning into your mouth as you began to fiddle with his belt. With his help he took off his pants and boxers as well, tossing them onto the floor. He pumped his shaft a few times, before rubbing his tip up and down your drenched folds. You whimpered as his cock brushed against your swollen clit.

Slowly Toby guided himself to your entrance, pushing himself inside of you. He leaned forward, his hand finding yours. You laced your fingers with his, sinful noises escaping your lips as he slid inside of you. Toby was practically vibrating with desire, his body shaking as he bottomed out inside of you. With your spare hand you cupped his face. “You alright?” You whispered. Toby met your gaze, squeezing your hands. “Feels so good,” He whimpered. You gave him a small smile, the brunette beginning to move. Your noises were only more encouragement, Toby’s hips beginning to pick up the pace. His cock began to hit your g spot just right, the brunette growing more confident as you made more lewd noises.

“Y-you’re fucking milking m-me,” Toby whimpered, fucking into you harder. You squeezed his hand as he rammed into you, nuzzling his face into your neck. He sloppily sucked at your skin, trying to litter you in as many marks as possible. You couldn’t stop the noises that came out of your mouth, Toby’s cock abusing your g spot. “T-Toby!” You whined, your thighs beginning to shake. You could feel your final orgasm coming, Toby’s hips merciless. For a virgin he was fucking you so roughly you could hardly believe he was one. You bit your bottom lip as nibbled at your neck.

Toby was a stammering stuttering mess, his groans incoherent babbles of how good you felt. You squeezed his hand as you came for the third time, your thighs trembling at the feeling of your release. You were on cloud nine, your body in a state of euphoria as Toby came inside of you. Once he had come down from a little bit of his high, his eyes widened in fear. “Holy f-f-fuck i’m so sorry I did not mean to cum-” He rambled so quickly you barely understood him. He met your fucked out gaze, a cock drunken smile crossing your lips.

“You’re fine, just buy me a plan b, okay?”

Toby would buy you all of the plan b’s in the world just to cum in you over and over again.

—> next chapter

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jinnie-ret · 6 months

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cigarette duet

poly!stray kids x ninth member!reader

genre: angst, fluff at the end

content warnings: smoking, mentions of rehab, mentions of recovery

word count: 3k

summary: you get hounded by your boyfriends after they catch you smoking. how will they react when you disappear and go off the radar?

requested: @ihrtlix

It has been a while since I've written! I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get around to the requests for this event but I'm getting back into the swing of things! Hope you enjoy! Please don't take offense to any opinions presented in this imagine. Enjoy! And if you want to be tagged in anything I write please lemme know! <3

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Perhaps you had smoked one too many cigarettes last night. Waking up the next morning after battling your stresses with the addictive feed of nicotine, your throat felt dry, hoarse, scratchy even.

"Baby, are you sure you're not sick?" Felix fussed, placing his hand delicately on your forehead to gain an idea of your temperature. "I mean, you don't feel hot, but maybe you're coming down with something?"

"I'm fine, love, just need some water," you kiss his hand that was pulling away from your face, offering a reassuring smile after clearing your throat.

And in your mind, that was enough. You didn't notice the little things that your boyfriends did however.

"Binnie, what are you doing? You look like a perv haha," Hyunjin giggled at the sight of Changbin rummaging through the laundry basket and sniffing your hoodie.

"Ssshhh, keep it down. And plus, it's not being pervy, people in relationships do it all the time. It's comforting smelling each other's clothing," Changbin righteously pointed out to his boyfriend, puffing his chest before adding, "well, normally it is..." he sighed.

"Woah that's mean, you can't say our girlfriend smells," Hyunjin pushed Changbin's shoulder, laughing again but with wide eyes this time round.

"No, no, you've got the wrong idea anyways. I think... I think Y/N's been smoking. I can smell it on her hoodie," Changbin sighed, tossing the white hoodie of yours back into the washing basket that was full to the brim. He was about to continue his spiel of conspiracies until he jumped when your arms wrapped around behind him.

"Aw, babe, are you doing the washing? Thank god for that, I was worried it would never get done," you squeezed him tightly once more before kissing him on the cheek and continuing your venture into the kitchen, Felix trailing behind you.

"I think she's getting sick, I'm gonna see if we have any meds in the cupboard, or some throat sweets at least," Felix pouted as he walked past his two boyfriends, Hyunjin ruffling his hair on the way.

Changbin threw a meaningful look at Hyunjin, alarms going off in his head because it only added more fuel to the blazing fire of thoughts in his head.

"Look, we don't know that she is smoking for sure. Maybe she's just been around some friends that are?" Hyunjin whispers hurriedly, yet this caught Seungmin's attention, and his ears too.

"Huh? What are you talking about?" Seungmin casually stood between the two, grabbing laundry detergent and capsules from the cupboard to act natural yet because practical at the same time.

"I'll explain later, to all of you. I'm just a bit concerned," Changbin sighed, rubbing his hand across his face before actually making a start on the chore at hand.

It was an escape for you, much like it was for other people who smoked cigarettes. And plus, you hadn't been doing it for long. You thought what could the harm be when you didn't do it a lot? Plus, it was handy that none of your boyfriends batted an eyelid in the studio when you said you wanted to go outside for some air. In fact, it gave the opportunity for Changbin to lay out his thoughts to the rest of your boyfriends who hadn't yet heard his observations.

"Y/N... I don't think she'd do that, I can't picture it," Jeongin shook his head, shaking his hands in confusion because the picture being painted in front of them seemed very unlikely and it wasn't a nice one to think of.

"And she knows it's too risky. First of all we're idols. I hate to say it but we have to think about that first in situations like these. Even when we're drinking we've got to be careful. If you're right about this, Binnie, then..." Chan groaned, leaning back into his seat with a huff.

"But she did just go out 'for some air'," Han added on, brows furrowed as he thought what Changbin was saying was quite plausible.

"Ok. We'll go check then," Minho shrugged as he stood.

"What?" Felix too stood up.

"We can't sit here and keep worrying. Let's go check and see for ourselves. If we're wrong... And I hope we are... Then it's fine," Minho grabbed his phone and shoved it into his pocket, scanning around the room for his boyfriends' reactions.

"And if we're not wrong, then what?" Hyunjin voiced his concerns.

"Let's just hope we're not," Chan was first to walk out the door, the rest of Stray Kids following along after him like ducklings and their mother. Apart from this time it wasn't the cute, adorable scene you'd hope for, especially because they could smell the smoke and see your lax figure as soon as they rounded the corner to the back of the building.

"No. Y/N you've got to be kidding me!" Chan snatched the cigarette out of your hand and immediately stomped it out.

"Chan I-" you fumbled on your words, eyes wide as you had all eight of your lovers stood in front of you. And the way they looked at you made you stomach twist into knots you were sure you'd never felt.

Disappointment. Anger. Concern. Indifference.

"Let's talk about this inside," Changbin wrapped an arm around your shoulder as he spoke quietly to you.

Your heart was racing faster. They were going to think the worst. But you had a way out of this. It wasn't even that bad. Sure, over the past month maybe you'd have been spending more money on packs of cigarettes, yet on the inside you felt as if there were worse things you could be doing to yourself.

"Sit," Minho bluntly said, face unreadable, tone void of emotion.

And so you did.

"We'll just have a conversation about this, nice and calm, ok?" Felix nudged Chan in particular with his leg.

It seemed however that it wasn't a conversation, but more of an intervention. A heated one, at that.

"I can't be nice and calm, Lix! Our girlfriend is destroying her body, and for what?" Chan's voice rose ever so slightly, hands squeezing the arms of the chair he was tensely sat in.

"It's just a cigarette," you feebly replied. That backbone of yours was slowly wearing away the more and more anger you felt radiating off of your partners.

"Don't be ridiculous," Seungmin scoffed, "think of the damage it's doing. Think about your career."

"It's more than just the odd cigarette, right?" Changbin prodded, wanting answers to the millions of questions he had. After all, he was the first one to notice how you gradually stopped voicing your concerns to him but still sometimes had the habits that showed your anxiety.

"Well, yes, but-" you began but were cut off.

"No buts. That's... It's, you're hurting yourself, hurting your lungs. Why are you doing this, baby?" Jeongin took your hand in his, concern not the only thing glistening in his eyes, which broke your heart.

"It's just a nice distraction, that's all. It won't go on forever, I'll just stop when I want to," you shrug your shoulders, squeezing his hand to show you meant what you said.

"It's not that easy. Nicotine. It's addictive. You think you can just stop like that?" Hyunjin frowned, shaking his head.

"I know I can," you firmly said, urging them with your voice to trust you.

"I don't know what planet you're living on," Chan shook his head.

"Channie..." Felix bit his lip, feeling torn. On one hand he didn't want your boyfriend to be so tough with you, but he also disagreed with the choices you made, the ones you were making.

"No I'm sorry but Y/N, babe, you've made one of the stupidest choices you could make! Seungminnie is right, Jeongin too. It's damaging for your body, let alone your career. You keep this up, you're not going to be able to sing as well as before. And then it'll get to the point where you can't breathe as well anymore," Chan ranted, fiddling with the bracelets adorning his wrist as he didn't take his eyes away from yours, not once.

"I just told you it's not going to go that far!" your face contorted to one of disbelief.

"That's out of your control," Minho sternly redirected your attention to him.

"Wow. It's like you don't even trust me. I'm not some kid. I can make my own decisions. So what if I'm doing this for a little bit of stress relief? For a bit of fun. It helps me," your voice almost turns to pleading, wanting them to hear you out, hear your reasoning.

"It hurts you, baby. And when it hurts you, it hurts us as well," Han bit his lip after shakily speaking up. He didn't like this situation, not one bit.

"I'm not doing it to hurt you. I'd never do that," your voice wobbled, throat feeling as if it was closing up from the sob that was lodged down there.

"Too late. I mean just look," Chan emptied your handbag, empty packets of cigarettes and some not, falling out onto the floor of the studio.

"Y/N, that's a lot," Hyunjin gasped, clutching a hand on his chest.

"It's not. It's not that bad..." you denied as you knelt on the floor and tidied up the mess.

"You're in complete denial," Seungmin rolled his eyes.

"I'm not! I'm well aware of my actions thank you very much!" you shouted suddenly, causing everyone to freeze at the volume you had just reached.

The guilt set in. It was never meant to go this far. It was just meant to be for stress relief. Something to distract you from the aches and pains, physical and mental. It wasn't long until you'd be performing a special fanmeeting and relearning old choreographies and a cover had you feeling like you were being worked down to the bone. Even iconic dances like God's Menu were hard to remember, and you felt like you had no chance. No choice. It was like it fell into your lap so easily.

The first time you had stood outside to catch some air, it was for that genuine reason. And you weren't alone. You didn't know if the person worked at your company, if you knew them, whatever. But their hand offering you something that could bring you temporary bliss was a solution you were grateful for. Only now, you were seeing that it was short term.

"You need help. Seriously..." Chan spat, grabbing his backpack and storming out of the studio.

"Find a way to end this, Y/Nnie," Felix mumbled, stroking your hair gently before following Chan out with a rush.

"You're all just going to go?" your voice cracked. Were they leaving you now?

"We just need some time," Changbin sighed. And then he was gone too.

"You're leaving me?" you sniffled, standing up to face your boyfriends that were still in the room.

"Not like that, baby. We're just giving you time to think about how you can stop this, ok?" Han stroked your face as he made sure you knew this wasn't the end. And then he left too, Minho, Hyunjin, Seungmin and Jeongin leaving too.

All alone. Perhaps it was what you deserved. You relied on the cigarettes more than your boyfriends. And they were all you had left for the moment. That was when it sank in. You had to make a change. You had to stop this habit form taking over your life, from pushing away the people you love most, and from taking your life away.

•••

"She's sorting herself out at least... that's got to be commendable."

"I guess so. Let's just hope it doesn't get out that a JYP idol is at rehab for smoking."

"It won't. And she's doing well from what I've heard..."

This was the only time Han was grateful for the staff gossiping. Immediately, he felt calmer. Considering the boys had spent the last few days blowing up your phone and worrying where you went, it was an oddly relieving feeling hearing you were at rehab. They had tried asking JYP himself, asking the manager of the company where you were but all they said was that you were safe.

"I know where she is!" Han bursted through the apartment door, slamming it shut behind him as he panted out of breath.

"Woah, woah, ok, deep breaths, let's sit down," Chan, with the darkest circles around his eyes yet, gently sat Han down on the sofa. He felt awful. He thought he had driven you away from them all. From the group. From the relationship. And that had been eating him up inside. It was a wonder he could act so calm with the news of you going into rehab.

"Rehab? For smoking? I didn't even know that was a thing," Seungmin hummed in thought, his arms crossed.

"I didn't either, but I overheard the staff. They say she's doing well. It's a good thing, right?" Han's eyes stared through the souls of everyone gathered in the lounge, begging for some sort of confirmation that things would get better.

"I mean, at least we're a bit more in the know then our own fans about why our girlfriend is on hiatus," Changbin brushed his fluffy, dark hair out of his eye.

"Can't we go and see her?" Felix wondered, lifting his head up from where it rested on Minho's shoulder.

"We shouldn't," Minho quietly sighed.

"Why not?" Jeongin quickly turned to him, mouth parted in shock that he didn't want to see Y/N.

"No, he's right. She's gone there for a reason. To get better. It's what we all said to her, isn't it? We'll see her soon. And when we do... It'll all be better," Chan helped everyone see sense. He was right. You had listened to them. You went and got help and were solving the problem. If they suddenly ambushed you and got in the way of that... You'd be back to square one.

•••

Today was the day, you were finally going back to the boys. You spent a good 3 weeks at rehab, and had been advised on some good coping mechanisms to take your mind off of smoking and how to create some healthier habits. You had shown good progress and it was deemed acceptable for you to leave and spend time back with your loved ones. And you couldn't lie, you were incredibly nervous. You had dropped a text without reading the spam that littered the groupchat, notifying your boyfriends what time you'd be returning, but after that you once again did not read anything else that was sent.

"Oh my baby, I've missed you so much," Han was the first one at the door, pressing kisses all over your face as he took you into his arms, holding you lightly.

"I've missed you too," you cried immediately, despite the weight off your shoulders.

"You're good now, right, darling?" Seungmin softly tugged you away from Han, both of his hands cupping your face whilst his thumbs wiped away your tears.

"I'm better," you nod through tears, Seungmin pressing a kiss to your head and giving space for your other boyfriends to soothe you and reunite with you. It had only been three weeks, yes, but 21 days had never felt so long.

"I'm proud of you, come here," Changbin scooped you into his arms and lifted you slightly, making you giggle before your feet touched the ground once more.

"Thank you... I'm sorry. I didn't realise what I had done... How far it went, you know?" you began, looking down at the floor as Hyunjin came and wrapped his arms around you from behind, his long arms securing you to him.

"We're just happy to see you here, honey, healthier," he whispered into your ear soothingly.

"And please talk to us in future. We had time to think after that, moment, and we know you were doing it as an escape. But we're here for you," Jeongin pecked you on the lips, your heads pressed against each other for a moment before he too moved away.

"Always, we're always here," Felix reiterated what Jeongin preached, and kisses you as well, noses rubbing against each other as he moved away, a cute expression on his face.

"Come here," Minho opened his arms, and you reluctantly left Hyunjin's arms only to be happy again in the warmth of your other boyfriend's embrace.

"Thank you for waiting, all of you," you swayed with him in his hug, until you pulled away and it was only Chan left.

He stood a few metres away, back to you, shoulders shaking ever so slightly.

"Channie... babe," you sighed, tugging his hand to turn him and face you. His words had hurt you the most but it was also a huge wake up call. "Please, look at me, I'm not mad. I'm so grateful."

"I was too harsh with you," he bit his lip, hard, not wanting to let any tears escape.

"I needed it. Look at me now, I'm here, I'm better, and I've got habits I can stick to instead. Ones that won't hurt me. And they won't hurt you guys either," you looked up at him, one hand running through the hair at the nape of his neck and the other cupping his face.

"I'm so glad you're back... We were worried... Lost without you," Chan admitted, staring up at the ceiling before kissing you deeply, expressing all the emotions he had held back whilst you were gone.

"It's all good now. Plus, you should all be proud of me-"

"We are proud of you, baby," Jeongin cut you off stroking your hair.

"Well, be even prouder because I know how to bake an amazing carrot cake if I say so myself," you laughed, sharing a new skill that had occupied your stress and been taught whilst you were away.

"You can bake with me now! Oh my gosh! It's a miracle!" Felix cheered, tugging you into the kitchen as the other boys chuckled from behind you both.

"I didn't think you meant this very second!"

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng @kpopmenace143 @sakufilms @kailee08 @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @cheesemonky @his-angell @turtledove824 @2minstan @royal-shinigami @yangbbokari @skzoologist @crabrangoongirl25 @atinyniki @writingforstraykids @minholing @lilmisssona @astraysimp @lixie-phoria

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h-harleybaby · 2 years

Note

this might be slightly boring but i saw it on another blog and it’s been plaguing my mind ever since

making out hcs w with Butters, Kyle and Kenny pls? 🥺 it does something feral to me man idk

Making out hcs with Butters, Kyle, and Kenny

Butters

• Butters kisses are usually really soft and gentle, y'all don't often make out because he gets too embarrassed

• He's pretty nervous but that's probably just because you're the first girl he's ever made out with and he wants to get it right for you

• He loves making out with you tho, whenever y'all do he swears sparks fly

• Turns out it just wasn't a good idea to make out in abandon building with bad wiring because sparks actually DID fly. Technically he was right tho

• He doesn't often take the lead with making out, he prefers to leave it up to you

• Butters is probably the type to accidentally moan in the kiss and feel really embarrassed about it and hope to god you didn't hear it

• You did. But you also really liked it and you encouraged him to do it more often/not hold back. He practically melted when you said that-

• He really likes it when you bite his lip while you're making out but he'll never admit that, he's scared you would think it's weird

• He's really physical, he just needs to have his hands on you. So often times he'll cup your cheeks or have his hands slightly under your shirt (only to hold your hips, he wouldn't dare go any farther without your permission)

• He also really likes it when tug on his hair a lil while y'all make out, he can't explain it for the life of him it just feels really good

Kyle

• Making out with Kyle is really sweet, I swear! He's just really awkward about it

• But it's honestly really cute <33

• He gets so scared because he's thinking "What if I kiss weirdly?? What if they don't like my kisses?? WHERE DO I PUT MY HANDS-"

• Ya know, that kinda stuff. You probably have to guide his hands to your waist or something so he'll stop mentally freaking out and sweating

• Hear me out, Kyle probably gets so nervous that his hands start shaking, and when you put his hands on your waist his finger literally will not stop tapping you. It's a nervous habit he has, like tapping your fingers on a desk

• Once he gets in the hang of it and stops freaking out he probably thinks he died and went to heaven. You gotta be an angel, right?!

• He's probably the type to smile into a kiss and whenever y'all separate he looks at you with heart eyes

• Although at first, kissing made him really nervous once he gets used to it, it probably calms him down and makes him act like a complete simp

• The world around him disappears because now all he can think of is you and your kisses

• He just can't get enough of you <3333

Kenny

• Kenny's really passionate when making out, and tbh he's always trying to make out with you

• He can't keep his hands to himself either, so they're gonna be everywhere

• He's also the kind of person who smirks into a kiss and literally grabs your waist to pull you in closer

• He loves when you have your hands in his hair when y'all make out, it just makes him more eager

• Y'all are probably a little light headed at the end of at least one kiss because he doesn't wanna let go

• Most of the time kisses between y'all end in making out, no matter where you are, even if it's just a lil peck

• Can you really blame him for wanting more?

• Hear me out on this, Kenny probably smokes and he accidentally got you addicted to his kisses because of the nicotine in the cigarettes he smokes

• Kenny feels really bad about it and he tries to quit smoking

• But he isn't complaining too much, it also means more making out for him

#south park x reader #h harleybaby needs help #south park x reader headcanons #butters x reader #butters stotch x y/n #butters stotch x reader #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle x reader #Kyle broflovski x y/n #kenny mccormick x reader #kenny x reader #Kenny McCormick x y/n #Harley’s anons <33 #harley’s requests!

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stargirllanaa · 7 months

Text

୨⎯ “I don’t smoke”- R.C

❥ Masterlist

Warnings: Dark!Rafe, Toxic relationship, Abusive relationship, Domestic violence, heavy drinking, violence, mentions of drugs, mentions past d/v, Rafe’s a narcissist, emotional abuse

Summary: based on ‘I don’t smoke’ by Mitski (you don’t have to listen to understand but I still recommend. You drink to much and everything goes so wrong.

A/n ✎: surpriseeee, I was taking a break but got randomly motivated lol, thank you for 300 followers!!! Ily all sm! My inbox is open btw, also pls reblog and comment if you enojoyed!! Also I recommend listening to the song while reading!! Tyy

Wc: 2.8k

18+ minors dni!!!

As you took a long drag of your cigarette, you thought about your night, how you ended up on the balcony of the Cameron house with a tear-stained face and a cigarette in hand.

You never smoked except for after you and your boyfriend got into it; nicotine’s supposed to relieve stress and calm the nerves, right? I mean, you weren't addicted, just a stress relief.

It made you laugh how almost every fight with your boyfriend was so stupid, usually a misunderstanding or him taking out his anger for something that had nothing to do with you.

You questioned why you always stayed with him; how could you be so in love with someone who mistreated you?

You laughed to yourself, taking another drag of your cig before inhaling, the warm breeze making contact with your slightly damp face, reminding you of why you were even out here; the sad realization brought fresh tears to your eyes, and before you knew it you were bawling again, sitting on the ground, knees brought to your chest, sobbing into your lap.

˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧ Earlier that night୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡

You and Rafe had ended up at a random party, some kook that Rafe knew from high school. Believe it or not, you enjoyed going to parties with Rafe. There was always an excuse to get as drunk and high as possible, and if you were faded enough, your thoughts would stop, and you finally felt at peace. It was honestly sad, but being in a relationship with Rafe, it was so hard to feel ok… to feel normal.

You guys had been at the party for about an hour, and you were already crossed, taking every drink offered to you in a heartbeat and even smoking with your boyfriend and his friends, but you could still feel, and you didn't like that, so you stumbled over to the drinks table, praying that there was at least enough left for a shot. Your vision was already spinning, and you were practically tripping over yourself, but you just wanted the pain in your heart to stop; that's it.

After what felt like a lifetime pushing through people and saying, ‘Excuse me,’ you finally made it. You reached for a bottle but didn't even read what it was; you were just desperate for anything. Your gut told you to stop drinking; you were nauseous, dizzy, felt heavy, and could barely walk straight, but your heart told you to keep going, so you did.

You poured yourself a shot, shaky, uncoordinated hands spilling a good amount on your fingers and the table. You drank the alcohol, tossing your head back as the bitter liquid made contact with your tongue before slightly burning the back of your throat. Your face scrunched up, looking around for a chaser but unable to find one.

As you stumbled around looking for your boyfriend, you bumped into at least five people, even causing one girl to spill her drink on herself; everything felt like it was going so fast yet so slow, and the world was spinning; you hated, but you loved this feeling, you were numb to your problems but also felt sick.

When you made eye contact with your boyfriend, he was sitting on the couch; you could barely make out the color of the sofa or who else was even on it; that's how fucked up you were.

You sat down next to him before even realizing what you were doing. You practically fell into him; before you knew it, you were lying on his shoulder and falling asleep.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆

“Y/n!” you heard your boyfriend's voice echoing through your head before even opening your eyes; you kept them closed. You were still tired and wanted at least five more minutes of sleep.

“She's knocked out, man.” you heard another man who wasn't your boyfriend say, most likely one of his friends.

“Y/n!” Rafe shouted, now shaking you awake.

You were genuinely confused when you opened your eyes—three blurry figures standing before you. When your vision evened out, you saw Your boyfriend was staring at you with his fist clenched to the side, clearly angry, as his two friends stood beside him, but you were laying on Rafe, at least you thought you were, but when you lifted your head and looked to your side to see who you were laying on, it was some random guy.

You immediately jumped, scooting yourself away from the random blonde. You had never seen this man before, and when you layed next to him, you could have sworn he was your boyfriend.

You quickly stood up, still tired and still drunk. Your heart was beating rapidly, and the look on Rafe's face didn't help; he was arguing with the man you had been lying on; you heard the name ‘Evan’ slip from his mouth.

"What's your problem, man?" Evan questioned, his tone challenging; he kept his spot on the couch as you hid behind your boyfriend and his friends, still able to get a clear view of the altercation.

“I've seen the way you've looked at her before.” Your boyfriend drunkenly spat, referring to you; he talked with his hands aggressively. That was a bad sign, and it worried you; you just wanted to explain to him this was all an accident, a drunken mistake.

“Listen, man; Your girl was all over me.”

Evan replied, words laced with venom as he stood up from his spot on the couch.”Maybe control your bitch next time-”

Without another word, Rafe lunged forward, his fist connecting with Evan's jaw.

The force of the blow sent Evan stumbling backward, crashing into a nearby table, sending drinks flying in all directions, causing everybody around to stop and look.

Evan recovered quickly, launching himself at Rafe.

The two boys wrestled with each other; trading blows amidst the chaos of the party; a crowd formed around them as phones were being taken out to record.

You were horrified, wide eyes watching as Rafe pushed the other blonde to the floor before punching him repeatedly. You knew this was your fault, and you felt horrible. How could you have made such a big mistake?

Your tears spilled, and your hand covered your mouth as you watched Rafe's friend's topper and Kelce pull him away from the kook on the floor, finally separating them. Rafe looked so angry. He was breathing heavily, his knuckles bruised and bleeding, but when you looked at the bloody blonde on the floor, you gasped. You regretted even looking at him; blood covered his face as he rolled over slightly, coughing more blood up; you even heard someone mutter, “Call 911.”

When Rafe's friends finally let go of him, he didn't go back for more; he honestly seemed satisfied, and when he grabbed your wrist roughly, pulling you away from the now-dead party and to his truck, clearly trying to avoid the police you were honestly shocked, You had never witnessed rafe hurt someone that bad, I mean he was going crazy, you couldn’t get the image of Evans blood covered face out of your head. And the more you thought about it, the more grateful you were that Rafe had never caused that much harm to you. I mean, sometimes he would slap, chock, or grab you, but he had just shown you how much he was genuinely holding back.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆

You had finally arrived at Tanneyhill after what felt like hours of complete silence as Rafe dropped his friends off. He refused to talk to you, ignoring you as you tried to explain to him that it was an accident and that you were just really fucked up. You were still drunk, not as drunk as you were when you originally made the mistake, but drunk enough to keep trying to talk to Rafe.

The thing was that you would rather argue with Rafe than be ignored; you hated when he punished you with the silent treatment; it made you want to curl up into a ball and cry, and you also didn't know how long he would keep this going, sometimes it was days, sometimes it was hours, you would much rather him just hit you and get it over with.

“Why would you even bring me here if you're going to ignore me?” You questioned Rafe, voices pleading for a response as you found your place on his bed.

He didn't even look up at you; instead, he rolled his eyes as he focused on his phone, scrolling through whatever social media app he was on.

“Are you fucking serious?” You recklessly said as tears started to brim your eyes; his breathing halted for a moment at that. “I said it was an accident! What the fuck do you want me to do?” You choked out, throwing your hands up.

Rafe continued to ignore you, slightly laughing at something on his phone; he wanted you to feel as guilty as possible, and he knew making you sit in silence and think about what you did would be the best way to achieve that, so he had to be strong. He wanted so badly to respond and put you in your place, but he also knew you would prefer that to this.

“Rafe!” you shouted, wanting so desperately to be heard, but you got no response, not even a look in your direction.

“RAFE!” You repeated even louder this time, but still, he kept eye contact with his phone and ignored you; it made you so angry and sad, so many emotions you didn't want to feel. This was the fucking worst.

“I fucking can't.” You cried, tears blurring your vision as you left Rafe's room, slamming the door behind you as you made your way to the balcony. You grabbed your chest, trying to slow your fast and deep breathing, but you couldn't. Rafe was treating you like shit, and it was so frustrating.

The blonde didn't stop you from leaving his room; he knew your little routine and that you would return to his bed in at least ten minutes.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆

The following day, you woke up to muffled yelling from outside Rafe's bedroom door; you didn't even remember falling asleep or returning to his room last night; your last memory was bawling on the balcony as the smell of your cigarette filled your nose.

You sat up in bed, rubbing your eyes, noticing the pounding sensation throughout your head. You drank way too much last night, you thought to yourself before being brought back to reality by the muffled voices behind the door. Their voices were tense, filled with bitterness, and you couldn't help but feel a twitch of worry knotting in your stomach.

You glanced around the room, searching for clues or signs of what might have sparked the disagreement, but it was nothing new for Rafe to get into it with literally anyone.

The morning light filtered in through the curtains, casting a soft glow over your familiar surroundings, but your attention remained fixed on the heated exchange just beyond the door. But before you could even form another thought, Rafe's bedroom door swung open and slammed closed behind him as he breathed in and out fast and placed his hands on his head.

You exited his bed, swinging your feet out from under his blankets before standing up and walking over to him. You just wanted to comfort him and try to make him feel better. Even though you and Rafe didn't necessarily get along all the time, he's still your boyfriend, and you didn't enjoy seeing someone you love so upset.

“Rafe.” you calmly mumbled, touching his back. “Calm down,” you said, rubbing it. You could tell he was still distraught by how he was breathing.

His breath was rapid, his jaw clenched, and his first balled to his side.

“Take some deep breaths.” you calmly mutter, still trying to calm him down, but you knew you had triggered something in him when you saw the way he turned to you, eyes narrowed and dark; you didn't understand why what you said upset him, but you knew that all his anger would now be directed towards you.

“Calm down?” Rafe repeated, tone harsh and aggressive. “Deep breaths?” he hissed, taking a step closer to you as you took one back.

“Do you hear yourself?” The kook tapped on his temples as he stared you down, jaw clenched as he leaned on his dresser.

“You sound just like Sarah.” he tisked as he crossed his arms.

You didn't know what to say, but at this point, you were on the other side of the room; you knew you were playing a dangerous game, even being in the same room as Rafe when he got like this.

“Well, what do you want me to do, Rafe? I-” You looked down before being cut off by the sound of glass hitting the floor after your boyfriend knocked over serval objects that were sitting on top of his dresser in one clean sweep.

You flinched, closing your eyes as the abrupt noise of objects breaking filled your ears. You were grateful he took his anger out on his random trinkets rather than you, but you couldn’t stop your breath from speeding up as you held your chest, trying to lower your anxiety.

“I want you to be fucking quiet for once.” Rafe fumed angrily, now stalking towards you. “I want you to stop getting shitfaced just to embarrass me.” he spat, referring to last night.

As he stalked towards you, you made a run for it, successfully reaching the other side of the room, but this pissed him off even more you could see the way his jaw clenched even from where you were standing.

“Yeah, because the whole world revolves around Rafe!” you sarcastically nodded with a fake smile. He was fucking delusional if he thought you would purposely get drunk just to fall asleep on another man and embarrass him.

He rolled his eyes in response, jaw ticking again.

“I'm at least happy you got your anger out on someone other than me last ni-” Your words were cut off by empty glass being thrown directly at your face; luckily, you dodged it, falling to the floor and covering your head immediately.

Thankfully, the glass was thick enough that it didn’t break. What the fuck. If that would have hit your face, Rafe could have fucking killed you. You didn't know how you went from trying to comfort your boyfriend to almost being killed by him so fast. He was so unpredictable it was scary, and since you were so lost in thought, you didn't realize he was now right in front of you.

“You know why I hurt you, don't you?” Rafe questioned, voice now calm… scarily calm as he kneeled in front of you, brushing a hand over your hair.

You didn't respond; you were shaking and now crying. You were too terrified to even look up at him, too scared of what was coming next.

“Look at me.” Rafe sneered before tightening his once soft grip on your hair and using it to pull your head back and make eye contact.

You groaned at the feeling, more tears falling from your face as the pain intensified every second. You regretted even trying to make him feel better in the first place. Fuck, you regretted even meeting him.

“You know why I hurt you, don't you?” Rafe questioned again. This time, his voice was harsher, and his eyes grew darker the longer you didn't respond, but you didn't care you weren't answering that stupid fucking question; Rafe had no excuse to hurt you no matter what you did, and you weren't about to validate his reasoning.

“This is exactly why.” Rafe scolded, grabbing more hair as his grip tightened further. You screamed out in pain, but he quickly covered your mouth with his other hand as he continued. “You’re disrespectful.” he critiqued as he spoke through his teeth.

You were sobbing into his hand, tears soaking his fingers as he looked down at you with a storm brewing in his eyes. Rafe wanted to hurt you; Your boyfriend wanted you to feel exactly how he did when he entered his room in the first place.

“You’re kinda pathetic, you know.” Rafe looked you up and down, grip still tight on your hair.

“You're already crying, and I barely even touched you yet.”

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Enjoyed my fic? Leave feedback! Comment/reblog!

Wanna see more? Check out my fic ‘bad liar’

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youryanderedaddy · 9 months

Text

tw: female reader, captivity, possessive behavior, non - consensual touching, hinted past stalking, hinted non - con, i keep making fairy tale references kfjhks My ko - fi <3

You actually feel calm now, almost at peace - although you can never be truly peaceful in the forest, you guess this is as close as it can get. You flip through the pages of the book, scanning the fireplace with the corner of your eye. It needs more wood, but it still keeps the cottage nice and warm. You tug at your big fluffy sweater - and think about just how domestic, how cozy this scene would be if you couldn't hear his footsteps creeping up behind you. You clear your throat and clutch the book closer to your stomach, trying to ignore him - hoping he'll go away if you pay him no mind. And just like the last few times, he sticks around like mud.

"Are you reading those fairytales again?" Raven calls out mockingly, the click of his tongue teasing your ear. He grasps your shoulders lightly, trying to take a peek at your book from behind the chair. You try to close it, but his hands quickly find your wrists, holding them in place. Now hyper - aware of his chest pressing against your back, you give in and let him look as his body heat spreads to your neck. "Such a pretty illustration, isn't it?" He hums to himself, a fox - like grin ruining his delicate features. When you don't respond, he just keeps going. "The knight kills the monster and rescues the princess." He reads the caption under the drawing, playing curious. "They live happily ever after." He flips the page. "The end." He mouths, averting his gaze.

You clench your fists and try to count to ten before you say something you will regret. You don't know why or how, but just one look at his face is enough to set you off nowadays. And anger is a losing battle - anger has you laying across his knees with your panties in your mouth, muffling your pained cries he likes to pretend are moans as he paints your butt red. So you shut up and bide your time.

"How sweet." The man chuckles with malice, quickly turning towards you just like a snake would curl around an unsuspecting little mouse. "I guess life really imitates art. Just like you and me." He observes with a self-satisfied smirk, reaching to light his cigarette. You hate when he smokes inside the house - the nicotine fume sticks to the walls for hours and you start choking and coughing, but he shows little concern for your heath; not that it's a huge surpirse to you.

"What do you mean?" You raise one eyebrow, hoping to at least take your mind off the nasty, overwhelming smell. If he sees your unease, he doesn't mention it, choosing to inhale even deeper, with his full chest. "You're the pretty damsel in distress." Raven explains calmly, charcoal eyes sinking into your vision like claws. It makes you feel naked, vulnerable - dissected to your very molecule. "And I am your knight." He lets his sharp teeth reflect in the dim light. "I saved you from those pesky insects who kept sulling you." You cringe at the way his tongue piercing drags against his canines. Track - track. "Aren't you glad I removed those obstactles for ya?" He gives you a crooked, sarcastic smile. "I think your hero deserves a little reward for all the trouble he went through just for you."

You blink away the tears as you are forced to remember it all in one breath. The police sirens - the investigation. The blood on your family's threshold. The used condoms hanging on your door for all neighbours to see, and the thousand messages calling you ugly names for months on end.

"You're no hero." You mumble under your breath, digging your nails deep into your palms - desperate to keep your tongue behind your teeth. But he hears you - he always does, and he just nods in agreement, coming close. Coming to take you.

Raven stands before you, hovering over you with one hand on the ashtray and the other tilting your chin up so you'd have no choice but to look at him and him alone. "Perhaps you're right." He admits, taking a puff off his long cigarette and blowing it in your face right after - simply in love with the way your eyes narrow in frustrated defiance as you wave away the thick smoke. "Perhaps I am not the hero, but the monster. The dragon." He laughs to himself, stubbing out the burning fag. You don't know what it is that he finds so funny, but you wish you knew so you could laugh along instead of crying.

He cages you in against the sofa, causing you to press even harder against the soft backrest. The message is clear - you'd let the house consume you before you let him as much as kiss you.

"It fits the story nicely, don't you think?" The man remarks, playing with a strand of your hair gleefuly just like a child would. You assume he derives some sick pleasure from touching you so casually - from caressing you, petting you, holding you. It's not even sexual, but it always shakes you to your core, and maybe for him that's the best part - where you can't go anywhere, but in his arms.

"Huh?" You break from your thoughts, growing confused. "Your analogy." He explains while still all over you. "It makes sense. I fought for you, and I won you fair and square." His eyes light up with the ferocity of a hunter. "I wanted you so I took you like the greedy bastard I am. I have no regrets - and if that makes me a villain, then so be it. I will burn the world down if it means you'd be all mine." His fist wraps around your loose locks, almost gentle, but not quite. There is something unnatural in his smile - you can't help, but imagine blood dripping from his chin. "But there is something your magic tales get wrong." Raven whispers diabolically, snapping his fingers. Everything goes dark - and his coat slips down on the floor.

"W-what?" You ask, shaking like a leaf - both afraid and deadly curious. You try to sharpen your senses, but you remain blind to his shadow - and the way it moves right between your legs, positioning them around his hips. You feel his manhood prod at your pubic bone, and you heart sinks to your stomach. "The ending." Your captor mutters, pushing you on your back, and you curse the electronic chair when it goes all the way down with little fight. "The moment when the cards are on the table..." He all but tears off the first button of your shirt. "And the princess is all alone with the monster. Face to face - with nowhere to go."

His tongue is hot on your neck - you try to push him off, but he pins down your wrists with feral force, growling like a wild beast. "And this time no one is coming to save her."

#yandere #male yandere #yancore #yandere smut #male yandere x reader #yandere oneshot #yandere male x reader #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader

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kitchenisking · 5 months

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May Fic Rec

Nicotine by honorarystar - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 3,404, sterek)

Stiles wants to take a nap at Derek's place. Derek thinks he smells too amazing for his own good. Or Derek's for that matter.

UST (An Unfortunate Series of Tropes) by ureshiiichigo - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 54,259, sterek)

Stiles and Derek sitting in a tree, M-A-R-R-I-E-D.

Wait, what?

Or: Stiles thought he and Derek were finally getting to be bros, and then Deaton had to go and ruin everything with his stupid spell.

For the hour of great humiliation by Naicele - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 8,278, sterek)

There are witches, but maybe they are mostly a plot device to get Stiles and Derek to spend time in very close proximity. -- “Stop that,” Derek growls. “Stop what?” he whines, because, this situation is worthy of some complaining on his part “Stop smelling like that,” Derek hisses, breath hot on Stiles’s ear. “How do I stop smelling? Dude that’s insane,” he whispers back. “What do I even smell like,” he adds and then immediately regrets it. Surely Derek can’t smell that on him, can he?

Point me where my life begins by Gotta_seduce_the_Rainbow - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 39,430, sterek)

When Derek wakes up without his memory, he is left with nothing but a note he wrote himself. He no longer remembers anything personal, not himself, not anyone else.

The note is pointing him towards the town Beacon Hills and once he is there, he is greeted by strangers telling him “Dude, I didn’t know you’re back in town”, which is confusing. Apparently, he grew up in Beacon Hills, but left a few years ago without telling anyone about it.

There is this one stranger, who calls him dude and has the most amazing scent. Derek might just want to start his new life here. With this person.

let’s make a reckless memory by EvanesDust - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 4,283, sterek)

[excerpt] "Stiles…" Derek groaned, his head dropping between Stiles's shoulder blades as he thrust his cock against Stiles's hole. "God, please tell me you know that I love you."

Stiles clenched in response, desperately wanting to be filled, and nodded. They'd only been dating for a week when Derek first told him. It was New Year's, and they'd just kissed at midnight. "Y-Yeah, I know. I know you love me. I love you, too."

And he did. So fucking much.

"Good. Because I'm going to fuck you like I don't."

…or the one where Stiles surprises Derek by coming home for spring break, and they fuck in the sheriff’s station.

Can't Start a Fire Without a Spark by Nerdy_fangirl_57 - (Rating: T, Words: 8,945, sterek)

After the whole ordeal with the nogitsune Stiles struggles with proving to himself that he can be good again. He starts learning to control his spark in hopes that he could be helpful to the pack once he manages to channel it's power. Everyone thinks it's a great idea and are willing to help him anyway they can, but Scott, Scott doesn't see the point in it.

It's not like Stiles' tiny spark could ever be powerful enough to be an actual asset to the pack.

Stiles just wants a chance to prove himself.

Million Reasons by FireAndIceHeart - (Rating: T, Words: 20,474, sterek)

After a nasty fight between Derek Hale's Pack and three witch sisters, Derek kicks Stiles out of the pack. His friends abandoned him and his father is always at work and Stiles has never felt so alone. Well at least now he has the time to think of all the reasons why he deserves to be in the pack and figure out where it all went wrong. That is...until he gets kidnapped.

I'm Only Human by DarkAlpha67 - (Rating: T, Words: 3,477, sterek)

Stiles has always placed other’s needs above his own… And no one ever took the time to notice the strain that burden had on him.

Until him…

In which Stiles neglects to take care of himself and ends up in the hospital where he will learn a werewolf pack is just another word for Family.

Hale's Theory of Exclusivity by kitsunequeen - (Rating: T, Words: 4,098, sterek)

For the request: "Stiles visits a wolf rescue/sanctuary type thing (like the one TW donated to!!) and gets really friendly with the pack alpha and then he comes back and Derek is all angsty because /another alpha's scent is all over Stiles/." --- “You’re the one,” he huffs, “you’re the one who was always trying to assure me that my past relationships were unhealthy. That I deserved something better. And this? This is your idea of healthy?”

“Are you seriously throwing that in my face?” Stiles demands, tears suddenly pricking at his eyes. He wipes them away roughly, jamming his hand in his pocket. “That’s- that’s pretty shitty, dude.”

“Are you kidding me?” Derek seethes. How is this happening? How on Earth is this spiraling so badly? “I’m throwing it in your face? You go around pretending we’re exclusive, and I’m the one acting shitty?”

“You know what?” Stiles snaps, tears streaming freely now. The room is swirling with the scents of hurt and confusion and anger and betrayal and- “Fuck you, Derek.”

Happy Son Happy Spouse Happy House by alikatastic - (Rating: Not Rated, Words: 3,085, sterek)

Eli was so much like him, a stark reminder of who he was at sixteen. It was a grand statement of nature vs. nurture. Eli Hale might not have shared any DNA with him, but there was never a doubt that he was Stiles’ son, his pup. Stiles would do anything for his kid; missing sleep after a long case and threatening the Coach were small tasks for him. As long as Eli was happy, Stiles was happy, and if Stiles and Eli were happy, so was Derek.

#sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #fanfiction #stiles x derek #kitcheniskingficrecs

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riki-riks-chick · 4 months

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Chainsmoker┃L.HS

smoker!heeseung x reader

heeseung smokes cigarettes, but yn wants him to quit.

cw: arguments, cigarettes, smoking, addiction.

wdct: 748

this is a request to make a longer version of this req.

═════════════

Third Person POV~

"Heeseung.. Wake up, baby.." You shake his shoulder, trying to wake him as he groans. "What?.." He asks sleepily as you sigh. "We're supposed to go shopping today, and then we're going to lunch. Get up." He nods, sitting up. "Okay.."

The two of you spend the next hour getting ready before heading to the front door, but you stop, turning to Heeseung.

"Give me your lighter.." You sigh, holding your hand out as he sighs, giving you the lighter. "Baby.. Do I really have to?" He asks as you nod. "Yes, smoking is terrible for you and I hate it.. I'll carry your gum if you want, but at least try the patches.. You're not making any effort to quit.."

He sighs, pretty much ignoring you as you roll your eyes, grabbing your keys before stepping out the door, locking it behind Heeseung.

Throughout the day, Heeseung is in a bad mood. And you know it's because he wants to smoke, but you physically can't stand it. It's not only a very unhealthy habit, but it's annoying. The nicotine kisses, the brand new outfits that now smell like cigarette smoke. You're so over it to the point that you're considering Heeseung not moving in with you permanently. And that's not something you want because you love your boyfriend, but he can't seem to give it up.

"Heeseung, do you think this is cute?" You ask, holding up a cute cardigan as he nods. "Yeah, whatever." You roll your eyes, hanging it back on the rack. "I get that you're pissed, but don't take it out on me. I'm only trying to help, Heeseung." You whisper yell as he scoffs. "Have you ever considered that I don't want your help?"

His tone is seething with anger, and it only makes you more upset. "Fine then.. Don't expect me to ever help you again. And you can move back to your apartment while you're at it."

Your tone is bitter, and he simply scoffs, turning to walk away. "Where are you going?" You question as he turns around, glaring at you. "Somewhere you aren't."

He then walks away as you sigh, running a frustrated hand through your hair. He's so stubborn sometimes. You've tried to get him to quit smoking multiple times before. You had even given up clubbing and drinking because he said, "I can't be the only one to give something up."

Now it's been a year and you haven't had an alcoholic beverage at all, but he's still smoking.

And you're not perfect, and you can't judge him for his addiction, but you're only trying to help.

You walk around for the next thirty minutes, trying to give Heeseung time to cool off before using his location to find him.

His location said that he was at the convenience store just a block away, so you walked there, taking your time. Soon enough, you found him outside the convenience store, a cigarette perched between his fingers as he took a slow drag.

Once his eyes met yours, he exhaled, putting the cigarette out. You walked over to him, ignoring the strong and recognizable scent of cigarettes on him. "I'm sorry I spoke to you that way."

You apologize, not wanting him to stay mad over what you said. He doesn't seem to want your apology, though.

"I don't wanna talk right now." He speaks lowly, and you sigh, grabbing his hands in yours. "Please, Hee.. I didn't mean that.. I was just upset and I misspoke." You apologize again and Heeseung's gaze drops. "So you do wanna live with me?..." He asks as you nod. "Of course I do.. I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, baby.."

You hug him and his wraps his arms around you, rubbing your back. "Sorry, I probably stink.." He pulls away, rubbing the back of his neck as you smile.

"It's fine.. I'll try to be less controlling.." He shakes his head. "No.. You were right.. It's a bad habit and I'm gonna quit.. I don't want you to resent me.."

You smile, kissing his cheek. "I could never resent you.. Don't worry.. We'll help you quit together. Okay?" He nods, hugging you again.

"I'll try my hardest.."

═════════════

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen soft headcanons #enhypen soft hours #enhypen heeseung #heeseung drabbles #heeseung headcanons #lee heeseung x reader #heeseung imagines #lee heesung x reader #lee heeseung

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housethemd · 11 months

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Headcanon:

House was a heavy smoker when he and Wilson met.

Like a pack day, chain smokes on his lunch break, type smoker.

Wilson, being an oncologist, hates it. Once they’ve developed a close enough friendship Wilson nags constantly about how terrible cigarettes are for you, and how if House had to see as many cases of lung cancer in a day as he does he would quit cold turkey.

House comes back of course with sarcastic comments and deflection and sometimes immediately lights up another smoke just to annoy Wilson.

But after a couple years they are out together and Wilson notices House hasn’t been smoking, but has been chewing a lot of gum. He realizes House didn’t come annoy him to go outside with him at lunch either.

The next time House pulls out the gum, Wilson asks for a piece. House says no and they scuffle until Wilson manages to get the package from House’s hand and lo and behold - it’s nicotine gum.

Wilson is floored. House is actually quitting smoking. For some reason this seems to embarrass House, so Wilson keeps it to himself how proud he is of him.

It backfires slightly though, because now instead of pestering Wilson to go outside and sit with him while he smokes, House is pestering Wilson into buying him lunch, because “If you won’t let me smoke, you can at least buy me lunch.”

#should I turn this into a fic #house md #james wilson #hate crimes md #greg house #dr house #dr wilson #hilson #wilson x house #house/wilson #house md headcanons

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urhoneycombwitch · 5 months

Text

breathe in the air

eddie x reader x steve. part i

foreword: this is part one/set up for a fic I’ve been chewin’ on. cw is for both parts and will get updated- no actual smut in this first one but please heed the tags anyway. +18 mdni as always. (@somnambulic-thing you inspired me to write from Eddie’s pov! 💖)

cw: smoking (weed and nicotine), R’s hair is mentioned but unspecified texture/length, also wears Eddie’s shirt, R has breasts + V, Eddie and Reader are both varying degrees of stoned while performing sex acts (please be safe IRL and don’t read if that makes you uncomfy!!), pt. ii will have: voyeurism (Eddie and R fool around and Steve watches), blow jobs, masturbation, both the boys being Down Bad™️

wc: 2.5k (part i)

_____

The sun has sunk low over Forest Hills, Eddie’s room cast in deep blue where the golden path of his bedside lamp doesn’t touch.

He’s lighting up a post-sex cigarette, one of the best things this shitty world has to offer, in his opinion- second only to feeling your warm body against his; writhing and wriggling with pleasure, neck craned to let him lick the sloping sweat from your skin- or times like now, when you’re calm and satiated, nude under the comfort of sheets and the weight of your head on his chest.

Casting a hand out to shuffle blindly through the bedside table, Eddie wraps his other arm around the sleepy length of you, pulling you tighter to himself; your response a wordless, happy little noise. His hand deep in the drawer catches on a stray cigarette, then around the hard plastic of a spare lighter. With a sigh of contentment, he kisses the top of your head before bringing the filter to his lips.

Sparks catch under his thumb, cherry of the cig burning red- like some sort of sleeper agent responding to the click, you sit up with a jolt, stealing the mess of sheets upwards, exposing Eddie’s lower half to the cool air.

Eddie swears, startled- thinking you were almost asleep, he’d been nearly careless with the open flame- tossing the lighter aside, he reaches towards your back that now faces him. “Jesus, babe. Give a guy some warning before you snap to attention like a damn general.”

Thumb pressed to the notches of your spine, palm wide around your lower back, Eddie can feel the quiet giggle that shakes through your ribs.

“Sorry,” you whisper once you’re finished, still staring at the far wall like you're trying not to break a spell. Your arms are crossed, sheets bunching around your chest- “Had a thought.”

“Must’ve been a good one,” Eddie muses, thumb following the line of your spine down, like he’s petting an oversized cat.

In true feline fashion your back arches into his touch, encouraging his palm to sweep up again, to your shoulder blade this time as you murmur, “I wanna go swimming.”

“Okay.” Eddie’s immediately agreeable, taking a long drag from the cig, letting smoke fill out the hollows around his lungs. “We’ll go to Lover’s Lake tomorrow. Heard it’s gonna be a hot one.”

Hawkins is having a record heat wave for the second summer in a row- as if all the damn underground monster shit and horrific earthquakes of last year weren’t enough already: global warming to top it all off. The sun has been merciless these last few weeks, peaking midday, nothing for it but to lie in a heated daze on the kitchen tiles of whoever’s house is the least amount of bitch to get to.

Not that Eddie’s complaining about you being half-naked most of the time. He thinks this is the year you might actually kill him, now that he can touch you, call you his- every curve of upper calf in those short shorts, every soft slip of stomach peeking out from cropped tops- he’s got enough spank bank material to last until his deathbed. (Which he’s decidedly allowed to joke about, since, ya know, the whole almost-dying thing last spring.)

Eddie moves on haptic memory to set aside his cigarette, searching pinky-out for the lip of the ashtray (ceramic, with a poorly-drawn Snoopy, the ears far too big- you’d laughed until you cried over it at the thrift store; he was fifty cents poorer that day but rich and dizzy off your glee).

“No, not the lake. And I wanna go swimming now.” There’s a hint of petulance in your voice, walking the thin line of childish whine that only appears these days after you’ve smoked, tongue and desires loosened and lax with the help of the finest hash stash in Hawkins.

There’s a smile threatening to split Eddie’s face in two. He’s been working at that hard-won wall of your solitude for ages now, showing rather than telling you it’s okay to ask for things, that you’re safe to make requests and hell, even demands, from him. Eddie’s not sure what he wouldn’t do for you, at this point- hasn’t found that line yet. Probably doesn’t exist.

A monster of my own design, he thinks, fondly, sweeping the hair from your neck so he can see the outline of cheek and jawbone, reflective with lamplit glow. “Baby, there’s nowhere to swim right now- it’s dark and that’s not real safe. Tomorrow I’ll make us some sandwiches- we can drive out to the lake, you can get stoned and I’ll play lifeguard.”

It’s probably too much to hope you’ve swallowed this bitter pill of compromise in silence, but based on the lack of response, it’s certainly possible. Eddie presses his thumb into the muscle where your neck meets shoulder, massage a silent apology for saying no when you’d been so good to ask.

Crickets chirp in chorus outside, sound dampened by the glass window- he needs to open it soon, get the hot air out and night breeze flowing (though he is loath to replace the heady smell of sex wrapped like a cozy blanket around his room).

He feels you shuffle under his hand, eyes popping open to watch- you’ve tucked your chin over the dip in your shoulder, looking down the slope of your own nose at him, an expression on your face that makes Eddie’s stomach flip (with nerves, fear, excitement, hard to pinpoint exactly).

Your voice is quiet but steady when you speak, Eddie’s massaging fingers freezing to a halt when you say, “I know a place, open right now, with a lit-up pool. And a lifeguard.”

A thin tendril of smoke from the ashtray floats into Eddie’s vision as he stares blankly at the ceiling for a moment. Then he sits up, crushing the cherry into Snoopy’s wavered outline (sorry, pal) before brushing arms with you, patient and stern with a headshake to match- “No way, sweetheart.”

“Why-y?” That petulance is back, Eddie’s heart kicking up in response; it’s your turn to give the physical affection, winding your arms in a closed loop around his neck, forehead bumping against his jaw as he works it back and forth.

His stitched-tight resolve quickly unspools as the wet plush of your lips track a path across his throat; he clears it before squeezing at your side again, one last argument to try and stick like cooked spaghetti to a wall. “You’re high.”

You snort, puff of breath sending goosebumps across his skin, rapidly cooling from lack of your affection- “Yeah, and you’re not. So you can drive us there, and then smoke again with me before we go in, and Stevie boy will keep us safe in that nice, heated, well-lit pool of his.”

Even as you speak, Eddie’s shaking his head, but it’s more in disbelief of his own weakness (namely: you). He slips a hand to your cheek, pulling back to take you in- mischief shimmering like twin stars in your eyes as you lock onto his gaze, lips parting pliant when his thumb swipes at your bottom lip.

“You gonna behave yourself?”

It’s less of a question and more of a check-in, the meaning behind the words an undulating variable, a riddle with a thousand different answers.

The one you do give is complimented by a wicked grin, punctuated with a quick kiss (awfully chaste, considering your bare front pressed against his), your mirthful delight at having won both unsettling and tantalizing.

“Guess you’ll have to find out.”

With a sudden push to his chest, Eddie goes down easy for you, hair spreading riotous across the pillow as you move with shocking fluidity to throw a leg over his hip. Your hands meet in the middle of his chest, just under the rippling ink of a crow in flight, settling your weight comfortably on his stomach.

Eddie’s sure you can feel his pulse, jack-rabbit fast, as you dip to kiss beneath his jaw. His hands automatically settle on your hips, grip tightening with each loving kiss you scatter over his collarbones, his sternum.

He’s half-hard under the sheets by the time your lips find the hitch of his ribs, stuttering and expanding to meet your mouth- can’t be faulted, really, not when your bare chest gleams in the low light, the top of your head imploring for the warmth of his wide palm to rest.

Just when Eddie thinks he’s in the clear, that the call of your needs (evident in the slickness pooling just under his navel where your naked cunt rests) will drive the call of your wants to distraction, you sit up again, using your planted hands as leverage to swing completely off and away.

The coldness of your absence is cruel and unusual punishment. Eddie groans, scrubbing a hand down his face, deciding right then that he won’t be above begging tonight- when you suddenly reappear with a clean beach towel in either arm, pulled from the bowels of his closet.

There’s youthful, honest enthusiasm to your movements- something that’s catching, apparently, ‘cuz Eddie’s tipping himself out of bed with a resigned sigh, pulling boxers over his flagging dick and answering your spree of questions about these new evening plans.

“Sure, bring a water bottle. No, babe, we don’t need sunscreen- it’s night. Yeah, I’ll bring more weed. How ‘bout you bring me that old shoulder bag and we can bring some stuff with us.”

As you work on digging through the mess of a combined closet to find something suitable for swimming, Eddie folds the two towels that you’d found along with a baggie of joints into the bag. You’re humming under your breath while getting dressed, and Eddie’s staring at all the leftover space- what does one pack for a nighttime high swim with one’s girlfriend and the guy you’ve both sort-of mentioned threesoming with?

He tosses in a well-loved edition of your favorite book of poems, figuring the Harrington abode will have plenty of snacks. Food for the mind, he thinks, then snorts at his own joke.

“C’mon, snorty.” You beckon from the doorway, an old t-shirt of his just swishing past the dark strip of your bikini bottoms, van keys held aloft.

At the front door, there’s a brief argument about coats (you think you’ll be fine without, Eddie disagrees vehemently) which Eddie wins, wrangling your arms into the sleeves of his oil-stained work jacket before locking the front door behind you both.

Eddie smiles, a secret, pure thrill watching you tiptoe gingerly across the gravel on bare feet (too stubborn to actually wear the sandals that hang from either hand). His coat is bunched up around your ears while your legs poke out like some sort of winterized bird with bare legs.

There’s a bright pang of love that suddenly hits hits sideways, a dizzying urge to sink on denim knees to the ground, sharp rocks be damned, just to kiss the tender spot behind your knees, to feel the hill of your calf under his tongue…

Your giggle breaks his reverie, impatient and pointed jiggling of the locked passenger handle clunking out into the quiet park. “Quit staring, weirdo. You coming?”

Hope so, Eddie thinks, spinning the key ring in looping arcs around his pointer finger. He bypasses the porch steps completely, boots hitting the gravel with a satisfying crunch. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

Your cheery mood is sustained during the short car ride as you chatter animatedly about some coworker drama that you forgot to catch him up on, Eddie’s hand drawn like a magnet to your upper thigh while he drives.

But by the time he’s pulling the van next to Harrington’s beemer, your eagerness has waned, speech drifting off into silence once he’s parked.

“Hey.” His voice draws you back to him, a bit, your eyes too wide and roving for his liking, coat sleeves clenched around opposing fists as you hang onto his words. “Sweetheart. We don’t have to go inside. Can go anywhere- diner for some food, back home, the damn trash heap for all I care. Just want you to feel safe.”

“I do,” you counter, earnest but chest still punching a fast rhythm. “I feel safe. I just… you think he’s even awake?”

There’s a yellow glow coming from one of the second-floor windows. Your fingers twist harshly around fabric in the dark, breath loud.

Eddie nods, then kills the engine and grabs behind his seat for the Ziploc of pre-rolls, an offering held to you between two ringed fingers. “Want a bit of Green Courage before going in?”

The van windows are soon fuzzily obscured with a haze of smoke, sprinklers for the pristine lawn nearby hissing to an automated start at the turn of 11 PM. The weed coaxes your earlier state of relax to the forefront, this time with an added layer of giggles, which Eddie finds desperately cute.

He’s sure he’s high now, too, ‘cuz he’s unintentionally focusing really hard on your lips as you speak, and you’re letting him, corner of your mouth quirking when you ask, “Gonna take me inside, Munson?”

“Uh huh.” An automatic response, just so he can keep staring- when you pop the handle of your door open Eddie reaches, faltering before landing on your face, cupping the tilt of your cheek- “Meant it. Earlier. Just say the word. Take you anywhere.”

Weed fragments his speech but you melt with understanding, leaning into his hand, your lashes sweeping sweetly at the bridge of his thumb as you whisper, “Okay.”

You’re out the door and he’s left scrambling in the wake, hauling the strap of the packed bag over one shoulder and snapping up your forgotten shoes from the footwell. He locks the doors (nevermind that this is a nice neighborhood, can’t trust rich people farther than he can throw ‘em and Eddie has always been better at running over shotput on field days) and hikes it across the grass to where you stand, a beacon of beauty under the porch light.

“Ready?” he asks.

Your bare foot- flecked with wet grass- trails up the back of your opposing leg, veins at the whites of your eyes spidering pink with anticipation (and the fresh joint) as you turn to smile at him. “Yeah. Bring it on.”

“Your wish, my command,” Eddie says, winking, knuckles pulled into a fist to rap at the front door of one Steve Harrington.

___

[END: PART ONE]

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steddie x reader #eddie munson x reader x steve harrington #eddie x reader x steve #steddie #cw weed #weed ment #tw weed

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lavender-romancer · 1 year

Text

I'd Do Anything

Part One Tommy Shelby x Reader

You met when you were sixteen and from there, your lives ebbed and flowed closer and further away from one another but there was always something that brought you together.

”*°•.˜”*°•. ˜”*°•. ˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜

1906

When you were a child your parents' marriage always seemed too difficult, with such a lack of care or affection for each other. More like two adults who had married for social convention than for love and you decided then and there that you'd never accept anything less than love.

Your teenage years had a few flings but you knew you were never in love with them, there was one boy you had met whilst watching your younger siblings play on Watery Lane with some other local children.

This boy didn't approach you initially, instead looked at you across the street with an inquisitive expression as he sat in a doorway with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. You decided to walk over to him which seemed to take the boy by surprise.

"Can I have a smoke?" You asked, attempting to start a conversation. He quickly scrambled to his feet and was noticeably smaller than you but most boys were at your age anyways.

"What's… what's your name?" He asked and you smiled before rolling up a cigarette and holding it between your fingers.

"I'm Y/n, and you?" You looked at him expectantly and he quickly brought out a pack of matches.

"I'm Tommy," he smiled and gestured to where the children were playing. "That's my brother John and my sister Ada. Arthur's around here somewhere."

"How old are you, Tommy?" You lit your cigarette and Tommy looked at you hesitantly before answering.

"I'm sixteen, I know you would have no way of realising that. I still haven't had my growth spurt." Tommy huffed and you smirked before telling him you were also sixteen. "Do you live 'round here?"

"I'm at the end of the street," you smiled "I hadn't seen you before either, if that's what you meant." You struck a match and lit your cigarette before handing them back to Tommy.

"Will I see you again?" He asked with a hopeful look in his eyes.

"I suppose you will. But I'll be busier than before so you'll just have to have wonderful timing." You giggled and Tommy's cheeks went pink.

"I- I only meant that we could do more than watch our little brothers play." He stumbled over his words and you found it quite endearing.

"I'd like that. You'll have to meet me after around 5 at the school. I get extra tuition there on weekdays." You took a deep inhale of nicotine and your head seemed to clear.

"Why are you at school still?" He asked.

"Because, Tommy, I am trying to pass an entrance exam. They have a women's college in London so for the next two years I have to work harder than I have before." You felt the fogginess in your brain returning but you had to ignore it.

"I never considered leaving here and you're going to London, it's impressive." Tommy looked up at you and then averted his gaze, not wanting to make you feel he was too small.

"I have to get out of here, at least for a few years. Small Heath isn't the problem, it's my parents and their lack of concern for my education." You rolled your eyes and leant against the brick wall behind you. Tommy saw what you were doing and followed your actions, wanting to seem interesting.

"Jesus." Tommy let out a long breath and you nodded.

"There's no other way for me to break the cycle of my family never earning enough to get by and constantly being worried, I can fix it all." You tapped some ash off your cigarette.

"I can't say I could match you academically but I could definitely beat you at cards." He joked and you smiled.

"I wouldn't be so sure." You looked down at him.

"I could absolutely rinse you when you get all rich." Tommy raised an eyebrow and you looked at him with offense.

"Now that will definitely have to be tested." You smirked.

For the next two years Tommy would meet you after tuition every single day and when you didn't have tuition you would be spending the day with one another. Going on walks, visiting his family or going to his uncle's dockyard and messing about there. He was your escape from the fogginess in your brain that crept up when you thought about the future. He made you laugh and feel at ease with the world.

Tommy had figuratively and literally grown up in front of your eyes, now a bit taller than you and a lot more mature. The two of you acted like an old married couple with the way you bickered and then made up. But the two of you had never breached the subject of romance. Regardless of the Shelby brothers' teasing, the two of you had never brought it up.

You got a lot closer with Tommy's aunt, Polly when her daughter Anna was born. You loved babies and wanted to help in any way possible with childcare. Her and her brother Michael were angels to look after, most of the Shelby brood were. But they were always a bit more mischievous than the Gray children.

When Finn was born things got significantly difficult for Tommy. His mother was dead, his father had abandoned them and you didn't have the social faculties to try and soothe the hurt. You tried to help with Finn whenever Polly had to work or the Shelby offspring went to try to find work. But it wasn't the same between you and Tommy, he had taken the position of the leader of the family and the responsibility weighed on him greatly.

"Tom," you asked as you leant against the same wall you'd met in front of two years prior. "Can I have a cig?" You asked with a pleading smile, he looked unimpressed but rolled you one anyway.

"When's your entrance exam?" He asked.

"It's next week, I'm absolutely terrified. I didn't think trying to get matriculated would be so stressful after this much preparation but I'm losing it." You let out a long sigh and rubbed your eyes.

"You need time to chill out. Polly is with Finn, Ada and John all day tomorrow so we could go for a walk? Take the bus out to the countryside or something?" He suggested and you could have blushed. You didn't want to admit that you had feelings for Tommy but it was hard to not feel that way when he was just so wonderful.

"I would like that very much." You smiled broadly and Tommy bowed his head, trying to hide that he was blushing too.

The next few months after your entrance exams in London were a lot more relaxed than you thought they'd be. But it was all down to Tommy. He did everything possible to spend time with you and never even mentioned university so you could take your mind off it. All you could do was look at him adoringly as he made you tea and helped look after Anna and Finn. Polly often joked that the two of you looked like "a couple with a baby". The first time she said it you looked up from cradling Finn and Tommy looked up from spoon feeding Finn his milk. The two of you simply blushed to yourselves and never spoke of it again.

But the family was beginning to see you as a couple regardless of what the two of you thought about it. One night- more alcohol fueled than you wanted to admit- the two of you had been lounging all over one another as you drank more and more pints when someone started a daring game. Most of it was boilerplate dares until Arthur focussed his attention on the two of you.

"Tommy, I dare you to kiss Y/n!" He announced with a resounding cheer from everyone taking part. You looked at Tommy with a confusing expression and Tommy went to refuse but you put a hand on his cheek in some drunken confidence. He turned his head to look at you before leaning forward and kissing you deeply. In the back of his mind Tommy could hear his brother's laughing but none of it mattered. He was kissing you. Kissing the person who had made him anxious when they first met and now continually impressed him with their dedication and affection for others. The two of you pulled apart and both finished your pints before going up to the bar together to order another.

"Well that was…" you slurred and Tommy hiccuped which made you laugh.

"I liked it." Tommy said in a very serious voice before you both started laughing.

"I know you're definitely too drunk to remember this tomorrow but I've wanted that to happen for so long." To stop yourself drunkenly stumbling you were leaning against his shoulder with your eyes fluttering shut.

"You think I haven't?" Tommy asked as the pints came and you were convinced you misheard him.

"Huh?" You said as he went to move back to the table.

"You heard what I said!" He said happily before turning around and heading for the table. You stood for a moment and had to check your bearings, leaning against the bar. He'd wanted to kiss you? Your head was spinning and you didn't know how to process that information so you headed outside. The cold autumnal air hit you like a slap and woke you up a bit. You needed to calm down and try to figure out what had just happened.

Tommy turned around to see where you'd got to and saw your pint still on the bar. He knew it was unlikely you'd leave it so he stood up and looked around a bit before walking outside. The air also woke him up a bit and as he looked around he saw you leaning on the wall of the Garrison smoking a hurriedly rolled cigarette. He stood in front of you and took the cigarette out of your mouth before smoking some of it himself, you just looked down at his shoes and it made him shuffle uncomfortably.

"This is the longest we've been silent with one another the whole time I've known you." Tommy noted and you nodded without a reply. "What's wrong?" He finally asked and you stole back your cigarette.

"I'm just coming to terms with the fact that you wanted to kiss me." You wouldn't raise your gaze from his shoes and Tommy sighed.

"But you said you wanted to?" Tommy said, confused.

"I did, I do. But I didn't know that you did. For how long?" You asked.

"Since the day I met you, Y/n." Tommy admitted without any shame and you smiled.

"Even when you were that short I found you endearing so I suppose I did pretty early on as well." You finally met his gaze and could stare at nothing else but his eyes.

"So what are you so confused about?" He asked, taking a step closer to you.

"The eventuality that we might hate each other," You paused. "I don't know if I could live with it."

"Why would we hate each other?" Tommy seemed even more confused.

"If something happens and then the two of us grow apart and everything changes and I don't know." You trailed off and just lent against the wall and looked up at the sky.

"You're thinking too much again." Tommy smirked and you rolled your eyes.

"You're a bastard." You smiled a bit, not willing to admit he was right.

"You need to be in the moment." He said softly, moving slightly closer to you, your eyes met his before he leant down and kissed you.

You spent the night with him after that but waking up in his bed partially clothed with a banging headache, all you could feel… was regret. You prayed he wouldn't remember the night, the kiss and everything after. As you left that morning from the Shelby house you were so familiar with, you almost didn't look back.

By the following week much has gone back to normal between you and Tommy with neither of you broaching the topic of the night in question because what was there to say? There was an air of difference between the two of you but you refused to address it. You were back to hanging out together platonically, looking after each other's siblings and dealing with all the teasing about you both 'looking like a couple'. Even if you had to suppress your feelings forever it would be worth it. Tommy was worth more than a night of a drunken mishap, it wasn't that you regretted the act, you did regret the way it happened. You didn't want the first kiss you shared to be influenced by alcohol or the first night you spent together. You wanted it to be normal.

That week you received your letter from Bedford College and practically ran to the Shelby household. You burst through the door unable to speak with how out of breath you were, all of the Shelby's looked at you as if you were insane but you shook the letter at them whilst puffing. Polly took the letter from your hand and quickly opened it as you keeled over.

"Oh my god." Polly said quietly looking at the letter.

"W-what?" You managed to get out, absolutely terrified.

"You got in." She turned her head to you with wide eyes and a smile. You genuinely felt like you might faint.

"We've got an academic in the family!" Arthur yelled with a smile and even Finn started laughing happily. Your eyes fixed on Tommy and he smiled at you but his eyes were sad.

"Well done sweetheart." Polly said before embracing you in a close hug. "You deserve it."

"I think I might need a drink." You said quietly and she laughed.

Polly cooked you all dinner and sitting together you couldn't believe you would have evenings like this for a while. You looked at the faces of all of the people you were able to call your family and just wanted them all to come with you. The security blanket you'd had these last two years would be so far away in only a month. Anything you knew would be so far away and it was incredibly daunting. As you were all cleaning up, you and Tommy had been saddled with washing and drying, it had been about five minutes and he hadn't said a word.

"Are you alright?" You asked him and he nodded. "You have absolutely nothing to say to me?" You prompted and he rested his hand against the countertop.

"I'm happy for you." He replied in the most deadpan voice you'd ever heard before walking out of the backdoor. You sighed deeply before placing the plate you were holding back in the sink and following him outside. He was sitting on a rusty metal chair smoking a cigarette and didn't walk away as you approached him so it seemed he did want to discuss whatever was going on.

"Please talk to me," you said softly as you pulled an upturned box closer to sit near Tommy.

"What is there to say?" He brought his eyes to yours and you could see the glint of a tear forming before he sniffed and looked down.

"I know everything is changing, you know I love this place, I love your family I love…" you trailed off. "Anyways, you know I love it here with all of you but just because I love something doesn't mean that I can't want better opportunities for myself even if they are somewhere else. You understand what it is to want to protect people and I can do that with proper qualifications and a good job. I can help all of you the way I want too."

"We're not asking for charity." Tommy said harshly and you were taken aback.

"Charity? It would be a gift for all you have done for me." You were referring to the whole family but it felt as if your words were so directed towards Tommy you just didn't know how to express yourself.

"Everything is going to change." Tommy said simply and you rubbed the back of your neck anxiously.

"But you knew it would, for years you've known my plan." You tried to explain and he scoffed.

"It's different now. We're different now and it's not the same as before." Tommy tried to subtlety wipe his eyes but you saw it and it sent a pang to your chest.

"What do you mean?" You tried to deflect from what he was referring too.

"Don't tell me you're still pulling a 'Im too drunk to remember' excuse. You know what I'm talking about and honestly, I think we both might be finished with this conversation." Tommy stood up and tried to walk away but you grabbed his hand and then his leg and held on like a scolded child. You didn't know how to express yourself but you knew you wanted him with you. In whatever capacity that was, you didn't care.

"Please." You whispered and you heard Tommy sigh before stroking your hair.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment before Tommy sat down again. Your eyes were glassy and threatening to release tears at any point and Tommy knew that. You took hold of Tommy's hand and traced the lines of his palm so you didn't have to look him in the eye.

"I did what I did because I was scared. I meant what I said when I was talking about how worried I was that you'd hate me because things would change. Not that I didn't want them too but that they could end badly and then nothing would work the same as before. I'd much rather sacrifice my own happiness than our bond and the closeness I have with your family." You explained quietly and Tommy closed his fingers around your index finger tracing his hand. You looked up at him and could see the hint of a smile before he pulled you closer to him.

"The affection I feel for you would overpower any petty fight or disagreement we might have." He said softly and you smiled slightly, it tugged at the edges of your mouth like an annoying child.

"I'm sorry for leaving and-" you began but Tommy just shook his head.

"Everything is settled now." Tommy picked up your hand and kissed your palm. "I think-"

"We're going to the pub do you-" Arthur started saying as he opened the backdoor but then saw you holding hands and burst out laughing before going inside.

"Oh Jesus Christ." Tommy muttered that you could only laugh, which caused you to lean backwards and forget you weren't sitting on a chair. You tumbled backwards and hit the ground hard but you were laughing so intensely you ignored the pain.

"Fuck me, that hurt." You giggled as Tommy helped you to your feet. When you were stable Tommy kept hold of your hands and looked down into your eyes.

He was so beautiful. It took you back every time you looked at him, the way his lips parted slightly when he was near you or how his hair fell over his face so he'd constantly be pushing it back. Everything Tommy did was so endearing it was hard not to feel the way you did for him. When he leant forward to kiss you, it was the first time you had both been affectionate with one another with clear heads. It didn't feel real, like a daydream that would wander into your head whenever you were staring off into the distance- whenever someone tried to get your attention and it took a moment it was because you were usually thinking about Tommy.

"I'd do anything for that to happen again." Tommy whispered as the two of you lent your foreheads against one another.

Your stomach felt like it jumped out of your body, did an excited somersault and jumped back into your body. All you could do was smile.

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freelancearsonist · 7 months

Text

Hold Me Like a Knife

Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Rated MA for p in v sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, handjobs, smoking/nicotine use, excessive drinking, characters not knowing how to handle emotions properly (same), ANGST [please let me know if i missed anything at all :)]

6,003 Words

A/N: thank you to the lovely @shakespeareanwannabe for being my ever faithful beta reader ily 🥺

Smoke disperses in abstract swirls from Joel’s parted lips, the tang of nicotine making his taste buds prickle. It’s been a long time since he’s been afforded the luxury of a cigarette and this first drag makes him think he might not want to pick the habit back up, after all. But you worked hard to find these for him after he mentioned he missed having a smoke, and he’s not one to let a gift go unappreciated. Especially now that gifts are off the table.

It’s become routine at this point. Waking up in the middle of the night; reaching for you, realizing all over again that you’re not there anymore; ruminating on what’s happened, how he’s taken you for granted. At least he has his cigarette to keep him company.

There’s no chance of going back to sleep for him–it’s 4AM anyway, close enough to a full night’s sleep. He takes another drag and decides it’s not as bad anymore. He just needs to get reacclimated to it.

He only allows himself to savor half the cigarette before he stubs it out in the ashtray on the nightstand–another gift from you–to save for next time he needs it. He wants to make this pack last; he doesn’t care as much about maintaining the habit as he does about having any little piece of you he can.

Two hours later, he’s bathed to the best of his ability given the stunted resources in the quarantine zone and ready for another day in hell.

He didn’t hate it nearly as much until he started working with you again.

When you see him you wear the same soft smile you always do, nodding your head in greeting as if nothing is wrong. His face remains flat as he nods back. Nothing he can do but play along–pretend you were never his to lose in the first place. After all, if you haven’t heard his heart fracturing into a million pieces by now, you never will.

“Either quit starin’ or go over there and talk to her,” Tess tells him sternly. He immediately snaps his eyes away and tries to shoot her a glare, but he’s a bit too embarrassed for it to actually land.

“M’not starin’,” he grunts.

She actually almost cracks a smile at his denial. “The hell you’re not, you look like a lost puppy. Why don’t you talk to her?”

“She ain’t interested in talkin’.”

“Bullshit. That’s all she wants.”

Maybe Tess is right. Maybe he’s the one who’s afraid. He’s not going to admit that, though.

“If she wanted to talk to me, she’d come talk to me.”

“You probably scared her off.”

Joel slams his hand against the wagon bed, startling everyone within a ten meter radius except Tess. “That’s enough.”

“Touchy.” Tess rolls her eyes but backs off nonetheless, not interested in poking the bear any further.

Joel lets it go and turns his attention back to his assigned job for the day, mentally preparing himself for another night of washing the stench of death from himself and his clothes. Normally, you would do it for him without complaining. Now it’s just another addition to the list of efforts he didn’t appreciate enough while he had you.

Even though he dreads the consequences, he allows himself to become completely preoccupied with his work in a way he normally wouldn’t. It’s a reprieve from the constant swirling of his mind, from the overthinking that keeps him up at night or invades his dreams when he finally finds rest.

The day is over far too soon, and then he’s back in his little apartment with nothing but his own mind for company.

His mind hasn’t been a friend lately.

He looks around and everywhere his dark amber eyes catch, he sees you. You sprawled on the worn couch underneath a threadbare blanket, you swaying your hips to the rhythm of silent music in the kitchen, you casually dropping the towel wrapped around your naked body to the floor as you step out of the shower and lure him down the hall to the bedroom.

He wants to crawl into a deep, dark pit when he remembers what he said and how he chased you away. Your only sin was introducing him to someone as your man, and he played like he was upset about it because that’s not what this was ever supposed to be. There had been an agreement, in the beginning, that feelings wouldn’t be involved. It would be you, him, separate, occasionally helping each other out.

It so quickly turned into you and him, so inseparable you were practically living together. Neither of you even tried to stop it despite the agreement. And Joel was fine with it, liked it even. Until it was put into words.

Because he’s not supposed to be anyone’s. He’s Joel Miller, and he’s not deserving of belonging to anyone; including himself.

He didn’t mean to push you away. It was more out of instinct, an inborn urge to self-destruct.

The instinct has won, because he feels like mere pieces at this point. Like you’ve taken a sledgehammer to his heart repeatedly, which really isn’t fair to you. Space was his decision–you didn’t even fight it.

With a third of whiskey in his hand and an ache in his jaw from having it unconsciously clenched so long, he slumps down on his time-worn couch and begins a long night of rehashing mistakes and feeling bad for himself.

It could be so easily fixed if he just swallowed his pride. It’s a competition of will at this point–a game to see who can survive without the other for the longest. He hates that he’s losing, that it’s not affecting you; that even though it was his choice, he’s the one who’s suffering the most.

He must spill his drink–although he can’t find where it possibly could’ve been spilled, everything around him is dry–because it’s gone within a few minutes. He allows himself another glass as a reward for surviving a particularly shitty day.

When he comes to in the morning, there’s a pounding in his head so loud that it drowns out any other sound he might hear. It takes him a moment to realize that the pounding is on the door–then he processes how blinding the sun is coming through the slats of the tattered blinds precariously hanging over the window.

Joel pushes himself up from the couch with a grunt and stumbles a little, nearly falling right back into place. He curses himself for becoming such a lightweight as he stomps his way over to the door and throws it open.

“Jesus Christ, you reek,” Tess chokes, pushing past him to make her way inside. “I’ve only been knockin’ for ten minutes, what the hell were you doin’?”

“Sleeping,” he tells her with a pointed glare. It doesn’t ruffle her at all–it never does.

“Missed morning shift,” she notes. “How much you have to drink?”

“Not enough.”

“Alright, that’s it,” she tells him with a sigh. “It’s time to stop with the pity party if you’re not gonna play the hand you’re dealt. You know how stupid you’re being? She wants you. You want her. Two words’ll fix the whole thing and you’ll go right back to bein’ the disgusting little lovebirds you are. Apologize.”

“No,” he insists without thinking it over. Because he knows she’s right–he owes you an apology. And he also knows you’ll take him back the instant he delivers.

Which is exactly why he can’t. He knows he doesn’t deserve another chance to take you for granted. He didn’t appreciate you enough when he had you, and you deserve to find someone who will. Asking for another chance would be the most selfish thing he’s ever done, and Joel Miller is not a selfish man.

“Then drink yourself to death.” As much as Tess plays at being frustrated with him, he’s never seen her this legitimately upset. “I’m done cleanin’ up for you. You’re acting pathetic, Joel Miller. Get yourself together or get yourself over.”

And before he can stop her, apologize, beg, plead, do anything besides bite his tongue in pure shock, she’s gone. The slam of the door rings through his head for a good minute longer than it should.

All he can do is slump like a sack of potatoes onto the couch, his center of gravity off balance from the weight in his heart and the churning in his stomach.

It was never supposed to be like this; it was never supposed to get this far. You were supposed to fight him, demand he stay, do anything to make him feel like you really want to be with him. Instead, you acquiesced without resistance. You listened to his offer of space and accepted without hesitance. Almost like you were looking for an out.

That’s what hurts most, maybe. That you can still afford to smile at him like nothing ever happened between you when he feels like he’ll never smile again.

He knows he can’t lose Tess over this–she’s the only friend he’s got and a damned good business partner. He knows it’s time to clean up his act. What he doesn’t know is if he actually can without you by his side.

Baby steps. He decides to start by showering and changing his clothes; the freshness should make him feel astronomically better.

He lets the limited hot water run over his sore muscles and through his hair, trying to wash away memories of you along with the dirt and grime.

He thinks of long nights spent sneaking out after curfew–his pack heavy on his aching shoulders but barely feeling it when you’re so near. He thinks of nights in this apartment together, hours and hours spent reminiscing and planning new trips and even more hours spent in comfortable silence. He thinks of you on your knees in this very shower with him, of how he felt akin to a god beneath your praise and worship.

He lets the thoughts swirl for just a moment, and then he watches as they trickle down the drain.

A towel off and a change of clothes later, and he’s almost a new man. The hole in his chest has shrunk a bit, at least.

One deep breath, then another. Joel can almost feel you slipping through his fingers, and for once the sensation doesn’t terrify him. There’s a quiet solitude, a resignation to his mind now. He’ll never be happy, and that’s okay. He might at least be able to find peace if he can’t have you.

He finds Tess and apologizes–at least in the best fashion Joel Miller can manage. It’s a grunted “sorry” and not much more, but it’s enough.

And then, because he has nothing else to do with his free time, he throws himself completely into survival. Working long shifts at the fires during the day, and even longer shifts as a smuggler at night. The crows feet at the corners of his eyes deepen and his hair grays rapidly, but he finds a way out. He finds a way away from you, and he doesn’t hesitate to take it.

Somehow, you beat him to Jackson. He doesn’t know how–he’s sure you were still in Boston when he left–but you’re waiting there for him when he arrives.

Waiting maybe isn’t the best way of putting it; you look at him like you’re looking at a poltergeist. Not just a ghost of your past, but a volatile and unpredictable one at that.

He can’t blame you. He ditched you, after all–not just emotionally, but physically.

You observe from afar for a while, like a timid animal meeting its first human. You watch his reunion with his brother, how he seems to fit like a puzzle piece into such a tight knit community. You even see him interacting with the young girl he’s brought along with him, and you wonder if he’s changed. If maybe he’s allowed his heart to open even just the slightest fraction.

The whole of Jackson gathers to greet this newest member, and you’re on the very edge of the crowd. But it’s like there’s an invisible string connecting the two of you—like the sea of people parts to make a path for your reunion.

Joel doesn’t know what to say. It’s been so long, and yet it feels like just yesterday he still had you in his arms.

You nod at him and awkwardly shuffle your feet against the cracked pavement. ”Hey.”

”Hey.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets to keep himself from reaching for you.

You don’t show the same restraint.

In mere seconds you’re on him, arms around his neck and lips pressed to his like he’s air—like if you don’t breathe him in you’ll die.

He grunts in surprise at the suddenness, but more at the fact that he can’t believe this is happening. That you’re really here, really in his arms, really kissing him. He doesn’t know if it would be better to talk through everything first, but he’s missed you so badly that there doesn’t seem to be another way to communicate it other than to show you. His hands settle on your waist and pull you tightly against him, lips parting to allow your tongue access. It’s harsh and it’s frenzied, but it’s beautiful in the way a force of nature is.

And then you remember the prying eyes surrounding you and you reluctantly pull out of his grasp.

There’s a bit of muffled conversation and a particularly loud wolf-whistle from Tommy before the crowd disperses, and you’re alone together for the first time in more than a year.

”Sorry—“ “That was—”

He clears his throat, and you nod in signal for him to take his turn.

“How did you get here?”

“It was a fluke, really. I caught a radio broadcast and decided to check it out. The QZ didn’t feel like home anymore after you left.”

Joel tries as hard as he can not to read too far into that, but he can’t help the fleeting hope that it means you wanted to fix things. That maybe you weren’t as unbothered as you always seemed to be.

You clear your throat and continue. “But… what about you? Who’s the kid? Where’s Tess?”

”I’m takin’ the kid to the fireflies. Tess is gone.”

Your face falls instantly. You’ve admittedly always been a little bit jealous of Tess and her closeness to Joel, but you never wished this upon her.

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Joel grunts noncommittally, and you’re left to awkwardly shuffle your feet while you think of something else to say. You’ve spent so much time apart, there should be so much more to talk about. But even in the QZ, talking was never your speciality—and it definitely wasn’t Joel’s. More than anything with him, you’re familiar with the comfortable silence that surrounds two people who’ve spent a lifetime together. Your lifetime with Joel just happened to be over the span of a couple of months; but that’s how it goes with someone who matches you so completely. There doesn’t have to be anything said when he already knows what you’re thinking—when you’re two parts of a whole.

”Sorry. About kissing you. I… I’m normally better controlled,” you mumble.

”Don’t be.” He clears his throat, shifts his feet—does everything within his power from making eye contact with you because he knows if he does he won’t be able to stop himself. “Wasn’t bad.”

”We did agree we weren’t gonna do that anymore,” you point out.

”That was back in the QZ.”

”And here?”

The hope in your voice is unmistakable. You’ve missed him, and that’s almost impossible for him to comprehend. Joel wants nothing more than to lean into your hope; to give you—and him—exactly what you want. You’ve missed out on so much time, and there’s little time available to make up for it.

Fuck it, he decides. “Here? I’m pullin’ my head out of my ass.”

And then he kisses you, and it’s not sweet. It burns—with passion, desire, regret. He presses his lips to yours like he’s finally realizing what he’s lost and might never get back. Joel Miller isn’t a man who can say sorry easily, but he says it to you now with his lips, and his tongue, and his hands.

It feels like you’re learning him all over again. You marvel at how tall he is, how broad his shoulders are as you run your palms across them. You revel in the softness of his lips and the contrasting scratch of his patchy beard. More than anything, you’re in awe of the feeling of his hands—how familiar they feel even after so long as they trail down your neck from your face on the way to your hips.

You pull away sooner than you want to, but you both seem to realize that you can’t just snog in the middle of the street. Most of the crowd has cleared out by now, but there’s a few sets of wandering eyes to worry about.

“Tommy didn’t happen to show you your house, did he?”

Joel’s brow furrows in the most adorable way as he suddenly becomes aware of his surroundings.

“I have a house? Is that where he’s taken Ellie off to?”

“C’mon, follow me.” With a wave of your hand, you’re headed down the street. Joel stands frozen in disbelief for a moment, utterly dumbfounded that you’re really here and really still want him the way you used to. He has to jog the few steps to catch up to your side, and then every ounce of effort goes into not grabbing your hand and lacing his fingers with yours.

You clear your throat in preparation for the question you have to ask. “I… I swear I don’t want to push labels or anything, but… what exactly is going on here?”

Joel sighs, and it’s easy to mistake it as a sigh of annoyance. You open your mouth to expand on your question, but he stops you.

”I made a mistake. I know it, I knew it while I was makin’ it. But I didn’t stop myself because… because you deserve better.”

You open your mouth again, and he holds up a hand to stop you. “Don’t argue. You know it’s true. And the thing is… I’ve spent a lot of time bein’ selfish, if fightin’ to survive can be called that. You’re good, and I don’t deserve to be selfish when it comes to you.”

”I want you to be selfish,” you insist as firmly as you can. “Joel, you don’t seem to understand how much I adore you, how much I rely on you. How much it hurt to lose you.”

He tries to shrug, but it’s half-hearted. There’s a kind of sick satisfaction to the fact that you were struggling just as much as he was. ”You seemed fine.”

”I was dying, Joel.” There are tears in your eyes now, and he feels guilty for insinuating that your pain wasn’t real.

”I was, too.”

”I just wish you would’ve talked to me,” you whisper. “I could’ve made it better. Things could’ve been different.”

”But they aren’t.” His tone is firm, but not malicious. He’s not trying to be mean—all he wants is for you to understand that there’s no point dwelling on the past. It’s something he’s learned over twenty years; that no matter how hard to focuses on all the mistakes he’s made and the things he regrets, there’s no way to undo any of them. No point in focusing on them at all, really.

”I… I miss you,” you tell him. “I don’t wanna keep going to bed alone and waking up wishing you were there. I don’t want to pretend we’re just friends with benefits or whatever the fuck we were supposed to have been. I don’t want to lose you over any more stupid arguments. I loved you, Joel. I still do.”

Joel swallows thickly. He’s known for a long time how he feels, and he also knows he doesn’t deserve to feel the way he does. Telling you might be the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. ”I love you too.”

”Then can we… stop being stupid?” There’s a giggle behind your tears, and it brings the smallest of smiles to his face.

”Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” He kisses you again, pausing on the steps of the house he’s supposed to occupy so he can pull you tightly into his arms. This one is sweeter, almost like a promise. Like he’s going to be a new man and this is his seal of authentication.

He scoops you up in his arms despite your squeal of protest, barely pausing enough to read the note on the door.

Took Ellie on a grand tour. We’ll meet y’all at dinner. - Tommy

You glance at your watch, then look up into his eyes. He’s thinking exactly what you are; his dark eyes are burning with tension. ”A whole hour of pure uninterrupted bliss. What’re we gonna do with ourselves?”

”I’ve got a couple ideas,” Joel grunts as he pushes the door open with his back, careful not to jostle you too much. “Startin’ with makin’ up for lost time.”

This time, he kisses you like you’re unbreakable. Like he’s diamond and testing your hardness, and you’re determined to meet his standards. You meet his lips with ferocity and take the initiative to slide your tongue over his bottom lip, reveling in the slight uptilt of his lips as he parts them for you.

You’re still in tune to his reactions, even after so long. You still know exactly where to pull his hair to make his hips buck towards you, where to kiss his neck to make him moan, where to place your hands so he’ll pull you impossibly tighter against him. He’s a puzzle you solved long ago, and even after taking the pieces apart you know where to put them back together again.

Joel’s head is all but spinning as he pulls you deeper inside, ignoring the urge to explore the unfamiliar surroundings for now in favor of finding a place that’s suitable to take you. He’s feverish and hurried, far from gentle because he knows he doesn’t need to be. You’re taking everything he’ll give and more. Later, there will be time for the gentle love-making that he admittedly prefers sometimes. For now, it’s desperate, wild, overwhelming in the best way possible. It’s getting reacquainted after so much time apart—old lovers using old tricks.

His hands have gotten rougher and even more calloused, but they remember you like it’s only been days since they were last on you. His palms trace every curve like you’re precious art. He holds you like water, like the slightest mishandle will send you spilling away from him; in complete contrast to the way he kisses you, harsh and nearly biting. It fogs your mind, sends you into autopilot. Your muscle memory takes command as you strip him bare and toss his clothes to the side, appreciating how little he’s changed besides the length of his hair and the extra gray that’s sprouted. He’s still your Joel, even after being apart for what seems like a lifetime.

”I never appreciated you enough,” he whispers into your neck as he unhooks your bra with a snap of his fingers. “Never worshiped you the way I should’ve.”

”I’m not a god,” you tell him, breath heavy even after parting from his lips.

”You are to me,” he mumbles into your skin, contrasting the honeyed praise with a stinging bite to the precise spot that makes your back arch.

He trails gentler bites down the flesh of your torso, leaving marks that contrast his statement. Gods aren’t meant to be owned, and yet he claims you in every way he can. He lays on you any little trace of his possession he can, because he knows how easily it could be taken away from him. He lost you once before, marks faded from your skin completely. He doesn’t ever want it to happen again.

The scent of you is heady, mouth-watering to a mind that was so sure it would never have you again. He knows he’s pressed for time, and he really does consider taking all of it to drink from you; to get his fill and leave himself unsatisfied if he has to.

But you’re whining and squirming, tugging at his hair in a feeble attempt to pull him up to you, and he knows he’d much rather give you what you want.

You’re wet enough to take him, but it’s still nearly painful when he pushes his full length into you for the first time in so long. He growls at the sensation, at every little pulse and flutter of your cunt around him as you struggle to accommodate him.

Your breath is airy and whiny as you glance up at him. ”Joel…”

”I know baby,” he coos, fighting for restraint so he doesn’t hurt you. “I know it’s a lot. But you can take it pretty girl, can’t you?”

You would take literally anything so long as he keeps talking to you like that.

You nod up at him, but it’s not enough.

”Words, honey. Tell me you can take me.”

He doesn’t miss the way your cunt contracts around him as you vow, “I can take you, Joel.”

”Atta girl.”

He starts off easy, slow enough not to overwhelm you but deep enough to nearly make you choke. His hips are flush with your ass at the base of every stroke, like he’s trying to push even further with each thrust of his hips. Maybe he is. Maybe all he wants is to get deeper and deeper until there’s nothing left out—until you’ve consumed him completely. He already feels halfway there as it is.

Your legs wrap around his waist in a desperate attempt to que him in on what you need—not long, languid strokes but hard, fast thrusts that’ll get the job done quickly. There is a time constraint to factor in, after all.

He grants your wish instantly, glad for the invitation because he’s finding it hard to continue his facade of self-control. He ruts hard and fiercely, one hand trailing from your waist to your knee so he can prop your leg up and allow an even deeper angle.

With the slightest shift of his hips he finds it—the spot that makes you writhe and scream for more. He revels in all the noises you make for him as you toss your head back and forth, like the pleasure is so overwhelming that you want to squirm away yet press closer simultaneously.

“That’s my girl,” he mumbles as his free hand finds its way between your entangled bodies. It’s almost like you’re magnetic, his fingers find your clit so easily. The small, firm circles he rubs against it with his calloused fingers are almost too much, but also almost not enough. Not until he picks up his pace, drilling into exactly where you need him with a fervor you didn’t even know he possessed.

It takes all the effort you can muster to warn him, ”S-so close…”

”I know sweetie,” he purrs, breath heavy against your ear as he shifts his hand to hitch your leg just the slightest bit higher over his hip. “It’s okay. Let go f’me.”

You’re nothing if not obedient, and Joel knows it. It’s only confirmed by the way you squeeze around him in a vice grip, legs shaking in his grip as your eyes practically roll back in your head. It’s bone-shattering pleasure, like he’s pulling you apart stitch by stitch and sewing you back together again with newer, more pleasurable fabric.

He’s quick to pull out, maybe a little prematurely as you’re still twitching with the aftershocks of your own orgasm, but even his pleasure-addled brain knows the risk he runs if he stays buried deep inside you any longer. He gives himself two, three firm strokes, then allows himself to spill over your stomach in thick, hot ropes that make you moan all over again.

He doesn’t hold himself up much longer before collapsing on the too-soft mattress with a heavy grunt.

”Missed this,” you murmur next to his ear as he drapes an arm over your waist. He pulls you in close and hums at the way you nuzzle your face into his neck despite how sweaty he must be.

“How much time we got left?”

You take a peek at your watch, then groan. “Five minutes.”

”Shit.” He’s not ready to let you go yet, but he pushes himself up to sit on the edge of the bed anyway.

”We could just skip dinner,” you suggest with a hopeful pout to your lips as you stretch out further over the floral bedspread.

As much as he wants to… “Can’t. Gotta grab Ellie. Can’t leave her alone all day.”

”You must really care about her.” There’s no malice to your tone—it’s more surprise.

He simply grunts in response—he’ll never admit it, but he can’t deny it either. “C’mon. Clothes on.”

He gathers the pile from the floor and tosses it to you, practically burying you where you lay.

”Forgot how bossy you are,” you grumble but follow the instruction nevertheless.

It’s a little awkward, sitting across the table from your lover’s family like your legs aren’t still a little weak from being so thoroughly fucked. But Joel’s hand is a constant on your thigh, and you even catch him smirking a little as Ellie grills you with a million questions—mostly about your relationship with Joel.

For once, everything feels normal. For once, you forget about the crumbling world around you. In this bubble with Joel, everything is stable and secure. There’s a future on the horizon and a chance to write your own story.

You drag Joel back home at the soonest opportunity, patiently biding your time while he settles Ellie in for the night. You hear heated conversation bordering on an argument, but he doesn’t say anything about it when he enters the room for the night.

Instead he drags you to him in a heated kiss, his large hands practically engulfing your face as his tongue sweeps into your mouth to re-familiarize himself with known yet long-unexplored territory.

He hates having to tamp down your moans, but he loves being able to swallow them with his own mouth as his fingers trace through your slick folds. You’re still puffy, wet, and sensitive from his earlier onslaught, but it doesn’t deter you one bit. He revels in each little whimper and gasp, all the involuntary squirms and twitches as he brings you to the brink on his thick, calloused fingers. He swallows every little sound with a fevered kiss until your lips are swollen and red—and then you turn the tables on him. You take him in your palm, whispering praises about how your hand can barely close around him while stroking him with the gentle, languid movements that you know drive him crazy. He fights to keep his sounds down as you settle close in his lap, chest pressed to his and legs locked tight around his thighs until the moment he has to pull your hand away from fear of finishing too fast.

This is the exact foil of the way he fucked you earlier in a frenzied, desperate passion. Now it’s soft and languid, more like searching and exploring than trying to find the end goal. It’s hot and sweaty and sticky from where your skin is pressed so tightly against his, but his strong hands only drag you closer and closer and you really don’t even consider pulling away—not when he gently tugs your hair to tilt your head back for a deeper kiss, not when he lifts you up so effortlessly to help you sink down on his achingly hard cock, not even when his hands squeeze your hips hard enough to leave bruises at the feeling of bottoming out in your soaked cunt.

You couldn’t count the minutes you’re on top of him even if you cared to try. It’s an eternity of softly rocking hips and open-mouthed kisses, like if he breathes air from anywhere besides your lungs it’ll poison him. He doesn’t even care that it practically feels like torture—like not enough but simultaneously far too much as you do nothing more than rock on his length. It takes a lifetime before he loses his patience and anchors your hips in his capable hands so he can fuck you properly. He guides you to bounce on him, hitting deeper with each perfectly matched upward thrust of his own hips.

You’re falling apart before you even know what’s hit you, biting your lip almost to the point of drawing blood to keep your sounds under control as you fall limp in his arms.

And Joel—sweet, sweet Joel—has the foresight to check in with you before he does what he has to.

”Good, baby? Feel okay? Wanna stop?”

You shake your head, and it takes you a moment to find breath enough to tell him, “Don’t stop. Come in me.”

The demand is so unexpected that it hits him like a tidal wave—and before he knows it, his cock is twitching with forceful spasms as he paints you from the inside out until you’re dripping his spend out around his softening length.

Evidently, you’re not the only one caught up in this bubble of paradise within the walls of Jackson.

He doesn’t say anything, just rolls onto his side so he can hold you closer without his cock slipping from your warmth. That’s exactly how you fall asleep—him snuggly inside you, kissing your hair and whispering the sweetest of nothings into your ear.

When you wake up, you feel empty in more ways than one.

There’s dust particles swirling in the sunbeam streaming through the far window, and your stomach sinks when you reach over and feel Joel’s side of the bed completely cold.

You try not to jump to conclusions, but you know exactly what you’ll find even before you read the note left on the nightstand.

Easier not to say goodbye. I promised I’d take Ellie to the Fireflies, and you know I always make good on my promises.

I promise I’ll come back for you.

Joel

It’s not a promise that he can make with complete certainty, and you know it. You’re sure he knew it, too; and yet he did it anyway, promised you the impossible.

You remember far too suddenly that there’s risks involved with literally anything done in this crumbling, broken world—and just like that, the perfect little bubble you’ve lived in for the past sixteen hours has popped. There’s no fairytale endings here, no happily ever afters.

There’s you, alone and aching, hoping beyond hope the man you love will return to your side.

And there’s Joel, out in the wilderness somewhere, wondering if he’s even worthy of returning to your side.

Maybe he’s not. But maybe making good on this promise—dropping Ellie off so they can find a cure—will tip his scales. Maybe he’ll be worthy of finally settling down with you the way he wants to after this one last job. He knows he’ll have to spend hours upon hours apologizing to you for it, but it would be worth it to know that he finally made the world at least a little bit better rather than worse—to know that he’s finally done something for you to be proud of.

He knows he has to prove himself one way or another before he can return to your side. And he will.

After all, Joel Miller is a man who always makes good on his promises.

THE END

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