#tried to be there as late as possible when parents should more likely be home with their 2 year olds

[kimtaegis]

research could be so nice if it weren’t for the participants

[alrtyhoney]

TAKING WHAT’S NOT YOURS 

(I watch her go with a surge of that well known sadness and I have to sit down for a while– the feeling that I'm losing her forever.)

The rundown: That cake scene with Miles at his father’s bodega party but it’s with Miguel and his universe’s daughter. He’s late and it’s your quinceañera. Content: Father!Miguel O'hara x Daughter!Reader / Angst! (wc: 3844)

There was something oddly peculiar about your father. People would assume that he would be the archetypal absent one who chose to abandon his child; the dead-beat-dad who ultimately never cared for them. You’d argue it wasn’t true– you were fed, you had the weight of what a fifteen year old should have, and education was proper. 

You love your papa with all of your heart, but there was no denying the fact that he would never be around often enough. You understood this when you were eight years old, and mornings would bring only a cold breakfast accompanied by a hastily scribbled note from him. He’d leave early– far too early. You tried staying up in an attempt to tell when he gets up and leaves the house, but you swear you don’t hear the door open every time. 

Then came twelve and the missed events. Miguel seemed to be missing in action when it came to certain school activities, not showing up for things that he had previously made commitments for. It became more and more frequent as you grew older– you wouldn’t hear from him for days.

He was a man dedicated to his profession, and although you felt pride in what he had achieved, there was this empty space in your heart that hadn’t been filled ever since you were eight. It was said that a child needed the presence of their parents to feel security– to feel important. You never truly understood it, not until you had to endure many nights at dinner alone and the numerous times you spent walking home with nothing but your own thoughts for company.

You had always pondered over the question of whether it was a common phenomenon that fathers seemed to love their daughters less once they had reached teenagehood– or if it was possible for fathers to unlearn being fathers. 

“Is your papa coming, bebita?” 

The faint notes of classical music filled the air as you sat on the wooden floor, stretching your sore limbs. You observed the ladies who were much older than yourself starting their exercise routines, having come in early before the group class began. You waited for Miguel to pick you up. 

– But that had been two hours ago. Your teacher finally worked up the courage to approach you, hesitantly looking for the right words to say. She wasn’t exactly pleased to be the one to let you down, but she’d seen you walk out the studio’s door alone time and time again after you told her that your father would bring you home himself.

“He said he’d come pick me up today.” You spoke, nervously twisting the ends of your skirt. Your teacher had most likely heard these words countless times before from you, but the faint ray of hope in your voice remained firm. “He promised.” You added quietly, praying that maybe it would be different this time. 

“Ay, bebita– you know how this ends. You tell me those exact words and you walk out here on your own anyway.” She slightly shook her head, her face softening with a sympathetic smile as she knelt closer to you. “Tell you what, how about I offer to give you a ride home today? I have plenty of snacks in my car that you can enjoy. You can take as many of them as you'd like.”

You took some time to consider it, letting her gently weave her fingers through the strands of curls that couldn't quite fit into a bun. Your lips pursued as you sighed softly, “What if he comes and I’m not here anymore?” You’d hate to miss the opportunity.

Of course you still had faith that he would come, having endured all the other times he had let you down. You were never one to quickly give up on people and your father was the only one you trusted the most— you’d hate to admit that his inconsistency was starting to hurt; digging a deeper wound to the already bleeding cut. 

“He’s not coming and I know you know that too.” 

She stands up, grunting slightly as she hefts herself up. You knew there was no more room for negotiation anymore when she urged you to come along. She carefully takes your backpack from off your back and drapes it over her own shoulders, “Come on sweetheart, let's get you home.” 

The silence in the car was palpable, with no one feeling the need to prod conversation. You hadn't stopped fidgeting with the hem of your bag since you got in, and you could feel your teacher's worried glances burning into you. Your mind was a jumble of emotions that kept bubbling away as they all competed for your attention. What could be his reason this time/?

She switched on the radio in an effort to lighten the tense mood, but when a melancholic tune filled played instead, you couldn’t help but let out a deep sigh.

“Is it possible for fathers to unlove their daughters?” 

It was a question that took her completely by surprise, so much so that another uncomfortable beat of silence passed before she could respond. The stillness made you regret asking in the first place. Your legs shifted nervously, an unconscious habit which you had never noticed before.

“Of course not,” She muttered, almost inaudibly. “Fathers tend to forget is all.”

But you knew that wasn’t the case. 

While Miguel was never home, something else resided on the corners of your house– someone you have never met at all. She smiled back at you from the frame sitting atop your dad's nightstand, wearing the similar blue soccer jersey your school had. She was the picture on his wallet and the little widget on his phone. It was beyond you– the few blue ribbons hidden on the box beneath his bed; the medals, the drawings you know you’ve never drawn or given him. For all you know, the kid didn’t even go to your school. 

It wasn’t anything sinister, but in a way she felt like a ghost. A child your father mourned for all his life and you had no idea why. 

This was a physical pain in your chest; one that was peeling away the very layers of your heart until it was nothing but ugly– just how could Miguel love a child more than his own? It was ridiculous to feel like you were in competition with someone you barely knew, yet somehow, you felt like you were losing. It felt even more absurd when you considered the possibility that maybe you weren't really his child at all.

“I joined our school’s soccer team today, papa.” 

It wasn’t an ordinary occurrence for Miguel to be at the dining table for lunch. But on this Saturday noon, he was there. Sitting across from you, quietly eating his food. Finally, he paused and shifted his gaze towards you, seeming to linger on you longer than normal before looking away, cracking a grin.

“Soccer? You hate sports, mija.” He says, a bit of laughter in his voice. "What made you decide to try out? I don't recall you being the least bit interested before."

Something in his eyes becomes brighter, a sense of familiarity as he eagerly awaits your response– and the thing is, you couldn’t tell him why. Not without addressing the elephant in the room. Maybe you’d hang my medals too? Maybe you’d frame a photo of me? You know well your question reminds him of someone else. 

“No reason.” 

It was no surprise that you were terrible at it. After barely two seasons, you'd already given up. However it was surprising to see Miguel in the stands during the times that you had a game, but there wasn’t much to watch anyway— not when you’d been relegated to the bench for most of the time. All you felt was shame. 

Oddly enough, he didn't question it. He remained silent during the rides back home, his gaze distant and never once looked at you. Had you embarrassed him to an extent where he couldn’t even acknowledge you? Or have you given him the impression that you were just no better than the little girl in his pictures?

You dared not to talk about it too.

Music was your passion; the pulse, the poise and elegance of it all resonating with you deeply. Ballet was something that spoke to you particularly in ways no other art form could. You found a special joy out on stage, a feeling that grew deeper and greater each time you danced.

But like every flame that you desperately try to keep alive, Miguel had a way of snuffing it out. 

You remember it all so vividly, even though you'd much rather the memory be nothing more than a faint blur. Your very first recital and yet he wasn't anywhere to be found amongst the audience.

Your focus was a tunnel-vision, only set to finding even a glimpse of him— you had been so determined to find him that you forgot about all of your own movements. Soon, the few wrong turns had turned to missed cues; as soon as the music stopped, you made a run for it.

Your teacher had done her best to console you that day, attempting to coax a smile from you in front of the vanity mirror with its bright lights. She had wrapped her arms around you, doing anything she could to draw even the faintest curve of your lips. But you stayed slumped on your seat, feeling the weight of the unshed tears on your eyes. 

The door swung open, finally revealing Miguel; he was out of breath and sweat glistened on his forehead. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top and his tie was undone, a clear sign that he had run all the way here. He paused for a moment to catch his breath before walking in frantically, eyes looking for you. 

His eyes softened at the sight of you in your pretty pink tutu– then the tenderness was replaced with a feeling akin to plummeting one hundred stories down. How could he miss this? How could he let his sweet girl wait? He rushed to your side, sinking down into a kneeling position. He looked upon you with lines creasing his forehead and you already knew what was to come out of his lips.

“I’m sorry muneca, I came as fast as I could.” 

The other parents of your classmates started to barge inside the very room, their children giddy with joy and excitement, running to them with beaming smiles. You could hear their loud congratulations– voices singing sweet praises and telling how they looked outstanding on stage. The noise sounded like static in your ears, like their words were unfamiliar to you. They received bouquets of flowers, sweets– gifts for a job well done. Miguel came late and only with apologies. 

“You want pretty flowers too, mijita? We can stop by the flower shop a few blocks away from here, you can pick any bouquet you want.” His lips curved into a gentle smile, desperate to make his daughter feel better– the same daughter who wouldn't even meet his gaze. “Papa had to deal with something. I’ll be sure to go to your next recital– pinky promise.” 

“But I worked really hard for this.”

You wanted so desperately to blame him; to yell at him for every mistake that you've made on the stage. You felt ashamed, humiliated, and helpless all at once- and still, you couldn’t have the heart to be mad at him.

He looked at you apologetically, "Baby, I'm sorry I couldn't make it earlier. How about we talk about the flowers you want to buy instead? There are lots of restaurants nearby as well— you can pick whatever pleases you, just name it." He paused for a moment before continuing, gently nudging your shoulder. “I know how much this meant to you.”

If he did, why couldn’t he have come at all?

You let out a deep sigh, feeling completely ridiculous in your tutu. All of the sudden, the leotard appeared to be two sizes too small and utterly irritating; your tights seemed unbearably itchy. You looked down helplessly, wanting nothing more than to leave this situation behind. “I just want to go home. Can we just leave? Please?” You pleaded softly. 

He bit the inside of his cheek, a gesture that conveyed own sinking heart in a way words could not. His shoulders sagged ever so slightly, breath hitching as he gave in to your request instead. 

“Of course.” 

After that very moment, you'd vowed to yourself never to wait in anticipation of something that may or may not come. You wouldn’t put your faith in any more of your father's promises spoken under the dead of night. It took a toll on you– your naivety had taught you better than before.

But when your fifteenth birthday drew near, you never expected he would go so far.

The locks clicked and whirred as Miguel fumbled with the keys to the front door. You could hear your Father's voice, clearly agitated as he jostled the keys back and forth in an attempt to fit them into the lock. Finally, he steps inside, eyes immediately darting to you.

“You’re not wearing your birthday dress, sweetie. Is something wrong?” He’s wearing a smile, struggling to keep the two boxes of cake upright as he locks the door from behind. The banner is lopsided and the balloons scattered all around seem small– like they’ve been there for days and were starting to deflate themselves. He kisses the top of your head once he gets close, getting a better view of what you were working on on the counter. Homework. “Did you have your friends over today? How was it? Wanna hear all about it.”

And he must have forgotten. You decided to pretend not to hear his question, continuing to jot down notes, only humming at his presence. He settles the boxes down, sitting on the stool beside you. 

“I know papa’s late, but you can still go and wear your dress. I want to take pictures– should we order pizza? Do you want something else?” He’s rambling, hurriedly searching for his tone to dial down a few numbers. Miguel turns frantic, looking at the closed signs under every nice restaurant. “Pizza should be fine, mijita– you’ve eaten dinner, right?” 

“Not hungry.” 

Miguel chuckled, dialing anyway. “Did school suck today, sweetie?” He jokes, trying to lighten the mood. “You know what can cheer you up? Cake. You love cake.”

“I don’t like cake anymore.” You say, your voice barely above a whisper. You can feel frustration boiling over inside– and you fear it wasn’t the kind you’ve grown accustomed to suppressing. He was oblivious and it was killing you, hurting you in so many ways possible. “I’m not hungry.” You repeat again.

“Don’t be like that, __. Besides, it’s still tradition.” He stands up to check the drawers, only finding worn out candles from past birthdays. He takes a lighter. “Know what’s better than a cake? Two cakes! You’ll change your mind, go and open the boxes mija,”

Miguel excitedly pressed his hands on your shoulders, pushing you gently forward to open the two boxes of cake. The look in his eyes was that of pure anticipation as he waited eagerly for you to do so. It almost hurt you to tell him the news— that you wanted more than to just take the blame itself. It was conflicting. 

You finally got up from the bar stool, settling on your feet in front of the counter. Taking a deep breath, you carefully opened the lid of the boxes. What greeted you had made you visibly recoil– the small flicker of hope that settled in your chest gone as quickly as it came. The cakes were crumbled and the frosting was all over the box, like it had been trampled and tossed around.

Was this all a joke? Were you a joke to him? Your shoulders trembled as you couldn't bring yourself to look away from it; the letter was still visible but amongst the cake crumbs lay written a name– Gabriella. Not happy birthday to you, but Gabi. 

You didn’t know what hurt most. Your lips quivered and all you could mutter was, “Gabi?”

His eyes widened in surprise as he quickly moved to your side to take a look at the cake himself. He swiftly closed the lids, shaking his head. “Must’ve been a mistake back at the bakery. I can–” 

And you could barely catch your breath, not when the hurt piled over one another. 

“Are the medals from her? The one’s from your bed? The trophies?” 

He furrowed his eyebrows, clearly irritated. “What did I tell you about snooping around my things, __?”

“Is this the girl–” A ragged inhale cuts your thoughts, “on your nightstand and wallet?” You didn’t even realize you had started to cry, but when another breath had caught itself in your throat, you were inconsolable– finally letting the dam break all at once.

Miguel did nothing to console you– he didn’t know how to. He knew he had messed up royally and all he could do was helplessly watch you break down. Who knows how long you’ve kept this? 

“__, come on. It’s just a simple mistake, it’s still cake–”

“And it was my birthday!” 

“Baby, what’s the big deal?” He was shocked and understandably so. His sweet, babygirl, who was usually so quiet and docile, was talking back angrily to him– but Miguel knew better than to point fingers. This was his fault– your unbecoming was his own doing.

“You just had to be late– on my birthday!” 

“I have work, baby, you know this.” 

“That still doesn’t explain anything!” You cried out, desperation flooding your voice. “Why are you never home? Where do you go? Who is Gabriella– why do you love her more than me?” You could feel your breath catch in your throat as your voice rose and trembled with every question. Your breathing grew unsteady and your throat began to close up, not allowing anymore words to come out as much as you wanted to scream. You feared there’d be no more room for air.

And there was something about Gabriella that everytime she was brought up, Miguel would be defensive. Perhaps it was the plenty of times Lyla would reprimand him when she catches him watching the few videos of them or when Jess would pity his state. “Don’t be ridiculous, __. I made a mistake– that’s it. We don’t have to fight.” He says, grabbing a spatula. “If it bothers you so much, here,”

Miguel frustratedly spreads the lettering with the spatula, leaving smudges of red on top of perfectly white frosting, resulting in a more muddled mess. He's making a complete mess of it and you can't bear to watch any longer. Your still figure finally reaches out to grab his wrist, “Stop— stop that! What are you doing?!”  

It was no use. The cake was nothing but totally ruined now. You didn’t even have the chance to read the message. He forcefully digs the candles on both, sliding it in front of you. Your eyes stayed on the cake– you didn’t have the heart to look at him. Anger boiled up within you and without a moment's hesitation, the words leaped from your mouth, "You're not listening to me! This is not what I'm so upset about—!"

But he responds in the same loudness as yours, slamming his hands down on the cold tiles of your countertop. “Okay, champ, you got it– go for it! Say what you have to say,” A sarcastic chuckle left his lips, adding insult to the already deep wound. “What do you have to tell me so bad?”

And you didn’t think it was possible for silence to be more deafening, but as you stared each other down, all you could think of was how maybe Miguel was worse than the archetypal absent one who chose to abandon his child or the dead-beat-dad who ultimately never cared for them. 

You were right. Fathers were capable of unloving their daughters and the way his dark eyes burned into yours was all the answer you needed. This wasn’t your papa– did you ever know him?

“My birthday was two days ago.” 

He furrowed his eyebrows, doubt creasing his forehead as he looked back to the calendar hung on the fridge. His gaze resting on your birthday date, the red circle mocking him in vivid reminder— two days ago. Your birthday was two days ago. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, and he felt nothing but guilt tying his stomach in knots. 

“Mijita–” He’s quick to console you, the anger in his words disappearing immediately and turning into an apologetic one– but every time he’d try to move forward, you’d only step back. Miguel couldn’t even bear to think how you’ve celebrated on your own. How you waited for him all night in your birthday dress. He subtly shook his head, trying his best not to clog his mind yet. 

He needed to make it up to you. He couldn’t lose you too.

“My birthday– why did you have to take it?” You rubbed your eyes harshly, but the more you wiped the tears away, the more they seemed to fall. “It’s mine and I still had to wait for you to be able to sing the song. It’s my day and all I could think of was what time you might come home tonight.”

You wanted nothing more than for him to run to you with open arms, to let you cry on his shoulders– but as his silence stretched on, you mistook it as nothing but ruthless. He simply didn’t care. Miguel was too much of a wall for that. 

The look you gave him was nothing but hate– a look no parent wants to ever come across and it almost makes him stagger back. It was like what he had done was the most disgusting– most inconsolable act ever beyond repair and all he could do was watch; watch as another daughter of his slip through his fingers. He’s holding you like water and he doesn’t know how to keep you in.

You scoffed, averting your gaze. “You don’t want to talk about it? Fine by me.” You turned your back, letting out another shaky exhale. You couldn’t look at him the same– not after this.

“You make it really, really, hard to feel like a daughter.” 

And with that, you run to your room, leaving Miguel to stay rooted to where he stood. He thinks to himself– had he taken that from you too?

[joelsgoldrush]

swore i heard you whisper that you preferred us like that

joel miller x f!reader / 5,8k words

summary: you ask joel –the quiet, distant joel– to teach you how to ride a horse. they say the eyes are the window to the soul, and it must be true, because when he really sees you, it´s like he finally understands what you feel for him.

warnings: smut 18+ let’s pretend joel never left jackson, porn with plot, no use of y/n, age gap (reader is in her late 20s, joel is 56), grinding, oral (f receiving), fingering, masturbation, pet names, unprotected p in v (don't try this at home ok), dirty talk, soft!dom joel (sort of???), a bit of angst/feelings, joel gets all babygirl around reader, ellie appears for like a minute, mediocre attempt at recreating joel's southern accent (sorry in advance)

a/n: hello??? well this is my first fic ever so bear with me, i'm still new to all this. also english isn't my first language so i'm afraid there may be mistakes (mostly when it comes to collocations bc i hate them and they confuse me), buuuut i'm learning obviously and if you find anything that should be corrected PLEASE TELL ME thank you :) i'd appreciate if you told whether you liked this story (idk what to call it tbh) but if you don't it's more than fine! anyways thank you so much for reading if you come across this fic, i hope you like it! i've spent a week writing it bc finals season is killing me <///3

here's my masterlist in case you want to read my other works :)

"Oh, my drunken southern star / How you tried to hide in darkness / Slipped from orbit / Now you’re dangerously close / Come out, come out from all your hiding out / We’ll dig in our heels, salute the battlefields / Where our broken hearts were born."

What is it that he has?

You used to ask yourself that question every night as you went to bed. On some occasions, you couldn't manage to come up with an exact answer. There were too many reasons that disclosed why a man like him lingered on your mind, even in those moments that were supposed to be for you and only you. Sleeping more than three hours a day was definitely something you needed tremendously, but still, the not-so-rational voice inside your head kept on bringing his name up without fail, disturbing your rest.

Joel Miller. Was it possible to feel like this? Like you knew somebody without having exchanged more than five words with them? Sure, there wasn't a single person in Jackson who wasn't aware of his existence. From whispered rumors in the streets to stories that intended to give his reserved personality an explanation, Joel became a real talking-point among those in the commune. Years ago, when the world was still just a floating ball in space, he would’ve frightened you, being the kind of person your parents used to warn you about as you started to grow older.

He walked a certain way, as if he were holding the suffering of many lives in his hands. Always on guard, prepared to fight those who defied him. Hidden knives in his pockets, a gun between his fingers, the trigger too tempting to be pulled at any time given. His hair was a mixture of brown and gray, and you swore that the latter was only becoming more prominent as days went by. 

Suddenly, your pillow felt too uncomfortable, your hands fisting the fabric of your t-shirt while you kicked the blanket resting on top of your bare feet. A sigh escaped your lips, the taste of something you couldn't even distinguish on your tongue, your unsteady breath being the only sound to be heard in that noiseless night. 

You were having a hard time figuring out how you felt about Joel (if there was anything to feel in the first place, since he barely remembered your face and there you were, fantasizing about him instead of sleeping.) Maybe you liked how he presented himself, how bossy and persistent he looked the times you caught him patrolling around the zone. Or perhaps it was his character what charmed you in the first place, and the fact that, deep down, a different side from him remained completely unseen.

He was handsome, too. Tall, broad shoulders, aquiline nose. His arms looked majestic in every single piece of clothing he wore, his tanned skin shiny enough to reflect the very same sun. And his legs… you were sure they were muscular like the rest of his body, because of all the physical effort he did. You had  heard that he worked as a contractor before the pandemic, which made a lot of sense. Once or twice you had paid attention to his hands and–

Then, a familiar feeling sinked in. Warm began spreading through your belly, your thighs involuntary clenching together. “Fuck,” you muttered in a low tone, keeping your hands glued to your sides. Another motive not to think about Joel: he made you feel… things. Certain things that you hadn't felt for anyone in a very long time. You preferred to think that it was probably due to the fact that you were touch-starved, and not because you found yourself deeply attracted to him. Never had you ever been a sexually active person, so why now? Why did the mere image of Joel in your mind turn you on? 

He’s strong. I’m alone. I feel the need to find someone who’s willing to protect me. That’s it. No other reason.

Your internal monologue was lacking in arguments, but it was definitely something you could work with. As if on cue, you found it hard to keep your eyes open, your limbs not feeling as if they were yours anymore. Next thing you knew, you were asleep.

That night, you dreamt with Joel.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

In a small cabin, you taught children how to paint and draw. Maria believed it to be helpful for their psychological development or something like that, and you had agreed to do it. A good way to spend your free time– that’s what it was. Plus, you liked children; some would even choose to include you in their drawings, and that small gesture just warmed your heart.

There, you met Ellie, a teenager whose basic vocabulary consisted mostly of profanities. 

And boy, you loved Ellie.

It was hard not to, actually. She was like a breath of fresh air, with her jokes and instant charm. You two became attached in a short time, and she reminded you of a younger version of you, just a lot braver. Although in this world it brought her benefits, you sometimes wished she wouldn’t have gone through all that shit. Those eyes, which squinted as she laughed if you tickled her sides, were the cemetery of many buried memories. You wondered how she managed to put a smile on her face despite her past and the horrible things she had seen, hoping it was genuine and not a mask.

“Look!” her voice brought you back to reality. Blinking in her direction, you realized the amount of paint you had dropped onto the floor, a red stain already forming on the carpet. “Are you okay? You seem off.”

“I’m fine! Just a bit sleepy today, that's all,” you got closer to where she was lying down, her fingers moving the brush you had gifted her in different directions. Squatting a bit, you placed a strand of hair that didn’t make it into her ponytail behind her ear. “So, what are you painting?”

She smiled warmly, and her teeth catched her lower lip momentarily. “It’s not finished, okay? Don’t freak out. I know you’re a perfectionist.”

“I’m not…” you tried to explain yourself, but ended up choosing to be defeated. “Maybe you’re right. Anyway, may I see it?”

The canvas was in your hands a few moments later. Ellie spoke beside you, her words mixing together in a sign of embarrassment. “It’s for Joel. Figured I could do something nice for him, you know? I don’t– I think I need to start over. His eyes look kind of strange, don’t they? They’re so close he looks like a cyclops.”

“Don’t say that, kiddo. This is… it’s beautiful,” your index finger traced the lines framing his jaw, the shades of his skin perfectly achieved. You held the painting even tighter, afraid of breaking it for a second. He wasn’t frowning like he normally did; Ellie had painted him smiling, and the crinkles by his eyes matched his age. Surely you must have spent more time than necessary staring at it, ‘cause then Ellie continued talking.

“Well, you know what they say: The student has become the teacher.” 

You handed the canvas to her, a smirk taking place on your face. “Yeah, I guess I’ll stop teaching you if that’s the case.”

An hour or so later, someone knocked on the door. As both of your hands were occupied (a more formal way to say that they were dirty with paint), you screamed “Come in!”, and Ellie covered her painting with an old, muddy curtain you used to clean the tables in which the children worked. You were about to ask her why she had reacted in that way, until you turned around and saw him.

Joel was there, as every other Wednesday. In your cabin, standing right in front of you. And you didn’t even look presentable. His hair looked messy, a couple of locks stuck to his forehead with sweat. “Hi,” he said shortly, meeting your gaze and attempting to shake your hand, but you avoided contact.

Showing him your hands, you held your palms in the air as an indication of the still fresh paint on your skin. “Sorry. If I were to accept the gesture, I’d leave you a stain.”

He retrieved a bit, adjusting his glove. “It’s okay. Safety first.”

That was supposed to be a joke, you noticed tardily. The silence in the room persisted until Ellie appeared from behind your back, already putting her coat on.

“You were supposed to pick me up in half an hour, asshole.”

His mouth snapped shut for an instant. “I missed you too. How was the class?” 

Ellie lifted her shoulder in a half shrug, looking in your direction and proceeding to jerk her thumb toward Joel. She didn’t want him to see the painting. “Fine as usual.”

“Can I see what you’re–”

“No fucking way!” she accentuated the word fucking, drawing him closer to the door. 

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not done.”

“But–”

“No more questions, Joel. Let’s go! Say bye!” Ellie handled him like a baby, which made you giggle.

Though you saw Joel raising his eyebrows, so you stopped laughing. 

Soon, they left and the cabin returned to its familiar quietness. A sigh erupted from your chest, and you allowed yourself to fall on top of a chair.

At least you could say you had actually talked to Joel for once.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

It didn’t surprise you that you wanted to see him again.

Not in the “you-turn-me-on” way, but in the “you-seem-interesting-and-i-need-to-find-out-why” one.

He had something. Something so magnetic and indecipherable that kept pulling you towards him. Something that made you look for his presence in every crew, and not sensing what it was only made your wishes to dissect him grow bigger. There was a tiny probability that he was an idiot with a pretty face. Who knew? You definitely didn’t, and that needed to change. You deserved to know if pining over that man was worth it or not.

That chain of thoughts led you to look for him the next day, almost trembling with eagerness as you asked him the most stupid and unexpected question you could have imagined.

“Would you teach me how to ride a horse?”

He looked at you as if you were out of your mind, opening his mouth a few times and then closing it before he actually replied to you. “You’re tellin' me you don’t know how to ride a horse?”

“Tried it a few times, but failed and now I really want to learn to do it properly,” you swore his eyes were trying to decipher if you were saying the truth or not. “Ellie told me that you could probably make some time to teach me?”

“So Ellie's in charge of my schedule, I suppose?” you froze on the spot, and he must have noticed it because then his expression dulled. “Sorry, sweetheart. It was a joke. I've been told I'm not the best humorist.”

Sweetheart. You could’ve died a happy girl.

“Look, why don’t we meet up tomorrow after lunch? I'm sure it won’t take us much time. Not a difficult task, y’know?” he stroked his beard, apparently thinking you understood what he was talking about. 

“Sure. Thank you, Joel. My name’s–“

He didn’t let you finish. “I do know your name,” and before leaving, he repeated: “I’ll be here tomorrow. You know where to find me.”

To say that you slept without interruptions that night was an understatement. Each hour seemed to become longer the more you glimpsed your watch. Your heart drummed inside your chest violently, and you feared that someone else would be able to hear it if they got close enough to you. 

After having lunch in the same spot as every other mundane day, your legs took you to the stable. You took a shaky breath, expecting him to appear out of thin air, but fifteen minutes went by, and there was still no sign of Joel. Pressing your forehead against the wooden door, you wrapped your arms around yourself. “What was I even thinking?” 

“Hey.”

You looked to your side and– there he was, already getting inside the stable and inviting you to follow him. Joel petted one of the horses, clicking his tongue. His fingers caressed the animal’s back, and when he shot a glance at you, he didn’t ignore your disturbed expression.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of horses.”

“I’m not afraid of them,” you laughed awkwardly, eyeing the horse, which stared at you with those big and strange eyes. You raised your hand to mimic Joel, but that just made the animal move further away from you. “I guess it’s mutual. We don’t like each other.”

Joel smirked, guiding you outside. “It’s a damn horse. I don’t think you can tell whether he likes you or not. You gotta change that attitude of yours,” he murmured as he got on top of the horse, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Treat him well and he’ll be nice.”

At first, Joel taught you the basics: how to position yourself for balance, get your legs in the right position, hold the reins properly. A little bit of help coming from him was needed for you to mount the horse. He got down on one knee, patting it as if it were a mounting block. “Come on. Step on it.”

No need to ask me twice, you thought as you did what you were told, and once you were grabbing on those reins for dear life, you observed him with curious eyes. “Now what?”

“Now…” he pressed his hand into one of the horse’s sides, and afterwards, the horse began to fucking trot and you cried out, a high-pitched shriek slipping from your mouth. Joel laughed maliciously, almost hypnotized by the scene. “Now is when you learn how to ride a horse!”

“This isn't funny!” you screamed, the horse still very much entertained with the way you were jerking on top of him. “Stop!”

You couldn't believe how he kept… cracking up. Joel touched his stomach, shaking with laughter. “You’re a natural, can’t you see it? I’m havin' the time of my life here.”

“What I can see is that you’re an idiot! Cut the cackle and help me!”

But he didn’t move a single muscle. Instead, he remained still, that smug look never abandoning his features.

The bastard. “You’re gonna make me beg? In this situation?”

Crossing his arms while teasingly grinning at you, he added: “Wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“Joel Miller, will you help me? Pretty please?” your hair was getting in the way, and you could taste it as you insisted. “Is that enough for you?”

It was, actually. He helped you get down from the horse, his thick fingers digging into the mushy skin of your waist. It shouldn’t have felt that good, but it did. You were supposed to be angry at him for setting you up and still, by touching you for a microsecond, he had transformed you into something malleable.

Sadly, that feeling didn’t last much longer. “Didn’t know you were a man of manners. Should’ve told me beforehand.”

“Didn't know you could scream like that. I hope you didn’t freak anyone out.”

The two of you continued to practice until nightfall. A thing you also learned, apart from horse riding, was that Joel was a determined man. Everytime you tried to quit, he stopped you, making it impossible for you to rest. You stared at him, rubbing the back of your sore neck with a grimace. “I’m tired. Can we go back?”

“One more time.”

“Joel–”

“Trot a couple of meters just one more time, and that’s it for today. Can you do that for me?”

You tried not to pay too much attention to his choice of words, although it was basically non-viable. He looked sinful, and you longed to shut him up with a bruising kiss. Again, a hopeless option. Your hands itched to touch him, to feel his stubble, rough and coarse under your thumbs. How could you stay focused when the man you had been daydreaming with for the last couple of months was bossing you around? 

Despite your inability to clear your head of any of those thoughts, you managed to accomplish what he had asked you to do. “Well done,” he offered you his hand to dismount the horse and you accepted it, sighing as you stretched out your arms. “We should take him back to the stable,” Joel suggested, giving you the impression of being pleased as you told him you were coming with him.

Inside the stable, he relocated the horse into one of the many stalls. Unbelievably, the place didn’t smell like absolute shit, which was what you were expecting from a barn. “Thank you for the lesson,” you told Joel once he was done with the horse.

“Anytime,” he scratched his jaw, the dim light making his dark eyes look, if possible, even darker. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“No. You were right,” your heart thrummed with every word that he blurted. His presence was addictive. You were never the one to have any bad habits, but deep down, you recognized that he easily could develop one. “I thought you were less talkative.”

“So did I,” for an instant, he pressed his lips together, forming a tight line, as if he had said something he shouldn’t have in the first place. “I think I didn’t ask you this before: but why now? I mean, why did you wait so much time to learn how to ride a horse? Everyone in Jackson seems to know how.”

You cleared your throat, his piercing eyes peering at your movements. “I guess I thought it wasn't necessary back then, before all this. It's one of those things that you don't even consider until it becomes inevitable. I used to believe I had a lot of time left when I was younger,” you had never talked about this with anyone else. There was something so intimate about this conversation, how Joel stood seemingly tongue-tied in front of you, as if he were taking notes of what you were confessing to him. “I remember being a kid and not wanting to use my toys sometimes because I kept waiting for the right moment. But then…”

“You realize there’s no such thing as the right moment,” he finished the sentence for you, and you bowed your head. “Life can end at any moment, especially in a world like ours. That’s why you always gotta do what you wish to. We never know what’ll happen tomorrow.”

“Live for today, hope for tomorrow? That’s your creed?” you tried to mock him, the tension in the stable far from evident, but he didn’t move.

“It’s the way I try to live my own life. I don’t like being left with the desire to do somethin’ I could’ve done earlier. Too old for that.”

Maybe you were gradually losing it. Perhaps just a little. It couldn’t be a coincidence, right? Had he noticed how you acted around him? Were you that obvious?

“So, you would advise me to just…”

“Do whatever you feel right, sweetheart.”

That raspy sweetheart made you give in.

His eyes. His penetrating, gleaming eyes scrutinized your face at the same time you closed the distance between your bodies. From there, you were able to see every freckle, every small detail that you hadn’t previously acknowledged. He parted his lips, as if to speak, but no words other than your name came out. One of your hands made its way up to his cheek, cupping it, feeling the warmth his skin radiated. His head immediately leaned into your touch, like a moth into a flame. 

You kissed him, unable to keep waiting. It took him what felt like ages to kiss you back, his fingers tangling in your hair. He absorbed your whimpers, pressing your back against the nearest wall. Maddening– it was the perfect word to describe how being kissed by Joel felt like. When you thought he was going to draw away from you, he just held you tighter until your lungs implored for some air. Your knees had never felt this weak, and you found yourself grabbing onto his shoulders, already feeling the places where his stubble had left its trace in flames. 

“Joel…” you mumbled against his lips, detaching your mouth from his. Your erratic breaths seemed to sync together like a melody, and you tugged at the collar of his jacket. 

He knew, could see it on your features. “Wanna go to yours?”

Joel took you home. The moment you set foot in the cabin, he closed the door behind him, his hand lingering on the handle as he contemplated you from a distance. You took your coat off first, starting to unzip your pants. There was silence long enough to hear crickets in, the moon up in the sky being the only bystander of your meeting. His eyes roamed the newly exposed skin of your legs and you observed him gulp. 

“Did something happen?” you asked him, a flush crepting up your face. Taking a step forward, one of his hands came to rest on top of yours.

“No, it’s just that– Are you sure you want this?”

Crinkling your nose, you uttered: “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I’m just too old for you,” he warned you, running a knuckle down your cheek. “You should be with guys your age, y’know? Not with an old man like me.”

“I want you,” reassuring him, you got rid of your t-shirt, and the fact he was still dressed up from neck to toes lit some kind of fire inside you. His calloused fingers fiddled with the strap of your bra until it slipped off your shoulder. “This is what I want. Please, Joel.”

It turned out that Joel Miller certainly was a man of manners.

You couldn't help but moan as he grabbed you by the waist, dragging you to the couch by the window and straddling his lap, his hard-on finding its place beneath you, pulsing and in need of more. His tongue brushed yours ever so often, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head as his teeth latched onto the skin of your throat. Joel groaned, the sound, low and primal, having its desired effect on you, your hips involuntarily grinding against his in a delicious but tormenting rhythm that already had you on the verge of tears.

“Joel, please,” you managed to plead, not knowing precisely what you were asking for. His hands cupped your ass, imprinting his fingerprints on the soft flesh, forcing your hips to go harder and harder. The harsh fabric of his pants was definitely going to leave a mark on your cheeks, and thinking that helped you realize that you were the only one –almost– naked. You reached for the buttons of his denim shirt, your lips hovering over his. “Take your clothes off?”

He did the rest himself, throwing his jacket to the floor. When he got to his jeans, he cocked his head. “Why don’t we move this to the bedroom, if you’re so goddamn needy?” The few guys you had been with had never been very talkative during sex; there was even this one specific boy who had asked you to not make a sound while he fucked you. 

But Joel wasn’t like them. It was just starting and you had already realized that he had a dirty mouth, an expectant look on his face every time he waited for your reaction to his words. “Now you’re quiet, huh? Thought you wanted me to fuck you, darlin',” one of his fingers pressed down on your clit, stimulating it through your underwear. He sighed, stopping his movements and pressing the damp pad of it against your lower lip, urging you to taste yourself. “You’re wet, baby. So fuckin’ wet. Have you been like this all day? Bet you would’ve let me take you right there in the forest.”

“Oh my God,” you whined next to his ear, your whole body trembling with desire. “Take me to bed,” you begged him, and next thing you knew, he was grabbing you as if you weighed nothing and heading towards your room. 

Not knowing how, you kept your hands to yourself until he placed you on top of the bed. Joel shoved his jeans down and you didn’t think twice– you stroked his length, the fabric of his boxers only making the slow drag of your hand more satisfying. His long fingers circled your throat, and you moaned as you kept eliciting exquisite noises from him. “Let me take care of you,” his dilated pupils carved holes in your being, his grip doing nothing to cease the ache between your legs. “Please, baby. I need to make you feel good. Been thinkin’ about this for so long.”

“What?” you slowed down your pace, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “You wanted me?”

“Why do you think I began to pick Ellie up from your classes, huh? Because I’m a good, generous man?” Joel parted your knees, getting closer to where you required him the most. “I’m sorry to ruin this, but I’m far from good. Just wanted to see you and your pretty face. Didn’t know if we were on the same page until you came lookin' for me, askin' me to teach you how to ride a damn horse,” you hadn’t noticed your bra was missing till he cupped one of your breasts, flicking your nipple between his fingers. “I’m sure there were many other people you could’ve asked to teach you, but you chose me, didn’t you?”

“Don’t want anybody else,” your lips chased his, a drop of sweat already rolling down your temple. “I didn’t– didn’t know you noticed me.”

“How could I not? If you could only look at yourself like I’m doing right now… You’re a sight, sweetheart, all spread out for me,” removing your panties, he kissed the skin where your inner thighs met, his tongue darting out to draw imaginary figures on your flesh. His mouth was just inches away from your cunt, and you had to tell him.

“Joel?”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve never– nobody has ever done that for me.”

He seemed to understand what you were referring to. It made you tense a bit, despite the fact that you were completely naked in front of him, basically begging him to tear you apart. Still, the realization that you weren't as expert as him hit you out of nowhere. Yeah, it was all fun and games, kissing and touching probably the hottest man you had seen in your almost three decades of life. But said man was a lot older than you, and he had lived his best years in the real world, not this fucked up version you grew up in. You were sure he had been with many different women, which wasn’t a problem– you two were nothing.

“Nobody has ever tasted ya’? That’s what you’re tryin’ to tell me?” you nodded quickly, shoving a strand of his graying hair back away from his eyes. Joel chuckled languidly, squeezing your hips. “Do you want me to? It’s okay if you don’t. We can try somethin’ else.”

“Please,” you’d have time to embarrass yourself later, thinking about the amount of times you had repeated that word. But certain moments were to be lived only once, and though you hoped it wasn't the case, you had to take the chance. “I want you to.”

Four words. It took Joel four words to disappear between your legs, licking a hot stripe up your folds. You nibbled on your bottom lip, a loud moan filling the void of your dorm. He drew sweet patterns in your cunt, discovering a part of you that no one else ever had, and you couldn’t help but to grind against his face as he dipped the tip of his tongue into your entrance. Breathing wasn’t a necessity anymore. You felt as if all the air in the world was being punched out of your lungs, the knot in your belly growing tighter the more Joel spent his precious time keeping you entertained.

At some point, he focused his attention on your clit, circling it over and over again, making you shudder. Suddenly, the pad of his middle finger tested the waters, and he slowly slid it into your cunt, earning a strangled whine from you. Burying your hands in his hair, your glossy eyes looked for him for a second. You shouldn’t have done that, because as you took in the sight of Joel with his own eyes closed, browns knitted, your nostrils flared, and you wondered if it was even possible to want somebody that much.

“Joel, wait, I’m– fuck,” your jaw went slack and you scrunched up your face, two of his thick fingers nudging that spot that made you see stars. “I’m close.” 

“That’s a good thing, sweetheart. Don’t know why you say it in such a dry tone,” his mouth curved into a smile, his chin and stubble shining with your slick. 

Your chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. “I don’t want to come yet.”

“But you will.”

A thing you also learned, apart from horse riding, was that Joel was a determined man.

“Joel–“

“I’ll make you come with my mouth, and then with my cock,” dizziness was starting to blur your vision, your eyelashes fluttering with every hard thrust of his fingers. You glanced up to the ceiling, tears filling your eyes. “Think you can do that for me, be my good girl and come twice?”

You bobbed your head. It was official: he was going to make you come.

Drawing in a long breath, you could feel the unbearable pressure in your core. His name sounded like a prayer on your lips, chanting it in the same way some people expressed their devotion to a certain God. You had your own personal deity, whose tongue accomplished to push you to the limit, licking every drop of your release as if it were a special kind of forbidden elixir.  

Your shoulders sagged and you relaxed under him. Joel kissed you, an open mouthed and filthy kiss crowning that moment as you panted. Through the cotton fabric of his boxers, you felt his hard-on poking your thigh. Shoving his underwear down, you took him in your hand, hot and just big, stroking him for real this time. You twisted your wrist at the tip, and he slumped forward, almost crushing you with his entire body weight, his breath dampening your neck. “Wanna fuck you, baby,” he croaked, his hips chasing your touch.

Out of all the scenarios you had ever imagined, none of them included being split open by Joel. You had a very vivid imagination, but no amount of creativity would’ve prepared you for what his cock would feel like inside of you. He bottomed out, his arms shaking where they rested on each side of your head. Joel’s breath quickened as he pulled out, just letting the tip, and then thrusting into you again.

“Fuck,” you didn’t recognize your own voice. It was even hard to decipher if you were still alive or dead from how magnificent he felt.

“So good, sweetheart. You’re so good, such a good girl,” he groaned, fucking deeper into you. His cock pulsed inside you, your cunt squeezing him. “Can’t believe how– how tight you are. You’re gonna make me lose my f–fucking mind.”

It was just too much. You hadn’t even recovered from your last orgasm before Joel started pounding into you like his life depended on it, the obscene sound of skin slapping skin ringing out in the room. 

“You gonna come, huh? Gonna make a mess?” you could sense he was also close, his pace faltering as seconds went by, words slurring together. He pressed his forehead against yours, clenching his fists and taking in a sharp breath. “Fuck. I’m not gonna last much longer, baby.”

Come inside, you wished to tell him, to feel his seed dripping out of your greedy hole, painting your walls. But you weren't on the pill; it was also the first time you were sleeping with Joel, and you didn’t know how he would take the… suggestion. “Close,” you yelped instead, tears shimmering in your eyes as Joel’s body hovered over you like the most perfect eclipse. 

His thrusts became more frenzied, if possible. “That’s it, darlin’. Come for me,” your gaze fixated upon him, his eyes flickering with hunger. “Wanna see you when you soak my cock.”

Your body went limp, your orgasm hitting you like a truck. Soreness took place in your throat as you moaned his name through the aftershocks, fireworks exploding behind your eyelids. Going rigid, you let go of Joel’s shoulders. He pulled out, mumbling something you didn’t quite catch. You fisted his cock, trying to give him the release he so yearned for. Joel kissed you, messy teeth and saliva taking part of it. Heavy on your hand, his dick twitched as you squeezed the base, roped of his warm cum splattering your belly. The scene reminded you of a painting; he was the talented painter, and you his blank canvas, waiting to be signed with his name.

It was the turn of silence now. None of you said anything for a while, until Joel used his boxers to clean up his cum from your stomach, smiling apologetically at you. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” your fingers delicately traced the contours of his chest as he reclined, enveloping you in the embrace of his strong arms. “Will you stay?”

Please say yes.

“Only if you want me to.”

Moral of the story: learning how to ride a horse can actually be nice if your teacher happens to be Joel Miller.

[xkaidaxxxx]

Fortunate Ones

BAKUGOU X READER

Mentions: Corrupt Government, Quirkless, Injections, Pregnancy, Dad Bakugou, Fluff!

reblogs are appreciated! <3

There was a point in time where life was happy for everyone. Then one day things changed.

Those with Quirks lived a better life. Good homes, good environment, upperhand on job opportunities. Quirkless born have it rough. A child should have their quirk by the age of 5 and if not the government will give the child another year just in case they’re late bloomers. If no quirk is developed by the age of 6 they’re separated from their parents and put into the quirkless side of town, Although they are allowed to travel anywhere.They get paired with a good family. They’re not allowed to have any contact with their old family.

You grew up with Bakugou and Izuku. Yeah Bakugou was an asshole but you still followed behind him just as everyone else did. You and Deku had each other. Yes you were parted from your birth parents but the ones you were given too were great. They love you like their own. Deku went through the same thing which is why you guys are understanding each other. You thought you’d be with Izuku forever as besties and have a possibility to end up with Bakugou.

Izuku never told either of you about training with All Might. He couldn’t. He didn’t even tell you about getting into U.A. You thought you'd be going to school. You knew Bakugou got in and it hurt you like hell. Parting ways with someone you fell in love with. “ Since when do you have a quirk!?” You yelled at Izuku. “You’re a piece of shit for not telling her sooner.” Bakugou said. “ It’s not what you think,”Izuku said. He wanted to stay with his best friend. He wished the three of you could attend the best hero school there is. He cared more about being a hero. “ I can’t believe it. How..just have fun with your quirk Izuku. Bakugou have fun as well. I guess this is it…” you say tears running down your face. “Who knows…maybe we can meet up one day or whatever.” He said handing you a piece of paper with his number on it. You smiled. “Y-Yeah..thanks. I’ll miss you guys more than anything.” you said. Bakugou hated it when he was forced into a group hug. He hates physical contact but tolerated it for you. He’s always had a soft side, though he's a total asshole. 

Everyone went their separate ways. You didn’t stay in contact with Izuku. He’s “too busy.” when in reality he didn't make time. He cared more about being a hero. Bakugou is very serious about it too but he tried and did make time even if it was talking on the phone or meeting up in the city going to places where Quirkless people were allowed in. Sometimes he’d even facetime with you at night even after a long and tiring day. Yes he’d knock out mid way with you but he made the time and it made you happy. 

As time went on Bakugou developed feelings towards you and finally confessed after becoming a hero and you two Immediately started dating. During the ending of highschool there was a bill being set. Quirkless people were not allowed to house with a quirk user unless married. Then 2 years later the bill passed. 

“We could always lie. We don’t have to worry about it. Let me handle it.” Bakugou said, holding you close. You were both 20 and ready to move out. Bakugou was making a great amount of money from being a hero even though he's young. You were in your 3rd year in college studying for business management and English language. You had a small business. It’s going very well. You always have orders coming in. “We can’t lie about it,Kats. If they find out then what?” you asked. “We’ll make it happen eventually.” he replied, pecking your cheek. You nodded slightly. It was your plan with him. Him becoming a hero, you finishing school and starting your small business then soon enough live together. You continued your homework. Thank god you’re the smartest in all your class and gained trust from your teachers. They’d give great recommendations for when you need a job. 

“Hey mom. I brought her to meet you. You’ll love her.” Katsuki said. He brought you into the living room. “Really!? All this time?” Mitsuki said, giving you a big hug. You returned it. She’s known you since a kid; she just never thought you’d end up dating her son. “You should’ve told me since you started dating her. Why did you keep it a secret for so long?” She asked, letting me go. “I told him I wasn’t ready not until I was almost done with university.” You answered. “We were planning to move in together but…the new bill was placed..” he said gripping your hand lightly. Mitsuki knows how much he loves you because when you and Bakugou started she noticed how much he started changing and in a great way. “You two are young. Still in the beginning of the new chapter. Us parents will be here to support you both.” Mitsuki said. 

When you and Katsuki turned 21 he proposed to you. While you were at work he decorated the dining room with candles and roses.(he lived on his own.) He made your favorite meal. The lights were dimmed. “Hey Kats. I'm here. What did you need help with?” you asked as you took off your heels. “Yeah I'm in the dining room,” he replied. You went over and blushed as you saw the lovely decorated table. You both enjoyed the food. You talked and laughed. “You’re such a romantic, it's cute. Thank you for this.” You said smiling. “I have one more surprise.” He walked over to you.” he replied and made you stand up. “ Where are you taking me?” you asked. “No No, just stand there okay. Close your eyes, loser.” he replied. You obeyed him. Bakugou took out the ring and got down on one knee. “Open.” he ordered. When you saw him your heart was racing. “Y/n I'm in love with you and you know that. You give me everything you have to offer. You always express your love to me. Make me the happiest man in the world and marry me.” He asked. You nodded as you started crying with him. He slipped the ring on your finger. When the wedding happened a year later you both were so happy, loved and fortunate, very very fortunate. 

You must be wondering why? Well thank god you and Bakugou decided to try for a baby during the honeymoon and it happened. You were blessed twins, baby boys. During the time you were 7 months the government released the news about planning on injecting half of the quirkless females. An injection to stop them from reproducing. You had your babies and after you got approval from the doctor to have another child. You and Bakugou got to work. It was hard to take care of the twins while pregnant but you and Bakugou want a little tribe. 

“ Morning my wonderful boys.” Bakugou said to the twins who were awake and ready for their bottles. He carried both of them and got comfortable on the couch he fed both of them. Struggled but fed them. You were still asleep. He makes sure you get proper rest which is why he took time off work. To help you around the house another set of twins are on the way. You woke up around 9:30 am“Kats?Kousuke?Kensuke?” You called. “In the bathroom babe!” Bakugou said. He was giving the twins their baths. Kensuke was the calm one and Kousuke…sweet lord he’s the wild one. You walked in and saw Bakugou’s shirt all wet. The boys cooed and kicked as Bakugou made silly faces. Kousuke splashed water as Bakugou lifted him to scrub his back. “Let me help kats.” you said with a smile. It took about a good 30 minutes to bath them and have them all set . 

You had a small and cute gender reveal only you,bakugou, his parents, yours and your 2 siblings. It was inside the second nursery. Your sister knows the genders so she planned it. “You guys ready?” Mitsuki recorded. You and Bakugou took a deep breath and then let go as you both opened the closet. Half of it was filled with boy clothes and the other with girl clothes. You shared a kiss with Bakugou. Everyone clapped. “ I love you and our babies.” Bakugou said as he rubbed your bump. “ We love you too, loser.” you replied. Months later you pushed your beautiful babies out. 

You guys want a K family and you also wanted to have one more pregnancy. Hopefully you’re not one of the chosen quirkless females for the injection and lucky for guys you werent. By the time you and Bakugou were 26 you had 6 kids. 

Kids' names. K family. Eldest to youngest.

Kousuke Bakugou(m)

Kensuke Bakugou (m) 

Kyousuke Bakugou (m)

Kimiko Bakugou (f)

Kaoru Bakugou (f) 

Kaisei Bakugou (m)

You changed the kids out of their pjs and into cute clothes. Your mother made a family gathering. Bakugou hugged you from behind then nibbled on your ear whispering, “We should have one more, don't you think my sexy girl.” Your eyes widened when you felt his bulge. “ Go fix your problem in our room.” you said. “ Come on one more?” he begged, leaving a hickey on your neck. You saw the kids fall asleep as you packed up their diaper bags. “ Katsuki Bakugou no.” you replied. His hands roamed your body. When he got to your breasts you moaned as he pinched your nipples,you felt your milk leak a bit. “ one more.” he whispered in your ear and then licked your neck. “Fuck it.” you gave in. He was about to carry you away until baby Kaisei started crying. Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Mommys boy for sure,” he said. You smacked him then carried Kaisei, rocking him in your arms. Bakugou looked at him playing with his little hand. Kaisei wrapped his hand around Bakugou’s finger and gripped it. When the kids do that to him he always ends up crying. You never knew why but he always smiles and pecks their hands in the process. 

The best part of it all is that your children grew up with quirks. When they got their quirks you and Bakugou were blessed. Blessed to be able to stay with your family. 

You both were blessed by God to keep your loving family.

[backwzzds]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ RORONOA ZORO AS A FATHER…

zoro would be one those fathers that most people assume would be terrible, but unsurprisingly, he’s very good with kids, as told canonically.

he’ll only have one daughter. he can’t handle anymore brats.

when your daughter was born, he’d bought up possibly naming her after his late childhood best friend. you knew how much she meant to him, so it was no problem making sure your daughter carried on her name, and hopefully her future dream. roronoa kuina.

lots of people assume zoro’s a strict dad, but most days, he’s pretty chilled back.

he came off as not having any interest in learning how to do kuina’s type 3-4 hair, but when you secretly caught him watching a youtube video as he practiced on one of your wig mannequins you knew he wanted to learn from the start

when kuina’s a toddler, you teach him how to do simple styles on her hair. to detangle from the bottom, always make sure her hair was moisturized, and just learn the small things about her. like how she was tenderheaded—something she inevitably inherited from you.

he’ll take her to get braids from the african aunties whenever you’re busy or stuck at work. kuina, already knowing the routine would sit on the chair and zoro’s big body would be squeezed between two parents talking on the phone for nearly nine hours straight, occasionally heading out to grab some food for himself and kuina. the things he would do for that girl.

kuina would be in the big chair swinging her little feet as she watched youtube video’s on her daddy’s phone. she’d always smile at the fact that you were his lock screen and she was his home screen—a picture of him coddling with her to sleep when she was just a baby. lord knows how much them two love they sleep!

he’d be so overprotective, he would teach kuina her parents’ full name, address, emergency phone numbers, and everything in between by the time she’s 6. no stranger would ever had a chance to mess with the daughter of roronoa zoro.

despite his off putting (and quite rude) personality, he’d be the best one to give advice. only to you and his little kuina though. most wouldnt even consider it advice, but baby kuina always loved it when her daddy told her what he thinks she should do in a troubling situation.

“papa what do you think i should do?” the little girl frowns. “i really think i hurt the girl’s feelings. but i didn’t mean to!”

zoro pops his one good eye open from its closed resting position as he sat on the couch with his arms folded. “are you sorry?”

kuina gives him solemn eyes and nods her head. “really sorry.”

with a quick whit, zoro answers straight, “apologize. don’t make the situation about you. she’s the one you hurt, make sure she realizes that you know that.”

kuina allows her father’s words to sink in her brain in order to fully process everything he’d said. when a bright idea comes to her head, she wraps her arms around her father and places a wet kiss on his cheek, yelling, “thank you papa!” before skipping off to make amends with her friend.

would sueprise teachers and parents when he shows up to some PTA’s alone. you were caught up at work, so zoro took up parental volunteering opportunities on his own. of course, he only did these things for you and kuina, so he didn’t care that the single parents were eye goggling him with lust. not when kuina bragged to all her friends about how cool her dad was.

zoro tries to create an emotion-based home. he doesn’t want kuina growing up in a cold home like you and him did, so he always made it his best to publicly express his emotions or whatever he was feeling at home. he made sure kuina saw him love on you in order to see and know that her parents always loved each other—not just for show—and made sure that she knew it was okay to express her own emotions because she was a lot like him, more than he’d have liked.

when he catches kuina stiffile in her cry about him having to miss a chunk of her school play due to a very heinous and reaosnable excuse (traffic was a bitch), he pulls her off to the side and allows her space to express how she feels.

“you can cry. it’s okay to cry, marimo.” zoro kneels down to kuina’s height as she hangs her head low, too embarrassed to look up and reveal her tears. the one bond they had, was him calling her marimo because if you looked at the both of them—they were damn near identical twins. you were convinced your genes didn’t even fucking try to make it to the egg on time. only he could call her that though. that was their thing.

zoro gives her a genuine apology. he hated seeing his pretty princess cry, but he knew she had to do it. “i’m sorry. i got here as quick as i could, hm? i’d never miss anything about you on purpose.”

at the sound of her father’s soft voice, kuina looks up and wipes away some of her tears. “you promise papa?” her voice is sultry as you wipe at your back, heart warming at the beautiful wholesome interaction between the two.

behind zoro’s back were a mini bouquet of flowers and candy. “course i do kid. c’mere, i’m gonna make it up to you.”

lord knows zoro wasn’t the best father. he didn’t even think he was a good father—this was all new to him. but sometimes, he’d liked to believe that what he was doing in the present was enough to give kuina the future he never got to have.

[gender-trash]

(i am seriously late in posting about this due to The Problems BUT whatever! its here now!!)

somewhere around late november 2022, i asked my dad "hey are there any out of print technical books you'd like a reprint of for christmas?"

he linked me to a dubious black-and-white pdf of Foundations of Mechanical Accuracy. now, i wound up checking out a copy through link+, and the original edition is a really nicely put together book! the chapters are themed around various types of measurements (length, angle, etc), and they all have these cute little diagrams which the endpapers reuse in a lil repeating pattern... the image captions are done in this really lovely dark red that did not scan for SHIT... tons and tons of diagrams and illustrations and images (both color and b&w)... just, all around, a fucking nice book!! (see also @morrak's post about it here.)

and that made me feel kind of bad about the crappiness of the pdf, which is where the Problems began. i used my phone to take pictures of all the photos and color diagrams in the original and went about replacing them in the pdf, using what turned out to be the world's worst pdf editing software (i also got through replacing all the image captions in chapter 1 of 5 before my dad convinced me to give up). i did NOT finish the pdf editing before christmas 2022 (i was going somewhat off the deep end, because both my housemates were away visiting family and i had zero external structure in my life so it was just me and my cat and this stupid FUCKING pdf wrecking my sleep schedule together); i poked away at it for most of the rest of my time off and then got so goddamn sick of it i put the project away for months. "it'll be a birthday gift instead", i said optimistically (my dad's birthday is in april! it should have been enough time!)

gentle readers, i did not finish the pdf editing by april. mostly because it was such a miserable slog that i put it off until the last possible moment and then tried to make up for it with another death march.

hating both myself and the project again, i decided i was Not going to let myself typeset Anything Else before it was done, and then took a break to bind my immortal (using the renegade publishing typeset! i didn't do any typesetting!!). SURELY, i said, i can finish this in time for christmas 2023.

i'm sure you know where this is going.

in my defense i DID finish the pdf editing by christmas, despite first doing every other possible procrastination project (including a second edition of the little second century warlord book), because by this point my dad had managed to convince me to lower my standards. on the evening of the 22nd i kicked off the print job and said to myself "this will finish printing overnight and then tomorrow i can work on sewing the textblock!"

late on the 23rd, after lots of babysitting and using at least one cartridge of every color ink in my printer, the print job was finally done. (my sweet and lovely cat wants SO BADLY to hunt and stalk the printer while it is printing -- more specifically, the printed pages, i think because they tend to make noise and move and then STOP moving. for this reason, the printer is kept in the craft room, because the cat can be shut out of the craft room and thus prevented from chewing on the pages when i have an all-day book printing job going. unfortunately the craft room was also being pressed into service as a guest room at the time so 80% of the floor space was consumed by an air mattress which i had to repeatedly trip over in order to reach the printer and replace the ink cartridges.)

then i went to my parents' house on the 24th and 25th and apologized to my dad (again) for not having the book finished. but this worked out well because we finished putting together my awesome new book clamp:

(the feet still aren't done being painted so they're just dry-fit on for now but you can still clamp books in it and that's what matters!!)

i came home, sewed the textblock (french link stitch over four linen tapes, with sewn endbands made of variegated embroidery floss over linen cord, and kozo paper glued over the spine)

... and promptly realized i SHOULD HAVE PUT IN MORE OF A GUTTER because some of the text was getting reeeeeeal close to the spine. "it's fine!" i said. "i just have to make sure it lays flat!! what better time than to try out K118 binding, a technique i have literally never done before and which people on the bookbinding discord notoriously have a hard time pulling off first try! i even have tyvek tape for it!"

so it turns out that tyvek tape isn't actually tyvek with glue on it, it's tape FOR attaching pieces of tyvek TO EACH OTHER, which maybe i could have guessed if i'd done even the slightest amount of research or planning. at this point i think it was the 27th and i was still angling to get this thing done by new year's, so no time to order Actual Tyvek.

fortunately, i had ALSO received An Package in the mail with yarn for a totally unrelated knitting project... shipped in a tyvek envelope.

i peeled all the shipping labels and stickers off my tyvek envelope, cut that shit up, and glued it on there.

and THEN it was time for gluing on covers, which i thought was going to be easy because i had actually thought ahead and ordered materials (specifically acid-free museum board), except when i cracked open the box of museum board i decided i Didn't Like It because the surface was too soft and easily dented, so i glued onto it the too-thin board material i'd previously been using (so that the cardboard goes on the outside of the book). this worked super well (the cardboard stuff has a tendency to curl up from the glue moisture, but the museum board doesn't!) and i'll probably use it on other stuff in the future.

i thought the blue bookcloth i used was kind of boring but i showed my dad the available cloth options and he really liked it, so... what do you know? i cut the piece i used on the back cover very slightly too short but it wound up being covered by the leather, so you can barely tell.

and the leather... a scrap just baaaaarely big enough from my bag of leather scraps from discount fabrics... and this the first time i'd ever attempted to put leather on a book... AND YET the only complaint i have is that i didn't manage to put an even amount on the front and back. it's reasonably square and straight!! amazing!!

i am super super happy with how this project came out (especially given the number of problems i encountered) and oh my god check out how much the spine bends

AND, AS A NEW YEAR'S PRESENT, I FINALLY MANAGED TO GIVE IT TO MY DAD

[punkshort]

look what we've become - ch.4

Chapter Summary: You finally get a chance to talk things out with Joel, but when you volunteer to take Ellie back to her family, it causes more tension.

Chapter Warnings: language, talk of parental death, discussions of pregnancy and marriage, brief mention of slavery, angst, Ellie being a cockblock, Joel is a little mean at the very end

WC: 8K

Series masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

It was the end of August, and it felt like the summer saved the worst for last. The heat from the sun laid over the town like a thick blanket, making it nearly difficult to breathe when you were working, forcing you to take more breaks than usual. Working outside in the garden attached to the greenhouse was actually more comfortable than being inside the building itself, the humidity so stifling you could almost reach out and touch it, but you still chose to take your breaks inside. Right in front of the little oscillating fan. Pulling your hair off your neck, you ran a damp cloth across your neck and chest, collecting all the sweat that had accumulated there as the weak breeze from the fan dried your skin.

You were alone at work all week. A bitter part of you thought it fitting, considering how lonely you felt at home, too. But it afforded you a lot of time to think. And cry. But eventually, the tears stopped, your body too depleted and your head too sore to keep it up. Now all that was left was the loneliness and the guilt. The more you replayed that day in your mind, the worse you felt. The look on his face and the way he tried to hold back his tears haunted you at every turn. The pain in his voice, pain that you caused, unforgettable.

And you deserved it, the way he left. You deserved so much worse. He did so much for you, and this was how you repaid him? He saved you, time and time again. He found Jackson, he built you a home, built you a life. And he hardly asked for anything in return.

It shouldn't have come to this. You should have been an adult, talked to him before it was too late, discussed your plans for the future. But how could you be expected to, when you lived in a world where a future was hardly a guarantee?

It surprised you that he even wanted anything to do with you after that night. That he even bothered to ask if you still wanted him, shocked he would still want you. Of course, you told him you wanted him. You did want him. You loved him more than anything, but you didn't feel deserving of him. Not after the way you treated him. He deserved so much better.

And you felt so fucking selfish for keeping him. For breaking his heart, and then begging him to stay.

You promised yourself you were going to talk to him when he returned. That is, if he even wanted to talk. To tell him everything, put it all on the table and let him decide. You owed him that much.

When Jesse and Jake returned without him, your heart sank. You thought the worst. Standing at the gate with Maria on your one side and Carrie on the other, waiting for him to appear. Maria thought the worst, too. You felt it when she clutched your hand, after Carrie ran to hug Jake and you both watched them joyfully reunite, neither of you wanting to ask, afraid of the answer. To his credit, Jesse told you the story the moment he made his way through the small crowd of welcomers, instantly flooding you with relief.

It was really only a minute, maybe two, where you thought you lost him. The last conversation you had wouldn't be the last words he heard from you. But for that minute or two, your world stopped, you forgot how to breathe, and your only thought was - my life is over, I can't go on, I'll never experience a shred of happiness again.

So, yes. When he came home, you needed to do whatever you possibly could to fix the wound you caused. Because what you had was worth fighting for.

You stood, mustering the energy to get through the next couple hours before you could head back home when the greenhouse door swung open and shut very quickly, taking you off guard. You glanced up, not noticing anyone at first, and wondered if you imagined it before you saw the top of a girl's head bobbing along one of the aisles slowly, admiring the various plants and flowers that were so tall at this point in the season, it resembled a jungle.

"Hello?" you called out, craning your neck down the aisle. You made eye contact with the girl, one you didn't recognize, and she froze, staring at you with eyes widened, clearly not expecting anyone to be in the building.

Frowning, you began to walk towards her, but stopped when she looked like she was ready to bolt back out the door.

"It's alright," you said, holding your hands up to her. "What's your name?"

Her gaze shifted back and forth quickly between your eyes, examining you carefully before answering.

"Ellie."

"Hi, Ellie. Are you- is your mom or dad around?" you asked, lowering your hands. She shook her head.

"They're dead," she replied flatly, and you felt your heart squeeze in your chest.

"I'm sorry," you said softly. "Mine are, too."

She looked at you differently now, more with curiosity than fear. Taking a couple steps forward, with her finger trailing gently along the plants that hung over the side of the tables, she came closer to the end of the aisle, where you stood in front of your workstation.

"Yeah?" she asked, and you nodded. "Before or after?"

"After," you told her.

"Mine, too," Ellie replied, her voice laced with sadness.

You stared at one another for a few moments, both wondering what the other was going to do next. You knew Ellie didn't belong there, that she was trying to hide, and she knew you figured that out already.

"It really fucking sucked," you finally said, and her eyes lit up, the corners of her mouth turning up into a small smile before replying.

"Yeah, it did really fucking suck," she said, and you both giggled simultaneously.

You were about to offer her some water, noting she was wearing long sleeves on such a hot day, when the door burst open once again, startling you both. Tommy pushed inside and glanced around, his eyes immediately landing on Ellie, and his shoulders sagged with relief.

"In here!" Tommy called out through the open door. And it all happened so fast, you didn't even have time to process that if Tommy was home, then so was-

"Joel," you said softly to yourself when your eyes fell on his familiar, broad frame entering the building. He looked at you first before allowing his gaze to drift to Ellie, his brow furrowing with annoyance, then back to you. You swallowed roughly, and you heard Ellie curse under her breath next to you.

"Oh, great," she muttered, and you tore your eyes away from him to look at her now, for the first time putting the pieces together. This must be the girl Jesse told you they were taking to another camp in exchange for medicine.

"What're you thinkin', runnin' off like that?" Tommy said to Ellie, walking down the aisle towards her. You could feel Joel's eyes on you from where he stood by the door as you looked at Tommy questioningly.

"What's going on?" you asked. "I thought Jesse said you were taking her to another settlement?"

"Change of plans," was all Tommy offered, reaching his arm out and motioning for Ellie to step forward and follow him.

"She's staying?"

"Not for long," Joel finally said as he narrowed his eyes at Ellie.

"C'mon, you can stay with one of the teachers in town til we can get you back home," Tommy told her, sounding tired. Ellie followed behind Tommy slowly, admiring the plants as she walked.

"You're taking her back to her home?" you asked, following behind them.

"Yeah, no thanks to Joel," she said with a sneer as she walked by him. He rolled his eyes and moved out of the way, allowing Tommy and Ellie to exit.

"Will you two give it a rest? Goddamn, enough is enough," Tommy said, sounding like he was scolding two children. But before you could ask more questions, they were gone, leaving just you and Joel.

You looked at him, your fingers nervously fidgeting, tangling together. Now that he was right in front of you, you realized you had no idea what you were going to say. No rehearsed speech. And the way he looked at you in that moment made you feel like you kicked a puppy, his big, brown eyes wide with lingering pain, and the knot in your stomach tightened. Taking a shaky breath in, you straightened your posture, trying to summon some confidence, but failing.

"Did'ya move out?" he asked, breaking the silence, fists flexing at his sides.

"What?" you asked softly, your brows knit. "No, of course not." He exhaled loudly, like he had been holding his breath waiting for your answer.

"Do you... want me to?" you asked him, casting your eyes down to your feet, unable to look him in the eye if the answer was yes.

"No," he said simply, and you nodded, relief washing over you, eyes still glued to the floor.

The heat was becoming unbearable in the greenhouse now that you weren't directly in front of the fan. You dragged your eyes back up to Joel and noticed his shirt was already damp and his face was flushed, sweat trickling from his hairline down the side of his head.

"I have a couple more hours here, but after, did you want to talk?" you asked, chewing on your lip. He stared at you, his eyes wide, jaw tense, body rigid, and he nodded. Other than still looking hurt, he was impossible to read.

"Okay," you said softly, looking away and turning to pick up your bucket of tools and gloves from the ground. When you straightened back up, you were shocked to feel his strong arms wrap around you, pulling you into his chest quickly. Your eyes fluttered shut and you dropped your tools in favor of circling your arms around his waist. You inhaled deeply, missing everything about him: his scent, his warmth, his touch, his voice. His heart hammered in his chest, you could feel it fluttering against your cheek, and you squeezed him even tighter, not even caring about the heat anymore.

His arms loosened and you opened your eyes again, allowing him to take a step back so you could look up at him.

"Joel," you whispered, reaching a hand up to his jaw, but he took another step backwards, clearing his throat.

"I'll see you tonight," he said, then quickly pushed the door open, disappearing and leaving you all alone with your heart stuck in your throat and tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

He was relieved when he finally made his way home and confirmed with his own eyes that you didn't move your things out of the house. Back when he hurt Jake, he came home to find you in the middle of packing all your things, leaving him in agony for four excruciating months.

Dropping his gear by the front door, he dragged himself up the steps, wincing at the pain in his back and hips from the past several days on horseback, until he reached the shower. The heat from the water helped the ache in his bones, but he still popped two ibuprofen. He hardly slept well on these trips, his body not used to sleeping on the forest floor anymore, so the urge to collapse into bed was strong, but he fought it.

He wandered down to the kitchen in search of food, and finding some leftovers in the fridge, ate over the sink as he stared out the window, his mind reeling. He spent the entire trip wondering what was going through your head, and he was determined to find out.

Pacing around the house, he spent the rest of the afternoon trying to stay busy, trying not to let his anxiety squeeze his chest like it used to. His panic attacks had gotten much better over the past couple years, but he still had moments here and there that brought him to his knees. Usually, you were there to help, to talk him through it. To help ground him.

When you arrived home, he had your kitchen table upside down, the four legs sticking straight up in the air with tools scattered on the floor around him. His back was hunched over as he twisted a screwdriver into the wood firmly with a grunt, then sat back on his heels to give the leg a shake, testing for any movement before standing up with a sigh. Turning around, he froze when he realized you had been leaning up against the wall, quietly watching him work.

"Didn't hear you come in," he said, scooping down to collect his tools and putting them back in his toolbox, one by one.

"What are you doing?" you asked him, and you could feel your pulse quickening as your nerves settled in.

"Fixin' the table, been wobbly for weeks," he muttered, and you nodded as if you had any clue what he was talking about, fairly certain that he was just looking for something to do to occupy his time. He locked his toolbox and put it on one of the kitchen chairs before running his fingers through his hair roughly and turning back around to face you.

"Is it me?" he asked bluntly, and your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"No!" you told him immediately, and pushed off the wall to close the gap, about to reach out to him, but hesitated. "It's absolutely not you," you confirmed again.

"Then what is it?" he demanded, chest rising and falling faster than normal as he stared at you, his forehead crinkled with worry.

"It's me," you said with a shrug, as if the answer was obvious. "I'm scared, Joel."

"What's there to be scared about?" he asked, tilting his head to the side, his hands itching to reach out and hold you, to prove there was nothing to fear.

"Everything!" you said, exasperated. "Look around! We barely survived this, and who knows what tomorrow will bring. But to have a baby? A helpless, little baby who doesn't understand they need to be quiet if we are in danger, who wouldn't have access to the medical care you and I had when we were little-"

"These new people have tons of medicine," he told you, shaking his head. "Whatever a baby would need, I can get."

"Okay, fine. But the rest, Joel... if we had a baby and something happened to this place... to us-" your voice caught in your throat at the thought of a baby being orphaned, all alone and scared. Then your mind drifted to your conversation with Ellie, the perfect example of a child abandoned, left to depend on strangers to take care of her.

It seemed as though Joel either made the same connection, or finally understood your fears, because he sighed and hung his head.

"Alright," he agreed, shoulders sagging.

"Joel, if a child is something you really want, it's not fair for me to stop you from doing that," you said, blinking away the tears.

"I don't want a kid unless it's with you!" he said angrily, turning away so he could pace around the kitchen. "Quit sayin' shit like that."

"I'm sorry," you said softly, sitting down weakly in one of the kitchen chairs, staring at your hands in your lap. He sighed and stopped pacing, choosing instead to brace his hands on the kitchen island, staring at you from across the room.

"It's fine," he said unconvincingly.

"No, it's not," you said, looking up and calling out his lie. You could see the tension in his jaw from where you sat across the room, a muscle twitching under his patchy beard.

"No, it's not," he echoed in agreement. "But I'll get over it."

You weren't sure what to say after that. Part of you wanted to tell him again that he deserved everything he wanted out of life, and you felt so selfish for not feeling the same way, but you knew he would get angry if you suggested it again. So you remained silent, letting him work through his thoughts while you waited.

"And marriage?" he asked after a few minutes, trying to keep the hurt from his voice.

"I think I just need some time," you told him, feeling guilty enough for denying him a family.

"Okay," he said, looking down at his hands splayed on the counter. His face relaxed as he audibly exhaled, and you could tell your answer gave him a bit of relief.

"Are you sure it's okay?" you asked timidly, and he glanced back up at you.

"Yes," he said, pushing off the counter and rounding the island. He crouched down in front of you, still seated on the kitchen chair haphazardly placed in the middle of the room, the kitchen table still upturned. Taking your hands in his, he gave them a reassuring squeeze. "We'll get through this," he told you softly, and you pressed your lips in a thin line to keep them from trembling.

"You promise?" you asked shakily, eyes watering, and he nodded.

"Promise," he said firmly. He reached up, fingers pinching your chin gently as you stared at one another before he tugged your face forward, pressing his lips softly against yours. You could tell he was trying, but you didn't feel the usual heat behind the kiss. It felt mechanical and distant, but when he pulled back, you forced a small smile, anyway.

Maybe you both just needed some time.

Tommy didn't waste any time. The very next day after arriving back in Jackson, he began to organize a group of men to go raid the neighboring police stations for guns and weapons, Joel included. The plan was to only be gone for one night, maybe two, which wasn't too bad, but considering the fragile state of your relationship, it made you uneasy.

You both went through the motions of your typical routine. Getting ready for work at the greenhouse while he repacked his bag with fresh clothes and food. The morning he left, he walked you to work like he normally would, neither of you hardly saying a word, both trying not to acknowledge the ripple of tension between you. He gave you a quick kiss, told you he would miss you, you told him to be safe, and you each went your separate ways.

You wished you had more time together before he had to leave again, maybe it would have made you feel better. Less anxious, less distracted, less questions. The first morning was spent rethinking everything the two of you said, every interaction. And you tried not to dwell on the fact that, for the first time in a very long time, you woke up without his arms around you. Instead, he was curled up on his side of the bed, not even facing your direction. So, when Ellie found her way back into the greenhouse that afternoon, you were grateful for the distraction.

"Hey," she said softly behind you, causing you to jump.

"Ellie! Hey, what are you up to?" you asked her, standing up with a grunt. You had been hunched over for too long, as evidenced by your spine crackling when you stretched.

"Nothing really," she said, glancing around at the plants. You noticed once again that she was wearing a long sleeved shirt.

"Did Julia offer you any new clothes?" you asked with a frown.

"Yep."

"Aren't you hot?"

"A little," she said with a shrug, and you decided to drop it when it became clear she wasn't going to offer more of an explanation.

The two of you spent the next couple hours occasionally chatting, but mostly sitting in a comfortable silence while you worked. Ellie would watch you and ask if you needed help, and to make her feel useful, you would ask her to get you a watering can, or a certain tool. She seemed to enjoy helping, noticing she became more relaxed as the afternoon wore on.

"You know, you're staying right across the street from my house," you told her as you began cleaning up.

"I know," she said, and you looked up at her, surprised.

"You do?"

"Yeah. I saw you come home yesterday," she said, perched on top of your workstation, legs swinging back and forth.

"Oh. Why didn't you say anything?" you asked as you lifted your apron over your head to hang on the wall.

"Dunno. You seemed like you were in a rush."

She was perceptive. She didn't offer much about herself, but she seemed to read people very well. A byproduct of the last few years of her life, most likely.

"I know all this must be confusing for you," you said, leaning up against the workstation, crossing your arms. "But you can stop by my house anytime, alright? If you need anything, or just want to come hang out. Here, too. If you want."

"Yeah, okay," she said quickly, a small smile spreading across her face. "Thanks."

"You wanna walk with me back home?" you asked her, and she nodded, slipping down from the table and bouncing alongside you as you walked out of the building and back into the sweltering heat.

"How's it going over at Julia's?"

"It's fine," Ellie replied, kicking a small stone as you walked up the street together. "She's nice. But..."

You glanced at her from the corner of your eye, waiting for her to continue.

"She's old. And she's a little boring. Gave me a bedtime like I'm some little kid and made me say my prayers before dinner," she said.

"How old are you, anyway?" you inquired, realizing you never asked before.

"Almost fourteen."

"Yeah, that's a little old for a bedtime," you said, nodding in agreement as you approached your house. You stopped in the middle of the road, expecting Ellie to say her goodbyes and head over across the street, but she hesitated.

"You wanna grab dinner with me?" you asked her, and she looked up at you with a grin, nodding enthusiastically. You smiled back and jutted your chin towards Julia's house.

"Go tell her I'm taking you to the dining hall, I just want to change real quick and I'll meet you back out here."

"Okay!" Ellie replied, looking the most excited you'd seen her since you met.

After you cleaned yourself up, you stepped out of your door to find Ellie pushing herself back and forth on your swing at the end of the wraparound porch.

"Having fun?" you teased, and she jumped off the swing, sticking the landing and trotting over to you.

"Yeah, your house is really cool," she said, following you down the steps as you made your way to the center of town.

"Thanks. Joel built it for me. Well, the swing and porch, anyway."

"Joel?" she said questioningly, her nose scrunching up.

"Yeah, he was with the group-"

"I know who he is," she said, cutting you off and casting her eyes down to her feet. "Are you guys married or something?"

"Uh, no," you said, ignoring the fluttering in your chest. "But we're together."

"Oh," she said quietly.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. He just doesn't seem to like me much," she said with a shrug, but you could tell she was trying to put on a brave face.

"I'm sure that's not true. He doesn't even know you," you said, walking up the steps to the Tipsy Bison.

"Don't think that matters," she mumbled. "He didn't want to bring me here. Wanted to take me back to them."

Joel had briefly told you about Ellie's history with the Fireflies the night before, that Ellie was forced into slavery, but he failed to mention his own opinions about her.

"He's a good man. He's just got a lot going on lately," you said, hoping to leave it at that. Ellie eyed you curiously, but let it go, flopping down in a chair at an empty table, head swiveling around the room to check out all the people while you went to the bar to place an order with Seth. When you came back with your food, the dining room had grown more crowded, most of the tables already filled. Ellie's eyes lit up when you placed the tray of food down in front of her.

"Thanks! This place is so fucking cool," she said before digging into her food like it was her last meal.

"Yeah, we are really lucky," you agreed.

"Were you here when this place was built?" she asked you around a mouthful of food.

"Not at first," you said, then proceeded to tell her a bit of your own story. How you and Joel knew each other before the outbreak and you traveled across the country to try to find Tommy, never expecting to find him in the town you now called home. She nodded along eagerly, hanging on your every word and asking questions along the way. You chose to leave out a few parts to your story that a child shouldn't have to hear about, focusing more on how you both survived and depended on one another for safety, instead.

"Was he a dick before the outbreak, too?" she asked you after she had long finished up her dinner.

"Ellie!" you scolded her, but you smirked. "Actually... he was worse," you said, and you both dissolved into a fit of giggles.

"No, seriously, he's not that bad. He comes off like he's all tough, but deep down he's a softie," you said. "There's a whole other side to him that's just..." you trailed off, your eyes glued to the table as you thought about Joel.

"Just what?" she asked, urging you to continue.

"Just really good. He's loving, and sweet, and caring. He would do anything for this town, puts himself at risk all the time, expects nothing in return," you said, realizing you were rambling, but Ellie didn't seem to mind. "I'm really lucky to have him."

Ellie looked at you for a few moments, studying your face as you struggled to hide your feelings. Rehashing everything that you love about Joel just made you feel even worse, wishing for the millionth time that you weren't so selfish, that you could give him what he wanted.

"You guys have been through some shit, huh?" she said, and you looked back up at her. Very perceptive.

"Yeah," you said softly, and that was all she needed to hear.

"Alright, then," she said dramatically, standing up from the table. "I guess I could give him another chance. For you."

"How generous of you," you joked, standing up as well and leading her to the exit. "If history is any indicator, Joel tends to need a couple chances before people start to like him."

You both laughed as you headed back down the street, the sun beginning to dip lower behind the houses. Ellie was in the middle of telling you about a comic book she was reading, enthusiastically acting out her favorite parts of the story, when you finally made it back home.

"Okay, kid. You should probably get home. It's close to your bedtime," you teased, and she scoffed at your joke, rolling her eyes.

"Fine, I guess I'll have to pick up where I left off tomorrow," she said, begrudgingly heading across the street to Julia's house.

And that was exactly what she did. You had been in the greenhouse for all of ten minutes before the door swung open and Ellie burst in, this time with her comic book in hand so she could read it out loud to you while you worked.

The entire second day Joel was gone, you spent with Ellie. You told her odd pieces of information about Jackson, she would read or quietly draw your plants on some crumpled loose leaf paper she had stuffed in her backpack, never really giving away much information about her own history. But you didn't mind. You knew if she ever wanted to share, she would do it in her own time. You just wondered how much time the two of you would have left.

Joel arrived back in Jackson early on the third day. You were surprised to hear your front door open as you were making yourself a quick breakfast in the kitchen.

"Hey, you're up early," you called over your shoulder. "Are you hungry?"

"Already ate," Joel's deep voice rumbled somewhere behind you, and you spun around in surprise.

"You're back," you said, trying to get your bearings.

"Who'd you think it was?" he asked, dropping his backpack on top of the kitchen table.

"Ellie," you said, turning back to the stove to shuffle your eggs around in the pan.

"The kid?" he asked you, and you nodded.

"Yeah, she's been keeping me company the past couple days. She's really funny and smart," you said, turning the stove off and sliding your food onto a plate. You walked over to him, taking in his dirty clothes and face. Setting your plate down on the table, you took a step closer and hooked a finger into one of his beltloops. It wasn't lost on you that he neglected to greet you in his normal fashion. Accustomed to him wrapping you in his arms and pulling you in for a searing kiss, minimally.

"How'd it go?" you asked quietly, staring up at him, trying to read his face.

"Good," he said gruffly, seemingly unphased by your hand so close to his belt. "Got the guns. Tommy's gonna organize another trip back to the Fireflies to drop 'em off, tell 'em the kid ran off, and hope they let us keep the meds."

"Does that mean you're leaving again?" you asked, trying to keep the disappointment from your voice.

"No, he's gonna send some other guys. Said we earned a break," he said. His hands that would normally be all over you were shoved deep in his pockets.

"That's good, you need to relax," you said, bringing another finger up to hook into a beltloop. You pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to reach up and give him a soft kiss, one which he returned, but didn't deepen.

"You gotta get to work?" he mumbled, tipping his chin down to break the kiss. You shook your head.

"Day off," you whispered, trying to sound suggestive. "I can help you relax, if you want," you added. You felt nervous, your heart thumping loudly in your chest, not sure what he was thinking and afraid of being shot down.

He finally dragged his gaze back to you, and you swore you saw a familiar glint of lust flash across his dark eyes. You held your breath, waiting for him to say something, anything, to make you feel less exposed.

"Maybe later. I gotta clean up," he said. You deflated a bit, but noticed he hadn't attempted to move away, so you tried again.

"I don't mind. I like it when you're dirty," you said, sinking your teeth into your lower lip, and that seemed to do the trick. His nostrils flared and he took a deep breath, his eyes falling to your lips. And finally, he dragged his hands out of his pockets to reach down and cup your ass, pulling you against him roughly with a grunt. You gasped when you felt the hard outline of his cock pressed against your stomach, then hungrily covered his mouth with yours, your tongue swirling around his as your hands left his belt to grip the dark curls at the base of his neck.

"Missed you," he mumbled against your mouth before greedily making his way to your neck, his fingertips digging into the plumpness of your ass.

"Me, too," you whispered, closing your eyes and tipping your head to the side, giving him better access.

"Ew, gross," you heard Ellie say, startling you both. You jumped away but Joel strategically stayed behind you, adjusting himself when Ellie wasn't looking.

"Whaddya want?" Joel asked roughly with a frown. Ellie plopped herself down in front of your abandoned plate of eggs and took a forkful before screwing her face up into a grimace.

"These are cold," she said, but continued to shovel more in her mouth, anyway.

"Good morning to you, too," you said to her before walking back over to the stove, heating up the pan to make more food.

"Morning," Ellie replied, mouth full of eggs.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you to chew with your mouth closed?" Joel asked her, arms crossed over his chest. "Or to knock before bargin' into stranger's homes?"

"Nope," Ellie said with a smirk, and let her jaw fall open so Joel could see even more of her partially digested food. He made a face and rolled his eyes.

"Lovely," he said sarcastically, looking away.

"Besides, she's not a stranger," Ellie said, nodding in your direction. You smiled to yourself, your back to the pair of them, pleased that the girl found a friend in you after all she had been through.

Joel sighed and dropped his arms to his sides as he headed towards the stairs.

"I'm gonna go wash up, then we gotta meet Tommy and Maria at the town hall," he told you. You frowned, turning away from your eggs.

"What for?"

"Informal council meeting. To figure out how to get this one out of here," Joel replied, shooting a look at Ellie. Her chewing paused as she looked back and forth between you and Joel.

"Oh. Right," you said with a nod as he headed up the stairs, the bedroom door shutting behind him.

"You're on the town council?" Ellie asked, and you shrugged, turning the burner off for the second time and sliding your eggs onto a new plate.

"Guess I am now," you said, and joined her at the table. You both chewed thoughtfully while you heard the shower turn on upstairs, right above your heads.

"What if I wanted to stay?" she asked you quietly, staring down at her eggs.

"I don't know, Ellie," you said with a sigh. You had a feeling this was coming.

"Can you try to convince them?" she asked you earnestly, looking up at you now. "If you're on the council, maybe you can tell them to let me stay."

You chewed on your lip, trying to figure out how to handle the delicate situation.

"It's complicated," you said. "They are lying to those people to protect you. If the Fireflies ever found out, it could be really bad."

She nodded solemnly and looked back down at her plate briefly before shoving it away and standing up.

"I should go," she said, avoiding your gaze as she headed toward the door. You stood up to follow her.

"I'm sorry, Ellie," you said, and you really were. You didn't want to tell her that you wanted her to stay just as badly, that you didn't have any power to make that wish come true, that you were just another adult who failed her.

"It's fine, I'm used to it," she said over her shoulder as she swung the door open. "Thanks for breakfast," she added, jogging lightly down the steps and shoving her hands in her pockets as she headed back across the street.

You sat quietly at the conference table while Tommy went over the plan to return Ellie to her family. Someone must have asked her where she was from, because Tommy had a map spread out on the table with Phoenix, Arizona circled in red marker, his fingertip gently tracing up the map slowly until he found Jackson.

"Probably take a week to get there. Week to get back," he said, straightening up to look at the group. Besides you and Joel, Maria was also there, along with Bill, the town doctor, Eugene, and Claire, a high school teacher. "Figure it shouldn't take many people, I don't want to leave this place defenseless just in case this blows back on us."

"Who is going to take her, Tommy?" Claire asked, her glasses sliding down her nose as she leaned forward on the table.

"Me and Maria volunteer. I'll see if Jake's up for another trip, and maybe one more," he said, avoiding eye contact with Joel. You shifted in your seat, about to open your mouth to volunteer when Joel's head whipped towards you, shooting you a glare that said don't even think about it.

"I'll do it," Eugene said.

"I'll need another group to take the guns to the Fireflies, was kind of hopin' you might take the lead since you know 'em," Tommy replied, and the older man nodded.

"Wherever you need me," he said.

"I'll go with Eugene to take the guns," Joel offered, and you stiffened in your seat.

"Alright, maybe Jesse'll go with you and that should be enough. I oughta warn 'em we're comin'. I'll radio over later today, see if I can get ahold of Marlene, tell her the story," Tommy mumbled, jotting down a note for himself as he spoke. "I'll ask Carl to come with us to take Ellie."

You cleared your throat, drawing the table's attention.

"What if she stayed?" you asked, and Tommy paused for a moment, glancing at Joel before looking back at you. "What? Is it that absurd? She said she wants to stay, and that way we aren't risking the lives of four people to get her to Arizona safely."

"No, we would be riskin' the lives of the whole town if she stayed," Joel countered. "If those Fireflies ever find out we lied, we're fucked."

"He's right, darlin', I'm sorry," Tommy said. Maria cast you a sympathetic glance and you sighed.

At least you could say you tried.

They had agreed to disband each group in a couple days, allowing everyone a chance to rest up, as well as give Tommy an opportunity to touch base with the Fireflies over the radio.

Joel gripped your elbow once you were both far enough away from everyone as you made your way home, pulling you closer.

"You weren't about to volunteer to take that kid, were you? Tell me I'm crazy for thinkin' that," he muttered lowly next to you.

"I didn't volunteer, did I?" you shot back, not exactly answering the question, and he knew it, but he still released your arm. "Besides, you volunteered to take those guns to the Fireflies, when you just told me you weren't going. Like that isn't even more dangerous? What if they see right through this lie and do something?"

"That's different and y'know it," he said, and you scoffed.

"Right, because it's you," you replied, rolling your eyes.

"No, 'cause this needs to get done, and it needs to get done right. And I ain't riskin' my neck takin' that kid back to her family," he said, jaw clenching. "Neither of us are riskin' it. It was a mistake to bring her here in the first place."

You opened your mouth to argue back, but decided against it. He got what he wanted anyway: you were staying home. That aside, you could tell your relationship was still in a fragile state, and you weren't interested in making it any worse.

The next morning, you arrived at the greenhouse, leaving Joel behind in bed at home. He would typically walk you to work, but you wanted to make sure he got as much rest as possible before yet another journey outside the walls of Jackson. You were still disappointed that he volunteered for the task, especially after he told you he would stay home, and the insecure part of you wondered if he was trying to stay busy as a way of avoiding you.

It wasn't until closer to lunchtime that Ellie finally joined you at the greenhouse, much to your relief since you had become used to her being around to keep you company.

"Hey kid, where have you been all morning?" you asked her when she came in with no more than a silent nod in your direction as a greeting.

"Maria came by," she said, and you noticed right away her voice sounded distant. You stopped what you were doing so you could give her your full attention.

"She said I'm leaving in a few days, wanted specifics on where my aunt and uncle lived," she continued, and you nodded along, wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand. She was avoiding eye contact, focused entirely on her open backpack and rifling through her meager possessions.

"I'm sorry, Ellie. I did try, you know, in the meeting. But it wasn't up for debate," you told her. She nodded in acknowledgement, still keeping her eyes cast down.

"I get it. I know there's some people who really don't want me here," she said, choosing not to name names, but you knew who she meant. "But at least we still have a week."

She must have noticed your silence because she finally glanced up at you.

"Maria said it will take a week to get me there. You are going, right?" she asked. Your face must have given you away because she clenched her jaw and shook her head. "Are you fucking kidding me, man?"

"Ellie-"

"You have to come with me!" she pleaded now, her eyes wide. "Please!"

"I can't, I'm so sorry," you said, your heart breaking at the expression on her face. She stomped angrily across the room, tears welling up in her eyes as she gave you a firm shove, making you stumble back in surprise.

"Not fucking cool," she said, giving you another shove, nostrils flared. And then another. And another, until you were up against the wall and couldn't move backwards any further. Two tears fell down her cheeks and her fists were raised to pound on your chest out of frustration, but you quickly wrapped your arms around her instead and pulled her in close for a hug, tears blurring your vision.

"I'm sorry," you repeated over and over as you held her in your arms, gently swaying back and forth as she cried silently against your chest.

"I need to tell you something," she said, pulling away and wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "But you need to promise not to tell anyone."

"What-"

"Promise me!" she yelled, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks as she stared at you with a fire in her eyes.

"I promise," you told her. She looked at you for another minute, as if she were deciding whether or not to really tell you. She sighed, glancing back at the closed door once before pulling up the sleeve of her shirt.

You raced down the street, sweat collecting at the base of your neck and hairline, as you bobbed and weaved your way to Maria's house, hoping Tommy would be there. You could hardly think straight, the past thirty minutes completely sending you off the deep end. She's immune, she's immune, she's fucking immune.

Knocking erratically on the front door, you struggled to catch your breath, wiping the sweat away as best you could with your other hand while you waited impatiently for an answer. Just as you were about to start knocking again, the door swung open and Maria stood on the other side, giving you a confused look.

"Is Tommy here?" you gasped, and she nodded, her eyes widening at your demeanor and ushered you inside.

"Are you okay?" she asked you, and you nodded, glancing in the living room to find it empty before you headed to the kitchen. You stopped cold when you saw Joel was there with his brother seated at the table, two maps spread out in front of them. They both looked up when you entered the room, and Joel stood from his chair immediately, coming over to you with a look of concern.

"What's wrong?" he asked you, taking you by the shoulders to give you a once over, but you stepped aside so you could address Tommy behind him.

"I'm coming with you to take Ellie back to her family," you told him.

"Like hell you are!" Joel roared, dropping his hands from your shoulders, but you ignored him. Tommy sighed, looking back and forth between you and Joel, before standing up from his chair.

"Darlin'-"

"No, Tommy. I'm going. You said yourself you needed a fourth person."

"You ain't goin' anywhere," Joel said, narrowing his eyes. You finally caved and met his gaze. "We talked about this," he added.

"Things change," you said, and he bristled at your response.

"What changed?" Tommy asked calmly, and you turned your attention back to him.

"She's scared. She wants someone she trusts to go with her," you said, only half lying.

Tommy and Maria exchanged glances. You waited for a response while Joel seethed next to you, staring daggers at his brother.

"Tommy, she ain't-"

"We need a fourth, Joel," he said, cutting him off.

"Find someone else!" he yelled, running his fingers through his hair.

"I can do it, I can handle myself," you assured Tommy, ignoring Joel's reaction once again, knowing you only had to convince one person. "You know I can handle myself."

Tommy gave his brother a pained look before looking back at you.

"Alright," Tommy said, and you breathed a sigh of relief. "I'll keep her safe, Joel," Tommy promised, daring to look at Joel, who was brimming with so much anger, his face looked flush.

You glanced at Joel, his jaw clenched so tightly you wondered if he was cracking his molars. His gaze bounced between you and Tommy, not sure who to channel his rage toward.

"Joel, it will be fine. Sit down, you're going to give yourself a heart attack," you said, trying to smooth things over, but it was no use.

"Fuckin' hell," he grumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Guess I'm goin', too."

"That's fine, I'll shift some guys around, send Jake with Eugene," Tommy agreed with a nod. Joel just stared at the ground, taking deep breaths, trying to control his temper.

"Thank you," you whispered to Joel, reaching a hand out to place on his shoulder, but he stepped away.

"Thought you didn't want kids, why don't you make up your damn mind," he snapped, and it felt like he punched you in the gut. He turned on his heel towards the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Your eyes filled with tears and your face flushed with embarrassment as Tommy and Maria glanced awkwardly at one another. Maria stepped forward and wrapped an arm around your shoulders so she could lead you into the living room.

"You wanna talk about it?" she asked you, handing you a tissue. You shook your head and dabbed your eyes.

"Not right now," you said quietly. "Thank you. I'm sorry I put you in that position, I didn't know he was here," you said, addressing Tommy, who was leaning against the doorway, watching you both.

"It's alright, he'll get over it, I know how to handle my own brother," he said with a smirk. You chuckled and wiped your nose before taking a deep breath.

"I should probably go," you said, trying to force a smile. Maria walked you to the door and reminded you quietly that she was there if you wanted to talk. You gave her a quick hug and thanked them both before heading back down the street towards home, hoping Joel had a chance to cool down and come to his senses.

If Ellie was immune, you needed to make sure she got in the right hands, to have a chance to explain to her remaining family the gift she was given, and if you were the only person she could trust to confide in, then so be it. You wanted to tell Joel the truth, but you made her a promise, and you weren't going to let her down again.

Tag List @nana90azevedo @ninaminaromina @untamedheart81 @taz-97 @nastiasnow @amyispxnk @plz-be-solo @iloveramensm @caitlynsixxx @anoverwhelmingdin @harriedandharassed @jessthebaker @txtattoostark - if your name is crossed off, it won't let me tag you. lmk if I missed anyone

[agaypanic]

Mike Schmidt 😍 can u write reverse comfort? Like reader comforting him over his troubled past 💀

Give You My Shoulder (Mike Schmidt X Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: It’s not uncommon for Mike to have a nightmare, mainly from reliving the trauma of his brother being taken. Luckily, he doesn’t sleep alone anymore.

***

When you moved in with Mike and Abby after a year or so of dating, they were both ecstatic. Abby loved you; you were by far her favorite babysitter. And Mike was finally able to spend more time with you beyond seeing each other for a few minutes during lunch breaks and before you left the house after babysitting. Now that you lived with them, he could come home without having to deal with the sadness of you leaving.

But the nights took him a while to get used to. He, of course, loved being able to hold you and be near you while you two slept. But Mike had become so used to reliving the past when he was dreaming, usually waking up frustrated and scared when he realized he was once again unable to save his little brother. 

You knew about all of this: the dreams, losing his brother, his traumatic life. You always did your best to comfort him, but you could only do so much.

When you moved in, he did his best to stop going through his memories. He kept the sleeping pills and nature sounds tape in his nightstand drawer. He’d wrap you in his arms and fall asleep to the feeling of your nails dragging through his scalp, listening to your breathing.

But old habits die hard.

You and Abby were dead asleep in your rooms when Mike came home. He had gotten home late at night after work, completely exhausted. He couldn’t wait to sink into his mattress beside you.

He tried for about an hour, laying in every different position and squeezing his eyes shut. But it was no use. Despite being tired, he couldn’t fall asleep.

Mike turned to lay on his back, sighing in frustration. And that’s when he saw it.

The Nebraska poster.

He looked over at you, watching your peaceful sleeping form. It couldn’t hurt to just do it one time.

As quietly as possible, Mike opened his nightstand drawer and took out his bottle of pills and tape player. He sat up and took one of the pills before playing the tape. He took a deep breath as the sounds of nature filled the room, letting it overtake him. Mike laid back down and looked up at the Nebraska poster, gently grabbing your hand as he waited for the moment he would drift off, back to Garrett and his family.

Before he knew it, he was back at the camping grounds, a kid again. Garrett ran around with his toy plane, and Mike and his parents smiled at the sight. Mike went through the memory like he always did, filled with nostalgic joy as if he didn’t know what was gonna happen next.

And then it happened.

Mike ran, yelling for Garrett as his brother waved at him from the backseat of the car that drove off. He tried looking for new details: a face, a definite clue, anything. But when he looked around, the woods became empty. The only living things were him and the trees.

His name was faintly called out, catching him off guard. This was something new, which should have excited him. It should’ve given Mike hope that this new thing would lead him to his brother. But instead, he freaked out even more, wondering where the voice was coming from and why it was the only thing he could hear.

“Mike!” 

The man jolted awake, gasping in surprise as he frantically looked around. He was back in his bedroom, with you looking at him in concern and talking softly.

“Mike, honey, you’re okay.” You whispered to him, squeezing his shoulders to try to get his attention. “You’re okay. What happened?”

Mike slowed his breathing, trying to calm down. He felt ashamed that you were seeing him like this, yet all you did was look at him with love and a listening ear.

“I tried to find him…” He said sadly, and you immediately knew what he meant. You bundled Mike up in your arms, allowing the few tears that he let slip to fall on your shoulder. “I was supposed to look after him.”

“It’s not your fault.” You whispered, wishing you could take away the guilt that constantly weighed on Mike.

“I could’ve saved him.”

“Just because you couldn’t doesn’t mean you didn’t try, Mike.” You tried to look at him as best as you could, with his head being in the crook of your neck. “I can’t even begin to imagine how it must feel to live what you’ve lived through. You’ve been through things that no one deserves. I know you couldn’t save Garrett, and that it probably eats away at you all the time.” You petted Mike’s hair, which was slightly damp from his sweat. But you couldn’t care less. “But I think you’ve been given a second chance.”

“What do you mean?” Mike asked, picking his head up from your shoulder but still leaning into you.

“You have Abby. I know she’ll never replace your brother, but I don’t think he’d want you living in the past trying to find him again… Healing from what you’ve been through won’t be linear, and there might always be a part of you that’s hurting.” You rubbed Mike’s back, feeling his body slowly relax against yours. “But you could honor Garrett and his life by doing the things you never got to do with him with Abby.”

Mike was silent, taking in your words. You worried that maybe you overstepped, or said something wrong.

But then Mike squeezed your hand. He nodded slowly before giving you a quick but gentle peck on the lips, as if to say thank you. He laid back down, urging you to do the same.

“I love you.” He said softly while looking at you, eyes still glassy from his tears. You wiped the ones that had fallen off of his cheeks.

“I love you too, Mikey.”

[bad268]

hey! hope you are well. I was thinking of an idea for a Kimi Antonelli x reader story and as you write for him the best I knew you would write it so well.

maybe reader is toto's daughter, and her and kimi are in a relationship. but y/n can't make it to the last race of the season but she ends up surprising him after the race (she was there the whole time) and he runs to her and its all adorable and everyone is clapping?

just a thought!

love your work!

Couldn't Keep Me Away (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Wolff! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (I think I cooked too much with this lol...)

Warnings: sick! reader, mentions cough medicine

POV: Second Person (You/your/She/her)

W.C. 1956

Summary: She's never missed a race…until now?

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(@/Kimi’s insta from February 13, 2024)

It all came down to this. Not in the literal sense, more along the lines of it was the last race of the season. The team’s champions and driver’s championship had already been decided, so there was nothing to lose in this race. Well, except his sanity.

You had been at every race this season. Not because of your father, Toto Wolff. Actually, maybe that played a part, but you were always in the Prema garage. He could not remember what it was like to not have you in the garage between practice and qualifying or during pre-race shenanigans. 

When you were not on track for media day, he knew something was up. Yes, he knew you hated media day because it was boring, but it was also the day you had the most time together since the F1 teams and drivers were more popular interviewees. He tried texting and calling you only to receive nothing in response. He knew what he was going to have to do.

Speak to your father. 

He decided to stop by before the sprint race. Walking into the Mercedes garage, he spotted your father immediately and standing beside him, your mother, Susie, and brother, Jack. He suddenly knew that you should have been here too. The only reason you gave him in the past for why you may need to miss a race was to watch your brother. You never did miss a race, but there was always the possibility.

He swallowed his concern, not needing to worry yet, as he walked up to your family. He waited for them to finish their conversation before he tapped on Toto’s shoulder. Immediately, Toto turned around to meet Kimi’s worried eyes.

“Kimi, is there something wrong?” Toto asked, sensing Kimi’s anxiousness, but chalking it up to the upcoming race. “Is it the race?”

“No…I mean, kind of?” Kimi answered but immediately contradicted himself. It was much more different talking to Toto about you than about racing. Despite knowing that both of your parents are aware of your relationship, he tried his best to only talk to Toto about racing whenever they were on the track. This was a first for Kimi, and he just did not know how he wanted to go about asking. Finally, after receiving multiple uneasy looks from Susie and Toto, Kimi took a deep breath before just deciding to go for it. “Do you know where she is? She’s not answering my texts or calls, and I’m getting worried.”

“Oh, Kimi, she’s sick,” Susie jumped in. She knew exactly who he wanted to know about, so she showed him a text from you that said you took some medicine and would try to sleep it off. “She’s been sick almost all week. I thought she told you.”

“Oh, have she sent any updates recently? Do you know how she’s feeling?” Kimi rushed. Looking back, he realized that every time he texted you, it would have been late back at home, so it made sense that you did not respond. Plus, to add the sickness on top of it? He felt like shit for not catching it earlier.

“That was the last text I received,” Susie said, sadly. Toto stepped away as he got a call, leaving Kimi and Susie to talk while Jack was distracted by Mick. “It was sent a few hours ago, so she might be awake now. You could call her?”

“No need,” Toto said as he walked back over, holding out the phone to Kimi. “Someone wants to talk to you.”

Hesitantly, Kimi took the phone and saw your name as the caller ID. He looked back up at Toto and Susie as they turned their backs to him and walked toward the pit wall to give him a little privacy. Immediately, Kimi raised the phone to his ear, “Amore (love)? How are you feeling? I heard you were sick. Are you staying hydrated?”

He gets cut off hearing you giggle lightly before descending into a light coughing fit. He smiled lightly for a second before growing concerned once again when he heard you cough. “Slow down, liebe (love). I am feeling better, just a few coughs here and there.”

“That didn’t sound like ‘a few coughs here and there,’” He mocked lightheartedly but in all seriousness. 

“That’s because you triggered it,” you laughed again. This time, able to hold back the coughs, just needing to clear your throat before you talk again. “I promise, I’m doing better. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“As long as you’re feeling better,” He sighed, knowing you’re alright now. Off to the side, he sees his race engineer looking for him, so he realizes that he needs to wrap up the call with you to race. “Keep resting, amore. I have to go race now, but I’ll call you after, I promise.”

“I’ll be watching, liebe,” you smiled to yourself, and Kimi could hear it too. “Good luck, Kimi. Give the phone back to my dad, please?”

With that, he walked up to Toto again to hand him the phone before disappearing with his engineer. Toto raised the phone, chuckling lightly at Kimi’s rush as he greeted his daughter. 

“Can I be on the first flight out? I feel better.”

~~

Kimi had a horrible sprint race. He was already starting in 10th because he was on pole for the feature race, but he became collateral damage in a fight between a couple of cars further back. It was the last lap too! They were all outside the points, so there really was no point in racing that hard. However, that’s what happened. 

He did his best to hide his disappointment as he walked past the engineers to the driver’s room he shared with Ollie, who was already there because of a tire blowout from one of the earlier laps. Kimi started changing out of his race suit and into his normal clothes, just wanting to sleep the race off. 

“Your phone went off a few minutes ago,” Ollie said, breaking the silence and catching Kimi’s attention as he threw a Mercedes shirt over his head. “And don’t blame yourself. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Plus, it’s not like this race mattered. You already won the championship, we won the team championship, and you have a seat for next year.”

“Thanks, Ollie, but that’s not the point,” Was he lying? Partly, but there was some truth. He was upset at the race result, but he was also still slightly bummed that you were not there. Thinking of you, he wanted to call you.

Kimi looked through his bag for his phone, finding it with no problems. He noticed the number of notifications, but the only one that mattered to him was the one from you. It was a few minutes prior and it read, “I’m so sorry liebe! That crash was nasty, I hope you’re okay. I just took more medicine, so I might be asleep by the time you finish post-race media. I’ll call you when I wake up. Ich liebe dich (I love you).”

He sent a quick response, telling you he was alright and he loved you. Then, he went about the rest of his day. And the rest of his night. And the next morning. At that point, he started getting nervous again since you were not responding again. What kind of medicine were you taking that knocked you out for 12 hours, he thought. 

He wanted to go back to your parents again, but the feature race prep was different compared to the sprint. He did not have the same break he did with the sprint. Ever since he got to the track, he was warming up and prepping for the final race. He was nervous given the result the day before. He did not want to end the season on a double DNF, especially when he was going to get an F1 seat the following season in a Mercedes. He had to score well in the race.

If he had found a way to get to the Mercedes garage, he would have seen you sitting with your brother while your parents had a last-minute meeting. And if Kimi had been in any other starting position, he would have seen you walk into the Prema garage with Jack. Pole position was different though because they needed to do more interviews and promo pictures. If Kimi could have seen around his car from his grid box, he would have seen you sitting on the pit wall.

The race started without a hitch, Kimi was back in his groove, and it was clear to see that he was confident in his moves again. Sure, he was not fighting anyone for position, but there were a couple of times when he had to defend. He did so perfectly, and it made people wonder if the sprint race was just a one-off day for him. It was all worth it when he crossed the finish line first again.

The team immediately ran to Parc Ferme to wait for the cars as they scored a Prema 1-2. Kimi pulled into the first spot, Ollie into the second, and Victor in the third. Ollie and Victor jumped out of their cars immediately, running to their teams, but Kimi took a minute. This win should have felt good, especially after the disaster that was the sprint race, but it didn’t.

It was fun to win, but he was going to have to jump out of the car and celebrate with his team. Just his team. This is the first race you were not going to be there celebrating with him, and he would rather delay the inevitable. 

You could feel his hesitance to get out of the car, so you handed Jack over to your parents as you pulled up your mask and pushed through the people to get to the gate. You got there relatively easily considering you went through the Prema team, and they knew you would be the first person he’d want to see.

Kimi finally climbed out and stood on top of his car, posing for the camera momentarily. Then, his attention shifted to his team, and he froze. You were there! He’d recognize those eyes anywhere! Of course, you made it. He jumped off of the car and flung himself over the barrier to wrap you in his arms.

“You made it. I can’t believe you made it,” He whispered over and over, not even bothering to question if you could hear him through his helmet. That’s when he remembered, so he pulled back to take his helmet and balaclava off as well as his gloves. He put the back of his hand against your forehead to check your temperature, causing you to laugh. “Don’t laugh at me! I’m seeing if you’ve got a fever.”

“I’m all good, my fever broke yesterday,” You consoled as you pulled his hand off of your forehead to hold it as you kissed his cheek through your mask. “I’m all good. The mask is just a precaution.”

“Screw precaution, I wanna kiss you,” Kimi whined as he pulled the mask down to give you a long kiss. Despite not actually hearing it, the team all started clapping and F1 TV definitely got a good shot of you two. When he pulled away, he put the mask back on for you as he leaned his head against yours. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

“You couldn’t keep me away even if you tried,” You whispered back, leaning up to bump your nose against his, “I’ll always find a way to be here for you.”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[goblinontour]

To The First Girl Who Lit Him A Flame (Part 2)

alex returns the favour with your help

warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), it gets sticky, nothing crazy there’s quite a lot of fluff too

word count: 4.2k

your head was pounding by the time you got home, who would’ve thought the night would end up with you sucking off alex turner in the bathroom? you were smiling to yourself thinking back to it as you threw yourself on the soft bed in your room. your eyes were closing and as you were about to fall asleep your phone chimed and all the tiredness dissipated when you saw it was alex texting you.

you two made sure to exchange phone numbers by the time you had to go home, and even though it was already late you ended up texting till the morning, both equally excited for later that day.

you said your ‘good nights’ somewhere around 6am and you immediately fell asleep.

things couldn’t be more different for alex on the other hand. he was lying in his bed with his arms crossed behind his head and he kept staring at the ceiling, overthinking and already panicking. why did he invite you over? well, because he liked you of course, but he didn’t know how any of this worked, didn’t know what he was supposed to do. he thought about telling one of the guys and asking for some advice but they weren’t any better, they were still virgins as well and didn’t have any experience with girls, as far as he knew.

he was about to embarrass himself in front of the girl he liked and ruin all of his chances of this going anywhere, he thought. at some point he rolled over and straight up screamed into his pillow. this was happening regardless, no way to back out now. it wasn’t like he didn’t want it, he was just stressing out. and so he forced himself to at least get a couple of hours of sleep so he wouldn’t be completely knackered by the time you came around.

when he woke up he popped out to the store to get some snacks and drinks or whatever. on his way back home though he passed a pharmacy and stopped in his way. should he buy condoms? would he need them? how far did you think tonight would go? was he ready for that? he decided to get some just in case, better prepared than not.

he started pacing around the house, stressing once more, but he busied himself by cleaning up and tidying his room so it would look nice. he was snapped out of his little bubble by one of your texts.

“you never gave me your address al”

“yeah sorry i forgot i guess, but don’t worry about it, i’m picking you up, you live near royal on columbia right?”

“yes xx see you there?”

“definitely, 5?

“perfect”

by picking you up he meant see you there and walk together to his house. he didn’t have a car yet, still shared it with his mum and his parents were away with it.

he just waited for the time to pass, had a shower and tried to make himself look as good as possible.

in the meantime, you were bursting with excitement. you didn’t think you’d ever end up going to his house and for that reason out of everything, but you liked him, he was really nice and sweet and you didn’t see how anything could go bad. you did your makeup and all that and decided to wear your matching black lingerie set for him, to make it all the more special. you popped on a little miniskirt and sweater number, it was still quite cold and you wanted to be comfy at the same time.

it was about 10 to 5 when you spotted him outside. he was pacing on the spot, hoping he was in the right place. so you didn’t leave him waiting for any longer, grabbed your bag and went to meet him.

you grabbed him by the shoulders from behind but he was wearing his earphones so he didn’t hear you coming up behind him and you scared the shit out of his already hyper self, making him jump.

“sorry alex didn’t mean to scare ya”

“it’s alright” he giggled while wrapping the wires around his phone and stuffing them in his pocket “you look really nice y/n. very pretty indeed” that last part wasn’t supposed to be said out loud, it was more him thinking to himself but the words came out anyway.

“thank you” you murmured, hugging his side and squeezing his waist a tiny bit as you two started walking to his.

it didn’t take that long, he lived just a few blocks away and you were too into the conversation to even notice how time slipped and you were already at his front door.

“make yourself at home” he told you, but he felt anxious again “what are we uhm…what do you wanna do?”

“why don’t we just watch a film for now?” you suggested, thinking it would be easier to just hang out and get him more relaxed first.

“drink?”

“yes please, thank youuu” getting louder towards the end for him to hear you as he was walking towards the kitchen behind you.

he stayed in there for quite a while, you were starting to get a bit worried honestly. you went in to check on him and he was just standing there, leaning over the edge of the counter holding it by the edge and staring at the drinks in front of him.

“you alright al?” he didn’t say anything so you messed with the hair at the back of his head “hey”

“yeah i’m fine just…popcorn?” he was panicking.

“yes” you agreed, kissing him on the cheek. he couldn’t help but smile and he got all blushy, but you let him do his thing, staying close by.

when he raised his arms to get the bowl and everything else from the cupboard his fitted long sleeve climbed up as well, exposing his waist and his hips where his jeans didn’t quite cover his underwear, leaving the waistband visible. you bit your lip thinking about how you’d get to touch that later.

the two of you settled on the sofa and fought over what movie to put on until you came to an agreement. he was sitting close to you, but not close enough, and he didn’t know how or when to initiate anything so you took the first step and cuddled up closer to him, which encouraged him to wrap his arm around your shoulder, followed by you resting your head in the crook of his neck. in his mind he was going crazy and he hoped you couldn’t feel his heart beating to the point he felt it was going to burst out from his chest. of course you did, but you weren’t going to mention it.

you just couldn’t wait any longer. feeling him so close, right there within your reach, you couldn’t help yourself. you pressed a kiss to his neck, immediately feeling him tense up as he straightened his back. but as you kept leaving little kisses to his soft skin he started to melt into you, and even though you could hardly hear it due to how quiet it was, you felt a moan vibrating in his throat against your lips. He turned slightly to face you better, and he looked at you for a few seconds before asking

“can i kiss you?”

“how could i say no silly?” you replied, forcing yourself to not just grab him already, leaving him to do it. and he did, he leaned down and your lips were together again, and it was just as perfect as it had been that first time. your hands quickly found their way into his hair, making a mess of it, again, pulling on some pieces to get him to make all those pretty sounds that were like music to your ears. he got some more confidence and nudged you to get on his lap, and you happily complied, moving to sit on him. you pulled his head back by his hair to expose that big neck with so much space, just ready to be adorned with marks. although it took all the strength he had in him, he pulled you away.

“i said i would return the favour, let me.”

he followed in your steps, doing just as you had been doing to him, kissing your neck, leaving little bites all the way from behind your ear, down to your collarbone, holding the neck of your sweater pulled down with one of his fingers, so he could have proper access. you were so turned on, like you’ve never ever been in your life. you couldn’t quite put your finger on what it was exactly, he wasn’t giving you anything you haven’t received before. maybe it was just him.

“wanna take it to your room then?”

“yes…mhmmm” he trailed off, mumbling something else you couldn’t make out, his face was still buried between your sweater and your neck, getting covered by your hair falling over it. he picked you up as his lips connected back to yours and started walking backwards to the staircase. he wasn’t quite so shy anymore, his hands finding their place on your ass, grabbing at it and going under your skirt, touching you directly over your skin. you’d decided to not wear any tights, despite it being cool out, you knew they’d be painfully in the way of your activities.

the moment got cut off however when alex fell on his ass on the stairs, bringing you down with him, of course. you both burst out laughing and it was addicting, the way his whole face lit up and that little scrunch of his nose ugh.

it didn’t stop you for long. his lips found yours once more, picking you back up and getting you two, safely, to his room, where he laid you down on his bed and crawled over you, both adjusting more to the middle so you could sit comfortably. he kept kissing your neck, feeling your body carefully, stopping when his hand was almost touching your breast to ask “is this okay?”. you nodded, aching for him. you could feel the arousal pooling in between your legs already as he started kneading one of your breasts over your top, if you weren’t wearing black there’d for sure be a wet patch visible.

“please alex” you said in a breathy tone, the air feeling heavy around you from how worked up you got. “can i?” you asked, fingers hooking at the bottom of his shirt, pulling on it slightly to show him you wanted it off, now.

“yeah” with his approval, you didn’t waste anymore time, bringing the top over his head and taking a second to admire his bare torso. so delicate. “can i take yours off?”

“thought you would never ask” you joked “please.”

he took off your sweater, leaving you in just your bra and your skirt that’s been riding up, resting all bunched up at the top of your thighs. his eyes trailed over your body, flicking between both breasts, he couldn’t believe his luck, that this was happening and it was real. he started kissing you again, slowly going down your body, caressing the sides with his big hands, his fingers dragging across your skin making it break out in goosebumps and tingles.

“i need you, touch me, please” you were getting desperate, would start begging if he didn’t attend to you soon enough.

he didn’t stop in his way this time. he sneaked his hands under your waist to raise you up so he could pull down your skirt. he continued by placing kisses to the newly exposed skin, down the insides of your thighs, getting closer to where you needed him the most. he hovered over your clothed pussy for a second, his breaths hitting it, making your need for him grow, until he finally left a kiss over it, his nose accidentally nudging just the perfect spot.

“please alex”

“uh…okay, okay” he said nervously now that he would actually have to get on with it. he pulled down your panties and you pushed them off from where they bunched up at your ankles, landing somewhere on the floor but you paid no mind to it now, too focused on him. his breath hitched in his throat and his dick twitched in his pants when he laid his eyes on the sight in front of him. “just a second” he pleaded, getting up to take off his jeans that had his growing erection strained. he just couldn’t stand them anymore. you took that as your queue to also take off your bra, leaving you completely bare under his watch. he sat on his knees, in between your parted ones, inviting and begging him to touch you. he snaked his arm around one of your legs and rested his face against it. he was just stalling, not knowing how exactly to start, what he should do, and he didn’t want to embarrass himself.

“what should i, you know…could you guide me through it so it’s good for you?”

you brought your own hand in between your legs and started touching yourself, running your fingers through your lips, gathering some of the wetness and bringing it to your clit, stopping to give him some pointers.

“right here. see?” moaning quietly from how needy you felt, and to rile him up more.

“yeah” his response barely audible from how entranced he was while watching you touch yourself.

“alex” you called out, to get him to focus properly.

“mhm?”

“your turn now.”

“oh. uhm…okay, alright”

he lowered his hand where yours just was and he used two of his fingers to spread your pussy lips apart, exploring all of this carefully, as it was his first time ever experiencing it. he started by playing around with your clit, just like you showed him, and he got the hang of it, applying the perfect amount of pressure, slowly getting you there, the tension of it all making you hornier and you knew it wouldn’t take that long, even with his inexperience. you tried not to watch him too intensely, so he could relax, but those little glances you’d catch of him all focused were delightful.

he pleasantly surprised you when you noticed him scooting down on the bed so his mouth could reach your pussy, attaching his lips to your clit, where he previously played with his fingers, and you gasped as you felt his tongue poking out to lick it. he went lower to lap at all the wetness that kept pooling down there.

“you taste so good. fucking delightful” you couldn’t help but get a bit amused by his dirty talk, not that it was bad, you just weren’t used to it. the guy that wouldn’t risk getting too close to you on the sofa earlier was now complimenting how your pussy tasted. you could get used to it though.

your thoughts were interrupted when a loud moan, almost a cry, escaped your lips as you felt one of his fingers enter you, while he kept teasing your clit with his tongue. god his fingers were so long. You could feel every ridge of his knuckles as he pumped it in and out of your dripping cunt, so wet, just for him.

“more” and he obliged, instantly adding another finger and you already felt full, full of him.

“does that feel good?” he was enjoying it as well, by now he started subconsciously rutting his hips into the mattress, dying for some friction, anything to fix the aching hard on he had.

“yes, oh my god, how are you this good” you asked, more to yourself, not really expecting an answer, but this was all too good. maybe you were just too horny, but you didn’t think so. he was doing a really good job. and that was because while he kept going at it, he watched out for how your body responded to each one of his moves, keeping in mind what seemed to make you feel the best, like when he curled his fingers and you tightened your grip on the sheets, or when he touched your clit just right with his tongue and he could feel your thighs closing around his head.

you were so close, just needed a little bit more, so you started playing with your nipples, pinching them lightly, but he quickly noticed and took over one of them with his free hand, rolling it between his fingers just like he would do to himself when he was wanking, he loved how the double stimulation felt, and it was particularly pleasurable for him, so he thought the same would work for you. and it did. he kept hitting that perfect spot inside you, and his mouth. god. he switched between sucking that little sensitive bud between his lips and licking it and he found a delicious rhythm and position that made you bring your legs over his shoulders, wrapping around him and trapping him in there so he wouldn’t dare move, your hand flying to his hair, getting all tangled up, pushing him deeper into your heat. he was also moaning and making little whimper sounds. although muffled by his face being all up in your pussy, doing god’s work, you could feel them against your skin, the vibrations giving you all the more pleasure.

everything was just too much, you came apart beneath alex, saying his name over and over, mumbling praises for how amazing he was and how fucking good he was making you feel. it was one of the best orgarms you’d ever had, not even joking. no one had been able to make you cum like that, that good, except yourself, but that was different. was he sure he didn’t do this before because goddamn. you came all over his face and fingers until you pulled him away, becoming way too much. he pulled his fingers out and before he could do anything else you leaned over and grabbed him by the wrist, taking them in your mouth, cleaning them up, humming in pleasure as you tasted yourself and his jaw was on the floor as he was watching you. you did taste good, he wasn’t wrong. you then grabbed his jaw and pulled him into a kiss, pulling his body back up over yours and you felt him hard against you, his erection rubbing over the inside of your thighs through his tight boxers. you brought your hand down to feel him and he bit his lip to suppress the moan he was about to let out as you squeezed his hard cock.

“do you wanna, you know…?” you asked him.

“fuck” he let out as you kept touching him, the pressure feeling delicious.

“yeah, that” you giggled, you knew that wasn’t what he was trying to say by ‘fuck’, but once you realised how it came out right after your question, you couldn’t help yourself.

“no i meant-” you cut him off before he would start overexplaining and getting all stressed again.

“i know baby”

‘baby’, he liked how that sounded from you.

“i don’t think uhmm…if you don’t mind, i just, i don’t think i’m quite ready for that yet, if that’s okay? ‘m sorry”

“don’t apologise al, it’s more than okay, do you wanna maybe try something else, so you can…so we can fix this” squeezing him a bit tighter as you said that.

“like what?”

you flipped the pair of you over so you were on top of him now, sitting on top of his thighs.

“can i take these off?” referring to his underwear, your fingers toying with the waistband.

“mhm…yeah, yes.”

you pushed them down, not bothering to pull them all the way off, they wouldn’t be in the way. his cock was painfully hard, resting on top of his lower tummy now. you went to sit a bit higher up, your pussy rubbing over his length for a split second, making you shiver, still sensitive, as you positioned yourself over him. he was getting nervous as to what you were planning on doing. you rested your body over his, your chests pressing together. his hips automatically bucked up as you left a wet kiss to his neck, and his cock rubbed in between your bodies. and it felt so good. it wasn’t that far from actually fucking, but to him it was different, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it right now, he was still a bit scared. but this was good. you could hear him grunting quietly as he kept moving to get that friction.

“i was thinking of finishing you with my hand.” you said before nipping his earlobe with your teeth, making him moan louder now.

“mmno, this is…good, so good…”

“keep going baby, make yourself feel good”

this was something new to you, and it was so fucking hot. you weren’t getting much stimulation from this, if any, but that didn’t mean it didn’t bring you pleasure, seeing him under you, his face all scrunched and his eyes squeezed shut as he was desperately working to get his release. and also you being the reason he’s this worked up in the first place, eating you out making him get this weak.

you pushed more of your weight down on him, and to help him get there you started rolling your hips slightly, in sync with his moves.

the added pressure, and everything else, from your rocking over him, to the lingering touches and breaths on his neck, and your praises and encouragements, did the trick.

he stalled his movements and you could feel his warm release as he came in between your bodies, coating his belly and yours.

you rolled off from him when he was done so he could get some space to breathe, watching his blissed expression as he was panting and his chest was rising up and down rapidly. as soon as he came down from that lovely high he pulled you back to his side and kissed your temple, grabbing your waist to pull you closer but he winced as you accidentally touched his now soft cock with your leg.

“sorry”

“‘s all good” he assured you. one of his hands went to rest on his stomach but he was reminded of the dirty mess he made when he felt his sticky cum on his palm.

“we should clean up, i’ll just be a sec”

he got up and pulled his boxers back on, going to grab some wipes for the both of you. he insisted on cleaning you up as well, saying it’s his mess to clean. adorable. he gave you one of his tshirts and once you were all done he disappeared into the bathroom for a moment. the truth was he just needed a moment alone to freak out now. was this real? did that just happen? he was the happiest boy in the world in his mind, except for one thing. he hoped you wouldn’t blow him off completely because you didn’t fuck.

that wasn’t even a concern for you, it wouldn’t make you change your mind about him at all.

when he got back he had a shirt on as well, and a new pair of boxers. he jumped over you on the bed and hugged you close to him, peppering your face in the kisses you were now accustomed to, and you could get used to then happening more often, you were weak for him, completely whipped at this point. even though you’d only known each other for basically two days, you couldn’t think of just forgetting about this and pretending none of it happened.

“thank you” he hummed, his face now buried in the crook of your neck as he stayed on top of you like a little fluffy bear. “and ‘m sorry we didn’t, you know…”

“you don’t have anything to apologise for alex” you reassured, your hands playing with his hair. “that was honestly so fucking hot” making him laugh against you.

“okay”

you were happy that he agreed. and it wasn’t a lie just to get him to feel better. that was truly so hot to you and you didn’t mind it at all, he’d already given you a great orgasm. you guessed playing guitar does have its advantages, cause those fingers did a spectacular job for being his first time ever doing that to a girl.

you stayed like that for a while, cuddled up with him on top of you. he even fell asleep not short after you’d ended talking about that film you were watching earlier. the weight was comfortable. he was like a cat of some sorts, you could barely feel him but it was bringing you that comforting warm feel, his breathing like a kitten’s purring.

a/n: IT’S HEREEE, i really wasn’t expecting so many people to like the first one, i hope you’ll like this too, and i’m sorry they didn’t fuck for real but i had this in mind and i just needed to get it out there. it’s 5am as i’m posting, i tried to check it but the words started to look like a big blob from how long i’ve been staring at it, so i’m sorry if there are any mistakes. also i decided to keep the same title so it would be easier to find, in case i end up doing a part 3 if you really want it. AND if anyone cares, the title is a play off one of the lyrics from the song ‘From Me, the Moon’ by Lav (apple music / spotify)

tags: @4chaos @picturezonthewall @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @whitepontiac

[tatumrileyslover]

i absolutely adored your amber fic, I was hoping you could write a tara x reader (with an established relationship) where she’s the first to arrive to see her at the hospital arriving long before the others? maybe tara could have been texting her during the attack?

Solace

☆〜Pairings: Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

☆〜Genre: Hurt/Comfort, angst, slight fluff

☆〜Word Count: 5.7k

☆〜Warnings: mentions of pet death, ghost face attack, blood, stabbing, hospitals, violence, language

☆〜Authors Note: I did NOT intend for this fic to be almost 6k words long, I literally have work tomorrow and it’s four am. You Tara Carpenter hoes gonna love this one, also the sheer amount of words making my tumblr lag so much

☆〜 Sequel: Redemption

Laying spread out on her couch, (Y/n) sighed in contentment. Tonight, their long-awaited date finally materialized as a beacon of hope after countless cancellations. The first time was due to Tara catching a stomach virus, and the second was cancelled when (Y/n) had a family emergency. Praying to any deities she could think of, that tonight would go exactly as planned, Tara had procured the snacks and (Y/n) scoured her parent's old stash of movies to find something good to watch.

As the golden hues of the Californian sun gently descended, casting a warm glow that seeped through the curtains of the living room, (Y/n) gazed out the window. Outside, the autumnal symphony of colors unfolded, as leaves gracefully danced in the breeze, their descent creating a delicate tapestry upon the porch. " I should get going," she groaned to herself, not ready to leave the comfort of her home, but eager to see Tara nonetheless. They were two souls who found solace in each other's embrace, navigating the highs and lows with unwavering support. Their mothers said the two were like two puzzle pieces perfectly aligned, they fit together in seamless harmony. Where you'd find one, you'd find the other.

Moving swiftly toward the coffee table where her phone rested, (Y/n) snatched it up and eagerly turned it over, her eyes darting across the screen in anticipation. Amongst the sea of notifications, a particular text caught her eye, demanding her immediate attention.

Tara:

hey any way we can resched movie night? ambers planning to come over

(Y/n)’s heart plummeted as disappointment crashed over her like a relentless wave. Not again. This week had been filled with one hardship after another, and the movie night had been the single gleaming light that had kept her going. She felt the weight of her emotions welling up, threatening to spill over as tears pooled in her eyes.

It hadn't escaped (Y/n)'s notice that something was amiss between Tara and herself. Lately, their once vibrant connection had dimmed, leaving behind an unsettling silence. Tara's responses to her texts were delayed, leaving them unread for what felt like an eternity, only to receive curt and simple replies. Their nightly calls, once filled with laughter and heartfelt conversations, had dwindled to mere whispers of their former selves.

(Y/n) had tried to attribute Tara's behavior to exam stress, desperately clinging to the hope that it was a passing phase. But deep down, a gnawing doubt lingered, as if an invisible force was eroding the foundation of their relationship. It was a silent ache that chipped away at her sense of security, whispering the possibility of something more significant beneath the surface.

With a heavy sigh, (Y/n) wrestled with her conflicted thoughts, battling between wanting to confront the issue head-on and fearing the answers that lay beyond. As tears streaked down her cheeks, she realized that the movie night had symbolized more than just a chance to unwind—it had become a symbol of the dwindling connection she desperately longed to reignite.

In the midst of her turmoil, the sadness transformed to rage.

(Y/n):

Seriously tar

(Y/n):

Istg we’ve been planning this night for months now

(Y/n):

I seriously need you right now, we haven’t hung out in so long and you want to cancel on me

Determined to break the silence and confront the anguish that consumed her, (Y/n) resolved to make Tara fully aware of the pain she was inflicting. She refused to suffer in the darkness any longer, vowing to express the depth of her emotions and lay bare the impact of Tara's actions on their relationship.

With bated breath, (Y/n) watched the notification indicating that Tara had read her text. Her eyes fixated on the screen, heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and anticipation, as she anxiously awaited the telltale signs of Tara's response. The seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity, every passing moment fueling her need for a reply, a sign that their connection still held a glimmer of hope.

Tara:

I’m sorry but ambers been having a bad day

In an explosion of fiery emotions, (Y/n)'s anger consumed her. The realization that Tara had prioritized a friend's well-being over her own girlfriend's struck a nerve deep within her. How could Tara fail to show even a shred of concern for what (Y/n) had endured throughout the week? The flames of resentment burned brightly, fueled by the perception that Tara lacked the basic decency to make an effort to understand and support her partner. (Y/n) yearned for acknowledgment, for Tara to see the depth of her pain and recognize the importance of their connection.

With each passing second, the fire within (Y/n) raged on, threatening to consume everything in its path. The time for silence and complacency was over. (Y/n) vowed to confront Tara, to unleash the inferno of her feelings and demand the respect and consideration she deserved.

(Y/n):

What about your own fucking girlfriend huh?

(Y/n):

Do you even know what the fuck happened to me this week!

(Y/n):

No you don’t, because it’s always Amber this, Amber that, Amber Amber Amber

Tara:

R u being serious rn

(Y/n):

my dog died on Monday

(Y/n):

it’s Saturday Tara

(Y/n):

and you didn’t even know because you aren’t even talking to me anymore.

(Y/n) let out a heavy sigh, frustration and hurt weighing heavily on her shoulders. She tossed her phone onto the couch, its screen illuminating the room for a moment before sinking into the soft cushions. She buried her head in her hands, seeking solace in the darkness, hoping that this act of vulnerability would finally make Tara realize the profound impact of her actions.

As (Y/n)'s fingers interlaced, a subtle vibration traveled through the cushions beside her. Startled, she lifted her head and turned her gaze toward the source of the unexpected movement. A flicker of hope sparked within her, wondering if perhaps Tara had sensed the gravity of the situation and was reaching out in response.

With a mixture of anticipation and trepidation, (Y/n) reached for her phone, hoping to find a message from Tara that would acknowledge the pain she had caused and signal a willingness to address the underlying issues.

Tara:

Milos dead?

As tears streamed down her face, (Y/n)'s heart sank deeper into despair. The painful truth hit her with a forceful blow—Tara hadn't even acknowledged her feelings, let alone shown remorse for the hurt she had caused. In that moment, (Y/n) realized the difficult decision she needed to make.

Her fingers trembled as she wiped away the tears, a newfound determination taking root within her. It became clear that she couldn't continue in a relationship where her needs went unacknowledged and her emotions were dismissed. (Y/n) understood that she deserved someone who would put in the effort, who would cherish and respect her.

With a heavy yet resolute sigh, (Y/n) made up her mind. She would give Tara the space to figure herself out, to confront her own shortcomings and decide if she was willing to put in the effort required to mend their fractured bond. (Y/n) knew that she deserved a partner who would meet her halfway, who would prioritize their love and demonstrate genuine care.

As she made this decision, a bittersweet sense of liberation washed over (Y/n). It was a painful realization, but also a necessary one. She was prepared to step back, to let Tara find her own way, and to focus on healing herself in the process. With newfound clarity, she resolved to no longer tolerate being taken for granted.

(Y/n):

Tara I think we should take a break

Tara:

WHAT

Tara:

(Y/n) you can’t be serious

Tara:

We need to talk about this in person

Tara:

Come over I’ve told Amber to stay home

(Y/n):

we’ll talk on monday

With a heavy sigh, (Y/n) flipped her phone over and gently placed it back on the couch cushion. The persistent buzzing continued for a couple of minutes before gradually fading into silence. As she sat cross-legged on the floor, her gaze fixated on the plain wall before her, her mind swirled with a mixture of emotions.

In an effort to divert her thoughts, (Y/n) decided to immerse herself in a familiar and comforting activity. Rising from the floor, she made her way to the kitchen with determined steps. As she gathered the ingredients for baking cookies, the room filled with the sweet and nostalgic aroma that enveloped her senses.

With each measured scoop and gentle mix, (Y/n) found solace in the rhythmic process of creating something warm and inviting. The familiar motions of baking temporarily transported her to cherished memories of love and comfort, memories intertwined with moments shared with Tara. It was bittersweet, a reminder of the love they had once shared and the warmth that had brought them together.

As the cookies began to bake, filling the air with an irresistible scent, (Y/n) couldn't help but be caught in a swirl of conflicting emotions. The aroma wrapped around her, providing a temporary respite from the pain and uncertainty. Yet, within that comforting scent, lay memories of the love and connection she and Tara had once shared. It was a bittersweet reminder of what they had lost, but also a glimmer of the love that still lingered in her heart.

As (Y/n) carefully laid the freshly baked cookie onto the cooling rack, her mind drifted into a melodic trance. Humming a tune that played on repeat in her head, she found solace in the rhythmic melody. Lost in the sweet moment, her worries momentarily faded away.

However, her blissful reverie was abruptly interrupted by the persistent buzzing of her phone. Buzz, buzz, buzz. The sound echoed through the room, piercing the tranquility she had cultivated. (Y/n) let out a weary sigh, wondering what urgent message or notification could demand her attention at this moment.

Her playful imagination offered a lighthearted explanation, imagining that Mindy must be spamming her with updates about a newly announced horror movie. The thought brought a small giggle to her lips, a brief respite from the emotional heaviness that weighed upon her.

Curiosity piqued, (Y/n) reached for her phone, eager to discover the nature of the buzzes that had disrupted her peaceful interlude. With a mix of anticipation and amusement, she unlocked the screen, preparing herself for the unexpected and hoping for a welcome distraction from her swirling emotions.

Tara:

there’s some psycho calling me

Tara:

I answered an unknown number they know my name

Tara:

Shit

Tara:

I’ve locked my doors

Tara:

Please come over asap

Tara:

i can’t leave cars with my mom

Tara:

He’s fucking calling again

Tara:

Ambers acting weird

Tara:

False alarm maybe?

Tara:

She’s telling me to answer it

Tara:

(Y/n) seriously get your ass over here, the creeps using her phone, they knew when the landline was ringing

Tara:

I’m seriously freaking out right now

(Y/n)'s body went rigid with a chilling dread as the series of alarming texts from Tara unfolded before her eyes. Panic surged through her veins, and she knew she had to act swiftly. With a sense of urgency, she scrambled to put on her shoes, her fingers trembling as she hastily laced them up.

Her mind raced, consumed by a growing sense of unease. The cryptic messages from Tara painted a haunting picture of a dangerous situation unfolding. (Y/n)'s heart pounded, propelled by both fear for Tara's safety and a desperate need to unravel the mystery that now threatened them.

She frantically searched the couch cushions, her hands darting between the crevices, determined to find the misplaced car keys that held the key to her escape. Time seemed to slip through her fingers, each passing second amplifying the urgency of the situation.

Finally, her fingers closed around the cool metal of the car keys, and a flicker of hope ignited within her. With a gasp of relief, she pulled them free, clutching them tightly in her trembling hand. There was no time to waste.

(Y/n) dashed toward the door, her heart racing like a drumbeat of adrenaline. The gravity of Tara's messages resonated within her, spurring her forward with unwavering determination. She needed to reach Tara's side, to offer comfort, protection, and an unwavering presence in the face of their shared fear.

Sitting in the front seat of her car, (Y/n)'s hands trembled as she realized the urgency of letting Tara know she was on her way to help. With swift determination, she typed out a message,

(Y/n):

Omw gimme 5 mins I’ll call cops otw

Before she could even start the engine Tara had replied

Tara:

Hurry

Amber:

ANSWER THE PHONE OR AMBER DIES

Tara's heart raced as she sprinted towards the ringing landline, a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins. Every fiber of her being was driven by the desperate need to save her friend from whatever horrors were lurking on the other end of the line. She knew her girlfriend, was already on her way, determined to reach her side as quickly as humanly possible, speeding down the suburban streets, driven by an urgent need to make the ten-minute drive shorter.

With trembling hands, Tara snatched the receiver from its cradle, her voice filled with anger and defiance as she spoke into the phone, “This isn’t fucking funny Amber!”

The voice that emanated from the other end of the line sent a chill down Tara's spine. It was a voice shrouded in mystery, draped in a tone that seemed to drip with a malevolent aura. It held an eerie calmness, devoid of any warmth or humanity, as if it existed solely to strike fear into her heart.

As the words, “I told you, this isn’t Amber,”resonated through the receiver, the voice carried a bone-chilling quality. It was a voice that sent a shiver racing down Tara's back, conjuring images of hidden dangers and unseen terrors. There was an unsettling cadence to the voice, a calculated rhythm that left no doubt that it was intended to provoke fear and uncertainty.

Tara's immediate internal fear intensified in response. The realization that the voice on the other end of the line was not who she initially assumed filled her with a sense of dread. It was a realization that shattered any lingering hope of this being a mere misunderstanding or prank. Instead, it emphasized the presence of an unknown figure, one with malicious intentions and a voice that resonated with a menacing power.

In that moment, Tara's fear became palpable, her instincts urging her to take caution and be on guard.

Tara's heart skipped a beat as a message flashed across her phone screen. Her trembling hands reached for the device, and with a mixture of curiosity and dread, she opened the message. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she watched the video that unfolded before her.

Amber, caught in an intimate moment, unaware of the malevolent presence that lurked just outside her bedroom window. The chilling voice that narrated the video through the crackling receiver broke the silence, dripping with a sarcastic tone that sent a shiver down Tara's spine.

As the video played, Tara's breath hitched, her mind reeling with the realization that Amber’s phone had been cloned. How long had she been talking to this unknown psycho for? She felt exposed, vulnerable, and at the mercy of an unknown adversary who had found a way to infiltrate her most personal moments.

“What do you want?” Tara quivered, unsure of what the voice wanted from her.

“I told you, I want to play a game,”

“Stab movie trivia,”

The malevolent figure had known she didn’t know anything about the Stab franchise, just moments before, she had confessed to only watching the first movie—and even then, it was at a sleepover six years ago—Tara felt a wave of panic wash over her as the weight of her predicament settled in her chest. The options before her seemed daunting: she could reach out to the authorities, but the looming threat of immediate harm or worse, death, loomed over her. The malevolent figure had made it clear that any wrong move, any misstep, would have dire consequences for Amber.

Her mind raced, desperately searching for a way out of this nightmarish scenario. She felt the weight of the Stab franchise's intricate details and plot twists bearing down on her, her limited knowledge leaving her vulnerable to the malevolent figure's sadistic game. The questions that awaited her were poised like traps, ready to ensnare her and seal Amber's tragic fate.

“Question one, who wrote the original books that the Stab movies are based on?”

Tara's mind raced as she desperately tried to recollect her memories. A book? The details were hazy, fading remnants of a distant recollection. She racked her brain, grasping for any shred of information that could help her in this dire situation. In a moment of clarity, a name burst forth from the depths of her memory.

"Th-the chick from TV," she stammered, her voice quivering. "Oh, Gale Weathers! It's Gale Weathers, you motherfucker!"

A chilling silence hung in the air, interrupted only by the masked figure's sinister chuckle. "Correct," the voice responded, dripping with a perverse satisfaction. "Amber might live to see the sunrise."

“Question two, who played the dumb bitch in the beginning of Stab one, who answers the phone and gets carved up by the killer?”

Tara’s hands quivered, the voice speaking almost mockingly to her situation, she never thought such an innocent phone call would end up like this, “fuck you!” She whispered quietly.

“Is that the answer you’re going with?”

Tara's sobs escaped her lips, a mixture of fear and frustration enveloping her. Time was slipping away, and the pressure to find the answer mounted with each tick of the taunting noises in the background. Desperation fueled her actions as she hastily pulled out her phone, fingers trembling as she searched for the cast list of Stab.

The voice on the other end of the line relished in her panic, using the ticking noises to remind her of the ever-dwindling seconds. Tara's eyes darted across the screen, her fingers swiping frantically, searching for that one crucial detail she needed. Where was it? The pressure weighed heavily upon her, pushing her to the brink.

"Heather Graham!" she blurted out, her voice quivering with a mix of uncertainty and hope. It was the answer that had come to mind, a name she hoped was associated with the first Stab movie. In that fleeting moment, she clung to the belief that her response was correct, that it would be enough to keep Amber safe.

A pause hung in the air, the voice on the other end relishing in the suspense. Then, a response echoed through the phone line. "Correct," the voice acknowledged, a sinister satisfaction lacing its tone. "Now, the final question: Who was the killer in Stab one?"

Tara almost sighed in relief, her voice laced with a mix of distress and defiance. "Oh, I know this one, you fuck!" Her words carried a defiant edge, fueled by a surge of determination. With a swallowed gulp, she didn't hesitate to provide her answer. "It's Billy Loomis! He's Sidney's boyfriend, and he was played by Luke Wilson. I've got you, asshole!"

An air of relief and triumph began to creep into Tara's voice, ready to celebrate her victory over the voice that had tormented her. She was certain of her answer, convinced that she had outsmarted the sinister figure on the other end of the line. "I've got it!"

A chilling silence hung in the air before the voice delivered a shocking response. "Oh, I'm sorry, Tara, but that's just not correct."

Tara's look of relief crumbled, replaced by a mix of confusion and growing concern. Doubt gnawed at her as she attempted to double-check her answer, her fingers frantically navigating through her phone. How could she have been so wrong? Billy Loomis was the killer, wasn't he?

"The correct answer is Billy Loomis and Stu Macher," the voice coldly explained, reveling in its control over the situation. "There are two killers in the original Stab. I'm afraid someone's gotta die now."

With a surge of adrenaline, Tara rushed towards the front door, her sole focus on saving Amber's life. Her trembling hands fumbled with the lock, desperately trying to unlock it and swing the door open. As the door swung wide, her path was abruptly blocked by a figure standing in the doorway, clad in the iconic Stab Ghostface costume. The sight sent chills down her spine.

In the intruder's hand gleamed a knife, its blade poised for attack, slashing at her side. Fear coursed through Tara's veins, but she refused to let it paralyze her. Summoning her courage, she lashed out, delivering a powerful punch aimed at the intruder's face. The blow momentarily stunned the masked figure, giving Tara a brief moment of respite.

Seizing the opportunity, she pushed against the door with all her might, attempting to shut it on the intruder. A grunt escaped her lips as she exerted every ounce of strength, her body pressed against the door. However, the relentless assailant's gloved hand snaked through the narrowing crack, the glint of a hunter knife threateningly waving in the air.

With a final burst of effort, Tara managed to force the intruder out and swiftly locked the door from the inside. Trembling and gasping for breath, she clutched at her pouring wound, tears streaming down her face in hysterics. Despite the pain and fear overwhelming her, she managed to summon the presence of mind to activate the home security system, a desperate attempt to fortify herself against any further intrusion.

The deafening bangs against the front door reverberated through the house, each thud echoing with a bone-chilling intensity. Tara clutched a knife tightly in her trembling hands, attempting to assert some form of control. She threatened the intruder with the arrival of the police, hoping to deter them. Yet, as abruptly as the banging started, it ceased, leaving the house shrouded in an eerie silence.

Tara cautiously backed away from the door, her gaze fixed on it, her senses on high alert. The wound on her side throbbed with pain, each heartbeat a painful reminder of her vulnerability. The momentary respite was disrupted by a loud noise emanating from her phone.

ALL SYSTEMS DISARMED.

Fear gripped her heart as she realized the intruder had tampered with the security system. With a desperate rush, she quickly accessed the app, her fingers trembling as she frantically locked the doors once again.

SYSTEMS ARMED.

The repeating cycle of the security system continued, amplifying the tension that hung in the air. Tara's mind raced as she tried to regain control, her wounded body screaming with each movement. She tapped on the lock button in a frenzied frenzy, desperately hoping to deny the intruder any chance of entry.

But the unrelenting repetition of the words continued, mocking her efforts.

ALL SYSTEMS DISARMED.

Tara's fear escalated, her voice choked with terror as she attempted to shout for help. Yet, no words escaped her lips, only hoarse noises of distress. Her movements became erratic, each pause prolonging the time it took to secure the locks.

SYSTEMS ARMED.

ALL SYSTEMS DISARMED.

SYSTEMS ARMED.

The relentless cycle of the security system added to the mounting tension, amplifying the sense of impending danger. Tara's breaths grew ragged as she slowly backed into the kitchen, her gaze never straying from the front door.

The piercing ring of the landline shattered the silence once again, sending a surge of fear coursing through Tara's veins. Her scream of terror echoed through the house as she hit her back against the wall, tears streaming down her cheeks like a torrent. With hesitant steps, she moved toward the ringing phone, each movement laden with trepidation.

"Hello?"

"Bonus Question, Tara!"

Tara's plea fell on deaf ears as the voice on the other end continued with sadistic glee. Her body curled inward, overcome by fear. She couldn't bear the torment any longer. Her thoughts raced to (Y/n), praying for her swift arrival. Tara wished she would come sooner, but deep down, she hoped the police would arrive first, shielding her from harm. In that moment, Tara realised she couldn't bear the thought of (Y/n) getting hurt. If she made it out alive, she vowed to never let her go again.

"Do you think I made it inside your house before you could rearm?"

An icy arm coiled around Tara's trembling torso, pulling her forcefully against a chilling presence. The killer's other hand, wielding the gleaming blade, plunged mercilessly into her gut. Agonized screams tore from Tara's throat as the knife was wrenched out, leaving a trail of crimson in its wake. Fighting against the searing pain, she managed to push herself away from her assailant, her front colliding with the cold, unforgiving countertop.

Summoning a surge of determination, Tara spun around with a sudden backhand, striking the killer with a burst of defiance. But her resistance was short-lived as a vice-like grip seized her hair, wrenching her down onto the unforgiving hardwood floor. The impact jarred her senses, leaving her disoriented and vulnerable, face pressed into the unyielding surface.

Desperation fueled her every movement as Tara attempted to kick away her attacker, her hopes of escape crushed under the brutal force of a stomping boot. The sickening crack of bone echoed through the air, intertwining with Tara's anguished screams. Her ankle mangled and shattered, rendering her attempts at resistance futile.

The killer, relentless in their pursuit, sought to position Tara for a final, fatal blow. But she refused to succumb without a fight. Summoning every ounce of strength, she raised her trembling hand in a desperate bid for defense. The blade tore through her flesh, eliciting a surge of searing pain, yet she persisted. Pushing against the blade with an agonizing determination, her blood mingling with the tears streaming down her face.

A fleeting moment of distraction granted Tara a brief respite. Seizing the opportunity, she mustered her remaining strength and launched a fierce kick at her tormentor. The force sent them hurtling backward, colliding violently with the kitchen island. Tara, lying prone on her stomach, dragged herself across the floor, a crimson trail left in her wake, intermingled with her anguished sobs.

The killer, slowly rising to their feet, taunted her with sadistic amusement. Their presence shadowed her every move as she struggled towards the distant patio doors, the faint wail of sirens growing louder. But her desperate escape was cut short as they viciously seized her ankles, yanking her back into their clutches. With chilling precision, they struck her back twice, puncturing her with each merciless stab.

A crimson halo enveloped Tara, her strength waning, yet she fought against the encroaching darkness. The killer spun her around, their malevolence masked by the reflection of red and blue police lights bouncing off their plastic Ghostface facade. As the world blurred and her life hung in the balance, a final cry reverberated through the night, a desperate plea for salvation.

“TARA!”

When (Y/n) burst through the front door, her heart sank at the sight of Tara's bloodied body sprawled across the floor. Ignoring the fading smudge of black, her focus was solely on Tara's well-being. She rushed over, cradling Tara's unconscious form against her chest, an instinctual need to protect taking over. If only she had come over as planned, if only she hadn't let jealousy cloud her judgment about Tara's friendship with Amber. (Y/n)'s tears streamed down her face as she held Tara's good hand, pressing gentle kisses to its back. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice laced with regret.

To her astonishment, Tara's hand weakly squeezed back, a glimmer of hope amidst the despair. (Y/n)'s touch shifted to cup Tara's blood-stained cheek, her eyes filled with concern. "Just hold on, darling. The ambulance is right outside," she reassured, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and determination. The sound of approaching footsteps alerted (Y/n) to the presence of others in the house, as people hurried into the kitchen, acknowledging the need for immediate medical assistance.

Tara was swiftly transferred to a waiting stretcher, (Y/n) steadfastly refusing to let go of her limp hand. A paramedic approached, inquiring about their relationship. (Y/n)'s voice trembled as she pleaded, tears streaming down her face, "I'm her girlfriend. Please, let me go with her. I can't leave her alone again." The paramedic nodded sympathetically, granting her request. "Go ahead," they said, understanding the depth of (Y/n)'s anguish.

With a mixture of hope and trepidation, (Y/n) followed Tara into the ambulance, her grip on her girlfriend's hand unyielding.

The ride to the hospital seemed like a hazy dream, (Y/n)'s mind clouded with worry and guilt. Tara remained unconscious, her pale face framed by the sterile hospital lights. The paramedics worked diligently, tending to her wounds with professional efficiency. (Y/n)'s gaze never wavered from Tara's face, her eyes searching desperately for any flicker of awareness. She wanted Tara to know that she was there, that she would never leave her side, even if the hospital staff tried to force her out.

The sight of Tara in the hospital bed, connected to various monitors and IV drips, filled (Y/n)'s heart with a mix of anguish and determination. This could have been prevented if only she had been there with her girlfriend. Now, Tara lay covered in gauze and dissolvable stitches, a stark reminder of the violence she had endured. (Y/n) vowed silently to be her rock, to support her through every step of the recovery process.

As the hospital staff continued their work, (Y/n) gently held Tara's hand, offering a silent reassurance in her touch. She whispered words of love and encouragement, hoping that somewhere within the depths of Tara's unconsciousness, her presence would be felt. The beeping machines and sterile hospital environment faded into the background as (Y/n)'s focus remained solely on Tara, her unwavering devotion shining through her eyes.

(Y/n)'s thoughts swirled with conflicting emotions as she sat by Tara's side in the hospital room. The urge to reach out to their friends and inform them about what had happened tugged at her, but a part of her hesitated. Almost selfishly, she wanted this moment to be just between her and Tara. She wanted Tara to wake up and find solace in her presence, to see the remorse and love etched in every fiber of her being.

Clutching Tara's hand tightly, (Y/n)'s eyes never left her girlfriend's face. She longed for Tara to open her eyes, to see the love and dedication shining through her gaze. It was important for (Y/n) to express her deepest apologies, to make sure Tara understood that she would never abandon her, no matter what. She needed Tara to know the depths of her love and commitment, to feel the unwavering support and presence by her side.

Growing weary, (Y/n) felt herself slipping into the realm of dreams, her grip on Tara's hand never faltering. But just as she began to drift away, a voice reached her ears, pulling her back to consciousness. With a sudden squeeze of her hand, Tara's touch broke through the veil of sleep. (Y/n)'s eyes shot open, wide with surprise and relief. There was Tara, sitting up in her hospital bed, her disheveled hair tied back, her eyes red and weary, and yet her presence was a beacon of beauty and strength.

Tears welled up in (Y/n)'s eyes, streaming down her cheeks like an unstoppable cascade. It was as if a dam had burst within her, releasing all the pent-up emotions she had been holding onto. Tara's loving gaze quickly shifted to concern at the sight of (Y/n)'s tears. "What's wrong? Please don't cry," Tara's voice, raspy from the ordeal, carried that familiar softness and affectionate tone that (Y/n) had longed to hear.

Through her tear-strained voice, (Y/n) choked out her words, unable to contain the overwhelming remorse and love she felt. "Tara, I'm so fucking sorry. I should have just come over, I should have been there for you-" Her words trailed off, interrupted by the weight of her guilt.

Tara's expression softened, a tender smile gracing her lips. "Hey, hey, it's okay," she reassured, her voice filled with warmth and understanding. "None of this was your fault. I know you would have been here if you could. What matters now is that you're here with me, and I love you.”

Tara scooted to the edge of the hospital bed, patting the space beside her, an invitation for (Y/n) to join her. The desire for comfort and solace radiated from Tara's eyes, a silent plea for the warmth of her girlfriend's embrace after the harrowing ordeal they had both endured. (Y/n) hesitated for a moment, mindful of Tara's injuries, but the need for their souls to intertwine and find solace in each other's presence outweighed any physical discomfort. Gingerly, she laid down beside Tara, careful to support herself and cradle Tara's head in her arms.

Nuzzling her nose into Tara's hair, (Y/n) whispered with a voice filled with love and longing, "I missed you." The words carried the weight of their shared experiences and the depth of their connection. In that tender moment, they sought solace in each other's embrace, finding strength and healing in their love.

Tara shifted slightly, snuggling closer to (Y/n)'s chest, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. The rise and fall of each other's breaths created a rhythm that matched their heartbeat, a synchrony of love and reassurance. (Y/n) pressed gentle kisses to the top of Tara's head, conveying the depth of her affection and the promise of unwavering support.

As they lay there, entwined in each other's arms, the world outside the hospital room faded away.

“I missed you too”

[jnginlov]

ateez as romantic tropes

⇀ genre fluff, angst, comedy

⇀ style blurbs

⇀ wc listed per member (between 1.1k and 2.2k)

⇀ warnings all readers are gender neutral, listed per member

⇀ reactions from the gc “Yep mhm would def swoon over him yes mhm yep” “BRUH I give you all of your content for free” “I need Yunho to help me obliterate my kitchen cabinets” “Losing my mf mind over him”

note word count variation does not reflect any preference for specific members, some stories just felt like they needed more backstory or had more action

home for the holidays

⇀ pairing hs crush!seonghwa x hs crush!reader

⇀ wc 1.5k

⇀ warnings mentions of food

“seonghwa! come in!” his mother greeted him at the door of his childhood home, ushering him inside quickly before enveloping him in a warm hug.

she bombarded him with questions about his life in seoul, what he’d been eating, how he’d been sleeping, as he removed his shoes. he tried to keep up with all of her fussing as he dragged his suitcase down the hall and into his bedroom but he could barely get out more than a few words before she was moving onto her next thought.

“anyway, your father went out to pick up some tofu so i could make you sundubu-jjigae,” she explains before she’s cut off by the sound of the doorbell and the kitchen timer going off simultaneously.

“i‘ll get the door,” seonghwa volunteers before his mother can say anything else, and pads back to where he had been only moments prior.

he’s not exactly sure what he expected on the other side of the door, especially so late in the evening, but he thinks he might be able to feel every nerve ending on his body alight when he opens the door to find you.

you look both severely different and exactly the same as when he’d last seen you, minus the lack of your high school’s blue uniform. of course you’ve changed your hair, your style seems to have improved as well, but mostly you just look more mature, more you, if that’s possible.

“oh, seonghwa,” you chirp, your surprise evident on your face, “i didn’t know you were back.”

“i didn’t know you were still in town,” he counters, his expression mirroring your own.

you don’t say anything, simply trying to process that the boy you’d had a crush on in high school had become, well, a man. he was considerably more attractive than he had been years ago, if that was even possible, and he almost seemed to hold himself with more confidence even if he was just standing in the middle of the entryway of his childhood home. you try to urge your mind to stay in the present but it can’t help but dig up your old memories of high school seonghwa and all the reasons you should have told him you liked him back then.

when you don’t say anything, seonghwa speaks up, asking, “is there something i can do for you?”

you suddenly are remembering your mission and the tote bag that’s weighing down your shoulder, housing the reason you’ve been coming to his parents house for the past few months.

“right!” you say, taking one of the containers out of your bag and presenting it to seonghwa. “this is for your mom.”

just as you mention her, seonghwa can hear his mom shuffling down the hall behind him, her slippers slapping against the wood floor to announce her coming.

“y/n is that you?” she says once she’s right behind her son. “well don’t make them stand outside,” she scolds seonghwa, gesturing for him to move so that you can step past the threshold.

“hi mrs park,” you greet his mother with a bow, still holding the container in your hands as you trade your outside shoes for the guest slippers.

“you shouldn’t be walking this late by yourself dear,” she scolds gently before heading back to the kitchen, you pittering after her lightly.

for a moment seonghwa stands in shock, doorknob still clutched in his hand and gears turning in his head. since when had you become friends with his mom? and since when did you start knowing which ones were the guest slippers? and since when had he started to miss you?

“and i wanted to get it to you while it was fresh.”

seonghwa joins you both in the kitchen and catches the tail end of your statement, presumably an explanation as to why you’re walking to his house so late.

“it would have been perfectly fine tomorrow,” his mother only replies, removing the lid from the container you’d given her and revealing a loaf of, what looked to be, homemade bread.

“it’s a cinnamon milk bread,” you say and seonghwa turns to see you looking at him. he doesn’t say anything in response and you simply smile, turning back to his mother after just a moment. his mind is still reeling as he watches you, stood casually in the kitchen as though you belong here. you hold none of the awkwardness that normally is present when someone visits another’s home for the first time and some little voice in the back of his mind tells him that it feels domestic. of course, he tries to push that thought away.

“here,” his mother says after she’s transferred the bread into her own container and returned yours, “you should stay for dinner. i’m making sundubu-jjigae.”

you shake your head, a slight look of hesitation on your face and seonghwa assumes that you’ve probably stayed for dinner plenty when he was gone. “that sounds delicious but i should be getting back. i have another loaf cooling on my counter that i need to pack up,” you explain.

“well at least have seonghwa walk you back,” she suggests, and you’re obviously about to decline, based on your body language, when seonghwa insists.

you agree then, not putting up much of a fight once you know his mother isn’t forcing him for her own satisfaction, making your way back out and beginning a steady trek back to your own house.

“how’s seoul?” you ask after a beat, not wanting to walk in awkward silence the entire way.

“it’s nice,” he says simply before adding, “busy.”

you nod in understanding. “i’m sure.”

“how are you?” he asks.

as you turn to look at him again, your eyes crinkling slightly as you grin, he feels like he’s never left his hometown. he’s still sat in his desk at school watching you laugh with your friends across the room during lunch. you would always notice him staring, turning and presenting him the same warm smile you give him now.

he realizes in this moment that he wishes he’d told you, all those years ago, about what his friends always teased him for, about how much he liked you, because now it’s manifested into a gentle ache that seems to pull him back, to that time and to you. he guesses there’s a reason that people say distance makes the heart grow fonder.

you notice the expression on his face, the same one he wore in high school when he was deep in thought. not one that would appear during a test or when studying but one that would show when he was debating with his friends or talking about his future.

“what are you thinking about?” you ask to break the silence, genuine curiosity sparkling behind your eyes.

“hmmm nothing i guess,” he tries to play it off but you give him a suspicious look. “school,” he tries again, being broad about his approach.

“i guess that is the last time we saw each other,” you say and he wonders if you remember it all as clearly as him.

you toss around the idea of admitting what you never had to anyone before and maybe it’s something in the comfort of the night air or just the way seonghwa’s eyes are so focused on you but you decide that if you never say anything now you’ll surely regret it.

“you know,” you continue after another moment of silence, “i had a crush on you in high school.”

seonghwa feels his heart stop for a moment, his entire body consumed by a warmth that’s surely tinged his skin red as he tries to remember how to breath and walk at the same time.

“really?” he huffs, hoping you don’t notice how wobbly his steps have gotten.

“yeah, i don’t know, you were just really sweet and cute,” you elaborate and seonghwa can’t tell if he wants you to stop talking or continue, your voice starting to overlap with his heartbeat in his ears.

he’s so distracted trying to control himself, he almost doesn’t notice when you’ve stopped in front of your house. he certainly doesn’t notice the sly smile that’s stretched across your face, indicating that you’ve clearly observed his reaction to your news.

“how long are you going to be in town?” you ask, fiddling with the strap of your tote bag and urging your heart to stop beating up against your rib cage.

“just two weeks,” he manages to say in between deep breaths to calm his own pulse, eyes wide and lips parted slightly.

“well, let me know if you’re free at any point,” you say, preparing to take the final leap. “we can get coffee or something.”

he nods as you turn to walk toward your door and seonghwa, for the first time, feels his mouth moving before he can stop it.

“what about dinner? tomorrow?”

you turn back, smile beautifully complimenting the blush on your cheeks, and nod.

“see you then.”

foreigner

⇀ pairing white knight!hongjoong x traveler!reader

⇀ wc 1.1k

⇀ warnings implied panic attack/crying in public, street harassment, creepy middle aged guy

note i always find random hangul in fics annoying but for this you don’t need to understand what he’s saying because the whole point is you don’t

of course you would manage to get lost in the biggest city in korea on your first day of your month long trip. you’d planned for almost everything, except, of course, navigating through the intricate seoul subway system. to be fair, your friend joomi had promised to pick you up from the airport before she’d been called in on a work emergency. you had assured her that you could find your way to her apartment on your own but now, as you stood on the wrong side of the platform, watching yet another train, that would have taken you toward your destination, leave, you’re not so sure anymore.

you huff in frustration, the wheels on your suitcase clicking against the tiles as you try to find an empty bench, hoping that you can maybe collect your thoughts before you start to feel the familiar sting of tears behind your eyes. you try not to think of how you might look right now, stale from your flight, sweaty from running between trains, and slightly pathetic from being overwhelmed by something everyone else seems to have mastered.

you quickly abandon your bench search as your phone tells you how long you would have to wait for the next train and you weigh the worth of spending an hour and a half sitting in the stuffy station or dragging your suitcase around the street above, settling on trying to maybe just find a convenience store or some place to grab a coffee.

luckily the area you’re stranded doesn’t seem too crowded, the streets easy to navigate without having to serpentine between people with your month worth of luggage. you find a semi empty convenience store pretty easy enough, paying for a couple snacks, an ice cup, and a drink with ease, conscious of the way the other people in the shop are doing double takes at you, likely due to your suitcase and the duffle on your shoulder.

you’ve never been more grateful to korean convenience stores and their included seating as right now, able to finally take a breath as you sit with your food.

as you try to mind your business, texting joomi to update her about where you are and the predicament you’re in, you can almost feel a burning gaze coming from one of the tables diagonal your own. you try to ignore it, as you did with the gazes earlier, but it feels different, somehow predatory.

“이봐, 너는 어디서 왔니?”

you look up to see a man, probably in his late 50s, starring intensely at you, confirming your suspicions about his watching you.

when you don’t respond, he says something else in korean, something you can’t understand with your limited knowledge of the language, and you try not to panic, but as he stands, seemingly trying to make his way over to you, you feel your heartbeat skyrocketing.

“i don’t-“ you start, gripping your phone tightly as you flounder for what to do.

the man takes another step toward you, saying something else that you can only assume isn’t nice from the way he seems to snarl it and reaching out to grab the handle of your suitcase that you’d placed behind the chair across from you but before he can take hold of your bag it’s being pulled away by a different man, someone who looks to be around your own age.

he addresses the older man with a forced smile, obviously angered at the situation and you try to interpret what is happening before you. you can’t understand a word either man is saying, trying too hard to just process the situation you’re in, but eventually the older man leaves, your savior watching intently to make sure he’s really gone before turning to you.

“you, uh, speak english?” he asks, finally rolling your suitcase back to where you’d originally placed it, although you assume it’s more of a courtesy question as he’d probably heard your unsettled words when trying to address the other man.

you nod, a gentle “yes” escaping you as you try to parse what this new man wants from you.

“are you okay?” he asks gently.

you try to search his eyes for any sense of danger but all you can see is worry.

“i’m fine,” you say with a little more certainty than before.

“good,” he says with a slight sigh, his shoulders visibly relaxing. he looks between you and your suitcase once before speaking up again. “what are you doing here?”

you take a moment to decide whether to tell him or not but you assume if he had wanted to harm you that he wouldn’t have stepped in to help you before, and so you tell him, “i’m waiting for a train, it doesn’t come for another hour.”

he nods in understanding.

“what’s your name?” you feel yourself ask before you register what you’re actually doing.

“ah, my name is hongjoong,” he replies.

all of his words are slow, deliberate, as he speaks to you, a contrast to how quickly he was talking in korean only moments ago.

you try to slow down your own words as you ask, “how do you know english?”

he seems to almost perk up at that, interested to tell you, “oh, i’m learning right now. sorry if my grammar is bad.”

you shake your head quickly, “no, no. you’re fine. i’m just glad i have someone to talk to.”

he hums in understanding before asking, “what is your name?”

you introduce yourself, even spelling out your name for him, before you notice the plastic bag in his hands.

“oh, would you like to,” you trail off, gesturing to the seat across from you in invitation.

he seems hesitant and you almost want to take back your offer before he says, “you are sure?”

you nod with a gentle smile and he mirrors your expression, helping you move your duffle onto the ground beneath your table and taking a seat across from you.

you talk casually with hongjoong for the rest of your wait, letting him give you a list of things you should try to do with your time in seoul.

“isn’t the han river more of a date spot?” you question as he collects both of your trash into his plastic bag.

“you could take your partner,” he says, glancing at you and you know he’s trying to gauge your reaction as his ears tint pink.

“oh!” you quip, your own face blooming with warmth. “uhm no, i don’t have a boyfriend or anything,” you rush to say, flicking your gaze between the table and the floor.

“then, what if we went?” hongjoong practically whispers and your eyes shoot up to his face, his now as red as yours.

boy next door

⇀ paring mechanic!yunho x house flipper!reader

⇀ wc 1.5k

⇀ warnings mentions of food, eating, suggestive, allusions to sex, recent breakup, mentions of a cheating ex, imagining hitting said cheating ex

maybe you should have listened to your friends that told you flipping a house all by yourself was a bit ambitious, but they should have known telling you that would only make you want to do it more. your family might have called you stubborn but you liked to frame it as strong-willed. so here you sat, covered in streaks of paint as you ate your lunch on the floor of a kitchen that was still wholly unusable while the fresh varnish on the living room walls started to dry.

you had yet to buy any furniture, an air mattress your only comfort at night, after selling everything from your apartment in the city. all of it was stained by memories of your ex, moments you’d shared together before he’d told you he’d been seeing someone else behind your back for months.

it’s fine, you could use a change of scenery anyway.

the suburbs were treating you well so far, the neighbor on your right a little old lady, ms. lee, that housed and cared for the feral cats in the area who had given you the most delicious treats she made herself as a house warming gift. you’d expected your other neighbor to be similar, or maybe a little family like most suburbs attracted, but what you had experienced yesterday was far from family friendly.

you’d come back from the hardware store around noon, buckets of paint weighing you down as you made your way up the driveway. you had spotted your neighbor’s garage door open and a shiny, certainly vintage, black car peaking out from inside. however, what you hadn’t noticed when sat in your own car, but were certainly aware of now that you could see inside perfectly, was a man, clad in a black tank top and track pants, leaning into the open hood of the black car.

you weren’t the type that normally stared at people, preferring to mind your business in most public spaces, but how could you not when a man built like a greek god, skin glowing from his efforts, was grunting in frustration as his arms flexed to adjust something in the depths of the vehicle, muscles defined so clearly as he fixed whatever was wrong. you tried not to think about how long it had been since you’d last gotten intimate with anyone, your ex seemingly uninterested every time you had tried to initiate anything for such a long time that you were surely only projecting your frustrations onto the poor man in front of you.

“hey! you must be the new neighbor.”

oh no, how long had you been staring.

“oh! yeah, i just moved in.”

although he had to have noticed you checking him out, he didn’t say anything about your ogling, a warm smile adorning his handsome face instead of the disgusted snarl you were prepared for.

“you’re fixing her up all by yourself?” he asks with a tick of his chin toward your house and you’re guessing he’d talked to ms. lee after she visited you.

“that’s the plan,” you nod with a chuckle, still feeling awkward from having been caught gawking at your new hot neighbor.

“my name’s yunho,” he introduces, cleaning a spot of grease off his hands with a rag before tossing it over his shoulder gently. “i’m not particularly known for my design skills but, if you ever need someone to hammer a nail or lift something heavy, feel free to ring my bell.”

you tried not to think of the double meaning of that last phrase, begging your mind to climb out of the gutter, and assured him you would before trying not to trip over your own feet on the way up to your front door.

and so your lunch break was spent thinking about the hot guy next door and how you could manage to avoid him for the rest of your life in order to steer clear of embarrassing yourself any further. of course, you could never expect for your life to go as planned.

the next week you’ve moved your focus into the kitchen, starting with the god awful cabinets that were certainly installed without a thought to the house’s time period or even functionality. although it was physically strenuous, taking a hammer to the cheap wood of those horrible cabinets was certainly helping you release some of the anger that had been simmering since the breakup. Maybe you should have printed out a picture of your ex’s face and taped it inside.

you were so focused, and making a pretty loud ruckus, that you almost didn’t hear the sound of your doorbell ringing. trying to think of who could possibly be interested in visiting you at 3 pm on a tuesday, you made your way to your front door, leaving your hammer in the kitchen but keeping your gloves on. you would have looked through the peephole of your door to determine if it was worth opening but of course the last owner of the property felt that a peephole wasn’t necessary. although, as you open the door to your neighbor, the hottie not the lady, you’re not sure a peephole would have changed your mind.

he’s in a simple outfit today, just a white t-shirt and dark jeans, but you still have to resist giving him a full glance up and down. his hair is slightly damp and based on the way you can clearly smell his smoky vanilla shampoo you can guess he’s just had a shower.

“hi,” you greet, trying not to think of the way you’re certainly looking and smelling like you’ve been dunked in a pool of your own sweat, your house currently without air conditioning and it being late spring.

“hey,” he says, the same warm smile making a reappearance as he stands on your porch.

he doesn’t say anything else and you almost wonder if maybe the heat is starting to get to you. could this be a dehydration induced hallucination?

“can i help you?” you ask after feeling like you’ve been making enough awkward eye contact, although yunho’s smile hasn’t budged.

“right!” he chirps, as though remembering what he’s doing. “i just wanted to make sure you weren’t dead or anything. i heard a lot of things breaking and some yelling, so just wanted to make sure you’re alive.” he nods, his hair bouncing slightly and for a moment he really looks like a big puppy, eyes expectant and big as he waits for you to say something.

“oh, sorry,” you apologize, not even aware that you had been yelling but to be fair, you had been really sucked into the vision of getting to hit your ex with a hammer and make him as broken as you’d felt. “i was just taking out some anger on the old kitchen cabinets.”

he cocks his head to the side and again you find your mind drawing up another comparison to a puppy. you wonder if anyone’s ever told him that before.

“you’re taking out the cabinets?” he asks, almost seeming worried and you raise a brow.

“yeah,” you say, trying not to sound defensive and hoping he doesn’t have some sort of secret attachment to the fixtures. “they don’t fit the house and they barely functioned before.”

he shakes his head at your clarification and now it’s your own turn to tilt your head in confusion.

“you’re doing that by yourself? i thought i said you could ask for my help with heavy lifting,” he explains his worry and you don’t get a chance to respond before he’s starting to walk back to his house. “i’m gonna grab some gloves and another hammer,” he calls from your yard as you watch him go. “i’ll be right back.”

so you spent the afternoon destroying your kitchen with the neighbor you had vowed to stay away from only a few days before. to your credit, you did try to refuse his help, insisting that you could do it and telling him about the lack of a/c, but of course he stood firm, pointing out that he’d already made the effort to grab his own gloves and tools. maybe you’d met your match in terms of stubbornness.

“thank you,” you’d said with sincerity as you both sat on the floor of your now bare kitchen, open pizza box between you that you were regretting letting him pay for but, again, he had insisted. “there’s gotta be some way i can pay you back,” you said as you took another bite of your slice, eyes looking at the man across from you expectantly.

“well, i can think of one way,” he says, placing his half eaten slice on his plate and brushing off his hands.

you perk up at this, eager to know what you can do to make sure he knows how appreciative you are.

“let me take you out to dinner,” he suggests and you’re glad that you’re already sitting or your knees might have buckled and forced you to sit anyway.

opposites attract

⇀ paring hydrophobic!yeosang x lifeguard!reader

⇀ wc 2.2k

⇀ warnings slightly suggestive, he’s not literally hydrophobic he’s just a hater, mention of drowning, drinking alcohol (not you)

yeosang has spent every summer since he could remember avoiding the one place his friends had managed to finally persuade him into visiting, the local water park.

now it’s not that he was deathly afraid of being in the water, in fact his parents told him that he used to love swimming as a toddler, but he just didn’t see the appeal of anything that swimming and pools had to offer. the hot ass sun forcing you to reapply sunscreen every few hours, the screaming children that would make your head pound, the gross water that had surely seen every bodily fluid, and, worst of all, the annoying ass lifeguards that yeosang just knew were judging everyone with their hypercritical stares.

“you need some vitamin d,” wooyoung says, rubbing in the sunscreen he’d just put onto his arms until the cream had become sheer. “you can’t just sit in front of your computer every day.”

yeosang scowls as his best friend passes him the sunscreen, hesitantly squeezing some of it onto his legs.

“especially if you’re trying to get back into dating,” san adds as he removes his shirt, tossing it onto the picnic table the group had claimed.

“who’s dating?” yunho asked as he joined the group, setting his bag down and pushing his sunglasses up to sit on top of his head, ready to apply sunscreen onto his face when yeosang passed the bottle to him.

“yeosang,” wooyoung says as he shoves his flip flops off, leaving them where they lay and stretching his arms above his head.

“you’re dating someone?” yunho questions, eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“not yet,” san answers for him just as yeosang opens his mouth and he gives san an annoyed look.

“hey boys!”

suddenly, all three of yeosang’s friends are lighting up as they turn toward the source of the voice unfamiliar to him. each of them perks up as they return the greeting of the stranger, a lifeguard that was headed in the direction of yeosang and his friends.

“y/n!” san calls your name excitedly as you approach, stopping just outside of the shadow from the umbrella attached to the table.

“i didn’t know you were working today,” yunho says, finishing up his sunscreen application as he smiles brightly at you.

yeosang tries not to let his nerves show on his face as his eyes flick between you and his friends, always a little on edge when meeting new people but especially when that new person is particularly attractive. you’re wearing what he assumes is the typical uniform, a pair of short red swim trunks that show off your legs and a tight white tank top that leaves little to the imagination. he tries to resist the urge to let his eyes roam over the skin that’s exposed by your uniform, glowing from the summer sun, and instead he focuses on your face, shaded by the red visor you wear but expression as bright as though you’re channeling the beams from the sky above you. yeosang is tempted to bask in their warmth as your gaze flicks over to him but instead he looks away, trying to look busy as he rummages through his bag for nothing.

“sua called off today,” you explain, “so here i am.” you shrug as you gesture around yourself.

“oh, this is yeosang,” san speaks up with a harsh slap to his friends shoulder and yeosang flinches away from the touch before shoving san’s hand off.

“yeosang, this is y/n,” wooyoung provides, sliding toward you, “our favorite lifeguard.”

at his statement you reach up to pinch at wooyoung’s cheek, giving it a little shake as you let out a coo, “aw. i would say you’re my favorite patrons but i’m not in the habit of lying.” you chuckle lightly as wooyoung swats your hand away from his face with a pout.

“nice to meet you yeosang,” you greet him easily, nodding slightly and he’s thankful you didn’t reach out to shake his hand.

“you too,” he lies, not at all happy to meet someone who chooses to torture themselves out in the heat as a job.

“okay, well i’ve got to continue making my rounds, just wanted to say hi,” you explain as you back away from the group, headed back on the main path next to the pool you’re all closest to. “if you guys are staying for night swim i’m gonna be stationed at the wave pool so feel free to come chat.”

night swim, the only reason yeosang agreed to come. the local park had an adult only, alcohol provided, swim night that they hosted every other week. they would close down the more dangerous parts of the park, like the deep ends of the pools and the giant water slides, and just let people chill out in things like the wave pool and even go on the kiddie slides.

yeosang had agreed for the alcohol and the offer to be able to sit at the edge of the pool while his friends enjoyed trying not to drown as they wrested in the water. unfortunately he was not aware he would be dragged to the park while the sun was still out or when his friends were going to be chatting up the cute lifeguard the whole time, and he is an adult so he can admit you’re cute.

“you good?” yunho asks, noticing yeosang staring after you. the latter hadn’t even noticed he’d been looking straight at your butt as you retreated until his friend snapped him from his thoughts and he hoped he could blame the redness on his cheeks being the summer heat.

“yeah, yeah,” yeosang nodded finally pulling his arm out of his bag as he tried to anticipate what the group was about to pressure him to do.

he really did try to fight to just stay under the umbrella until the sun set but of course wooyoung needed him to go down the slides with him before they closed for the night and yunho had to show him the lazy river before it would be crowded with other drunk people and san demanded to go off the diving boards together before the deep end was off limits. so, because yeosang is a good friend, and his friends were extremely annoying when they whined, he did all of it. he honestly wasn’t as upset about the situation as he thought he might be, even finding himself sometimes enjoying the whole affair, but he would never admit that, he had a reputation to uphold.

lucky for yeosang and his reputation, the afternoon went by quickly and families with their sticky children trickled out as the sun set behind the horizon, initiating the start of night swim. of course as soon as he and his friends had finished their first drink and started sipping on their second yunho was quick to remind them about you over at the wave pool.

“i think i’m just gonna go back to the lazy river,” yeosang said with a jerk of his thumb toward the stack of intertubes behind himself.

“what why?” san asks, slipping his towel back off his shoulders.

“the lazy river is packed,” yunho adds, eyebrows scrunched as he looks over at it before turning to look at the wave pool that’s comparably more deserted.

wooyoung on the other hand has been paying a little too much attention to his best friend, noticing how yeosang’s eyes would flit over to you whenever you passed them during the day, and his lips curl up into the smile he always wears when he’s messing with someone. “i’m sure y/n would love to get to know you,” wooyoung grins, eyebrows wiggling before he sends yeosang a dramatic wink.

san’s mouth quickly forms an o as he realizes what wooyoung is implying and yunho just rolls his eyes at their antics, however neither are helping as wooyoung wraps his fingers around yeosang’s wrist and starts tugging him in the direction of the wave pool.

he can do nothing as he approaches the pool, not really in the mood to make a scene even if he could feel his heart climbing into his throat with every step that led them closer to you.

once the group is in sight you wave, sat on the edge of the pool with a float tube on your lap and feet dangling in the water. both of the lifeguard chairs are occupied and yeosang assumes that, because of the alcohol involved and the shutting down of half the park, lifeguards are double booked at the open areas, another lifeguard sat opposite you on the other side of the wave pool.

you smile brightly as wooyoung drags yeosang toward the edge of the pool, san and yunho shuffling behind. the latter two boys easily step into the water, not too interested in being involved in whatever scheme wooyoung has cooked up. wooyoung however ignores the pool in favor of sidling up right next to you.

you have to crane your neck to look up at the boys and yeosang moves his head to look at the water, feeling like a little kid as wooyoung still hasn’t let go of his wrist and does the talking for him.

“hey,” wooyoung greets you easily. “yeosang’s not a fan of the wave pool. do you mind if he sits with you while we swim?”

it’s not an entire lie, this spot being yeosang’s least favorite in the whole park, but he’s not too interested in sitting next to you in silence while his friends laugh at him. he knows it will be silent because he’s certainly not confident enough to start conversation, plus you have a whole job to do, and he’s certain his friends will be laughing at him because they’ve already noticed his attraction to you.

“sure,” you agree, to a bit of shock from yeosang, and pat the concrete next to you, shifting the tube on your lap so that it’s not in the way.

“great!” wooyoung declares but yeosang certainly doesn’t agree as he gets shoved to the spot you patted and a harsh push on his shoulder encourages him to take a seat. “have fun,” wooyoung adds before he’s scurrying off to join yunho and san.

there’s barely enough time to process that his best friend has abandoned him before you’re speaking up.

“so, not a fan of the wave pool,” you prompt and yeosang spares a glance at you.

you’re still looking over the pool, scanning for any danger or situations to whistle at people about.

“uh yeah,” he answers plainly, placing the cup he’s surprised didn’t spill during wooyoung’s tugging on the ground between you two. “i mean, don’t really like water parks in general so,” he explains with a shrug, venturing to put one of his legs into the edge of the pool, the other still tucked underneath him.

“really?” you ask like you’re actually surprised, like you’ve never actually met someone that didn’t like a water park, but based on your profession he’s sure you probably don’t often run into people who don’t frequent any pool.

he doesn’t answer, just shrugging once more as he watches the way the water ripples whenever he shifts his foot under the water.

“any particular reason?” you ask and yeosang ventures another glance at you, this time making eye contact with him as you’ve turned your head to face him. “i mean you don’t seem to be scared of water or anything,” you say as you gesture toward his leg that hangs off the ledge.

instead of returning to hold your float tube you place the hand you’d used on the concrete, leaning toward yeosang just slightly and he can smell a hint of the sunscreen you’d been reapplying through the day as well as something that he assumes is a cologne or perfume you must of sprayed on during your break. it makes his brain feel a bit fuzzy as you tilt your head at him, waiting for an answer.

“uh, i don’t know.” he can practically hear wooyoung judging his bland response and tries to rack his brain for anything else to say. “just don’t find it interesting i guess.”

you hum in acknowledgment, nodding slowly as you observe yeosang and even though the hot sun went down over an hour ago he feels like he might melt.

“so there’s nothing specific about it you hate?” you pry, taking another quick glance over the pool to make sure no one drowned when you weren’t looking before you return your gaze to the man beside you.

yeosang reaches out for his drink and realizes a moment too late how close your hand is to the cup, his fingers brushing against your warm skin and causing a tingle to shoot up his arm. you don’t mention the contact but yeosang swears he sees the corner of your mouth tick up as he takes a swig of his beverage, placing the cup on the other side of himself once he’s swallowed.

“no secret hate for lifeguards or anything right?” you continue to interrogate him, a teasing tone seeping into your words.

he could mention how he thinks you’re all overbearing and judgemental but he’s not sure that would work in his favor right now considering you don’t seem to actually be all that bad.

“no,” he says with a shake of his head, eyes not leaving your own.

at that your smile seems to grow, eyes holding a sparkle of something yeosang can’t quite read.

“good,” you respond, “because that would make asking you out a lot harder.”

marriage pact

⇀ paring ex best friend!san x heartbroken!reader

⇀ wc 1.1k

⇀ warnings therapy mentions/appointment, previous heartbreak, reader feels a lot of guilt, reader cries, cursing

you wish, with everything in your power, that you could reverse time, or maybe just knock some sense into your 14 year old self, and maybe you technically could, if you only shoved everything back in the shoebox and put it back on the shelf. then it would sit where it had for years before, except instead of dust, it would collect guilt, your guilt, every time you passed and remembered what was in it. your high school diary, a few birthday cards, notes with ink so faded the words were indecipherable, a paper clipped stack of photo booth strips, and one intact copy of the marriage pact you’d made with your best friend choi san, well, your high school best friend. why did you have to find it now, just as you’re reaching the age which you’d either need to be already married or fulfill your half of the contract by saying “i do”?

you think for a moment that you could simply throw out the entire box, but you’re too sentimental for that, it’s why the box had been with you so long in the first place, but now the memories, that should have been happily contained, have come to seep back into your life and the heartbreak taints every single one.

you could throw away just the pact, but your trash stinks enough already and you can practically hear the voice of your therapist telling you how it’s just an opportunity, an excuse, to reach out and maybe mend something that’s been broken for so long.

damn her for being right all the time.

and so you call, hoping his number is still the same or you’ll have wasted all your worrying for nothing. there’s nothing to indicate it’s his voicemail box, the generic computer voice reading out it’s typical prompt, but you might as well. if it’s a wrong number they’ll simply never call you back and you’ll go on with your life, as best you can.

“hey, i’m not sure if this is the right number. i’m trying to reach choi san. i’m-“ you pause for a moment, trying to figure out how to describe yourself. “i’m an old friend,” you settle on. “so, yeah. if you can give me a call back, i just needed,” you pause again. did you need to? maybe you should’ve written a script just in case. “wanted,” you amend, “to talk.” you pause again, wondering how you should end before the line beeps, signaling it’s been ended for you.

at your appointment the next day, your therapist seems proud, even as you try to change the subject, work around your feelings. she manages, as she always does, to steer you back on track, approach your emotions head on, and as she makes you recount the memories, and sensations, attached to the items in the shoebox, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. your first instinct is to silence it and so you do, barely registering the action before you’re sucked back into your session. only after you’ve penciled in your next meeting do you register that you’d sent a call to voicemail.

“hi y/n,” he starts easily and his voice has the hair on the back of your neck rising.

“i’m sorry i missed your call yesterday,” and he sounds genuinely apologetic. “i actually wanted to talk to you too i was just really busy until right now. i’m free for the rest of the day, so if you get a chance call me back. lo-“ your breath hitches at his mistake, forcing you to realize how shallowly you’d been inhaling the entirety of the message. “bye,” he concludes, an emptiness in his tone, before the message ends.

as you sit in your car, still in the parking lot of your therapist’s office, you remember that you had intentionally left out your name when leaving your message and that even after all these years, all this time apart, he can still recognize you by your voice alone, no matter how garbled by phone speaker quality.

you toss around the idea of waiting until you get back to your place to call but you can feel the nerves starting to tangle your stomach and are certain that you’ll have talked yourself out of it by the time you would get there. instead, you call back.

he picks up on the second ring.

“hi.”

he sounds like he’s smiling and you hope that’s a good sign, not an indication that he’s about to laugh at you and tell you to fuck off.

“hi,” you breath in response, probably a little pathetic.

“you wanted to talk?” he supplies and if you could get out of your own head you might pin the statement as sounding a bit teasing, maybe even a hint flirty, but you can barely register anything when everything you’ve wanted to say for the past few years is suddenly all mingling at the front of your consciousness.

“uh yeah,” you confirm plainly, trying to will your mouth to create any other sound.

as if he can sense your distress, just as he always had, san speaks up for you and says the words that had settled on the back of your tongue, “do you remember that pact we made when we were 14?”

in the moment you feel like it’s the right thing to say but as soon as the words are out of your mouth you anticipate the moments you’ll lie awake at night berating yourself for them.

“i love you and i’m sorry i made you hate me.”

you feel like you’re waiting for the storm to finally hit as your words are met with pregnant silence, san’s breath on the other end of the line as clear as if he were sat in your passenger seat, and for a moment you allow yourself to imagine just that.

“i never hated you,” he says with clear exasperation, seemingly surprised. “have you thought i’ve hated you this whole time?”

you nod shakily before remembering that he can’t see you and muttering a broken, “yes.”

“i’m so sorry,” he acknowledges before shushing you gently, and only at the sound of his comfort do you realize that you had started sobbing.

you try to calm yourself, your heavy breaths pacifying into watery hiccups as san eases you back from your sudden emotional release.

“can i tell you something?” san says after a moment and you nod once again before chuckling at yourself and verbally confirming he can.

“i love you too,” he says with an ease that almost makes you jealous. “so can we talk more about that pact?”

love at first sight

⇀ paring clumsy!mingi x er nurse!reader

⇀ wc 1.9k

⇀ warnings lots of eye talk, hospital setting

it was well known in the er that the full moon night shift was bound to be chaotic, something about the energy of the phase making people feel like they’re invincible and leading them to accidents that seemed next to impossible to occur. even if you weren’t superstitious about any of that astrological stuff, you couldn’t ignore the evidence as this night, like every full moon before it, brought you a plethora of patients that each had a problem more severe or strange than the last. you were quickly running out of beds and soon you’d run out of space in the waiting room as you noticed another person entering through the sliding glass doors.

“this is the busiest i’ve ever seen it,” chae, the triage nurse stationed at the front desk says as you move past her to the file folder, ready to grab the next patient to take back. she was new to the emergency department, a sweetheart who’d done all her clinicals in your pediatrics department and therefore had never seen the full moon effect.

“your first full moon,” you note, digging through the file folder to pull out the next one and look at the name. “you’re doing great,” you note with a gentle pat on her shoulder.

she smiles at you appreciatively before turning to address the patient quickly approaching the desk.

you take a glance into the file in your hands. “painful eyes, difficulty seeing. possible hazardous material in eyes,” the intake form reads and you sigh. what does “possible” mean in this situation?

“song mingi,” you call out into the waiting area and a rather tall man, eyes shut tightly, pops up from his seat immediately, another shorter man following suit and reaching out a hand to stabilize the taller as he stumbles. they both make their way to you, the shorter guiding the taller so he doesn’t bump into anyone or anything on his way.

“mingi?” you ask gesturing toward the one who clearly is having eye problems while looking at the other, seemingly fine, man and he only nods.

“i’m his brother, hongjoong,” the shorter one says and they don’t seem to resemble each other very much but you think nothing of it, more interested in treating your patient, who appears to be in quiet a bit of pain, then anything else.

“you can both follow me,” you say, scanning your badge to open the door and moving just slower than you might normally to allow hongjoong to lead mingi.

once you arrive to one of the empty rooms hongjoong guides mingi to sit on the bed, muttering about how stupid he is, before taking a seat himself on one of the plastic chairs off to the side.

you pay no mind to the muffled communication of the men as you place mingi’s folder onto the counter next to the sink and move to start taking his vitals. they both go silent as you wrap the blood pressure cuff around his arm, clipping the pulse oximeter onto his finger as well.

all of his vitals come back normal, only slightly elevated, as expected, because of the stress and pain, and you note them onto his chart.

“so what did you do to your eyes,” you ask as you go to remove the blood pressure cuff.

“uh well,” mingi starts his voice strained with a mix of pain and embarrassment, “i was trying to scare my friend and he was, uh, holding air freshener.”

you resist the urge to roll your eyes as you assume what happened next in his story.

“okay,” you say with a nod, putting the cuff you’d removed back in the basket and taking down notes on his chart. “did you try rinsing your eyes?”

he swallows thickly, his adams apple bobbing, and you let out a silent sigh as you prepare for whatever else must have went wrong.

“we tried,” he says a little shakily, “but the bottle must have had leftover cleaner or something in it.”

of course it did. you hold yourself back from asking how or why and glance at hongjoong who looks as exasperated as you feel, eyes closed and fingers massaging his temples.

“so you don’t know what the cleaner was?” you ask and mingi shakes his head, wincing as he squeezes his eyes tighter.

“can i take a look at your eyes?” you ask as you set down his chart, grabbing the pen light out of your scrub pocket.

“uh sure,” he says but you can hear the hesitation once again.

“okay, i’m going to hold your eye open for a second,” you explain, adjusting the bed so that his eyes are level with your own. “i’m going to shine a light into them just so i can make sure there’s no debris and they’re dilating properly.”

he gulps again and you know that he’s preparing for it to be painful.

“okay,” he says, a little more determined, and you place your fingers on his eyelid, starting with his left eye.

you try to move as quickly as you can, not wanting it to be too painful, but his hurt grunts are still audible as you check both eyes. fortunately, they’re dilating fine and you can’t see any damage or debris.

“they look alright,” you note aloud, slipping the light back in your pocket and writing more on his chart. “let’s just get your eyes properly flushed and some antibiotic drops in there, then we can see how they’re doing.”

mingi’s shoulders relax a little at this and you start to make your way toward the door, heading out to grab the irrigation tubing and kidney dish as well as ask another nurse to prepare the drops you’ll need.

“will he need to stay overnight?” hongjoong asks as you open the door and you turn back to him.

“we’ll want to keep him for at least an hour after we administer the drops to make sure that nothing gets worse but if he’s cleared up by then you’ll be able to go,” you explain and hongjoong nods as you leave.

flushing his eyes takes a moment as he fights to close his eyes a lot during the process, which is understandable, but the eye drops are worse, managing to get his eyes closed right before the solution hits his eyeball no matter how well you manage to hold his eye lids. eventually, with the help of another nurse holding his lids while you administer the drops, you manage to give him the proper dosage and leave him to check on another patient. you promise to return in an hour and instruct both men on how to use the nurse call button in case anything happens before then.

“he’s kind of cute,” chae, now munching on a granola bar as she takes her break behind the nurse’s station, says as you approach. “in like a himbo way,” she elaborates when you raise a brow at her, only shrugging as she take another bite.

you shake your head in slight disappointment. “he’s my patient,” you say. “i’m not really focused on how attractive he is.”

“so you agree he’s attractive,” chae chimes, peeking up for a moment before you roll your eyes.

“i’m not doing this with you again,” is your only response, moving past her to continue with your work.

an hour later you knock gently on the door of mingi’s room before entering to find hongjoong still in the plastic chair, phone in hand as he scrolls, and mingi asleep on the bed, the heartbeat monitor beeping quietly. you take that as a good sign.

“hello,” you greet hongjoong before you move toward the bed, preparing to wake your patient.

hongjoong greets you in return, tucking his phone away so he can pay attention to what you’re doing.

you take a brief glance at the heartbeat and oxygen monitor, noticing that his vitals are normal before taping mingi on the shoulder with enough force to jostle him awake. he grunts slightly before stretching, eyes scrunching up for a moment before they blink open.

“good morning,” you say with a teasing grin and mingi turns to face you.

suddenly the beeping of the monitor that had been steady and slow before is increasing rapidly and your head whips to look at it with surprise.

“you don’t have a heart condition do you?” you ask with concern, brows furrowing as you turn back to look at mingi once again.

his face and ears are bright red and his eyes go wide before he sits up with a start. “uh no, i don’t,” he rushes out, his words shaky as he lowers his gaze to his hands that now sit in his lap, messing with the clip on his pointer finger as though he wants to remove it.

“is everything okay?” you ask with genuine concern. “what’s wrong?”

mingi clears his throat and keeps his gaze firmly focused on his hands as he answers, “nothing. i just- you’re really cute.”

“oh my god,” you hear hongjoong huff in disbelief before his face drops into his hand, eyes covered in what you can only assume is embarrassment.

now it’s your turn to blush, a heat creeping onto your cheeks as you try to calm your own heart.

“oh,” you breathe, trying to collect your thoughts and remain professional. “thank you,” you say quickly before you hurry to take the clip off his finger, ignoring the heat of his skin against your own as your hand brushes his own.

“how are your eyes?” you ask, your own gaze moving about the room sheepishly.

“good,” he chirps, voice cracking slightly.

“good,” you mirror with a sharp nod. “i’m, uh, going to write you a prescription for antibiotic drops and just use those twice a day for the next two weeks,” you say, returning to business. “just come back if they get worse.”

mingi nods, still not looking at you and you clear your throat.

“thank you,” hongjoong says for mingi, and you nod in response.

you leave as quickly as you can, eager to be rid of the weird energy that had been created in the room. luckily your shift is close to over and one of the other nurse practitioners catches the way you’re acting a bit weird as you file the prescription, telling you to go home early and she’ll cover for you. you fight for a moment before finally giving in and deciding to make a quick stop at the 24-hour convenience store on the way home.

“oh!” a familiar voice snaps you out of your thoughts about which late night snack to pick and you turn quickly to see none other than song mingi standing before you, a look of surprise on his face as he looks at you.

“hi,” you squeak, just as surprised.

you feel your blush from earlier returning and turn back to face the shelf you’d been browsing.

“i’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable before,” mingi says, keeping his distance but not looking away from you.

you shake your head and glance at him for a moment. “oh no,” you reassure, “i just wasn’t prepared.” you let out a slightly nervous laugh.

mingi hums thoughtfully and nods slowly, taking an experimental step toward you.

“could i ask you something?” he requests and you turn to face him fully.

“sure,” you reply with a gentle shrug.

“let me know if i’m overstepping,” he begins, eyes flicking from yours to the shelf of snacks and back, “but could i get your number?”

enemies to lovers

⇀ paring chef!wooyoung x host!reader

⇀ wc 2.1k

⇀ warnings wooyoung is mean, discussion of food and eating, mentions of bullying in high school

so maybe your job wasn’t the worst, and most of your coworkers were pretty manageable, but wooyoung, he’s what made it unbearable at times. you’d already asked your manager to be scheduled for when he wasn’t, but he’d explained that you were the best one up front and he was the best in the kitchen, so of course you’re both going to be scheduled during the restaurant’s busiest times. “plus maybe it will force you two to work out whatever’s wrong.”

what your manager didn’t account for was that there was no working out what was wrong, considering it had been nothing that you were aware of. wooyoung had simply looked at you on your first day and decided he hated you. could you have asked why? of course, but you’re not sure he would have told you because to every question you asked him he would simply huff and roll his eyes, telling you to ask someone else.

his little act had quickly gotten on your nerves and so you were fast to return his disdain, deciding that his uncalled for behavior was enough of a reason to hate him.

“you know, if you just talked to him you could make everyone’s lives just a little bit easier,” soonha, you’re favorite waitress, says as she unties her apron and makes sure all her pens are organized in the pockets before placing it in her locker.

she’d been listening to you complain about everything wooyoung had done during your shift that had pissed you off, from as small as walking in a minute late to the way he’d complained about you blocking his path when you were eating a snack in an empty corner of the kitchen, a spot you’d chosen because it was specifically out of the way. of course the worst had been when he’d sided with a patron that was lying about their wait time, almost getting you in trouble with the manager on duty before you actually showed her the patron’s check-in timer.

“he’s the one with the problem,” you scoff, pushing your arms through the sleeves of your jacket. “he should be the one talking to me. you know he didn’t even apologize today.”

soonha only rolls her eyes, shutting her locker before a look of surprise takes over her features and she’s whipping around to you.

“oh my gosh, i totally forgot i told kay that i would restock her citruses,” the waitress says, pulling out what you can assume is a list from the bartender, kay, of the number of lemons, limes, and oranges that needed to be brought up to the bar.

“hey let me do that,” you say, grabbing the slip of paper from her hand.

“are you sure?” she says, although the way she glances at the back door tells you that she’s not too attached to the task.

“of course,” you reassure. “you’ve got the baby at home, go,” you encourage her and she’s basically running out the back door.

“they’re just in cold storage,” she reminds you quickly as the door shuts behind her and you chuckle with a gentle shake of your head in amusement.

the task is easy enough, grabbing a small empty cardboard box from the deserted kitchen as you make your way to the walk-in refrigerator, noticing that the kitchen staff all appear to have left for the night and thanking whatever higher power was watching over you for not making you the last person in the restaurant with wooyoung.

it’s been a while since you’d actually been inside cold storage, your job description not calling for it unless you were being an extra hand for bartending, although that was something that most of your staff asked the waiters for. this mostly meant that you couldn’t remember if it was normal for the door to click like that when it closed behind you. obviously that didn’t matter much anyway and so you just continue with the task at hand, searching for wherever kitchen staff had put citruses when they were rearranging.

as you’re reaching above your head to grab a handful of lemons to place in your trusty cardboard box the door to cold storage is suddenly cracking open, nearly causing you to have a heart attack as you’d believed you were the last person in the building. to your dismay, in walks the last person you’d probably ever want to see, possibly even over some robber interested in making off with your cold stock, wooyoung. he takes a moment before he registers that it’s you and the familiar scowl takes over his features, adjusting the large box in his arms.

you try to appear unaffected by his presence, taking a breath to calm your racing heart at the shock from a moment ago and turning back to counting your lemons. you sigh as you realize he must have been in dry storage when you passed through the kitchen and curse yourself for getting your hopes up about this task being easy.

the door makes that same click as it closes behind him but you don’t hear wooyoung react, moving to the shelf right behind you and standing with his back only inches from your own. the box he’s holding makes a soft thump as it hits the ground and you clearly hear the tape ripping off the top. from what you can tell he seems to be placing whatever was in the box into the crate on the shelf behind you and you’re trying so hard not to pay attention to him as you continue your own job.

soon enough your little box is filled with the correct number of fruits, you even double checked your counting, and you turn to leave the fridge as wooyoung starts to breakdown his now empty box. however, you don’t get very far, the door not budging when you place pressure against the handle.

you let out a huff as you place your box down and grab the handle with both hands. when the door still doesn’t move you lean your shoulder against it, trying to use your body weight to leverage the thing open.

“what are you doing?”

you feel your skin prickle at his voice, obviously annoyed with whatever antics he thinks you’re up to now, and you turn around as slowly as you can manage, face blank.

“the door is stuck,” you explain and wooyoung’s face scrunches up in response before he’s moving toward you.

“move,” he demands and you slide off to the side before he can place his hand on your shoulder to move you himself.

of course he’d taken off his chef coat, leaving him in just his white undershirt and black slacks, and you resist the urge to watch his arms as he gives a harsh push to the door. unfortunately for the both of you, his shoving is just as successful as yours was and you roll your eyes at him.

“what the fuck did you do?” he says, turning to you with anger painting his features.

if you didn’t hate him you might have found him slightly attractive now, gaze dark and sharp as he looked right through you, but he had some vendetta against you and therefore you had one against him.

“me?” you say in disbelief. “why do you think i had something to do with this?”

he scoffs and it’s probably a sound you would be able to identify in your sleep at this point, having heard it so often.

“you always do,” he mutters and you don’t know what to say in response, opting instead to just roll your eyes once more and chalking it up to whatever mystery grudge he’s holding against you.

“whatever, i’ll just call-“ you cut yourself off as you dig your hands into your jacket pockets and realize that your phone is still sat inside of your open locker in the break room. “never mind,” you mumble as you pull your hands from your pockets and decide to just take a seat on the chilly floor.

“right,” wooyoung says looking down at you with one eyebrow raised before he’s pulling his own phone from his pocket.

you’re barely listening as he speaks with whoever he calls, only picking out a few words here and there as you start to realize the predicament you’re in. of all the people to be trapped with.

“mingyu should be here in half an hour or so,” wooyoung tells you before he joins you on the floor, sitting across from you. “he told us not to kill each other in the meantime.”

you just flick your eyes up to him, your expression passive, before you go back to counting the floor tiles.

you’re not sure you’ll survive until help arrives, the first minute going by in a silence that feels like it’s crawling along your skin, threatening to eat you whole. by the second minute you’ve counted all the tiles on the floor that you can see five times and have moved onto counting the crates behind wooyoung. maybe you can go through and count the things in the crates next.

“what are you doing?”

you’re tempted not to answer him but you have a feeling he’ll ask again and the only thing worse than loosing count once is loosing count twice.

“counting,” you say plainly, starting with the crates again, however, you don’t even get close to where you’d left off last time when he speaks again.

“well, stop,” he says and you make sure he sees your look of confusion and annoyance. “you’re making me paranoid,” he elaborates and you just huff, turning you head so that he’s no longer in your line of sight.

“why do you hate me?”

you immediately don’t want to hear the answer and you whip your head back to him, worry on your features as you prepare to take it back.

except you don’t take it back, his face painted with bewilderment causing you to pause. he looks as though he can’t understand why you would ask, as though the answer was written on his forehead and you should simply be able to read it.

“are you trying to tell me you don’t remember?” he asks, and it’s the first time you can recall him being genuine with you.

you shake your head with a similar look of confusion.

“high school,” he supplies as though it will jog your memory.

the only problem is that it doesn’t, you didn’t go to high school with wooyoung, in fact you didn’t go to high school with anyone you work with, because you only moved to the area after graduating.

“wooyoung,” you start as you watch his features begin to soften, “the first time i met you was here, on my first day.”

he shakes his head with force, like he’s trying to convince himself.

“you were in that group, with miri, that always laughed at me,” he continues in disbelief, continuing to ramble about this group of bullies, and you feel your heart sink.

“wooyoung,” you repeat to catch his attention and he silenced himself. “i didn’t go to high school with you.”

you watch as his shoulders, which had lifted with every word that had come out of his mouth only moments ago, drop back down and he pales, eyes wide as he really sees you for the first time.

“i’m sorry,” he says, his eyes filled with regret as he remembers every little thing he’s done to make your life at work a living hell for as long as you’ve worked here. “i’m so, so sorry.”

“honestly,” you begin, processing everything that’s happened within the last few minutes, “if i thought someone i worked with was my high school bully, i would probably do the same things you did,” you say with a chuckle and you can see a blush start to tint wooyoung’s cheeks.

there’s a moment of quiet, one that feels like the polar opposite of the silence you sat in before, and you feel like you can clearly see the gears turning inside of wooyoung’s mind.

“did you eat dinner?” he asks finally, looking at you expectantly.

you just shake your head and watch as a bashful grin makes its way onto his face.

“can we start over?” he suggests. “i can make us something,” he adds, not oblivious to the way the other chefs had bribed you with food in the past. “after mingyu saves us, of course.”

right on cue you can hear someone puttering around in the kitchen, heading your way.

“sure,” you nod gently, a soft grin on your face, as wooyoung stands, offering his hand to you.

brother’s best friend

⇀ paring soccer player!jongho x sports photographer!reader

⇀ wc 1.8k

⇀ warnings cat-calling, jongho punches somebody, cursing, implications of harassment

you’d had a crush on your older brother’s best friend, jongho, for as long as you could remember, a secret that you’d kept to yourself just as long. unfortunately, within the last few years it had gotten much more difficult to hide this little fact, partly due to the fact that you’d managed to become best friends with probably the worst secret keeper on your college campus but, mostly because you were forced by your job to interact with him more than ever.

you were one of the student sports photographers on campus, assigned to photograph the men’s soccer team in the fall, a team which jongho and your brother were apart of. that was how they met in middle school, your brother the school’s goalie while jongho played midfield, and you hadn’t known peace since. of course you loved being able to pursue your passion and get paid for it, but with each game that you had to attend it was becoming more and more difficult to focus on your job.

jongho had grown a lot during the summer before his freshman year, the training for the team intense but rewarding, and suddenly you weren’t the only one with a more than platonic interest in the boy. by sophomore year, he was a star player, attracting the attention of those who weren’t even interested in soccer, or any sport for that matter. people would start to come to games just to see jongho sweaty and focused. now, as you and jongho began your junior years, your brother a senior, your jealousy was starting to peak.

“don’t act like you wouldn’t do the same if it wasn’t your job,” billie, your best friend and roommate, said as you threw another dirty look to the group of girls that had been shouting jongho’s name every five seconds.

you’d been complaining to her about all the attention on jongho, openly admitting your jealousy as she’d managed to pry the information of your crush out of you last year.

“i wouldn’t scream his name and distract him from his game,” you bite, bringing the viewfinder back up to your eye and following the ball as someone on the opposing team threw it back into play.

your job required you to attend every soccer game, and the occasional practice, to get shots for the campus newspaper and website. billie had started to tag along as your assistant at the beginning of this semester, claiming to just be happy to hang out with you even if she wasn’t getting paid, totally not because she had a crush on your brother or anything.

“right,” billie says with a nod, adjusting the strap of your camera bag on her shoulder, “because you can get his attention without all the drama.”

your best friend had gotten some weird idea in her head that jongho was secretly in love with you, an idea that had prompted her to dig into your feelings for jongho in the first place. you tried not to listen, not wanting to let her feed any sort of delusion that you and jongho were somehow possible.

“you know, when you said you would be my assistant, i thought you meant like helping me, not being annoying,” you say sarcastically, snapping a few pictures as your attacking midfielder managed to get control of the ball.

“maybe you’re being annoying,” billie pouts in response. “i’m just saying what i see.”

you resist the urge to roll your eyes, trying to focus on who has the ball and what moments to capture.

“am i not an objective party?” she asks and you have no idea where she’s heading with this argument. “you’ve known him for years and so you’re set that he doesn’t see you that way. i’m a fresh set of eyes to tell you the truth!”

you scoff at her. “you said yourself i’ve known him for years, wouldn’t that mean i know him better? so i know that he’s not interested?” you argue, players surrounding the ball and crowding your lens.

“you’re biased,” she says with a sense of finality and you pull your camera away from your face, deciding to glance through some of the pictures you’d just taken to see if you needed to adjust any of your settings. the lighting had changed a bit since the beginning of the game.

“yeah,” you agree after a moment, “and you’re a hopeless romantic.”

you turn and trek around down the field, looking for a new angle. you hear billie running after you, your camera bag bouncing against her hip gently and you remind yourself to at least buy her dinner after this as thanks for following you around for 90 minutes.

just as you both reach the other side of the field, the referee is blowing a whistle to signal the start of halftime and you sigh, glad to already be on the side of the field where the players benches are. you weren’t required to get pictures of players on the bench or any of the team huddled, but you liked to. they made good shots to advertise the team pride and allowed everyone to have professional pictures, even if they didn’t play in that game.

“hey y/n, hey billie,” you brother says as he passes you both, jogging toward the bench to grab his water and take a rest.

billie lights up and waves as he passes, you only roll your eyes, following after your brother to get closer to the bench.

“make sure you get my left, it’s my best side,” one of the players, hojin, says jokingly as you snap a wide shot of all the players sat on the bench.

you chuckle lightly, enjoying your banter with the players, as you continue to get a few more wide angles.

“what’s your name sexy?” you hear someone call behind you and turn to see one of the players of the opposing team looking right at you.

you don’t say anything for a moment, kind of shocked that anyone on the opposing team was talking to you as that had never happened before. you recognized him as their center midfielder, opposite jongho for a majority of the game.

“none of you business!” billie calls back for you, linking her arm with your own and pulling you closer to your team.

the guy doesn’t seem all that discouraged at first, sending you a wink before his eyes flick to something, or someone, behind you and his face drops.

you turn around just in time to see your brother sitting back on the bench, features sharp, and jongho turning to look at their coach, anger clear on his face.

you try not to think anything of it, knowing that your brother and jongho were naturally very protective, as billie tugs on your arm that’s still linked with hers.

“c’mon,” she says, “don’t forget to get your huddle shot.”

you try to return to business as normal once the game resumes, making sure to get a few key pictures that are always a hit for article features, but you’ve started to let your camera drift centerfield, toward jongho. except unlike other times this has happened it’s not simply because you’re being distracted by how handsome he looks. he’s started getting a bit aggressive with the player opposite him, the one that had called to you during halftime, and you watch through your lens as the player says something to jongho. whatever he said must have really upset jongho because just as you’re pulling away from the viewfinder he reels back and sends his fist right into the other guy’s face.

you feel your blood run cold as you watch the whole interaction unfold, a ref blowing the whistle sharply as he runs to centerfield. your brother, who had been on the bench, bolts for jongho, other players from both teams moving in to break up whatever is happening. somehow the other player manages to remain standing after the hit, stumbling back a bit, and jongho takes a few steps forward with a raised fist before your brother gets to him and pulls him back.

“what the actual fuck is wrong with you?” you hear your brother saying as he drags jongho toward the bench.

you hand billie your camera, telling her you’ve got enough for today and that she can just mess around with it before you stomp toward the bench yourself. your best friend sends you a slightly concerned, if not sympathetic, look as you leave but does as you say.

“are you crazy?” you say once you get to where jongho is sat, your brother popping a disposable ice pack and placing it onto his hand.

“if you’re here to lecture me i don’t need it,” jongho grunts. “i already know it was a bad idea.”

you scoff in disbelief as your eyebrows shoot up. “a bad idea? it was unbelievably stupid! what in the world would posses you to do something like that?”

jongho looks up at you for a moment, eyes blank, before looking at your brother who’s stood next to you, looking at his best friend expectantly.

“well?” you brother says, crossing his arms.

“some people should just keep their mouth shut,” jongho says looking down at his hand that’s covered by the ice pack and you scoff again, crossing your own arms.

“jongho,” you say sternly and he looks up at you again, eyes almost pleading for you not to press further. “i know you. this is not you.”

he shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant, before saying, “maybe it is.”

you sigh, sitting down next to jongho and placing a hand gently on top of his forearm.

“no it’s not,” you insist, much softer as you rub your thumb along his arm soothingly.

your own palm tingles at the sensation of his skin against yours but you can’t bring yourself to pull away.

jongho looks at your hand on him for a moment before glancing up at your face. after a moment he turns to where your brother is still standing and ticks his head in some sort of signal that has your brother patting jongho’s shoulder once before leaving you both.

“you asked if i was crazy,” jongho starts, turning to meet your slightly confused gaze. “i am crazy,” he says with a humorless laugh, “crazy for you.”

your thumb stops it’s movements as you freeze, wondering if you’re hearing him right.

“i couldn’t let him get away with what he was saying about you,” jongho explains. “i just snapped.”

you close your eyes, shaking your head like you’re trying to get rid of the thoughts clouding your judgement, before you ask, “can we go back to the part where you’re crazy?”

he chuckles again and you open your eyes to see a soft smile on his face.

“i’ve had the biggest, most embarrassing crush on you for years y/n,” he says, a blush dusting his cheeks.

your own lips curl into a smile as you reply, “that’s impossible because i’ve had the biggest, most embarrassing crush on you for years jongho.”

↼ ateez masterlist

note hope you enjoyed and these couples may be making a reappearance at some point in the future (also if you genuinely want to know the hangul just translates to “hey, where are you from”)

feedback always appreciated

[bloodredfountainpen]

Human Packbonding: Spontaneous Adoption

One of my favorite of the HASO tropes (specifically a sub trope of the human packbonding trope) is humans as the ultimate parents, specifically humans having the propensity to adopt random kids from bad situations. I love me some found family, sue me. Here’s a little three part (maybe more) diddy I wrote a while ago with this trope as the base.

Merc and Floof

Six months. I’ve been on this Odin-forsaken planet for six fucking months. It is a miserable existence, hunting monsters in the desert wasteland with no gratitude from the locals. The lords who hired me think their pitiful pay thanks enough, and the common folk resent me for being on the lord’s payroll. Not to mention the sandy terrain, beating heat, and oh yeah, the fucking monsters I’m killing. Once my contract is up, credits be damned, I’m getting out of here. I’d rather sleep on the streets than stay here any longer than physically possible.

… or at least that’s what I’d say if I didn’t have a husband and son to provide for. My mercenary work is the only thing keeping them fed, and as much as I’d like to go home to be with them, I know they can’t live off his teacher’s salary alone. Sometimes I think about abandoning my post and taking the next shuttle off planet, but those are just my intrusive thought speaking. Realistically, I’ll be staying on this planet for a few more years at least. Jesus titty fucking christ, If hell exists I am in it. Now, I know this sounds like I’m throwing myself a pity party here, but I assure you I’m not. I’m just telling it how it is.

The brooding mercenary was roused from his trance when a young Lycan tugged at his cloak. She was small, thin, and would be dangerously fluffy if not for the grime and sand caked into her fur. She was wearing what to any Terran would be easily identified as a potato sack but to the Lycan was a passable dress. She was shivering in the nighttime cold, breath nearly forming into steam before her, and yet, in perfect Terra Communis, she spoke.

“Um, ahem. My master, Lord Mokta, would like to formally invite you and a guest of your choice to dine with him and his wife in his estate in an hour. If you’ll please let me know your plan I’ll run it back to his lordship.”

“Master huh? What are you, some kind of slave?”

“Um no, not really. I’m an indentured servant for his lordship, my parents made the contract. I’ll be free once I can pay out the contract value or when I come of age, which ever comes first.”

“And how much do you get paid?”

“I don’t, I rely on the kindness of strangers like you.”

“That sounds a lot like slavery to me… So then, what’s the contract value?”

At this point, the mercenary’s interest had been piqued. He scarcely knew what he would with the information he would obtain, he only knew that his ravenous curiosity would be stated only once he knew.

“… it’s 50 credits sir.”

50 credits? Did he hear that right? Only 50 measly credits could buy this sweet girl’s freedom? He could afford to not eat for a few days if it meant this girl, whose name he didn’t even know, would get to go free. He pulled out a 50 cred stick and pressed it into the girl’s paws.

“That should cover it then, now how would you like to be my guest to Mokta’s dinner?”

Instead of simply accepting like the stoic mercenary expected, the girl burst into tears and fell to the ground. She sat there on her knees, hyperventilating, sobbing, and thanking the bewildered mercenary profusely. It was a sight to behold, and the mercenary was finding himself increasingly uncomfortable. He tried, unsuccessfully, to use words to quell the girl’s tears. This effort only exacerbated the storm of emotion and in the end, the mercenary wrapped the girl in his arms and let his heartbeat and breathing steady her own. Once she had calmed enough to be spoken to, the mercenary did so.

“So then, what is your answer? Will you or will you not accompany me? If we don’t get going now, we’ll be late.”

“Yes, I’d love to go with you! But are you sure my dress is ok?”

“If it’s good enough for his messenger, it’s good enough for his guest. Let’s get on then.”

It was quite the upset when the cloaked mercenary, sword at waist and ragged girl in tow, strode into the banquet hall. The Lycan with the fanciest robe, Lord Mokta the mercenary assumed, was especially outraged. He shouted to the mercenary.

“Human! Why aren’t you dressed properly?! This kind of disrespect would have you beheaded if you were my subject!”

“Good thing I’m not your subject then. I don’t own one of your fancy robes, nor any Terran formal wear. It was either my day cloak and ceremonial sword or my power armor and machine gun, which would you prefer?”

“I…, you…” he sputtered, “all right, just take your seat here. Messenger girl, get back to the quarters!”

“Wait now, she’s my guest. You did say I could have one guest, right?“

“Guest?! She’s my indenture and she will obey my commands!”

The mercenary patted the girl on her shoulder, encouraging her foreword.”

“Lord Mokta, this is a fifty credit stick.” She held it up to him, “as such, my contract is paid off and I don’t have to do what you say anymore.“

The mercenary cracked a small grin, a rarity for him on this hell world.

“That’s right, and as a free person I’ve chosen her as my guest. Now then, please make a place for my darling girl.”

It was just then that his holo pad pinged with a job offer in his home system for ten times the pay, and he knew everything would be alright.

This girl must be some kind of lucky charm, I should thank her, and probably learn her name as well.

As the unlikely pair strolled through the moonlight, the girl, now well fed, began to shiver again. Taking his responsibility as her father, the mercenary passed her his own cloak.

I’m a hardened soldier, and she’s just a little girl, after all. She needs it much more than I do.

The girl, for her part, began to tear up again and the mercenary knew he needed to nip that in the bud. A constantly crying wolf girl would not fly on earth, he’d be lucky not to find himself in jail. He spoke to the girl, keeping his tone even but serious.

“Hey, is the cloak ok? Are you still cold?”

“N-no I’m warm now. Th-thank y-you so much, f-for everything! For the f-food and for p-paying off-f my contract. I was w-wondering what happens to me now? I mean, I can’t go back to his lordship’s house and I w-wouldn’t want to impose on you b-but…”

“Oh I thought that was obvious, I’m taking you back to my planet and adopting you… That is if you want to of course. I have a husband who will love you, and a son about your age who would be thrilled to have a sister.”

“You’re adopting me?! That’s awesome! And I get two dads and a brother, frick yeah!”

“That’s good, some enthusiasm will serve you well. Oh I’ve been meaning to ask, what’s your name?”

“… I don’t have one. A name is something to be earned when you pay off your contract or come of age. But I didn’t pay off my own contract, you paid it for me. I guess, if I have to have a name, could you maybe pick one for me?”

“Very well…” The mercenary became pensive, mentally going through a list of names, but none fit the fluffy anomaly at his side. Eventually, his thoughts turned back to the job offer that had came in earlier. Of course he had accepted, he’d be insane not to. Ten times the wages, and within a day’s commute of his family… a true miracle. He knew what name to give her.

“How does Fortuna sound to you? It means good luck where I come from.”

“I love it, cause I’m the luckiest girl alive!”

“No, I am the luckiest man for finding you.”

Merc and Floof: The Gaurdian

I hate spaceports. Between the long lines, the crowds, and always being on security’s radar, they are the worst place ever. That’s what I would say before I traveled with Fortuna anyway. I officially apologize to all parents who travel with kids, my condolences. This is a whole other layer of hell. I have been awake for nearly twenty four hours straight and our flight leaves in two, my daughter is terrified that someone will take her away from me and so she won’t let go of my cloak, and I almost got into a fight with a security agent because the moron tried to take my sacred sword. Do these blockheads not understand the concept of a ceremonial weapon? It hasn’t left the sheath in years and I have proper documentation for it. But no, they had to try to put it in a ‘travel case’ and store in in the plane. Well, the tenets of my oath dictate that my weapon shall not leave my side and so I was prepared to duel for my honor. Luckily, the guy backed off and got his supervisor, who worked everything out, and we got to our flight on time. Gods, I hate spaceports.

The exhausted mercenary was roused from his near coma by his daughter tapping on his shoulder. Towering above him stood two bovid security guards, one tapping his foot impatiently.

“Huh? Oh yes, what seems to be the problem?”

“Sir, we’re going to need to ask this girl some questions. We’ll be just over there, now come with us little girl.” At this, the already quite diminutive lycan shrank back and clung desperately to her father’s cloak. This set off the mercenary’s paternal instincts, who first glared to the security guards, then comforted his daughter.

“It’s ok sweetie, just tell the truth and there shouldn’t be any issues. I’ll be keeping my eyes on you too, so if anything goes wrong I’ll be right here.” With a reassuring headpat, the girl was sent off. The human watched the three like a predator waiting to strike. He gripped his sword so tightly his knuckles ached, ready to launch into a fight at a moment’s notice. Going to jail would be a small price to pay for defending his daughter.

After what seemed like an eternity, but in actuality was only about five minutes, the now teary eyed lycan came scampering back to her father, immediately gripping her tiny paws back onto the mercenary’s cloak. Seeing her distress, the now furious human looked the bovids in the eye and spoke, his voice chilling the room.

“Why is my daughter crying? If you hurt her I will pay you back ten times over.” The guards, in spite of their clear physical advantage, backed down.

“No sir, she was just eager to get back to you. You two are fine, thank you for your patience.”

The mercenary sighed, this was not an uncommon occurrence. At the last spaceport, they’d been stopped no less than three times, each time eager to find some reason to take his daughter away from him. He looked around as he cared for his little girl, acknowledging the disgusted looks from the rest of the people waiting at the gate. Thankfully this was the last leg of their journey, they’d soon be on earth. He couldn’t wait to see the rest of his family again.

Merc and Floof: The Dichotomy of Man

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrt

splat

Ka-plunk

boom

“Two down, three to go.”

The mercenary whispered under his breath as he loaded up another shell into his shoulder mounted artillery. Part of him felt good having his power armor on after four days of travel, but the other, much louder part, was getting impatient. All he had to do was kill three more of these buggers and he could get back to the barracks for a video call home. He was anxious to see how Fortuna was adapting to life on Earth, and how his husband and son were adapting to the surprise adoption. He hadn’t exactly had time to call back and check with Elliot and Grayson before bringing home another kid, so when he showed back up out of the blue with a random new daughter in tow, there were shocked looks all around.

Unfortunately for the mercenary, he didn’t exactly have the luxury of time to get everyone used to the new situation, as he had to catch a shuttle to Mars the next morning. He knew that Elliot would never throw Fortuna out, and that Grayson was a good kid who wouldn’t even think of bullying anyone. Still, his upcoming call home would tell him if he’d made a mistake in unilaterally adding Fortuna to the household. He hoped not, but he wasn’t the one who took care of the kids most of the time.

Skreee

“Oh shit!”

The mercenary’s thoughts had wandered, and the last bugger, a massive mantis looking fucker, had managed to sneak up behind him and was now trying to melt his power armor off with its acid spit. The mercenary, liking his power armor unmelted thank you very much, grabbed the bugger by its spikes and ripped it straight in half.

“Well, that’s going to take some buffing out.”

He sighed as he signaled for the cleanup team and began to make his way back to the transport. Soon enough, a smile creeped its way up his lips as he looked forward to his rapidly approaching call home.

… … …

The mercenary, now changed out of his power armor, tapped his foot as he waited for the call to connect. Waiting just seconds was now taking a greater toll than the week of waiting that preceded it.

da-ding!

In an instant, all of the mercenary’s stress melted away as the image of his loved ones sitting together on their familiar blue couch appeared on the screen. As soon as the kids saw their dad, they began to smile, and the mercenary knew everything would be alright.

“Daddy!”

The young kids shouted out in unison, the young wolf girl’s tail smacking against the couch. The simple, oversized clothes scrounged up by the mercenary before their flight from her homeworld had been replaced by a comfy set of pink pajamas.

“Hey kiddos, have you two been good while I’ve been gone?”

The mercenary wasn’t really asking, he knew that his children had been on their best behavior. He just wanted to hear them talk about how they’d been doing, their voices like water to a man dying of thirst.

The young boy spoke first, “Yeah, we’ve been good! I taught Fortuna howda play connect four, she’s really good at it, she even beat me two times inna row.” He mumbled out the last phrase, indignant embarrassment painted in his body language.

“Really? Grayson Constanza, the connect four champion of the world, lost to a newbie?”

The wolf girl piped up, puffing out her chest in pride. “Heck yeah! I beat him good!”

The mercenary smiled with contentment, he’d be home with them next week. All he had to do was wait.

After chatting with the kids for about fifteen minutes, the little ones were sent off to bed and he was alone with his husband.

“Bruno, how have you been? How’s the new job?”

“I’m doing better now that I’ve seen you and the kids. The new job’s alright, much better than the last one, but I can’t wait to come home.”

“And I can’t wait to have you here. I have to admit, I was about ready to pummel you into the ground when you showed up with a random kid, but you made a good choice. Fortuna opened up to me about what she went through growing up on Lycaeus, and it wasn’t pretty. Grayson loves his new sister, even the neighbors think she’s a sweetheart.”

“I’m glad to hear that, and I really am sorry about not being able to be there for you. I miss you guys.”

“I miss you too, love.”

[ghost-proofbaby]

SPARKS FLY💜✨ - STEVE HARRINGTON PLEASE

sparks fly (steve's version)

warnings: mentions of issues at home for steve, talk of fear in the future

wc: 2k+

a/n: i need steve harrington to just show up to my house and kiss me please please please

Steve Harrington was tired of pretending.

He was tired of pretending his parents weren’t goddamn strangers on their worst days and roommates on their best ones, he was tired of pretending that it didn’t affect him that everyone seemed to believe he had peaked in high school of all times, he was tired of pretending like he wanted the picket fence life set out for him by the adults that had groomed him into their own vision since his youth. But most of all, he was tired of pretending he wasn’t head over heels in love with you.

It was a fight with his parents that triggered it. Another rejection letter had come through from another college, and his dad had resorted to only kicking him while he was down. The one time he had the misfortune of both parents being home, and it was only being used for them to express all their disappointment in him. His father’s tasteless yelling, his mother’s crocodile tears, everything he tried to say back being ignored – he couldn’t fucking take it. He’d left the house with no destination in mind, just jumping into his driver’s seat and knowing he needed to get as far from that godforsaken house as he could.

Distance. He needed distance. And apparently, in his mind, the one place that could take him farther from a house that would never be a home was you. 

His tires had squealed during several of the turns taken until he was flying down your street. It’s storming, a nasty and unforgiving rain coming down in sheets. He should really be driving more carefully, but he can’t. His head and heart alike are racing, and every single nerve ending is just screaming for you.

You, with kind and nonjudgmental eyes, who had always supported him. You, who had never paid much mind to all that he once was when he bore the title of King Steve. You, who had somehow captivated him and had been filling this hole within his chest, one shovel-full at a time. With your laughter, with soft bumps of your shoulder when his mind took him too far from you, with patient ears during every single one of his raging rants about his parents. 

He wasn’t parking in your driveway this late at night to trouble you with another rant. 

His knuckles turn ghostly white from how hard he’s gripping the steering wheel. This is a bad idea. A terrible one, his worst one to date, but he can’t. He doesn’t have any choice in all the other pretending; he could never get through to his parents, to anyone who had these preconceived notions and expectations of him. Tonight had proven that much. But with you…. With you, a change was possible. He didn’t have to keep biting his tongue when it came to you. Every time he’d look at you when you two hung out during dusk and the golden hour painted your every feature the prettiest shades he’d ever been witness to, he didn’t have to choke back down that pathetic confession of adoration. Every time your hand brushed his while walking to the local diner, he didn’t have to pull it away rather than weave your fingers together. He didn’t have to keep denying himself all these simple pleasures – interrupting kisses he’d fantasized about and holding each other on stormy nights just like this one that he had only dreamt of. 

But if he tells you, if he fucks it all up, he loses you. And Steve Harrington doesn’t know if he could handle that.

“Just do it,” he mumbles, trying to privately hype himself up, “Just get out of the car, just go knock on the front door, just-” 

He’s nearly hyperventilating. There’s only two endings to his night. He either returns back to his house, crawls into bed and licks at the wounds left by your rejection, or he doesn’t. Either he kisses you, and you pull him in from the storm raging on or you don’t. 

Two options. It’s only two options, two possible paths. The world doesn’t end, regardless of which one he’s forced to take tonight. 

Were all of his longing glances not returned? Had he not caught you staring in his direction more times than he could count on one hand? 

His fists drop from the wheel, landing on the door handle and throwing it open before he could freeze up again. 

Had you not whispered to him how he was your best friend, your favorite person, even more times than he had caught you staring? Over phone lines, in private corners of busy parties, sitting on his bed and doing nothing more than enjoying each other’s presence while his parents were out of town. 

The rain soaks him immediately. Down to the bone, he’s drenched, the unforgiving winds whipping around him only making him shiver. He can’t even feel the discomfort of his jeans turning to plaster as he takes the long strides up to your front door. 

Had he imagined that time you’d kissed his cheek at the county fair? When he’d won you that obnoxiously large teddy bear, almost too big for you to carry and adorning the most ridiculous sailor’s outfit either of you had ever seen, and you’d so affectionately nicknamed it after Steve’s place of employment – Scoops the Bear, Captain of Flavor. And had you not called the sailor’s outfit cute the moment Steve made the comparison to his own uniform? 

He knocks hard enough that his knuckles sting, and he doesn’t care. The sting doesn’t reach him, his mind only flashing over a reel of memories with you. All he can feel is that ghost of an ache that always haunts his cheeks when he’s around you, the way his chest feels just a little bit lighter and he feels a little more himself when in your presence. You bring out the best in him – you make him want to be a better man, all while never making him feel as if he isn’t good enough. All he ever feels around you is wanted.

Had your eyes not shined as you looked up at him, all the colorful carnival lights and stars reflected in them as Steve tried to (and failed) to hide his vibrant blush? Had you not smiled soft enough to send sparks flying through his chest, threatening to catch fire at any given moment? 

He hadn’t imagined it all – he couldn’t have imagined it all. You’d looked at him like he was the only boy in the world. You’d looked at him as if you could have spent the rest of your night there, feet planted in the grass and a bear nicknamed after him being crushed in your arms. It had been as if you could have stood by his side for the rest of your days, the rest of the world continuing to move on and the two of you left there to decay hand in hand, and it would have been a life well wasted. For both of you.

“Steve?” 

Your front door swings open, and there you are. Still looking adorable while dressed in your most comfortable pajamas for the night. Even beneath the confused and worried first glance, that look from the fair is still there. Your eyes still shine without the lights. 

“What’s wron-” 

You can’t finish your question – before either of you can process what’s happening, Steve’s lips are on yours. He’s overeager and nowhere near graceful with it, his nose nearly taking out your eye as he throws himself against you at full force. Everything from the night, the last few months, poured into that kiss. You nearly fall backwards from the force, and his hands are quick to catch onto your hips and tug you back into his orbit. But it only changes the trajectory of your stumble; both of you are suddenly outside your door, the rain now soaking you as well as Steve. 

When he pulls back from the kiss, he can’t breathe. He did it. The taste of your lips are still burning his, and he can’t open his eyes to wager your reaction. He doesn’t think you kissed back, it wasn’t much of a kiss beyond him just needing his lips on yours right that second, but he’s not sure. He isn’t fucking sure. He can’t open his eyes – he can’t risk watching himself lose you in real time.

“Steve,” your palm is warm on his frigid cheek. He jumps at the sudden contact, eyes pinching shut harsher, “Please look at me.”

When you ask him in that soft voice, please with that gentle tone that wraps him up in such comfort, he can’t deny you. 

He opens his eyes. He can’t read your face. 

It’s surprised, surely. Mouth still slightly parted and drops of water running down your cheeks. Your lashes flutter as your eyes dart down to his lips, and he swears to every God that has ever existed that you are the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. Something so precious, so warm, so home. 

“What-” you start, but Steve is on a roll of interrupting you tonight.

This time, it’s his voice and not his lips as he sputters out, “Everything’s wrong. Every fucking thing is just wrong – my parents, my life, my decisions. I have no fucking clue what I’m doing with myself. I’m lost, I-I’m so goddamn lost. Because everything is… wrong and bad and… and just… it’s wrong. Except you,” he takes his first big breath since the ramble began, eyes stinging and he tells himself it’s just from the rain leaking into them, “You are the only right thing in my life right now. You’re… Fuck. I’m in love with you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, because I know I’m fucking it all up right now. I’m finally letting the one right thing in my life go wrong, because I just can’t do it anymore. I am so fucking in love with you, and I’m tired of pretending I’m no-”

Your turn to interrupt. You surge forward, wrap your hands around the back of his neck and kiss him even more forcefully than he had you. The taste of the rain and your toothpaste mingle as your body collides with him. He almost forgets to react, so caught up in the fire finally erupting so freely in his chest.

And then you bite at his bottom lip, and he feels that beautiful smile, and he finally remembers to do something. His hands find purchase on your lower back and he tries not to laugh in glee as he hungrily kisses you back, lips moving in tangent and perfect synchronicity. 

“We’re gonna drown out here,” you laugh against his lips, finally breaking off and resting your forehead against his. 

“No, we’re not,” he insists with a cheesy grin, “I used to be a swimmer, remember?” 

Another kiss and more laughter, and Steve can’t even hear the thunder in the distance anymore. It becomes clear which path he will be taking tonight. 

“Let’s go inside and dry off, yeah?” you offer, taking a step back out of the torrential downpour, “I’m getting cold.” 

He’s still starstruck as he looks down at you, nodding dumbly, still all consumed by those embers. “Yeah. Yeah, me too.” 

You take his hands in yours, intertwining your fingers with his just as he has yearned for. You pull shyly, continuing to walk backwards until you step back into the threshold of your house before stopping. The rain no longer pelts down on Steve’s shoulders, the ones infinitely lighter now as your grin is directed at him and he knows he’s home. 

“Oh, and Steve?” you question, and he hums, eager to hear whatever it is you have to say. He’ll always want to listen to you. For the rest of tonight, for the rest of the week, for the rest of his life, “In case it wasn’t obvious, I’m in love with you, you idiot.” 

He can’t help it – he pulls you in for another kiss, kicking the front door shut behind him. Steve supposes he should have seen that one coming. He’s never really had to pretend with you, anyways. 

"kiss me on the sidewalk, take away the pain."

[angelstate]

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost x Virgin!Reader

+18 content warning

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who at the start of the relationship wasn’t sure how to act around you, not because he didn’t like physical contact or spending time with you, God, he wanted nothing more than to enter his way into every nook and cranny of your life and ruin you for everyone else that could come after him (he would never allow another man to enter your life) but he didn’t want to irrupt your life that way from the start, he was a patient man after all, he would make you crave his presence.

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who is “caught off guard” when you start to ask him to stay over, claiming you didn’t want to be alone and that you missed him too much at night to let him leave, besides is late and too dangerous for him to go back home (he is type of dangerous man your parents warn you about when walking alone on the streets) and he as the oh-so-amazing-boyfriend he is obliged to your request, not wanting his pretty girl to get sad. 

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who really tries to make you happy despite loving when you get sad and cry like a kicked puppy, it’s truly a sight for sore eyes, at least ones as empty and sinister as his. And yeah, maybe he gives you the silent treatment just to watch you follow him around and beg for attention he would gladly give you if you didn’t look as good as you do when desperate and whiny for him.

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who lures you into falling right into trap after trap to get what he wants from you, a dirty pantie in the laundry basket? Why don’t you go fetch him the rest of the dirty clothes from the bedroom while he loads the washer for you? putting the dirty pair of underwear in his front pocket when you leave the laundry room.

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who knows he is going to lose the shame sooner or later, but now it’s too early to do so, he doesn’t want you to think he is creepy (he is beyond creepy, mentally fucked up in every sense) he loves you after all, and he wants to know your smell, your taste and much more, what a better start than a dirty pair of panties to begin knowing you more in detail.

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who sometimes does feel guilty, not for what he does, sees nothing wrong with stealing dirty underwear and pressing it to his nose while jerking off (sometimes licking them), that’s a way of loving you when you aren’t around. He feels guilty at times because you don’t know this “lovely” part of him, you should know every corner of his mind the same way he does yours. and maybe it's easier for him because you're so fucking dumb in the best way possible, giving him unlimited access to every detail about you if he just asks while kissing your neck or calling you an equally as dumb nickname.

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who wants nothing more in this world than to corrupt you till there’s no space in your brain not plagued by memories of him, fucking you, loving you, making you cry, everything. He wants you to see him as the definition of love and pain and be addicted to his sadistic nature.

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who knows really fucking well how sick in the head he is for wanting to ruin such a pretty little thing like you, but in his mind, he is practically making you a favor, he shows you just how ugly the world can get it at times, protects you from it even, and in return you love him unconditionally, keeping your head empty, letting him take full control of you so you don’t have to worry about anything.

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who knows you sometimes doubts the legitimacy of his “good intentions” but is quick to shut down every question you have with manipulative words that sound pretty and full of love. He doesn’t mean to be so manipulative though, he really wants you to see his true intentions but if anything that could make you less docile to him, try to find a way out of the apartment now the two of you call home. It truly is for the best if you don’t know what occurs in his sick mind, at least for him it was the best.

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who despite being a manipulative piece of shit does indeed love you and goes out of his way to make room for you in his life the best he can. He actually started using his PTO days to spend more time with you, he had prioritized his job and would never take days off if it wasn’t strictly necessary, but with you now being part of his life (therefore part of him) he knew he had to make good used of the vacation days he had available to love you and coddle you. 

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who has a high salary because of his rank and years serving as an SAS soldier, he is well off, to say the least, and has never been one to spend money on anything, except on you that is. Because he wants to spoil you the best he can, he knows your background and that you didn’t exactly come from money, just another middle-class suburban family who lived comfortably but not well off. but the way he goes about spoiling you is so fucking creepy, buys you clothes he knows are way too revealing for you to feel comfortable wearing outside, and spends way too much money on sex toys he knows he’ll have to basically coerce you into trying them. 

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who is extremely kinky and loves to be the one in power (in and out of the bedroom) he knows you were never given the sex talk though, barely gave your first kiss in 8th grade before your parents found out and put you in an all-girls school so you didn’t get distracted from studying, so to say the least, you were a virgin when entering the relationship. Ghost like the fucking creep he is loves that about you.

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who loves the fact you’re a virgin so much he cannot help but tease you about it, physically and mentally with lingering touches and teasing comments to rile you up only to deny you right after. “Taking your virginity would be like cutting an angel's wing, can’t do that to ya’ lovie” he so fucking cockily says, arms crossed over his chest and his voice gruff, looking down at you, and you know he’s smirking under his mask.

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who wants you to beg for his cock, wants to have you on your knees, begging for him to take your virginity, he’s the only man in your life after all, the one you plan to marry and devote your soul and life to (you better devote your life to him) He is playing the long game, both torturous and pleasuring because when the time is right, he is going to fuck you till you can’t remember nothing but his name and can’t walk away from him.

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who waited a lot of fucking time (like a lot) to finally get you where he wanted, it does come by surprise though. he is used to you sitting on his lap, tugging his belt, and asking him to try to go further. he always rejected you though. wanting you utterly desperate. what he hadn’t taken into account is what you did in the meantime, every time he shut you down. sooner he discovered what you did. The image of you, straddling a stuffed animal he bought you at the beginning of your relationship pressed against your cunt as you humped it like a bitch in heat, soft mewls, and moans leaving your lips, and ghost didn’t want to interrupt you, having too much fun looking at you cry from overstimulation as you struggled to make yourself come. but then you moaned out his name, his real name and the urge to fuck you senseless became too much to ignore this time.

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who opens the bedroom door fully but doesn’t enter, only calling out to you to see the face of panic you would get at being caught “What are ya doin’ lovie?” he saw the way your hips stopped moving, your face full of embarrassment and your doe eyes teary, from shame or overstimulation? he didn’t care, you look pretty either way. he hears you struggle to answer him, too fucking dumb to even think of an excuse to give him.

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who doesn’t care to wait for an answer after you don't speak for almost a minute, choosing to take matters into his own hands and do what he had been wanting to do since the beginning.

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who doesn’t care enough to warn you before he is grabbing you by the ankles and pulling you towards the end of the bed, flipping you on your back and hovering over you with a dark look in his eyes that send shivers down your spine, he looked fucking possessed (can’t you blame him though?) as he looks down at your panties, the fabric soaked and covered in your slick, the sight makes him want to groan out loud.

he had never expected you to be so filthy in the cutest of ways, I mean really, humping a stuffed animal he gave you, could you really be more desperate than that? he wishes he had caught you sooner, but he guessed you only really touched yourself when he wasn’t home or at least busy enough to not come into the bedroom, either way, he couldn’t care less right now, not when he had you under him all flustered and shy yet clearly frustrated from not having come yet.

“you should’ve come to me dovie” he says, pressing his hands on your clothed cunt, spreading your slick on your thighs before his fingers began softly rubbing your clit, his lips finding their way into your neck and leaving wet kisses all over the exposed skin. ”could’ve made you feel so good if you had just asked nicely", he mutters against your skin, a small sob coming from you making him break into a smile, lifting his head and looking at your flushed face, tears running down your face as you whimpered.

you sniffled, thighs twitching as his fingers don’t stop rubbing circles over your overstimulated clit. “didn’t wanna bother you Si..” he hears you mumble, a content sigh leaving his lips at your words before he leaning down and kissing you on the lips, not caring to reassure you he wouldn’t have been bothered if you came to him horny and looking for release. you had to look for it alone, so fucking dumb you were.

“gotta punish you now, sweetness…went behind my back and touched what's mine” he says against your lips, his free hand moving to grab a fistful of your hair and pulling it slightly, a whine leaving your lips at the sudden touch. “dumb little bitch you were, huh” he added not even three seconds later, his comment making your heart clench, you didn’t want to disappoint him, never. couldn’t bear the thought of doing something he didn’t approve of when he basically controlled your entire life by now. Before you knew it, Ghost was pounding into you with a brutal pace, the tip of his hard cock reaching your cervix and hitting it continuously, dragging moans of pleasure mixed with pain, struggling to take all of him while he forced his way in.

your legs were on his shoulder while pinned you down with his weight, leaving no opportunity for you to move away from him, forced to take everything he gave you “Filthy girl, so needy and not even able to take all my cock” he said, grabbing once again a fistful of your hair and pulling on it more roughly, forcing your head off the bed while he littered your neck with bite marks and bruises, “ can’t expect much from a dumb bitch like you” he continued to insult you while he bullied his cock into your pussy, loud moans leaving your lips, so cock-drunk you couldn’t even formulate a response.

his thrust became harder and harder, a frantic pace that began creating a tighter and tighter feeling on your lower stomach, you dug your nails into his back, scratching him when suddenly the knot on your stomach snapped, your orgasm ripping through your body, making your hips twitch to try and get away from Ghost as he continued to fuck into you overstimulating you. “I can’t.. s’too much! too much!” you said between moans, sobs following soon after while another knot began forming rapidly.

Ghost could feel you clench around him, your slick from your orgasm wetting his cock and thighs even more, making it easy to thrust into you while your walls sucked him in with a vice grip. he felt himself get closer to coming, one of his hands moving to your neck, choking you while the other moved to your clit, drawing tight circles that force a last orgasm out of you. “gonna fill you up, dovie, ruin your pussy for every bastard you meet after me” Ghost groans, quickening his pace, his balls slapping against your ass before he finally gives one last powerful thrust, burying himself deep inside you and filling you with his load, groaning on the crook of your neck while he feels your pussy spam around him, milking him dry.

Ghost sits up on the bed, your legs falling from his shoulders onto the bed, your body entirely spent as he watches your hips twitch, tears stains on your cheeks while your eyes are half closed, tired and overstimulated “Did so good for me, lovie..such a pretty girl you are” Ghost mutters, pulling out and watching as his cum spills out of your cunt onto the bed sheets, a wicked smile on his lips as he looks down at his dick, dry blood on part of his skin.

CreepyBoyfriend!Ghost who took your fucking virginity after begging him for almost a year of dating and absolutely broke you apart because of how hard he fucked you. (Maybe next time he'll have you gagging on his cock)

[rafetopia]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲

- 𝐩𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝

pairing: virgin!pope heyward x virgin!fem!reader

genre: soft smut and lots of fluff

words: ~3.8k

warnings: outdoor sex (on a roof), protected sex, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), p in v, loss of virginity, mentions of food and alcohol

summary: a date night on the roof and a love confession lead to your first night with your boyfriend

It was a beautiful Saturday night, the sky was clear making all the beautiful stars visible to those who wished to look at them. There was a fresh breeze dancing through the late summer air. It was a quiet night, scattered seagulls were singing in the distance, mixed with the sound waves crashing softly onto the shore.

You were sitting on the roof of “Heyward’s Seafood”, together with Pope, your boyfriend. The two of you had only started dating recently, which added to the slight nervousness you were feeling in your stomach. This obviously wasn’t your first date and yet, something felt different tonight. He was going all out since his parents weren't home tonight. It was their 21st anniversary and like every single year before, Heyward took his wife out for dinner and dancing. Pope had been in charge of closing the store and as soon as he was done, he had invited you to date night on the shop's roof. He knew how much you loved watching the stars at night, it had been your favorite thing to do since you were a little girl.

He had spread out blankets and even made you pasta, your favorite food. Well, all he had to do was cook pasta, roast pine nuts, drown them in pesto, and put some parmesan cheese on top and it still took the best of him. But even after almost dropping the pesto and burning the pine nuts, he still managed to make everything look and taste just as you loved it the most (minus the over-salted penne but you let that one slide because it’s Pope). He even got you that cheap wine you were always dragging around with you when you were hanging out with him and his friends because you knew all they were drinking was beer. JJ used to laugh at you for that, but after multiple smacks to his head by not only Pope but also Sarah, he quickly learned to shut up about your drinking preferences. Pope also knew what a sweet tooth you had, which was why he knew he couldn't miss dessert. He had stored some ice cream in the freezer box, which he had hurled up the tiny ladder. He almost have fallen back down if it wasn't for JJ, who had helped him prepare everything last minute.

“How does it taste? And be honest please, I can handle it.” He asked, his left eyebrow rising as he looked at you with hopeful eyes.

You took a second to finish chewing and swallowing but you didn’t need long to think of an answer. “It’s perfect, baby. I love how you made the pine nuts extra roasty.” You smiled genuinely, but Pope seemed to capture your response more critically than you intended.

“I burned them, didn’t I?” He said, all excitement leaving his voice. “I’m so sorry, I knew I should have made new ones…”

“No, no!” You exclaimed as you stuffed the last few noodles into your mouth. “I said they’re perfect, Pope and you know, I never lie.” You smiled, while you tried to chew your food down as fast as possible. “They are way better than when my dad does them.” You added, before taking the empty plate out of his hands and crawling onto his lab.

“I guess that does mean something, considering your dad is a chef at the country club.” He smiled, almost believing you.

“See.” You giggled, as you softly wiped away the stain of red pesto left on his upper lip. “He always takes them out of the pan way too early, you can barely taste that they are supposed to be roasted.”

For normal people, that would have been a lie, because no one on that island was able to cook as well as your dad did, but for your taste buds, they were always way too mild.

He smiled at your statement, even though he knew he kinda fucked up a little bit. But to his advantage, your mind didn’t stay long with the pasta because as soon as you saw the box, something else crossed your mind immediately.

“Baby, what’s in there?” Your eyes lit up as you saw the smile crawling over his lips, knowing exactly what that meant. He knew how much you loved Ice Cream and since everything was (almost) perfect tonight, you knew what must be in there.

You knew you were right when he opened the box and pulled out a box of ice cream and two spoons. “You know I set all this up, so we could watch the stars together and now you’re sitting with your back to them.” He chuckled, softly as he guided a spoon full of Ice cream to your mouth.

“First of all, I can see them behind you, and second of all, you are way prettier than the stars.”

He tried to hide a smile but he was so flustered, it was hard for him. He loved receiving compliments from you but still, he wasn’t very used to them. You loved seeing him like this, you loved getting his cheeks all hot and flustered, it made you giggle and sent even more butterflies through your core.

You took a sip of your wine, that he had even filled into a wine glass. You didn't even know he knew what a wine glass looked like and he probably didn’t and just took the weirdest looking glass in the cabinet but you were still surprised. You were even more surprised that he decided to drink wine with you tonight, knowing he would get teased endlessly for it if his friends saw him. You appreciated what he did for you tonight, so much that you couldn't keep your eyes off him. He always looked pretty but tonight it was different. He was dressed in a black shirt and some black basketball shorts, a look he knew was killing you. You were obsessed with him dressed all in black and you knew exactly that was why he chose this particular outfit tonight.

The two of you kept rambling on about whatever came to your mind while slowly but surely emptying that box of Ice Cream. Well, in the end, it was you who ate most of it, since Pope was the one who did most of the talking. You couldn’t help but smile at every single thing he said, no matter how boring you would normally think the topics were. After a while he stopped talking, as he looked at your smiling face, wondering what it could be that amused you so much.

“What’s so funny?” He asked. You noticed how unsure he got, a normal thing for him when he caught himself talking without a break. “Am I talking too much? I’m talking too much…”

“No, no!” You chuckled, giving him a reassuring smile. “You know I could listen to you for hours.”

You looked down into the no empty Ice Cream box, the feeling of guilt rushing over your face, something that didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Oh, don’t worry, I mostly got this for you.” He smiled softly, knowing you would feel bad anyway. “Really baby, you know I don't even like strawberries that much.”

“True.” You chuckled, as leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his lips.

He quickly retorted the kiss, putting the empty box away, before placing his hands on your waist. The kiss started slow and sweet but quickly turned more passionate as you felt the wine circulating through your veins, giving you the courage to let your hand travel down to his pants, where your hand started massaging his growing bulge. Quiet moans escaped his lips, as your hand slipped into his pants, and quickly the two of you noticed that night, might be night where you went all the way to the end. When you started dating, you quickly found out and neither of you was very experienced in that matter, which made you decide to wait a little bit. There had been many times where you thought this was the night but you always ended up stopping before the actual act. This time felt different though. His hands had wandered under your dress by now, where he quickly noticed the lack of fabric that came with you only wearing a lace thong.

You smirked as you felt his dick twitching under your touch, combined with the sweet moans escaping his beautiful lips. His hands were now wandering up to your tits, where he once again was met with the lack of fabric. You heard a quiet “damn” escaping his lips, as his thumbs traced over your nipples. You let your head fall back as his lips traveled over your neck, kissing every single inch of your skin. You tried to control your moans but the sensation from his thumbs on your nipples and his tongue on your neck was too much for you to stay quiet.

“Baby…” You whispered, your hands finding their way back inside his pants.

“I know.” He mumbled between his kisses, before turning his attention back to your mouth.

Before he could do anything, you had pushed your tongue inside him, not caring to wait for him to take the lead. You gently slid under his pants, so you were holding his hard dick in your hands. You slowly let your hand wander up and down, while your thumb brushed over his tip. You knew how much he loved it when you did that, his twitching erection being the proof. His right hand was now sliding down to your thong, where he laid his finger on your soaking, but still covered clit. This wasn't the first time he made you wet like that but it was the first time you thought it might lead to more. You needed more of him and as if he could read your thoughts, he gently pushed the fabric to the side, before placing his finger back on your clit.

The sudden feeling of direct skin contact, made you moan out loud even louder. He noticed how needy you grew, so you let his fingers trace over your entrance, causing you to look at him with pleading eyes.

“Can I…?” He asked carefully, not being sure if he was going too fast.

“Please.” You whispered, nodding in support of your answer.

He was so gentle as he let his fingers slide inside you. You were already soaking wet but he was so scared of hurting you that he took them back out just to spit on them. You didn’t expect him to do something like that but it only made you want him more. He gently pushed them back inside, causing you to gasp out in pleasure. You shot him an assuring smile before leaning back in for a kiss. You let your hand slide up and down his length while he pushed his fingers back and forth into your core. He started slow but soon began to match your movements, which made it very hard for you to concentrate.

“Pope…” You whispered, “I… I love you.”

He stopped and looked at you, eyes widened in surprise and you were just as surprised as he was. “I…” You stumbled, but he placed his index finger under your chin and guided it up, so you’d look him in the eyes.

“I love you too.” He smiled. “I think I’ve been in love with you since you moved here.”

“But Pope, that was in third grade.” You chuckled, now your eyes were filled with surprise.

“I know.”

This was enough to send you over the edge. You smashed your lips back into his, without leaving him any room to breathe. After what felt like hours, you stopped. “I’m ready. Need to feel you inside me.” You whispered.

He stopped his movements as the excitement rushed all over him. “You sure?”

"Absolutely." You smiled, “If you are.”

“100%!” He exclaimed. “But I don’t… JJ gave me one but It’s downstairs… I think.” He mumbled, earning nothing but a smile from you.

You leaned in for a kiss and whispered: “Pocket inside my bag.”

Pope internally smiled at the way you were always prepared for everything. It was one of the reasons he was so in love with you. He gently pulled your dress over your head, leaving you all exposed in front of him. He took a second to admire your beauty before you pulled off his shirt. You too, needed a second to take him in. It wasn't that you hadn't seen him like this before, you did countless times at the beach but you fell in love with him all over again every time.

“God you’re so pretty.” You mumbled, leaving him all shy and flustered.

“I believe that’s my line, baby.”

“But you’re pretty too.” You giggled.

He smiled and pulled you in for a kiss, while his hands wandered from your waist down to your ass. Your hands were placed on his soft-toned chest, feeling his muscles playing beneath his skin. You were still sitting on top of him, so he signaled you to get up, for him to be able to pull off his pants. Once they were off, he told you to lie down and climbed on top of you. You pulled him in for more kisses, while his hand wandered down to your thong. He easily let his fingers slide under the fabric, his touch sending goosebumps all over your skin. He let his thumb dance over your clit, while his index finger slid inside. You let out a loud moan, leaving a smirk all over his face. It quickly turned into an expression of slight embarrassment, as he remembered where the two of you were at.

"What's wrong?” You asked slightly confused.

“Nothing baby, it's just… what if anyone hears us?”

“Then let them hear us.” You giggled, “But I can try to be more quiet if you want.”

“You know what? No.” He grinned, the thought of other people hearing how good he made you feel suddenly turned him on more than he thought.

And he did make you feel very, very good. The thought of actually being vulnerable like that for someone had always freaked you out a little bit but with him it was different. He made you nervous but not in a bad way. You were nervous indeed, but it was more exciting than anything else.

The deeper his fingers dug inside you, the more you wanted him. Your left hand was placed on his shoulder, while your right one was looking for your bag. You grabbed it and pulled out a tiny colorful package.

“Are you ready?” You asked, earning a nod from your boyfriend.

“Are you?”

“Hmm… I think so?” You answered, more unsure than sure.

“I uhmm… I can…” He stuttered, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

With that, he went down but not without covering your body in kisses, causing you to giggle at the sensation. The moment his tongue met your folds, your giggle turned into moans. You had never felt this way before, as he had never used his tongue on you before. He struggled at first, not really knowing what to do but the louder your moans got, the more confident he became. Pope had always been a quick learner so it didn't take long until he had figured it out. He twisted his tongue inside, hitting exactly where you needed him to hit. He even added his thumb to your clit for support- causing you to see stars even though you had closed your eyes.

You felt something in you tighten, it was unfamiliar but it felt so good and it got only stronger the faster and more eager he got. Before you knew it, your high rushed over you, causing you to almost scream his name into the night. Your angled legs slid down next to his, as you desperately tried to contain your voice. Your hands that were tangled in his hair cramped together, sending a slight pain through his head but in this moment, Pope would’ve rather died than stopping you in any way. He looked up at you, trying to get a quick glance at you since he had never seen a girl orgasm before, at least not outside of the internet and most definitely not caused by himself. He was so amazed by your beauty, that he didn’t realize he was still staring once you opened your eyes again.

“What?” You whispered, still trying to catch your breath. “Did you just watch me? Oh my god, how embarrassing.” You mumbled as you felt your cheeks turning all hot.

“You are so damn beautiful, you have no idea.” He said, his fingers softly caressing over your thighs. “This was the hottest thing I've ever seen.”

“Then you really should look into the mirror more often, pretty boy.” You grinned, before signaling him to come closer and kiss you. You tasted yourself on his lips and to your surprise, it was better than you had always imagined. “I think now I'm ready.” You giggled, as you let your hand travel down to his underwear.

You let your hand slide under the fabric, where you quickly felt him harden under your touch. You handed him the condom and he removed his boxers. You were sitting next to him, preparing the extra blanket he had brought, while he tried to roll over the condom, struggling.

“Here, let me help you.” You said, as you led your hand slide over his length, up and down until he was more than ready. Pope’s mind had already drifted back to pleasure land, but you were able to roll it over with ease. You laid yourself back on the blanket, as he crawled on top of you. You swung the other blanket over him, which earned you an appreciative “thank you” from your boyfriend. You spread your legs as he was looking to push it in but you both soon found out that it was actually way easier if you guided him.

The moment he slid inside you, you both let out a moan, almost synchronized. It did hurt a little bit though, which didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Are you okay, baby?” He asked, his voice filled with concern. “We can stop if it hurts, I’ll stop.”

“No.” You whispered, “It does hurt a little bit but I’m sure it will stop soon. You did good preparation work.” You smirked, causing him to smile himself.

“If you want me to stop, just say it okay?”

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” You smiled, before pulling him in for a soft kiss.

He slowly continued his movements, careful not to hurt you. He enjoyed every second of it but couldn't get the thought out of his head that it might not feel the same for you. He got convinced quickly though, when your hands traveled down his back, nails digging deep into his skin, so deep that he was sure it would be visible tomorrow morning.

“Just like that, baby.” You moaned out, “You can even go faster if you want, it doesn't hurt anymore.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes baby, please.”

With that, he sped up his pace, still careful but faster than before. He was close to you, legs angled and face over yours, because there wasn't a second where he didn’t want to look into your eyes. He leaned in for a kiss, which you retorted quickly, while you wrapped your legs around his torso, pushing the blanket off him in the process. You would’ve been sorry but you needed him to be as close as possible to you and judging by the sweat on his skin, he didn’t seem to mind much. With your newfound position, you were able to push him even deeper into you, a fact both of you welcomed very much. As his movements got faster, your moans got louder and he soon realized that he wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer. Your nails dug deeper into his skin and he wanted to hold out longer for you but it grew harder and harder for him to do so. Especially as soon as you moved your lips to his neck, which almost sent him over the edge.

“Faster baby, can you go faster?” You moaned out, to which he sped up his movements.

“Fuck…” He whispered, and soon after, his orgasm washed over him.

He sounded so beautiful, as he moaned into your ear, so loudly, that you were sure someone must've heard the two of you. As soon as he felt like himself again, he collapsed on top of you. He wrapped his arms around your body, and laid his head on your chest, perfect for you to straddle his head. You loved tracing your fingers through his locks, and he did as well since it always helped him calm down. You were somehow able to grab the blanket that you had lost earlier, so you covered the two of you with it. Your fingers went back to straddling his head, and before you knew it your eyes fell shut. You both were tired, so tired that you were pretty sure you both fell asleep for a few minutes. As soon as your eyes were met with the beautiful night sky once again, you tried to wake up your sleepy boyfriend.

“Pope baby, wake up.”

“Hmm, too comfy.” He mumbled, and you were pretty sure he fell back asleep right after.

“Baby, you are still wearing the condom, we need to get cleaned up.” You chuckled, as you tried to keep yourself awake. “I don't want it to get lost in me.” You added, as you once again tried to shake him awake, less gently this time.

“Hmm, am wake.” He mumbled as he lifted his head.

“Careful, baby.”

He carefully sat himself up and pulled out of you. To your surprise, everything went over smoothly and you were able to get up without leaving behind a mess. He wrapped it up in some tissue and the two of you got dressed.

“I’m pretty sure my parents are back by now.” He said as you gathered all the things he brought on the roof.

“If so, they probably heard us. And if that’s the case I’ll never be able to look them in the eyes ever again.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yep.”

You were lucky, Heward's truck wasn’t there yet when they climbed down the roof. The two of you put everything away. When you fell into bed a few minutes later, he pulled his arm around you so you could snuggle your head onto his body. You both fell asleep within seconds but more connected and in love with each other, than ever before.

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