#sad man drinking beer hours

[mithrandirl]

Tonight we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country. Hail the victorious dead!

[luvyeni]

❛TAMING THE PILLOW PRINCESS❜ ( n. jaemin )

p. boyfriend!na jaemin x fem!reader w. 1.8k+

warnings? oral ( m. receiving ), uprotected sex, sorta mean dom jaemin (he's such a softie it's hard), a little degradation, breeding kink (?)

— 𖦹 ( you used be such a good girl for him, but thats okay jaemin will fix it ) !

“Come home.” You spoke through the phone. “baby im with the guys I told you I wanted to hang out with them for a while.” Jaemin said, but you could care less. “i don’t care, I want you home now.”

“Ba— come home or you’ll sleep on the couch for a week." Before he could speak up you said something else. “and no sex!” you hung up in his face— he sighed, putting his phone away, he friends already looking at him, your voice was loud enough for them to hear the entire thing. “don’t say anything.” He rubbed his temples.

“jaemin, man I love you and I don’t know how to say this but.” Jeno said. “your girlfriend is a bitch.” Haechan finished. “haechan.” Renjun said, jaemin shook his head, ready to defend you. “she’s just really needy you know?” he said. “she needs attention, it’s okay I don’t mind.”

“she’s also rude as hell, constantly nagging and yelling at you over stupid shit, spending all your money, i could go on.” Haechan said, jaemin sighed. Jaemin loved you, he did — but even he had to admit his friend was right, you were a nightmare dressed in pink.

“does she even you know?” jeno trailed off. “you know give it up?” he said. “sex? of course we have sex.” He said. “does she go down on you?” renjun asked, jaemin tried to remember the last time you did, cringing. “she really isn’t  that good at it, but id rather give than receive.”

“and you go down on her?” jeno said. “I do most of the work, so what?” jaemin said. “that’s your problem, you’ve created a pillow princess with a bratty attitude, and now you don’t know how to handle her anymore.” Jeno said. “I know how to handle my girlfriend.” He said, feeling a bit defensive now that it was finally laid out for him. “do you really?”

That sentence stayed with him all the way home — your attitude was getting worse day by day, and he stayed passive, letting you do what you want,  as long as you were happy, even though it made him miserable— he wasn’t getting sad, he was getting pissed, speeding on the gas all the way home.

You scoffed looking at the time, he was 2 hours late. “im gonna kill him.” you got up out of bed, only in your underwear and a flimsy tank top , making your way into the kitchen to get a drink, opening the fridge — your eyes sat on the last can of jaemins beer, you smirked grabbing the can, opening taking a sip. “serves him right.” You didn’t even like beer, you just wanted to piss him off , knowing he wouldn’t do anything but smile and tell you it would be okay.

Leaving the can on the counter, knowing it will piss him off as well, turning to go back in the room, when the front door open, your boyfriend walked in. you rolled your eyes, he looked at you,  then over by the counter, noticing the beer. “that was my last one.

“So?” you shrugged walking back to the room, the cats following behind you. “why didn’t you throw away the can?” you ignored him, he followed behind you. “you know I hate when you leave the cans on the counter.”

“well go pick it up and throw it away.” You picked up a pillow, throwing at his chest. “you go sleep on the couch while you’re at it.” He looked down at the pillow then back at you, anger boiling up inside him. “go.” You said turning on your side, no longer facing him.

“im not staying on the couch.” He said you scoffed. “well you aren’t staying in here, so sleep in the hall for all i care.” jaemin saw red, and before he could even notice it was like his arms and legs were moving for him — and he was sitting on the bed, you shot up ready to yell.  “I said get the fuc—” he your words were cut short by jaemins hand wrapping around your throat.

“Listen here.” He said, his eyes dark, not like how you’re used to. “i've had it up to here with your bitchy attitude.” He seethed. “letting you walk all over me, you don’t have to do shit, i let you sit here in the apartment i pay for all day and do nothing, while i go out and work my ass off so you can spend my money on your unnecessary shit and how do you repay me?” he squeezed. “by being a bitch.”

You couldn’t say anything, not because you couldn’t due to him choking you, but because you were speechless, he never spoke to you like that — so mean and with hatred in his eyes — it was kind of turning you on. “jae— did i say you could speak?” he said. “that’s your problem, you don’t listen.”

“i've been spoiling you too much, letting you get away with everything.” He kissed his teeth. “that shit stops today.” Before you could say anything he was tossing you over his lap. “i want you to count.” He whispered in your ear. “wh-ouch!” you yelped upon feeling his hand come down on your ass. “fuck that hurts.” You cursed. “good, it’s supposed to.” another slapped made you jolt. “now count.”

“jae– shit!” you cursed as he didn’t let you get your words out, slapping your ass. “one!” you shouted. “good again “ he repeated. “tw-two.” He kept repeating his abuse on your ass, tears wielding in your eyes as you counted all the way until his desired number.

“Good.” He rubbed your sore cheeks. “you actually listened for once.” He grabbed your hair — yanking your hair back roughly, looking you in the eyes “get down on your knees.”

You sat in between his legs, your knees digging into the rug sure to leave them red — your face close to his hard on. “im always going down in you, bout time you give me something in return.” He unbuckled his pants, pushing them down to his ankles. “gonna suck me off real good.” He pulled his cock from his underwear, stroking himself off, his cock dripping with pre-cum from his tip on to your pouty lips.

You hadn’t done this in a while, jaemin always doted on you, so you probably only did it a few times in the early stages of your relationship after a while he just ended up saying it was fine. “go on.” he held the base of his cock tapping it on your lips. “put it in your mouth.”

You slowly sunk down on his cock, he groaned out throwing his head back, his hand resting on the bed, the other in your head. “you’re still just as bad.” Your eyes widening, as he pushed your head all the way down. “it’s like you’re not even trying.” The more he talked to you like that the more turned on you became, your panties sticking uncomfortably to your cunt. “have to do everything.”

He used your hair, guiding you up and down his shaft. “there you go, slowly.” he cursed under his breath. “use your tongue.” he hissed. “i said your tongue, not your teeth — are you dumb baby?” you moaned around his cock. “of course you like being degraded -fuck- i guess i assumed you liked being treated like a princess.”

He pulled you off him, slapping his cock against your lips. “that’s enough — want you now.” you went to lay down like you normally did but he stopped you. “no, it’s not about you tonight.” he laid back against the headboard. “tonight i want you to ride me, i want you to work for it.”

You’ve never ridden anyone, all of them doing the work for you. “i-i.” he picked you, making you straddle his lap. “i'll jerk off right now in front of you and you won’t get anything, if you want to cum, you ride me.” You were desperate to cum, biting your lip — grabbing the base of his cock, hovering above you. “sit.”

He pushed you down, his cock filling you up, you moaned out, holding yourself up by his chest. “jae-jaemin.” you moaned. “now move.” he commanded, you rocked your hips sloppily. “do it right.” He slapped your ass. “i-i c-cant.” you sobbed. “try.” He said deciding to help you just a bit, grabbed your hips rocking you back and forth. “fu-fuck just like that.” He let your waist go, leaving you on your own again.

It just wasn’t enough, you needed him. “jaemin.” You whined. “i-i need you.” He smirked. “yeah.” His hips bucking up. “why should i help you when -fuck- when all you’ve been is a bitch to me?” he grunted, slowly loosing his mind, wanting nothing more than to flip you over and fuck you like he’s used to. “why should i help you.”

“i-im so-sorry.” You stuttered. “i'll be good, i promise.” You sounded so pretty, begging like that. “you will?” he grunted. “no more being mean, and rude?” you nodded, promising him through tears. “i-i promise.”

He flipped you over,  pushing his cock deep into your cunt. “shit!” you screamed as he plowed into you, wrapping your leg around his waist. “shit that’s it.” he moaned. “be a good girl and take my cock.” You grabbed his bicep, eyes rolling to back of your head.

“that’s all you needed, to be fucked back into submission right?” he said grabbing your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. “you’re gonna be my good girl again if i let you cum.” You nodded dumbly. “words.” he said, thrusting deeply inside you,  hitting that gummy spot. “ye-yes i promise.” You felt it coming all you was his word.

“cum.”

Your mouth dropped out, eyes rolling to back of your head as you came with a loud gasp of jaemins name, your head feeling deeper into a subspace as he fucked you through your orgasm. “pretty girl -fuck- gonna cum inside your pretty cunt okay?” you nodded. “pl-please cum inside me.”

His thrust began to falter as he came, his cum pouring into your cunt. “good girl.” He looked at your fucked out face. “there’s my good girl.”

He pulled out of your cunt, watching his cum leaking out of you, laying next to you, caressing the side of your face . “im sorry.” You pouted. “for being such a bitch.”

“it’s okay princess, i still love you and I still want to take care of my precious baby.” He kissed your temple. “just be nicer to me baby.” He said. “as long as you don’t make me ride you anymore.” He laughed. “I don’t ever want to do that again.” He nodded. “I won’t baby.”

“you’ll always be my pretty pillow princess.”

©️LUVYENI

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

If you're comfortable with doing smut, can you do a yan! best friend fic where reader says one night "I'm still a virgin" (yk because he never lets them go out) so he almost immediately changes that.

Will oblige <3

(Reader) cracked open another beer, a small frown on their tipsy face as they sat on their living room floor.

Not three hours earlier, (Reader) had been excitedly trying to sneak out of work after clocking off, hoping to do so without being caught by their best friend. (Reader) had seen their best friend getting chewed out by their management, so a small (not so) guilty part of them hoped that he would be stuck staying late to make up for whatever it was that he had done wrong. But as (Reader) silently clocked off, Max's voice right behind them startled (Reader) so bad they released a squeak.

"Why do you look so guilty?" He had meant it as a joke, but (Reader's) uncomfortable attempt at a smile caught him off guard.

"Heyyy.. I thought you were working late?"

"No? Why would I be?"

(Reader) swallowed hard, a tight smile still twitching on their lips. "Ah, the stars told me so! I knew astrology was a sham!" They replied sarcastically, unable to contain their annoyance.

"Is everything okay, (Reader)?" Max asked in a concerned tone, leaning in to better read (Reader's) expressions.

"I was just... hoping to go out drinking tonight. I was pretty excited to get home quickly and get changed."

Max's concern melted into another happy smile. "Oh, that sounds like fun!"

"Really?!" (Reader) was sure that Max would lecture them on the dangers of public drinking, or the disturbing hygiene levels of pubs, which is why they wanted to sneak out in the first place. Max was an amazing friend. An understanding, ride-or-die kind of man, (Reader's) sidekick since middle school, extremely hot, and the only person (Reader) felt they could trust with (almost) any secret.

There was only one problem..

Max was controlling. He was never mean about it, and (Reader) never felt like their friendship was abusive, but he was so nervous about everything that (Reader) didn't have much of a social life outside of work and it was starting to drive them crazy. He even moved in to the apartment right next to (Reader) so that whenever they tried to go out without him, he always knew.

"Of course! Why don't you start heading home, and I'll go pick up some beers?"

(Reader's) heart sunk. "S-sounds good.." they feebly attempted to appear pumped, smiling while raising a fist.

Which is why (Reader) was now in their comfortable pajamas getting drunk on the floor in front of their couch, increasingly becoming more and more frustrated while their best friend watched TV, oblivious to (Reader's) bubbling anger.

The dumb comedy made Max chuckle, the booze turning him silly. Usually it was contagious, but at that moment his laughter grated on (Reader's) nerves.

Max finally got the hint that (Reader) might be upset when they loudly crushed their empty can in irritation. "What's going on down there, (Nickname)?"

"I wanted to drink at a bar." (Reader) grumbled, reaching for another drink.

"What? Why?" Max asked, honestly confused as to where this was coming from. "Bars aren't safe, especially for cute people like you. Do you know how many people only go to bars to try and take home drunk people?"

His words snapped (Reader's) patience. "That's what I was going for."

"What?!"

(Reader) jumped to their feet, exasperated. "Oh my GOD, Max. I have needs! I want to fuck, Max, I. Want. To. Fuck." They ran their hands through their hair, leaving Max shell shocked and bright red. "It's getting pathetic, like, really sad. I can't even masturbate, because I'm afraid you'll hear me through the walls."

They collapsed back onto their ass, hands covering their heated eyes.

"You've chased away everyone I've ever had a crush on. I've never had a real relationship. I'm still a virgin. I just wanted to go out and have fun..." (Reader) whined, almost on the verge of tears.

Max slinked off the couch towards (Reader's) curled up form, gently prying (Reader's) hands away from their eyes. "Why didn't you ever consider me?"

"What?" (Reader) pulled away, falling back onto their elbows as Max continued crawling over them.

"I spent so many years praying you would look at me like a man instead of just as your friend. If you were so pent up, why didn't you ever turn to me?"

(Reader) flushed, their dumb little drunk mind having difficulty understanding what Max was trying to say. "Y-you're only saying that because you're drunk." They stuttered, the feeling of their friend's breath tickling their lips making them squeeze their thighs shut instinctively.

"Do you remember, when we were in highschool, and you told me that you liked Robin? That less than average looking basketball player?" Max leaned in, trapping (Reader) with his arms as one knee forced apart their legs, pressing against their crotch. "Do you remember how hard I worked to constantly keep you two apart?"

(Reader) bit their lip to contain a moan. Why were they so turned on right now? They tried to convince themselves it was the alcohol, but the scent of Max's favorite aftershave was making them quiver.

"There's nothing embarrassing about being a virgin, (Reader).." Max tugged on their ear lobe with his teeth, "but if you want, I'll gladly take it for you."

Despite his words of consent, Max's lips were on (Reader's) before they could answer, hungry and dominating, tasting every corner of their mouth while he rubbed his knee against (Reader's) fully aroused sex.

Pulling back, Max smirked at the blushing mess under him, wiping some of (Reader's) saliva off his lip with his thumb. "I never wanted to be your friend." He pulled off his shirt, while smiling almost teasingly.

'This isn't like Max...' (Reader's) half gone mind puzzled. It was like he was possessed.

"Do you know how painful it was, being in love with someone as oblivious as you? How many times you would invite me to sleepovers, and I would spend the entire night watching you sleep?"

His large hands reached down to his zipper, drawing (Reader's) attention to the noticable bulge straining against his pants. "I wanted our first time together to be after you finally fell for me, but..." he pulled down the zipper, and released his erect cock out over the top of his boxers. "... I have the rest of our lives to make you love me."

(Reader's) eyes widened at the size. They hadn't seen a dick that big in real life before, their only frame of reference for erections being in porn. "I don't think that'll fit." They spoke quietly, almost in a whisper.

Max smiled wider, his eyes almost watering with how hot they had become. "It will if you make sure it's wet enough." And for the first time that night, (Reader) understood what Max was saying. They sat up, nervously bringing their face closer towards Max's exposed dick. With experimental touches, their fingers danced along his shaft. At first they were scared that in their drunkenness they couldn't make Max feel good, but soon what little was left of their mind was overcome by desire. (Reader) kissed the tip before thrusting Max's cock as deep into their throat as it could reach. They had imagined themselves doing this so many times that (Reader) thought they knew what to do, but the smell and taste, the building yearning in their groin, and his pleasured moans... There was so much happening all at once that it made it hard to focus on just sucking him off.

(Reader) looked up into Max's eyes, searching for approval, searching for a sign that they were doing a good job. Apparently looking up was the right thing to do, because Max cried out suddenly and pulled himself out of (Reader's) mouth. "God, you're so cute! I can't hold it anymore, (Reader)..."

Max stood to remove his clothes entirely, before getting back on his knees to tear off (Reader's) pajamas. As their pants came off, it was received that they hadn't been wearing any sort of undergarments, which made Max pause, eyes widening and scarlet face deepening.

"Is.. is something wrong?" (Reader) asked fearfully.

"You're more beautiful than I imagined."

As (Reader) soaked in his words, Max was already positioning his drool lubricated member against (Reader's) hole.

He slowly entered his best friend, and laughed as he felt their body swallow him up. "God, you have no idea how long I've wanted to do this!" The second he was fully submerged he began fucking (Reader) hard and fast, unable to hold himself back, especially when their pleased gasps and cries of pleasure sang from their lips unconstrained. (Reader) clawed at Max's back, not knowing where to put their hands but needing to touch him everywhere.

"Fuck, you look so sexy right now. I love you so much, (Reader)."

(Reader) felt their walls subconsciously constrict at Max's words. They thought about every single time they had ever noticed how attractive he was, and how they would chastise themselves for thinking about their best friend that way.

"I love you too."

Max leaned back, pulling (Reader) up with them as he continued pumping in and out of (Reader) like a machine. "Say it again."

Something was getting tighter in (Reader's) stomach, and they felt like it was going to pop.

"I love you too!"

Max's speed picked up, like a desperate animal. "Again."

"I love you, Max!"

A hot feeling spread throughout (Reader's) insides as Max came inside them, his thick cum triggering their own orgasm.

His hold on (Reader) did not loosen, keeping his grip cemented as though they would disappear if he let go. Even after (Reader) passed out he didn't pull out, simply lying back with (Reader) now on his stomach. Max finally had them, the person he had been head over heels for for the past decade. And as he fell asleep what replayed in his now sober mind wasn't how (Reader's) body felt on his, but their words, echoing on loop in his mind.

"I love you too!"

[eddiemunsons-missingnipple]

Just imagining what it would be like for you and Eddie to both drunk and looking for each other. You don't realize you've been talking to one another the whole time.

Steve's party had been going on now practically all night. You and Eddie arrived hours ago, and now you can't seem to find each other. He went off with his friends, and so did you. You mingled and stayed close together when you first got there. But soon, you unintentionally drifted away the drunker you got.

Your face was tingling, and your head felt so heavy. Your whole body just wasn't corporating. Your limbs felt like they were in a constant battle to keep you standing or even walking straight. You kept calling out for Eddie.

You wanted to go home but knew he wasn't driving. Not in the condition he was probably in. He got drunk way before you did. You saw him throwing back shot after shot. Then chasing it down with his favorite beer, a pbr. The thought of the taste is already making you gag. He was a lightweight no matter how much he tried arguing against it.

You were stumbling and kept calling for your boyfriend. "Eddie!"

You even grabbed some random dude just because he had longish hair. He was definitely not your Eddie. You made a face of diagust and mumbled "ew" under your breath when the guy turned around.

The party kept getting louder the drunker you became. Everyone kinda started looking a like. Your vision was nothing but a blur. You even confused Nancy for Steve at one point. All because she had on his jacket.

The funny thing is that she never even bothered to correct you. If it wasn't for Robin speaking up to tell you, it was actually Nancy you were talking to. You would still be calling her Steve the rest of the time.

The killer hangover you're destined to have in the morning made you wish you never started drinking tonight. Too late. You knew you were screwed by the fifth shot of tequila. You and Eddie were going to be in misery.

You stumble again and flop down on the couch next to someone. A man who you really can't even focus on any distinctive features. He's just there slumped back with his legs spread open holding a candle that he assumed was his beer can.

You may be drunk off your ass but not drunk enough to mistake a candle for a can of beer. You look over, and he's nothing but a blurry figure to you. You blink and blink, trying to figure out who he is. Your drunkened mind comes up with nothing. He is another stranger to you. Little did you know that's actually your boyfriend. Who you have been on the hunt for all night long.

You heard him mumbling something in coherent over and over again.

"What you say?" You slurred.

He burped before repeating. "I said you have seen my girlfriend? She's cute. You can't miss her."

"Oh no havent seen her...m'lookin for my boyfriend actually. He's a nerd you can't miss'em" you giggled and sat up a little.

"Haven't seen any nerds around." Eddie quipped and went to take a drink from the candle.

He made a face when nothing went into his mouth. He still has yet to notice his actual beer is on the table.

"Been lookin' for her all night. I even cried at the beer keg." He sounded like he was about to cry again. "Guys out there forced me to come sit down to calm myself."

You put your hand on his shoulder to comfort him. He sounded so sad you couldn't help but feel bad for him. "She's around here somewhere."

"My boyfriend is missing too, startin' to think he's in a bush passed out." You rubbed your eyes and laid back against the couch.

Eddie snorts and goes in his pocket to grab his pack of cigarettes.

"All I know is when I find that little shit I can pass out in peace." He slurred and practically ripped open his pack of cigarettes to get one out.

"Yeah, me too-- When I find my boyfriend, I'm passing out too." You hiccuped, and your eyes slowly got heavier. The party started to die down a lot. People were falling asleep or walking home.

"When you'd get here?" Eddie turned to face you. "Been lookin' for you all night!"

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

Comfort Crowd

main masterlist | supernatural masterlist

summary: dean just needs you next to him

pairing: (stanford era) dean winchester x female reader

rating: R for language 

word count: 1.9k

warnings: hurt/sad dean, language, reader drives after drinking but she’s not drunk, that’s it i think

author’s note: i know this gif is of jason teague and not dean winchester but that’s literally samford era jackles so i think it fits perfectly <3

music: comfort crowd by conan gray — was listening to conan gray and bam! dean winchester fic idea! anyways…

When you saw who was calling your brows furrowed — Dean? You had talked to him earlier in the week, just a casual check-in to make sure you were both still alive. You and Dean had gotten into a fight about a month prior and you both decided to just take a break from each other. You had made it clear that you were not breaking up with him, you just needed a break.

Last time you talked he was working a case in Texas, something with ghouls and sororities. You had just finished up a werewolf hunt and he had voiced his jealousy. He hadn’t gotten to fight a werewolf in many, many moons (pun intended).

“Dean?” you answered the call, still holding your first beer of the night in your free hand. He didn’t say anything, there was only labored breathing on the other side and that worried you. “Dean? Honey, is everything okay?” He still said nothing. “Dean, what’s—”

“Where are you?” he asked. His voice was clearly on the verge of cracking. He’d been crying?

“Uh, Bakersfield California,” you told him. “Just finished another case, simple ghost hunt. What’s wrong, Dean?” He again went back to just breathing. “Dean, where are you?”

“I’m in Palo Alto,” he said. “You—Could you get up here, p-please? I need you, hun. I just—I need you here.”

“I’ll be right there Dean, four hours tops,” you told him. You stood up off your chair and paid your tab. “Talk to me, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t…fuck, I just wanna see you…please?”

“Of course, Dean, I’ll be there soon,” you reminded him. “What motel are you staying at?”

“I can text you the address just please…please hurry.”

With that, he hung up. 

Please don’t be dying, you thought to yourself. 

**

After several traffic violations and broken speed limits, you were finally knocking on his door.

“Dean!” you called out, not caring if it was now nearly three in the morning and there were definitely other people staying at the motel. “For the love of god Dean, open the fucking door!”

He unlocked and opened the door, rubbing his tired eyes. “Hey, you made it.” He smiled a little…smiled?

“Dean what the hell is going on?” you asked, trying to stay calm as you walked into the room. “You—That call? What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged, “I’m fine.”

“Fine?” You furrowed your brows. “Dean you called me in tears and asked me to race over here as if you were dying?”

“I…I wasn’t in tears,” he mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Hang on…how do I know you’re you?” you asked. 

He smiled and rolled his eyes a little before you both did the usual tests.

“See, sweetheart? All me!” He smiled again.

“Dean,” you said softly, “what’s going on? Are you…Are you dying?”

“No!” he scoffed, not calming your nerves in the slightest. “I’m sorry I scared you I just…needed you here. With me, next to me. I—Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Dean,” you shook your head, “I get it.”

You walked over to him and pulled him down into a hug; your right hand went to the back of his head as your fingers combed through his hair. 

“I’m here Dean, you’re okay,” you told him. His grip tightened around you, as if he was scared you’d break off the hug. “I’m right here.”

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice cracking again. “Thank you.” 

The two of you stayed like that for what felt like an eternity. You were on your tiptoes, which was kind of uncomfortable, but your love for the man in your arms outweighed any discomfort. You felt Dean’s tears begin to dampen your neck and your eyes grew cloudy at the thought of him in pain. He truly mastered the art of silent crying, he must’ve had to hide his tears from that bastard father of his growing up, and that thought only made your heart break more. Your grip tightened around his shoulders and you turned your head so you could place a soft kiss on his temple. You made a trail of kisses down to his jawline then left your lips there against his skin. 

“Thank you,” he pulled away, “just…thanks.”

“Do you wanna lay down, Dean?” you asked. “We could cuddle up and maybe watch a movie? Or we could listen to music? I’ve got my iPod and we could share my earbuds?”

A soft smile returned to his tear-stained face and he nodded; “Music sounds perfect.”

“Mkay,” you replied. “Now, I have to admit I don’t have many Zeppelin songs downloaded—”

“It’s okay,” he shook his head, “I don’t care what song we play, as long…as long as you’re here. Just need your company.”

“Funnily enough, I do have some Bad Company songs,” you joked, causing his smile to grow. 

“You’re the best company,” he countered. 

“Why don’t you change into your PJs while I go get my bags from the car? We can get comfortable in the bed and maybe you’ll even get some sleep.”

**

Your fingers were once again tangled in Dean’s hair as his head lay on your chest, he was facing away from you but you knew he was still crying. You just didn’t know why.

“Is this Heuy Lewis?” Dean chuckled.

“Hey! No disrespecting Heuy!” you laughed, but Dean knew you were serious. “You want me to skip it?”

“Nah, I’ll live,” he joked. The joke made your heart clench a little though; your mind going back to the call he made to you a mere few hours ago. How scared he sounded. How scared you were as you raced to get to him. Dean must’ve sensed the change in the room because he made sure to remind you; “I’m fine.”

“You said that line already, Dean,” you said through a sigh. “I’m here if you wanna talk, okay?”

“I don’t wanna talk,” he mumbled. “I meant what I said—I just need you here with me, I just need you around.” 

Your free hand (the one that wasn’t currently in Dean’s hair) went to rub comforting circles on his upper back. He let out a contented sigh which made you smile.

“I love you, Dean,” you told him. “I love you more than anything, you know that, right?”

“Thank you,” he mumbled. He buried his face against your chest, trying to hide the sheepish smile forcing its way onto his face before he lifted his head so he could look into your eyes. “I love you so much.”

He leaned over and kissed you softly, his smile connecting with yours. He pulled away after a moment, simply looking into your eyes. He kissed you once more before laying back down, this time resting his head next to yours so he could kiss you again. 

“Sorry about your shirt,” he said, laughing awkwardly at the damp mess of spilled tears covering a fair portion of your tee.

“I don’t mind, kinda like my shirt soggy,” you shrugged with a smile, pulling him closer to you and tucking your head under his chin. 

**

When you woke the next morning you did not expect Dean to be singing to himself while making breakfast.

“What time is it?” you asked with a yawn as you sat up in bed. 

“About seven,” he replied. “Good morning, by the way.”

“Good morning.”

You hurried over to the small kitchen so you could wrap your arms around him from behind.

“What’s gotten into you?” he teased. 

“Could ask you the same question, handsome,” you replied, not letting go. “The food smells amazing and all, but since when do you cook?”

“Remember that fight we had?”

“I vaguely recall,” you said, somewhat flatly. 

“I’ve been working on my breakfast cooking so when I saw you again I could you know…woo you.”

“‘Woo me’?” You raised a brow, your smile growing. “You’re wooing me…with bacon?”

“Damn right!” he scoffed lightheartedly. “I know the way into your heart, and whether you admit it or not—it’s mother fuckin’ breakfast food.”

“You know me way too well,” you laughed. “I’m officially wooed.”

There was a comfortable silence before Dean answered the question he knew you were still wondering about; “Sam and I fought last night.”

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“I knew him going to a fancy college would put a bit of a rift between us…but fuck, sweetheart,” he said. He ran his hands down his face before he leaned against the counter and looked at you; “I think we…I don’t think Sammy and I will ever be as close as we were growin’ up ever again.”

“I’m sure that’s not true, Dean,” you assured him, placing a hand on his bicep and giving it a comforting squeeze. “Sammy just needs time, maybe a bit of space, but that’s only temporary, Dean.”

“Seems like everyone around me always needs space,” he chuckled humorously. 

“If this is about what I said—”

“Nah, you don’t have to explain yourself, I get it!” He shook his head, faking a smile. “You couldn’t stand being around me all the time and hey, that’s okay.”

Your brows furrowed with slight anger; “That’s not what I said, Dean.”

“That’s what it sounded like,” he mumbled before he turned back to the stove to continue making breakfast. 

“Dean I love you, you know I love you!” you said. “I raced here last night when you asked me to, doesn’t that prove I love you!?”

“And what happens when we get into another fight?” he exclaimed. “What happens when you decide that you need more space and you don’t bother coming back to me?”

“That’s not going to happen?” you countered. 

“You can’t say that for sure,” Dean said. 

“Yes I can, Dean!”

“What makes you think that, huh?” he replied loudly. “What makes you think you aren’t gonna run the second you realize that putting space between was the best decision of your fucking life!?”

“Because I love you, Dean!” you said, matching his tone. “Because no matter how far away I was from you the one thought running through my head was that I should call you. That I should stop being so stubborn and run back to you.” You sighed as he continued cooking and you went up to him again, leaning on his bicep and running your hands up and down his forearm. “Because when I got that call…all logic flew out the window and all that mattered to me was getting to you. When I thought you might be dying I didn’t care about anything else and I raced to you like a mad woman. Like a girl so lovestruck she’s practically crazy!”

Dean let out a chuckle which made you smile.

“So…you’re sayin’ you missed me?” he asked, a cocky smirk finding its way to his lips.

“Yes,” you sighed dramatically. “Okay? Yes, Dean, I missed you like fuckin’ crazy, and I’m sorry for ever suggesting we take a damn break. But… you know what this means now, right?”

He looked at you cautiously; “What?”

“You’re stuck with me, Winchester.” You grinned. “And I’m never letting you go again.”

“Sounds good to me,” he replied as he leaned down and kissed you.

[pseudowho]

Hiromi Higuruma Relationship HCs

(help me find the Higuruma artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

For our other favourite tuckered-out hardworking man of JJK...

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

- First of all, this man knows he's intense. Whether he's tired of life, or fighting for someone's life, he worries he's just going to cause a partner stress, so he generally avoids relationships. -Not that he doesn't want a relationship, he does; but he knows he wants someone smart, someone who can see the dark comedy of life, and someone who can argue. - Because let's face it - Hiromi Higuruma will argue with anyone about anything He needs someone to share his burning passion; it doesn't have to be about the same thing. - He feels like his standards are unrealistically high, and he won't make these demands of someone, he needs it to happen organically.

✨ and then Hiromi Higuruma finds you ✨

- You're in front of him in the line at the bar, having a fight with the guy in front of you, who was rude to the girl on the tills - And you just roast this guy - Hiromi's having the time of his life, he only wanted a beer but now he's getting a whole show - This guy crawls off, having been used to mop the floor, and you just shake it off, leaning over the bar to apologise to the girl on the tills, and order your drink - Higuruma leans past you; "I'll get hers" - You look at him, and he holds his hands up placatingly; "With no expectation," he says, "nice work with that arsehole. Have one on me." - So obviously, you talk all night - The bar staff come over in the small hours and hoik you out, because you're still talking; Higuruma is smitten- you're witty, dry, bright and immediately happy to talk about bigger things, and he feels so alive - You go out, and it's freezing, and Hiromi feels awkward and guilty for keeping you out so late - Gives you his jacket to keep you warm while he gets you home safely - Sad to leave you at your door, doesn't think to ask you for your number, because he just doesn't see someone seeing him that way until--

- "All that, and you don't even ask me for my number?"

- He stutters - No Higuruma left, brain gone walkies - You tap your number into his phone, doing the drop-call in case Higuruma doesn't

✨ You fall first, but Higuruma falls harder

- To save himself from disappointment, Higuruma insists to himself through so many coffee dates and dinners, trips to museums and galleries, and long walks in the park, that you're just friends - He's so used to crushing disappointment at work, he can't take it from you too - Until one day as you're raging against the machine to him, the love hits him like a bus - You're just waiting for the train to arrive together - And he leans in and kisses you, so softly but so convicted - The train whooshes into the station, rushing you both with warm air, but you're so lost in each other, one of his hands on your waist now to bring you closer while yours tangles in his hair to pull his lips harder to yours, because - Finally - You thought he'd never make a move

✨ After this, you're inseparable; as far as Higuruma is concerned, the hardest part (working out if you're in love) is done. He's absolutely decided you're the one, so that's settled, the man knows his own damn mind

- And he treats you like a man who knows what he wants - He's totally committed, but not showy - This man absolutely has your back, through thick and thin - Will fight your fights for you, but knows he doesn't have to - You read together, a lot. He massages your feet on his lap while you counsel him through the difficulties of another tricky case. You take long baths, working through at least one bottle of wine together, and his foot creeps past you to turn the hot tap on again because he's not ready to get out yet. - Higuruma takes it as a personal insult when you're sad, or upset, or have had a bad day, and curses the cruel world you live in for upsetting you...while throwing blankets over you, making you tea, making sure the house is tidy - Making you happy is his pride and duty - But if you do argue, it absolutely must be resolved. This man will not tolerate silent treatments or going to bed unhappy with each other, anything that can be talked through will be talked through - Absolutely loves quietly ragging on strangers with you, this man gets life from the absurd comedy of people-watching bad or stupid people - Always the first to put the kettle on if you have tea to spill - His bad days are bad, and sometimes his anger at the world seems so great, he must surely be angry at you too - But you stay patient, reassuring, a lighthouse in his darkness and God does he adore you for it - Once this man has decided to commit to you, there is no changing his mind, you've got to ride this one your whole life now

✨ NSFW ✨

- Fairly tall, slim, average guy build. The kind of soft abs of a guy who works like a racehorse - Secretly packing - His big dick energy in Court translates across - His breakdown in his 30s makes him pretty unashamed to tell you what he wants and give you what you want in the bedroom - Views it as an absolute personal failing if he doesn't make you cum at least twice - I mean come on, there's enough injustice in the world without bad sex - Loves it when you ride him after a long day at work, but he'll get mean if he thinks you're slacking - "*sigh* I know you fuck as well as you fight, so is that what you want? A fight?" - Full of praise when you bounce that pussy up and down his cock, stroking your hips and clit, determined you should share your pleasure - Also, sneak into his office at the courts, I dare you - Mother Justice looking down on you with her scales as you take his beautiful cock into your mouth while Higuruma moans without shame; or, the Newton's Cradle on his desk clattering as Higuruma bends you over, absolutely railing you with a wild look in his eyes, holding his black hair out of his eyes with one hand while he squeezes your arse with another, secretly hoping his colleagues are drinking in your squeaks and whimpers outside the door

(they are and they're so pleased) (Higuruma has looked stressed out lately) (maybe a good fuck will cheer him up)

- When he has had a very bad day prepare to be outrageously overstimulated by him, his lips and tongue and that nose working on your clit over and over while you cry and reach out for purchase on anything while you cum over and over, tears dripping back into your hair - "Can't do it? Nonsense. Hold onto the headboard. I won't be done for a while."

Overall, 10/10, husband material if you can weather those storms.

[cmncisspnandmore]

John “Soap” Mactavish was a hopeless flirt.

Everyone knew it, his teammates often groaning while out at bars with him, watching helplessly as another woman falls for his charm.

They all mutter under their breath as Soap’s blue eyes fall on you across the bar. Each taking bets on how long until Soap announces his departure, you hanging off his arm with a lustful look in you eyes.

What Soap doesn’t expect is for you to turn him down. A sideways glance at the blue eyed man, and a wave of your hand at his advances send Soap back to the shared table of his teammates. Metaphorical tail tucked between his legs.

Women rarely said no to him, your almost immediate dismissal of him throwing his plans of kilter. A smug smirk graces Ghost’s face as he watches his Sergeant sulk over his beer. Kyle offering a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

Soaps blue eyes stare down at the grimy table, his beer dangling from his finger tips. The conversation flows around him as the hours tick by, eventually his teammates turn in for the night. Leaving him sitting at the table, his beer, now warm still in his hand.

It isn’t until your hand lands on his shoulder that he’s pulled from his thoughts. A small smile on your lips as you slide into one of the empty chairs next to him.

“I know who you are,” you lean in close, the sweet smell of your mixed drink on your breath.

Soap lets out a small grunt, his beer bottle hitting the table with a resounding thud. “Yeah? Who might that be?”

You lean forward more, your lips ghosting the shell of his ear as you whisper, “look a little different than the last time you saw me. I understand not recognizing me right away…” you breathe. The hair on the side of Johnnys neck stands up, a prickle of familiarity forming in his mind.

“Im kind of sad you don’t recognize me Johnny.. we had so much fun together the summer before year 11…” you lean back in your chair, arms crossed over your chest. It takes a moment for the words to connect, and suddenly Johnny’s eyes widen. His pupils dilating as he turns towards you.

“Steaming Jesus…” he mumbles, hands darting out to grab your forearms and pull you towards him. His hands snake around your waist as he lifts you from your own chair onto his lap. His lips pressing against yours, as he hauls you impossibly close.

His heart hammers wildly against his chest, his hands slightly shaky as he pulls away to study your face once more. “I thought I’d never see you again…” Johnny whispers, his forehead resting on yours.

“I told you I’d find you again…” you smile, your eyes watering as you stare into the blue eyes you never thought you’d see again.

“The last time I saw you, was at the airport.. when you told me the reason you were leaving…” his brows furrow, his hand coming to rest on the side of your face. “You’re alright… right? Not seeing a ghost am I?”

“I’m fine Johnny, Cancer free. I always told you if I made it out alive, I’d look for you. You promised me too, ya know. I hope you intend to keep it…”

“I meant it then and I mean it now… I never stopped loving you,” he pauses, looking at you for a moment tears welling in his eyes. “Did you keep it? After all this time?” He asks, head tilted slightly.

With shaky hands you reach up, clasping the chain around your neck, and pull it from your shirt. A smile spreads across his face as he looks at the plastic ring, the one he promised to replace if you crossed paths again. “Of course,” you smile.

“Thank god, because I couldn’t imagine marrying anyone but you,” Johnny laughs, his lips pressing to yours once more.

[honeysimagines]

home

pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x fem!reader

plot: at a get together after the mission the dagger squad finds out some things about Rooster, causing Maverick to step up and try and help…

warnings: drinking, references to parental death and past trauma

notes: for K ♡︎, thank you for letting me bother you with this for weeks

words: 7k

It was a bittersweet evening at The Hard Deck but they tried to not let it show. After the successful mission it was time to dismantle their little ragtag group of pilots and for everybody to head back to their former assignments. Sadly Fritz had to fly out in the early afternoon but the rest of the pilots and backseaters had descended upon the bar and shuffled some tables around with Penny’s permission to make a large circle where everybody found a place for at least the next few hours.

It felt good to be back on solid ground. While being in the air was one of the best feelings in Rooster’s mind he was glad to be off the ship again. With the old jukebox playing music and the patrons of the bar talking and laughing together it was a little easier to forget about the events that happened just a few days prior.

“You guys are lucky,” Harvard pointed out after everybody except Bob was a few drinks in, “at least you guys get a few weeks leave.” The other aviators knew it wasn’t coming from a place of malice, had they been in the place of the aviators that didn’t fly the mission they’d probably think exactly the same way. Everybody craved the comfort of home while deployed.

“Yeah,” Omaha added, “Leave would be nice. I wish I could head home, see family. My sister had a baby months ago, never even met the kid and he’s already crawling.”

“Maybe Mav can put in a nice word with the commander. Make it so everybody can go home faster.” Rooster said after taking a drink of his beer, “Although with him there’s always a chance we’d end up shipped out overseas for a few months.”

A few nods and words of agreement greeted Maverick as he made his way back to the group after not so sneakily disappearing to the back of the bar with Penny earlier. At least he was smart enough to get a new beer so he could play it off as just getting another drink, even if none of the other aviators bought it. “What are we talking about?”

“Leave.”

The older man just took his place among his now former students, looking around. “That’s nice. What are everybody’s plans?”

Most of the others just answered with the basics. Going to see family, spending some time with their loved ones. Hangman wanted to use his time for a vacation and Rooster didn’t doubt that in a week there’d be pictures of Hangman’s abs at a beautiful tropical beach all over social media. At least that gave him time to prepare a witty joke he could send in the groupchat to roast the blond.

Realizing he was the only one of the lucky ones that hadn’t shared his plans, Rooster took another drink of his beer, finishing the bottle before putting it down on the table in front of him. “Don’t know yet. Probably going to spend some time catching up with Mav and after that head home to see the missus.”

Several heads whipped around to look at him with a speed that put fighter jets to shame. Rooster was sure he saw poor Bob get whipped in the face by Phoenix’ ponytail hard enough for his glasses to become crooked on his face.

“The what now?!” Multiple voices said loud enough to draw the attention of other patrons but the group skillfully avoided paying attention to them.

Hangman let out a fake cough to hide his reaction but he couldn’t hide the curiosity in his voice as he spoke. “Didn’t know you were married, Rooster.”

“Congrats.” Mavericks' voice tore him out of his thoughts about how Hangman had no reason to know his relationship status. His godfather looked at him with a certain sadness in his eyes that made Rooster mad for a split second before he reminded himself that they were working on mending their relationship and a missed wedding might have been another thing to add to the list of life events they didn’t share like they should have.

“I’m not married.” He paused, trying to find the right words to describe what the two of you were. “It’s an… inside joke with an old friend.”

“Oh that’s-”

“I thought about asking her once but… yeah no I’m not married.” He rambled on, unable to stop himself, almost forgetting about his fellow pilots as he looked at Maverick and the way his eyebrows knit up in confusion.

The rest of the group just looked at him before Halo slapped her knees before standing up, signaling she was ready to leave.

“And that’s our cue. Come on boys, let’s give the Daggers some privacy. You coming with, Coyote?”

“Nah, I’m Hangman’s ride. Can’t leave him with the bunch. He’d just say something to piss them off and they’d leave him here.”

It wasn’t a tearful goodbye but hugs and handshakes were exchanged alongside promises to stay in touch. But almost as soon as Halo led Omaha, Yale, and Harvard away from the table all heads turned to Rooster again. Great.

“Alright, spill!” Phoenix ordered. Bob behind her enthusiastically nodded his head to back his pilot up.

“Guys, maybe that’s not-”

“Ignore Maverick. Spill Rooster!” Hangman interrupted.

Sighing he looked at his empty beer on the table in front of him and wished he had a full one in its place. Or maybe a tall soft drink glass full of whiskey neat.

“Here.” Mav pushed over the beer he picked up earlier, opened but still full.

“There’s not much to talk about.” He tried to defend himself. “She’s a friend. A good friend.”

That wasn’t enough to satisfy the lot in front of him though. Phoenix was motioning for him to continue and part of him wished it was just her he was talking too. She had always been a good friend. A good person to talk to when he had the need to talk. Even if they rarely had the chance to just sit down and chat due to the nature of their work.

“Lives in the old house.” He continued in a low voice, hearing his godfather inhale sharply next to him.

“I wasn’t ready to let it go but I- I couldn’t stay there. Not alone. Not after mom died. So when I left and she needed a place to stay I told her she could have it. Tried to pay me rent for years but I don’t take it. If she didn’t stay there it would be empty anyways so why waste a perfectly good house, you know. I go back every few months and she keeps my shit around.”

He just focused on the bottle in front of him, thumbing away at the label as the stares of his friends bore holes into him.  

“That’s….nice.” The hesitant tone alone voided the words, he didn’t need to see the unsure face on top of it. He didn’t even want to imagine what the group was thinking of him at that moment. Revealing his tragic backstory in the middle of a bar.

“It’s not really home but it’s… it’s a homebase. Someplace to retreat to in case I’m back stateside.”

“And how long has this been going on?” Bob asked from behind Phoenix, confused, and Rooster was suddenly reminded of the years he had on them. Years because Mav held him back.

Years because he tried to protect you - a soft voice that sounded too much like his mother reminded him in the back of his head.

“Fifteen years? Give or take.” He mumbled.

“And how long have you been fucking her?” Three arms reached across the table to swat at Hangman for his question, Phoenix getting him in the arm hard enough for him to wince loudy.

“Fifteen years. Give or take.”

The only thing preventing an awkward moment of silence falling over the group was the fact that Fanboy choked on his beer hard enough that for the next few moments all the attention went to him, their group making sure that the WSO didn’t die. It didn’t prevent an awkward pause that followed after though. It was heavy, only interrupted by muffled coughing.

“Wasn’t expecting that to be completely honest.” Hangman said after everybody had mostly calmed down. When Rooster looked over to him he saw that the usual cocky smirk was nowhere to be found on Hangman’s face and for the first time in his life he wished the other man would make fun of him. Look at him with something more than blank surprise or maybe thinly veiled pity.

“Fifteen years is a pretty long relationship to have, Rooster. Even if you’re not married, that's still impressive.” Coyote tried to be uplifting, smiling at him across the table.

“We’re not dating either. Told you she’s just a friend.”

“But you’re fucking?” Hangman asked.

“Whenever I go back. Unless she’s in a relationship at the time which hasn’t really happened yet because she doesn’t really date but most of the time, yeah.”

Across the table Payback raised his beer to him before taking a sip. “I mean… friends with benefits isn’t bad. Me and my wife started out as fuckbuddies before I grew the balls to ask her out for real.”

A few of the guys around the table nodded in agreement while Phoenix rolled her eyes hard enough that Rooster was worried they’d get stuck, but nobody added on to what Payback said.

Another few moments of silence followed before Bob spoke up, all eyes on the quiet WSO. “So let me get this straight. You and this woman have been on again off again fuckbuddies for the past fifteen years. She lives in your house. You nearly asked her to marry you….. and you still insist that she is just a friend?”

It came out rather harsh and nobody really knew how to react, least of all Rooster. Nodding, he took another drink of his beer, breaking eye contact with Bob.

Pushing his chair back from the table Bob moved to get up from their table. “Jesus fuck I need a drink.”

“Bob, you don’t drink.” Phoenix pushed her chair back too, quick to back up her backseater.

“I’m starting now.”  

Six pairs of eyes watched as the two walked over to the bar but the men soon found themselves returning their attention back to the conversation.

“That’s a long time to pine over somebody, Rooster.” Fanboy chimed in, the pilots around the table nodding in agreement.

Before he could defend himself that he wasn’t pining, Hangman decided to speak up again.

“Jesus dude I know you like to wait things out but that’s long even for you.” Putting his arm around his shoulder he continued, “Gonna make your move when you get back? You’re a hero now Rooster, that gets the girls hot. No way she’ll say no.”

Without looking at the other man Rooster just shook off his arm, not taking his eyes off the bottle in front of him. Half the label was missing at this point but scratching at it kept his hands busy at least. “She’s just a friend, Bagman. Just a friend.”

Before any of the others could comment on it, Bob and Phoenix made their way back over to the group, letting themselves fall into the seats they had abandoned before. Their little comeback thankfully drew the attention to them and off Rooster, something he really appreciated. Judging by the way Bob was looking, his first drink didn’t go over all that smoothly.

“How’d he do Phoenix?” Mav teased.

“Went straight for the tequila. I tried to tell him he should start out with a beer but noooo.” She drew out the vowel, interrupted herself with a short giggle, before continuing, “Doubleshot of the cheapest tequila Penny had, didn’t even pull a face.” Phoenix bragged while giving Bob an encouraging pat on the back as he kept quiet. She turned to Hangman, sizing him up before adding. “You can ask Penny if you don’t believe me, Bagman.”

“Nah screw that.” Hangman replied, jumping up in his seat and leaning across the table to get closer to Bob, and Rooster was glad that they seemed to have found a new topic to latch onto. “First time and he went straight for the kill. Atta boy Bobby. Mister B.O.B.”  

Most people around the table joined in with Hangman who continued to go on and on like usual while Rooster just went back to focusing on the bottle in front of him. He continued to thumb at the label, using the nail to push the paper back little by little. Almost everybody had stopped paying attention to him but he could feel Maverick’s gaze burn into the side of his head. He just hoped the older man would let it go.

Maverick did not let it go.

Two days after the night at The Hard Deck he was pounding on the door of Rooster’s room until he had no other choice but to roll out of bed. Stumbling his way to the door with half closed eyes he cursed as he walked straight into a table, a hand coming up to rub over his thigh while the other one pulled open his front door.

“What?” The words came out harder than he intended but the other man didn’t react, instead pushing past him into the room.

“Great, you’re up. Come on get dressed, we need to leave soon.”

“It’s like…” He picked up his phone from the nightstand, dropping it onto the bed after he saw the time. “6 in the goddamn morning. Why are you waking me up at 6am on my day off, Mav?”

“I want to show you something but we need to hit the road soon unless you want it to become an overnight trip. So go and get ready.” Maverick picked up a shirt he had thrown over a chair a day or two ago and threw it at Rooster, catching him off guard enough for it to hit him square in the face.

Knowing full well he couldn’t escape this trip Rooster just sighed and gathered his things so he could get ready. Hurrying through the process of getting ready until he was standing back in his room, silently looking at Mav while the older man looked at the pictures Rooster had taped up next to his bed.

Most of his memories were kept in his phone nowadays but he still liked to keep a few  physical pictures with him on deployment. An old strip from a photobooth the two of you had squeezed yourself into, you perched on his lap with his arms wrapped around your middle while you made faces into the camera right next to the picture of his parents with their arms around each other. Maverick was focused on the third picture that was taped up though, their last family picture from before the accident. It had been hard to bend the picture in a way that properly hid Mav since they were all crowded together, Mom and Dad and Mav with little Rooster in the middle. He didn’t regret not tearing it apart in a fit of anger though. Instead he had taken it down after the mission, carefully straightened out the picture until Maverick was no longer hidden behind the back of the picture and next to them again, before putting it back up with their family reunited.

Rooster watched as he reached out and trailed a finger across the crease. It felt like he was interrupting a moment so he just stood still for a few more seconds, giving Maverick a little bit more time. When the other man turned around he didn’t seem surprised to see Rooster standing in the middle of his room though, a small smile growing on his face.

“Ready to go, kid?”

“Yeah.” He replied, waiting for Mav to bring up the pictures or where they were going but nothing came in response.

“Great.” Maverick stepped past him, hand coming up to give his shoulder a firm pat. “We’re taking your Bronco.”

It wasn’t until they were out of San Diego and making their way down a highway out east that Maverick opened up a little. He had been designated to the passenger side, left to peruse through the handful of cassette tapes in the glove box and play navigator while Rooster drove.

“Good selection.”

Out of the corner of his eyes Rooster could see the older man’s hands stopping once he came across a familiar mixtape, his own illegible handwriting staring back at him. He had played the tape over the years, knew the songs by heart even. But he still wasn’t able to read the writing. Your daddy had the nicest handwriting - his mother used to tell him - always filling out paperwork for Maverick. It wasn’t until he was older that he understood why his mother continued to do the same after his father’s death. A small act of kindness towards the poor soul that had to deal with Maverick Mitchell, saving at least a little bit of their sanity by shielding them from his terrible chicken scratch. Mav could write legibly when he cared, Rooster had a shoebox full of cards and letters at the old house that proved this, but he never really cared for paperwork.

Still focusing most of his attention on the road in front of them, Rooster saw the older man opening the case and carefully putting it into the correct slot on the old car. It took a moment for it to start but he smiled as the intro to Danger Zone began playing. Mav was nodding his head along the rhythm and Rooster could feel himself being overcome by some kind of nostalgic sorrow.

He was young when his father died. Too young. That wasn’t something he ever tried or was able to hide. But he tried his hardest to shield the ones around him from the full truth and maybe lie to himself a little. Nick Bradshaw had been a good man and he deserved to be remembered as such by his loved ones. Which just caused his limited memories of his dad to be all the more painful. No matter how hard Rooster tried to find new memories hidden away in a far corner of his brain he was stuck with a handful of amazing but painful ones.

It must have been mere days before the accident. His mom was somewhere, he didn’t quite know where, but his dad and his uncle Mav were with him. He remembered that the radio was blasting Danger Zone and that the adults had been singing along. They had all jumped across the room wildly and his uncle had picked him up only to collapse onto a couch or bench or something similar towards the end of the song.

After their falling out it had taken him years until he could listen to the song again without getting overwhelmed by emotions. But sitting here now, side by side with the man he tried to hate for years, all that heaviness he’d been carrying around with himself seemed to lift. It would never be like that one carefree summer afternoon in San Diego again but Rooster was certain that they could work towards mending their relationship again and he looked forward to it.

They had been driving for hours and Rooster was starting to get tired of the scenery. While he appreciated the desert as a beautiful place in theory after driving through it for a while it started to become too monotonous for him. They had stopped at a diner in a small town around eleven and eaten what would probably be considered brunch although there was a distinct lack of mimosas. He had filled the tank while Mav picked up some things from a nearby store and they were on the road again before noon.

“There’s a dirt road up ahead, on the left side. No street sign but you’ll see it.”

It was easy to follow his directions, pulling the Bronco into the street and making their way down the road. He could see a building up ahead, far enough removed from the main road to not be visible to passing cars but now that they were on the smaller dirt road Rooster was able to see that they were heading straight towards it.

An airplane hangar. Maverick had taken him to an airplane hangar. In the middle of the damn Mojave.

He slowed down the car once they got close enough, coming to a stop near the access doors but off to the side so he wouldn’t block the runway. If it involved Mav and a hangar there would definitely be planes around and he didn’t want to be in the way.

“Remember the thing you talked about last time at The Hard Deck?” Maverick said, hopping out of the car and Rooster had to suppress a laugh at the sight before he exited the Bronco too.

He watched as Maverick walked over to the middle of the hangar and raised his voice a little so that the older man could hear him even as he walked away. “What thing? I talked about a lot of things.”

“About the old house and it being your homebase.” Maverick was fiddling around with the chain that hung in the middle of the giant doors but Rooster couldn’t see what exactly he was doing, even as he walked closer.

“Well….” The chain rattled as it fell to the ground but Mav picked it up before giving each side of the heavy doors a push. “Welcome to my homebase.” Maverick said before slipping through the gap in the door and disappearing into the darkness.

Homebase. The stupid word echoed in his mind as he hesitated to follow the older man into the hangar. He had said that, hadn’t he? Downplayed the significance of you, your home… his home. Expressing his feelings had never been his strong suit but part of him didn’t regret his selfish choice of words. He trusted the daggers with his life but he didn’t want to share your relationship with them, not when he wasn’t sure of things himself.

He couldn’t bare himself to them in such a manner. Not when he still struggled to come to terms with things himself.

Trying to shake those thoughts he followed after Mav. The inside of the hangar was significantly darker than the outside even with the slight opening in the doors letting in light and his eyes needed a moment to adjust before he could see but when they did he looked around the large space in awe.

Rooster knew that the older man had an affinity for all things speed -bikes and planes, even the occasional sports car- but looking around he was surprised by how many machines he could see. Just from a first glance he counted at least 15, half of which he somewhat remembered from his childhood, as well as an old P-51 and… random furniture placed in front of a trailer?

“What-” He started but didn’t finish his sentence. What would he even ask? What is this place? Homebase. Mav had already said that.

He looked around again, trying to find Maverick between the machines.

“Go sit down.”

He nearly jumped at the sound of Mav’s voice echoing through the hanger. He hadn’t seen or heard him coming at all.

“I’ll go get the bags from the car but you go sit. Or go look around. Make yourself at home. Just don’t touch anything.”

The way he said it sounded like an adult warning a small child. Don’t touch anything, you could get hurt. And for a second Rooster thought about all the years he had spent with Maverick and his machines. How they had fixed up old bikes and Mav had patiently explained what every tiny screw does before ruffling his hair and telling him good job buddy for handing him a wrench. How he had helped Rooster get all his licenses from bikes to cars to planes and then let him take out some of the machines for joyrides or to impress girls at his high school. How he knew what he was doing and if he wanted to he could touch because he knew not to get hurt. Because he’s not a kid anymore. Because Mav taught him how not to get hurt.

But instead he kept quiet and looked around.

Rooster spent a while looking at the P-51. That thing must have cost a fortune even if it was old and Mav did the repairs himself. It was a gorgeous plane though and he hoped that he could convince his godfather to take him up with it soon.

The row of bikes felt so familiar it hurt but he still ran his fingers over the polished metal with care. All neatly lined up along the side of the hangar.

When he was younger Mav kept a locker covered in stickers in their garage. He still had the same locker now in the hangar and the collection of stickers had only grown. He used to go into the garage to look at them all the time when he was a child. Stickers of the different squadrons in all colors of the rainbow. He had them all memorized before he had memorized all 50 states. This one is where Ice flies -Maverick would point out- and this one is the squad that has to deal with Wolfman and Hollywood. They had gone through all the different symbols and pointed out when one of Mav’s friends flew with them.

As a kid he often wondered which squadron he would be assigned to, what insignia he would rep. He slowly raised a hand and ran his fingers over the Golden Warriors sticker at the side of the locker when something past the locker caught his eye.

Pictures upon pictures taped to the wall, familiar faces staring back at him. He could see pictures of Maverick and his parents as he stepped closer. Iceman. Their class at top gun.

Himself.

One of the pictures he knew. It was taken the day his high school baseball team had won a state championship and he remembered feeling like he was on top of the world. His mom had already been sick at that point but her prognosis had been good. Mav had been home from deployment and was able to bring his mom and together they had cheered loud enough that they could be heard across the entire pitch. Other teens would have felt embarrassed but Bradley had felt nothing but love. They had taken him out to eat afterwards and he had talked their ears off while stuffing his face with fries. His mother hadn’t even scolded him for talking with his mouth full. He had asked about the naval academy and if they had a baseball team and if Mav thought he should join. They’d all been so happy.

Not even a year later his mom was dead and Mav had pulled his papers and he had found himself on the other side of the continent completely alone.

Mav had another picture of him as well although he didn’t know where he got it. It was a newer one of him in his uniform, taken before the start of his last deployment. Ice, he answered his own unasked question. There was only one person that held enough rank and love for Maverick to get a hold of his picture.

He should have reached out sooner. If not to Mav then at least Iceman. Even in his stubbornness he had to admit that the late admiral had never treated him with anything but kindness and now it was too late to apologize.

“There you are.” Mav’s voice came from behind him and Rooster was proud that he didn’t flinch at the sudden noise. He had completely forgotten that he wasn’t alone in the hangar.

Instead of speaking immediately he took a deep breath and swallowed down his feelings. One step at a time. First he’d mend things with Mav for the future, then he’d ask for forgiveness for the past.

“Quite the collection you got here.” He said instead.

“Yeah?” He could see how the older man’s eyes lighted up at the mention of his machines. “I got more up here and a few more back there.” He turned around to point them out to Rooster, taking a few steps away from the side of the hangar.

“I’ve put the bikes on the backburner for a little bit to focus on the plane but as soon as I get it back up and running I have a few that need repairs. Maybe you could come and help me out a little. Like old times.” Mav smiled.

“That would be nice.”

He watched as Maverick walked over to the sitting area and followed. He disappeared into the trailer for a moment only to come out holding two bottles in his hands and gesturing for Rooster to sit. It was almost as if he had set up a little living room in the middle of the hangar. With an armchair and a couch, a small coffee table all on a big rug in front of the trailer. Wait…

“Mav do you fucking live here?”

Mav just gestured to the couch. “Sit down Bradley.”

It felt weird to be called Bradley again. For years he had only gone by Rooster or Bradshaw, building it up almost like a second identity or an armor. To him it felt like he had left Bradley behind years ago when he left home. Still, he sat down.

He looked at Mav.

Mav looked at him.

“Yes Bradley. I’ve been living in this hangar for the past few years while stationed at a nearby air base.” He finally said.

“In that trailer?”

Mav didn’t say anything, just nodded while looking at him.

He shifted a little where he sat on the couch, trying to avoid eye contact. “So you’re just all alone out here in the desert?”

“You know I’m used to being on my own, Bradley. No wife, no kids.”

Nobody to mourn you when you burn in.

He should have known that he would end up eating his words. No matter how much anger and distress he was feeling when he spoke them, no words were said without consequences and he was about to be faced with his.

He shifted in his seat again, still not meeting the older man’s eyes. “Mav, listen…”

“No. No.” Mav took a deep breath and let in out loud enough for him to hear it through the distance between them. “You were right.”

Another silence fell over them, this one weighing heavier on him than the ones before.

“I fear we’re a lot more similar than either of us would like to admit.”

It sounded less than a statement and more like a confession or maybe even a little bit of an apology. Like it pained Maverick to admit it and he had to force himself to say them. As if it had been a shortcoming on his end that had made them this way and not just the universe playing a cruel joke.

“There are… a lot of things we need to talk about and a lot of things I need to apologize for but not now. We have all the time in the world to talk things out but that’s not why I brought you here.”

“Then why did you?” His own voice sounded strange to him but he couldn’t figure out why. His thoughts were racing but at the same time his mind felt emptier than ever.

“I don’t want you to repeat the same mistakes I made.”

“Mav…”

“People like us belong in the sky and when something comes along to threaten that things turn ugly. You think there’s nothing worse than having that freedom taken away from you but there is. Because we can’t… we can’t stay up there forever, Bradley, no matter how hard we try. Once that’s taken away you have to look around and see what’s waiting for you on the ground. And when you see there’s nothing waiting for you… That’s scary, kid.”

Although he understood every word coming out of Maverick’s mouth he couldn’t understand what he was saying.

“You’re allowed to put down roots without them chaining you to the ground. You’re allowed to build a home and a family without fear holding you back.”

And all of a sudden his words began to make sense.

No wife. No kids.

Just like him.

Somebody to mourn him if he burns in.

“I don’t think…”

“Don't think. Just do.”

That damn sentence had burrowed itself into his mind. Nested itself deep enough in his subconscious that there was no way he’d ever get rid of it again and Maverick repeating them now did nothing to soften the blow he felt.

“You love her, don’t you?”

Such a simple question. Such a simple answer. Yet it felt like he had to force himself to admit it. “Yes.”

“Then tell her.”

Sometimes home wasn’t a place but a person but there had to be some incredible luck involved for the two to overlap for him.

For years he had felt a certain type of sadness while driving up to his childhood home, reminiscing about all he’s lost, but as he pulled his Bronco into the little driveway all he could think about was what he was about to gain. His stomach was twisting and turning in anticipation.

Part of him wondered if he was doing the right thing, finally confessing to you. The friendship you had built over the span of more than one decade was too important and he didn’t want to mess it up. It had been easier when he was young and stupid and fell into bed with you the first time without consideration but now your time together weighted on him. He hesitated before exiting the car, mentally going over everything he wanted to say and repeating the words Mav had told him before sending him on his way.

She wouldn’t have waited fifteen years for you to get your act together if she wasn’t head over heels in love with you too.

Oh how he hoped that Maverick was right.

Taking one last deep breath he opened the door and got out, throwing it closed behind him. You had planted some new flowers in the front yard. Last time he had been here he was greeted by soft yellow flowers but now all he could see was a beautiful red. Granted it had been a few months since he last came by but he still felt a slight sting at the change. Not that it happened -he was glad that you actually felt at home in your house and comfortable enough to change the greenery- but the fact that he missed it. As he made his way towards the front door he thought about all the other things that could have changed since he saw you last. Did you get new pillows for the couch? Hung new pictures on the walls?

He had to search through his keys for a moment before he found the house key but as soon as he did he unlocked the door and stepped inside. There were noises coming from the tv in the living room and he had no problem imagining you curled up on the couch with a soft blanket and a mug held between your soft hands with one of your shows playing.

“Honey, I’m home!” He called out, hoping that you wouldn’t be able to hear the desperation in his voice and only the excitement.

Instead of a response he could only hear a crash coming from the living room and instantly became concerned. He couldn’t take more than two steps down the hallway though before you suddenly appeared at the other end of the small space. Messy hair and comfy clothes he didn’t have time to brace himself before you all but tackled him, clinging to his body while his arms came up to hold you up and against him.

Holding you in his arms again just made him feel so much more confident in his decision. His body still felt a little sore even a week after the mission but he’d never tell you out of fear that you would lessen your crushing embrace. The last thing he wanted right now was to be separated from you in any way. He could feel saying something against his shoulder but he couldn’t hear anything, the sound muffled by his shirt.

You must have realized that he wasn’t able to understand what you were saying because you pulled away a little so he could understand you better. “You’re home.” You almost whispered, voice airy and light and a big smile on your face. “Why are you home? You’re supposed to be overseas, why are you here? You always text me before you’re home or at least give me a call. Are you okay? What happened?”

He smiled as you took his hands between your hands, trying to see if he was hurt while rambling and he just couldn’t hold himself back any longer so he leaned down and finally, finally put his lips on yours in the softest, most loving kiss he could muster with the amount of desire running through his body. If he surprised you with his kiss you didn’t show it, instead your lips began to move against his, only for him to pull away once you try to deepen the kiss.

“I love you.”

The words didn’t feel foreign in his mouth even though it was the first time he said them for a long long time. He’s been running from his true feelings for as long as he could remember but now that he managed to spill them he couldn’t stop.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Realizing that he was still holding you up, he carefully lowered you down until there was solid ground underneath your feet. You looked so sweet just standing there and part of him just wanted to swoop you right up again. Instead he brought one of his hands up to cradle your face, carefully stroking his thumb over your cheek.

“Baby...” You started but stopped when his thumb brushed over your bottom lip.

“I love you and I’m sorry.”

He could see your brows furrow in confusion so he continued.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was scared and it took me fifteen years to finally admit it but I love you. I love you and I’m not scared anymore and I’m yours… in any way that you’ll have me.” It was a blatant lie. He wasn’t just scared, he was absolutely terrified. Not just about his confession but also the future and the past and everything in between. But he needed to tell you how he felt so desperately.

Your hand touching his brought him back from his thoughts, cradling his hands while he cradled your face and a smile so wide he couldn’t focus.

When you spoke your voice was barely more than a whisper. “Oh you stupid man.”

For an awful drawn-out second he couldn’t breathe before your lips met his again and he felt whole again. Deepening the kiss all he could think about was how he was never letting go of you again.

Lieutenant Jakob Middlename Seresin enjoyed the simple things in life. A cold beer, a light breeze, and a beach full of attractive people were paradise on earth for him. After the recent mission all he wanted to do was lay back and relax before he had to head back out for deployment so when two of his old academy buddies talked about their new house in Hawai’i he invited himself to crash in their guest bedroom for two weeks and so far it had been nothing but pure bliss.

Taking a picture of his current view he sent it to his parents before pulling up the group chat Fanboy had made for everybody involved in the mission. He had missed about 50 messages but just from scrolling past them he picked up that Bob had sent a picture with his family and now everybody was roasting him for how out of character it seemed. Apparently there were flannel shirts and horses involved and Jake was just about to scroll back up to take a look himself so that he could join in the fun when a new message was sent to the group chat that caused him to drop his phone into the fine sand with a bitten off curse.

Rooster 🐓

getting hitched in vegas this wknd, be there or be square

txt Mav for details

Before he could fully process what he just read the chat was blowing up again. Text after texts came in expressing various degrees of excitement but Jake just read over Rooster’s text again before putting his phone away. With a sigh he brought his half-empty beer up to his lips and emptied the bottle before getting up to make his way back to the house.

It was only Wednesday so he still had a little time to enjoy his vacation before he had to head back to the mainland and he fully planned on enjoying it. He just needed to ask his friends where he could buy some gaudy Hawaiian shirts first. Maybe he’d even find some Vegas wedding appropriate ones.

He wouldn’t leave his wingman hanging.

[navstuffs]

Emptiness

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader

Summary: You are dead, and Leon wonders why he is still alive.

Warnings: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, long one-shot, leon is suicidial, suicide attempt!!, leon is depressive, MAJOR ANGST, abuse of alcohol, some usage of y/n, cigarettes/smoking, leon is a mess, SAD SAD SAD!!!, leon is suffering a lot, lots of pain, NO HAPPINESS!, dates in italic count since reader's death

Author's Note: idk, except i am sorry i like to make the characters i love suffer and share that on the internet? i made my husband read this, and he doesn't care about leon whatsoever, and he ended up upset for him at the end so you can imagine how this goes. i have more happy leon's fanfics, you can check it out here!

PLEASE, PROCEED CAREFULLY, AS THIS FANFIC DESCRIBES SUICIDE, SUICIDE ATTEMPT, DEPRESSION, AND ALCOHOLISM.

If you have been struggling with depression or suicidal thoughts, you are NOT alone! Here is a link for tumblr support for some helpful information, depending in what country you are! Seek help, you are loved, you are strong, you are wanted!

3 months, 27 days, 3 hours, 5 minutes

The first thing Leon notices when he wakes up is that he is cold. He isn't wearing a shirt, and for some reason, the blankets covering his body look dirty with some unknown substance. He groans, throwing the blanket on the floor. He still wears the jeans from last night, has no shirt on, and doesn't smell well.

The second thing he hears is his phone's ringtone. It had to be Chris. Or Claire wondering if he is alive. He sits up, his hand rubbing his face as a way to make the headache less.

The third thing Leon notices is his hand resting in the empty space of the bed. Your empty space on the bed. He gulps because he hasn't touched that part since returning to the house. He raises his hand as if Leon contaminated the area, the last pieces he had of you.

Leon glimpses under your pillow a very familiar black shirt. One of the ones he gave to you. Leon doesn't remember grabbing it last night. He holds it, checking if he got dirty, but the shirt seems clean. Leon takes the shirt to his nose, smelling it. 

His phone rings a second time breaking his trance. He gets up from the bed and sighs when he sees the nightstands filled with beer cans. You would have hated that.

When he finally finds his phone on the bathroom floor, Leon's headache worsens when he sees Chris's name.

"Yeah?"

"Fuck Leon, I was on my way to your house right now. You scared me, man."

"What do you want?" Leon isn't in the mood to talk, especially with Chris.

"Claire told me she went by your house last night, and you weren't there. She says the motorcycle wasn't there. Have you been drinking and driving again?"

Leon rolls his eyes. As if drinking and driving was a big problem for him now.

"Okay, mom, if that is all, then."

"Look," Chris sighs, and there is a long pause before he speaks again. "There is a mission. If you are still interested."

Finally, Leon thinks. He has been begging for one for weeks now, and Chris has always said "no," "next time," or "we shall see" due to his mental health situation.

"Yeah. When?"

"I will send you more details when I have it. Look, Leon, I just don't think you should—"

Leon hangs up without letting Chris finish. He scrolls through his lost calls, mostly all of them being from Chris and Claire. A few from Jill when she was trying to help. It got too much for her as well. Leon scrolls down even longer, finally finding your name.

Almost four months ago. Has it been that long? Two last calls.

As a ritual he repeats every morning, Leon clicks on your name, hearing the call go straight to voice mail. Precisely as he wanted.

Hi, this is Y/N, you tried to reach me, but I can't take your call now! Leave me a voice message, and I will contact you as soon as possible!

Beep.

-x-

 4 months

Jill Valentine is sitting in front of Leon inside the jet. She hasn't looked at him once inside the plane as they are being taken to a contamination site. Her eyes are distant, her form is tense, and Leon maybe thinks that time can't cure it all.

"Preparing to land," They hear in their radio communications. Leon rechecks his gun, wondering without significant interest if any of that would ever end. When he looks up, Jill is observing him.

"You ready for this?" She asks with a mild tone of curiosity in her voice.

You knew Jill longer than you knew Leon, actually. You were her best friend before becoming his lover. Jill had given Leon all the solemn talk of "Don't fuck up with my best friend, or I will kill you." After your passing, Jill had become somewhat like a ghost in his life. She tried, Leon wonders, if not for you, to give him support in the first two weeks, but Leon knew deep down she blamed him.

And she was right.

"Yeah," He answers.

Jill nods. The last time she had seen Leon, he was miserable. With the longest beard Leon has ever had, bloodshot eyes, hair a mess, drunk, and the smell of cigarettes around the house. She told herself she would try for you, but it wasn't easy to see Leon like that. And after she said you would hate it if he smoked inside their house and Leon grunted that you were dead and never coming back, she left without looking twice.

She never understood why Chris and Claire continued. Maybe because they knew him longer than they knew you.

The plane finally lands in a safe space, and they exit. It is in an abandoned industrial area this time, and they might have survivors who live nearby and might need help.

"Do not fuck this up," Jill warns.

"I won't."

-x-

1 month, 1 week, 2 days, and 5 hours

Claire Redfield is knocking on Leon's door. It is way past dinner time, but she brings pizza. From your favorite place. Claire knows he won't have eaten anything since Chris kept telling her Leon is losing weight. Since your death, Claire has tried to help Leon out as much as she could because she knows that is what you would have wanted, to no avail.

"Come on, Leon, I have pizza! I know you haven't eaten today!" She announces.

That's when her sixth sense starts beeping. All house lights are off, which is strange: Leon either left the TV or any light on. Leon didn't like the darkness. Claire tries to open the door but is locked. Leon never locked the door since he was back for this house. With her heart racing, Claire goes to her bag and grabs the reserve key. She shares one with Chris, and they both trade every week. Leon doesn't seem to care, not that he cares about many things lately.

She enters the apartment to complete silence. No sight of him anywhere.

"Leon?" Her voice is distant, as her hands are looking for her gun. Maybe someone invaded and got him? Perhaps something else—?

The air escapes from Claire's lungs when she sees Leon. Hanging from the ceiling.

"Leon!" She screams, running fast to hold his legs. She doesn't know what she is doing, she is calling for help, she is trying to get a chair, she is trying to hold his legs up so he can breathe. Claire doesn't dare to look up.

With one sudden decision, Claire gets her gun and shoots three times at the rope. Leon's body drops, and he is pale as a ghost. She kneels near him, feeling his pulse. There is still one, very light, but there is one.

Without thinking twice, Claire starts CPR, Stayin' Live by Bee Gees, in her head. She knows Leon will hate her for this, but she can't fail this. She would have hated herself, you would have hated her.

"Come on, Leon, come on." She begs desperately as she compresses his chest with all her strength. When Leon finally breathes, a small vigorous one, Claire is sweating on her clothes. She sighs, relieved, sitting down on the floor, drained.

She grabs her bag and finds her phone to call the emergency number, asking for an ambulance. That her friend attempted suicide. She gives them Leon's address, checking for his breathing. When Leon opens his eyes, he is confused. The last thing he remembers is kicking the chair away, the air escaping slowly from his lungs. He looks around, finding Claire's face in his peripheral view. She seems to be crying, her hands on his chest.

His blue eyes find hers, and Leon looks with hatred in her direction for the first time that Claire doesn't recognize him. She feels tears form in the corner of her eyes, and her lips shake, but she holds them back.

"I have called an ambulance," Her voice shakes, and Leon's stare carries so much weight that she must look away.

-x-

1 month, 3 weeks, 8 hours, 2 minutes. 

The hospital door opens, and Leon exits, carrying his duffel bag. After staying confined for almost two weeks, he inhales the fresh air. Those two weeks, instead of helping, just made him feel worse. Much worse. With no alcohol, no cigarettes, nothing, Leon had no way to forget. He woke up and went to sleep with your face on his mind.

Going through what he did wrong. What he could have done right.

He feels the pain sting his soul, thinking about your smile. Fuck, he needed a drink. He needed some sort of dubious mixed-up cocktail. The stronger, the better. When he looks to his left, he sees Chris Redfield standing.

Sighing, he walks toward Chris. Leon knows he won't be able to run away. Chris has a worried stare as he gets closer. To be honest, Leon thought he should have hated after what he did to Claire, but no, Redfield still manages to give him a small smile when Leon gets close.

"Hey."

"Who told you I was going to leave?"

"Mhm, the hospital? You are in my care for the next couple of weeks."

"I am going home." Leon starts to walk away from him, but Chris's arm stops him.

"No, you are not. As I said, you are in my care. And if I need to drag you to my car and make a scene in front of all those people, I will. What do you think?"

Leon hates how Chris can look like you so much regarding his care. Always to drastic measures, you both could say. Pretending to have given up, Leon holds his hands up as a sign of defeat and follows Chris to his car.

"Is...Claire okay?" Leon mutters as Chris starts the car. Leon can see Chris hold the wheel stronger than he should, but the moment passes, and Chris answers.

"She is worried sick about you. She has been...busy, that is all."

Leon knows that is a lie. He had seen Claire on one of the visitations day, and she seemed upset like she had been crying every day since she found him. Leon felt guilty Claire was finding him (he thought someone else would) and was outraged when she saved him. And he ended up lashing out at her. When Claire tried to argue during the visitations that is what you would have wanted, Leon roared that he never wanted to see her again.

To be honest, Leon is relieved. One less person for him to hurt. Chris, well, that one was hard. Leon knows he isn't giving up that easily. Especially after the last thing he said to you was that he would protect him during a mission.

"No, no, Chris, you don't understand, he bikes around without a helmet and thinks that is super cool? I mean, how old is he again? You better keep your eye on him, if I am not around. Got it?" You asked, winking in Leon's direction. He knew you were teasing him, but Chris's tone was serious when he answered.

"Loud and clear."

In the first three weeks after your death, Chris was there. He rummaged through the house, taking everything Leon could use to harm himself. Leon's guns were the first to go, Leon didn't know how he discovered the password, and honestly, he didn't care. He just woke up a day with them gone. Knives? Gone. It was like Chris was baby-proofing the house. 

Leon would have lost much more weight during that time if it wasn't for Chris insisting on him eating. Or hydrate. Warning if he got too weak to take care of himself, Chris would have made sure to strap him to a bed and kept him there against his will.

"There are cigarettes in the glove's compartment," Chris says, cutting his line of thought.

Leon looks at him with suspicion before opening. Chris wasn't lying. There is even a lighter there.

"You smokin' now?" Leon asks out of curiosity.

"No. I bought those for you."

Leon lights up a cigar, opening the window. The rest of the car ride goes silent, and when they finally arrive at Chris's house, he turns off the car, sighing.

"Look, Leon. I am not very good at this, and you know it. You will stay with me as long as you want, but I can't keep you a prisoner in my house."

Leon observes him, and Chris takes the courage to finally say it.

"No one wants you dead, Leon. What happened to Y/N, it wasn't your fault. And you need therapy."

Leon gives a humorless laugh, opening the door of the car.

"You are not bad at this, Chris. You are terrible at this."

-x-

4 months, 1 day, 5 hours

Ada Wong is good at her job. She does what she is paid to do when she needs to do it. No feelings attached, except, well, when Leon Kennedy is involved. It had been like this since the events during Raccoon City.

And then, suddenly, you appeared on his side during the events in Spain. You were something else, for sure. Standing by his side, remaining strong, although that was your first mission, or so Ada heard. And facing up her, determination in your eyes. Ada found you adorable, perfect for Leon. The loyalty, in your eyes, was something she could never demonstrate.

The man in front of her now was just what once was Leon Kennedy, her..."ally" from the other side. Ada had to admit she was shocked when she first saw him, barely recognizing him. Leon had big dark bags under his eyes, not as strong as he once was. And there was...no life in his once vivid blue eyes. Nothing.

"Ada Wong. Doing something for yourself again?" Leon asks, his voice monotone.

Ada was used to his hostility, mistrust, and even anger. But not that complete apathy, a complete lack of emotions. Leon Kennedy was dead, she was confident, and he died when you did.

"You know I don't share my secrets, big boy," She says, her tone the same as always. "But we can always find common ground, as we always do."

Leon nods, and Ada tells herself she shouldn't care, she shouldn't ask. But she has never seen it like this, and this Leon frightens her.

"I have heard about Y/N. My condolences."

Leon's eyes go wide with surprise. He looks at Ada as if she has just arrived from outer space.

"Is this one of your schemes? 'Cause if it is, cut the crap, I am not in the mood."

"It is not. I heard about what happened." Is Ada Wong really showing empathy? Leon blinks, surprised, but he shakes his head. No, it has to be one of her tricks. Since when did Ada start caring about him?

"Shut up, Ada. Do not mention this ever again. We are here for a mission, nothing else, nothing more. Stop pretending you fucking care." Leon's voice is low, and Ada doesn't say anything as she watches him walk in the dark corridor before her. She has known him long enough to know when he is being serious, and she knows he is threatening her life now.

Ada sighs. The Leon Kennedy she once knew, was gone. You left a carcass behind, a damaged man for the rest of his life. Ada still remembers the last thing she said to you, before she disappeared.

"You are truly special. Take care of him."

-x-

1 minute

"Is Mr. Leon Kennedy speaking?"

Leon stops when he answers his phone to a strange voice. 

"Yes? Who is this?"

"Mr. Kennedy, this is from McKenney Hospital. Could we speak with you in just a moment? Are you busy or driving?"

"No. Hospital, you say? What is going on?"

"We just need a moment of your time. Do you know Y/N L/N?"

Leon's heart starts bumping against his chest.

"Yes. What about it?"

"Y/N L/N was involved in a car crash today, sir. At this moment in time, they are doing surgery on them."

"What? No, excuse me, ma'am, this is some mistake."

The gentle voice behind the phone silences as she listens, Leon saying you weren't involved in an accident. It was impossible. You were coming to have dinner with him later, you were going to forgive him, you were going to be back together just fine. When Leon shuts up, the voice speaks again with much more compassion.

"You are tagged as their emergency contact, Mr. Kennedy. How long can you get in here—"

"I just fucking told you, lady, that is impossible, they are coming to have dinner with me, we are supposed to reconnect, and you aren't listening to me!" Leon screams the last part, punching the counter before him and making all the glass bowls in the counter jump. 

The compassionate voice waits to speak again in a much more determined tone.

"Mr. Kennedy, I suggest you come to the hospital, not alone. Come with a friend. We will answer all your questions and concerns when you get here. Just don't come alone."

Leon turns off the call, pissed. How can the lady be so stupid? He told her over and over again you were on your way to his house, your house. Leon had been cooking the whole night, preparing your favorite dinner. After that, he would never let you away from him ever again. He breathes deeply now, trying to ease the tremors on his hands, when he lets his eyes wander off to the TV, a news broadcast about a terrible accident that happened. Some drunk driver caused this accident that involved a with a truck oil tank, and five people were killed. Many injuries reported.

Without thinking twice, Leon grabs his motorcycle's keys.

He doesn't know how he got in one piece in the hospital. Something inside him tells him to call Jill, Claire, Chris, or someone, anyone, but he doesn't. The hospital's entrance is chaotic, with most victims being taken there since it was the closest location.

Leon asks your name to the front receptionist, and they say they are operating you now. The lady points to the waiting room area, where Leon waits. Leon had felt fear many times in his life, but nothing compared to this. He knew you were strong. Stronger than him, actually. You were brave. You were getting out of this.

Because he didn't know how to live without you.

Leon observed families getting good and bad news for what seemed an eternity. The death toll climbed to more two people, a mom crumble in the doctor's arms due to the loss of his son and husband. Leon was praying, begging for some higher force or anything for you to live.

He would never drink again. Leon Kennedy would never let the darkness inside him win and let you go. He would never doubt himself or his ability to love. No, Leon would love you even more intensely than he already did, more than anything in his life.

Leon takes a while to get up when the doctor finally calls his name. He feels sick, his stomach is twisting. He counts nine steps until he gets to the doctor, a lady with scrubs and an indecipherable face.  

"Mr. Kennedy, do you want me to take you to a more private room?"

"Tell me."

The doctor sighs, looking directly into his eyes when she says. 

"We did everything we could, Mr. Kennedy. I am sorry they didn't make it."

No. 

"I am sorry, Mr. Kennedy, I truly am."

No. NO! NO!

"Mr. Kennedy, please, don't, I am sorry. Can I get some help over here? Please, don't do this!"

It takes six or seven security guards to stop Leon from destroying the waiting room or even hurting someone. He is crying, he is begging, he is losing himself. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't. It was unfair: not after everything he had done or everything you went through together. He always told you he needed to die first because Leon knew damn well he couldn't live without you. Leon has a hole in his chest that will never close again. He feels someone pull his sleeve up, a pinching sensation, and Leon falls into darkness. 

[deanscherrypie69]

Tell Me You Love Me D.W.🌧️

Dean Winchester X!GirlfriendFemaleReader

Warnings: 18+ is advised! language(maybe like twice?) angst sm angst- sad Dean and Sad Reader. I’ve been trying not to use Y/n in many of my fics but.. lmk if you like this way better!! Pls don’t post my stories anywhere except tumblr 🩷

Feedback is always appreciated!! Don’t forget to comment and reblog!! My inbox is open (Not for requests tho!)

🌧️🌧️🌧️🌧️

“Just say it Dean, for me?"

You watch as Dean knocks back another shot. "Can't-" He says twirling the small glass between his finger.

You’d been poking him for hours, you knew he felt the same way… right?

You groan hoping off the bar stool. "I need some air." You mumble grabbing your jacket off the chair. Dean feels the cold air hit his back. He looks over his shoulder and watches you disappear outside.

He had known what you had wanted him to say it But he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to do it. Part of him was sacred. Scared of loosing you.

🌧️🌧️🌧️ Once outside you tugged your jacket closer to your body, it had been a windy day in Kansas. It was about to be fall, your favorite season.

You watch as the leaves begin to fall from the trees.

The bar wasn't to packed tonight. There had been a few cars in the lot including Dean’s

You press your body against the brick of the budling. A stray tear falls down your cheek. It had been threating to come out. You had been with Dean for about two years now.

You have loved him, a lot. And he knew that, you even told him.

"I love you Dean."

The words you had told him after a bad hunt. You remembred him looking at you, he didn't say anything. And that hurt you the most. So ever since then. You'd been begging him to say it. But he wouldn't.

Why were you two even togther then? You thought.

Leaning off the brick wall you storm back into the bar.

Dean was still where you left him, instead of shots he had switched to a beer.

"Why are we even togther?" You breathing was ragged as you stood behind him. His body face the bar.

Dean spins around in his chair. "What.” He says with a confused tone.

"Why. Are. We. Togther." You repeat. Your voice was laced with anger. A few people had turned around in your direction.

Dean reaches into his pocket. Hr throws a few twenty dollar bills on the counter for whatever he was drinking, and for the half of beer you'd had earlier.

"Come on." Dean says reaching for your arm, but you quickly pull away. He knew he was in deep shit. Never once have you not wanted him to touch you.

Dean opens the door to outside, letting you step out first. The cold air hits his face, oh how he hated this type of weather.

Once outside you spin to look at him. “What are we doing Dean!” You shout throwing your arms up in the air.

Dean huffs and reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out his keys.

“Get in the car it’s cold out.”

You roll your eyes and follow his orders. Walking to the passenger side door you open it. And slide inside.

Dean follows suit. He closes the car door behind him.

“What are we.” You say turning to face your boyfriend.

The green eyed man turns to look at you.

“You’re my girlfriend.” He says with a smirk. You can smell the alcohol on his breath.

You shake your head and begin to fiddle with the sleeves of your jacket.

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

Dean adjusts in his spot.

“Dean-“ You shake your head. “You know I love you right?”

Dean nods at your words. “I know,” he says reaching over to put the keys in the car.

“Why won’t you say it-“

Dean puts the car in drive and begins to drive away. “Seatbelt.” He points.

You huff and ready over to put it on.

“You can’t avoid the question Dean.” You say with an attitude.

Sure he can, he always does. He thinks to himself.

Dean reaches over and turns on the radio. Something Def Leppard by plays softly.

Your anger has begun to boil back up. Why had he been avoiding the question. All you wanted him wanted him to do was tell you he loved you.

“Stop the car.” You say reaching to pull your seatbelt off.

Dean doesn’t listen he continues to drive.

“Stop the car!” You repeat.

Dean presses on the break. The car door flies open. You fling off your seatbelt then exit the car. "Dean!" You scream, looking up at the night sky. You felt a few rain drops on your face. "I can't keep doing this." Your voice cracked, with hurt.

You look over to see Dean leaning on his car with his arms crossed, "Why won't you tell me?" You say with a sniffle.

Dean 's eyes don't meet yours instead the meet the ground.

"Just say it Dean, please." You give the green-eyed man one last chance.

He lifts his head to look at you, "I can't-" he says his voice breaking.

You nod, slowly backing away from the man. You begin to walk down the darkened street.

"Where are you going!" Dean shouts.

Not responding you walk faster, the heels of your boots clicking on the road below you.

You gasp when you feel a hand on your arm. You freeze in your spot. You knew it was Dean, you could smell his cologne. You felt his breath on the back of your neck.

Dean spins you around to look at him. "Let me go Dean." You warn.

His eyes were soft. “You wanna know why I can't say it??

“Why.”

Dean huffs, “I’m scared Y/n I’m so fucking scared-“ he begins. You watch as Dean swallows hard. “I’m scared of loosing you-“ he says with a shaky breath. “Everything I love, eventually.. leaves me. Or- something worse. And I don’t want that happening you. I couldn’t live with myself if it did.”

Dean had a stray tear slip down his cheek, you reach your hand up to wipe it away.

Before you could reply, rain starts falling down on you both hard.

Your eyes never leaving Dean’s, “you’re not gonna loose me Dean, I’m not gonna let that happen.”

“How do you know?” Dean says.

Both of you were soaked with rain but you didn’t care.

“Because I love you, and I always know that you’ll be there to protect me, no matter what.” You say with a laugh. “You’re not gonna loose me Dean Winchester, cause I’m not going anywhere.”

Dean nods at your words, his tears were mixed with the rain. “I love you.” He says grabbing the back of your head, bringing your lips together.

Dean was the first to pull away. “I love you too.” You pull away from him and begin to dance in the rain.

“Dance with me!” You squeal jumping around.

Dean doesn’t leave you hanging for long he begins to swing you around and around.

He loved you. And you loved him. You couldn’t ask for anything more.🩷

🌧️🌧️🌧️🌧️

Lmk if you’d liked to be added to my Dean tag list!!🩷🩷

[rosepascal]

dance with me || Joel Miller x Reader

summary: Joel hasn't slow danced since his wedding but he can't pass up the opportunity to spend time with you. Even if he steps on your toes a little.

warnings: none

a/n: have a little joel drabble while i deal with my writers block <3

Joel has never been a dancer. He can keep a beat but when the music played he tended to sit back and listen rather than dance. It's where he finds himself during Jacksons fall festival dance. To celebrate the turning of the seasons or something. It's been ages since he's been to one of these.

A dance of any kind. The last was probably senior prom. Though before he was sneaking his dads beer in the parking lot. Now he's only here because he got roped into it somehow. He tried to get out of it, he really did, but he couldn't so now he's stuck here.

"Is that you Joel?" He looks up from the drink he's been swirling around for an hour, his heart quickening as he sees you walk up. Silently cursing to himself as he stands up straighter.

He does not have a crush. He doesn't get crushes. He's a 56 year old man for fucks sake. He definitely, totally does not have a crush on you at all.

"Didn't think I'd see you around here." You say so sweetly it makes his heart thump.

"Well, I didn't have much of a choice." The soft laugh that fills his ears makes him smile.

Normally he's, as Ellie puts it, off putting. But you stick by him anyways. Somehow, he hasn't scared you away.

"I'm glad you're here." Your hand gently rests on his arm, a hopeful smile on your face.

"You look real good." He compliments. Nice one Joel he thinks to himself. You're standing there looking like a literal angel and all he can think is, you look good.

"Thanks, you look good too." Joel starts to tap his foot to the music. Old vinyl's and CD's that have been recovered doesn't always guarantee good music but seems like someone found an 80's hits one.

"I love this song." You sway back and forth as you sip on your drink.

"Me too, I used to uh..." Joel trails off. He looks to the dance floor to see Ellie dancing happily with her friends. A sad smile on his lips.

He had a CD like this. He'd play it in his car and sing along with Sarah. She'd always roll her eyes and say he's off key but she always gave in and sang with him.

"Used to listen to this my family." Is all he says.

There's a sadness in his voice as he watches Ellie. You don't know much about his past and now isn't the time to ask. The song switches to something much slower, much more romantic. Setting down your drink you hold out your hands, this is it.

"Dance with me?" He freezes.

The grip on his beer bottle tightens as he starts to stammer out an excuse. He doesn't dance, he'll only step on your feet, he's just gonna mess it up. Your face falls slightly the longer he doesn't answer.

"It's okay. I'll see you around Joel."

"Wait! I uh, I'd love to. But I'm not really a dancer." He says nervously.

Joel never gets nervous but there's just something about you that does it to him. Grinning you grab his hand, ignoring how perfect it feels in yours. There's whispers through the crowd as they watch the Joel Miller be dragged to the dance floor.

He wraps one arm around your waist, holding the other one up. He tries to move to the music but he keeps messing up. He's too in his head as he tries to focus on making this a good experience for you.

"Hey, Joel." You gently cup his face, stopping the two of you in the middle of the floor.

"Relax." Wrapping your arms around his neck you pull him closer, swaying side to side. Just letting the music play as you enjoy being with him.

"I warned you sugar, might take your toes off." He feels his shoulders relax as he wraps his arms around your waist, letting his cheek rest against you.

"It's worth it." You hum softly.

He could get used to this. Holding you in his arms, being yours. The music starts to fade to the back as he just holds you. Joel doesn't dance. Doesn't matter how many people saw him tonight or how much teasing Ellie is gonna do when he gets home. He'll still say he doesn't. But maybe dancing isn't so bad.

Especially when it's with you.

[https-yeonjun]

awkward (c.yj)

summary. you let your best friend see your body, and now it's awkward

wc. 5251

genre. angst

tags. minors DNI!! yeonjun x fem!reader, college!au, best friends to lovers to ???, mentions of sex and alcohol, suggestive,

a/n. repost; if you're from my other account, you would know this is just a compilation of all three parts of awkward, though i edited it again.

more of my work

of all the friends you have at college, you’ve known yeonjun the longest. your mothers grew up together and were those best friends that dreamed of raising their kids together. you saw each other through snotty noses and scraped knees in elementary school and through first heartbreaks and senior prom dates. he was even the one who convinced your parents to let you move from your small suburban town to the big city for college.

tonight, you’re sitting on the couch in one of his friend’s apartment, nursing another red solo cup, watching him suck the face off of some random girl.

you feel a pit in your stomach.

anyone would think that because you had known each other for so long, seen each other at your absolute worst, there would be no way your relationship would ever cross that platonic-romantic line. but as you watched yeonjun become the confident man that he was today, the image of that bratty little kid who always tried to get you into trouble faded away, and you just couldn’t help but develop these weird feelings about your best friend.

there have been many times where you have actually brought up the idea of you guys getting together. jokingly, of course. because lord knows that you would never seriously tell him how much you wanted his soft lips against yours. especially not after he laughs whenever you bring it up.

so now, you just watch him, as he leaves you in a corner at the house parties he drags you along to, flight with other people.

you chug the remainder of the drink in your hand, wincing at the warm taste. you hate the taste of beer but it’s the only thing they have at these stupid parties. you get up a little too fast, and the wind almost knocks you back down. you didn't think you were that drunk, but then again this was your third drink in the last hour.

you walk over to the kitchen and tap the black haired boy on the shoulder. he moans against her lips, not even acknowledging the fact that you were right next to him. you feel the blood rush up to your cheeks as you tap him again. this time, the girl pulls away from him. “can i help you?” she asks.

you don’t even look at her, just at your best friend, who looked annoyed at the fact that you just interrupted him. his arm was still wrapped around her waist.

“jun, i want to go home.” he looked between the two of you, hesitant in his response.

“right now?”

“yeah, i’m kind of tired.” you looked at the rest of the party. “i don’t really want to be here right now.”

“do you want me to call you a car?” he ran his fingers through his hair. are you really trying to cockblock him right now?

“i think i’m going to throw up.” you lied.

“fuck,” he mumbled, “seriously?” you slowly nodded in response. “okay, shit,” he turned to the girl, his arm still around her waist. “i’ve gotta go.”

“you’re seriously leaving me right now?”

“i need to take her home.” his voice sounded sad. “but, uh… i’ll see you around?” it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself that he would ever speak to this girl again. she pushed him away from her and walked out of the kitchen.

his arm supports your back as he walks you to your apartment. his friend’s place was already small, but the fact that it was packed like a can of sardines made you feel a little claustrophobic. the night air definitely sobered you up. but you still feel a little woozy as you make your way into your apartment. yeonjun carefully walks you over to your room and lays you on the bed.

“do you want to stay the night?” you ask him in a small voice.

“no,” he is already halfway to the bedroom door now. “i have to work in the morning.”

“i’m sorry.”

“for what?” he walks back to your bed. 

“for making you leave early.”

“it’s all good. you should go to bed though.”

“can you please stay?” you ask again, a little more desperately this time.

“i’ll see you later, y/n.” he bends down to kiss your forehead. “good night.”

it was the last day of finals and you and yeonjun were celebrating together in his apartment. “i can’t believe we’re finally done. this semester was rough.” he was double majoring in music business and dance and he had a lot of final projects to complete in those last few weeks of school and this was the first time you had seen each other since last month. “how should we celebrate?” he asks you with a smile on his face. you missed him.

“i think,” you begin, an evil grin appearing on your face. “we should play truth or truth.”

“that’s not a real game.” he interjects.

“yes, it is. and we are going to play it, but every time you do a truth, you have to take a shot of this.” you pull out a bottle of fireball from your bag.

“that sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

“true.” you shrug. “but c’mon. it will be fun.”

and he agrees.

you are both three rounds into the game now and your throat is already starting to burn. the questions started out easy and light but now your head is starting to feel a little fuzzy and the air is starting to get a little tense. you sit cross-legged on the couch opposite yeonjun, the bottle of fireball between your two bodies. maybe it was the way he was looking at you or the fact that you had been drinking knowing that the last meal you ate was a nutella sandwich before your last exam five hours ago. whatever it was, it was making your stomach do flips.

“it’s your turn now.” you giggle.

“ok… when was the last time you made out with anyone?” he asks you.

fuck. why did he have to ask you that? you were a little embarrassed that it had been a minute since you had been remotely intimate with anyone. “i don’t know…” your voice trails off sheepishly, you try to hide your face with one of the cushions on the couch.

“what do you mean “you don’t know?”” he is surprised. he always had friends asking him to set them up with you. “what about that guy from that party we went to?”

“what guy at what party?”

“the one guy who you were talking to all night. i thought you guys hooked up.”

“well, we didn’t.” you pour your shot and immediately drink it. “can we move on? please?”

“well, would you make out with me?”

“it’s my turn to ask the question, yeonjun.” you feel the blood rush up to your face.

“okay, but would you?” he moves the bottle to the coffee table, and inches closer to you. he was right; this game was a recipe for disaster.

“i can’t believe you had sex with yeonjun.”

“yell it out for the whole world to know.” it is a week later and you are having lunch with one of your friends. you told her what happened with yeonjun and she cheered, gleefully, saying that she was happy it finally happened. it seemed like all your other friends had an ongoing bet about your relationship with your best friend, and she just made twenty dollars.

“so are you guys finally together now?” she leans forward, her palms supporting her chin, invested in your love life.

“god, no.” you sigh. “i haven’t talked to him since then. i actually left when he went to the bathroom and he’s been texting me but i don’t know what to say.”

“you left when he was in the bathroom?” she exclaims, causing you to groan.

“i made things so awkward now. i don’t even know what to do.”

“so you’re ghosting him? and i thought he was the fuckboy.”

“i’m not ghosting him. i just don’t know what to say to him.”

“so you’re ignoring his text. y/n, that is literally the textbook definition of ghosting.”

“what do you want me to say to him? “i’m sorry i’ve been ignoring you after i snuck out of your place after we fucked?” and through text? i sound like such a fucking asshole.” a woman passing with her child glares at you. you groan again.

“you kind of are an asshole, y/n.” her phone vibrates on the table and she looks at it, a smile forming on her face. “looks like you don’t have to say that through text?”

“what?”

“yeonjun is throwing a party to mark the end of the school year. his friend just invited me and you’re my plus one.”

“he didn’t tell me about that.”

“well, how do you expect him to tell you that when you’re ghosting him?”

“i’m not ghosting him!” you try to defend yourself. “and i don’t think i’m going to go. what if he doesn’t want to see me?”

“if he didn’t want to see you, i would not have been invited. and besides, i don’t want to go by myself.”

with one final groan, you put your head against the cold diner table.

you and your friend arrive at the party and thank goodness, you hadn’t seen yeonjun yet. she promised that she would stay by your side all night and you’re very grateful that so far she has kept her promise. the two of you walk into the kitchen.

you’re making small talk with some mutual friends when someone comes in and asks if you know where yeonjun is. right then, he comes into the kitchen laughing with his friend. his smile drops when he sees you. you wave at him, with a small smile. he turns the other way to answer the person who asked if he wants to play beer pong.

“well, that was embarrassing.” you say to your friend, trying to push your tears back.

“y/n we can leave if you want to.” she tells you, rubbing my arm.

“no it’s fine. i’m fine. besides, we just got here and you promised me we would have fun.”

“okay, but if you want to leave, let me know.”

you couldn’t even try to have fun that evening because you spent the entire party trying to avoid yeonjun. when he was in the living room, you were in the kitchen. when he was in the kitchen, you were on the balcony. when you were sure he was on the balcony, you escaped to the bathroom.

this is so ridiculous. you think, staring at your face in the mirror. you sit on the toilet scrolling through your phone until you hear faint voices outside the door.

“did you know y/n was going to be here?” you could recognize that voice anywhere.

“no, but she’s always at these things. aren’t you guys best friends?”

“uh… yeah, i mean.” you can hear him groan. “something happened and she ghosted me and now she’s at my fucking party.”

why does everyone think i ghosted him?

“what is “something”?”

“if i tell you this, you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

“damn, did you guys fuck or something?” there is a pregnant pause on the other end of this conversation. “fuck!”

“and she fucking ghosts me. complete fucking radio silence for a whole fucking week and then she shows up at my place again.”

“maybe she’s just scared. i mean, your relationship changed overnight.”

“then send an emoji or something. don’t just ghost your best friend.” he stops for a second, sighing. “and, our relationship wasn’t supposed to change. we know each other. we don’t judge each other.”

“do you regret it?”

“regret having sex with y/n? no. i just wish we were still friends now.”

 me too.

you clear your throat and take a look in the mirror. he’s still outside the door but it is starting to dawn on you that camping out in his bathroom all night is neither sustainable nor serious. also, why are you trying to avoid him? it’s better to talk it out once and for all than have him hate you forever. you walk out of the bathroom and see him standing there with his friend. when they hear the door click, they both turn to look at you and his friend makes a face at him. yeonjun grimaces back and they begin walking back to the living room to join the rest of the party.

fuck, okay maybe that’s why you were avoiding him?

your heart is racing now and something in the back of your mind is telling you to just walk back into the bathroom and save yourself from further embarrassment that evening. but then you remember that this is your best friend. he couldn’t really be that mad at you, could he?

“hey, yeonjun.” you call after him and he turns around with a groan. “can we talk, please?” his friend pats his back in encouragement and yeonjun walks towards you.

“now you want to talk to me?” he spits at you.

you feel a chill down your spine at his tone. only he could make you feel so small with such a simple comment. “i was never ignoring you.” you reply. your voice is quieter and more strained than you wanted it to be. you clear your throat and repeat yourself.

he laughs at your attempt to gain confidence. “really, because i was this close to sending a carrier pigeon to your house to get you to talk to me.”

“i’ve just been busy.”

“busy?” he raises his eyebrows in disbelief, his voice dripping in sarcasm.

“yeah, i was busy. i have a life, you know?” you cringe internally at how defensive you sounded. why are you getting so riled up?

“you don’t have to try and convince me. i believe you.” you are standing against the bathroom door and he is still at the end of the hallway. silence fills the gap between the two of you, until he clears his throat and begins to speak again. “so, what did you want to talk about?”

“seriously?” you scoff. “there’s a massive elephant in the room, jun.”

“i mean, what exactly do you want to say y/n?” he looks behind him to the rest of the party. you feel like you were wasting his time.

“i wanted to say i’m sorry for leaving, but–” you begin but you couldn’t get far because he chuckles. “is something funny?” you ask.

“you know when people apologize, like give a sincere apology, there are usually no buts.”

you run your hands through your hair in frustration. you’re trying to clear the air and he’s interrupting you. seriously? “i am apologizing, but–”

“you’re doing it again.” he smirk. he always did enjoy getting you flustered.

“it was awkward.” you blurt out, not giving him a chance to interrupt you again.

“not to me,” he says under his breath, quiet enough for you to almost miss it. but you don’t.

“c’mon jun, we’re friends.” you reply, plainly.

“you and i both know that we aren’t just friends.” he moves closer to you and your breath hitches in your throat.

“yes, we are,” your voice cracks. “ you’re my best friend.” you’re lying through your teeth, trying harder to convince yourself that your feelings for him were made up and he most definitely did not reciprocate them.

“so, why did you leave?” he asks, arms crossed, completely unmoved by the fact that you were about to burst into tears.

“because,” you push back your tears. “because, we’re friends and friends don’t fuck. but we did and i felt so awkward. i made it awkward.” you’d humiliated yourself in front of him too many times in the past week and you were determined to not cry in front of him and have him pity you.

“now what?” he asks, his arms folded in front of his chest.

“what?” you look up at his face, really examining his eyes. the eyes that looked at you fondly and made your stomach do flips were gone.

“you left my house right after we had sex and then you ignored me for a week. you show up to my party uninvited with your “apology” so what now? what do you want from me?” he never raises his voice at you, but he can still manage to make you feel stupid and small.

“i want us to go back to normal.”

“you want us to go back to normal?” he chuckles, not so much in a mean way but more in a confused way. like you just told him that the sky is actually green and grass is blue.

“is that so much to ask for?”

“y/n, you left.”

“but i’m here now.” your voice cracks again.

“and that’s supposed to mean something.”

“yes, yeonjun. it means that i’m here and i’m trying. i want us to be friends again, okay?” you plead. “i’m sorry for leaving and i’m sorry for ghosting you after but i’m here now. i’m trying.”

he sighs and massages his forehead before looking at you. he’s never had a great poker face, but right now his face is blank and you can’t read him at all. “i don’t think we can be friends anymore. not the way we used to.”

“we can try, please.”

“no, we can’t. you were right. it’s awkward now. you made it awkward now.” he starts leaving but turns around. “you shouldn’t have come.” and with that he disappears back into the party.

you sit on the floor for a minute before you feel your phone vibrate in your back pocket.

where did you go????

you look at the time. it had been almost thirty minutes since you told your friend that you needed to go to the bathroom.

im by the bathroom can we leave now

you took a week to mourn the end of your longest friendship and then you spent the rest of the summer pretending that you had accepted it and distracted yourself with work. you didn’t see a lot of people over break because many of your friends were actually yeonjun’s friends and he got them in the quasi custody battle. now you weren’t getting invites to all the parties you once did, you had to find a distraction in being a straight-a student.

you’re working on a homework assignment when your parents call, asking what your plans for the holidays are.

“i’ve just been really busy, mom.” you tell her when she asks why they haven’t seen you in months. the truth is, you knew yeonjun was going home for summer break and as much as you tried to convince yourself that you were completely over everything that happened between the two of you, you really weren’t. and the last thing you wanted to do was see him everyday for two months.

“you always say that honey.” you roll your eyes at your mom’s passive aggressive comment. “but we will see you in a few weeks, right?”

“you will?” you rack your brain to see if you forgot whether or not you invited your parents to come visit you at your university or something.

“it’s winter break honey.” you had been stuck in a routine of going to work, going to class, and doing your homework in your room. you had completely forgotten that the semester was coming to an end and you couldn’t avoid going home anymore.

“oh, right.” you reply before your mom proceeds to drone on about the annual dinner your family has with your neighbors, which you absentmindedly listen to. “i don’t think i will be able to make that.”

“what? why not? we do it every year!”

she gives you half a second to come up with an excuse. you couldn’t just outright tell her that you didn’t want to see yeonjun and that’s why you haven’t come home since last winter and why you did not want to come home. because that would just be absurd. “i probably have to work on christmas eve. i’m not sure i can make it back home.” not very effective but you’re internally praying to the universe that she believes you and doesn’t push it any further.

but, alas, the universe has not been on your side lately.

“it’s the holidays! i’m sure you can call out.”

“mom, i still have a lot of work to do for school so i still might not make it even if i can get out of work.”

“honey, you know we have this christmas eve dinner every year. and your dad and i have already started planning this year. you can’t say you just can’t make it.”

you sigh. she’s so annoying when she’s trying to persuade you. “i know mom but it’s just that i hate being the youngest person at these things. it’s so boring for me.”

“that won’t be a problem this year. you won’t be the youngest because a new family moved in over the summer, i think in june. they have kids around your age.” she perks up. “and yeonjun is going to be there too.”

“oh, right.” as if you could forget about that.

“we were wondering why you didn’t come home because he was home for a month over the summer.” your mom broke you away from your train of thought.

“i had to work mom.” you respond, dryly. since you told her that you weren’t coming home at the end of last summer. she’s been bringing it up everytime she talks to you. “and i still have to work so i’ll let you know if i can come home for the dinner.”

“oh, you’re coming home.”

“i’ll see, mom.” you’re trying to quickly get off the phone. “i have a lot of homework to catch up on so i’ll call you later. love you! bye!” you hang up.

you know she’s right and you are going to go home.

from being your mother’s daughter you have learnt two fundamental truths: the salad fork goes on the outside of a plate setting and you need to learn how to lie. you have been at your childhood home since nine in the morning, trailing behind your mom as she prepares for the annual dinner. she made you stay with her the entire day, save for the two hours she allowed you to get ready before the guests arrived. even afterwards, she stayed by your side, forcing you to mingle with guests.

right now, you are in the kitchen with your mom as she gives you a quick rundown on what had been going on in the neighborhood since the last time you were there. other than your family and yeonjun’s, there was a new family at this dinner. according to your mom, they had moved in over the summer and they had a daughter your age who was going to the local university in your town. “it would be nice to have another friend in the neighborhood.” she says, prompting you to talk to her.

rolling your eyes at your mom, you move over to where the girl was with her little brother in the living room. before you could get to her, the front door opens and yeonjun and his mother step into the house. your mom rushes to greet her old friend, as if they didn’t see each other just the other day. you greet her too before escaping to the bathroom under the guise of freshening up before dinner actually begins. you had made plans to avoid yeonjun by any means necessary.

by the time you return downstairs and dinner actually starts, you realize once again that fate (or your mom) had other plans for you. when you get to the table, you see that the only empty seat at the table was between yeonjun and the girl your mother so desperately wanted you to be friends with.

this is just perfect.

you try not to make eye contact with him as you engage in small talk with the girl beside you. you find out that she’s a freshman at the local university and she’s majoring in english literature. you tell her about your major and your classes.

“what about you?” she speaks over you, to ask yeonjun. “do you also go to the same school?”

you turn to face him for the first time that evening. “yeah, i do.” he answers, coolly.

“are the two of you studying the same thing?”

“no.” you answer quickly, trying to keep him out of this conversation.

“i can speak for myself.” his tone shifts when he talks to you. “i’m doing a double major in music business and dance,” he replies to her.

“whatever,” you scoff.

“is there a problem, y/n?” he asks you, snarkily. the girl beside you turned away to play with the food on her plate. it seemed to her that she might have pulled a little too hard on a sensitive trigger.

“oh, you’re talking to me now?” you parrot the words he said to you that night outside his bathroom. the last time you saw him.

“i never said that i wasn’t taking you.”

“then what exactly did you say?” even though the two of you are not having the loudest conversation at the table, you are sure that the other people at the table can feel the tension rising.

“i said that i didn’t know if we could be friends the same as before.”

“so stop trying to act like everything is fine.” you say a little too loudly. the other conversations at the table stop.

“i’m not–” yeonjun begins but someone clears their throat and you both look up to see your mothers glaring at the two of you.

“maybe you two should have this conversation on your own time?” his mother suggests. you feel him shrink in his seat beside you, quietly apologizing.

after dinner, your mom drags you into your childhood bedroom. your room was adorned with discount furniture, an old bookcase you took from your grandparent’s house in high school, and lots of fairy lights. 

“i don’t know what’s going on with you but your behavior tonight is completely unacceptable.” your mother scolds you. you are sitting on the edge of the bed and she is standing across from you with her hands on her hips.

“my behavior?” you respond.

“you’re being rude to your friend and the rest of my guests, arguing at the dinner table, embarrassing yourself. what is wrong with you?”

“i wasn’t arguing with anyone.” you mutter, rolling your eyes.

“so what exactly was going on then?”

“god, mom! this is like the last thing i want to talk about right now.”

“suit yourself.” she gives you one more look. “but i need you to calm down before you come back out there.” and with that she walks out of the room. you flop on the bed and groan.

how did everything turn to shit? you are so engrossed in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice that yeonjun walked into the room until he spoke. “can we talk?”

you quickly sit up on the bed, adjusting your dress, and looking at him before scoffing. “you want to talk now?”

“why are you being weird?” he is leaning against the door frame, not knowing whether or not he was welcome to walk in.

“i’m not being weird.”

“why didn’t you come home this summer?”

you look him in the eyes for what felt like five minutes. “why are you pretending like nothing happened between us?”

he takes your response as an invitation to enter your room. he moves to sit on the bed next to you. “i know that i was really mean to you the last time we saw each other but i don’t hate you and i don’t want you to hate me.” you scoff. “what?”

“i don’t think i could hate you even if i tried.” you reply, quietly. the two of you fall into a silence. you took in your room and the man sitting beside you. you two had spent many nights in this room, but tonight you both felt out of place. the fairy lights that surrounded your bed and windows highlight how aged he looks. the once comfortable silence between you two was now a gap, a liminal space. not quite what it used to be before, but not quite awkward.

“i’m–”

“i think–”

you both begin talking at the same time but stop. “you can go first,” you concede.

“i’m sorry for that night at my party.” he begins, not making eye contact with you while you are eyeing him intently. “i think i was more embarrassed than angry and i shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

“i’m sorry too. for showing up unannounced.”

“what were you going to say?” he quickly changes the subject, feeling that the silence was threatening to return.

“i was saying, i think you were right.”

“right about what?”

“about us not being able to be friends again.”

“i didn’t say that exactly.” he reminds you.

“yeah, whatever, i know.” you roll your eyes. “but i’ve been thinking about it a lot – our friendship. and i don’t think we were ever really friends.”

“what do you mean?”

“i mean our moms are friends and they kind of shoved us together. i feel like we never got to know each other outside of growing up together.” you feel blood rush to your face when you notice how attentively he is listening to you, taking in all your words. you look down at your hands, like a child being scolded by their parents. “i guess i don’t want to go back to what our friendship was. i want to get to know you as you are now. i also had a massive crush on you.”

“wait, had? like past tense?” he jokes.

“yeah, past tense.” you lightly punch his shoulder. “i think when we moved for college, i was really insecure about our friendship, because we had no true bond, you know? i think i convinced myself that i had a crush on you, when in reality, i just knew you were slipping away from me.”

“or maybe you were swept away by my good looks and charming personality?”

“actually, i think it was the former.”

“i mean it’s just a possibility.”

“now i’m definitely sure it was the former.” you smile, thinking about how you were falling back into your old banter.

“okay, ouch.” the silence came again, but this time it was comfortable – something you hadn’t felt in a long time. “i wish you told me sooner.” he says after a while.

“why does it matter?”

“i would have never let us get to this point if i knew how you felt before. i felt us drifting apart and after you left i was really embarrassed. it was easier to blame you and push you away. i really miss you and i want us to be friends.” you look into his eyes and you can tell that he was being genuine; not just saying what you wanted to hear. “truly friends; not just childhood friends.”

"i want that too."

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[auteurdelabre]

Something to Fight For (SERIES) Part 11

Word Count: 7.0

Pairing: Dad!Joel Miller x f!reader (no use of y/n, no age or physical descriptions)

WARNINGS: Sexual innuendo, sad angsty shit.

A/N: The story is gonna twist and turn and you may want to jump ship. But I hope you can trust that as your captain I’m gonna get our two leads to a safe and happy shore.

Being with Tess is easy. 

She likes the same movies as Joel, drinks the same beer, and has a kid the same age. She hates sardines and black and white movies. She's a nurse, so nothing much fazes her. She fits well with Joel.

Sarah and Daniel don't know Joel and Tess are dating. As far as the kids know it's just play dates more often and the occasional dinner.  

Tess has every other weekend free. Daniel goes to visit his dad then, plus half the summer. On those weekends Tess comes over after Sarah is asleep. She stays the night in Joel's bed and leaves before Sarah wakes up. She's aggressive in bed which is a nice change of pace for Joel. 

She tells Joel everything. What she loves about her job, her hopes and aspirations. She confides in him when she's anxious about Daniel being at his dad's. There's nothing hidden, nothing secreted away.

It's only been a few weeks but Joel likes it. It feels comfortable. He doesn't worry that Tess will stop calling. He doesn't worry that Sarah is getting too attached.

He just exists in it. 

And if he thinks about you sometimes so what? If he stands in the shower, water running down his back in rivulets as he thrusts into his fists and comes holding in the moan of your name, so what? 

It doesn't mean anything. 

But then last night. The horrible thing he said to you. The way you'd looked at him with such disgust in your features.

"I'm not her mother"

"Damn right you're not."

He wakes the next morning with a stone in his stomach. His bed is full of Tess and her sweet smelling hair and her sleepy smile when she rolls over. But he can't smile back. He can't do anything because he's hurt you. He hurt you in a way that wasn't fair. And you're mad at him and why shouldn't you be? He had so many ways of approaching it, so many ways he could have told you and instead he fell back into what he always finds familiar; irritation and anger. Those emotions are safe, those emotions keep him strong.

But then why does he feel so weak right now?

He wants to phone you but knows how that went the last time.

He presses an absent kiss to Tess' temple as she leaves at dawns first light.

Then he rolls over, curling into himself, hating every moment of the last twenty four hours.

But mostly, he hates himself.

////

"YOU'RE FUCKING ENGAGED!"

"I'M FUCKING ENGAGED!"

You and Maria are jumping up and down in her kitchen, holding hands and giggling like you're teenagers again. She keeps spinning and holding her hand up to look at it.

"Isn't the ring perfect?"

"More than perfect!"

“I didn’t see it coming at all,” Maria enthuses. “I still can’t believe it.”

Your face is hurting from all your smiling. Seeing Maria so elated, so over the moon is making your heart expand bigger and bigger. 

"We're gonna do a little engagement dinner in a few weeks," Maria tells you. "With our best man and maid of honor!"

You do a little mock bow. The wedding is going to be a quick one. Maria and Tommy have never been over the top wedding people. Just something simple with family and a few friends in a few months. You know that this will mean more time with Joel and to your credit you don't wince or act horrified when Maria mentions about you and Joel being in the wedding party. You smile and hug her and say that you can't wait.

But memories of that last conversation you had with Joel are seared into your brain.

And while everything in you commands you to run and hide from the conflict, you raised the phone to your ear later that night, breathing shakily. 

You're not losing Sarah. 

You may have lost Joel in all this bullshit, but you're not losing Sarah. 

Your hand is trembling so severely you hit the wrong buttons on your phone and have to redial. 

"Hello."

"Joel, we need to talk. I know you're busy so I'll keep it brief," you say trying to quell the panic creeping into your voice at his flat greeting. "It's about the other night."

There's a long sigh.

"It was fucking horrible of me to say. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I tossed the money at you like that, like some fucking asshole.” You can hear him and he’s pacing, the familiar creak of his kitchen floor sounding over the phone. “I’ve been thinking about it since you left last night and I’m fucking sick about it. I just. . . I wanted to call but I thought you’d want me to leave you alone and I just. . . I'm so fucking sorry, please forgive me.”

He trails off and you stare at your phone. You weren’t expecting that. You think you’d been ready for him to be more defensive. So it throws you, causing you to speak stilted and stumble over your words.

"W-well, It’s just… I just wanted. . . yeah, I forgive you. I wanted to say that I'm sorry."

You can hear the delay in his response, the surprise in his voice. "Wait… You're apologizing to me?"

"Yeah," you nod even though he can't see it. "I mean at first I was really pissed off. And I still am about some stuff.  But, then, I thought about it and I think I can see why you were upset. I didn't talk to you or Sarah the whole time I was gone."

Joel gives a small hum in response.

“It was wrong of me to do that.”

And suddenly you can't speak because now there’s a knot in your throat that you're having trouble swallowing through. You hear him moving back and you imagine that he's moved to sit on his sofa. The silence stretches on to an uncomfortable length and you hear Joel clear his throat.

“S'okay if I say something?”

You choke out a sound of agreement.

"Michelle said she'd always love Sarah," Joel says in a voice of quiet solemnity. "But if that were the case it wouldn't have been so easy for her to leave."

You find your voice at that. "That was different, Joel."

"Not to Sarah. You know how she is about her Mom. She barely knew her and she’s still devastated about it. The photos, the stories help but there will always be that missing piece in her that I can’t fix.” His voice catches before steadying.  “It's easy for some people to say they love a person. It's the sticking around that's hard."

"I know."

"And I know you say you had your reasons and I know you never would do anything to hurt Sarah on purpose but the fact of the matter is you did." Joel sounds like he's taking a shuddering breath. "You know she asked me why you hadn't come around? When I told her I didn't know she asked if you were mad at her." 

Sarah had thought you were mad at her? You could not feel worse if you tried. You take a steadying breath, your eyes slamming shut.

"I'm sorry," you say, your throat tight. "I'm so fucking sorry."

Now the tears come, soft and silent. You're so thankful Joel can't see them over the phone. You can hear him sigh gently and it's the sigh of a man whose walls are coming down.

"I know," Joel says soothingly and if he were there with you, you just know he’d be holding you in his arms. "I know you are. And I'm sorry too. It was a knee-jerk reaction.  Its just she's my kid and hearing you say you love her was terrifying. All I could think was how heartbroken she’d be when you never came back."

"I understand."

You hadn't wanted to talk about this. Hadn't wanted to bring up the horrible trip back to Chicago. But you can feel Joel slipping away from you and you panic. 

"If you give me a chance I'll explain what happened when I was gone. I'll tell you everything."

Pathetic hope flares in you. If you explain maybe there's hope. Maybe he'll --

"I don't want you to do that. Don't want you feeling like you have to talk about something that'll upset you.”

“You wanted to know,” you say with a panic in your chest.

“But there's no real point, is there? Doesn't change anything," Joel murmurs. "What's done is done n' I'm with Tess now. I don't want you dragging stuff up that'll make things hard. I don't want you hurtin'.”

Don't you fucking sniffle.

"Right, yeah," you answer him through tightly closed eyes. "Of course."

Don't let him hear you cry.

He's with Tess. There's no confusion there, no wiggle room. You dig your fingernails into your palm to keep from crying, leaving tiny crescent moons in the flesh of your hand

"Just know that I'll always be there for Sarah," you swear this oath ardently. "As long as she needs me, I'll be there. I know you don't trust that right now and that's okay, I don't blame you. If I was her parent I'd probably feel exactly the same. But I need you to know that I mean it. I love her, I really do. I wasn't lying about that."

Joel is silent and you can imagine him looking off into the distance in that silent, introspective way of his. 

“You mean a lot to Sarah and to me too. Even if we can’t be together like I thought, you mean something to me. I don’t want you gone from our lives. You asked if we could be friends and . . .” You hear him inhale sharply. “I wanna give it a shot.”

Is this what heartbreak feels like? This searing pain that goes through a person’s sternum? It sure as fuck feels like it. More acute that anything you felt with Paul, stronger despite the shorter time frame you’ve had with Joel. Well, you had nothing with Joel did you? Not even a day.

"I want that too. I know what it's like to feel abandoned by people you care about," you offer, your fingernails digging into your palm further. "I would never want to do that to Sarah."

"I know that," Joel assures,  and his voice holds all the warmth of the world. "I know you never meant to hurt her. And again I’m sorry for what I said; it was a horrible fucking thing to say and I didn’t mean it."

All you want is to be there in that house in his arms.

"I'm sorry too. I really am. I hope one day you and Sarah can forgive me."

"Forgiveness was never the issue," Joel replies softly. "You had that the minute you asked for it. It's the forgetting that's hard."

"Yeah."

The forgetting.

///

Time has a funny way of making you remember. 

You thought you'd never see him again. 

Never see the way his black hair falls into his blue eyes. Never see the shy way his mouth quirks when you say something funny. 

And yet here you are at a nearby coffee shop talking to Paul. Paul, the man who broke your heart.

He looks better than you remember. He finally got a better haircut. He seems calmer than before as well, his lithe body leaning back in the chair regarding you as the cafe bustles around you.

You've just finished telling him about the sanctuary and he responded in exactly the way you wanted, with a kind of truthful enthusiasm that made you fall for him in the first place. 

"That's amazing," he enthuses shaking his head in disbelief. "Scratch that, you're amazing. Look at how much you've done for that place."

"Not just me," you insist, feeling guilty about taking all the credit. 

"Ah yes," Paul takes a sip of his coffee. "How is James?"

"Alex, actually. James resigned."

"Oh wow," Paul looks shocked by this. You consider talking to him about James being a big booger sugar fan but then decide against it.  But you do tell him about getting kennels built and how your office has been renovated.

Paul has always had this ability to make you feel like the most fascinating person on the planet. When you talk he really listens. 

You've missed that. 

When his face grow sober and he puts the mug next to yours on the table, you immediately tense. Paul means across the table, his hand clutching yours. You note this with passivity. 

"I'm so sorry for what happened. Your mom told me."

"How?"

"She called me." Paul is tilting his head slightly, a habit that always reminds you of the dogs you see at work. 

"Why would you be in contact with my mom?"

"We talk sometimes."

"You do?"

"Of course," Paul replies softly. "Until this most recent one, you weren't returning any of my texts and I was worried. I wanted to check up on you."

Irritation goes through your veins like a drug. You pull your hand back from his, wrapping it around your mug. 

"You broke up with me, Paul, remember? Why would I be responding to your texts?"

"Because it's not like we broke up because we stopped loving each other," Paul insists. "We just wanted different things at different times."

You lapse into silence, considering this. He's not completely wrong, you surmise. For you, it had been the bitter end of a relationship, for Paul. It seems it was simply a pause. 

"I told you I'd always love you," Paul continues. "And I meant it."

"You also told me we were drifting apart."

"its how I felt at the time," Paul answers honestly. His eyes trace your face in a way that feels tender. “I wanted to go on tour, I wanted to bring music to people. You used to want that too.”

“Yeah, well,” you clear your throat, moving back in your chair and shrugging. “Things change. I changed.”

“I know something about change,” Paul offers with a shy smile. "I got a job teaching music. Doesn't pay a ton but it's reliable."

This shocks you. Paul had been so dedicated to his music, so invested in making it his everyday reality by touring all over. 

"What about Jack and the band?"

"Weekends," Paul shrugs. "A hobby."

You’re gobsmacked. A year ago you had needed to split up because of Paul’s unwavering belief that touring with Jack was what needed to happen. That he would live the rest of his life unfulfilled if he didn’t.

And now he sitting here across from you, offering himself up as the exact man you wanted him to be?

Timing is everything.

Fucking timing.

"A lot has changed in a year," you say coolly.

"A year without you has felt longer," Paul confides. "Thought I knew what I wanted. But playing music and touring? It's not the same when you don't have your person to come home to."

You hate the way your treacherous heart lurches at that. Your bruised heart you’ve tried to mend. 

"I missed you, baby."

You feel all the hurt from the past few weeks with Joel heavy on your heart. The realization that yet another relationship didn't work out for you.  The thought that maybe there’s a reason things never work and maybe it has everything to do with you and being unlovable.

"I missed you too, Paul." 

And it's true, you did miss Paul. You'd loved Paul for so long. And even though that love is buried you think that maybe, just maybe, there's a chance for revival if it’s cared for and nurtured.

You talk for a long time. You talk about what it would mean to be back together. You talk about your fears and what it would look like to be a couple again. You talk until the woman who runs the cafe politely tells you to leave. 

Paul wants you, even after everything. Paul is here, not Joel. It will never again be Joel. 

So later that night when Paul gently guides your mouth to his you let him. You let him hold you and kiss you and you think that this is all you can hope for. 

This is all you deserve. 

///

You and Maria pull into the parking lot of the restaurant to celebrate the engagement. You're thankful it's not the shitty Italian place you had your first 'date' with Joel.  This place is more casual with a pub-like ambiance. Despite this, you've dressed up a bit. Done your hair nicely and pressed perfume to your neck. 

Maria thinks you're all done up for her for her engagement party and remarks how beautiful you look, but this isn't true. You did it because as his best man, you know Joel will be there. 

The thought of a whole evening with Joel would have intimidated you a week ago, but after your phone conversation you feel excited to see him. Plus he's undoubtedly brought Sarah and she is the brightest of bright spots. 

"Over here!" Tommy calls and as you turn your head to follow Maria you see Joel sitting at the table beside a beautiful woman who smiles up at you as Maria and you approach. 

He brought Tess? 

The minute he sees you, a look crosses Joel’s face. A look that you can’t actually decipher. He murmurs something to Tess and then he’s moving from the table towards the washrooms. You don’t bothering watching him go.

Tommy offers you and Maria your seats next to his at the booth. You’re directly across from Tess and Joel. You want to hold in a groan.

“Hi, I’m Tess,” the woman says with a small wave from her side of the table. You wave back, introducing yourself.  Tommy pushes a menu towards you and you busy yourself reading the specials, trying to stop the galloping of your heart. 

“Joel says you're the best babysitter," Tess enthuses with a broad smile, determined to talk to you. "And Sarah never stops talking about you. I feel like I'm meeting a celebrity."

"Mmm." You feel sick to your stomach. "Where is Sarah? I thought she'd be here."

"I convinced Joel to let my mom take care of the kids tonight," Tess explains. "Took a lot of convincing though. You know how stubborn he can be."

"Oh sure," you say glumly. 

Tess seems to want to say more but Joel has returned from the washroom and slid into the chair next to Tess and across from you. You could be mistaken but his temples look damp, like he splashed water on his face. 

"Did I miss anything?" he asks, looking between you and Tess.

"Just saying how my mom is babysitting the kids so we could come solo tonight," Tess smiles at him. 

You toss back your drink.  "Does she have her first aid?"

"Huh?" Tess is looking at you confused.

"Your mom. Does she have CPR training?" You continue. "Can she drive at night if there's an emergency?"

"Hey." Joel's voice is a low warning, his eyes narrowed. 

But Tess's face has broken into amusement and she's laughing in a way that can only be described as musical. She rubs Joel's arm with affection. 

"Joel she's kidding."

"Yeah," you say with a forced smile. "Kidding."

"Maria told me you were funny," Tess acknowledges. You don't know what to say to that. You give a polite nod before everyone's attention is drawn to the end of the table. Maria and Tommy are seated there. Tommy has his arm around Maria and she's nestled under his armpit like she was made to be there. 

"Thanks for coming out," Tommy says raising a glass. “Just a little something to celebrate us getting’ engaged. Nothing fancy but let’s raise a glass and…Well, except maybe you. You keep your glass on the table.”

Tommy winks at you as he motions to your pint, the meaning obvious and Maria lets out a barking laugh, turning to you and shaking her head.

“I can’t believe you did that.”

“Tommy!’ You defend, your cheeks flaming. “You told her?”

“He couldn’t stop laughing telling me,” Maria informs you. Tess and Joel are looking at the three of you dissolving into giggles, confusedly.  Tommy sobers quickly, raising his glass once more.

“To finding the right person,” he says warmly. “To love.”

You raise your glass along with the rest of the table, tapping it gently against Tess’s glass when she leans over with her glass extended. You ignore Joel when his tips towards you. Instead you drink deeply, letting the hoppy ale coat your tongue.

You learn more about Tess because she never seems to stop talking. She's a nurse. She's a beer fan. She's nuts about horses. Of course she is. She probably has a secret collection of flannel shirts too.

With every new detail you find yourself pouring another glass of beer from the communal pitchers. The beer momentarily makes you feel more affectionate towards the group, even annoying ol' Tess who seems determined to talk the entire fucking night. 

She's pretty. Closer to Joel's age and very confident. That's the only word you can think to describe her. The way she carries herself, the way she can just interject comments into the conversation all night as if she's been part of the group forever.

“We’re going to the site tomorrow morning early,” Tess enthuses now. “Can’t wait to see it.”

"Oh, are you a construction worker as well as a nurse?"  You don't mean for it to sound snarky, but it comes out harsh and ugly. 

Maria and Tommy shoot you a similar surprised look with raised brows. Joel is glowering at you and Tess is laughing awkwardly. 

"I just mean," you scramble, trying to salvage your faux pas. "You seem to know -"

You watch as she wraps a hand over his shoulder, resting her chin there and looking at Joel fondly. 

"I just wanted to see where my man spends all his time." 

My man. 

Thankfully the waitress is there with pitchers of beer for the table before you can say something hideous. You throw yours back by the time everyone is just finishing their first sips. Maria is still looking at you incredulously. 

"Are you seeing anyone?" Tess asks you politely. And now you can feel so many sets of eyes on you, it causes your skin to crawl. You think about your audience, unsure if you should answer.

But then you feel like there’s this overwhelming air of pity around the table as they look at you. You suppose this is what motivates you to answer how you do.

"Uh, yeah," you nod looking at your dinner. "His name's Paul."

There’s the sharp clattering of cutlery and you wince. You just know that Maria heard you.

"Wait, did you say Paul?" Maria is leaning forward to see you down the table. You can feel her eyes on you. "When did that happen?"

"Maria," Tommy says placing a calming hand over hers. 

"Sorry," Maria says blinking rapidly and forcing a smile. "I just didn't know. Just caught me off guard."

"Wait, Paul Paul?," Tommy says now as his mind finally connects the dots. "The guy you dated before? The musician?"

Please stop. Just stop asking me-

"I thought this whole dinner was about celebrating your engagement," Joel says coolly. "So let's talk about it. Mainly, how much do I have to spend on your bachelor party when you did fuck all for mine, Tommy?"

The tension is broken for the moment and the group laughs before it falls into a comfortable pattern of chatting. For a moment you’re suddenly grateful to Joel for diverting the conversation.  

You begin to like the beer, even though you've never been a big drinker. You like it because it makes you feel fuzzy and warm. 

You try your best not to look at Joel through the dinner. But he's across from you so it's hard. His kneecap brushes yours at one point and you nearly jump out of your skin. It's when he shifts, putting his arm on the seat behind Tess, letting his hand drift lazily against her shoulder that a sudden anger unleashes itself in you. 

All the goodwill you have for Joel from that phone conversation seems to be ebbing away with every pint you throw back. He's sitting there practically rubbing it in your face that he's with Tess!

Fuck Joel Miller. Fuck him for thinking its fine to tell you how much he cares about you and then find another woman so easily. If he liked you so much why were you so easy to replace?

The meal is almost over when you get a buzz on your hip. You pull out your phone under the table and see Paul has sent you a message.

C u at home gorgeous. I'll bring dessert.

You swallow thickly before placing the phone back in your pocket. You feel eyes on you and glance up to see Joel studying you from across the table. You pour yourself another beer. 

"How many is that?" Joel murmurs in a low voice only you can hear. The rest of the group is chatting at the other end of the table. 

"Last time I counted it was..." You adopt a contemplative look, pretending to add in your head before your face drops. "Oh right, none of your business."

You throw the drink back with renewed gusto. Joel watches this silently, his face revealing nothing, before his attention is back to the group.

You start to understand why people love beer so much. It makes you numb to the fact that Maria looked horrified at the thought of you being back with Paul. It makes you impervious to the sight of Tess caressing Joel's forearm in front of you, as if she's purposely trying to rub it in.

"Maria I forgot to tell you, I found the best charity shop by the boulevard." 

"Please tell me it's nothing like the last one you dragged me to," Maria says with a chuckle. "I'm still finding glitter all over my closet!"

She and Tess break into high pitched giggles. Your fork stills on your plate at the sound.

Wait. Maria and Tess have been hanging out just the two of them? It's not enough that she's taken Joel, now she's gonna come for Maria too? 

A coiling tendril of insecurity and anger starts to move through you and as if she can sense it, Tess turns and smiles in your direction. 

"You should come with us next time! Maybe we can find some good stuff for the wedding."

She's coming to the wedding?! She's known Maria and Tommy for what, a month, maybe two, and now she's invading the wedding? A sickening sensation is taking you over. A sensation that has nothing to do with Tess’ offer and everything to do with wanting to slap Joel fucking Miller across his beautiful, horrible face.

"I'm busy," you mutter. 

Tess's smile is fading and the rest of the group is now staring at you awkwardly. Except for Joel, he's openly glaring at you. You can see the muscle in his jaw working overtime as he pins you with his gaze. 

Tess glances at Maria and then back to you giving a weak laugh. "But, I didn't say when we were going." 

Fuck.

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. You want to be anywhere but here. You hate the pitying look Tommy is sending you even worse than the open hostility that Joel is. 

Maria seems to sense your discomfort because she's talking loudly about dessert. Everyone agrees that a tart sounds great. 

You take this opportunity to slink off to the bathroom feeling properly admonished. You move with a slight wobble as you stand, finding it much harder to walk now that the restaurant is so packed and the room seems to be tilted. 

You stand outside the washroom door, hidden behind the wall for a few moments. Is it too late to just run? No, fuck, your purse and phone are back at the table. Maybe you can tell everyone you got food poisoning?

"The fuck are you doing?"

Your eyes dart to the approaching figure of Joel. He rounds the corner, stalking towards you like a creature of terrifying grace. He comes to stand inches from you, so close you have to tilt back a bit to see his face. 

"Whadda you mean?" You say trying to keep the slur from your voice. 

"Being a bitch to Tess for no reason? Getting wasted?" Joel replies pointedly. "In all the time I've known you, I've never seen you have more than one drink."

"I'm not drunk," you counter even as you struggle to focus on his increasingly blurry face. "You don't see me all the time Joel. You don't know if I drink or not. You actually don't know me at all."

"I do know you," Joel replies in a voice so dark and low it feels siphoned from the soles of his work boots. "You think all you deserve is that asshole that left you."

You give a scoffing noise. Joel Miller of all people is trying to give you relationship advice? 

Joel continues, his neck bending so he can keep your eyes. "Hell, I don't think you even like him. He's just convenient."

You want to scream in his face. You want to pummel his strong chest. And you want to hug him, to have him hold you. It's so complicated being around Joel and it infuriates you that you still feel this way knowing you can't have him. 

"What do you care?" You shoot back, holding the door to the washroom to keep your balance. You make sure to pitch your voice low and quiet so the table can’t overhear. "You have perfect Tess and now you'll have a perfect family and a perfect life. How perfectly fucking perfect for you."

You know you sound absolutely crazy as you say this to him, your eyes half closed in a drunken stupor as you sway in place. Joel looks exasperated.

“You said you wanted to be friends.”

"You guys sleep together yet?” you say over him, not hearing what he’s just said. “You tell her the same stuff you told me that night?"

Joel's gaze hardens. His shoulders are shaking as he breathes in and out at a rapid pace. You want to punch something. Mainly Joel’s face.

"You tell her that you want her for your own? That you need to taste her? You probably do. I was such a fucking idiot."

You go to walk away but Joel is stopping you, his hand on your shoulder keeping you there by pressing it to the wall. He does it lightly and you know if you pulled away from him he’d let you go. But his eyes pin you to the wall, keeping you there.

"Tess doesn't walk out when things get tough," Joel tells you in a low whisper. "She doesn't tell me how she feels and then leave and ignore me for weeks."

"Nope. She's perfect."

"She doesn't need to be perfect. She just needs to talk to me, to not run away from me." Joel is inches from your face. "Do you know how I felt when I heard from Tommy that you'd been talking to Maria the whole time you were gone?" 

You're surprised by this. You weren't aware he'd known anything about your trip away, including who you talk to.  

"I told you how I felt about you and then you pick up and leave," Joel says in a voice that feels dragged from the base of his abdomen. "And I was the one here panicking, calling you, begging for you to call me back like a fucking loser."

"You’re not-"

"You never called once."

"I couldn't."

"You called Maria." Joel defends. 

"Maria is like my family," you say with a deep frown, irritated that you have to defend yourself. "I've known her since we were teenagers."

Joel is silent, his face drawn into a cold frown. 

"Joel, I couldn't call you. We were so... fresh, so new." You run your hands through your hair, tugging. "I couldn't stand the thought of dragging you down with me."

His eyes are searching yours. "That wasn't just for you to decide."

"Yes it was!" you insist, your voice wobbling. "I get to decide when and what I share, Joel."

"You do," Joel replies airily. "Just don't expect everyone to be waiting around for you when you finally decide to do it."

"You certainly weren't," you bite back. "How long after you told me about all those feelings did you go running off to Tess?"

Silence.

“C'mon Joel," you demand, your drunkenness feeding your ire. "All those feelings you claimed you had churning up inside you. Where did they go so quickly? Be honest." 

If looks could kill you'd be dead five times over. He pulls back, his hand moving from your shoulder and falling to his hip.

"Or maybe they weren't as strong as you led me to believe," you say swaying as you try to keep your gaze focused. "Maybe you just liked the attention, Joel. And now you have someone new, someone easier, someone who doesn’t know that you ran just as quickly as I did."

Joel shuts his eyes and takes a deep, steadying breath, it's slow and even and you are terrified at the sound of it. It's as if he's a giant balloon releasing all the hateful tension of the last five minutes.

“I wanted you so fucking badly. I told you things I’ve never told anyone. Ever. Not even Tommy.”

You feel sick to your stomach listening to Joel because in all the time you’ve known him you don’t remember him sounding this defeated. Then his eyes open and it's like you've been kicked in the gut. All the hatred and the fury you'd been expecting is gone. Instead all that remains is a naked sorrow that makes you do a double take. 

“And I get to your house that morning and you won’t look at me and your bag is packed and all I can think is that it’s Michelle all over again. So yeah, I fucked up and left. I’m sorry.” Joel’s breathing is unsteady. “But you don’t get to act like it’s the same as what you did to me. I called you how many times that day to apologize? And I didn’t expect you tell me everything. I just wanted to know you were okay. I wanted to be there for you. And you shut me out.”

Please Joel. Please don’t look at me like that. Not with eyes that sad.

“And you don’t want me. That’s fine. You tell me you want to be friends? I agree to it. I moved on with a woman who has made it clear that she wants all of me and you’re mad at me for it?”

Are you mad? Its what you wanted wasn't it? Less complication? Joel as your friend?

So then why are you this fucking angry?

"I. . . I thought you wanted us to be friends," he says in a voice so quiet you almost don’t hear it. 

You stare up at him, blinking as his words register with you. Friends. You can't be friends with Joel Miller. Not when you like him this much. Not when the sight of him still makes your stomach do cartwheels.  

But there’s still a fire in your belly, multiplied by the alcohol but definitely not reliant on it.

"I don't want to be your friend," you bite back. "I don't need you using me as free babysitting so you can go off with Tess and get your dick wet." 

This is the ugliest thing you've ever said to him. Maybe to anyone. It's such a cruel, twisted thing to say to a man who has done nothing besides not wait around for you to decide whether you like him or not. Joel stares down at you with a look of such disappointment you're convinced you could shrivel away to nothing under it.

"That was a shitty fucking thing to say."

You wonder if he's going to yell at you or slap the wall beside your head. You never find out because Maria rounds the corner to see you both locked in a mutual glare. 

"Hey guys, was wondering where you got off to," Maria says eye-balling you both. Its clear there is tension, made even more obvious by the seething glare Joel shoots you before stalking back to the table.

You both watch him leave and then Maria is staring at you with a look of someone solving a very large and very obvious puzzle. 

"You like Joel."

You want to shake your head and insist that she's wrong. You want to deny everything and force a laugh. But instead your head drops forward onto your sternum and you're holding in tears.

"Yeah." 

Maria brings you stumbling into her arms and guides you to exit the restaurant. She's brought your purse and she holds you steady as you weave out the doors. 

"I'm taking you home."

"The dinner -"

"Over anyway," Maria insists as you both buckle in. "The dessert was disgusting."

She lets you sit in silence the entire drive home but inside the suite after leading you to your sofa, Maria fixes you with a stern look.

"So how long? And you better be fucking honest with me now."

"A while," you admit. 

You tell her about the butterfly's at trivia. You tell her about the kennels he spent hours making for you. You tell her about the ice cream and the park.  The way you’d felt when Joel took your hand in his, driving you home after James. You tell her about his finger tracing your lip. You tell her about the kiss at the party. You tell her about how beautiful he kisses and how he told you how he felt. You tell her everything because she’s Maria and not telling her has been hurting you more than you realized.  (You don’t tell her about after the party though because. . . Well, some things are sacred to you alone.)

She holds you and she wipes your tears when you tell her about what you said to Joel at the party.

“I am not team Joel by any means, but why didn’t you just call him?”

“I couldn’t, Maria,” you say with a quivering chin. “I just couldn’t let him know that part of my life. Not yet. And now look how quickly he moved on. I was gone for what, a month?”

“Honey,” she says in a way that feels far too maternal coming from a woman near to your age. She pulls you into her arms again and you cry there, hating everything about that night and how much it has ruined. “Look at it this way, he admits everything to you, you leave and don’t call for six weeks. He thinks ‘oh fuck, she doesn’t want me like I want her. I’m an idiot. Plus I have a kid who’s grown attached. I better get out now.’”

“And get with another woman?”

“Joel is a guy. Guys are simple,” Maria explains  flatly. “He has an ego and you crushed it when you left and ignored him. So he found a woman who built it back up. Made him feel good. A woman who he can see without it being weird for Sarah. A woman who, let’s be honest, is hot and cool and doesn’t really demand much of Joel aside from his time and attention.”

Maria is right. You know it. Tess is a better fit for Joel and Sarah.

You think back to your childhood, sometime between the good and bad years. You were no more than seven and you came upon an abandoned kitten half buried under leaves in the park, left by its mother. It was small, a runt, and probably hours away from dying.

You'd rushed home with it in your jacket, your little heart pounding as you brought it to your mother. A wise woman with a sensitive heart to animals. Of course she helped you bathe it, feed it, nurse it back to life. For two weeks you and that kitten were inseparable. You held him tightly to you, warming him. You read him stories and you sang sweet melody's as he slept. And he grew, his mewls turning from sad yips to mighty meow's. He began to follow you around the house, playfully nipping at your heels as you squealed with delight.

You told everyone at school about the kitten who you named Marmalade because of his orange color. And one Wednesday two weeks after you discovered him you arrived home to see his blanket at the end of your bed was gone. The carrier you'd bought was missing from the hall closet and when you ran to your mother terrified she had told you what you would ultimately come to know: You'd thought love was enough and it wasn't. The cat needed more. A family that could take better care of it. 

You'd sobbed for hours with your mom rocking you in her arms.

"They have lots of money and room for him," your mom had told you as your face pressed into on her shoulder sniffling. "That kitten is going to have a better life then most people. Letting him go was the kindest thing you could have done, sweetheart."

You think of that kitten now as Maria mentions Tess and you realize that once more your love is not enough. Joel will be better off.

You can't keep him.

He's not yours.

[justagirlwholikesadam]

Farmer! Sandor Clegane Headcanon

don't own these pics

Summary: Just a few headcanon of Sandor Clegane as a farmer.

A/N: Thinking about this man as a farmer has me down on my knees. Comment and like below, maybe I can do next farmer Sandor meeting reader. Enjoy-L || Border Credit: @cafekitsune

Warning: SFW, sad childhood, Sandor being himself, dog dad,

Farmer!Sandor always knew he wanted to be a farmer from a young age. He liked working with his hands and moving around. He never wanted a desk job, he couldn't imagine his 6 '6 self sitting on a small computer chair for nine hours a day, five days a week. He had low patience dealing with idiot people, so retail was out of the question, any job that required dealing with people was a no. So far the only thing talking back to him were the animals on the farm and he was content with that. 

Farmer!Sandor isn't much of a people person but he will sometimes invite Tormund, a worker from the market he goes to for groceries once in a while over to watch the game or just for a beer. Sandor only does it because Tormund doesn't shut up about coming over. After two six-packs, Tormund isn't so bad to be around and he doesn’t ask him about his scars. 

Farmer!Sandor gets up right before the rooster crow at dawn. He likes to watch the sunrise while drinking black coffee. He nibbles on some toast or some corn muffins. On Sunday, he makes a big breakfast meal since it's the only day he rest. Eggs, bacon sometimes with ham and grits. 

Farmer!Sandor wears a white beater shirt and his dark coarse chest hair peeks out. It shows off his broad shoulders and his muscular arms, it was all thanks to the hard manual labor he does. He ties his long hair with a black hair band, he keeps a spare around his wrist. He wears old blue jeans that hang low on his hips. Sometimes he wears a flannel shirt, when it gets too hot, he takes it off and wraps it around his hips. He wears these heavy size 12 boots with rubber outsoles on them. 

Farmer!Sandor sweats alot after a long day of work. He uses the flannel to wipe the sweat off his forehead, neck and tone arms. He showers immediately after walking into the house. He leaves the boots outside and goes into the shower to clean the dirt and sweat off of his body. He makes sure he cleans himself, rubbing the body wash thoroughly through his chest hair and his long hair. 

Farmer!Sandor walks out of the shower and looks at himself in the mirror. His burn scars are a bit red from being out in the sun all day. He reminds himself for tomorrow to wear his hat. He grabs face cream from the medicine cabinet to help with the redness. Some days Sandor can't stand the sight of him, that's why he liked being alone in his farmhouse. He dislikes the stares and pointing he got when going into town. 

Farmer!Sandor still has issues about his face, it has gotten much better after going to the doctors. He has even done surgery for his hair to grow a bit, he usually combs his hair over to cover the slightly bald spot. He applies oils on his beard regularly and it helped his beard grow a bit back. His right brow has grown a bit as well, but the burn scars on his cheek and ear are still very visible. 

Farmer!Sandor dresses comfy to get started on dinner. He walks into the kitchen and turns on the radio or sometimes the tv. He's listening to the news while cutting some veggies he has grown from his garden in the backyard. He usually grills his steak in the backyard when he's not tired. Opening a beer, he sits down and eats in silence. Sometimes he eats in front of the tv and watches whatever is playing. He's not picky on what to watch on tv. 

Farmer!Sandor was on the field the next day on the tractor when he heard barking. He turns it off and looks over his shoulders to see it was a dog a few feet away from him. There isn't usually strays around, he makes sure of it since he has some chickens and pigs. He walks towards the dog, its shaggy fur is white and gray. Its ears are floppy and its tongue is hanging out as it pants. 

“You alright, pup?” He asked, not really expecting it to answer but to his surprise. It barks at him, making him smile.

He carefully stretches his hand out when he notices it wasn't going to bite. He pats its head and even scratches behind its ears. Asking if it wants to eat, the dog’s tail starts wagging like crazy. Sandor decides he’ll have lunch early that day. He smiles once more when he notices it’s following him all the way to the house.  He sits outside on the porch swing as he eats his sandwich and drinks a cold glass of ice tea. He watches the dog eat the leftover steak from dinner last night. 

Farmer!Sandor decides to keep the dog after it kept following him everywhere for the past week. When he finds out it’s a girl, he decides to name it after his little sister, Ellie. The dog didn’t seem to mind, it followed him whenever he said it. He liked having company, it was less lonely when he wasn’t working. He lets Ellie sleep on the foot of his bed.

Farmer!Sandor doesn't smoke that much, he really only does it when he has a rough day. He’s sitting on the porch swing with a beer in one hand and the cigarette in the other. Since he’s alone, he does alot of thinking as he watches the sunset. He thinks about his life before he started to farm. He has been thinking about his little sister lately since the dog came around. His little sister was his best friend when he was younger. He had told her about his dream of having a farm. He smiles to himself as he remembers her telling him that he had to have horses for her to ride. He promised her that he would when he was a kid he had even promised her that he would have two horses so they could ride together. 

Farmer!Sandor didn't have a good childhood, his parents were never around and his older brother was a bully. His older brother was the one to burn him when he was a kid. While holding his face on the hot coals, his little sister tried to help him. She hit the older brother on the back with her tiny fist. Furious that she was hitting him, he had smacked her. He hit her so hard that she fell back and slammed her head on the coffee table. Ellie lost a lot of blood on the way to the hospital and did not survive. His older brother was 18 at the time and was sentenced to prison. Parents couldn't handle it and left Sandor, who was placed in foster care. 

Farmer!Sandor gets brought back to reality when he feels Ellie rubbing her head against his knee. He threw the cigarette out and placed the beer on the small table near him. He pats the seat next to him and makes sure that the swing doesn't move as Ellie jumps up next to him. He leans back as she rests her head on his lap. Sandor pats her head softly as he looks over across the field and stares at the half built stable he was building, he was going to get those horses and complete his promise to his sister. 

[dragonnarrative-writes]

im gonna be honest, I keep rereading pt 3 and 4 of the slasher handler and fantasising about how incredibly sexy it would be if kyle acquired a handler of his own by accident or on purpose and he finally understands simon's obsession now 😵‍💫

Slasher Handler Masterlist

Kyle and Simon aren't friends, per se. They only met through Johnny, because Johnny is sloppy and impulsive and never knows how to clean up his own messes. It's offensive to Kyle's meticulous nature and, apparently, appeals to Simon's need for a pet.

Since Johnny's been serving time for the last nine months, with nine months to go (sloppy work, he's lucky Kyle was able to clean things up), Simon's gone to ground. Every now and then, news of his work pops up. Once, one of the victims had ended up at the hospital Kyle works at.

"The Ghost Killer strikes again! Ah...! Run...!" Kyle had muttered to himself, taking the unconscious young man's rapidly fading vitals. They'd found him in an abandoned building, an old hospital well outside of Simon's usual territory. Which means something has changed.

That evening, sipping a beer, he'd called Price on his burner.

"What can I do for you, Kyle?"

"Just letting you know that your dog is out of the yard. The big one, not the terrier," Kyle answers with a smile. "He left behind a bit of a mess, but there was only one little rabbit left suffering. I handled it."

Price had hummed on the other end. "I saw the news. 'S not like him. I'll check in." And then he'd hung up.

Months later, and Kyle finally has an answer when he catches Simon trailing behind a woman not once but three times. He's surprised to see her face, an old classmate and the justification for his second ever human kill. He's almost sad to know that she's been marked for death. When he hears about the Ski Lodge massacre and the Ghost copycat, he has a drink in her honor.

So it's a surprise when she reaches out to him online and asks to meet.

She's frazzled and wild-eyed when she sits in the chair across from him. She's also wearing one of Simon's beanies. And when she reveals what Simon's been up to, he can't help but laugh.

Simon - the weird, off-putting, murderous Ghost - has somehow managed to find the one person in the world who devotes herself to a project more than him. The Final Girl Girlfriend.

They're both doomed.

Kyle begins the painstaking process of reviewing his daily journals for mentions of Simon and their shared connections. It's very unlikely that Simon would be caught alive, and even more unlikely that he'd say anything about Kyle or Johnny or Price. But unlikely isn't impossible, so it's important to start getting his stories straight now.

Reviewing, flagging, and annotating his journals from his initial meeting with Johnny to now takes a month and three days. It's always an interesting process, looking at his life with the advantage of hindsight. There's always a new fascinating pattern to examine. For example, that first summer, he'd meet with Johnny every other week, and two and six days later, he'd gradually step up a patient's blood thinners.

Another pattern that's emerged is that he hasn't dated anyone for more than 35 days in the last three years. That's about as long as it takes for his exacting nature to become... a conflict. It's not much of a problem. He's a nurse, he works long hours. He's got a gym routine and volunteers at the local pet rescue once a week. He's a part of the community, so he doesn't stick out as a loner. But he's also solidly at a point in his life where someone would expect him to have a partner.

He makes an online dating profile. It takes a week for him to delete the app.

"Darlene," he greets the head nurse with a smile and her favorite coffee at the beginning of his next shift. "How are you today?"

"Kyle." As always, she barely glances at him, just holds out her hand for her drink. "You're early. What do you want?"

She's right, he's thirty minutes early. He grins. "You wound me. Can't I just want to know how a beautiful woman is doing?"

Darlene gives him a blank look over the top of her bifocals. "Save it for the maternity ward, Garrick. What do you want?"

"Just wanna know the lay of the land," he says, coming around the desk and taking the seat next to her. He likes Darlene because she only expects him to be coy for a short time. "Been on the apps, trying to date. But my hours make things difficult. You know everybody's business. How is anyone in a relationship around here?"

"The surgeons are all on meth, the rest of the doctors are on coke, and the nurses are either fucking each other or their high school sweethearts," Darlene says, dry as a desert. "You know this already. What do you actually want?"

"That's it," he says with a shrug. "Just want to know who's not seeing anyone, or if you know of someone at another campus with the time."

She takes a sip of her coffee and thinks for a moment. "Stay off the psych and plastics floors. Maternity floor's about to get a whole new batch since all of those idiots got pregnant within three months of each other. But there's something in the water up there, so unless you also want a baby, I'd say leave them alone."

"James is on the maternity floor," Kyle points out.

"James cheated on his boyfriend and his side piece with another nurse," Darlene points out, settling into her coffee and gossip. "Which is another reason to stay away from plastics, but also trauma and rads. I didn't know you were bisexual."

"Doesn't come up much," Kyle dismisses, sipping his own coffee.

By the time Kyle has to clock in, they've explored the pros and cons of almost every department. The prospects are pretty grim. Maybe being single isn't the worst thing in the world.

He makes a point of spending time with the other nurses for the next month. He goes out for drinks and karaoke, attends a couple of baby showers. Lets on to a couple of gossips that he's looking, tells another that he's not sure he has time to date. Enjoys the conclusion of a project when a racist old bastard finally has the heart attack he can't bounce back from.

And then the nurse coroner flags the death for investigation.

Kyle doesn't panic because technically all deaths in the hospital are investigated. But he is intrigued. His own notes show that the patient's condition was well within the expected parameters of recovery and relapse. His medications were administered appropriately while Kyle was on shift, and the hydrogen peroxide added to his IV would have been nigh undetectable.

In the end, the hospital is not determined to be at fault for the death, and that's all that administration cares about. But the cause of death is changed from heart attack to embolism in the record, and that is intriguing.

"Knock knock," Kyle says, poking his head into the office area of the morgue. He expects to see Dennis, the older gentleman running the morgue unit, who waves back at him. He doesn't expect the new face, sitting across the desk from him.

"Good morning, Kyle," Dennis greets, waving him in. "Been a bit since you've come to see us. Care for some tea?"

"Can't," Kyle says, apologetically. "Just dropping someone off."

"Well, at least let me introduce our new nurse!"

The new nurse gives him a no-nonsense handshake and a nod. They don't say much beyond their name, and Kyle is pleased to put a face to the name on the investigation into his last project. He wasn't exaggerating when he said he couldn't stay long, so he says his goodbyes.

But when his next completed project is flagged for investigation again, he decides that maybe it's time to take an interest.

[senorabond]

Rumor Has It: Chapter 9 Peña x f!reader x Pike

Pairings: Marcus Pike x f!reader; Javier Peña x f!reader; future Peña x f!reader x Pike

Chapter 9 Summary: Flashback: All rules go out the window the first time you and Marcus are truly alone.

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI), Explicit sexual content, additional warnings may be added for future chapters

Chapter Warnings: no use of y/n, flashback, workplace romance, oral sex (m receiving), Marcus being the softest saddest boy, bearded!Marcus, ‘good girl’ origin story

Reader/Character notes: Reader is fem!afab; No mention of Reader’s body size, shape, composition, or skin color.

Words: 4.4k

Author’s Note: I wrote most of this at the same time I was writing chapter 8; I just couldn’t get this image out of my head of sad-boi!Marcus, watching his classic films, eating his pint of Ben & Jerry’s… I decided to break up this flashback as well because there is so much I want to do with bearded Marcus and the word count was getting untenable. 

Thank you to my darling, my lovely beta, Kilamonster! I’m forever grateful for your unceasing encouragement and feedback. Besitos para ti 💋💜

Dividers by @saradika!

Masterlist || Previous Chapter

One Year EarlierWashington, D.C. 

Pike had been acting weird ever since he went on that work trip to give a deposition. At first you thought he was just grumpy from being jet lagged, or perhaps the deposition hadn’t gone well. His office door was closed most of the time, which was very unusual for him. 

The poor man looked like somebody had run over his dog. You’d never seen him look so haggard in all the months you’d been detailed to his unit. His shoulders drooped, his shirts were wrinkled, and his usually well-groomed appearance turned a bit unkempt. You had to admit the beard he’d been growing for awhile had a rakish charm about it. He’d let his hair grow out, and the forelock that fell over his forehead was simply dreamy and emphasized his large, coffee colored eyes. Apparently the sad boy look did it for you.

You saw a few members of his team try various things to engage with him, inviting him to happy hours and trivia nights, bringing him coffee and pastries each morning. He was always grateful, insisted on paying for the food and drinks, but declined all invitations. Whispers were starting to circulate about various reasons for the change in Pike’s demeanor. 

You hate rumors. Which is how you find yourself sitting in your car on a Friday night, fully intending to go to the gym, but thinking about Pike instead. This had gone on long enough. Either he needed to be snapped out of it, or needed a friend to talk to about whatever he’s going through. 

Instead of driving to the gym, you stop by the store to pick up a six-pack of beer you’ve seen Pike drink at happy hours, and go to his place. He’s hosted team hangouts there, always making sure to include you. The case you’re on now occasionally results in late nights with a few of the team ordering massive amounts of takeout and working late into the night, camped out in various locations around his living room. You’re always the first to nab the cozy throw blanket off the back of the couch and hunker down into the plush cushions.

Tonight is different. You’ve only been alone with Pike a few times, never for long, and never at his place. Those few times you have been alone were always work related or out at a social function for as long as it took for someone to get back with the next round. By the time you begin to second guess your decision to go over, you’re already in his neighborhood and turning down his street. 

You think to yourself that it’s still not too late to turn back. Then Pike’s face from that afternoon comes to mind – those big, brown eyes of his that are usually so full of passion and intelligence had dulled the last few weeks. With your mind made up, you park in front of his townhouse and grab the six-pack from your passenger seat. 

A few steps from the front door, you pause when it occurs to you that the windows are darkened. His car is there, but the only light you can see is coming from the fan-shaped window at the top of his door. He might be out, or sleeping – you check your watch – at seven o’clock on a Friday night. Or, he might have somebody over, and having a young-ish female agent from work showing up would just be an awkward mood killer. 

You hesitate, then take a step forward, thinking you’ll leave the beer for him and send a text. Shaking your head, you realize that’d just be creepy, and turn around to go back to your car. Just then, you hear his front door open and whirl around to see Pike standing there in a white undershirt and joggers. 

“Hey –”

“Hey!” You cut him off, a little too loudly and flinch. “Hey, sorry, um…” You’re not quite sure what to say at this point, it all sounds too dumb. He doesn’t look angry, just a bit bemused by your presence. Thankfully, Marcus ends the awkward silence first.

“Do you want to come in?” Stepping back, Marcus opens the door a bit wider and you can see that he’s barefoot. You’re not sure why you find that endearing.

“Yeah, thanks.” You step inside, noticing that most of the interior lights are off except for a couple at the back of the house. There’s faint noise coming from the TV in the living room. Not sure what else to do, you stand there and awkwardly hold up the six-pack. 

“I brought beer.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you.” Marcus politely takes the beer and shuts the door. As he walks back to the kitchen, he asks over his shoulder, “Did I miss a group text about a hangout?” 

“No, I just…” Sighing, you hover at the threshold of his kitchen, where he’s opening two of the beer bottles. You decide to lean into the awkwardness and just go for it. “Are you okay?”

“What? Yeah, of course I’m okay. Why do you ask?” Marcus answers far too quickly and casually, so you push.

“You’ve seemed…off lately.” Accepting a beer, you take a swig to steady your nerves. The words all come out in a rush. “Ever since you went to give that deposition. You just haven’t seemed yourself.” 

Marcus watches you silently. You shrug, and admit, “I guess I was kind of worried.” 

You pause, your stomach in knots, sure now that you’ve just been imagining things, and that you’ve overstepped the limits of your professional relationship. Marcus takes a deep breath and places both hands on the island counter, leaning with his arms straight. He fixes you with an unreadable expression.

“Did the others put you up to this?”

“No!” You assure him, stepping forward and putting your beer bottle on the counter. “Nobody put me up to this. Nobody even knows I’m here.” 

Wanting him to believe you, you place a hand on his upper arm, feeling the well developed muscles flex under your touch. 

“Really, Marcus. You can talk to me. What’s going on?” 

Marcus sniffs, then takes a long pull from his beer. 

“Have you ever seen Casablanca?”

~*~*~*~

An hour later, Casablanca plays quietly in the background, and the two of you are settled back on the couch, washing down pizza with more beer.

Turns out Marcus hadn’t expected to see you standing there when he opened his front door. He’d gotten an alert from his doorbell camera and figured it was the pizza delivery guy. You laugh together when he shows you the video captured of your exchange.

“So, wait – you were just sitting here in the dark, watching a classic romance, in your pajamas? Where’s the pint of Ben and Jerry’s?” You’re both laughing at your lighthearted ribbing. You swear Marcus blushes a bit, but the beard and dim lighting makes it hard to tell.

“In the freezer…” You laugh even harder at this revelation. “What? I was saving it for after the pizza!” 

“You’ve been holding out on me, Pike?” You give him a playful push with your foot. “Go get it!” 

Marcus’ smile looks almost back to normal as he gets up and pads off to the kitchen, returning with a pint of Chunky Monkey and two spoons. 

“So,” you start, swallowing your first bite. “Who is she? Or he – I don’t want to assume, of course.”

“Who says there’s anyone at all?” Marcus demures, taking a large spoonful for himself. You sit facing each other on the couch, hunched over the shared ice cream.

“Seriously? The movie, the comfort food, the sweats – it’s Breakup Recovery 101, and you could teach the course.” He chuckles as you knock his spoon away with your own to go after a large piece of walnut.

“I know it’s cliche, but...”

“But it helps,” you finish for him, and he nods. Selflessly, you let him take the chunk of chocolate you were gunning for. The ice cream is starting to make you feel cold and you look around the room.

“What?” Marcus asks, turning his spoon over to lick it clean. 

“Where’s the blanket that’s normally here?” You pat its usual spot on the back of the couch. 

“Oh, hang on, I’ll get it.” While you dig around for another piece of chocolate, he disappears upstairs. A minute later he’s back with the cozy throw. “Sorry, I usually put it out if I know you’re coming over.”

Marcus spreads the blanket over both your laps while you hold the ice cream out of the way. 

“You don’t normally keep it out here?” Marcus shakes his head.

“Nah, I don’t usually need a blanket. But you got cold the first time you came over – for the Superbowl party, I think? I went out and got one so you’d be more comfortable the next time.”

You stare at Marcus, blinking, as he picks through for the good bits. This man, who barely knew you the first time you came over, went out and bought a blanket to keep at his house on the off chance you got cold here again. You don’t even remember saying you were cold at the party, you’d just put on your jacket until the house warmed up a bit. You’re not sure what to make of the feelings stirring inside your chest. 

“Thanks, Marcus. That was really thoughtful.” He shrugs in reply. 

“I like my friends to be comfortable.” And that’s when you remember Marcus sees you as a friend, and you see him as one too. You swallow around a lump and clear your throat. 

“I didn’t even know you’d been seeing anyone. Will you tell me what happened?”

After a deep breath, Marcus tells you everything – about his last assignment, the woman he’d briefly been engaged to when he came to D.C., and the man she stayed behind for. He tells you about seeing both of them when he went to give the deposition. And in return, you tell him what a badass he was for laying it all out for that asshole.

“Well, I don’t know about ‘badass.’ This is so embarrassing, but I actually said I’d grown the beard out for,” he raises his fingers in air quotes, “‘an undercover thing.’”

You try not to laugh, but fail miserably. “Aw, that’s not so bad.” Marcus rolls his eyes. 

“No, really! Once after a bad breakup I dyed my hair blue and sent my ex a glitter bomb.” Marcus laughs and tugs playfully at a lock of your hair.

“I bet you looked cute as hell with blue hair.” 

“Trust me, I didn’t look nearly as cute with blue hair as you do with a beard.” You reach up and stroke the side of his scruff. The shared laughter fades, and you’re left just looking at each other, taking one another in. 

The words bubble up in your chest and flow out, “She was so stupid, Marcus. I bet she doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

Marcus smiles ruefully and ducks his head, and you leave your spoon in the carton so you can take his face in both of your hands. His cheeks are soft and warm under your touch.

“I’m serious. You’re an amazing agent, an incredible friend, and an even better human being. I mean it when I say it’s her loss.” 

Marcus’ eyes go soft and he swallows. You realize you’re still holding his face and begin to retreat, but he holds one of your hands in place, his fingers cold from the forgotten ice cream in his lap. Closing his eyes, he takes a breath and turns his face to kiss your palm.

“Thank you,” he whispers. 

Your chest is tight from holding back the urge to do – what, you’re not exactly sure. Anything, whatever it takes to bring that smile back to his face and erase the sadness from his eyes. Leaning in, you brush a gentle kiss across his cheek, then another. 

And then his lips are on yours, warm and soft, slightly sticky from the ice cream. Marcus is moving, setting the half-melted ice cream on the coffee table and letting your spoons clatter, his lips never leaving yours. 

Your arms wrap around his neck to pull him closer and you can smell the sweetness of the dessert on his beard. When he deepens the kiss, you sigh into his mouth, enjoying how his tongue tastes and feels against yours.

The scratch of the stubble doesn’t hurt, but the hairs on his upper lip tickle at your nose when you suck gently on his bottom lip. He moans, which seems to surprise him, and he pulls away, breathless. 

You try to follow but he holds your upper arms while saying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have – so many reasons…”

You can see he’s overthinking everything, so you put it plainly. 

“I want this, and I want you. Is that how you feel too?” 

Marcus says emphatically, “God, yes. But–”

“Let me make you feel good, Marcus.” You press your forehead to his and stroke his cheek. Placing light kisses to the corner of his mouth, then the apple of his cheek, the scruff on his jaw, you add a soft, “Please.” 

Marcus inhales sharply through his nose, and his hands flex, tightening their grip on your arms for a second. You lay a kiss at the corner of his eye, the place that crinkles so sweetly when he smiles. Turning his face into yours, he nudges your cheek with the gentle slope of his nose. His arms encircle you, one hand coming up to cup the back of your neck. 

“Let me help you forget.” 

Smoothing your hands over his chest, you try to slow your breathing. Being in Marcus’ arms, practically in his lap, is making you feel desperate. You’d do anything to make him feel better, anything to make him feel cherished. 

“Just for tonight?” A hint of pleading enters your voice. Slowly, you pull your feet under you, kneeling on the couch. Marcus swallows thickly, and when he finally speaks, his words come out hoarse. 

“Say it again.”

Not quite sure what he means, you pause for a moment, pulling back to bring him into focus. His pupils are blown, his soft lips parted. Marcus looks as wrecked as you feel. 

“Say ‘please’ again.” The words send tingles straight between your legs. 

“Please, Marcus.” 

It comes out in a whisper, immediately followed by his mouth on yours. His broad chest feels hot under your hands where you grasp the soft cotton of his t-shirt. 

He slips his large hands under the hem of your sweatshirt, then molds them to your ass. Putting your arms around the back of his neck, he lifts and helps you clamber over until you're straddling his lap.

“I want to make you feel good too,” he pants between your lips. 

Marcus leaves a scorching trail of kisses and licks down your neck until you gasp and grab a fistful of his soft hair to hold him to the spot that makes you dizzy. Feeling the evidence of his growing arousal, you roll your hips to press against him, sighing from the relief the friction gives you. Marcus lets out a soft grunt and pulls you into him again, this time lifting his hips up to meet yours. 

Unzipping the loose hoodie you’d intended for the gym, Marcus helps you free your arms from the fitted cuffs and tosses it somewhere on the floor behind you. You’re only wearing a lightweight tank top over your sports bra, and, in the back of your mind, you’re happy you happen to be wearing the nice one that actually makes your tits look good. 

Deciding to show them off, you strip the tank top over your head and toss it to the side of the couch you’d been sitting on. Marcus lets out a breath and pauses to admire your body, running his hands up and down your exposed midriff. As his hands caress your breasts, your nipples harden against the soft fabric of your bra, and he swipes a thumb over one causing you to shiver. 

Reaching down, you tug the hem of Marcus’ white undershirt up and he leans forward, allowing you to pull it all the way off. You knew his arms were nice, but his chest and shoulders would have made your knees weak if you were standing. His golden skin is dappled with a light sprinkling of freckles down the column of his neck. You lean over to kiss at the base of his throat, feeling it vibrate when he hums, then lick and suck your way across his neck and shoulder. 

“Your mouth feels good,” Marcus intones huskily.

Smiling, you nip gently at his earlobe before whispering, “It’ll feel even better on your cock.”

“Fuck,” he groans. “You want to suck my cock?”

In answer, you reach between your bodies and palm his dick through his soft jogging pants, then give it a small stroke. He grunts, then turns his head, capturing your lips in another heated kiss.

When you moan, he deepens the kiss and drags his hot tongue against yours. He tastes so good, you’re reluctant to stop, but the size and heft of him through his pants is too tempting to resist. Sliding a finger into his waistband, you give it a playful tug and feel him smile against your mouth. You slip your hand inside and wrap your fingers around his sizable cock. 

“Oh my god,” you murmur, and he huffs a small laugh that gets drawn out into a moan when you grasp him firmly in your fist. 

“I'm flattered,” he says lightly, but as you give him a tentative stroke his brow creases and he lets out a soft gasp.

“Trust me, it's not just flattery.” His breath hitches when you stroke him again and he kisses your bare shoulder. You reach down with your other hand and pull his cock free of his pants to give you more freedom of movement. 

Glancing down between your bodies, you're disappointed that you can't make out much in the darkness of the living room. Setting a slow, easy pace, Marcus groans and rests his forehead on your shoulder, grabbing a fistful of each ass cheek in his hands. 

“Does that feel good?” Your voice comes out low and intimate, almost a whisper.

Nodding, he makes small movements with his hips to thrust up into your hand. 

“Do you want more? Do you want my mouth?” 

He lets out a guttural moan and nods more empathically, pulling back to kiss you again. Breaking the kiss gently, you slide down between his splayed thighs and kneel before him, the plush rug comfortable under your knees. In this new position, you're more acutely aware of how wet you've been getting. 

You can see the top half of his cock trapped between his stomach and waistband, and eagerly reach for him.

“Take this off first,” he instructs softly, toying with the strap of your sports bra with a quirk to his lips. 

Smiling, you obey and pull off the tight garment, watching his face to see his reaction. In the dimness of the living room, the light cast from the TV flickers silently across his face, highlighting the cut of his jaw and cheekbones. 

“Beautiful,” he whispers to himself, and cups your face in his hand. He drags the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip, unconsciously flicking his tongue out to wet his own. You decide you like seeing him from this angle, awaiting his next word or move, basking in his praise.

You grasp at the elastic waistband and Marcus lifts his hips. As his cock is freed, he watches you intensely under heavy lids. Pulling his jogging pants all the way down to his ankles, you let him adjust and get comfortable while you stroke his thighs. 

Your mouth waters, impatient to feel the swollen head of his cock slipping past your lips. Grasping the solid weight of him in your fist, you pull up from the base, delighted to see a drop of precum pearl at the tip. Before it can spill over, you lean in and lick the salty substance away. 

“Fuck,” Marcus’ hips spasm involuntarily, the head of his cock bumping into your mouth. “Shit, sorry.” 

Ignoring his apology, you engulf him in your mouth and swirl your tongue around the ridge, then flick it at the sensitive spot just underneath. Keeping one hand at the base, you gather spit in your mouth and let it drip over the cut head, stroking him a few times to make it nice and slick. 

“Jesus,” he whispers, watching you create a seal between your mouth and hand, stroking the length that won’t fit in your mouth. His moans and sighs fill your ears, hands roaming your shoulders and neck, cradling your head, pulling back your hair. He’s holding back, though. Thighs and abs rigid, arms tense, he isn’t giving himself over to the pleasure.

“I want you to use my mouth,” you tell him, then take him back in your mouth. You take one of his hands and place it at the back of your head, giving yourself a push to indicate that he can pull you down if he wants. Marcus groans and gives an experimental push, but stays tense.

Pulling off him again, you stroke the head to keep him stimulated. “Please, Marcus – fuck my mouth.” 

“Oh, fuck…” Marcus slowly begins to relax, allowing his hips to buck up and meet your mouth as he gently pulls your face down. “Your mouth, it feels so good, you’re so good.” 

He drops his head to rest on the back of the couch. His large hands palm each side of your face and you take him in, all the way to the back of your throat, letting him feel the vibrations of your moans. 

“Ah, hnh, fuck…” Every bob of your head and thrust of his hips elicits a grunt or noise in the back of his throat. You’re sure you must be soaking wet now, and you’re tempted to touch yourself while you suck him off. 

“Just like that…fuck – so fucking good, baby. Take my cock – ah, yeah…” 

The sounds he's making have you moaning and whimpering around his cock, eyes closed, drool coating your mouth and chin. 

“I’m not gonna last if you keep that up– ugh, god.” 

Clenching your thighs, your hips move involuntarily, trying to get some stimulation to your throbbing clit. You need some relief, and press the heel of your palm to your mound, grinding into it in time with every thrust of Marcus’ cock into your mouth.

“Fuck, are you touching yourself while you suck me off? Does it turn you on that much, taking me deep, feeling me fuck your mouth?” 

You answer an mhmm around his cock and look up at him. From the pale light of the TV screen you can see the sheen of perspiration on his chest and forehead, his mouth open, that plump bottom lip quivering slightly. 

He meets your eye as he fucks into your mouth. “Shit, that’s so good, baby, don’t stop – your fucking mouth – ah, god, yeah, keep playing with yourself, good girl.”

Good girl. 

Your clit throbs and you let out an involuntary moan, your eyes fluttering shut. Nobody has ever called you a ‘good girl’ before, but Marcus’ ceaseless praise activates a part of your brain you didn't know existed. 

You need to make Marcus feel good, and you feel driven to perform well enough to earn that ‘good girl’ from him again. You want to taste and swallow his cum as your reward. 

Eyes closed again, you press down and relax your jaw, suppressing your gag reflex around the softer glans as you grip the rock hard base of his cock. 

“Fuck, I can feel your throat, baby. You still touching yourself?”

You manage to whimper another mhm and nod slightly before he's hitting the back of your throat again. Your pussy is on fire, already clenching around nothing, desperate to take Marcus’ cock.

“Unh, yeah, don’t stop, I love how turned on you are by this. I can’t wait to taste you too – do you want that? You want my mouth too?” 

Moaning your assent, you caress a hand over whatever planes of his body you can reach without breaking rhythm, feeling the muscles in his abs and thighs quiver as he thrusts steadily. 

“Oohh fuck, yeah – you're taking me so deep, that’s it, that’s … that’s a good girl.”

There it is again, those two words: good girl. A keening sound comes from your throat in response. Head swimming, you'd swear you're drunk off his cock and his words. 

Marcus’ voice is getting more strained, wavering from guttural to breathy. His cock swells in your mouth and your eyes water slightly.

“Fuck, baby, you’re getting me so close. Do you want my cum?” 

Whimpering, you use both hands to grasp onto his hips, keeping up the pace with your mouth as his hips stutter. 

"I’m so close, where do you want it?” His words are rushed and tense, but you never break your stride, moaning around his cock and making your answer obvious. 

“Shit. Here it comes – I’m cu–” Marcus doesn’t get a chance to finish his warning before his cock is pulsing and shooting his cum onto the back of your tongue. Letting out a hoarse cry, he grips reflexively to your face and hair as his orgasm rips through him.

“Ah, ahh, yes, take my cum – so good, so fucking good for me…” 

As the last shudders ripple through his muscles, he sighs and strokes your face tenderly while you happily milk the last drops of his cum into your mouth. You can’t help feeling a sense of accomplishment and pride in making Marcus feel so good. 

Before either of you can catch your breath, Marcus leans over and captures your mouth in a deep kiss. You both moan as his tongue explores your mouth, tasting himself in every corner.  

“That was incredible,” he sighs between kisses. “You’re incredible.” 

Marcus kisses up your jaw to your ear and whispers, “I want to make you feel just as good…” He drags the tip of his tongue from earlobe to pulsepoint, then makes you lose nearly all your senses as he sucks and nibbles on the sensitive spot.

Still on your knees, Marcus’ assault on your neck has you arched back until you feel the press of the coffee table behind you. It’s not exactly uncomfortable, but you are positioned awkwardly enough that you cling to Marcus for stability, the muscles in his back broad and firm under your hands. 

“Bedroom.” It’s the only word you manage to gasp out. 

“Upstairs.” His reply would sound casual if not for the heat in his voice. 

“Show me.” 

Marcus stands, helping you regain your balance on your feet. He kisses your lips again, then pulls back with a sly grin on his face. 

“Say, ‘please.’”

Chapter 10 - Coming Soon!

Additional Author’s Note: Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for all the lovely comments and reblogs! I can’t tell you how much they mean to me. As always, I would love-love-love to know what you think. I really want to become a better writer, so any and all feedback is welcome! Thank you for reading! 💜

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