#< again. can’t sleep so the thoughts take over
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The First Meet Self-Aware!Caleb
Caleb always talked about how he would he would show you around SkyHaven when you got there. It was never an 'if' with him it was always a 'when'. Perhaps that should've been your first red flag, but when you have feelings for someone those red flags look a little pink A/N: I was chillin' in the N109Zone while I wrote this. Sylus rubbed my feet and brought me food. pt. 1 here
“Just give me some time….”
What did he mean by that? The memory of the way his voice shook and how it seemed like he was talking more to himself rather than you — haunted you endlessly. You spent your days on edge, looking over your shoulder, tossing and turning in your sleep and waking up out of breath. You were never able to use your phone again after that it just wouldn’t turn back on. You spun the new device in your hand flipping it over to see the new phone case you purchased for it.
Apples.
“Well thanks for the new phone Caleb” You mumbled to yourself, setting it aside on your desk before sitting down to get to work. Part of you missed playing Love and Deepspace, but you couldn’t bring yourself to download the app again after what happened with Caleb. For months you had managed to fall for that pixelated man only for it to end the way that it did. You still had no clue what he meant by ‘Give me some time’ but it gave you chills nonetheless.
“Hey!” You jumped at the sound of Camerons voice aka your work bestie. “What?” The word rushed out of you. She stared down at you with a concerned look “I’ve been trying to get your attention I called your name at least ten times” You blinked rapidly as you looked around trying to gather your scattered thoughts. You hadn't realized you were spacing out “I’m sorry I was just trying to get this finished by end of day” You smoothed out your shirt and turned to face your friend “What's up?” Just when you thought it would be bad news you watched as a saccharine grin spread across her face. “Somebody had these delivered” She pulled a bouquet of your favorite flowers from behind her back and gently placed them in your lap. “Just for you”
Your whole face lit up as you looked down at the gorgeous flowers. No one has ever gifted you flowers before. The gesture almost made you combust just from staring at them. Carefully picking them up, you took a long sniff relishing in the floral notes that filled your senses. After getting a good sniff you quickly searched the flowers for a card to see who your secret admirer could be.
‘𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝑷𝒊𝒑-𝒔𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒂𝒌 ♡ ͏𝑰 𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 -𝑪 ’
Your heart dropped to your ass in an instant; it can’t be Caleb he’s not real. You sprang to your feet letting the flowers fall to the floor — petals broke away from the stems as you kicked it away. The room grew blurry as your lungs constricted and your heart pounded like a drum in your ears. The last thing you saw was your friend reaching for you before you were suddenly counting the ceiling lights. Cameron shook you by your shoulders trying to get you to breathe properly. “What was in those flowers!? What did you do? Should I call 911?” She wasn’t speaking to you she was looking over her shoulder — who's she talking to? Please don’t let it be your boss that lady is strict enough as it is. She’ll have you head on a stick if she finds out you passed out on the clock.
“No I'll take it from here” A tall looming shadow stood over you; his face came into view as he leaned down and cupped your cheek in his hand. “Let’s go home pipsqueak you don’t look so well” Caleb? But how? You wanted to flinch away from his touch or get up and scramble away from him but your body was so heavy. “Ca…Caleb” It was so hard to speak your words coming out slurred as you continued to become even dizzier. “How?…..” His smile was blurry but his voice was clear "I take it you missed me considering this phone case"
The world seemed to be going by in flashes. First you were on the floor and next you were in someones arms and now you’re watching flashes of light pass by as you struggled to keep your eyes open. “Get some rest” A gentle hand rubbed small circles on your back willing you to sleep. The heavy weight of sleep outweighed your will to stay awake.
You were groggy as you rolled over and instinctively snuggled into your pillow. You wanted to go back to sleep, but the smell of breakfast had your stomach growling. Breakfast? You sat up in a panic looking around the foreign room. This was not your room and this was not your city. Fumbling out of bed you somehow managed to wrap your feet up in the sheets falling to the floor with a hard thud “Fuck that hurt” just then you heard heavy footsteps heading your way. Terror set in as you tried to untangle yourself from the blankets as the footsteps grew closer. “Come on come on come on” you begged the sheets that seemed to continuously grip onto your legs. “You can’t be serious” You whisper-yelled to yourself.
The room door opens softly and there stands Caleb with a look of worry. “What happened?” He rushes to your side and tries to help untangle you. “Caleb!?” Your eyes are practically bulging out of your head staring at the man in front of you. You wriggle and flail only making things worse “Hold still!” Caleb pins you in place with his evol as he unwraps your lower half from the sheets and blanket. “There. All done” He meets your stare and gives you those same puppy dog eyes that you remember all too well.
“W-where am I?” It took everything in you to keep from cowering into the corner. You knew there was no point in trying to run since he could quite literally pin you in place. He beamed as he gestured towards the floor to ceiling window “Welcome to SkyHaven I hope you enjoy your stay” He said with a wink. Your lips curled into an angry frown while your eyes ping ponged between the view and him. “What? Are you not happy to see me?”
“I don’t understand how I'm seeing you” You rolled your shoulder to try and quell the pain radiating from it. There will definitely be some bruising or at least some soreness later. “That’s classified information Pip-squeak” Before you could ask anymore questions Caleb pulled you to your feet like you weigh nothing. You looked up at him almost entranced by how handsome he is. You shook your head and snatched your hands from his. “Don’t give me that bullshit excuse! Take me home!”
He tilted his head and reached a hand out to caress your cheek “You are home” Although he had the warmest smile and lovestruck eyes; you couldn't help, but feel like a bucket of ice water was thrown on you. You stared dumbfounded; words escaping you.
Say something. Say something!
“I have to leave soon but I wanted to share a meal with you before then” That's when you noticed he was dressed in his colonel uniform — damn he looked so good too, but you refused to tell him that.
Suddenly he grabbed your wrist and pulled you out the door. You tripped over your own feet trying to keep up with his long strides. “I can walk on my own Caleb let go” You yanked at his grip and surprisingly he let go — only for him to swiftly sweep you off your feet and carry you bridal style into the dining room. He gently placed you in a chair and sauntered off to the kitchen returning with your favorite juice, a glass of water, and scallion pancakes. You stared at your plate not sure if you’re happy or pissed.
“I didn’t poison it so stop poutin’ and eat before it gets cold” You glanced at Caleb who occupied the seat next to you. He sat in a relaxed position with his head resting in his palm; studying you intently. You were still hesitant to eat anything this man put in front of you considering he kidnapped you to another world and won’t tell you how to get home. Caleb reaches a hand across you grabbing your knife and fork and slices a piece of your scallion pancake — popping it into his mouth with a subtle groan. He cuts another piece and turns the fork to you “See it’s safe”
You hesitantly part your lips as Caleb pushes the food into your mouth. The flavors bursting on your tongue had you audibly moaning as well. Caleb was a fantastic cook — you snatched the fork from his hand and dug right in taking a few sips of your drink to wash it down. The weight of his stare has you slowing down and immediately wiping your mouth “What are you staring at?” Calebs eyes soften as he slowly scans your face “You’re even more beautiful in person”
Even though you weren’t happy with him those words still gave you butterflies — you’ve been trying so hard to suppress them. You dropped your gaze and moved the last bits of your food around your plate “Don’t flirt with me you’re gonna make me nervous” He let out a soft chuckle and flicked your nose before leaning back in his chair — flashing that gorgeous smile of his. Caleb really was breathtaking; those violet eyes almost had you in a trance. You couldn’t help, but take in all his features — your eyes going from his eyes to his lips, taking notes of how full and soft they looked.
Continuing your perusal, you let your eyes move down, taking in his long muscular, but lean frame. His legs seemed to go for miles and you watched him spread them just a little wider when your eyes reached his lap. “You like what you see pip-squeak?” You finally snapped out of your self-inflicted trance and shook your head “You’re easy on the eyes even though you make my nervous system stand on end” You pushed your empty plate away, crossing your arms over your chest as you sat back in your chair.
Caleb didn’t respond immediately — opting to just give your cheek a caress as he grabbed your plate. His silence was unnerving to say the least. Is he upset? Are you the reason he’s upset? Staying quiet seemed to be the best option. “So I’ll be leavin’ for three days I want you to stay here and when I get back I promise to give you the grand tour of SkyHaven” His voice was accompanied by the sound of dishes clattering and running water.
“Three days?!” You choked on your drink causing you to cough loudly. Caleb stopped what he was doing and rushed to your side — rubbing your back as you caught your breath. “I’m not staying here for three days! I have a life back home!” You pushed his shoulder so you could stand and get some space. You knew by the way his brows furrowed and the chilling demeanor that washed over him in an instance that you’d made him mad. “And how exactly do you plan on getting ‘home’ pip-squeak?” He took a step toward you making you step back. You didn’t get far as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you flush against him. His eyes were becoming wild — this was the same look in his eyes before he ruined your phone for good. His heart was also beating rapidly in rhythm with yours.
You: Tell me how! Caleb: Didn’t you say you hated your job? You: Yes but- Caleb: Weren’t you the one who said you wanted someone to take care of you for once? You: Caleb I didn’t mean- Caleb: So why not stay here and be happy …. with me?
Your heart was beating out of your chest as you stood there letting part of yourself give in to him while the other half was ready to run out the door. Where would you go though? Who would help you? There’s no way Caleb is actually cruel enough to keep you here knowing damn well you don’t belong in this game. “I-I can’t” You croaked out not knowing if you wanted to kiss him or kick him. You watched Calebs’ expression fall, but he quickly covered it with a small grin. He stepped away from you and you almost chased after him due to the loss of warmth. He gripped you by your chin and you stood there frozen not sure what his next move would be. He narrowed his eyes as he searched your face for what? You didn’t know. To your surprise he placed the softest kiss on your lips. The gasp that followed was swallowed up by him as he deepened the kiss. Your mind screamed at you to give him a swift kick to the crotch, but your heart was melting in the palm of his hand.
You kissed him back with the same fervor.
You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him impossibly close. Caleb kissed you like he would never have this chance again while simultaneously savoring your lips like he had all the time in the world. He tapped the side of your thigh and you swiftly lifted it without question. Caleb picked you up, holding you close as he moved across the room and laid you down on the couch. He pulled away breathless and dropped his forehead on your chest “If we keep going I’ll be late for work”
“I should probably get home anyway Caleb we can talk about this another day, but let me go home first” You ran your hands through his hair — it was soft. He lifted his head and for the first time, since bringing up home, his eyes showed no sign of anger. “You’re right” He stood to his full height and helped you to your feet. “Lets get you some pain medication for your shoulder” He brushed his fingertips over the darkening area “Then I'll tell you how to get home” his words were almost a whisper.
“Thank you” You could feel the tension melting off of you in waves.
“Follow me” He helped you to your feet and headed down the hallway towards what you assume is his room. You followed closely behind him; stumbling a few times to keep up. Once you were in his room your stumbling became much harder to control. Your breathing was becoming heavy and your head felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. You braced yourself against the wall willing the dizziness to stop.
“What’s wrong? Come lay down” Caleb said feigning concern. Your body was too heavy to even try to fight him so you allowed him to guide you into his bed and you felt a soft kiss on your forehead right before drifting off to sleep. “I’ll be back soon”
The room was dark only lit by the moon through the window when you woke up. You sat up glancing around the room trying to figure out where you were. It took a minute for your eyes to adjust, but once they did you saw the outline of a small lamp on the nightstand next to the bed.
No he didn’t.
You bolted out of bed at the sudden realization that you were still in Calebs home. “Caleb!” You yelled as you ran down the hall out into the living room. The place was dark and quiet not a single sign of another person. You ran to the front door, frantically trying to open it, but somehow Caleb managed to bolt this door shut making it impossible for you to leave. “He locked me in?” Think.
The windows!
You opened one of the few windows that wasn't floor to ceiling and found that it luckily wasn't sealed shut. Freedom was in reach. You went to put one leg out the window when you were met with an electrifying pain. “Ow! Damn it!” There was some kind of electromagnetic wall just outside the window. Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. Your breathing was ragged and tears streamed down your face uncontrollably. “Fuck you Caleb you were never going to let me leave”
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A Burning Desire part eight
firefighter!joel miller x f!reader
series masterlist
rating: 18+, minors do not interact.
warnings: fluff, vulnerability, shimmer mention!, brief mentions of past verbal abuse, angst, mentions of pregnancy (reader’s sister), extremely inaccurate descriptions of how insurance / payout works (just go with it, it’s fiction lol), smut (fingering, m!oral receiving, masturbation, phone sex), no use of y/n. if there’s anything i missed, please lmk.
word count: 10.6k
synopsis: joel and tommy are sent on a dangerous work trip.
a/n: fuck. thanks for being so patient with me. there’s hints of foreshadowing in this unrevised (sry) monster of a chapter, and the next chapter will be angsty. i hope you enjoy tho. thx for sticking around and reading my silly little story <3
Getting back into the swing of things after the holidays has always deemed itself to be arduous. You’re lucky you work from home, but you’d taken on the responsibility of getting Sarah out of the house in time to drive her to school. It’s not that you mind at all, you just hate getting up out of a warm bed, especially when you have Joel as your own personal furnace now.
Having two weeks off of said responsibility was nice because you and Sarah got to sleep in and you made her breakfast with hot cocoa nearly every morning before you had to clock in for work. She’d spend most of her break over at her friend’s house or reading a book either in the living room or her room, anyway.
She has since gone back to school, and having the house to yourself again is still a bit unnerving, which is why it’s nice on days like this where Joel has off from work and can spend some time with you. Even if you’re stuck in your home office on days like today, he checks in on you once in a while to make sure you’re doing okay.
Today has been particularly hard, only because the client you’re working with is demanding as hell and your boss is jumping down your throat to make sure you appease said client. Your face is buried in your hands as you sit and decompress for a minute, and that’s when Joel decides to check in on you. It’s like the man has spidey senses for when you’re going through it or something.
“Hey baby, I brought you some—” He stops short when he sees the state you’re currently in.
“You okay, honeybee?” His voice is gentle and honestly concerned, and your heart melts yet again at how sweet he is.
“Work’s just stressing me out a bit,” you answer truthfully. You look up at him from your seat as he stands beside you, setting down a small bowl of fruit for you to snack on next to you on the desk. You softly smile at the fruit before looking back up at him. “Thank you, handsome.”
“Ain’t a thing, baby. ‘M sorry you’re so stressed. Anythin’ I can do to help?”
He steps behind you now and his large, warm hands land on your shoulders before he begins to massage them. You groan softly and loll your head to the side, rolling your lips into your mouth before shaking your head.
“Nah. Luckily this is my last day dealing with this client, so it’ll only be for a few more hours. Thank you though, baby. It means a lot.”
You reach up and grab one of his hands, giving it a thoughtful squeeze before you let go to reply to an email your boss sent you.
“Well what if I told you that I have a date planned for us this weekend?”
You look up at him with furrowed brows. “Where?” You ask, excitement taking over your body.
“Well, I know everythin’s been kinda hectic with my accident and me healing, your sister’s news, you movin’ in, the holidays, and Tommy and Maria’s engagement. We’ve been so busy n’ we’ve barely had any time to ourselves outside of the house in a while, so I wanna take you somewhere kinda peaceful.”
He doesn’t give away too much, but you’re already on board.
“You’ve got me intrigued. Can’t wait to see what you have up that sleeve of yours.”
“Good, ‘cus I also bought you a couple ‘a things to go along with this weekend’s date.”
“Oh?” You give him an incredulous look, but his boyish shit-eating grin is all you need to see to not ask any further questions, no matter how piqued your curiosity is.
You smile up at him and shake your head, focusing back on your work. You sit in silence for a couple of minutes as he continues to massage your shoulders while you type away.
“I’m gonna go on a run. I’ll be back in time to fix you up some lunch.” He kisses the top of your head before you look up at him with a small smile.
“If I wasn’t glued to this desk right now I’d join you,” you laugh. “Be careful out there, baby.”
“Always am. Maybe I can exercise you in another way later on,” he says, smirking down at you with mischief written all over his face.
“You’re insatiable, Mr. Miller.” But the idea doesn’t sound half bad.
He holds his hands up defensively. “Can’t blame a guy for wantin’ to love his lady right, can you?”
You roll your eyes with a laugh and tug him down gently by his shirt before giving him a lengthy kiss. You release him and pat his abdomen twice. “Have fun on your run, cowboy.”
-
After a long week, the weekend finally rolled around and Joel still wouldn’t tell you exactly what you two were going to do on your date.
He just kept reassuring you that you’d love it, and you’ve slowly learned to just go with the flow and not ask anymore questions.
He insisted you wear a blindfold this time, and made you get into his truck as he took the next few minutes to put whatever it was in the back seat before you both took off.
You ride passenger for about thirty minutes or so with soft tunes of George Strait playing in the background before you hear gravel crunch under the tires of the truck as Joel turns left.
“You aren’t exploring a new kink right now, are you?” You snort, turning your head in his general direction. “Blindfolding me like this just to take me in the middle of nowhere and have deliciously rough sex with me and make me fall in love with you even more, hm? Is this your diabolical plan?” You can’t help but wiggle your eyebrows at your own absolute absurdness.
He chuckles deeply and you can practically feel him rolling his eyes at you as the brakes squeak slightly and the truck comes to a slow stop. It’s silent for a moment before you hear him move, and you feel the heat of his body right next to you.
“Not today, sweet girl.” The deep raspiness in his voice sends a shiver down your spine. He huffs a laugh before kissing your cheek and taking off your blindfold.
You blink a few times as your eyes adjust to the light, the sun shining brilliantly on land—lots of it. Something shimmers in the distance, and you realize it’s a creek that runs along a trail that looks like it’s meant for horseback riding.
Then it clicks. You look at him with pure excitement in your eyes.
“Are we going horseback riding?”
He can’t help but grin at the giddiness in your tone. “Yeah baby, we are. Figured we’d eat first, though. Packed us some of our favorites and thought we could make a picnic of it as we sit by the creek.”
Your heart absolutely flutters and grows ten times fonder for the man in front of you, if that’s even possible. You try to hold back your tears of gratitude, but one can’t help it and slips down your cheek.
Joel wipes the tear with his thumb as he leans in to kiss your forehead.
You grab his face gently in your hands before admiring his beautiful brown irises.
“Oh, Joel,” you choke out, leaning in for a loving kiss. You rest your forehead against his as you sniffle once. “This is so thoughtful. This place is beautiful. Thank you.”
“‘Course, my honeybee. Life has been too hectic lately n’ I wanted to treat my woman to somethin’ a little more… relaxing.”
“What a lucky lady she is,” you giggle, smiling against his lips and giving them one more peck before you pull away. He opens his door and hops out of the truck, jogging over to your side to open your door before offering his hand to you. You take his hand and he helps you out, feet hitting the ground with a thud.
You both gather the stuff for the picnic before making your way over to the creek that was no more than a hundred yards away.
You set up the blanket on some soft grass as Joel puts the cooler down beside you both, and you sit down across from each other. You admire the atmosphere, with the sun beaming enough to warm you up some and the song of birds chirping in the trees. The sound of water flowing up the creek adds to the blissful ambience, and you sigh in content before noticing a house off in the distance.
“Does someone live over here?” You ask, stretching your legs in front of you as you lean back on your palms to hold yourself upright.
“This is actually my uncle’s land. Tommy n’ I grew up playin’ in these fields and this creek. We’d used to help him on the ranch to earn some extra allowance durin’ the summertime when we got older.”
You imagine a little Joel and Tommy running around in these fields whose grass sways with the gentle breeze—and then you’re picturing kids of your own. Kids that you’d eventually have with Joel. Hearing their little squeals of joy, chasing them around in the soft grass, making new memories for years to come. You imagine Sarah would be the best big sister, despite any age difference they might have.
“This place is beautiful, Joel. Does your uncle still own the land?” You ask, eyes shifting back to him.
He nods. “He does, but he’s had to hire help since he’s a bit too old to take care of the place himself. I know for a while he’d been thinkin’ about sellin’ it, but he says there’s just too many fond memories tied to this place.”
“That’s understandable. I can just imagine a young you and Tommy causing a ruckus around here,” you laugh, and he nudges your leg with his own.
“Don’t mean our mama and pops didn’t talk some sense into us,” he chuckles, face tilting toward the bright blue sky.
“Looks like it did you two some good. They’d be proud of you both, I’m sure. Wish I could’ve met them.” You give him a sympathetic smile, and he gives you a small sad one in return.
“They would’ve absolutely loved you, baby. I can just hear my mama now: ‘Bout damn time you wanna get settled down with someone nice,’” he sighs and reaches for you, and you maneuver yourself onto his lap. You rest your head against his chest as he wraps his arms around you, giving you a small squeeze while kissing your hair.
“She sounds like a lovely woman,” you say, nuzzling into his strong chest.
“She was. I’m very lucky to have had parents that gave my brother n’ I a great example of what true love really looks like, whether it was through their relationship with each other or the love they showered us with. I knew even back then that what Sarah’s mom n’ I had wasn’t true love. It was staying together out of convenience because she’d gotten pregnant. I really tried with her, but nothing made her happy. She became verbally abusive toward me after a while, too. It got even worse after Sarah was born. She didn’t want to be a mother. After everythin’ her and I went through, even after she left us, I’m grateful for her bringin’ my daughter into this world. I love my baby girl more than life itself,” he sighs, taking a breath for a minute as he recounts his past.
“Raisin’ Sarah as a single dad truly was full of trials and tribulations. I did have help from my family, which I’ll always be grateful for, but I was doin’ it all on my own for the most part. Havin’ the odd schedule I have now and makin’ it work around Sarah’s took a long while, but we finally got it down. Nobody had ever wanted to stick around after a night together because they thought that me havin’ a kid was too… complicated. I can understand it from their perspective, but truthfully, nobody ever gave me a chance to get to show them the real me. They just saw me as someone they can check off their bucket list and mess around with because of my job and the uniform I wear. And then you come along, unexpected, knockin’ me off my feet in the best way possible and showin’ me that love is still in the cards for me. You’re it for me, baby. I don’t think I can ever express my gratitude to you for showin’ me what it feels like to be seen and—god—to be loved the way you love me.”
You soak his words in before wrapping your arms around his torso. You press a kiss to his stubbled jaw, letting him silently know that you’re here for him.
“Thank you for opening up to me,” you murmur, tracing your fingers over his back in a soothing motion. “I can’t even imagine what that was like. I’m so sorry you had to go through all of that.” Your voice holds a gratefulness and sadness that isn’t missed, and he shakes his head.
“Thank you for allowin’ me to be my true self, emotions and all,” he says, and you hug him tighter. You recall him telling you that his ex would tell him ‘real men don’t cry’, and your heart hurts for him even more. How could somebody be so cruel to such a loving man?
He sighs and lays down, sun glistening against his beautiful golden skin. You admire his handsome features and softly smile as you bring a hand down to run through his curls.
He pops one eye open before giving your wrist a tug, and you land on him with an oof.
He chuckles and wraps his arms around you, trailing his fingers down so he can put both of his hands in the back pockets of your Wranglers.
“I love you so much, baby.” His voice is thick and low, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach.
“I love you too.”
The easiness of which the phrase rolls off your tongue is a beautiful thing, you think. You’ve come so far with opening up your heart to Joel, and he, you. You look down at him and savor the way his eyes look like a smooth whiskey in the sunlight, the way the skin around them crinkles when he smiles at you.
You lean down and finally seal your lips to his, and you feel him fully relax as he moves his hands from your back pockets up to the middle of your back and back down again. You stay like this for a few minutes, enjoying the feeling of each other as the soft breeze causes the grass to rustle and the sound of water and lips smacking is a harmony lost in the wind.
It isn’t until you hear his stomach rumble that you pull apart from him with a laugh, maneuvering yourself off of him to sit up.
“Sounds like someone’s hungry,” you tease, reaching for the cooler.
“I’m hungry alright,” he says, leaning over to capture your lips in yet another searing kiss.
“I’m serious Joel,” you laugh against his lips. “You gotta eat.”
He sighs and puts his hands up in defeat. “Fine.”
You nudge him with a grin before opening the cooler, revealing sandwiches, grapes, chips, waters, two soda cans, and… chocolate covered strawberries. You raise an eyebrow at him as he smiles sheepishly at you.
“Chocolate covered strawberries?” You parrot your thoughts, moving to sit criss-crossed.
“I know how much you like them so… I made ‘em for you special.”
If your heart could burst anymore, this man would probably be the end of you with his unconditional love. You don’t know how much more you can possibly handle, even though you know you’re going to spend the rest of your life with him. It’s the little things like this that he goes out of his way to do for you that has never been done by anyone, so getting used to his kind gestures has been a rewarding challenge.
“Thank you, honey. This is so kind of you.” You lean over to kiss his cheek before handing his food to him, and you both dive into your meals as you enjoy the serenity surrounding you. Then a pressing thought pops into your head. It takes you a few minutes to conjure up the courage to ask Joel the burning question on your mind, but you eventually find the words.
“Are you serious about wanting kids with me, Joel?” Your voice is soft as you look around again, then meet his gaze.
He swallows his food before nodding. “I’m one hundred percent serious.”
Your heart flutters. “You don’t think the age gap between Sarah and her future siblings would be weird?”
Joel thinks about it for a moment. “No, I wouldn’t say weird. Might just take some time t’get used to. Ever since she was a toddler she’d been beggin’ me to give her a sibling, but I obviously couldn’t do that considerin’ I didn’t have anyone to… procreate with,” he chuckles at the last part. You laugh with him and nod, swallowing the last bite of your sandwich.
“I couldn’t imagine growing up without my siblings. Even when there were times we all fought, we all still laughed about it later on and got over it quickly. Bless my mom and dad’s hearts, ‘cus I know we were all a handful.”
You smile as you reminisce growing up with your brothers and sister. You’d want your future kids to have that type of sibling bond, too.
“I know what you mean. I remember when my mama and pops told me they were havin’ another baby. I was over the moon about it, ‘cus it meant I’d have someone by my side for life. Tommy might be a grade A pain in my ass, but I’m grateful that he and I grew up so close together and stayed that way throughout adulthood.”
“I think Sarah would be a great big sister,” you say, and Joel sports a proud smile that makes your heart melt.
“I think so too, baby.”
“I never thought I’d be talking about having kids with a partner ever again, you know. I’m happy we’re on the same page about this. I think it’s important to discuss this even before we eventually decide to take the next step in our relationship.”
He nods in agreement as he opens the tupperware that has the chocolate covered strawberries, taking one out before bringing his other hand to coax your mouth open. He offers you a bite of the strawberry, and he finishes off the rest of it after you take your bite.
“I’m happy too, baby. ‘S good that we can clarify things now. I’ve never been with someone who can communicate with me so easily, so I thank you for that. I really am just a lucky bastard who got hit on at a coffee shop,” he chuckles, shooting you a wink as you laugh.
“Thanks for taking a chance on me, Miller. Glad I didn’t disappoint.” And with that, you lean in for one last searing kiss before you both finish off the strawberries and dust yourselves off as you take the cooler and blanket back to his truck.
You’re about to head for the stables in the distance, but Joel stops you.
“Wait, I have somethin’ for you,” he says, reaching further into his back seat. He pops his Stetson on and you bite your lip before shooting him a look.
“Haven’t we already established that you in your cowboy hat drives me absolutely wild?” You cross your arms over your chest as you continue to stare at him incredulously.
“Yeah, baby,” he laughs. “But now you get to match me.”
He pulls out another hat and spins around, plopping it onto your head. Your eyes also drift down as he hands you a shoebox.
“Joel, oh my– is this–?” You’re at a loss for words, and he sports a smirk on his face.
“Open the box, sweet girl.”
You do as you’re told, carefully opening the box to reveal a beautiful pair of brown leather cowgirl boots with white floral stitching across the front.
“Joel, these are beautiful. Thank you so much.”
“Ain’t a thing, baby. Try ‘em on.”
You slip off your sneakers and try on the boots, which fit perfectly. Joel adjusts the hat on your head before giving you his million dollar smile.
“Beautiful.”
“You think so, cowboy?”
“Absolutely. And y’know,” he pauses as he slides his hands comfortably on your hips, pulling you flush against his body. “Every cowboy needs his cowgirl.”
He gives you a twirl before dipping you, leaning down to kiss you before standing you upright.
You’re all smiles and giggles as you walk hand-in-hand to the stables, where one of the ranch workers greets you both with a smile.
“Hey Joel, you’ll be ridin’ Stella and Shimmer today,” the man says. Joel gives him a curt nod as the corner of his mouth twitches up into a half smile.
“Thank you, Drew.”
Drew tips his hat to you both before walking off to tend to the other animals near the stables, and you turn toward Shimmer as you begin to gently pet her.
“Hi beautiful girl,” you coo, stroking her snout. She nudges you gently and you grin before glancing at Joel.
“She likes you,” he says.
You beam at him before he chuckles and comes behind you, boosting you by your waist as you situate yourself on the saddle on Shimmer’s back. You continue to stroke her mane as you place your feet in the stirrups, grabbing a firm hold of the reins.
Joel follows suit as he mounts himself onto Stella, and clicks his teeth twice to lead the way out of the stables. Shimmer follows suit, and soon enough, you’re both riding side-by-side on the trail by the creek.
“Thank you for all of this,” you gesture your hand around you both before grabbing back onto the reins. “It means a lot to me. I had a lot of fun.”
“Yeah?” He asks, his voice hopeful.
“Yeah. It’s been absolutely perfect.”
You take a moment to admire him and how the sun’s golden rays shine on him as it slowly starts to set, casting a beautiful orange and pink glow in lieu of bright blue. He gazes at you with such a softness you’ve never witnessed before, and you think it’s a thing beyond love. Devotion, compassion, protection—all in a single look.
A look that has taken care of your heart when it was tender and aching, a look that has pumped it full of love again. It’s a look that flips your world around in the best way possible.
It’s a look that could make you cry. It’s funny, because you never used to be so in-tune with your emotions before. Before Joel, a majority of your life with and after Christian had you feeling so numb and devoid of any feelings or emotions. It was draining, and you didn’t think you’d ever be able to feel so lively ever again.
Well, never say never.
There are no words to describe the love and gratefulness you feel for this man riding beside you, but you know you’re going to spend the rest of your life proving it to him, even if it’s wordlessly done so.
-
A few months down the line, the ranch ends up becoming a small escape for you and Joel. When you both had free time, you’d slip away and drive to the open fields to enjoy the calmness of the water under the starry nights, laid up in the bed of his truck on top of a bunch of blankets.
It’s the only house around for miles, so it’s super private and quiet. It’s like your own little secret with him as you’d lay there, talking about anything and everything—and sometimes leading to more.
You’re in the middle of more, trying to muffle your moans with Joel’s mouth on yours as his fingers curl inside of you. You’re aching and needy, rocking your hips against his palm so your swollen clit rubs against his flesh. It’s intoxicating, the way his fingers move so perfectly inside of you.
You gasp against his lips as a dark chuckle rumbles in his chest.
“Thas’ it. Atta girl, jus’ like that,” he murmurs his praise as you rock your hips so willingly and meet every thrust of his fingers, so close to your release that your whines start to mesh with your panting. “You gonna be a good girl and cum for me?”
You fist his hair between your fingers and smash your lips to his in urgency, crying against him as a wave of toe-curling bliss surges through your veins.
”Oh, fuck!”
You gush around his fingers and down his wrist, and he lowly hums as your body convulses a few more times, stomach drawing taut as you come down from your high.
“Make such pretty messes, baby. So fuckin’ beautiful.” He kisses your forehead as he withdraws his fingers slowly, sweeping them over your sensitive clit to spread your arousal before bringing his fingers up to his mouth to suck them clean. You clench around nothing at the sight as your head falls back against the makeshift pillows, gaze bleary as you try and slow your breathing and heart rate by staring at the stars twinkling so brilliantly.
Joel dips his head down to kiss you, and you tangle your fingers through his curls once more before dragging a hand down his neck, to his chest, and down to the waistband of his sweats. You palm him through the material, arousal blooming in your core once more as you feel how hard he is for you. Feel how much he wants you.
You stop your ministrations for a beat, separating yourself from his lips as you lick the palm of your hand, only to dip it into his sweats and boxers to wrap it around his length. You give him a small squeeze and he groans, eyes fluttering shut as his head tilts back.
You huff a laugh and lean up to kiss at his thick, warm neck, licking a stripe from his earlobe down to his pulse point. You suck a little on the skin there, loving the way he twitches in your hand. He feels so heavy and warm, and all you want to do in this moment is take care of him the way he deserves—so you do just that. You slide your body down after giving him a kiss, and the dazzling look in his eye is all you need to keep this going.
You settle your shoulders between his thighs, now face-to-face with his weeping cock. You hum before giving the silky flesh a few more tugs before leaning forward, licking the salty bead of pre cum from his slit.
“Such a pretty cock,” you praise, rolling your lips into your mouth before you look up at him. He doesn’t say anything, but you can see the flush that has taken over his neck and face in the pale moonlight. His lips are parted and his breathing is a bit ragged, and he’s just waiting for you to pounce.
Usually, you love to tease him just to see how worked up you can get him, but you’re too impatient and want to hear those delicious moans only reserved for you.
You lick a long, wet stripe on the underside of his cock before sucking his balls into your mouth, pumping his length as you gently massage him with your tongue.
“Oh, fuck me,” he groans, hand shooting out to cradle the back of your head. You hum appreciatively around him, pumping him at a steady pace now before moving your mouth up onto his shaft again. You swirl your tongue around his tip a few times before taking him all, feeling his head hit the back of your throat. Tears prick your eyes as you try to swallow around him and refrain from gagging.
“Holy fuck, baby, you like doin’ this don’t you?” His voice is a deep, raspy mess, and you clench your thighs together at the sound.
He pulls your mouth off of him, the tip of his cock coating your lips in saliva.
“Answer me. You like this, huh?”
Fuck. The possessiveness in his tone makes you want to roll your eyes into the back of your skull as you moan, but you opt for a nod as you rasp out a yes.
“Look so pretty with my cock down your throat. Can fuckin’ see it when you take all of me.”
You suck in a sharp breath before your dazed, fucked out mind conjures up the words before you even realize it. “Like this?”
You lower your mouth back onto him, and he’s spewing a string of groans and curses together, and he eventually moans your name like a prayer on Sunday when you keep deepthroating him like this. You don’t let up, either. You know your throat is going to be absolutely fucking wrecked by the time you’re done, but it doesn’t matter.
Not when you get to see him like this.
He sucks in a breath through his teeth as you let up on his length and just focus your tongue and lips on his tip, making his hips buck up involuntarily. His fiery gaze meets yours and you can tell he’s nearly a goner.
“So…fuckin’...sexy,” he grunts. You grin as you kiss his tip and flutter your eyelashes up at him, taking him in your mouth and down your throat one more time before slowly coming back up, tightening your lips around him.
“Fuck, baby, ‘m gonna–”
He doesn’t have time to finish his sentence before he’s coming undone, coating your tongue and throat with his cum. His body shudders as you slide your tongue up from his length. You swallow and wipe the saliva off of your chin with the back of your hand.
“You really are somethin’ fierce, woman,” he praises. You’re too dazed to respond, so you offer him a grin and a kiss to his thigh.
Joel tucks himself back into his boxers and pulls his sweats up, pulling your body up to his so you’re cuddled into his side. He pulls a blanket over both your bodies and kisses you, and you nuzzle your head onto his chest. His steady breathing and strong heartbeat is what does you in before you even know it.
You wake up in a bit of confusion, amidst hearing a constant buzzing noise. You’re still in the back of the truck with Joel, who’s passed out beside you. His breathing is steady and he looks so at peace, so you try not to move around so much before you finally realize that Joel’s phone is ringing.
You have to dig around a bit to find it before you lift it up and squint against the bright light, only to see he has three missed calls from Tommy. Your heart drops, because Tommy is a huge texter. He only ever calls if something’s really wrong.
“Joel,” you rasp, throat sore from your earlier escapades. His brow furrows and he softly groans, and you softly tap his shoulder. “Baby, wake up. Tommy keeps calling you.”
His eyes crack open and he sits up, grabbing the phone from you. He dials Tommy back and presses the phone to his ear, still clearly trying to wake his mind up.
You can’t ignore the anxious thrum of your heart. You have no idea what it could be about, and Joel’s face reads worry clear as day. You wrap your arm around him and kiss his shoulder in reassurance.
“Tommy, what’s going on?” Joel asks, and you can faintly hear Tommy’s voice on the other end of the line, but can’t make out the words.
“Shit, okay. I’ll be back at the house in 30 minutes.”
Joel hangs up the phone and scrubs his hands over his face before looking down at you. He gives you an apologetic smile before leaning down to kiss your forehead.
“Sorry honeybee, we have to go back home. Our captain wants everyone at the fire station in an hour. Somethin’ important he needs to tell us all.”
You furrow your brows and sit up, starting to fold the blankets and pack them away in the cab of the truck. You ride in silence for about fifteen minutes, your hand on Joel’s as his sits comfortably on your thigh. His thumb brushes back and forth in reassurance, but your mind is reeling with possibilities of what could be so important for all of them to know.
“Do you have any idea what your captain might say?”
Your voice is soft with a sleepy lull to it, and Joel looks at you for a couple of seconds with a small smile on his lips.
“No idea, baby. It has to be somethin’ big ‘cus he only calls us in like this if it’s super urgent.”
You nod in understanding, giving his hand a squeeze of reassurance. You arrive home fifteen minutes later, and Tommy greets you both at the front door. You give Tommy a hi/bye hug and Joel a kiss before they’re out the door and driving down the street.
You decide to stay in the living room. Watch a movie or something, and wait for them to come back. You settle onto the leather couch, wrapping a blanket around you as you turn the TV on and keep it at a low volume. Exhaustion sweeps through your bones as you lay still. Your eyelids get heavy, and before you even realize it, you’re out cold once again.
-
The front door unlocking stirs you from your sleep, and the familiar tread of boots is heard walking into the living room.
“Baby, I’m back,” Joel says.
You open your eyes and yawn, gaze landing on the clock. Eleven p.m.
“Hey,” you say, voice timid. “How’d the meeting go? Is everything okay?”
You sit up, allowing room for Joel to plop down next to you. He spreads his legs and leans his head back against the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I have to leave. Well, Tommy and I have to go. There’s a huge fire that broke out in San Angelo earlier today and it’s spreading fast. They need all hands on deck.”
You take in the information and furrow your brows, pausing for a beat before speaking. “How long will you be gone for?”
He moves his hand from the bridge of his nose and looks at you with a sad expression.
“‘M not sure, sweet girl. Could be for a few days or a few weeks. It really just depends on the conditions of the fire and the surrounding areas.”
You nod in understanding before grabbing his hand, once again squeezing it in reassurance.
“When do you and Tommy leave?”
“Tomorrow morning. Captain told us to rest up as much as possible before we head out. It doesn’t look pretty, and it’s a four hour drive for us.”
“I think you should go wake Sarah up and tell her,” you say. He nods and kisses your head before he trudges up the stairs. You turn off the TV and follow suit, settling into your side of the bed after you wash up and change into your pajamas.
Joel comes into the room a few minutes later, closing the door behind him.
“How is she?” You ask, opening the covers for him. He strips down into just his boxers before climbing into bed with you.
He nods. “She’s okay. Sad that I have to leave, but I told her you’d take real good care of her.”
You huff a laugh and nod in agreement. “That I will, Mr. Miller.”
Then realization hits you—since Tommy is leaving, that means Maria will be alone.
“Are you okay if I invite Maria to stay over here while you guys are gone? I know she can take care of herself, but I’d rather her not be alone for however long.”
“‘Course, baby. ‘S your home, too.”
And, it is, which is an aspect you’re still getting used to.
He settles into you, nuzzling his face into your chest as he inhales deeply. He kisses the skin there once before wrapping his arms around you. You rest your head on top of his, running your fingers through his hair. He falls asleep in a matter of minutes, but you remain wide awake, plagued with the thought of him going out to do his very dangerous job.
You sigh and scold yourself for even thinking about that, because even just the prospect of telling him to stay is so unbelievably selfish. You’d never actually tell him, of course, but you think it and the thought is all-consuming.
You just worry, like any partner would, but you worry even more especially after the nasty accident he had. You know he’s been doing this for a long time, but you’ve learned that fires can be unpredictable and life doesn’t deal in absolutes.
A couple of hours pass and Joel is still sound asleep, meanwhile you haven’t gotten a wink of rest. Your eyes roam to the bedside alarm clock—four fifty in the morning. You sigh softly and get up as carefully as possible, trying not to disturb Joel.
Since you can’t go to sleep, you decide to use your energy to make Joel and Tommy some lunches and a few batches of your cookies that everyone at the firehouse loves so they have something to snack on while they’re on the road.
You start with the cookies and make enough dough for at least three batches, trying to stay as quiet as possible. You hand mix everything and put the three baking sheets in the oven, setting a timer on your phone. While the cookies bake, you make both of their lunches and pack them away.
You can’t stand still and need to keep your hands busy to distract yourself from your looming thoughts, so you go ahead and make a fresh pot of coffee, too.
You pour yourself a cup and put a dash of creamer in it, taking a sip as you lean over the counter and sigh. You close your eyes and rub your temples in an attempt to ease your mind.
You hear a door open upstairs and some shuffling down the steps soon after, and a sleepy Sarah emerges.
She rubs her eyes as she gives you a small smile, making her way to the barstool that’s on the other side of the counter from you.
“You’re up early,” you muse.
“Couldn’t stay asleep,” she says, and she looks at the oven as she sees cookies baking. She raises an eyebrow. “I’m assuming you couldn’t sleep at all.”
“You’ve got that right,” you huff a laugh, taking another sip of your coffee.
“I don’t want him to go.”
Her blunt confession takes you aback, but it gives you a bit of comfort knowing you and her are in the same boat.
“I know, sweetheart.” You reach your hand out to cup hers, running your thumb back and forth over her knuckles.
“I know he’s doing this for good. I just… I don't want to see him hurt again.”
You nod in understanding. “It’s a catch twenty-two.”
She sighs, and you round the counter to bring her into a hug.
“I know it’s not much of a distraction, but how about we go get a pedicure later on? Just to relax a little.”
She nods against you before leaning back to meet your gaze. “I’d love that.”
“Great. In the meantime, are you hungry? I can make you some waffles.”
“Thank you, but I’m not super hungry right now…” she pauses, eyeing the oven. “I’d love one of your cookies, though.”
You laugh and nod, your phone timer going off at the perfect moment. You take all three sheets out of the oven and set them down on racks, letting them cool down. You serve her one before starting to clean up, and that’s when you hear Joel’s heavy footsteps make their way downstairs.
“Morning cowboy,” you tease, pouring his cup of coffee as he stares at you two in confusion.
“Mornin’…you’re both up early.” He makes his way to Sarah and kisses her hair before moving to you, giving you a chaste kiss on the lips. You hand him his cup of coffee and he wraps his arm around you and gives you a gentle squeeze.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, taking a sip.
“What time do you and Uncle Tommy need to be at the station?” Sarah asks, biting into her cookie.
Joel’s eyes glance at the clock on the stove. “Around nine.”
It’s silent for a moment, and Joel looks back and forth between you both.
“Y’all still haven’t told me why you’re both up so early.” He raises an eyebrow, looking to you for an answer.
“Couldn’t sleep,” you shrug.
“At all?”
“No. I laid there for a couple of hours before I got up to make you and Tommy some lunch and a few batches of cookies for the crew while you’re on the road.”
Joel’s eyebrows tug together. He sets his cup of coffee down, circling his arms around your waist. He holds his arm out, silently coaxing Sarah to join in. She hops down from the stool and hugs you both, and you nuzzle into them both. You all stand there for a good minute before Joel is giving you both a squeeze and kisses your heads.
It’s like the sense of dread and anxiety hung in the air, and he clocked in almost immediately.
Not much gets past him—you’ll give him that.
“I love you both very much. I’ll be alright,” he says. “I promise to check in every day when I can, okay?”
His comforting embrace and reassuring words warm your heart.
You all untangle yourselves from the embrace, and you give him a soft smile.
“We love you too, Joel. We just worry for your safety.”
“I know baby, I know. Believe me when I say there’s nothin’ I’d rather do than stay at home with you both, but this is an all hands on deck situation.”
“We’d never ask you to stay, dad. We know this is part of your job and it’s important that you’re there,” Sarah says, pausing as a tremble overtakes her bottom lip. She wraps her arms around him, voice broken and soft when she speaks next. “Just be careful, okay?”
You can see a flash of emotion in Joel’s eyes as he hugs her back, leaning his cheek on top of her head.
“I will, babygirl. I swear to you.”
-
You’re standing in a small group in the fire station, getting ready to send Joel and Tommy off with the rest of their crew. You’re having a conversation with them two, Maria and Sarah when one of their coworkers—Mark, you think—walks up to you, holding up the bag of cookies.
“I just have to say thank you for these. They’re the firehouse favorite.”
You grin and shrug. “Not a problem. Just a small thank you for everything you guys do.”
He smiles at you and looks at Joel. “She’s a keeper, Miller.”
Joel wraps his arm around your shoulder and kisses your temple. “I know. I’m a lucky, lucky man.”
“Alright, it’s time to head out,” their Captain calls.
You sigh and turn toward Joel. You offer him a small smile as your heart clenches with anxiety, but your expression never wavers.
Sarah gives Joel a tight hug, expression still a bit sullen. You can tell she’s trying her best to hide it, but it slips through and it’s a look you recognize all too well. You give her shoulders a squeeze of reassurance
He has that look in his eyes. The one where it’s filled with worry, with anxiousness. The same look that’s probably in yours, too.
You want to lighten the mood, so you tug him flush against your body by pulling the leather strap of his radio holster that sits across his chest. He laughs as his hands land on your waist, and you push your lips to his.
You separate from him after a few seconds, smiling softly against his lips before you pull apart just enough to see those beautiful, worried brown eyes.
“Be careful out there, cowboy. I love you.”
He squeezes your hips. “I will, baby. I love you too.”
He leans down to give you one more peck on the lips before he moves to say goodbye to Maria. You do the same to Tommy, wrapping your arms around him and giving him a soft little peck on the cheek.
“Take care of each other, yeah? Life’s a lot more fun when you’re both here with us, unharmed.” You look between Joel and Tommy with a sternness they’ve never seen before.
Tommy’s eyes crinkle as he smiles at you, his dimple showing up along with a flash of white teeth.
“You got it, boss.”
He salutes you, and you sidle up beside Sarah and Maria as you wave them both goodbye. They climb into the same truck, and they’re on their way to San Angelo.
-
Two weeks have passed, and Joel still isn’t home. He keeps his promise on checking in every day when he can, sometimes shorter conversations than others, but you’re grateful nonetheless.
Today, your siblings all agreed that a lunch was much needed between you four so you could all catch up. It was the perfect distraction, and with Sarah at school and Maria at work, you agree immediately. It’s so odd being in an empty house when you’re not on the clock, and since you’d finished with your clients early, you had the rest of the day to yourself.
You meet up with them at a local diner, slipping into the booth next to Emily. She has a small belly now, and you lean down to air kiss it before greeting her, Andy and Cole.
“I’m so glad we got to do this,” Emily says, and you all nod in agreement.
“I know. It’s been awhile since I’ve harassed you guys,” Andy jokes. You roll your eyes and throw your crumbled up straw wrapper at him.
“So how goes it?” Cole asks, leaning back in the booth. The young waitress stops by your table to take your orders before collecting the menus, and Emily starts.
“Things have been great, actually. Baby boy is healthy and Josh got promoted at work.” She runs a hand over her belly, and your eyes light up.
“I’m so happy for you, Emi. How does Josh like the promotion?”
“It’s great, really. He gets more time off now, especially to come with me to my appointments, and he got a pretty significant increase in his salary.”
“That’s so good. I still can’t believe you’re having a kid. My nephew is gonna be a little stud with the coolest uncles,” Andy says.
“What am I, chopped liver?” You laugh, rolling your eyes.
“You’re only semi-cool. You’re with a cool guy, though, so I guess that raises your points.”
“God, you men are so fucking weird with your logic sometimes.”
“Yeah yeah,” Andy waves your words away, before his expression gets a bit more serious. “How is he though? How’s Tommy?”
“They’re okay. They’re exhausted, though. The fire had spread rapidly because of the winds, and they’re still in the process of containment, but I think it’s almost at one hundred percent.”
“Fuck. I can’t even imagine. We had a pretty dry winter too, which probably didn’t help much,” Cole says. You shake your head and gnaw on your lip, deciding to change the subject for your own sanity. Emily senses it, because your sister knows you like the back of her hand, and she finds your hand folded in your lap and gives it a reassuring squeeze. You squeeze right back.
“So what’s been going on with you two? Anything new?” You look between your brothers, and the waitress drops off your food before they can say anything.
Cole’s eyes avert to the basket of fries in front of him, and you raise an eyebrow as you watch him carefully. He finally opens his mouth to speak, but snaps it shut when Andy starts to talk.
“Not much. Work is good. Can’t complain.” Andy shrugs his shoulders and takes a bite of his burger, and you nod before looking back to Cole. You nudge his foot under the table and his gaze snaps up to yours, and you give him an encouraging smile.
“That’s good, Andy,” Emily says.
“I, uh, I met someone,” Cole starts. Everyone’s eyes shift to him, and he sports a small smile. “It’s still pretty new, though, so that’s why I haven’t mentioned it before.”
“Hell yeah, brother. Happy for you,” Andy claps Cole’s shoulder and he smiles.
“Where did you meet?” You ask, popping a fry into your mouth.
“Met her at the bar we went to a few months back. Finally bucked up and asked her on a date a couple of weeks ago, and it’s been going good ever since.”
Although Cole seems to exude confidence, you know he’s more on the shy side when it comes to romance. You and him have always been the shy kids, while Andrew and Emily were outgoing and bubbly. When Emily first told you to put yourself out there with Joel, the shy shell of a woman you used to be went into fight or flight mode—but she ultimately ended up being right.
You can hear it now: That’s what big sisters are for.
You’re grateful you and your siblings are all close in age. Although you’ve all fought over stupid, miniscule things that seemed like the whole world when you were younger, you all ended up being very close, which is something you’ll never take for granted.
“That’s great, Cole. I hope we can meet her when you’re comfortable enough to bring her around our crazy family,” Emily laughs, and you all chime in and chuckle along.
“I think Josh and Joel can attest to that,” you say. “I told him he could’ve run for the hills before Emi’s wedding, but that man stuck by my side and told me he wanted to meet all of you.”
“Now that—” Cole swallows his bite of food, “—Is a real man.”
“And look at how happy he’s made you. I love seeing you together, especially after everything you’ve been through,” Emily says.
Andy’s face turns sour, frowning at the vague mention of your ex. “If I ever see him in person again I won’t hesitate to deck him in the face.”
You didn’t have to question who he was. You already knew. “Get in line, Andy. Joel has first dibs.”
The corner of his mouth lifts up in amusement before he reaches out to you, palm upward, making a ‘give me’ motion with his fingers.
“Give me my ticket.”
You laugh and push his hand away, and lighter conversation ensues the rest of lunch.
The waitress drops the check off at the table, and you mumble that you’ll Zelle whoever pays as the other three fight over the check. Your phone rings and you pull it out of your pocket to see who it is.
Your eyebrows furrow as you see your attorney’s name across the screen of your phone. You slide the answer button over and cover your other ear so you can hear him better.
“Hello?”
“Hey! Long time no talk. I have some good news,” he says.
“Hey, yeah, how are you? What’s the news?”
“I’m good, but even better now—apparently whoever hit you in your accident was some big wig’s kid, and the parents want to pay you out a big amount for your car and, as they said, ‘any emotional damage caused by this accident’.”
“Oh fuck,” you say. You rub your forehead with your thumb and forefinger. “Sorry, sorry. Uh—how much?”
In all honesty, you’d sort of forgotten about your accident because so much has happened in your life since that day. You smile fondly at the memory of Joel kissing you in the back of that ambulance, within only hours of knowing each other at that point.
You had no idea that it would’ve led to this. A good life with an even greater man.
“They sent out a check to your house, but I think it’s in the hundred thousands range.”
Your eyes bug out of your head and your jaw drops.
“I’m sorry, what?”
Your siblings all look at you in confusion, but you still can’t wipe the look of shock off of your face.
Your attorney laughs at your initial reaction, but you’re still in utter disbelief.
You can’t even fathom that kind of money, but you’re sure your attorney is used to those kinds of numbers.
“Yeah, so keep a lookout for a check in the mail,” he says.
“Um, yeah, will do. Thanks for giving me a call.”
“Of course. I’ll touch base with you if anything else comes up.”
You say goodbye and hang up, and you meet your siblings’ gazes.
And, with a small smile, you pluck the bill from Andy’s hands. “Actually, lunch is on me today.”
-
You almost fall over when you open the envelope with your check in it.
Half a million dollars. You don’t know who the hell this kid’s parents are, but writing a check for five hundred thousand is fucking insane.
You stare at the numbers in disbelief as you sit at the edge of the bed, sun casting its brilliant golden glow across the paper in your hands. The paper that reads half a million fucking dollars. It’s like a jackpot lighting up in Vegas or something.
You don’t know how long you stare, but if you did any longer, your eyes would burn holes in the paper. You slide the check back in the envelope and put it in your underwear drawer underneath your sports bras, because you honestly just can’t believe that it’s real.
And later that night, when Joel FaceTimes everyone to say hi and check in, you don’t say a word about it.
It’s not that you want to keep it from him, but you have an idea of what you’d like to do with a portion of the money, and you’d rather keep that idea a surprise for the time being.
You trudge upstairs once more after Maria and Sarah say goodnight to Joel and Tommy, but Joel tells you to stay on the phone. He watches you do your night routine before you slip into an old oversized Texas A&M sweatshirt of his, sliding into bed.
“I miss my woman somethin’ awful,” his deep voice rings through the phone. You look at the screen and sigh, a small smile settling onto your lips. He looks so exhausted, and all you want is for him to be safe at home again. By your side in bed.
“I miss you too, handsome. How’s it looking out there?”
He groans as he settles onto a bed himself folding an arm to lay his hand behind his head.
“‘S kickin’ our asses. Embers from the original fire sparked a new one. It’s smaller, but these winds ain’t helping a damn thing.”
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry to hear that,” you say, gnawing on your lip as your eyebrows furrow in worry. “I feel awful that I can’t do anything to help.”
“There is one thing,” he says. You recognize the tone in his voice—want.
“What’s on your mind, Mr. Miller?”
“You wearin’ my old sweatshirt?” He asks.
You purse your lips and nod, watching how his expression turns lustful and determined in the confines of his temporary bedroom.
“Wearing it ‘cus it smells like you,” you confess.
A groan rips from his throat and scrapes low in your belly, and your eyes flutter shut as you feel slick already beginning to pool from the heat between your legs.
“Are we really gonna do this?” You huff a laugh, raising an eyebrow at him.
“I was a touch-starved man before I met you, baby. Then you go n’ spoil me with your pretty hands that can’t seem to keep to themselves.”
“You could always tell me to stop, you know,” you purr. There’s some shuffling on the other end, and you see his heavy lidded eyes gaze at you.
“I’d be insane to do so, darlin’.”
“Would you?”
He moans softly, and you realize he’s probably rubbing himself up. God, you wish that was your hand.
“Mhm. Love when your hands are all over me, especially wrapped around my dick.”
You can’t help but giggle, and a ghost of a smile curls at the corner of his lips.
“Love that sound, too,” he adds.
“You know what I love?” Your voice is teetering on the edge of a seductive whisper.
“Hm?”
“I love when my big, strong hunk of a man makes me feel so loved and protected. Allows me to delve into my femininity. Uses his strong hands and thick fingers to make me see stars.”
You realize you’re probably babbling at this point, but your words seem to do the job just fine. Joel’s eyebrows pinch together and that all-too familiar muscle in his jaw ticks wildly.
“Turn the camera around, Joel. Show me.”
He doesn’t hesitate to flip the camera around to face the impressive outline of his cock in the gray sweats he’s wearing. Your thighs clench together at the sight, imagining what it’d be like to grind on him until he came undone. Hear his moans and strings of curses as he reaches his peak.
“Fuck, honey,” you whine.
“This is what you do t’me, baby.”
His voice almost sounds pained, but you know it’s because he’s held in so much tension the past couple of weeks with no way to release it. You’d do anything to distract his mind from the exhaustion he feels and fires at hand, even if it’s for a brief few moments.
You decide to be a little raunchy, because fuck, you’re already in this position, and you want to be a good distraction—again—even if it’s brief.
You make a show of yourself sliding your fingers down the valley of your breasts and down your stomach, wasting no time to reach your desired destination. You swipe your middle and ring finger through your slick folds, coating them in your arousal before you bring your fingers up to show the camera—to show Joel—how much he turns you on.
You separate your fingers, and a string of your slick connects between the two.
“This is what you do to me.”
Joel all but growls at the sight, slipping his hand into his sweatpants to grab his aching cock. You can just imagine how warm and heavy it feels in his big palm, and you sigh at the thought.
“Fuck, baby. Be a good girl n’ touch yourself for me.”
He’s breathless, but the sound sends shockwaves through your body as more slick gushes eagerly from your aching, needy center.
You slip your two fingers in your mouth, humming around them as you taste the tangy-sweet flavor of yourself.
“Shit,” he says, a moan scraping from his throat. You grin like the Cheshire Cat before slipping your fingers down again, alternating between rubbing your clit slowly and dipping your fingertips into your cunt.
You flip the camera around to show him, and it sounds like he nearly whines from the sight. You suck in a breath as you stop teasing yourself, slipping the two fingers fully into yourself. You pump them languidly, and hearing Joel’s ragged breath and gasps on the other end of the line has you writhing.
“You don’t know how bad I wish these were your fingers and not mine,” you gasp out, grinding your hips up into your palm.
“Oh don’t worry baby,” he pants, “‘M gonna give you everythin’ you need n’ more when I come back.”
“That a promise?”
“Mmm—mhm.”
He matches the stroke of his cock with the pump of your fingers then.
“Can’t wait to be buried in that pretty little pussy. Take me so well. Fuckin’ made for me, baby. So fuckin’ tight n’ warm. ‘S like a dream,” he babbles, and you have to bite down on the collar of the sweatshirt to keep a moan ripping from your throat.
”Need your mouth all over me too, Joel,” you cry, “Love it when you let me cum by your tongue.”
“Yeah? Next time I’ll have you usin’ my face as a fuckin’ seat. Hold you down so you have no choice but to cum in my mouth over n’ over again.”
“Oh, god.”
“You like that, huh? The thought of fuckin’ my face to get you off?”
The words die on your tongue as you try to speak, but the pleasure that was once a low burn in your belly is now its own full-fledged sun. It’s so white hot and you’re on the edge, gripping the phone in your hand for dear life.
“Answer me,” he growls.
“Fuck, yes! Yes yes yes,” you whisper-cry, and you’re unraveling before him on camera. You soak your hand and undoubtedly the sheets beneath you, but that’s a tomorrow problem. Your body convulses a few times and you moan as you see the white spurts of cum land on his stomach. He moans your name like a prayer on Sunday, and it makes you shiver with seemingly untamable arousal.
He breathes heavily before grabbing a tissue to clean himself up, tucking himself back into his sweats before he flips the camera back around to his face.
His cheeks and neck are flushed, and you can see the sweat on his forehead as he tries to steady out his breathing. You stretch and roll over on your side, laying your head on his pillow to inhale his scent.
“I love you, my honeybee.”
You smile at the nickname and yawn, stretching your limbs one more time before curling in on yourself.
“I love you too, cowboy. I can’t wait ‘til you’re next to me in bed again.”
“I can’t wait either, darlin’. I hope this is all over with soon n’ I can love on you the way you deserve.”
You grin sleepily at his words, post-coital drowsiness wrapping around your body like a weighted blanket.
“Stay safe out there.”
“I will. I promise.”
And you’re fast asleep soon after you hang up. You dream blissfully of life with Joel in the fields by the ranch, of your future with him, of the memories you’ve yet to create.
You dream of Joel happy and safe, not an ounce of the beautiful man troubled.
But this is real life. This isn’t a fantasy where you can wish good things for people and it just magically happens at the snap of a finger, a rub of a lamp.
His resolve was slowly crumbling. The weight of the world was sitting steady on his shoulders, breaking him down piece by piece.
Each broken fragment of him, scattered and fragile, lay in your hands—
and this time, it was up to you to put him back together.
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#fic: a burning desire#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#firefighter!au#firefighter!joel miller#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfic#joel miller fluff#joel miller angst#joel fic#joel x reader#pedro pascal characters#joel miller series
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— HAIKYUU BOYS WHEN THEY WAKE UP NEXT TO YOU ! multiple
➥ pr : multiple x fem!reader
➥ syn : their reaction to waking up next to you.
➥ tw : fluff, none <3
➥ a/n : there there, a lil multiple for ya <3
The soft, early morning light filters gently into the room, casting a golden hue over everything it touches. The first thing he feels is the warmth of your body pressed against his, the heat radiating between the two of you making the cool air of the morning almost nonexistent. His arms are already wrapped around you, your body naturally nestled into his side, and for a moment, he doesn’t want to move—he doesn’t want to acknowledge that the world is waiting outside.
He slowly begins to wake, his eyes fluttering open just a sliver, not quite enough to make full sense of his surroundings. But enough to see you: soft, peaceful, tangled in the sheets beside him, your hair scattered across the pillow, and the steady rise and fall of your chest as you breathe in and out. It’s a sight that feels almost too perfect to be real, and for a second, he wonders if this is what paradise feels like.
The quiet sound of your breathing fills his ears, so soothing that it almost lulls him back to sleep. The urge to just stay here, to lose himself in the comfort of your presence, grows stronger with every passing second. His heart beats a little quicker, a little more tenderly, as he takes in the peaceful serenity of the moment. You look so content, so safe, so completely at home, and the thought that he gets to be the one who shares this space with you sends a rush of warmth through him.
He doesn’t want to wake you. He doesn’t want to ruin this perfect, calm bubble that exists just between the two of you. So, instead, he shifts, ever so gently, his chest tightening as he moves his face closer to yours. His lips brush against your forehead, soft and light, as though he’s trying to imprint the feeling of this moment into his memory forever. The kiss is brief, but meaningful—like a secret shared only between the two of you.
His hand moves automatically, threading through your hair, tucking a loose strand behind your ear, and his thumb softly traces the curve of your cheek as if to memorize the feeling of your skin under his touch. Every little action is a quiet declaration: he wants to be here with you. He wants to stay like this.
But reality calls. There’s practice to get to, responsibilities waiting outside this cocoon of warmth. He knows it. He can feel the weight of it, but the temptation to stay in this space, this private bubble where nothing matters except the two of you, is far too great. So he pulls you a little closer, his arms tightening around you, and closes his eyes again. He pretends to still be asleep, letting the steady rhythm of your breath against his chest lull him back into the haze of half-consciousness.
If he’s lucky, you’ll sleep just a little longer. If he’s lucky, he can stay here with you a little while more, wrapped up in the comfort of your warmth, the peaceful silence, and the simple joy of waking up next to you. For now, the world outside can wait.
USHIJIMA, ARAN, AKAASHI, ASAHI, KITA
He wakes up slowly, blinking against the soft morning light that filters through the curtains. For a moment, he’s still lost in the warmth of the blankets and the comfort of having you right there beside him. His arm is around you, your body tucked close, your head resting on his chest as you sleep soundly. Everything is perfect, so peaceful, and for a few seconds, he just lets himself relax in the moment, breathing in the familiar scent of you.
But then, his eyes flicker down, drawn to something he can’t ignore: the tiny trail of dried drool that’s escaped from the corner of your mouth, glistening faintly in the morning light. He freezes for a moment, unsure if he’s seeing things, but no, it’s definitely there. A little drool puddle, dried and stuck to your chin. It’s adorable in a way that makes his stomach flutter. The sight is so innocent, so human, and honestly, it’s the last thing he expected to see when he looked at you this morning.
He stifles a laugh at first, biting his lip to keep it quiet, but it’s no use. A low chuckle escapes him, followed by another, until he’s laughing freely, a sound that seems far too loud for this early hour. His whole body shakes with the laughter, his chest bouncing lightly beneath your head as you continue to sleep obliviously.
“Look at you,” he whispers, almost to himself, grinning like an idiot. “You’re so cute when you’re all… out of it.”
He reaches up, his fingers hovering near your face for a moment, tempted to gently wipe away the evidence of your dream-induced slip-up. But he doesn’t. Instead, he lets himself laugh again, louder this time, until it’s almost impossible to keep quiet. The sound of it fills the room, too bright and too carefree to be ignored.
The movement shakes you slightly, your breathing catching in a soft, confused sigh. A little groan slips from your lips as you slowly start to stir, your eyes fluttering open. You blink sleepily, still half-lost in the haze of sleep, and your gaze meets his—still smiling, still amused—and that’s when you feel it. The cold, sticky patch on your chin.
Your hand instinctively shoots up to touch your face, and when you feel the dried drool, your cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Did I…?” you start to ask, but before you can finish, he’s laughing again, louder now, unable to hold back the amusement in his voice.
“Yup,” he says, his voice full of teasing affection. “You were out cold. Drooling all over the place.” His grin is wide, almost mischievous, but there’s a softness in his eyes that makes it clear he’s not teasing you to be mean—he just thinks it’s the most endearing thing he’s ever seen.
You’re still half asleep, blinking at him with the kind of dazed confusion that only a morning hangover of sleep can give. His laughter is warm, infectious, and even though you’re mortified, you can’t help but smile at the way he’s looking at you. The playful gleam in his eyes makes it impossible to stay upset.
“Oh my God, are you serious?” you groan, trying to wipe your face with the back of your hand, but it’s no use. You can already tell you’re too late.
“Yeah, I’m serious.” He leans in closer, his eyes twinkling. “It’s honestly kind of cute, though. You’re just too adorable when you’re all zoned out. I mean, look at you.” He chuckles again, brushing a strand of hair out of your face like he can’t resist getting closer.
You groan and hide your face in your pillow, half wanting to bury yourself completely to escape the embarrassment, but at the same time, his laugh makes you feel warm inside. The sound of his joy—his pure, unfiltered amusement—suddenly makes you realize that this moment, awkward as it is, is something special. It’s the kind of goofy, intimate moment that only happens when you’re truly comfortable with someone.
“Don’t laugh at me,” you mumble into the pillow, though it’s clear your voice is fighting off a smile.
“I’m not laughing at you,” he says, his voice softer now, teasing but still affectionate. “I’m laughing with you. You’re just too cute when you’re not paying attention. Honestly, I wish I had a camera.” He lets out another chuckle, but it’s not as loud this time—more like a quiet, lingering smile.
You finally lift your head from the pillow, cheeks flushed but eyes bright, despite the embarrassment. “You’re impossible.”
“Impossible to resist,” he retorts with a wink, his hand now brushing against yours as he gently pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as if to make up for teasing you. It’s a small, sweet gesture that somehow makes everything feel right again.
You can’t help but laugh with him, despite yourself. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you mutter, before burying your face against his chest to hide the rest of your shy smile.
And as the two of you settle back into each other, the room filled with soft laughter and quiet moments, it becomes clear: even the embarrassing moments are the ones that make waking up next to him unforgettable.
ATSUMU, NISHINOYA, HINATA, KOMORI
The soft light of morning fills the room, gentle and warm, casting a peaceful glow over the two of you. You stir slightly, your body still nestled close to his, the quiet sound of your breath the only noise in the room. The world outside seems far away, like it’s not ready to intrude on the little bubble of warmth you’ve created together.
He wakes up slowly, his gaze falling on you, your face relaxed in sleep, hair spread across the pillow. Your breath is steady, the rise and fall of your chest calming him in a way he can’t quite describe. His heart feels lighter when you’re near, and in this moment, with you wrapped in his arms, the world feels perfectly in place.
For a moment, he just watches you, tracing the soft lines of your face as you remain blissfully unaware. His fingers rest gently on your arm, his thumb absentmindedly brushing over your skin as he smiles to himself, quietly, without making a sound. His chest tightens in the most beautiful way—a mixture of love, tenderness, and admiration he can’t quite put into words.
He can’t help it; he needs to say something. It’s an overwhelming feeling that rises up in his chest, and he has to share it, even if it’s just a whisper, even if it’s just between the two of you.
With a slow, careful motion, he shifts, drawing you closer to him until your head is resting even more firmly against his chest. He lets out a soft breath, his arms tightening around you in the most protective, loving way. His fingers brush through your hair, tucking it behind your ear with a gentleness that speaks to his deep care for you.
“Hey,” he murmurs softly, his voice low and full of warmth. It’s a whisper meant only for you, one that dances between the stillness of the room. “I love waking up like this. With you. So close, so peaceful.” He lets the words hang in the air for a moment, taking in the feeling of having you near. His chest rises and falls slowly, his heartbeat steady against your ear.
He smiles down at you, pressing his lips to your forehead in a soft, lingering kiss. “I adore you,” he whispers, his voice soft but full of so much emotion. “Everything about you. How you make me feel. How you just are.” His words are a quiet promise, the kind that only holds weight in the quiet moments of the morning when nothing else matters but the two of you.
He pauses for a moment, his hand tracing the curve of your jaw as he speaks again, his voice barely above a whisper but carrying all the sincerity in the world. “I never thought I could love someone this much. But here I am, falling deeper every day, every second spent with you.”
His words are like a melody, sweet and soothing, and they sink into your heart in a way that makes you feel entirely adored. You can feel the tenderness in his touch, in the way he holds you close as though he wants to keep you this way forever. Your heart races just a little, not from anything he’s doing, but from how deeply his affection resonates with you.
He presses his cheek gently against the top of your head, his arms wrapped tighter around you now, holding you as though you’re the most precious thing in the world. “I don’t ever want to let you go,” he whispers, his voice thick with the weight of how much you mean to him. “You make everything better. My whole world is brighter because of you.”
You don’t have to say anything; the feeling is mutual. In the warmth of his embrace, you feel safe, loved, and utterly adored. You can’t help but smile softly, nuzzling closer into him, your own fingers trailing up his chest to rest near his heart, as if to tell him you feel the same way.
His lips graze the top of your head again in another sweet, lingering kiss, before he gently whispers one last thing: “You’re everything to me. Don’t ever forget that.”
And in that moment, with the quiet serenity of morning surrounding you both, you feel it—a love so pure and deep, wrapped up in every whisper, every touch, every tender word. You know, without a doubt, that there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than right here, in his arms, as he holds you close to his heart.
DAICHI, KUROO, IWAIZUMI, TERUSHIMA, BOKUTO
The morning sunlight seeps through the curtains, gently bathing the room in a soft, golden glow. The air is warm and still, the quiet of the early hours wrapping around the two of you in a comforting embrace. He stirs awake, still half-dreaming, but immediately notices something strange. Something that feels a little… off.
At first, it’s just a subtle shift—a tightness around his body that he can’t quite place. He blinks, his eyes still hazy with sleep, and that’s when he feels it: your arms and legs are practically entwined around him. Your face is buried in his chest, but your body is draped over him like a sloth attached to its tree—limbs wrapped around him in a way that makes it almost impossible for him to move.
His first instinct is a small, startled breath as he feels the weight of you clinging to him, not entirely expecting it. He’d never really thought of himself as someone who would get trapped in someone else’s sleep embrace, but here he is, caught like a helpless prey. You’re heavy, warm, and—honestly—so close that it’s a little overwhelming. He tries to move, but your grip is like iron. He’s caught, held in place by your limbs as if you were a sleepy, affectionate koala.
“…Uh, okay,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible, his face scrunching in confusion. He shifts just slightly, trying to free his arm, but the more he moves, the more you seem to cling to him. He blinks, unsure whether he should laugh or freak out—this is definitely not how he imagined waking up today.
“Seriously?” he whispers, trying to move again, but your body only tightens in response. You’re out cold, not a care in the world, but for him, this feels like an unspoken challenge. How is he supposed to get up now? How does someone even get out of this?
For a moment, he wonders how long you’ve been like this. Has this been going on all night? He doesn’t even remember falling asleep this way. It’s definitely one of those moments where he realizes that he’s completely at your mercy, and you’re entirely unaware of the hold you have over him.
He lets out a quiet sigh, unsure of whether to laugh or cry, but before he can even fully process it, something happens. You shift in your sleep, a soft groan escaping your lips as you begin to wake. You blink, your eyes fluttering open slowly as the haze of sleep fades.
And then, just like that, the whole situation changes.
As you stretch slightly, your sleepy face turns up to meet his gaze, still disoriented and half-asleep. For a moment, you blink up at him in confusion, like you’re trying to make sense of why your arms and legs seem to have taken on a life of their own.
But then, that sleepy smile forms on your lips, your eyes still a little hazy, and it hits him. You’re so cute when you wake up—just like this, all tangled up and trying to figure out what’s going on. The adorableness of it makes him forget about the discomfort from before, and he feels a warmth spread through his chest, a quiet affection blooming in his heart.
“Morning…” you mumble, your voice still thick with sleep. Your fingers lazily brush his chest as if you’re still trying to make sense of where you are. And then, your eyes widen slightly, realizing how close you’re clinging to him, how wrapped up you’ve gotten around him.
“Oh,” you say softly, blinking up at him with the cutest, sheepish smile. “Sorry… didn’t mean to, uh, trap you.”
His initial awkwardness fades completely, and now, he’s laughing softly, almost shyly, as you still cling to him like a sleepy koala. He looks down at you, the corners of his lips lifting into a soft, affectionate smile. You’re still holding onto him, but it’s not the discomforting sensation it was before—it’s just… cute. It’s just you in your sleepy, adorable way.
“Yeah, you’ve got quite a grip there,” he teases gently, his voice warm with affection. He’s still chuckling, but his tone is more tender now, the smile on his face never quite fading. “You almost had me trapped there for a second.”
You blink, still a little groggy, and then you smile back at him, the kind of smile that makes his heart flutter a little. “I’m really sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking,” you murmur, a small blush creeping across your cheeks as you try to unwind yourself from around him.
He gently places a hand on your back, guiding you a little, but his fingers linger there, warm and reassuring. “It’s okay,” he whispers, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head, your hair messy from sleep. “I don’t mind. You’re just… too cute to be upset with.”
And just like that, the awkwardness is gone. The tension of trying to break free from your grip melts away, and all he feels now is a soft, tender affection for you. You’re his sleepy little sloth, and somehow, that makes him fall for you even more.
As you finally loosen your grip, and you both settle back into a comfortable position, he smiles to himself, holding you close again. “But next time,” he whispers, his voice low and playful, “maybe don’t try to suffocate me in my sleep, okay?”
You giggle softly, your eyes twinkling with a touch of mischief. “I’ll try,” you say, but you both know you’re still going to cling to him, maybe just a little tighter next time.
And he won’t mind one bit.
SAKUSA, TSUKISHIMA, KENMA, KAGEYAMA, KUNIMI
The soft warmth of the morning light brushes across the room, filling the space with a comforting glow. His eyes flutter open, the remnants of sleep still clinging to him. The first thing he notices is you, peacefully curled up beside him, your face nestled against his chest as you softly breathe in and out. You’re so close, so perfectly close, and for a moment, he just lies there, staring at you, completely still.
His heart swells with a quiet appreciation, an overwhelming feeling of gratitude. He’s always had a sense of pride in the things he’s accomplished, but nothing compares to the humbling reality that you’re here with him. That you chose him. He still doesn’t fully understand how he got so lucky, how someone as incredible as you could love him so completely, but he knows one thing for sure—he never wants to take that for granted.
He lets out a slow, contented breath, his gaze never leaving your peaceful face. Your hair falls in soft waves around your shoulders, and the way you look so effortlessly serene next to him makes his chest ache with affection. In that quiet moment, a deep realization settles in his heart: he is beyond fortunate to be loved by you.
A small, soft smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he carefully shifts, trying not to disturb you. He doesn’t want to leave this moment just yet, but a thought lingers in his mind—you deserve something special today. You’ve shown him so much love, and even the smallest act of appreciation feels like the right thing to do.
Slowly, he lifts his arm from around you, carefully extricating himself from your grasp without waking you. His movements are gentle, deliberate, as if he’s afraid that making any noise might shatter the quiet beauty of the morning. He stands up quietly, careful not to disturb the peace that surrounds you. His feet move across the floor to the kitchen with a quiet purpose, the weight of his appreciation for you still lingering in every step.
The kitchen is warm, and as he starts to gather ingredients for breakfast, a sense of joy settles over him. He’s not the world’s greatest cook, but today, that doesn’t matter. He’s determined to make something just for you, something that shows you how much you mean to him. Eggs, toast, maybe a bit of fruit—nothing extravagant, but everything he prepares is filled with love.
As he cracks the eggs into the pan, he can’t help but smile to himself. The sound of sizzling fills the space, and he takes a deep breath, inhaling the simple, comforting scent. His mind drifts back to moments shared with you: the way you laugh when you’re happy, the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you love, the soft way you cling to him in your sleep. You’ve made his life infinitely brighter, and he knows he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you feel just as cherished in return.
The food begins to take shape, and he adds the final touches—a little sprinkle of seasoning here, a touch of butter there. He’s focused, making sure everything is just right. He can’t help but feel a sense of pride in this moment, even if it’s something as simple as breakfast. It’s not about the food itself; it’s about the love he’s putting into it.
As he plates the meal, he takes one last look around the kitchen, then heads back to the bedroom with the tray in hand. His heart beats a little faster as he approaches the bed, the tray gently placed in front of you, who is still sound asleep, looking like the most peaceful thing he’s ever seen. He stands there for a moment, watching you, feeling a rush of emotion.
You stir, slowly waking up to the smell of food. Your eyes flutter open, and for a moment, you blink, trying to adjust to the morning light. When your gaze finally lands on him, a sleepy smile tugs at your lips.
“Good morning,” you murmur, your voice soft and warm with sleep. “What’s all this?” You sit up slightly, your eyes widening in pleasant surprise when you see the breakfast he’s made for you.
He smiles, his heart swelling with happiness. “Good morning,” he says, his voice full of affection. “I thought you deserved something special today. You know, just… a little way of showing you how much you mean to me.”
You blink up at him in surprise, the genuine sincerity in his words taking a moment to settle in. His gaze softens, filled with the unspoken truth of how much he loves you. “I’m so lucky to have you,” he adds quietly, his voice tender. “I know I don’t always say it, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fully express how much I appreciate you… for everything.”
The quiet sincerity in his words touches something deep inside you. You feel a warmth in your chest that mirrors his, your eyes softening as you meet his gaze. It’s rare, these quiet moments between the two of you—moments where the world slows down, where it’s just you and him, wrapped in the simple, profound bond you share.
You reach out for the tray, the gesture almost instinctive as you try to express your own gratitude in return. “You don’t have to do this,” you say with a soft smile, even as you take a bite of the food he’s so carefully prepared for you. “But thank you, really… this is perfect.”
The moment you take your first bite, his face lights up with a little, sheepish grin. “I wasn’t sure if it would turn out right,” he admits, but the joy in his eyes says everything.
You reach out, gently taking his hand, your fingers intertwining with his. “It’s perfect because it’s from you.”
He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment as he pulls you a little closer. “I’ll always do whatever I can to make you feel loved,” he whispers.
And in that moment, everything feels right. The quiet morning, the warmth of the food, and the love between you both—it’s enough to make him feel like the luckiest person alive. Because as long as he has you, he knows there’s nothing he could ever want more.
YAMAGUCHI, OSAMU, SEMI, TANAKA, FUKUNAGA
The soft, golden light of early morning filters into the room, the warmth of the sun spilling gently across the bed. You’re still sound asleep, your chest rising and falling with each peaceful breath. The quiet hum of the morning settles around you both, but your partner isn’t quite as relaxed. In fact, his eyes gleam with a mischievous twinkle, and the glint of an idea forms in his mind—a plan he simply can’t resist.
As you lie there, blissfully unaware of his devious intentions, he reaches for his phone with a quiet grin. The excitement of this “perfect opportunity” is too good to pass up. He knows he won’t get another chance like this, and the thought of embarrassing you later with these precious, unguarded photos is enough to make his heart race with playful anticipation.
With as much stealth as he can muster, he slowly leans over, holding his phone in position. He angles the camera just right, focusing on your face—your hair a mess, strands sticking out in all directions like a bird’s nest, and your features relaxed, still trapped in the haze of sleep. Your mouth is slightly open, a drool stain barely noticeable on your cheek. He bites his lip to stifle his laughter, his finger hovering over the button to take the perfect shot.
Click.
A photo.
You stir slightly in your sleep, but you’re still far too deep in dreamland to notice his evil plotting. He snaps another, just to make sure the first one wasn’t a fluke. There’s something about the chaos of your hair, the cute little snoring noises you make, and the utter disarray of your sleepy form that’s so endearing, it’s almost too much to handle.
Another click.
His smile grows even wider as he moves to get even more shots from different angles. You’re completely unaware of the camera flashing, your face a masterpiece of messy bedhead, and he’s getting the best material for future gaslighting purposes. The thought of teasing you relentlessly later, showing you just how ridiculous you look in the mornings, makes him feel both victorious and a little guilty.
But mostly victorious.
Finally, after what feels like a dozen photos, he decides he’s gotten enough “evidence” for later. With a satisfied grin, he gently sets the phone down beside the bed and leans back against the pillows, content with his devious little game. He knows the storm that’s about to come once you wake up and realize what he’s done.
As if on cue, you start to stir. Your eyes flutter open, blinking against the soft light of the morning as the haze of sleep begins to lift. Your gaze drifts to the side, and you’re greeted by the sight of your phone sitting innocently on the bed next to you, the screen glowing with a picture of—you. Your bedhead. Your drool-stained face. The mess that is your hair.
You groan, a deep, disgruntled sound as your hand instinctively reaches for your phone. “What the heck…” you murmur, still half-asleep. You frown at the screen, your eyes widening as you see what’s been captured.
“Did you seriously—” you begin, sitting up quickly, your messy hair flopping in all directions, as you glare at him with sleepy but fiery eyes. He’s sitting there, trying his hardest to look innocent, but there’s a smug little smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“What?” he feigns, his voice dripping with feigned innocence. “You look cute.” He chuckles under his breath, clearly enjoying the moment.
You scoff, swiping the phone and checking the gallery. It’s worse than you thought—there are multiple pictures. Multiple. And of course, they all feature the absolute worst moments of your sleepy self. You can feel your face heating up in embarrassment, and before you can even think about it, you whip your head back around, narrowing your eyes at him.
“You… took pictures of me in my sleep?” you ask, your tone half-laughing, half-scolding. “What the hell is wrong with you? I look like a literal disaster!”
He raises his hands in mock surrender, his laughter now spilling out uncontrollably. “What? I had to capture your natural beauty. You’re just too perfect, and I had to preserve the moment.”
Your eyes roll so hard it’s almost comical. “I swear to god, when I get my hands on you…” You lunge forward, grabbing the pillow next to you and swinging it at him with all your might.
He dodges with a laugh, leaning back and holding up his hands as if to protect himself. “Okay, okay! It’s not my fault you’re so photogenic when you sleep!”
You scoff again, but this time you can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips. The situation is ridiculous, and while you’re annoyed, the sight of him laughing, the playful gleam in his eyes, makes it hard to stay mad at him for long. You know he’s doing it because he loves you, and that, in itself, is both sweet and aggravating at the same time.
“I’m deleting all of these,” you mutter, swiping through the phone to erase the photos he so proudly took. “And if you ever try this again, I’m going to—”
But before you can finish your threat, he’s already launched into action, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back onto the bed, his arms wrapping around you tightly to keep you from grabbing the phone. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he says between bursts of laughter. “I’ll never take pictures of you again! Promise!”
You’re both tangled in a playful wrestling match on the bed now, his arms tight around you, laughing together as you squirm and try to get the phone back. He’s winning, of course—he always does—but as you both collapse against the pillows, breathless and still chuckling, you can’t help but feel content. This silly, chaotic fight is just one of the many things you love about your relationship.
And even though you swear you’re going to get him back one day, for now, you’re happy just being in this moment with him—ridiculous bedhead, terrible pictures, and all.
OIKAWA, SUNA, SUGAWARA, YAKU, SATORI
The room is still quiet, the soft morning light filtering through the curtains as the world outside begins to stir. The air is warm, and the only sounds are the gentle hum of the house and the peaceful breathing of the two of you. But something isn’t quite right. The bed is empty on one side, and there’s a slight disturbance in the blankets—no longer tangled around you both like they were just moments ago.
You’re still deep in sleep, completely unaware of the shift in the night. But for him? He’s just waking up, groggily blinking his eyes open. The familiar warmth of the bed is gone, and the soft comfort he’s grown so accustomed to next to you is nowhere to be found. Confused, he stretches, reaching for the sheets, but instead of feeling your soft body beside him, he’s met with—nothing.
He blinks again, still not entirely awake, his hand reaching out for any sign of you. And that’s when he feels it. The cold floor beneath him. He groans, realizing he’s lying on his back in a very not comfortable position. His body is stiff, his face already scrunching in disbelief as he starts to take in the situation: he’s on the floor, and not just any floor—your floor.
The realization hits him all at once. You kicked him off the bed.
A flash of memory comes to him from the previous night: a quiet shift in your sleep, the way you had turned and tossed a little before it happened. He remembers the sudden, unprovoked shove of your foot in his side. At first, he thought it was just a fluke, a gentle nudge in your sleep. But that turned into a full-blown push, sending him off the edge of the bed and onto the floor. Mid-sleep.
He lies there for a few moments, contemplating the absurdity of the situation, his brain still half in dreamland. He could’ve sworn he was just fine a few minutes ago. He could’ve sworn the bed was warm and cozy. But no. He’s here, on the floor, in the most undignified position possible. The worst part? You’re still sound asleep, completely unaware of the little disaster you caused in your sleep.
Fighting the urge to laugh (and maybe scream), he finally decides he’s had enough. It’s time to wake you up and let you know what you’ve done to him. But of course, he’s not going to make it easy. He rolls onto his side, groaning dramatically as he slowly drags himself up onto his knees. There’s a smirk on his face now. The playful look in his eyes is already there, ready to stir the pot.
With a deep breath, he stands up and inches closer to the bed, careful not to make a sound. You’re lying there so peacefully, all curled up under the covers, completely oblivious to the chaos you caused. He watches you for a moment, enjoying the softness of your expression, and then with a mischievous grin, he decides to go for it.
He bends down next to the bed and taps you lightly on the shoulder, his voice suddenly low and dramatic. “Hey,” he says, his tone feigning irritation, “did you, by any chance, happen to kick me off the bed last night?”
You stir slightly, a small groan escaping your lips as you begin to wake up. Your eyes slowly flutter open, still bleary from sleep. You blink a few times, the haze of slumber clinging to your senses. And then, you see him. Standing next to the bed, looking at you with mock indignation, arms crossed over his chest.
And then you realize—he’s on the floor.
Your eyes widen slightly, and you squint as you process what’s happening. The confusion fades quickly, replaced with realization—and then the laughter begins. You can’t help it. It’s like a switch flips inside you. The sight of him—your partner, the one who you know to be tough and capable—laying on the floor like an absolute mess, his hair ruffled and his face scrunched in a way that is just too hilarious, makes you lose it.
You sit up in bed, a loud laugh bubbling up from your chest as you clutch your stomach. “Oh my god,” you say between gasps for air, your voice practically cracking from how hard you’re laughing. “I kicked you off the bed?!”
He stands there, trying to maintain his serious expression, but it’s impossible. His face softens, and a little chuckle escapes his lips as he watches you dissolve into giggles. But he’s not done with his act. He crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes. “Yes, you did. And I have the bruises to prove it,” he says, though the effect is completely ruined by the smile that tugs at the corner of his lips.
You only laugh harder, and honestly, he can’t help but laugh too. The way you’re trying to hold it together, your face scrunching up in between laughs, makes everything so much more ridiculous.
You snort between your giggles, wiping a tear from your eye as you hold onto the blanket. “I’m so sorry,” you manage to say, but your laughter doesn’t stop. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t know I kicked you that hard!”
“You didn’t just kick me,” he says, finally letting his playful act slip. “You launched me off the bed. I was minding my own business, trying to get some good sleep, and boom—suddenly, floor.”
You’re laughing so hard now, you can barely breathe. The absurdity of it all is too much for you to handle. The image of him on the floor, looking all disgruntled and confused, just makes everything so much funnier. You lean over the edge of the bed, your face flushed from laughter, and reach out to tug at his arm playfully. “I can’t believe I did that!” you say, still laughing, though there’s a hint of guilt in your voice. “You’re lucky you didn’t break something, you goofball.”
He rolls his eyes, though he’s still grinning. “Lucky?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow. “I think I deserve compensation for this kind of behavior.”
You look at him, still in a fit of giggles, and then an idea strikes. With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you scoot to the edge of the bed and lean down with a teasing grin. “How about I make it up to you with snuggles and breakfast?” you offer, your voice dripping with sweetness.
He narrows his eyes playfully, considering it for a moment before shrugging. “Fine, I suppose that’s acceptable,” he says, finally giving in. But as he climbs back onto the bed, you can see him trying to suppress his own smile, the last traces of your laughter still lingering in the air between you both.
As you snuggle close, he drapes an arm around you, still shaking his head in disbelief, but the warmth between you both is undeniable. “I’ll get you back for this, you know,” he says with a grin.
“You can try,” you tease, your voice light and carefree.
And as you both lay there together, still smiling, you know this is one of those mornings you’ll both laugh about for years to come—when you kicked him off the bed, and he was the most adorable angry person on the floor.
HOSHIUMI, LEV, GOSHIKI, KOGANEGAWA, DAISHOU
Ⓒkiesbrainjuice all rights reserved. please to not plagiarize, repost, or translate !
tag : @haechansbbg
#⋆⋰☄︎ kie’s writes#haikyu fluff#haikyuu x you#hq fluff#haikyuu fic#hq x reader#haikyu smut#haikyuu angst#hq smut#atsumu fanfic#atsumu x reader#kageyama x reader#hinata x reader#bokuto x reader#akaashi keji x reader#osamu x reader#suna x reader#kuroo x reader#kenma x reader#oikawa toru x reader#sugawara x reader#hoshiumi x reader#daichi x reader#yaku x reader#asahi x reader#nishinoya x reader#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu smut#haikyuu drabbles#haikyuu
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hear me out! Hear me out!
Yandere!husband Anaxa x wife!fem reader
Fem reader as his housewife who is oblivious to his yandere things, she just thinking of him as a overprotective type, she like to shower him with kisses and other affection when he come home from work, prepare food for him to bring to his work. Just wife! Fem reader being a good and loveable wife 🤭.
Ohhhh good point!
Yandere!Anaxa x Wife!Fem!Reader
The morning sun bathed the grand estate in golden light as you hummed softly, carefully packing Anaxa’s lunch. His duties as a strategist to the kingdom kept him endlessly busy, but you always made sure he left with a full stomach and a heart brimming with love. As you sealed the final container, warm hands encircled your waist from behind.
“Darling, you’re spoiling me again” Anaxa murmured, his deep voice carrying a hint of amusement as he pressed a kiss to the nape of your neck.
You giggled, leaning into his embrace. “That’s my job as your wife, isn’t it?” Turning around, you cupped his face in your hands, admiring his sharp features and piercing gaze, softened only when he looked at you. “I want you to be healthy. Who else will come home for my kisses if not you?”
Anaxa’s lips curled into a smirk, but his arms tightened around you. “You always say such dangerous things, my sweet wife. You know I can’t bear the thought of being away from you.”
You pouted playfully, standing on your toes to pepper kisses all over his face. “Then hurry home today. I’ll be waiting with dinner, and of course, all the kisses you want.”
His eyes darkened, but you thought it was simply his usual overprotective streak. You never noticed the way his fingers twitched, itching to eliminate anything that dared to steal even a fraction of your affection. With one final, lingering kiss to your forehead, Anaxa departed for the palace, leaving you to your daily routine of keeping the house warm and filled with love.
That evening, as the sky deepened into hues of violet and gold, you stood by the front door, eagerly awaiting Anaxa’s return. When the heavy doors finally creaked open, your excitement turned to concern.
Anaxa staggered inside, his usually composed expression marred by exhaustion. His forehead glistened with sweat, his steps slow and unsteady.
“Anaxa!” You rushed to his side, pressing your palm to his forehead. “You’re burning up!”
He let out a breathy chuckle, though his usual confidence was dulled by his fever. “It’s nothing, my love. Just a long day.”
“Nonsense, you’re sick!” you scolded gently, already guiding him toward the bedroom. “You work too hard. I keep telling you to take breaks.”
He let you fuss over him, his eyes half-lidded as he watched you with adoration. You were so utterly devoted, so beautifully oblivious to the lengths he went to ensure your world remained untouched by anything unpleasant.
As you dabbed a cool cloth against his forehead, you sighed. “You’re always protecting me. But who’s going to protect you if you don’t let me take care of you?”
His heart clenched at your sincerity, at the way you loved him so purely despite his countless sins.
With what little strength he had, Anaxa reached for your hand, bringing it to his lips. “Only you, my love” he murmured, his fever making his voice raw yet undeniably affectionate. “I belong only to you.”
You smiled, unaware of the weight behind his words. To you, he was simply your devoted, overprotective husband. To Anaxa, you were the sole light in his world, a light he would destroy kingdoms to keep.
That night, you stayed by Anaxa’s side, ensuring he was comfortable as he rested. He was feverish, but the way he clung to you didn’t change. Even in his weakened state, his arms encircled your waist, refusing to let you stray too far.
“Darling, you should sleep” you murmured, brushing damp strands of his hair away from his face.
His eyes flickered open slightly, locking onto you. “Only if you stay.”
You smiled, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead. “Of course. I’m not going anywhere.”
Satisfied with your promise, he finally allowed his body to relax. His breathing steadied, and for the first time that day, he seemed at peace. You continued to stroke his hair, humming softly until you, too, drifted into sleep beside him.
The next morning, Anaxa was still unwell, though the fever had gone down. You insisted he remain in bed, fussing over him with the utmost care.
“You’re not going to work today” you declared firmly, placing a tray of warm porridge and herbal tea on the bedside table. “The kingdom can survive a day without you.”
Anaxa huffed a quiet laugh, clearly amused by your determination. “You truly are the only one who dares to order me around, my love.”
You pouted. “And you always listen, don’t you?”
“Of course” he murmured, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along your wrist. “Because everything you do is out of love.”
You beamed, pleased with his response, and leaned forward to press a flurry of kisses all over his face. “Good! Then be a good patient for me, alright?”
He sighed in contentment, basking in your affection. His fever may have left his body weak, but the warmth of your love filled him with a different kind of strength, the kind that made him certain he would do anything to protect this life you shared.
Anaxa remained bedridden for the rest of the day, much to his quiet frustration. His body was still weak, his mind dulled by the remnants of fever, but you were adamant that he rest. You spent the morning at his side, feeding him small spoonfuls of warm porridge and herbal tea.
“See? Isn’t it nice to be taken care of for once?” you teased as you dabbed a cool cloth against his forehead.
Anaxa exhaled softly. “If it means you’ll spoil me like this, I might consider falling ill more often.”
You gasped, lightly swatting his arm. “Don’t joke about that! I hate seeing you sick.”
His smirk softened into something more tender as he reached for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. “And I hate worrying you, my love.”
Your lips curled into a warm smile. “Then get better soon, alright? You’re not allowed to work yourself to exhaustion anymore.”
Anaxa chuckled but didn’t argue. He could never refuse you, not when you looked at him with such pure devotion. As the day passed, you busied yourself around the house, making sure everything was in order while also preparing a nourishing dinner for Anaxa. Every so often, you’d check in on him, pressing your palm against his forehead to ensure his fever didn’t return.
By evening, he was already feeling much stronger. Though you insisted he stay in bed, he stubbornly pulled you into his arms the moment you entered the room.
“You should be resting” you scolded lightly, though you didn’t resist as he held you close.
“I am” he murmured against your hair. “You’re the best medicine I could ask for.”
You giggled, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “You always say the sweetest things.”
Only for you, he thought. Only you deserved his kindness, his warmth. The rest of the world, those who threatened to take even a fraction of your attention away from him, deserved nothing but his cold, calculated ruthlessness.
Anaxa recovered quickly over the next few days, much to your relief. You resumed your usual routine, preparing his meals, seeing him off to work, and welcoming him home with your endless affection.
Everything seemed normal.
But something was different.
You couldn’t quite place it, but Anaxa had been acting a little… off. He was always protective, yes, but now it felt almost suffocating. His touch lingered longer, his eyes never strayed from you, and whenever you mentioned running errands alone, his expression would darken in an almost imperceptible way.
Then, one evening, the illusion of normalcy finally shattered.
Anaxa returned home late that night, his cloak slightly disheveled, his usual pristine gloves stained with something dark.
You gasped the moment he stepped inside. “Anaxa! You’re hurt!”
Rushing to him, you reached for his hands, but he swiftly pulled them back.
“It’s nothing, my love” he said “Just a matter that needed handling.”
Your brows furrowed. “But your gloves—”
“It’s not my blood.”
That should have reassured you. It should have made you sigh in relief. And yet, a cold shiver ran down your spine at the way he said it, so casually, as if it was an afterthought.
You swallowed, trying to push the unease away. “At least let me clean you up.”
He hesitated for a brief moment before finally allowing you to take his hand. You peeled off his stained gloves, revealing his pale, unscathed skin beneath.
No wounds. No injuries. Just blood.
You tried not to let your hands tremble as you wiped them clean, your mind racing with unspoken questions. Who did this blood belong to? What exactly had Anaxa done today?
You knew he worked as the kingdom’s strategist, handling delicate matters behind the scenes. But you had never questioned the extent of his duties. Not until now.
Sensing your unease, Anaxa suddenly lifted your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. His touch was gentle, but his eyes- oh, his eyes were unreadable.
“My love” he murmured, stroking your cheek with his newly cleaned hand. “You trust me, don’t you?”
The way he asked wasn’t pleading, it was a statement, a quiet demand wrapped in velvet.
You hesitated for only a second, and that was enough for his fingers to tighten slightly around your chin.
“Of course, I do” you answered quickly, offering him a reassuring smile. “I just… worry about you.”
Anaxa searched your face for any trace of doubt before his grip softened. “There’s no need to worry” he assured you, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “As long as I am here, nothing will ever harm you.”
His words should have been comforting. But they weren’t. Because as he held you close, whispering sweet promises into your ear, you finally understood. Anaxa wasn’t just protecting you from harm. He was eliminating anyone he deemed a threat—without hesitation, without remorse.
One morning, as you were tidying the house, you noticed that some of your letters were missing—the ones from an old friend who had recently visited the city. You frowned, searching through your drawers. Strange, you could have sworn you left them here.
Before you could dwell on it, the front door opened.
“I’m home” Anaxa’s deep voice rang through the house.
Your thoughts immediately scattered. Smiling, you rushed to greet him, throwing your arms around his neck. “Welcome back, my love!”
He wrapped his arms around you, holding you a second longer than usual. “You missed me that much?”
“Always.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek before pulling back. “You’re home early today. That’s rare.”
Anaxa hummed, his hand sliding down to rest at your lower back. “I had no reason to linger at the palace. Everything I do is for you, after all.”
His words made your heart flutter, and you laughed, leaning up to kiss him again. “Flatterer. Come sit, I’ll bring you some tea.”
Later that evening, as you set the table for dinner, you hesitated before asking, “By the way, have you seen the letters from my friend? The ones I left in the drawer?”
Anaxa, who was removing his gloves, paused for only a fraction of a second before continuing. “Letters?”
You nodded, glancing toward the desk. “Yes, I wanted to reply, but I couldn’t find them.”
His eyes met yours. Then, he sighed, shaking his head. “I had them disposed of.”
You blinked. “You… what?”
“They were unnecessary.” His voice remained calm, as if he were simply discussing palace affairs. “You don’t need to waste time on people who don’t matter.”
For a moment, you just stared at him, unsure if you heard correctly. “But they were my letters, Anaxa. My friend wrote to me.”
Anaxa exhaled softly, standing from his seat. In two steps, he was in front of you, tilting your chin up with gentle fingers.
“You already have everything you need right here, don’t you? You don’t need distractions.”
You forced a small smile. “You’re really overprotective sometimes, you know that?”
Anaxa’s lips curled slightly. “Only because I love you.”
He kissed your forehead, lingering for a moment before finally releasing you.
You didn’t press the matter further.
But that night, as you lay in bed beside him, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Anaxa had decided something for you. And you weren’t sure if you would ever be able to change his mind.
The air between you and Anaxa felt heavier than usual. You tried not to dwell on it, tried to convince yourself that he only acted out of love, but the unease remained.
Still, he was your husband, the man who cherished you, who came home every night to your kisses and warmth. You didn’t want this small rift to linger. So, you decided to mend things in the way you knew best: with love.
That evening, you prepared an elaborate dinner, filling the table with all of Anaxa’s favorite dishes. You carefully arranged everything, ensuring the presentation was perfect.
When he stepped through the door, his eyes flickered in surprise at the sight of the candlelit table.
“What’s this?” he asked, his voice smooth yet cautious.
You approached him with a warm smile, wrapping your arms around his waist. “A special dinner for my special husband.”
His gaze softened instantly, and he let out a quiet chuckle.
You led him to his seat, watching as he took his first bite. His expression remained unreadable, but the subtle way his shoulders relaxed told you he appreciated the effort.
As you ate together, you finally gathered the courage to speak.
“Anaxa,” you began hesitantly. “About earlier…”
He set his utensils down. “You’re still thinking about that?”
You exhaled, trying to choose your words carefully. “I just… I want you to understand that my friends aren’t a threat to us. I love you more than anything, but I also have people I care about.”
His expression remained unreadable for a long moment. Then, slowly, he sighed.
“I know.”
You blinked in surprise.
He leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “I know I can be overbearing” he admitted, his voice quieter. “It’s just… I can’t stand the thought of losing you. Even the smallest distractions feel like something that could take you away from me.”
Your heart clenched.
Oh. So that’s what it was.
You reached across the table, gently taking his hand. “Anaxa… you’re not going to lose me. Ever. I chose you. And I’ll keep choosing you, every single day.”
His fingers tightened around yours, and for the first time in days, the tension in his body seemed to ease.
“You promise?”
You smiled, standing up and moving around the table to sit on his lap. He stiffened slightly at first, but you cupped his face, kissing him sweetly.
“I promise.” you murmured against his lips.
Anaxa exhaled slowly, his arms wrapping around you, holding you impossibly close. Perhaps he was possessive. Perhaps his love was intense. But he was yours, just as you were his. And he was more than content.
#yandere x reader#yandere#hsr x reader#honkai star rail anaxa#hsr anaxa#anaxa x reader#anaxa#honkai star rail#yandere honkai star rail#yandere hsr x reader#hsr x you#hsr x y/n
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late night (g. suguru x reader)
—mdni 18+
summary: on your way from the kitchen you stumble upon your roommates best friend suguru geto who decides he needs a midnight snack; you.
cw: fingering, drooling, cunnilingus
this is entirely self-indulgent. oopsies
quietly, you pad down the hallway to the dark kitchen, softly humming to yourself as you grab a glass and fill it with water. you set the glass on the counter then turn to flick the light on, nearly jumping when a pair of dark brown eyes meet yours, his hair half up.
“oh! ‘m sorry suguru, I didn’t know you were still awake.”
suguru geto was your roommate shoko’s best friend, and someone you’ve grown very fond of. it certainly didn’t hurt that he was one of the most attractive men you’ve ever met and one you’d touched yourself to the thought of plenty of times before bed.
“no, can’t sleep.”
he’s sitting on the couch which is positioned behind the l-shaped kitchen counter, phone in hand. his dark eyes stay on yours for a few long moments, then slowly scan down the length of your body, lingering on your legs. his eyes flick back up to yours, then pats the spot on the couch next to him.
and really, you should grab your glass and make your way back to your room, but the way his gaze rakes over you has you feeling emboldened.
you leave your glass of water on the counter and slowly walk to the couch where he sits. ignoring the heat in your cheeks brought by the sudden realization that you currently are only in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties, you take a seat, sitting only a foot away from the dark haired man.
he reaches forward and grabs the remote, turning it on and flicking to a random channel. it’s so late that all they are playing are decades old sitcoms, and you pretend to watch, the silence making you nervous. you eye him several times out of the corner of your eye, wondering what the hell he’s thinking.
it’s quiet for a few more moments before the old laugh track on the tv booms, making you jump a little.
suguru turns his head to watch you, a small smirk on his face.
“jumpy tonight?” he asks, glancing at you and tilting his head, eyes gleaming in the dim room.
you reach down to nervously play with the hem of your shirt, your earlier feelings of bravery dissipating by the second.
“s—sorry.” you mumble, settling further in the couch, your fingers clenching tightly around your shirt hem.
a sly smile spreads on his face as he hums in response, turning his attention back to the tv.
nothing happens for a few moments, and you press yourself into the couch, desperately trying to wipe the pout off your face.
why are we just sitting here? you wonder.
but then you startle as he shifts, warm fingers settling gently on your thigh. he doesn’t move for a while, the warmth of his hand causing goosebumps to pebble all over your skin. suddenly his fingers twitch and start rubbing gentle circles on the top of your thigh. this continues for the rest of the episode before moving down to the soft inner flesh of your thighs.
his fingertips gently stroke over your skin, back and forth until you’re twitching slightly next to him. his fingers then dig in slightly, massaging the taut muscles, every once in a while fingertips gently skim the corner edge of your panties.
he does this over and over, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye every so often, but mostly pretending like he wasn’t doing anything at all (much to your dismay). the ministrations were getting to be too much, your jaw locked and teeth clenched to keep any sounds of pleasure from escaping. but it was getting harder and harder, your brain turning to mush as his fingers kept creeping closer and closer to your wet heat.
you slide your hand around his wrist, nails digging into the skin of his wrist to find purchase in something.
suddenly, a fingertip brushes against your clothed pussy, and you audibly gasp at the sensation, legs falling open a few inches in response. he does it again, this time gently pressing his finger over your clothed entrance, eyes now wholly focused on you.
“your panties are soaked, angel.” he whispers casually, pressing the pad of his finger into the spot again, eyes slightly hooded. a low whine escapes from you, and he moves both hands under your shirt to grip your waist. he then fists the material there, eyes locked on the tightening fabric against your tits. he wets his lips, and to your surprise leans down to suck on your nipple through the fabric, moving back to watch the darkened spot peek through the now damp white fabric.
you push at his hands, sitting up to shuck the shirt off, cheeks warming as his eyes stay right on your tits. his tongue pokes out, licking his lips before glancing back up at you, a slightly dazed look in his eyes.
he brushes a thumb over your pert nipple, a cocky grin lighting his face as you gasp out a whimper. he does it again, flicking it lightly before moving his attention back down to your pussy. he huffs out a laugh, the pad of his finger hovering over your entrance.
“so…greedy” he says lowly, voice husky.
he taps once, twice, your legs involuntarily convulsing with every tap. suguru then hooks your panties to the side, a long finger slowly dipping into your wet heat. a shaky moan breaks free from you as he adds a second finger, starting to slowly twist his fingers around inside you. he withdraws the digits, making intense eye contact with you as he brings them, glistening, to his mouth, sucking lewdly.
you stare open-mouthed as he smirks then licks his lips.
you stare open-mouthed as he smirks then licks his lips. you yelp as his hand strikes out faster than an adder, gripping your panties and pulling, the sound of fabric tearing filling the room. gaping at him, you watch as he throws the material behind him, before he settles himself in between your legs and slowly pushes his two fingers back inside of you.
you moan at the feeling, clawing at the couch before reaching down to sink your hands into his soft black tresses. it’s so soft you muse to yourself, tugging slightly.
he groans at the feeling of your fingers tugging on his hair.
he looks up at you briefly, before slowly adding a third finger. you tug his hair harder, hips pushing towards him at the feeling of being slightly stretched.
your eyes roll back as he curls one of the fingers inside of you, immediately hitting your soft pleasure point.
he moves his fingers at a leisurely pace, dark eyes filled with something akin to wonder at your reactions. without warning he retracts his fingers, hooking them around your ankles and tugging hard, your body scooting to the end of the couch. he moves to the floor, getting on knees then spreading your legs.
“what are you—oh.” you cut yourself off with a moan as he leans forward, large hands keeping your thighs spread open as he attaches his lips to your clit.
he hums, your legs twitching at the sensation.
“you—ah, right there” you mewl, walls contracting as his tongue flicks your clit.
he works his tongue around your clit, then sinks a finger into you once more. you let out a moan, gyrating your hips against his face.
it doesn’t take long before the pleasure starts building hard and fast in your lower belly, the combination of his finger pressing into your g-spot and his tongue working circles on your clit causing your walls to start fluttering.
“oh—sugu—fuck. I’m gonna, gonna—“ you stutter out, drool gathering in the corners of your mouth as you tip over the edge.
“that’s it sweetheart, come for me.” he mumbles into you. he’s got you gasping and moaning as he keeps moving till you’re twitching from the overstimulation.
you collapse back onto the couch, making eye contact with suguru as he lifts his head from between your thighs. his dark eyes are sparkling and slightly hooded as he gazes up at you. his lips are glistening slightly, and the sight nearly makes your mind go dumb.
“been wanting to do that forever, princess.”
#geto x reader#geto x you#geto smut#suguru x you#suguru smut#suguru x reader#suguru geto x reader#jjk x you#jjk smut#suguru geto x you#suguru geto smut
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MILLLLAAAAAA I have not known peace since reading this
First of all, the tension. The history. The forbidden desire just simmering under the surface, waiting to explode. Every single moment had me gripping my phone like it owed me money.
The fact that they had all this unresolved emotion and then bam—thrown into the most intimate scene imaginable??
This was SO intense, so raw, so emotional—and the way it all came back to them in the end??? Like, she wrote the script for him. She was always going to find her way back to him.
I am never recovering from this. EVER I am crying in the club, hiding in the bathroom, sobbing into my pillow. okay favorite parts timeeeee - and this is my live reaction so excuse every emotional rollercoaster I hit here....
-> WAHHHHHH FJSDKJSDKLJF already killing me goddamnit He closed it and took a moment before rereading the first page, with the name left blank. It could only be you. That was the only explanation for getting a script without the name of the author on it. And there was no way the scene he had just read, so familiar, so intimate, could be coincidental. Or could be written by anyone else. He grabbed his phone and sent a message to his agent, unable to contain his annoyance.that’s fucked up, Will*Will calling* -> OKAYY I SEE HOW IT IS YOU WANT ME TO CRY ALREADY HUH? “It’s… damn, Will, it’s our story, ok? Or a part of it, I don't know. Anyway I can’t play this. Can’t play me.”
-> WHAAAA I CANT DO THIS I CANT BUT I WILL IM SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP He didn’t know how Joel used to hold you firmly against the mattress, hands on your hips, lapping at your cunt to make you come again. Because he always wanted more, always wanted to give you more. He didn’t know that pushing his cock in you was the sweetest, most intense sensation he’d ever felt. Even now, years later, he never felt something like that again. Will didn't know any of that, had no idea how intense it had been. Because the only thing Joel told him was “you don’t bring her up. Ever.” -> she is so relatable omfg I would be doing the same You knew what he looked like, you watched all his movies. In need of his voice, his smile, his gestures, his laugh. In need of him. But seeing him for real- not through a screen but in the same room, not some character but Joel, the man you loved more than anyone else, the man you would still call “the love of your life” in your thoughts -, was breathtaking, almost surreal. -> SOBBING EXCUSE ME SIR? WTF YOU DOING SHAKING HER OFF LIKE THAT NO SIR NO SIR So you approached him, without overthinking it, but as soon as he saw you he gave you a subtle but firm shake of his head. The message was crystal clear - he didn’t want to talk to you, didn’t even want you around. It stopped your hesitant steps in their tracks, and the shy smile you had the courage to build instantly disappeared, and your gaze fell to the floor. Trying to control your breathing, to fight back the tears you felt welling up.
-> my good goddddd im dying over here i am not okay sos help me He shook his head to think about something else and to resist the urge to take the script out of the drawer. Instead, he took a sleeping pill and went to bed.
->idk Milla, i think you write the most beautiful things and you really wanna make my heart fall out of my ribcage. The writing was pure and vivid and as he was reading your point of view he felt like his ribcage was suddenly too small to contain his heartbeats.
-> ooooof THIS IS BUILDING UP OMG OMG OMG SMDFKSDA “Who do you have in mind for the female lead?” he asked finally. “Well… me,” you answered, without lowering your gaze that time.
-> stab me it might hurt less than this In tears in your car, your boxes in the back, eyes fixed on the rearview mirror where Joel’s silhouette was getting smaller and smaller. Until you could no longer discern his clenched fists, his stone face. Until he was only a small dot, until he wasn't in your life anymore.
THE ENTIRE INTIMATE SCENE HOLY SMOKES IM DIZZYYYY
-> I have no thoughts just thots my brain empty but this is delicious “I can feel you clench on my fingers, you’re gonna be a good girl and come again for me?” he asked, before swirling his tongue over your clit again. “Thought about it so often,”
AND THE END AHHH IM SOBBING
Close-up
8k7 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 | masterlist Summary: Joel receives a script that takes him back to the memories of your love story. He realizes that out of protective instinct after the break up, he has not been honest neither with his own feelings nor with you Warnings: 18+ mdni. ex lovers reunited, angst, mostly Joel pov, Joel can act cold out of defence mechanism, he has trouble accepting his own feelings, pining, slow burn, pet names (sweetheart, baby), semi public sex, just the tip, soft!joel, oral (f), piv, creampie. Pic for mood only, reader has no specific physical descriptions.
a/n: this is written for @jolapeno 's dear-uary challenge (prompt here) thank you for this challenge Jo, and it was such a cool prompt 😍😍😍 Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing and for reading this one soooo many times 🥹😘💕 @/saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏
I sent you a script, tell me what you think tell me more just read it, trust me
The informal messages between Joel and his agent, Will, were usual. They had known each other for a long time, they were friends, and Will had always found him perfect roles.
So as always, Joel trusted him- even though the first page of the script, delivered to him by a courier, was not completely filled, making him wonder why.
In the evening he put his cup on the coffee table, and lay down on the sofa, a soft light lamp behind his head. With his back leaning against the cushions, shirt, jeans, bare feet. Always the same ritual, always the same setup, when he was about to read a new script.
He started reading it, taking a sip of coffee from time to time, until his heart leapt in his chest as he got to a particular scene.
He closed it and took a moment before rereading the first page, with the name left blank.
It could only be you.
That was the only explanation for getting a script without the name of the author on it. And there was no way the scene he had just read, so familiar, so intimate, could be coincidental. Or could be written by anyone else. He grabbed his phone and sent a message to his agent, unable to contain his annoyance.
that’s fucked up, Will
*Will calling*
“Yeah,” he grumbled as he picked up, without even trying to hide his feelings, then he got up to pace the room.
“Look, I know what you’re thinking, Joel. But she’s a great writer and actress, you know it. We’ve been looking for a good drama movie for a long time. This one’s perfect.”
“It’s… damn, Will, it’s our story, ok? Or a part of it, I don't know. Anyway I can’t play this. Can’t play me.”
“Joel, listen to me and think about it. No one would know. And it can be therapeutic.”
“Thera… jesus, you gotta be fucking kidding me.”
Joel sighed as he hung up and threw his phone on the couch.
Why the fuck would Will do something so stupid and inconsiderate, giving him a script from you?
At the beginning of his career, his agent sent him one project for a movie in which you were expected to play too. Joel confessed that you two had been together, and added “you don’t bring her up. Ever,” to end the conversation. So Will never did.
Until today.
He sat back down on the sofa, resting his forehead on his fist, resisting the urge to throw the cup of coffee across the room. He was surprised by his own reaction, his nervousness. His anger. Barely able to control his emotions, he felt so weak, like his heart was about to tear in two again, swallowing him whole. He was affected, years later, as if it happened yesterday.
So, sure, a long time ago he asked Will not to talk about you anymore. But they might have been friends, his agent might have known about you, but he didn’t know the details. Didn’t know how profoundly the break up had hurt Joel, how much you had gotten under his skin, back then.
And in Will's defense, it wasn't like you never saw each other again, at parties or ceremonies, under Will’s gaze who thought that it wasn't that bad, after all. It was years after your separation, now having the job that both of you dreamed about, talked about, sweaty young adults in a messy bed where he had just made you come.
Will wasn't aware that it was actually that bad.
Because he didn’t know the way Joel looked at you, when you were together. He didn't know how sweet and caring Joel was with you. He didn’t know how much he loved wrapping his arms around you, and having you curl up against him.
He didn’t know how Joel used to hold you firmly against the mattress, hands on your hips, lapping at your cunt to make you come again. Because he always wanted more, always wanted to give you more.
He didn’t know that pushing his cock in you was the sweetest, most intense sensation he’d ever felt. Even now, years later, he never felt something like that again.
Will didn't know any of that, had no idea how intense it had been. Because the only thing Joel told him was “you don’t bring her up. Ever.”
The first time you saw each other again, was in a place full of actors, agents, writers and directors.
You couldn't believe he was here, a few steps away from you. Of course, you knew you'd cross paths one day, but suddenly he was closer to you than he had been in years and you felt your heart racing. He was even more handsome than he was back then, if it was even possible. You knew what he looked like, you watched all his movies. In need of his voice, his smile, his gestures, his laugh. In need of him.
But seeing him for real- not through a screen but in the same room, not some character but Joel, the man you loved more than anyone else, the man you would still call “the love of your life” in your thoughts -, was breathtaking, almost surreal.
So you approached him, without overthinking it, but as soon as he saw you he gave you a subtle but firm shake of his head. The message was crystal clear - he didn’t want to talk to you, didn’t even want you around.
It stopped your hesitant steps in their tracks, and the shy smile you had the courage to build instantly disappeared, and your gaze fell to the floor. Trying to control your breathing, to fight back the tears you felt welling up.
If you had looked up right away, you would have seen guilt sweep through his eyes. But when you finally raised your head, seconds later, he was on the other side of the room. The only thing you could see was his back, which he undoubtedly presented to you deliberately, as if his glare hadn’t been enough to make a point.
All evening, you struggled to keep conversations going, to concentrate, to think of anything other than his dark stare, furrowed brows, and the way he shook his head at you without any hesitation. For years, you had been wondering what he had thought of you, after those years. You just got the most brutal answer to that question.
The second time, a journalist had done some research and discovered that you attended the same university, graduated the same year. He took the opportunity to bring the subject as Joel was walking by. He probably hadn't seen you amongst all those people, because you were sure he would have gone the other way, otherwise. You didn’t have much choice than to kiss, feigning a friendly closeness that had never existed between you. You had been lovers, then strangers. No in-between.
His scent, so familiar, invaded your nostrils. He always wore the same perfume, the one you had given him for a birthday. It surprised you but you didn't have much time to think about it, as he ended the hug quickly.
Joel's eyes were shifty when you looked at him, a fake smile plastered on his lips. Which could probably seem real for people who didn't know him, but not for you. Not even years later. You answered the journalist's questions as best as you could, until Joel leaned towards to give you a hug that was as neutral as his eyes on you, cutting off the questions. Then he walked away, leaving you facing the journalist who was delighted with the exclusive material and oblivious to the unspoken scene that had happened in front of him.
Joel thought back to those two evenings, after he’d hung up on Will and before he’d put the script away in a drawer. He needed to regain control of his emotions, and to do that he couldn't continue reading your words, at least for now.
He went to the kitchen for a fresh cup of coffee, and despite him trying, his mind wandered to lazy mornings where he would get up to make two coffees and then come back to the bedroom. He’d put them on the nightstand, before cuddling up to your warm body under the sheets, hearing you moan gently. Sometimes you would fall asleep in one of his shirts, and he loved smelling his scent on you, as if you were marked by him, somehow. It always made him feral, possessive. He didn’t know he had that side in him, until you.
You'd always grab his hand to kiss the tip of his fingers, before sliding them along your folds, feeling his cock harden against your ass and your pussy starting to drool. He would make you come with his digits, his lips against your ear, caged in his arms, then he'd slide his cock between your thighs and your soaked folds, just in time for your last spasms to squeeze his tip. Sometimes he would keep fucking you like that, lying behind you, and sometimes he would roll you on your back, taking his place between your thighs. Until he’d come, grunting, growling, his hair disheveled, and you often fall back asleep, his cock softening inside you, the cups of coffee cold on the nightstand.
He shook his head to think about something else and to resist the urge to take the script out of the drawer. Instead, he took a sleeping pill and went to bed.
The next morning he woke up groggy. He put on a t-shirt and sweatpants, poured himself a cup of coffee, and put aside his good resolutions. He didn’t need the script to think about you, anyway. Time never healed his wounds, he never forgot you or the pain he had felt when you’d left. His thoughts were always hurtful, possessive and raw.
Even years after the break up he couldn’t help but think about you when his wrist fucked his shaft. Even sometimes when he was in a relationship. He hated himself for that but couldn’t help it. He missed your cunt, your hands, everything. But he couldn’t accept the idea that he was simply missing you.
He always thought that your bodies were made for each other, and you always breathed the same words. He knew you meant it, his cock buried in you, his eyes fixed on yours rolling to the back of your head and his ears filled with your moans, barely able to tell his name.
Until it was over.
He knew it could happen, you always told him that you'd have to leave for California one day in hope to live your dream, that you couldn’t do it in Texas. But he brushed it off, not wanting to believe it, not wanting to think about it. He hid it in a corner of his mind, until he had no other choice but to face reality. Until it hit him. That day, he realized that he wouldn’t get to wrap his arms around you for the rest of his life.
He lay down on the couch and started to read. And the more he read the script, the more he realized that you wrote only the moments that had really happened.
The story, background, was slightly different, probably so that no one could ever make a connection to the two of you. But the moments were real, and it made him dizzy.
You wrote that dance in your small apartment, first for the both of you, that you rented after graduation. You worked as a waitress and Joel was a barista, and you two went to as many castings in Austin as you could, dreaming every day about being actors.
That night you put on some music and danced. He kissed your hand and looked at you. He felt warm. He loved you so much that his heart was aching. He made you spin and you laughed, and it was like a spring breeze in the apartment, filling his lungs with fresh air. When you stopped twirling you brushed his hair and then kissed him.
The writing was pure and vivid and as he was reading your point of view he felt like his ribcage was suddenly too small to contain his heartbeats.
Over the next two days, he took the script out of the drawer regularly. Slowly touching the paper that already bore the marks of repeated handling, him lying on his couch, taking his time before opening it.
He read it all, and the sweetness, the sensitivity with which you described your moments moved him profoundly. The person he had loved, cherished, cradled in his arms, wrote that.
All the intimacy, the love and care you both felt for each other were there. For several years he made everything to forget the good moments, to focus only on the ending to feed his bitterness, but the fact was that there had been so many beautiful moments. And he could read them, feel them again. Couldn’t deny them anymore.
Your words were so familiar, so true to your love story, that his anger slowly gave some place to something else: nostalgia. Finally allowing himself to miss you and what you two had. He was still wondering why you had written the script and sent it to him, but now he was ready to learn the answer. And he wanted to look you in the eye when he’d ask you this question. But he wasn't sure how he’d behave, when you met. Didn't know if bitterness or nostalgia would fill his heart.
So after two days of silence, Joel picked up his phone and sent Will a message.
Ok, set up a meeting
Because of your busy schedules you could meet only in two weeks. The delay was driving him crazy.
He made a copy of the script, his copy, which he filled with annotations, dates. Underlining moments or words erased from his mind, out of grief, anger or self-protection.
He got hard several times, while reading some scenes. And sometimes anger would come back to creep into his thoughts, whispering to him that you never should have sent it to him, when your separation had been so painful for him.
And Will was not the only one Joel said “you don’t…. ever.”
To you, it’d been “If you leave… you don't call me. Ever.”
That morning, as he got used to doing several times a day, he grabbed his copy of the script. He had handled it so much that the sheets were already damaged, some pages peppered with annotations.
As he was reading, he remembered how you had loved to run your fingers over his jeans when you were watching a movie on your little couch. Playing with him, your hand going higher and higher, just to hear his breathing slow down, just to hear him murmur a needy and low “sweetheart, what are you doing?”, making you smile widely. Knowing that he would manhandle you two seconds later to be under him, pulling your panties to the side and pushing his thick length into you. He remembered the feeling of your breasts against his chest, how you whimpered in his neck while he was fucking you hard and deep.
He was nervous the morning of the meeting. He took a shower, hoping to get rid of the fatigue and headache from the lack of sleep the night before. He put on a shirt and jeans and grabbed his car keys, put on some music when he started to drive, trying to change his mind, but it didn’t work, he was still anxious. He parked near the building. Once inside he found the meeting room and knocked on the door. He heard you say “come in” and took a deep breath before twisting the handle.
You were alone, sitting in a chair, and he quickly pushed aside the thought of how pretty you were. Joel immediately noticed your hands, pressed together nervously, before you stood up to greet him. He stopped when you walked towards him and your smile faded like that time.
“Wait,” he said, his hand raised in front of him, as he was trying to control his emotions. “I just… Why did you send it to me?” he added without any preamble, his tone harsher than he intended.
“Oh… ok. Straight to the point, huh?” you said, sitting back down, and removing an imaginary crease on your sleeve, eyes lowered to the desk.
“I never…” you started to say, before stopping and taking a breath. “I think I needed to write our story down.”
Joel’s sigh stopped you. You tried to keep a low and calm tone, not to show your anxiety. You knew that facing him wouldn't be easy. He had given you a glimpse of his coldness after the situation with that journalist.
“Joel, please, listen to me.”
You looked at him, and yet you had no idea how his name, escaping your lips, tore his heart apart. He never thought he’d hear it again, and the familiar intonation made him shiver.
“I honestly think it would make a great movie,” you said. “And you must think so too, since you’re here.”
“I don’t know why I’m here, honestly. Except that I want to know why.”
“Would you have preferred to discover it once the movie was out, your role played by someone else?”
His gaze on you, dark and possessive, made you freeze.
“No, I really wouldn’t have appreciated our story, my life, played by someone else, Jesus,” he growled.
He put his hands on his hips, a stance you’d seen him do dozens of times before, searching for words, and then he sat in a chair, pinching the place just above his nose with two fingers. Trying to stop the headache that was threatening to come again. It had started off badly, and he knew it was his fault. He was too stubborn, too cold.
“Who do you have in mind for the female lead?” he asked finally.
“Well… me,” you answered, without lowering your gaze that time.
“You?”
A part of him, that he thought was gone the day you had left, woke up with a groan. He couldn't imagine the movie being made, you playing... well, you, and him being played by another man. It was unthinkable and made his jealousy and possessiveness stir painfully in his chest.
Unlike you, he hadn't watched your movies. He tried though, when he saw your face on a movie poster for the first time. He went to the cinema, but he walked out of the theater the moment that actor leaned toward you to kiss you. He couldn't stand to see someone kiss you, when he couldn't do it anymore.
“I’m the best person to play this character, aren’t I?” you said softly, interrupting his thoughts. “Just like you’re the best one to play the male lead. Look, I know you’ve been rumored for a role like this for years. I know you’re not opposed to it. So why not?”
“Because it’s not about playing a role here,” he sighed. “It’s playing in front of a camera, things we said, did, years ago. Intimate things that belong to us.”
“I changed some things, no one has to know it’s autobiographical,” you started to say, before he quickly cut you off.
“I know it is. And so do you.” He walked over to the window to stare at the buildings in front of him. “When you leave someone, you don’t do that. It’s unhealthy,” he said, almost softly. Resigned. He turned to you before adding, “Why stir up something that died years ago?”
He didn't expect to face the sadness that clouded your face, and once again guilt seized him. You were sad, upset, and despite the bitterness he’d been feeling for years, he didn’t want to hurt you.
“Joel… I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you anymore,” you answered, standing up and walking towards him. You stopped a few steps away to respect his boundaries, before you'd see his body stiff. “I left because I had to follow my dream, and it wasn’t working in Texas. And you wanted to stay in Austin, to take care of Tommy. We ended it because a long-distance relationship would have been too painful, because I didn’t want us to be unhappy, barely seeing each other, not being able to feel each other often enough. So I left. And I told you all that. You knew it, you knew why.”
You took a breath, after formulating what was oppressing your heart, waiting for him to answer.
“Playing with feelings is dangerous,” he said in a low voice.
“This isn’t a game, Joel. I'm not playing. I’m sure it would make a great movie. And maybe we need to express all that, even years later.”
“Do you remember what I told you that day? The last day?”
“Of course, I do. You told me not to call you. You told me that if we had to meet again… then it would happen. Well, it's happening, Joel.”
He looked at you, confused, and headed towards the door, brushing past you lightly as he passed.
Just before leaving, without looking at you, he said in a low voice, “my agent will give you my answer in a few days.”
Once the door closed behind Joel, you remembered the day you left.
In tears in your car, your boxes in the back, eyes fixed on the rearview mirror where Joel’s silhouette was getting smaller and smaller. Until you could no longer discern his clenched fists, his stone face. Until he was only a small dot, until he wasn't in your life anymore.
At that moment you were wondering if you had made a mistake. You kept wondering for years. To be honest, you still weren’t sure you made the right choice that day. You followed your dream and succeeded, but it cost you the love of your life.
You didn't know what to think about the meeting. It could have been worse, he could have left after two minutes of being there, you knew it. You could have said more, too, but you didn't want Joel to withdraw more into himself. And for sure, you couldn't have told him that you always thought of him when you were in someone’s else’s arms. That you tried not to let jealousy invade you when you thought of his personal life, knowing that you had no right to be. You gave up on that when you had left.
You knew what he thought, how he reacted. Now he needed time to process everything, and you just had to wait for his agent to contact you. You couldn't do more.
Joel got to his car in a blur. He realized where he was only sitting behind the wheel, too many emotions swirling in his head. Years without seeing you and it had gone by at the speed of light. He blamed himself for being cold, blamed himself for not being cold enough, and he was even more lost than before he saw you. He started to drive, the feeling of having mishandled things weighing more and more on his shoulders.
He took another shower when he got home, as if it could wash off his remorse and regrets, the words exchanged playing over and over in his mind.
“Joel… I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you anymore.”
“I had to follow my dream. You wanted to stay in Austin. To take care of Tommy.”
“You knew it, you knew why.”
Did he really start to believe that the events had happened differently, after you left? Had he really done it, to the point of omitting certain things, because he needed someone to blame, to keep moving forward?
Had he really been that guy? Blaming you when there was no one to blame, just life and the choices that go with it, that we all have to do?
Had he really denied for years that you had left with a broken heart, too? That he had told you to never call him, after those wonderful years together? He felt like he was waking up with a monstrous hangover, and guilt gripped him. Truth is he let you down, and reality was hitting him hard.
Because you were right, you didn’t leave just like that. He didn’t want to acknowledge it for years, kept sweeping it under the rug, but deep down he didn’t forget it.
And you were right, he hadn’t been able to prioritize your relationship. Couldn’t prioritize himself either. He had always been protective of his brother, but it reached another level when he came back to Texas after being dismissed. Tommy wasn't the same, and Joel knew that he would have constantly wondered if his brother was okay if he had left for California with you. Worried that he could be in jail after a fight, with no one to bail him out. Or that he could be drunk in an alley, alone, spending the night there. Or worse.
“I can’t leave Tommy here alone, with all his drinking and partying,” he told you, expression determined.
“But you need to think about your future, our future too, Joel,” you replied desperately.
Joel had probably hoped that you wouldn’t have left, that you’d have chosen him, until the end. And you probably hoped the same thing, too.
Right person, wrong time. Fucking sad, but so banal.
So to forget that he was as responsible for the breakup as much as you were, he let his pain turn into anger, and he never let nostalgia set in, or his feelings show up.
And everything blew up when you sent him that script and he started reading it. It was impossible to continue to deny the obvious, to keep thinking that his feelings were stronger than yours and that’s why you had left. It was impossible to forget that he had told you, “If you leave… you don't call me. Ever.” That he was the one who had cut everything off, once and for all. To protect himself, of course. But still.
So once you were gone, he did what he had to do, he took care of Tommy. Except that he started going to bars with him, at night. Drinking less than him, but still way too much. He took sleeping pills when he was obsessed with your absence, tired of squeezing your pillow way too tight in his fist, his jaw clenched with anger. He moved to a new neighborhood because he couldn't stand living in that apartment anymore where everything reminded him of you.
When they were children and then teenagers, Joel and Tommy’s father taught them to work with their hands, and it helped them to find jobs on construction sites. And that he finally pulled himself together and helped Tommy the way he had to. It took him months, but he did it, and his parents would be proud of him, of them, if they saw their sons.
He worked hard, kept doing castings when his work allowed it, and eventually it paid off, even if it took time.
He thought about it all, and realized he needed to see you again before deciding on the movie. Needed to behave normally, to let go of his mask. So he asked his agent your number, then texted you:
it’s Joel. Are you still in LA? I have some questions about the script can we meet again? I am. When do you wanna meet? tomorrow night, my place? I’ll cook Sure!
He took a deep breath as he sent you his address. He let his emotions take over on purpose, to dispel the bitter taste in his mouth since you saw each other. Now he had to trust them.
The next day he started to cook during the afternoon, the dish that he hoped was still one of your favorite. He knowingly chose to invite you over to his place, to keep his mind occupied at least while he was busy in the kitchen.
Once the dish was in the oven, he did a running session on his treadmill and showered.
Anything to keep his mind busy.
You arrived right on time, a bottle of wine in hand.
“You still like the white?” you asked.
He did. Some things never changed.
As you approached the kitchen it smelled so good that you stopped there.
“Still one of your favorite meals?” he asked.
It was.
You tried not to show that you were moved. Acts of service had always been his way of showing that he cared, and you weren’t expecting that when you showed up.
You sat down on a high stool in the kitchen and he opened the bottle of wine. You had a few sips, silently. Neither of you really knew what to say, at first. Then everything set into place, naturally, instinctively. A little shyly at first, bringing up things from your respective pasts, or present. You asked him how Tommy was doing, and he told you he was fine, that he was engaged to a woman named Maria and that they were going to be parents soon. You were happy for Tommy, sincerely. You had always liked him.
Joel was trying to act normally, to not pay too much attention to the ease with which you were chatting. How easily he opened up to you, telling you about his years in Austin, then his first ones in LA. His first roles, his doubts.
He was glancing at your hands when you weren’t looking at him. At your hair.
He loved to see your eyes shine when you were talking about something that was important to you.
But above all, he loved to see them sparkle the first time he made you smile, that evening. It hit him, how much he missed it. Making you smile.
His emotions were so familiar that his heart was beating a little too fast, like a horse freed from its reins.
And suddenly he wondered how he had been able to spend so many years without you by his side, when you had always been his sunshine, liberating his grumpy, reserved nature.
A part of his brain told him that he was smiling a little too much, but he felt more alive during those moments with you than he hadn’t been in so long.
Whether in a relationship or not.
And then he felt the atmosphere change, felt that you got nervous, an impression confirmed when you began to scratch your thumb. A habit that dated back years ago, and he'd always take you in his arms, kiss your thumb and tell you that he was there and that everything would be okay. Today, for the first time he couldn’t do all that.
“Are you ok?” he nevertheless allowed himself to ask.
“Yeah, it’s just… listen, I know you wanted to ask me about the script, but ehm... there’s something you need to know.” You took a deep breath before adding “there won’t be any movie if you don’t want to do it. If you’re not comfortable with it. I’m not saying this to put pressure on you, it's just… I just want you to know that your choice is completely free. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do it, for whatever bad reason.”
“I appreciate that you’re telling me this, thank you,” he said, in a tone you couldn’t quite define, half defeated, half tender. “Listen, I wanted to apologize.”
“For what, Joel?” you asked questioningly.
“Yesterday. I didn’t really know how to handle all of it. Honestly, I’ve been overwhelmed by a lot of emotions since I read the script. Including anger.” He didn't expect to tell you that, but the need was too much to bear. He needed to make things right.
“I know. I expected it to be complicated, after our two previous meetings,” you said, without animosity or bitterness. Just being factual.
He raised his eyebrows, as if to apologize, before continuing. “I wanted to apologize for that too. My attitude.”
“That’s your way of handling things, it always has been, I should have known. But I appreciate it too, thanks Joel.”
He nodded, then added “do you think we’ll be able to do it?”
“To do what?”
“Work together. To be coworkers on a movie?”
He saw your eyebrows furrow slightly, as you took the time to think before answering.
“Well… the evening’s going pretty well, right? You haven't shook your head at me yet, to show me the door.”
“Ouch!” he replied exaggeratedly.
“Too soon?” you asked, lips curled into a smile.
“A little,” he laughed.
He enjoyed it, that little moment. You’d had so many of them before.
“Aren’t you afraid of what might happen?” he wanted to ask.
“Aren’t you afraid of reliving things, that I’ll fall madly in love with you again and that the scenes we’ll shoot, my acting, will just express the reality of my feelings?”
But he couldn’t ask you that.
He wanted to ask you if you had sent him the script because you still had feelings for him, but he couldn’t say that either.
“It’ll be a low budget movie. I mean, if we do it,” you said. There’ll be some outdoor scenes but not that many. Not many other actors either. It won’t be a long shoot.”
He nodded and said, “can I give you my answer in a couple of days?”
“Of course,” you smiled. “Thanks for the meal, it was delicious,” you said as you stood up. “You can text me if you have any questions.”
He thanked you and you complimented him on his house as you put your coat back on. His taste hadn’t changed. The rooms were simply decorated. As you walked toward the front door you glanced inside one of the rooms, and saw a table with a wooden sculpture on it.
“Oh my god, Joel? You still do the carving?”
“Oh… well… yeah. I never stopped.”
“Can I?” you asked.
“Sure,” he opened the door and you slipped through the gap, brushing past him lightly as you passed and you had goosebumps at the familiar scent. Still the perfume you had gifted him once. Reassuring. After all these years, instantly, it was there. Enveloping you.
You approached the table and leaned over a piece he was working on, admiring the figurine that was being carved. A rodeo cowboy on a bucking horse.
“Wow, Joel… you were already very good at this back then, but now it’s incredible. The level of detail is mind-blowing.”
You looked at the shelves, covered with other sculptures. You approached them: bears, deer, wolves, rabbits.
“This is really amazing, you’re so talented. And… Do you still play guitar?”
“Sure,” he answered, nodding at a guitar case. “I usually play in the dining room. My guitars are over there. This one needed a little TLC. I just got it back. It’s… well it’s the one you gave me.”
You looked at him, unable to hide the surprise on your face.
“You kept it?” you asked, trying to hold back your emotions.
“ ‘ course I did.”
You nodded, your throat tight.
“I should go, it’s getting late,” you said. “Tell me about the movie, ok?” You looked at him hesitantly, but when he leaned towards you and wrapped his arms around your torso, your eyes closed at the feeling, so familiar, before you pulled away, told him good night and left.
Driving your car, you replayed the images of the evening in your mind. Of course, you had felt his gaze on you several times during the evening. And sometimes you could see Joel again. Your Joel.
Did he think about you as much as you thought about him? Did he suspect that you had sent him this script in the hope of getting back in touch with him? Did he know how much you missed him, all those years?
You had wondered so many times if he had been thinking about you. You thought about the hug, as comforting as before. You missed him so much.
Two days later, he texted you
“I’m in”
He kept looking at his phone after sending the message. The read indicator appeared quickly, then the writing bubble.
“Great, I'm so glad! I’m sure it’s gonna be amazing!!”
He hoped it would be. Hoped it wasn’t a mistake.
He had to leave LA for several weeks for a shooting, and the organization of the film was put in place.
You sent each other a few messages in the next few days. Then the messages became more and more regular, while remaining purely friendly.
Several months later, the day before the shooting started, he knocked on your trailer to say hello.
You had rehearsed some scenes with the crew, and everything was ready.
The less emotional scenes were shot in the first few days. He didn’t ask for it, but he was glad. Every night he came back to his trailer, played the guitar, and thought about you.
Seeing you every day was a very strange thing that he had trouble to define. He was happy to see you every day, to see the person you had become. And sad that you were no longer his. Filming these moments with you was like constantly reopening a wound that had never really healed.
That night, he took out the script, and reread the scene planned the next day.
EXT. THEIR APARTMENT -- EVENING He parks downstairs at their apartment, it’s dark. He knows she’s back from a week at her parents’. He’s eager to get home and see her again, he’s missed her. He quickly climbs the outside stairs and unlocks the door. INT. THEIR APARTMENT -- EVENING He puts his keys on the hall cabinet, takes off his jacket and hangs it on the coat rack. We follow him as he walks in the apartment, until he sees her in the doorway of the dining room. He smiles, we see love in their eyes as look at other. HER Hey baby He goes to her, they kiss, he takes her in his arms. She closes her eyes. HIM I missed you, baby. He brushes her cheek with his thumb. HER I missed you too. She takes his hand and leads him to their bedroom.
He stopped reading there, before the next scene, that was the most intimate, the one that made him anxious just to think about.
“I missed you, baby,” he said the line. He brushed your cheek with his thumb, like he had done so many times before. His eyes were fixed in yours. He wondered if he was imagining what he was reading in them.
“I missed you too.”
You took his hand and you headed out of the frame.
“Cut, it was perfect, guys! Go get ready for the next scene.”
He picked up his water bottle and took a sip. He felt dizzy.
You were both wearing underwear and bathrobes. Waiting to shoot the scene.
“Ok guys, you’re ready? Great, let’s go.”
The scene was a close-up of both of your faces during a sex scene, at night. You lay down on the bed first, after taking off your robe. He took off his too and lay down between your thighs.
“Is this ok?” he asked.
“Yeah, it’s ok,” you smiled.
“Action!”
You started to kiss, tongues quickly brushing against each other. His hands cupped your cheeks as he rolled his hips towards you slowly, careful that your crotches wouldn’t touch.
It was overwhelming to feel you against him, your breasts against his chest, with only your bra between the two of you. It was a whirling moment, to kiss you in such an intimate scene, playing something that you had lived for real before. He groaned and slid his hand to the back of your neck to hold you as close as possible against him.
He felt you shift slightly, turning your hips to face his. He wanted to ask you what you were doing but he couldn’t. He was half hard from the moment he laid against you but now his cock was hard as steel. You pushed your pelvis forward and the tip of his cock nestled at your entrance, pointing against his boxers.
He could feel your wet panties through the fabrics.
“Don’t stop, baby,” you recited your line, and he growled.
He couldn’t believe you would act like that while shooting a scene, couldn't believe you were using him.
He pulled away to look at you and you murmured an unscripted “please.” Eyebrows furrowed, he nodded slightly. His fat head found its way, and his tip pushed your panties in.
It was hot, filthy, forbidden. So unprofessional, but he couldn’t stop. He recognized your moans, and the small team around you probably thought it was perfectly faked, when it was music in his ears. The music he thought he would never hear again.
Your hands tightened on his biceps as you came. So quickly. He felt your walls squeezing his tip and he almost forgot to move, forgot the script, forgot you were shooting a scene. He pulled out, afraid he would come too, and faked his orgasm, neck tense and veins bulging, your hands caressing his hair at the back of his neck.
You said the next line “I love you, baby. I missed you so much.”
“I love you too,” was his.
“Cut!! That was amazing, great job!!”
There was a pounding on your trailer door as you got out of the shower. You quickly threw on a bathrobe and went to open it.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” he growled.
“Keep your voice low Joel, damn… Come in.”
You closed the door behind him, searching for the right words, pressing your hands together.
“I, huh…” you stammered.
“No! No, talk to me. Tell me. You can’t… you can’t do that and stay silent.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” he chuckled.
“Having you so close to me, against me… I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry. It was overwhelming.”
“Everyone could have seen, what were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t thinking, that’s the point, Joel! And they didn’t see, anyway.”
“Jesus christ you can't do that. You can’t just use me like that.”
“I know, Joel. I know, I’m sorry. It’s just…”
“What?”
You sighed, and that time he didn't try to rush you. You felt him soften, giving you time to find your words.
“I miss you, Joel.”
“No, don't… Please, don’t say that.”
“I missed you the second I left and it never stopped.”
Hearing the tone of your voice and reading your eyes, this time he had no doubt that you really meant it. And he felt all the tensions in his body relax, as if he were freed from everything that had been oppressing him for years. You approached him slowly, eyes raised to his, and you slid your hand into his, and his large palm gently closed over it. You caressed his cheek with the other, and for a moment he shut his eyes, pressing his face against your hand.
“I miss you,” you said again and he rested his forehead against yours. He gently rubbed his nose against yours, before kissing your lips softly. He heard your breathing hitch for a moment, then you moaned slightly as you pulled away, just to look at him, Joel, not the actor, for the first time in years. He pulled you closer to him and brushed his tongue over your lips, as if asking for permission to push inside. Greedily, you slid yours to his, licking his tongue and lips, until he crashed his mouth against yours. His hands rested on your waist while yours moved up his back, pressing your bodies together. You whined when you felt his hard cock pressed to you.
You pulled away from him again, just to look at his face, and he wanted to pinch himself, just to be sure you were not some dream that would leave him disillusioned and alone when he woke up.
You took his hand and led him to your room.
“Undress me,” you said.
He pulled on the knot of your bathrobe slowly, making the two sides of the garment part, revealing the curve of your breasts that he caressed with his fingertips.
Your chest rose quickly as your eyes were plunged into each other, until he lowered them to your pussy. His heart was beating so fast that for a moment he was afraid it would explode.
He raised his gaze to yours, silently asking if you were okay.
“Yes,” you said. As if you knew he would want to hear it, that a nod wouldn't be enough.
He slipped his hands under the fabric of the robe and slid it down your shoulders. It fell to the floor, leaving you naked. So vulnerable, and yet you were the strongest woman he ever knew, following your dream by leaving for a city where you didn't know anyone. And made your dream come true.
But now you were here, in front of him. So pretty, so sure of yourself, of your desires.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said in a low voice.
He pulled you back, guiding you with his hands on your hips as he kissed you, until the back of your knees touched the bed.
“Lie down, sweetheart,” he said. The nickname was so familiar in his mouth, so normal. You did as he asked, moving back until your head rested on the pillow as he watched you, still standing at the end of the bed. Then he took off his t-shirt, unbuttoned his jeans and got rid of them and his boxers.
“Are you ok?” he asked.
“Yes,” you replied. “Haven't felt better in a long time, actually.”
“Me too,” he added, laying on the bed, his hand caressing your inner thighs that he kissed, then he spread them with his hands.
He ran his thumb over your folds, covering it in your wetness until he reached your clit and gently rolled it under his finger. You moaned, spreading your thighs wider.
He leaned down, his shoulders taking possession of the space between your thighs, the scent of your arousal filling his nostrils. He licked a long stripe from your drooling hole to your clit, then placed his hands on the inside of your thighs, pressing your knees against the sheets, and you willingly let him do it, your hands sliding into his hair. He pushed his tongue into your cunt, growling against your folds. He never thought he would taste you again and an overwhelming feeling was running through his whole body. You were leaking into his mouth, down his throat and he pressed you against him, greedy for what you were giving him as your hips rolled towards him. His nose brushed perfectly against your clit, like it always did before. You clung to his hair as your moans were getting louder and louder.
"I'm so close, Joel," you murmured, hands lost in his curls. "Please, baby, please."
“Take what you need, use me, sweetheart.”
“Oh my god, Joel… I’m gonna… I’m coming, fuck!”
He didn't let go of you, leaving his tongue buried in your pussy and his nose against your clit, gripping your waist with his hands, as if they were in their natural place, your flesh welcoming them.
“Joel…” you whimpered.
“Another one, please, baby. Let me give you another one, ok?”
“I’m not sure if I can… I don’t know if I can,” you panted.
“Lemme try, ok?”
“Ok,” you whispered.
His tongue left your pussy, licking your puffy folds before teasing your swollen clit. His middle finger slid along your folds before he pushed it in you gently, immediately adding a second digit. His fingers pumped into you, making your wetness flow down to the sheets. He kept you pressed against the mattress, as he had done so many times, drunk on your taste and smell. His cock ached but he resisted the urge to grind himself against the bed, afraid of not being able to hold back and come on them.
“I can feel you clench on my fingers, you’re gonna be a good girl and come again for me?” he asked, before swirling his tongue over your clit again. “Thought about it so often,” he added, still pumping your drooling cunt with his thick fingers, then licking and sucking your clit.
“Yes, fuck yes,” you whined, just before you came on his diggits, clit pulsing against his tongue.
He crawled over to you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and smashed his lips against yours, your wimpers now disappearing between them.
“I wanna suck your cock, Joel,” you breathed against his lips, but he shook his head.
“Sweetheart… I'd love it too but I’m gonna come the second you’ll take me in your mouth,” he said. “And I really need to feel you around my cock. All the way this time, not just the tip. You’re ok with that, baby?”
“Of course, need to feel you too.”
“Damn you’re so pretty,” he said, and kissed you.
He grabbed his cock in his hand, the tip leaking, swollen and red, and nestled it at your entrance, pausing there for a moment before thrusting in.
“Oh fuck…” you whined, making him stop.
“No, no no, don’t stop, I’m ok. Need all of you, please,” you whimpered.
Like years ago, he would give you everything you needed from him. So he didn't stop until he bottomed out.
“Shit,” he groaned, feeling his balls tightening, ready to explode. He was struggling so hard not to come, but his breath was hitching with every thrust since he felt your pussy around him.
You kissed, hips rolling towards each other softly and slowly. He loved to feel you around him again, and again he thought that your bodies were made for each other. He was sure of it more than ever. He slid his arms under your shoulders and you licked his neck, right at his pulsating point, then kissed the thin and delicate skin crossed by its veins.
“I won’t last, baby, I’m sorry…” he panted.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, taking him deeper.
“It doesn’t matter, fill me, Joel, please, just like before,” you begged, making him grawl, and he placed his thumb against your clit. It was enough to give you soon another climax and you pulsed around his shaft, digging your fingers into his skin as you came once again. He thrusted in a few times before burying himself, balls deep in your cunt, and shot his cum into your core, filling it to the last drop, his forehead against yours.
“Fuck, sweetheart….”
“I know,” you breathed. “Just like before.”
For a few minutes both of you were panting loudly, waiting to catch your breath.
Then you caressed his cheek and he kissed you until he pulled away and lay down facing you.
“Come here, baby,” he said, welcoming you against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, the way he always liked it so much. You stayed like that for a few minutes without talking. He just wanted to feel you against him, to hear you breathe slowly, to feel your skin against his.
“I should have left with you,” he said suddenly.
You straightened up to look at him then said softly, “hey, no, don’t… Don’t hurt yourself by thinking that. You did what you had to do, and so did I. And we met again, like you said back then,” you added, and kissed him, then curled up in his arms again.
“We did,” he agreed, brushing your hair delicately. “So, that script?” he asked. “Was it to… like… get me back?”
“Of course it was,” you smiled against his torso, and he kissed the top of your head.
“I’m happy you sent it to me, sweetheart.”
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authors note: broken up with so i made THIS its 3am please
is it okay to want your ex to be the person beside you when you wake up from a dream about them, even when you know you’re supposed to be moving on?
because if it’s not, then you’re already doing this all wrong.
you wake up too suddenly, almost like your own body betrayed you, forcing you out of something you weren’t ready to leave behind. your eyes snap open, heart hammering, the kind of startled wake-up that leaves you disoriented for a moment, stuck between dream and reality.
you lift your head, blinking against the dark, and look down at the sheets pooled around your waist, then slowly, like maybe you already know what you’ll find, you glance toward the other side of the bed.
empty.
your stomach sinks, but you tell yourself that’s stupid. of course it’s empty. why wouldn’t it be?
but it doesn’t matter what your head knows. it’s what your heart feels that always screws you up, because for one blissful, delirious second, you expected him to be there. warmth beside you, an arm draped across your waist, his steady breathing pulling you back under.
but that was the dream.
and god, what a cruel dream.
you don’t even know if you were just friends or something more in it, if you’d crossed back over that invisible line or if you were still dancing around it, but what you do know is how it felt. how you felt. that dizzy kind of giddiness, the way your stomach flipped with every glance, every touch, every little moment of something unspoken but understood. it felt like starting over, like all the space between you had been erased, like maybe you could still have him.
and then you woke up.
you swallow hard and let your head fall back against the pillow, eyes squeezing shut. you shouldn’t be dreaming about him. you shouldn’t be feeling like this.
you’re supposed to be getting over him.
but now it’s four in the morning, and you’re wide awake with a lingering ache in your chest, a knot in your stomach, and a dream you can’t shake no matter how much you tell yourself it doesn’t mean anything.
you try to sleep again. you roll over, adjust the blankets, close your eyes, and breathe deep like you read somewhere that might help, but it doesn’t. so you grab your phone from the nightstand and scroll through tiktok, letting the mindless flood of videos wash over you, but none of them make you laugh, none of them distract you the way you want them to. the flashes of what you remember come every now and then.
you think about making food, something small, because eating always makes you sleepy. but that feels like too much effort, and the last thing you want is to be alone with your thoughts in the kitchen, staring at the clock and counting the hours until you have to pretend like you’re fine.
so you give up and swipe through your notifications instead, clearing some out, replying to a text from your mom, letting the dull routine of it settle you.
but then you see his name, just sitting there in your recents like it belongs, like it hasn’t been haunting you since the breakup.
your thumb hesitates over the screen, and that’s all it takes. the thought is already there, already burrowing into your brain like an instinct you can’t fight.
you shouldn’t. you know you shouldn’t.
are you on non-speaking terms for now?
is it safe to send just one text?
but the dream is still fresh, still clinging to you like secondhand smoke, and every fiber of your being is screaming at you to just reach out. just once. just this one time.
before you can talk yourself out of it, before you can convince yourself to be strong, you tap his name and press the call button.
you sit up slowly, pressing your phone to your ear, and listen to the dial tone.
one ring.
two.
three.
your stomach twists. this was a mistake. he’s sleeping. maybe he has his ringer on and you’re waking him up. shame on you. you should hang up. you should—
then a noise. a shift.
your breath catches, your heart lurches.
you pull the phone away, staring at the screen, frozen in panic. maybe it was nothing. maybe he just moved in his sleep. maybe he won’t even remember this in the morning—
“hello?”
his voice is groggy, rough around the edges like he hasn’t fully woken up yet. like he doesn’t know who’s calling him at this hour.
and holy shit, you almost hang up right then. almost.
but something in you makes you lift the phone back to your ear, makes you swallow the lump in your throat, makes you whisper, “hello?”
there’s a pause, like maybe he’s still caught somewhere between sleep and reality. you hear the shift of fabric, the rustling of blankets as he moves, like he’s rolling onto his back, maybe rubbing at his face, trying to shake off the haze of sleep.
and then, recognition. “y/n— hey? why are you up?”
your lips part, but for a moment, nothing comes out.
because what are you supposed to say? that you woke up from a dream about him, and it felt so real that for half a second, you thought he’d actually been there? that it left you feeling warm and whole and painfully desperate to hold onto something that isn’t even yours anymore? that the idea of moving on feels impossible when your subconscious won’t even let you pretend you’re over it?
you swallow, forcing yourself to say something, anything, before the silence stretches too long.
“i couldn’t sleep,” you whisper, and before the guilt can settle too deep in your chest, you add, “sorry if i woke you.”
on the other end, you hear him shift again. there’s a faint rustling, the kind that makes you picture him shaking his head, before he murmurs, “you didn’t.”
you let out a small breath, a quiet scoff, something close to a laugh but not quite. “yeah?” your voice is just a little teasing, just a little skeptical. “you sound like it.”
for a second, there’s nothing. then he chuckles.
soft and low, the kind of laugh that makes your stomach twist, that makes you feel like you’ve caught him in a lie. and you have, obviously. you know his voice too well, you can hear the exhaustion in it, the roughness in his throat. you know he was asleep. but he’s trying to make you feel better about it, trying to brush it off like it doesn’t matter.
it’s nothing. it’s barely anything.
but it’s enough to make you slip.
you press your lips together, fingers tightening around your phone. because for a second, just a second, it feels normal again. like you can still call him in the middle of the night just because, like you can hear his sleepy laugh and joke about it, like you haven’t lost this part of him.
but then reality catches up.
your stomach sinks, the warmth in your chest cooling into something heavier, something bitter. your smile fades, and you shift, pressing your forehead against your knee, closing your eyes.
you shouldn’t be doing this. you shouldn’t be letting yourself fall back into something you know isn’t yours anymore.
but you force yourself to get to the point.
“would it be stupid if i asked you to come over?” you murmur, barely louder than a breath, barely brave enough to ask, but desperate enough to say it anyway.
the second the words leave your mouth, you regret them. the silence is immediate. so much silence that it makes your stomach twist, makes your pulse spike, makes you feel like you should just end the call right now and save yourself from whatever is about to happen next.
you pull your phone away for a second, checking to see if the call is even still connected.
“y/n.”
it’s soft, but the weight behind it is heavy. there’s something careful in the way he says your name, something almost hesitant, like he’s reminding you of something neither of you want to say out loud.
you know what he’s about to tell you. that there’s a reason you aren’t in each other’s beds anymore. there’s a reason you aren’t supposed to be doing this. and suddenly, panic sets in.
“nevermind,” you rush out, shaking your head at yourself like he can see you. “that was— i shouldn’t have asked. i just— i’m tired. i’m sorry i woke you, i’ll let you go. goodnight—"
“stop.” his voice is firm, cutting through your words before you can finish. you freeze, fingers curling into the fabric of your blanket, breath hitching, and you wait. you don’t say anything.
then, more shuffling on his end. you strain to listen, and then it hits you. he’s moving. getting out of bed.
“yeah,” he exhales, voice still thick with exhaustion, but steady now. certain. “i’ll be there.”
there’s a pause, the quiet hum of the phone line stretching between you both. you can still hear him moving; maybe grabbing his keys, maybe slipping on a hoodie. the thought alone makes your stomach flip. then, his voice, softer this time. careful. “do you need anything else?”
the question is simple, but there’s something about the way he asks it that makes you hesitate. like he’s offering you something more than just his presence. like if you asked for it, he’d give you anything. but you’re already pushing it. you know that.
so you shake your head, pressing your lips together before making a small sound of refusal, “mm-mm.”
on the other end, drew exhales, barely audible, and when he speaks again, it’s quiet. steady. “alright,” and then the call ends.
you lower your phone from your ear, staring at the screen as the seconds of silence stretch on, until the brightness fades and leaves you staring at your own faint reflection.
your teeth sink into your bottom lip, eyes flickering toward your dresser, but you’re not really seeing it. your mind is running too fast, thoughts spiraling, pulling you in two different directions.
there’s an uneasy feeling settling in your chest, pressing against your ribs. like maybe you shouldn’t have done this. like maybe this is exactly why you and drew shouldn’t be calling each other in the middle of the night anymore. but then, there’s something else. something warmer.
because he agreed. without hesitation too. without a single question. he’s coming over. does that mean something? the thought almost makes you smile. hope.
drew doesn’t live far, thankfully. all that space in los angeles, and yet, somehow, you both ended up just a mile or two apart. it had been convenient back then, when late-night filming ran over, when you were both too tired to do anything but collapse into each other’s arms, when going home meant a five-minute drive instead of a long trek across the city.
it made sense, being close. you’d even talked about closing the distance completely before, like moving out of your separate places and into one together. it wasn’t a serious discussion, more like a fleeting idea thrown out between shared meals and lazy mornings, but it had lingered. but you never put any real time into it. and maybe that was for the best. or maybe it wasn’t.
because if drew can come over now, without question, without hesitation, just because you asked, then what would it have been like if you had actually lived together?
you can’t stop your mind from running with the thought, from spiraling into a thousand different possibilities.
if you had shared a home, would he have stayed in your bed on nights like these, when you couldn’t sleep, when the weight of missing him pressed heavy on your chest? or would he have made himself comfortable in some extra room, always just across the hall, close enough to feel present but far enough to keep a safe distance?
if you had already built a life under the same roof, would he have been the one to move out? or would he have stayed, finding excuses to linger, to keep things from changing too much, to hold on to something that neither of you were sure how to let go of?
or would he have stayed in the same bed, too disciplined to let emotions dictate his choices, too mature to act like sharing a bed meant something more than what it was—just sleep, just comfort, just the two of you existing in the same space like you always had?
because that’s who drew is. realistic, rational, someone who believes in keeping things separate, even if it hurts.
he wouldn’t have been reckless about it. he wouldn’t have let longing turn into excuses or blurred lines. he would have figured out what to do, how to move forward, how to live in the same space while still trying to get over you. he wouldn’t have let himself slip.
but you? you don’t think you’d be able to pretend so easily. because lying next to him, feeling his presence just inches away, knowing it was him but that you weren’t his anymore. it would break you, piece by piece, every single night.
but he’s there soon, riding up the elevator like it’s nothing, like this isn’t something that should feel bigger than it is. like this isn’t something that should be happening at all. ten minutes. that’s all it takes.
when the knock comes, you practically stumble out of bed, feeling unsteady in your own body. you don’t know how to carry yourself, don’t know if you should be composed or apologetic, don’t know if you should even be doing this. but you move anyway, making your way to the door on autopilot, fingers unsteady as they reach for the handle.
when you open it, there he is. hood on, sweats hanging low on his hips, a stupid pair of sandals on his feet like he didn’t think twice about what he was wearing before leaving. like he didn’t care. but his eyes . . . his tired, knowing, impossibly soft eyes, tell you otherwise.
and you feel it then. the guilt. all over again.
it’s humiliating, the way you can’t get over him. the way your chest tightens just from seeing him stand in your doorway. the way he can read it all over your face like it’s written there in bold letters. he exhales, something quiet, something almost affectionate, and then murmurs, “c’mon, angel.”
his voice is low, thick with sleep, and it only makes you feel worse, but you let him in anyway. you step aside, and he moves past you, closing the door behind him, locking it with the ease of muscle memory. it’s dark. the lights are off, nothing illuminating the space except for the soft, golden glow bleeding through the thin curtain covering your balcony door. it’s just enough to see him, to see the way he’s watching you, the way his brows pull together when he sees the wetness brimming in your eyes.
you cover your face with your hands, disappointment settling deep in your stomach. you shouldn’t have called him. you shouldn’t have let him come. you shouldn’t be standing here, crying in front of him like you’re still his to comfort.
but then his arms are around you, wrapping around your shoulders, around your head, pulling you into his chest before you can even think to push him away.
he’s warm.
his scent, familiar, overwhelming, engulfs you instantly. and suddenly, it all feels . . . warm in here. safe. like something you shouldn’t still want. like something you don’t know how to let go of.
and soon you’re back under the sheets, and so is he.
it’s quiet. on purpose.
he sits upright against the headboard, back pressed into the pillows, the fabric of his hoodie bunching slightly where his shoulders meet the wood. you’re not sure where he’s looking, but his gaze is far away, unfocused, lost in thoughts he won’t say out loud.
you don’t try to figure them out. you don’t ask. instead, you just let yourself sink into him, pressing your cheek against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall beneath you. his warmth seeps into your skin, into the cotton of your sleep shirt, into the spaces between each breath. it feels familiar. dangerously so.
one of your hands stays curled between your bodies, fingers pressing into your own palm like you’re trying to hold something in. the other rests lightly on his abdomen, just for a second, just enough to feel the soft give of fabric over skin. hesitation creeps in, a warning, a reminder, but you ignore it. your fingers trace a barely-there path lower, brushing against his hand.
he doesn’t pull away.
your fingertips graze his knuckles first, featherlight, and then you take his hand completely, slipping your fingers between his, linking them like muscle memory.
he squeezes.
it’s subtle, almost unconscious, but it’s there. his hand is warm, slightly calloused, the way it’s always been. the way it shouldn’t still feel so right.
he exhales slowly, and you hear it more than you see it, feel it more than you acknowledge it. but when you glance up at him, you catch the shift in his face. the slight furrow of his brows. the parting of his lips, like there’s something sitting on his tongue, something he won’t say.
his eyes are trained on nothing. somewhere in the distance. worried. like he knows this is wrong too. but he stays. neither of you move, neither of you loosen your grip.
he reaches over and turns off the bedside lamp, but nothing really changes. the silence lingers. the warmth stays. you both just lay there, tangled in something you shouldn’t be, holding onto something neither of you know how to let go of.
and maybe that just sums you two up as a whole.
#drew#drew starkey#drew starkey smut#drew starkey x you#drew starkey blurb#drew starkey fanfiction#drew starkey fic#drew starkey fanfic#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey imagine#drew smut#drew x you#drew blurb#drew fic#drew imagine#drew fanfiction#drew fanfic#rafe#rafe cameron#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron fanfic#rafe cameron drabble#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe cameron x reader#coryndoll
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Take me home
Day one of the @bucktommyfluffebruary - prompt ‘non sexual intimacy’
Notes: established relationship | words: 938 | rated: G
[Read on A03]
——-
Tommy doesn’t sit down on the bench as much as he collapses vaguely in its direction. He blinks slowly, eyes gritty with exhaustion. He gives up and just closes them, head tipped back against his locker. He can feel sleep pulling at the edges of his consciousness. He just wants to be able to click his fingers and be at home. He does not want to have to drive there.
The door to the locker room clangs as someone leaves and Tommy jerks upright. The fogginess of near sleep clouding his vision. Maybe driving would not be such a great idea. He twists and fumbles open the door of his locker, retrieving his phone. He scrubs his face with his palms and tries to concentrate long enough to find the right contact. He returns to his previous position, head tipped back on his locker, eyes closed as he listens to the phone ring.
“Hey love, everything okay?”
“Mmmm.” He tries to summon the energy to form real words.
“Bad shift?” Concern edges into Evan’s voice.
“No” Tommy can hear the roughness in his own voice. “Just long, didn’t get much sleep. Would you-” he falters momentarily, the feeling that he’s asking too much raising its head. He pushes it down, they’ve talked about this. “Would you come and pick me up? I don’t think me driving is a great idea right now.”
“Oh, yeah of course.” He can hear some movement on the other end of the phone as Evan moves through the house. Through their house. A smile pulls at Tommy’s lips at the thought.
“Give me twenty and I’ll be there.”
“Okay, thank you.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”
The phone clicks off and Tommy is left in silence again. He takes a deep breath and feels himself relax, he settles in to wait for Evan.
——-
What feels like moments later, there is a gentle hand on his shoulder. Tommy blinks awake, sluggishly sits up, his back protesting the position he had let himself stay in for the last twenty minutes.
Evan’s smile is as bright as ever as he looks up from where he is crouched down in front of Tommy.
“Hey love.”
“Hey.”
Evan is fiddling with something on the floor, Tommy feels his legs being gently moved around. He tilts forwards and realises that Evan is untying his boots, carefully taking them off and setting them aside. Tommy groans, he’s still in his flight suit, the thought of having to get dressed feels vaguely overwhelming. He lifts his arms and fumbles with the poppers. His movements are slow and uncoordinated, the tiny metal clasp proving much more difficult than it should. Evan is there immediately, gently pushing his hands aside and releasing the poppers.
“It’s okay, let me do it.”
Evan slides his hands under the shoulders of the suit and frees Tommy’s arms, peppering gentle kisses along his collarbone as he goes.
Tommy leans into him, presses their cheeks together for a moment. It feels nice, to be taken care of. He’s not happy they broke up, all that time ago, but he can’t help but be grateful for the things it brought about. He’s always been so afraid of letting himself be known, be vulnerable but here, in this moment, he’s grateful for having broken through that barrier. Allowing himself to be so completely seen by Evan, it feels so beautifully intimate.
He is pulled from his thoughts by a gentle tap on his elbow,
“Lift your arms up for me, let’s get you into some clean clothes.”
Evan reaches over the top of him and pulls his bag out of the locker. Rummages through and pulls free a new set of clothes.
Before he knows it he is being pulled up off the bench, sweat pants secured around his waist. He lets himself fall into the crook of Evan’s neck.
“Thank you.” He mumbles into the soft skin there.
A hand runs up his back, holds him close.
“No problem darling, I’m always going to be here to help.”
Warmth stirs up in Tommy’s chest as he lets himself be guided out of the door.
——-
As they approach the jeep, Evan starts to rummage around in the bag over his shoulder, it’s awkward given that his other arm is being used to keep Tommy from sliding down onto the floor. He eyes the concrete, he could sleep there, it would probably be fine.
“Where are your keys?”
Tommy frowns,
“They are in the side pocket. I’m exhausted Evan, not drunk, you don’t have to confiscate them.”
Evan laughs, the sound is nice, drifting through Tommy’s ever slowing thoughts.
“I’m driving you home remember?”
Tommys sluggish mind fails to process what Evan is saying.
“But then you’ll have to leave your car here.”
Evan chuckles again. He is increasingly aware that Tommy looks like he’s about to collapse. But he can’t help but take a moment to look at his boyfriend, brows scrunched down adorably, trying to figure through Evan’s words.
Evan pulls out the keys and guides Tommy round to the passenger door. He opens it and helps Tommy in, who is, by this point, a bundle of uncoordinated limbs.
He smiles patiently as Tommy gets comfortable.
“My car is at home, I took an uber here, I am going to drive your car home. Then both of our cars will be at home.”
“Oh.”
Evan chuckles, Tommy is hardly awake anymore, his head dropping to rest on his shoulder.
Evan runs his fingers gently through his hair, presses a feather light kiss to his cheek
“Let’s get you home.”
Tagging some beloveds (as always let me know if you want to be added/removed): @leashybebes @livelaughlou @loucifersbitch @dark-alice-lilith @mmso-notlikethat @laundryandtaxesworld @hippolotamus @bucksaiga @littlepaws9 @sad-girl-hours23 @evansbuck-ley @jamieroyjamieroy @typicalopposite
@moonydanny @teenmaximoff @bucksboobs @ohithankyou @bi-bi-buckleys @rubydaiquiri @hellion-child @aringofsalt @sweaters-and-silly @theotherbuckley @comfortingevanbuckley @epiphainie @wikiangela @bidisasterevankinard
@sunnywithachanceofbi @desert--moonchild @blitzynatural @actuallyitsellie @big-urchin-energy @fyrehose @buckleyskinards @owlgirl495 @honeyloulou @setmeatopthepyre @salty-autistic-writer @thecarrott
#bucktommy Fluffebruary#guards! take that sleepy boy home#bucktommy#911#fanfic#my writing#evan buckley#tommy kinard
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i only think of you, will we be together soon? - choi seungcheol scenario
soooo hellooo ~ this is just a quick epilogue/pt 2 of the seungcheol scenario i wrote, you can read it here. I just thought i should atleast write their first kiss🥺🥺🥺 and it's soooo cute. anyways i hope you like it🤍
for my other svt fics, check them here
All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.
(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)
It was an unusual sight—Seungcheol sleeping in on a weekend.
Usually, he'd be up early, either at the gym or getting a head start on errands. But today, he was sprawled across his bed, face buried in his pillow, the blanket barely covering his bare back. His room was dim, the only light filtering through the gap in his curtains.
When you let yourself into his apartment, calling out his name and getting no response, you knew exactly where to find him. Quietly opening the door to his bedroom, you peeked in, finding him sound asleep. His hair was a mess, his broad shoulders rising and falling with his deep breaths.
A mischievous grin spread across your face. Creeping toward the bed, you carefully climbed onto it, trying not to wake him too soon. Then, without warning, you flopped onto his back, draping yourself over him like a blanket.
"Cheol," you called softly, your voice sing-song as you poked his shoulder. "Wake up~."
He groaned into his pillow, his voice muffled but clearly displeased. "Five more minutes..."
"Nope," you chirped, wiggling a little to get comfortable on top of him. "I need you to drive me somewhere!"
He cracked one eye open, groaning again as he turned his head slightly. "Where?" His voice was raspy, thick with sleep, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing.
"The dog café!" you announced, resting your chin on his shoulder. "I’ve been wanting to go, and you promised you’d take me!"
He sighed dramatically, though there was no real annoyance behind it. "Why can’t you let me sleep in peace?"
"Because you’re Seungcheol, and you love me,"
The smile on your face growing, since that moment at the beach there's this blanket of unspoken feelings that doesn't really need to said because at the end of the day he knows you and you know him.
At that, he cracked a small smile, though his eyes were still closed. "You’re lucky I do."
He shifted beneath you, effortlessly flipping over so you were lying on his chest instead of his back. His arms lazily wrapped around you, trapping you in place.
"Cheol, you’re supposed to be getting up," you protested, though you didn’t try to move
"Mm," he hummed, pulling you closer. "Five minutes. Then we’ll go to your dog café."
"That’s what you said before!"
He chuckled, his deep laugh rumbling through his chest. "Yeah, but this time I mean it."
You sighed, knowing you weren’t going to win. But as he held you, his warmth and steady heartbeat lulling you into comfort, you figured maybe five more minutes wouldn’t hurt.
After Seungcheol finally got out of bed (which, in reality, took more than just five minutes), the two of you headed out to the dog café you’d been pestering him about all week. He still looked groggy as he drove, his hair tousled and his hoodie lazily thrown on.
"You’re lucky I like dogs," he muttered, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye as you excitedly bounced in the passenger seat.
"You’re lucky you like *me*," you shot back with a grin, hugging your knees to your chest as you turned to face him.
He just shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
When you arrived, the café was bustling with happy barks and wagging tails. The moment you stepped inside, a small golden retriever puppy trotted up to you, wagging its tail so hard it looked like it might take off.
"Oh my God, Cheol, look at this baby!" you squealed, crouching down to pet the dog. The puppy immediately rolled onto its back, demanding belly rubs, which you happily obliged.
Seungcheol stood nearby, watching you with a fond expression as you giggled and cooed over the dog. "You’re worse than the dogs," he teased, crossing his arms.
"Excuse me? They’re adorable!" you retorted, looking up at him from your spot on the floor.
He crouched down beside you, scratching behind the puppy’s ears. "Yeah, they are," he admitted, his voice softer now.
You spent the next hour playing with various dogs, from energetic beagles to sleepy bulldogs, while Seungcheol alternated between joining in and watching you from a distance. At one point, a particularly bold corgi jumped into his lap, and you nearly cried laughing at the sight of big, tough Seungcheol awkwardly trying to balance the squirming dog.
"Cheol, you look so cute," you teased, snapping a picture on your phone.
He gave you a mock glare. "Delete that."
"Nope," you said, grinning mischievously.
When it was finally time to leave, you reluctantly said goodbye to the dogs, practically dragging your feet as Seungcheol led you back to the car.
"Happy now?" he asked as he opened the passenger door for you
"Very," you said, your face still lit up with joy.
As he got into the driver’s seat, he glanced over at you, shaking his head with a smile. "You’re such a kid."
"And yet, here you are," you replied, sticking your tongue out at him.
He laughed, shaking his head again. "Yeah, here I am," he said softly, as if to himself.
Then, with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the console, he added, "Let me know when you want to go again."
Your heart fluttered a little at his words, but you played it off, leaning your head back against the seat with a satisfied sigh. "You’re the best, Cheol."
He didn’t say anything, but the smile on his face as he drove you home spoke volumes.
Since he went with you to the dog cafe, it only felt right to go with him too if he wants to do something he likes. Unlucky for you, Seungcheol lives an active lifestyle.
Seungcheol chuckled as he watched you trudge behind him on the trail, your arms crossed and a dramatic pout plastered on your face.
The usually peaceful sound of nature was interrupted by the crunch of your footsteps and the occasional sigh you let out. He stopped to let you catch up, turning to look at your grumpy expression.
“You hate it that much?” he teased, a playful grin spreading across his face.
You nodded like a child, your bottom lip jutting out even more. “I hate it,” you grumbled. “The bugs, the sweating, the uphill part—ugh, especially the uphill part.”
He laughed softly and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You could’ve just said so, baby. I wouldn’t have forced you.”
You shook your head, looking down at the ground. “But you wanted me to join you,” you mumbled. “And you always try out my hobbies, so I figured I should try yours too.”
Seungcheol’s grin softened into something warmer as he stepped closer, his hands gently settling on your shoulders. “Yah,” he said, his tone tender, “you didn’t have to do this just for me. I don’t want you to be miserable.”
“I’m not miserable,” you argued halfheartedly, though your pout betrayed you. “I’m just… not enjoying it.”
That made him laugh again. He bent down slightly to meet your eyes. “Let’s turn back, hmm? We can go grab something to eat instead. How does that sound?”
Your eyes lit up at the suggestion. “Really? You’re not upset?”
“How could I be upset when you’re this cute?” he said, pinching your cheek lightly. “You tried for me, and that means a lot. But next time, I’ll make sure we do something we both enjoy.”
You smiled, your pout finally replaced with a more genuine expression. “Okay. But no more hiking.”
“No more hiking,” he promised, taking your hand as the two of you turned back down the trail. “But I’ll probably still tease you about this for the rest of your life.”
“Cheol!” You groaned, and he laughed, his grip on your hand tightening as he led you back toward the car, already thinking of how to spoil you for putting up with his hobby.
It was one of those rare, lazy afternoons when the group was hanging out at Jeonghan’s place, sprawled across his living room in varying states of relaxation.
You were sitting cross-legged on the couch, quietly sipping on your drink, while Seungcheol sat beside you, one arm casually slung across the back of the couch, his fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder.
Jeonghan, ever the instigator, watched the two of you with a knowing glint in his eyes. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he smirked. “So,” he started, drawing out the word like it was some grand announcement. “Are you two, like, officially a couple now?”
You froze mid-sip, eyes darting to Seungcheol. He didn’t even flinch, just let out a small exhale through his nose as if he’d been expecting the question.
“I mean...” he began, his voice trailing off as he scratched the back of his neck, his gaze flicking to you for a split second before settling back on Jeonghan.
“What kind of answer is that?” Jeonghan said, feigning exasperation. “You either are or you aren’t.”
Seungkwan, perched on the armrest of a nearby chair, chimed in, his grin wide. “Yeah, hyung, spill it. The suspense is killing us.”
You shifted uncomfortably, suddenly hyperaware of Seungcheol’s hand now fully resting on your shoulder. “I—uh—” you stammered, unsure of what to say.
Seungcheol finally turned his head to look at you, his expression softening in a way that made your heart skip a beat. “Whatever she wants us to be,” he said simply, his tone steady but laced with something unspoken.
The room went silent for a beat before Jeonghan groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “That’s not an answer, Cheol!”
Seungkwan burst into laughter, clapping his hands. “I swear, you two are impossible.”
You felt your cheeks heat up, but Seungcheol just chuckled, his thumb brushing lightly against your shoulder in reassurance.
“I think we’re doing just fine,” he said calmly, shooting Jeonghan a pointed look that clearly said, *drop it.*
Jeonghan raised his hands in surrender, though the smirk never left his face. “Fine, fine. But don’t think I’m not keeping an eye on you two.”
As the conversation shifted to another topic, you glanced at Seungcheol, your lips twitching into a small, shy smile. He caught your gaze and leaned in slightly, his voice low enough for only you to hear.
“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I’ve got this... whatever *this* is.”
And somehow, that was all the reassurance you needed.
Later he drives you home, the hum of the car engine was the only sound filling the space between you and Seungcheol. The evening air was cool, and the faint smell of his cologne lingered in the car, you fiddled with the sleeve of his jacket you were wearing, the fabric too big for you but warm and comforting, much like the man sitting next to you.
“So…” you started, your voice timid, breaking the silence. “Are we like… what are we…”
You trailed off, unsure how to word the question that had been buzzing in your head since Jeonghan’s teasing earlier.
Seungcheol glanced at you briefly, his expression calm, but you could see the flicker of something softer in his eyes. He kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the armrest. “You don’t have to overthink their question,” he said gently. “No rush…”
“Yeah, but I want to know too,” you mumbled quietly, almost shyly, cutting him off before he could finish.
His grip on the wheel tightened just a fraction, and he let out a soft exhale. He pulled the car to a stop at a red light, finally turning his full attention to you.
You were twiddling with the sleeve of his jacket, your fingers nervously tugging at the fabric. That familiar pout was back, the one he could never seem to resist.
“Y/N…” he started, his voice softer now, almost hesitant.
You peeked up at him, your eyes big and vulnerable, and it hit him again—how deep he was, how there was no getting out of this even if he wanted to.
“You really want to know?” he asked, his voice dipping lower.
You nodded, your teeth catching your bottom lip nervously.
He leaned back in his seat, his gaze steady on yours. “You’re…” He hesitated for a brief second before letting the words fall out. “You’re the person I think about first thing in the morning and the last thing at night. You’re the one I’d drop everything for, no questions asked. And you’re the only one I want sitting next to me, wearing my jacket, pouting at me like that.”
Your lips parted slightly, caught off guard by his sudden honesty.
“So, what are we?” he continued, his lips quirking into the smallest smile. “We’re whatever you want us to be. But if it’s up to me…” He reached out, his hand gently brushing against yours. “We’re already everything.”
You felt your cheeks heat up, his words wrapping around your heart like a warm blanket. “Cheol…”
The light turned green, but he didn’t move the car immediately, his eyes still locked on you. “So?” he prompted, his tone lighter now. “What are we, Y/N?”
You gave him a shy smile, your fingers brushing against his. “I think we’re everything too,” you whispered.
He grinned then, that dimpled, boyish grin that made your chest feel tight. “Good,” he said simply, as if that was all he needed to hear.
And with that, he shifted gears and drove on, the air between you lighter but filled with an unspoken promise.
The quiet of the evening wrapped around you both as Seungcheol walked you to your apartment. The city was alive in the distance, but here, on the dimly lit stairs leading to your door, it was just the two of you.
You stopped at the top, turning to him as he stood a step below, his broad shoulders at perfect height for you to wrap your arms around his neck. Your fingers naturally found their way to the ends of his hair, twisting the soft strands between them.
He looked up at you, his dark eyes warm and fond, his dimples making an appearance as he gave you that small, knowing smile. “What?” he asked, his voice quiet but teasing, like he already knew what you were going to say.
You smiled back, tilting your head slightly as if studying his face. “Nothing,” you said, your voice soft, your heart full. “I love you.”
For a moment, his smile faltered—not from doubt, but from the overwhelming warmth that bloomed across his chest.
Then, without hesitation, he leaned closer, the space between you shrinking as his lips brushed yours in the softest, most tender kiss. It wasn’t rushed or uncertain. It was steady and gentle, like the beginning of something infinite.
He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his hand lifting to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice low but certain.
You couldn’t help but smile again, leaning into his touch, your forehead resting lightly against his. “Good,” you whispered, your fingers still playing with his hair.
His lips quirked into another grin, his dimples deepening. “Good,” he echoed softly, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. Then he kisses you again.
And in that quiet moment, on the top of those stairs, it was as though the rest of the world ceased to exist. There was just you, Seungcheol, and the unspoken promise that this—whatever it was—was everything you’d both ever need.
#fic#story#svt#seventeen#seventeen imagine#seventeen scenario#seventeen scoups#seventeen fluff#seventeen x y/n#svt imagine#svt fluff#svt scenario#choi seungcheol#seungcheol imagine#seungcheol scenario#seungcheol fluff#seungcheol boyfriend#scoup imagine#scoups fluff
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𝙠𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙣𝙤-𝙚𝙪𝙡 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 — “let me take care of you.”
ִ𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 — kang no-eul (guard) x female reader (player)
𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 — this is my first fanfic ever and english isn’t my first language so please forgive me if isn’t perfect
𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 — 2k
𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙚
she’s been watching you—observing you. she’s intrigued by you, drawn to you. and now, she’s ready to make you hers.
you sit on your bunk bed silently. the soft, warm glow of the lights only makes the harsh reality of what you just witnessed feel more surreal. the deadly game of ‘red light, green light’ still echoes through your mind—the brutal violence of each person caught moving, shot right on the spot. you are alive only because a man called gi-hun had guided you, giving you instructions that helped you stay still. apparently, he has played these games before. despite the help, you’re deeply shocked. you have no idea what to do. how on earth had you ended up here?
you stare at the dry, hard sandwich in front of you, the nausea twisting your stomach so tightly that taking a bite feels impossible. your tracksuit was covered in a few spatters of blood here and there, each drop a cruel reminder of everything that just happened.
you close your eyes, hoping for a moment of peace, but instead, the faces of countless innocent lives lost only hours ago invade your mind. after a while, you give up, settling on the edge of the bed, the silence heavy and suffocating. you wait for the night to crawl by and for the next brutal game to begin.
the other players around you begin to quiet down, drifting into an uneasy sleep. some, like you, remain awake. your gaze catches the man from earlier. what was his name again? oh, right—gi-hun. he meets your eyes and offers a smile, but the smile is hollow, full of terror. you give a slight smile in return, then quickly redirect your attention, focusing on the cold, hard floor instead. you can’t afford to get attached in here. not with the dangers lurking around you.
two hours of heavy silence strike by. most of the others, including gi-hun, have drifted off into a restless sleep, but not you. you’re exhausted, sure, but sleep refuses to come. that’s when you suddenly feel it—someone’s watching you. you turn around instinctively, but there’s no one there. a cold shiver runs down your spine, an eerie feeling begins to settle in your chest. what if someone’s sizing you up, thinking you’re an easy target? you frown and shake off the thought. it’s nothing. probably.
still, that feeling lingers, creeping under your skin. it’s as if someone’s eyes are boring into you, watching your every move. you turn around, but—again—there’s no one in sight. just as you’re about to brush it off, a deep, cold voice cuts through the silence.
“eat. you need the strength.”
your heart stops. the words hang in the air, making your breath catch in your throat.
immediately, you turn around, scrambling to the far side of the bed when you spot the pink guard standing at the foot of it. what the hell?
“who the fuck are you?” you snap, voice thick with defiance. “what do you want from me?”
the guard seems unbothered. she doesn’t even flinch. doesn’t react at all, actually. she just stands there, cold and silent. her silence feels heavier than any threat you’ve felt in here.
you frown, frustration bubbling up, before you remember the question she asked before.
“….im not hungry.” you mutter, your voice tight.
“too bad,” she replies, her tone sharp and demanding. “i wasn’t asking.”
you don’t know why she came up to you, but given the fact she’s the one holding a gun, you reluctantly take a bite of the sandwich and swallow it. you look at the guard, your lips twitching slightly as you feel your stomach already starting to reject the food.
“happy now?”
she doesn’t answer, walking away without a word, returning to her position by the door. but your impulsive thoughts take over, and you call out, stopping her.
“hey, wait!”
her fast pace slows to a stop, but she doesn’t turn to face you.
“the guards are not allowed to talk to the players.” she says flatly.
you frown, the words sparking up more curiousity in you.
“then why did you come up to me?”
there’s a flicker— a barely noticeable flinch— and for a moment, she’s silent, the weight of her hesitation hanging in the air. finally, she speaks, her voice cool and neutral.
“…because you seemed lost.”
the words catch you off guard. she doesn’t say anything else as she turns away and walks back to her position, leaving you with a knot in your chest and a dozen questions you’re not sure you want the answers to. you’re left in the silence, trying to make sense of it, but she doesn’t seem like she’s about to come back and explain.
with a sigh, you follow her advice and finish the sandwich. you finally manage to close your eyes, drifting into an anxious, uneasy sleep.
the next morning, as soon as you wake up, you’re eyes dart around the room, searching for the mysterious guard from last night—but she’s nowhere to be found. before you can dwell on it, a sudden need to pee takes over. you head to the women’s bathroom, knowing the guards don’t let anyone in outside of bathroom hours. so when your knocks go unanswered, you’re not surprised.
just as turn your head back to your bunk, a soft click breaks the silence. the door behind you unlocks.
“player 241. come in.”
as you turn around, the strange sensation from last night washes over you again. you can’t see her face, but somehow, you just know—it’s her. the guard.
without a word, you step inside the bathroom, offering a subtle nod as a thanks. she says nothing. the silence affects you more than it should.
after finishing your business, you walk over to the sink to wash your hands, but the moment the door clicks shut and locks, your body freezes. slowly, you glance to the side. she’s standing by the door, watching you.
your pulse quickens. a lump forms in your throat.
“what do you want from me?” your voice wavers. “please… don’t kill me.”
she scoffs, a quiet, almost amused sound, before taking a step closer.
“kill you?” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. “now, why would i want to do that?”
confusion swirls you. who is she? why won’t she leave you alone?
the woman steps closer, backing you into a corner. you search for an escape, but there’s nowhere to go—and nothing to say. she extends her hand, offering yet another dry, unappetizing sandwich. you sigh out in frustration.
“i don’t want this! i’m not hungry and they’re disgusting—”
“there’s a clue for the next game inside.” she interrupts dryly.
you fall silent and your breath catches.
“eat it,” she continues, unwavering. “you’ll find a slip of paper hidden inside. you can thank me later.”
you stare at the sandwich, your mind racing. a clue? the guard turns to leave again, but this time, you’re faster. you step in front of her, blocking her way.
“no, wait! you don’t just get to walk away. i want answers.”
your voice is firm, but there’s a tremble beneath it—partly from irritation, partly from the submachine gun slung across her chest.
she stops, tilting her head slightly. “answers, about what?” her tone is flat, unreadable.
“about… this. about why you’re helping me. about who you are.”
silence stretches between you. for a moment, you think she won’t answer. then, without warning, her hand moves to her mask.
she pulls it off.
deep brown eyes meet yours—sharp, intense. pale skin, dusted with freckles, is flawed by a fresh cut along her cheek. her lips are cracked and swollen, as if she’s been biting them too much. despite everything, she’s… beautiful. breathtaking, even. she exhales, running a hand through her damp, sweat-matted hair. then, locking eyes with you, she speaks.
“kang no-eul.” she says boldly.
“what?” you’re still struggling to process everything happening right now.
she sighs in slight irritation. “my name. you asked for my name. it’s kang no-eul.”
to your embarrassment, the sound of her low, steady voice sends a warm blush creeping up your cheeks.
“oh. um, my name is—”
“i know.” she cuts you off smoothly, a small smirk playing on her lips. “i know who you are. i’ve been observing you.”
you take a hesitant step back. “…observing me?”
her expression doesn’t change. “the way you shut yourself off from others. the way you always seem to be lost in thoughts. the way you‘re constantly one step ahead of the other players. you’re intelligent, aren’t you?”
there’s something unnerving about her tone—half admiration, half something else. something colder.
“but.. you’re a guard.”
you meet her gaze, and instantly regret it when you feel your cheeks flaming up again. god, get it together!
a barely-there chuckle escapes her lips. “good observation.” she doesn’t look away. her eyes, dark and mysterious, shimmer with something you can’t quite place.
you lean against the cold bathroom wall, burying your face in your hands.
“what the hell is going on..” you whisper to yourself.
the guard—kang no-eul—takes a step closer, resting a hand on your shoulder. her expression remains neutral, but there’s something in her eyes. a glimmer of something almost… affectionate?
“hey. don’t be like that. you’re underestimating yourself.”
you lift your head, shooting her a glare. “you don’t even know me.”
she laughs. it’s not the reaction you expect, and the sound sends a chill down your spine. it’s confident. unbothered. she’s not intimidated by you in the slightest.
“maybe,” she says, smirking. “but i do know this—you should stop whining and get it together. because no matter how smart you are, crying won’t get you anywhere.” her words sting more than they should. you slap her hand off your shoulder, your anger taking over.
“leave me alone.”
within seconds, she grabs your wrists again, tighter this time. not just firmly, but demanding.
“listen to me,” she hisses, her voice sharp and low. “i’m risking my life to help you. so you better do as i say before i end up scraping your corpse off the game room floor.”
you freeze. her grip is solid, her words slicing through the air like a blade. for the first time, real fear creeps in.
she notices. the tension in her hands shifts, and just as suddenly as she grabbed you, she releases your wrists. slowly, her fingers trail up to your face, brushing against your cheek. it’s a stark contrast—gentle, almost.. tender.
you don’t understand what’s happening. you don’t understand her. but the second her touch meets your skin, something stirs deep inside your stomach. butterflies.
your gaze flickers to hers. your eyes linger on the fresh cut along her cheek. how did she get that?
“do you think you can do that?” she asks, voice softer now. “listen to me?”
you hesitate, unsure. her hand moves again, this time gripping your chin, tilting your head until your eyes lock onto hers. her hold is firm.
“i’m talking to you.”
you swallow hard and nod.
“use your words.”
you don’t know why you’re listening to her, why you’re obeying so easily— but you do. something about her presence, her voice, leaves no room for resistance.
after a brief pause, you whisper: “yes. i’ll listen to you, kang no-eul.”
she smiles, slow and satisfied. “good girl.”
you shiver as she speaks those words. you barely know her, yet something about her pulls you in, an invisible force you can’t resist. it’s dangerous. it’s intoxicating.
but she doesn’t give you time to process it.
before you can react, she leans in, pressing her lips to yours— soft at first, almost teasing. but then the kiss deepens, growing more urgent, more possessive with each passing second. at first, you’re too stunned to move, frozen under her touch. but then, instinct takes over. you melt into her, kissing her back passionately, your hands finding their way to her arms, her shoulders.
she hums softly against your lips, her slim fingers threading through your hair as if she’s known you forever. as if you already belong to her.
“just like that, darling.” she murmurs, her voice a breathy promise.
“let me take care of you.”
#squid game#kang no eul#guard 011#wlw#kang no eul x reader#squid game season 2#squid game s2#noeul x reader#squid game fanfic
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The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part nine
Back on my bullshit of cranking these chapters out, so here's another one!
Warnings: Hotch being...kind?, oh no they're warming up to each other (kind of), just kidding they have their moments of arguing, dramaaaa
Hotch was in his early twenties when he first heard about The Strangler’s case. It made national news, after all, once a connection was established between the cases showing up in Georgia and California. Two opposite ends of the United States, and The Strangler struck in both for over a year — maybe longer, though it was never confirmed.
Hotch was still in law school, then. He remembers reading about the case, one of the first few times he had heard of the BAU. He never studied the case closely; he didn’t have the time. And, honestly, when it comes to the cases the BAU has handled over the years, Carson Adkins is not the strangest.
His is interesting to study because of how long he evaded the authorities. The women he strangled to death were not his only crimes. Numerous traffic violations, domestic disputes, mental distress calls, and even one illegal possession of a firearm littered his record in the midst of the strangulations. Yet none of those led to his capture like they should’ve.
Truthfully, none of the murders across Georgia and California were solidly connected before he turned himself in — only because he wanted to find you.
Hotch understands, to some degree. If anything ever happened to Jack, he’d do everything in his power to find him and make it right again. That’s exactly what Richard Monroe did for Lila, too.
What he can’t understand is why you wouldn’t disclose this to him. Him, of all people, your Unit Chief. Why couldn’t you tell him? Why did it have to come to this?
Hotch knew, deep down, that whatever was hidden in your file would have to be discussed once he found out what it was. He just wasn’t expecting it to be something like this. Something he has no idea how to go about bringing up to you.
Because it does have to be discussed. Whether you like it or not— whether Hotch likes it or not because he knows it will only start a fight, it has to be discussed. At least so some common ground can be reached. A heart-to-heart doesn’t need to happen, but he needs to be aware of where your head is.
But it can’t happen now, while you’re on this case. The women and their families are suffering here, and that’s the top priority: catching whoever is doing this.
Once the unsub is caught and you’re all back in Quantico, Hotch will bring it up. Not because he wants to, but because he has to. He has no choice.
+++
After the wine with Rossi, you sleep probably the best you’ve ever slept on a case. You even wake up before your alarm, giving you time to shower and get dressed, and head downstairs to snag some breakfast before it’s time to meet the rest of the team.
You expect to be the first person downstairs, but you’re not. Hotch is there. And he looks like he’s been there for hours.
“Well,” you pull the chair out across from him, dropping into it with a huff. You cross your arms over your chest, all while Hotch is scowling at you. “You look like shit.”
He doesn’t even grace you with an answer.
You shrug your jacket off over the back of the chair, leaving him to go grab something to eat. You return with a muffin, fruit, and two coffees.
Hotch’s eyes snap to yours when you set the coffee down next to his half-empty one.
“You’re gonna need another one if you’re gonna get through today looking like that,” you answer, taking a sip of your own. “Couldn’t sleep?”
Hotch averts his eyes. “No.”
You watch him as he slowly chews the remaining bites of his fruit. “What’s wrong with you?”
His eyes flick back to yours, another glare settling in. “Nothing.”
“Okay,” you hold up your hands in surrender, unwrapping your muffin. “Just thought I’d ask.”
“Don’t hurt yourself,” he says. “How’d you sleep?”
“Fine,” you shrug. “Why?”
“Just thought I’d ask.”
Now it’s your turn to glare. “Don’t hurt yourself,” you mock.
Slowly, the rest of the team filters downstairs to grab their own breakfast. You’re grateful for the extra company, especially Emily and JJ. You gladly leave the table with Hotch to join them at the next one over.
You can feel Hotch watching you, and he only stops when Rossi sits down across from him, asking him the same things you’ve already asked him. His answers stay the same, though less defensive, of course.
You turn your back to him, helping Prentiss figure out where she should go for her next Sin to Win Weekend. Your vote is on Miami, but she’s leaning toward Vegas for this one.
It’s almost time to leave when Hotch’s phone rings, and all conversations halt. Bad news, most likely.
Hotch’s face gives nothing away, but you know it won’t. It’s not in his face. It’s in his shoulders, and they tense when he hears the news. You know exactly what he’s going to say before he says it.
“They’ve found another body,” he says as the call ends. “Let’s go.”
Chairs screech as everyone stands and heads for the exit. Morgan leads, no doubt going to drive like he always does. You’re just a few steps away from the table when you hear Hotch call out your name.
You turn, preparing for a small lecture about how you should behave today in the field, only to find he’s standing there with your jacket in his hands.
“You left this,” he says quietly, passing it to you as he catches up.
Huh. You must’ve forgotten to grab it when you switched tables. You fall into step beside him. “Thanks.”
He doesn’t reply as he walks ahead, getting in the driver’s seat of the other car. In your confusion about his behavior, you slide into the passenger seat of Morgan’s.
You don’t bother asking Morgan if he thinks something is up with Hotch too, but the last thing you want to hear right now is how you and Hotch are warming up to one another.
Because you’re not.
You’re not warming up to him. He looked like shit, so you pointed it out. He doesn’t normally look like Death beat the shit out of him for fun overnight. How could you not say something?
Who knows what’s up with him. It’s not your business anyway.
Morgan’s phone rings and he digs it out, pressing to his ear. “Yeah.”
You don’t know why he doesn’t put it on speaker, but you make eye contact with Reid in the rearview and shrug.
“Alright, yeah,” Morgan says with a nod. “We’ll do that. Got it. Bye, Hotch.”
You figured it was him. “What’s up?”
“They’re going to the scene, he wants us to head to the precinct and call Garcia to see what she has,” Morgan explains, casting a quick glance at you.
You don’t miss the glance. “What?”
“Nothin’,” Morgan shrugs, turning toward the precinct while Hotch’s car goes straight ahead. “You two looked cozy this morning.”
You scoff. “Right.”
“It’s true,” Reid pipes up from the backseat.
“Hey!” You turn to look at him in pure betrayal. “Seriously?”
“What?” Reid looks just as perplexed.
You huff as you turn back around. “He was already downstairs when I got there, and I got there early. He looks like shit. Like he didn’t sleep.”
“He looked fine to me,” Reid says, having no idea he’s just put another nail in your coffin.
Morgan grins.
“Don’t you dare,” you hiss, pointing an accusatory finger at him.
Morgan only raises one hand off the wheel. “I’m not.”
+++
If anyone asks, Hotch told you, Morgan, and Reid to go back to the precinct because it’s part of his usual divide-and-conquer method for cases.
It has nothing to do with the fact that the officer sounded shaken up on the phone, meaning this one must be bad — and after researching more of Carson Adkins’ crimes last night, Hotch doesn’t want you anywhere near this one, not if it’s as bad as the officer made it seem on the phone.
You’re liable to shut down again and that’s not what he needs. He needs you focused.
The area is crawling with police cars as some officers try to corral a growing crowd of locals. To make matters worse, Hotch sees a news truck pull in behind them.
JJ spots it too with a deep sigh. “Got it. No comment.”
“Thank you,” Hotch replies with a nod.
Hotch, Prentiss, and Rossi flash their badges at the officers holding the perimeter before they’re let underneath the crime scene tape. The unsub left the body outside the elementary school. Next to the playground, for god’s sake.
They have to find him.
“Do we know who she is?” Rossi asks an officer.
“No,” he shakes his head. “But the coroner took her prints, so hopefully we’ll find her in a database somewhere.”
“Time of death?” Prentiss asks.
“Said somewhere between three and five a.m.”
Deputy Harris is standing off to the side, staring at the children’s swings and slides with a set jaw. Hotch makes his way over silently, noting the redness in the deputy’s eyes.
“We’re going to find who did this,” Hotch assures him quietly.
“We better,” Harris says, voice hoarse. “Who dumps a body at an elementary school? What if someone hadn’t found her before the kids got here? I—” He shakes his head. “School is canceled for the day, I called the board a minute ago. I don’t want any kids here.”
“Understandable,” Hotch nods, and probably for the better. They’ll need to investigate the area and it’s best if there are no children even inside the school to witness the commotion. “That was the right call, Deputy.”
“Thank you,” he says, turning to shake Hotch’s hand. “You’ll find him?”
Hotch accepts the handshake with an even firmer nod. “We will.”
He leaves him to return to where Prentiss is kneeling next to the body, studying the strangulation marks on her neck.
“It looks almost like hands and something else were used,” Prentiss says quietly. “Almost like…”
“Like he wasn’t strong enough to do it on his own this time,” Hotch finishes. “Like she fought back.”
Hotch finds the coroner talking with Rossi, waving them both over.
“Did you swab under her fingernails?” Hotch asks.
“Not yet, but I can at the lab,” the coroner replies.
“What are you thinking?” Rossi asks.
“That she fought back,” Prentiss says, standing up and taking her gloves off. “There’s some bruising on her face as well, it looks to me like they got into it before he strangled her.”
“Alright, I’ll keep it in mind and I’ll call you when the results are ready,” the coroner says, turning to instruct his men to begin loading the body. “If her prints come up anywhere, they should be sent to you soon.”
“Thank you,” Hotch says to him, already digging his phone out of his pocket to call Morgan.
+++
When you get to the precinct and find out exactly where the unsub dropped this body, your heart plummets.
You don’t know if it was your dad’s preference to drop bodies outside of schools. All you know is that he did it often. If it wasn’t train tracks or behind a gas station, it was outside a school.
You have no clue why. There never seemed to be any rhyme or reason to it, just like this one. The others have been on back roads, dirt roads, or in the woods. Never outside an elementary school, next to the playground, for fuck’s sake.
Pictures slowly filter in as the detectives upload them. You, Reid, and Morgan stare at the laptop screen, three pictures of the woman’s body, all zoomed in.
You take a walk to refill your coffee, ignoring the way your knees feel shaky as you move.
You’re fine.
Just— First, a case where the daughter of a serial killer is kidnapped and her father willingly turns himself in to help find her, and now, a case where the unsub is strangling these women to death and dumps a body outside a school? You knew when you first got into this profession ten-odd years ago that you’d come across cases that bring up bad memories. It’s inevitable. You’ve long accepted the fact.
But two, back-to-back, with similarities that hit far too close to home… It’s putting a bad taste in your mouth, and you don’t know why.
It’s probably nothing.
It’s not like you can mention this to anyone. Maybe to Rossi, but you know what he’ll say. Either that you’re just feeling on edge with the similarities, or worse — he’ll tell you that you have to bring it up with Hotch.
And you are not doing that. Not over some irrational, sour taste in your mouth that you have no backing for. Reid said it himself, this isn’t a true copycat. It’s just another unsub who strangles women to death. Unfortunately, there are plenty of them out there.
It doesn’t mean anything.
You return to the conference room with fresh coffee and a somewhat calmer head (fake it ‘til you make it, right?). Morgan gives you a questioning look, but you ignore him.
Garcia’s voice comes through the speaker of the laptop as she tells Reid she’s just waiting for the identity to come through from the fingerprints before she can start digging.
Morgan’s phone starts ringing in his hand. This time he puts it on speaker. “What’ve you got, Hotch?”
“We think our unsub used something in addition to his hands this time,” Hotch says.
“The girl fought back,” Morgan replies absently, his eyes flicking over to the now-printed pictures from the scene.
“What are you thinking?” you ask in general, sliding one of the photos over.
“Not sure yet,” Hotch says. “The coroner just loaded the body, so hopefully in a few hours we’ll have some answers.”
“He might’ve used a wire of some sort,” Reid starts to ramble. “It’s common for—”
But you don’t hear him, your fingertips tracing the bruises in the picture. “He used a belt,” you say without meaning to, pressing your fingers into the picture, as if you can feel her neck.
“A belt?” Hotch inquires. “What makes you so certain?”
“The bruises,” you say quietly. Morgan won’t stop looking at you.
“The bruises are too faint to tell,” Hotch says tiredly. “The coroner—”
“It was just an idea,” you snap, pushing the picture away and glaring at the phone, hoping Hotch can feel it through the device. “It’s not like I was there to see him do it.”
Everyone goes quiet. You ignore Morgan’s watchful gaze and turn toward the whiteboard, deciding to review the other information.
Why did the unsub need help with this victim? Was he tired? Was he caught off guard? Was she stronger than the others he preyed on and he didn’t anticipate that?
You don’t hear the rest of Morgan and Hotch’s conversation as Morgan takes him off speaker after your little spat. Probably for the better.
You have got to come down from whatever edge you’re on before Hotch gets back here. You’re practically begging him to ask prying questions when you’re acting like this.
Thankfully, neither Morgan or Reid bother with asking if you’re okay.
Unfortunately, Rossi doesn’t get the same memo when he returns with everyone else.
“Anything standing out?” Rossi asks as he comes to stand next to you, facing the board. His hands are stuffed in his pockets, relaxed.
Your arms are crossed over your chest. “No.”
He chuckles. “Wanna take a walk?”
“No,” you repeat, narrowing your eyes at the board. “Why did he need to use a bel— something to help him this time? What was different?”
Rossi shrugs. “Maybe she fought him and he wasn’t expecting it. Maybe he’s getting sloppy.”
You hum.
Rossi lowers his voice as he leans toward you. “You’re sure it was a belt?”
You remember being twelve years old, watching the same bruises form on your mother’s throat after your father had stormed out and took the belt with him. He didn’t kill her, no. Just came close. Would have if you hadn’t walked in.
“Yes,” you say back, just as quiet. “Only a belt bruises like that.”
Rossi nods slowly. You know he wants to mention that the bruises are too faint to fully tell. You know he wants to mention other things. But he won’t.
Just behind you, standing with his back facing the both of you, Hotch listens. You both lowered your voices, but not low enough.
You have insight into this case that could be valuable, and you aren’t sharing, not with everyone. Only with Rossi. Why him?
Hotch isn’t jealous; he’s curious.
And he can’t do a damn thing about it, at least not right now.
#aaron hotchner#criminal minds#The Gambit#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#hotch x fem!reader#hotch x reader#hotch x you#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch fanfiction#aaron hotchner fanfic#hotch fanfic#criminal minds fanfiction#angst angst angst
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heavy —
pairing : classmate!riku x gn!reader
summary : a sleepy riku catches your eye during class, so you decide to help him catch up.
warning : fluff, VERY sleepy riku, idk he’s just really cute
a/n : something from my drafts as i take my break. ilysm riku pls come back. (he’s my nct ult).
queueing : heavy - the marías
— wc : 1.0k — not proof read —
it starts with riku nodding off again. his head dips lower and lower, dark lashes fluttering against his cheek as he fights a losing battle with sleep. you're sitting two rows behind him, and you can see the way his pen slowly slides out of his grip until it clatters to the desk, startling him awake for a moment. he blinks around in confusion, mumbles something under his breath, and then, just like that, he’s out again.
this isn’t a rare occurrence. maeda riku is known for being the sleepy one in class, always managing to snag a seat by the window so he can rest his head against the cool glass. at first, you’d thought it was just laziness or boredom, but over time, you’ve realized it’s just part of who he is. naturally laid-back, with a tendency to doze off whenever things get too quiet. and honestly, you find it kind of endearing. there’s something almost peaceful about the way he naps, like he’s perfectly content in his own little world.
still, you can’t help but feel a little bad for him when it means he misses parts of the lecture. the teacher’s voice drones on, oblivious to riku’s half-conscious state, and when the class finally ends, riku jerks awake with a sharp inhale, looking around as if trying to piece together where he is. his notebook is mostly blank except for a few messy scribbles at the top of the page.
as everyone files out of the classroom, you linger by your desk, watching him. he’s rubbing his eyes now, yawning so wide it makes your jaw ache in sympathy. before you can talk yourself out of it, you grab your notes and walk over to him.
"hey," you say softly, not wanting to startle him. he looks up, eyes a little glassy from sleep. up close, you notice the faint crease on his cheek where he must’ve leaned against his arm.
"oh, hey," he says, voice scratchy. "did class end already?"
"yeah," you reply, holding out your notes. "i thought you might need these. you seemed pretty tired."
his eyes widen slightly as he looks at the papers in your hand. "oh, uh, thanks. but you don’t have to—"
"i want to," you interrupt, smiling a little. "besides, it’s not a big deal. i’m already caught up, so it’s just copying for you."
riku hesitates, but eventually, he takes the notes from you with a small, grateful smile. "thanks. really. i’ll get them back to you tomorrow."
"no rush," you say, shrugging. "if you need help with anything, just let me know."
and that’s how it starts.
the next day, riku returns your notes, meticulously copied onto his own paper. you’re a little surprised by how neat his handwriting is, given how messy it looked when he tried to write during class. he thanks you again, and you tell him it’s no problem. but when he starts nodding off halfway through the next lecture, you pass him a quick note: want me to explain this later?
he glances back at you, a bit sheepish, and nods before dozing off after an attempt of staying awake. after school, you sit together in the library, going over the parts he missed. riku listens intently, occasionally asking questions or scribbling down notes. he’s quieter than you expected, but there’s something calming about it… like he’s genuinely absorbing everything you’re saying.
"you’re a good teacher," he says at one point, looking up from his notebook with a faint smile.
"and you’re a good student," you reply, grinning. "when you’re not asleep, that is."
his ears turn pink, and he laughs softly. "yeah, sorry about that. i’m just... a sleepy person, i guess."
"it’s fine," you say, shrugging. "it’s actually kind of cute."
his blush deepens, and he looks away, pretending to focus on his notes. "thanks... i think."
from then on, it becomes a routine. whenever riku dozes off in class, you’re there to fill in the gaps. sometimes it’s as simple as handing him your notes; other times, you’ll sit together after school, going over the material until he feels confident enough to handle it on his own. he’s always polite, always grateful, and you can’t help but feel a little proud when you see his grades slowly improving.
but it’s not just about academics. as the weeks go by, you start to learn more about riku. he loves music, often humming under his breath when he thinks no one’s listening. he has a dry sense of humor that catches you off guard, making you laugh at the most unexpected moments. and he’s surprisingly thoughtful. once, he brought you a coffee after noticing you seemed tired, mumbling something about how it’s only fair since you’ve helped him so much.
"you didn’t have to do that," you tell him, touched by the gesture.
"yeah, but i wanted to," he says, echoing your own words from that first day. his smile is small but genuine, and it makes your chest feel warm.
one afternoon, as you’re sitting together in the library, riku glances at you and says, "you know, i’ve never really had someone look out for me like this before."
"what do you mean?" you ask, tilting your head.
he shrugs, fiddling with the corner of his notebook. "i guess i’ve always been the type to just... figure things out on my own. it’s nice, though. having someone to rely on."
you’re not sure what to say to that, so you just smile and reply, "well, you can rely on me anytime."
his eyes soften, and for a moment, you’re both quiet, the sounds of the library fading into the background. it’s a simple moment, but it feels significant… like something unspoken has shifted between you.
from then on, your study sessions start to feel less like a chore and more like an excuse to spend time together. riku still struggles with staying awake in class, but now he’ll catch your eye and give you a small, apologetic smile, as if to say, sorry, i’ll make it up later. and he always does.
one day, as you’re packing up your things, riku clears his throat and says, "hey, do you want to grab some food or something? you’ve been helping me so much, and i feel like i owe you."
"you don’t owe me anything," you say, smiling. "but i’d love to."
he grins, looking both relieved and a little nervous. "cool. there’s this place nearby that has really good ramen."
"sounds perfect," you reply, and for the first time, you see him look truly awake, bright-eyed and excited, like he’s finally found something that energizes him.
as you walk together, talking about everything and nothing, you realize that helping riku wasn’t just about academics. it was about connection, about seeing someone who needed support and offering it without expecting anything in return. and in the process, you’ve found something unexpected. a friendship that feels as natural as breathing, and maybe, just maybe, the beginning of something more.
#kaiyunsim#kpop x reader#kpop fluff#kpop x gn reader#kpop#nct#nct wish#nct x gn reader#nct x reader#nct wish x reader#nct wish x gn reader#nct wish fluff#riku#riku x reader#riku x gn reader#maeda riku#maeda riku x reader#riku fluff#maeda riku x gn reader#maeda riku fluff#nct riku#nct riku fluff#nct riku x reader#nct wish riku#nct wish riku x reader
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NOWHERE GIRL
PART FOURTEEN
kang sae-byeok x fem!reader
synopsis: restless and filled with conflicted emotions, you and sae-byeok take a midnight stroll.
wc. 2.1k
warnings: none | authors note: thank blood orange for this late post if it wasn’t for them there would’ve been no post till tuesday i swearrrr.
(nowhere girl masterlist)
For the past few hours, you kept tousling in bed. The intense heat waves mixed with your never ending thoughts of Sae-byeok’s action from earlier today were the reason for your restlessness.
The more you thought about what Sae-byeok did a few hours ago, the more the memory felt like it came from an alternate reality. When she hugged you back in March, you thought that’d be the most effort she’d put towards being kind to you. You know that she’d only put that much effort towards giving affection to people she’s known and grown to trust over a long period of time, like Ji-yeong and of course Cheol.
You never expect her to engulf you in any more embraces or ask you to share your deepest secrets. But yesterday it almost seemed like she tried to do…something.
It bothers you that everywhere you turn you are face to face with the darkness. For once, you want to spring back up from the bed and adventure on into the night. But you are a woman, and walking alone in the night as a woman is a dangerous mix. You recklessly then think of Sae-byeok again. It’s common knowledge that she’s a true night owl, a fearless one at that.
Your curiosity is swallowing you whole and you bite your lower lip to prevent yourself from reaching for your phone and look for Sae-byeok’s contact. But you want to know so badly if she’ll continue her strange behavior if you two were to meet tonight. It’s an insane thought—Sae-byeok more than anyone should rest her eyes.
After a prolonged silent battle, you come to the agreement that if she doesn’t reply in five minutes then you will go downstairs and take some melatonin gummies to force your mind to shut off and sleep.
The brightness of your phone screen makes your face scrunch up. You just text a quick and simple ‘Hey, are you up?’, shut your phone and slam your face into your pillow. In a flash, regret kills your curiosity.
In no instance did you expect to hear an immediate ring come from your device. You lift your head up and stare quizzically at your phone which was softly illuminated face down on the mattress.
‘Yeah. Is everything alright?’ Sae-byeok’s text message reads. You stare at the text bubble in disbelief before typing out, ‘I can’t sleep.’ Instantly, it shows that she read the message but wasn’t typing anything. You conclude that she is calling it a night. After five minutes with zero replies from her, you groggily roll off of bed and head to your small kitchen cupboard to look for the melatonin bottle.
The phone tings again. ‘Me too. Want to walk around?’ she texts followed by another that says, ‘I left the apartment an hour ago so I’m near the bakery.’
After a few back and forth texting, she states that she’ll be in front of your doorstep in ten minutes so you slam the cupboard shut and scramble to assemble an outfit.
By the time you threw on a last minute outfit change, you hear soft knocking on the door. You quickly slip on your most beaten shoes without knowing as it was still dark in your apartment then open up the door.
Sae-byeok stands there wearing a loose fitted shirt, battered down jeans, and her short hair tied back. Her unapproachable tense posture eases once she takes a good look at your face. You appear less visibly distraught than earlier.
“Hey.” you greet breathily. “Do you have any place in mind or is this going to be a mindless stroll?”
“The park?” she suggests and you silently agree. With a curt nod she leads the way to the park.
At first, neither of you spoke and let the crisp midnight breeze do the talking as it was whistling all around. It was hard to pinpoint the best time to speak. After the running emotions exchanged earlier, a mutually strange sensation caused high tension between you both.
You try flickering your eyes at and away from Sae-byeok’s profile, trying to read her stone cold eyes and her firmly pressed lips. It never works. At some point during the walk, she caught you staring making you both look away after sharing this awkward fleeting glance.
Soon after, Sae-byeok clears her throat making your stomach do backflips.
“How’s your project going?” she asks.
“Good.” you respond. “Well—I barely started since I only just got your permission earlier but I did most of the outline. This last project is a big one so I have to really nail it.”
“You said that for the last one too.”
“Yeah.” you snort. “My professor is going to recommend the best to his friend who’s running a scholarship to study abroad in Italy this summer.”
Sae-byeok looks at you. “You’re going to, Italy?”
“If I win.”
“And you’re using—my face to try and win?”
You nod. “Yeah, isn’t that cool?”
She lowers her head to survey her shoes. She thinks you’re like the wind. You’re everywhere but also nowhere. You always have places to be and don’t stay in a singular place too long. For a moment, she forgot that people come and go. She can’t believe that she thought you’d be one who stays, stupidly enough.
“I guess not.” you grumble at her lack of response.
“It is. That was just sudden information you gave me.” she explains coolly. “But I’m letting you know now, I’m pretty unlucky.”
“I don’t care about the prize.” you confess bluntly. “I only said I have to nail it because I’m drawing you.”
Her stomach starts feeling warm after your confessional. It was getting harder for her to focus on her feet now.
“You’re a good person.”
Your ears perk up at her sudden confession. “What?”
“I don’t understand why your parents did this to you when you’re a good person.” she mutters plainly.
“Because I go against their religious beliefs.”
“Still…” she trails off and sighs. She thinks about the warm and fuzzy sensation she is feeling again. “How did you know?” she asks minutes later after careful thinking.
You were about to laugh but you saw the glint of pure curiosity in her eyes so you swallow it down and go back in time to come up with the best conclusion.
By the time you had a response to give, you two have made it to the park. Sae-byeok leads you to a park bench right in front of the lazy lake that looks like it’s made of black ink due to the night sky reflecting off of the water.
Once you two sat down, she briefly throws you an inquisitive look you didn’t catch because you were gathering your thoughts.
“I—I just knew.” you exhale, your cheeks start to burn. “Whenever my friends got excited over a guy they found attractive, I pretended to share the same excitement but…I felt nothing. And when they tired to make a move on me I would always feel apprehensive. At first I thought it was me, that I haven’t yet found a guy that I liked.”
Sae-byeok slowly nods. Her forehead creases in frustration, battling against herself to ask you what she is dying to know. Ultimately, she couldn’t bite back her tongue.
“And…have you ever liked a girl?”
Her question made your face turn scarlet. You exchange another fleeting moment of eye contact before you shift your eyes to stare at the lake.
“My best friend from high school.” you reply. “I think she’s engaged now but I’m not sure. We stopped talking after graduation.”
She carefully observes the proximity of your pinkies and found it fascinating that if she moved her pinky finger ever so slightly it would touch yours.
“Have you ever liked someone?” you ask.
She curls her hands to a fist and tucks them inside the pockets of her jacket. “No.” she answers plainly making you raise a brow. “I can’t focus on anyone else like that until I rescue my mom. I don’t have the time for it.”
You blink. “Your—Your mom?”
“Shit. I never told you that did I?” she says with a low dry chuckle. “Yeah, she’s alive. And I’m going to rescue her.”
“But why do you feel like you don’t have time for it?”
“It could distract me.” she deadpans. “And if let’s say I did, they could be in potential danger.”
You lean back in the bench and scoff in disbelief. “I think that’s bullshit.” you mutter.
“What did you say?” she bores eyes into your skull.
You look right into them and your pupils flare. “That’s bullshit. I’m more than certain that you will reunite with your mom but you can’t use that as an excuse not to find love.”
“Love?” Sae-byeok repeats mockingly. “Since when are we talking about love?”
“You seriously think you aren’t capable of it?”
“No!” she states rather loudly. Your face goes blank at her unexpected outburst. “You know me well enough to know that I would be a terrible partner!”
“You do have your moments,” you start off, grimacing. “but I also know you’re protective and you do care—in your own special way. Besides, love isn’t just about sharing each others feelings and physical intimacy—“
“Like you would know.”
“It’s knowing you’re comfortable enough to be yourself with them without having to ask permission to be yourself.” you finish, hotly.
For the first time, you see Sae-byeok’s cheeks redden as she silently glares at the twinkling lake. The intensity in your eyes die down leaving them with a glint of shame for making Sae-byeok upset.
These next two weeks you’re going to be drowning in work as there are only two weeks of school left before break. That means you’ll see less of her and tonight was one of the only night you had to really get to get close to her but you blew it. This time it was your fault.
“I don’t want to fight.” you sigh. “Let’s just end it here…It’s getting way too late anyways.”
You were ready to get off the bench when you felt Sae-byeok’s hands clasp around your arm, tugging you to prevent you from moving. Her cold fingers slide from your arm down your hands, leaving goosebumps in her trail.
“Not yet.” is all she says once her hands stop by your wrist. You eye her carefully, watching her eyes flicker back and forth from the lake to her hand that was touching yours. Was she trying to hold your hand?
You didn’t fight it off, you didn’t dare to open your mouth instead you lean back in the bench. Your fingers begin to twitch while you wondered how her cold hands will feel against your warm ones.
So, you had to gaze away as your hands wriggled their way up to Sae-byeok’s hands. At first, every bone in her body became stiff until you boldly enclasp your fingers around her hand.
You could heart your heart beat right next to your ears at this point, deathly afraid to get rejected. Your fear came true when Sae-byeok let go—your breathing faltered like every muscle in your being. It was time to bury your head in the sand at the utter embarrassment of your actions.
In a blink of an eye, you smelled her faint cologne scent and her cheeks rubbing up against yours.
“Did you really think I would do that to you, idiot?” you hear her murmur in the shell of your ear.
It was when she spoke when you realized what position you guys were currently in. Sae-byeok was hugging again for the first time in two months.
You don’t say anything, you only pull her tighter. But you hope she doesn’t feel your intense heart thumping against hers.
Time was a construct until you two mutually decided to break off the tender embrace. However, it left you both not knowing what to do next. Sae-byeok starts rubbing the nape of her neck while you clear your throat, both of you frantically start looking around everywhere but each other.
Your eyes lands on the orange hues rising from the horizon perfectly aligning with the lake. “What time is it?” you mumble.
“Fuck. It’s six-thirty.” Sae-byeok says after checking her phone. “I have to go before Cheol wakes up.”
“And I have class in a few…” you trail off.
“We should start running back.”
You throw her a look. “I’d rather leisurely stroll late to class.���
🏷️: @monroesturnns @knfthxv @jumpedthenfell-13 @peelover25 @karli6 @kissedberries @bitchybananaflower @laurenkenss @saebyeokbliss @everly-summers-solace @we1rdth0ughts
#kang sae byeok#kang sae byeok x reader#squid game#squid game fanfic#fanfic#kang sae byeok squid game#kang sae byeok x fem!reader#wlw#wlw fanfic#kang saebyeok#kang saebyeok x reader#sae byeok#saebyeok#squid game x reader
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Desperate Measures — Rafe Cameron 02
Series Masterlist
Warnings: mature language, [talks of ] violence, homicide, sexual language, mental illness
“Hello Y/N.”
The robotic tone of the voice makes you brows furrowed. You pull the phone from your ear, looking down at the screen. The word “UNKNOWN” staring back at you.
“I’m sorry, who’s this?”
“She was a cancer, you know that right?”
You frown at the lack of answer. You usually don’t answer phone calls with no caller ID and now you were being reminded why. “What?”
“I had to cut her out. For you.” The voice continues. “She was trying to hurt you and I couldn’t let that happen.”
Shooting upright in your bed, you rush to flick the lamp on your bedside table on. The shaking thats taken over your fingers almost makes it impossible.
“You’re…you’re the killer. You did that, you—”
“Yes, for you.” It soothes. You don’t want to give it any type of labels. Mostly because you don’t see whoever it as human. The things that were done to Stella’s body couldn’t have been the work of a human being.
Goosebumps start to appear on your arms; you don’t know whether to blame the night air coming in from your window or the fact this…thing was telling you that you were the reason a murder was committed.
You scoff. “For me? You killed my best friend—”
“Don’t!” The demand is bellowed and you can’t help but to flinch; it’s almost like you can’t feel the sharp breath against the skin of your ear. “Do not fucking call her that okay? She was not your best friend, she didn’t deserve to be called your best friend. She was slut who took advantage of you and your kindness. She basically fucking spit in your face.”
“What are you talking about?”
“That bitch was not your friend. She betrayed you in the worst way possible and had the nerve to laugh about it behind your back. And I couldn’t…I couldn’t just let her get away with it y/n." It rants on angrily. "I had to do it, show her that there are consequences to hurting you. That’s why I gutted her the way that I did. It was for you. It’s all for you, it’s always been for you!”
They were insane, It was insane. You and Stella were no where near the perfect pair, but taking advantage of you was something she was not capable of. Not her. And it was obvious to you that this psycho was either playing mind games or truly thought they were doing you a favor by killing her.
You shake your head as if it can see you. “I didn’t ask you do that, I didn’t ask you to kill my best friend I would never—.”
Just like before, it barely allows you to get a word out. “Of course you wouldn’t baby, that’s just who you are.” It sighs. “Too nice and naive for your own good. It’s why I knew I had to take matters into my own hands. All for you.”
“Once again I did not ask you to do that you fucking psycho! All that shit you’re spewing about Stella hurting me, what do you think killing my best friend did to me?”
The too-big shirt your in falls off your shoulder as you stand up from your bed. Your arms wrap tight around yourself, your French-tip nails digging into the fabric of the tee. You couldn’t believe it. That this nut-job had convinced themself that killing Stella was some kind of crime of passion on your behalf.
“I can not sleep because of you, I am having nightmares because of you. I can’t even leave my dorm because of you!” You shriek, tears fall down your warm cheeks as you start to pace across the floor. “You didn’t help me, you fucking ruined my life!”
You’re so deep into your rant that you don’t clock how loud and uneven the breathing on the other side of the phone has gotten.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Because I’m naive right? What, you want some type of thank you?” You snarl.
“Yes!” It barks back just as loud, making you flinch. “And I deserve one because if it wasn’t for me, that whore would still be fucking your boyfriend behind your back while everyone else laughed at you!”
“What?”
The laugh—the cackling that comes after is nothing but cruel. Your jaw goes slack and you hate it but your lip starts to quiver. As strange as it sounds, you didn’t feel pathetic like you do now. The tears that were shed earlier were of anger and rage aimed at this thing and what they were doing to you. But now, as it laughs in what you can imagine is the same manner “everyone” was said to be laughing at you in.
But…why? Why are so quick to contemplate the true motive behind Stella’s murder, but even quicker to believe that she was sleeping with Jesse of all people.
She’d never do that to you. Jesse would never do that to you. Right?
“You—you’re lying.” You sniffle, wiping a quick trembling hand under your nostrils. “She wouldn’t do that, Jesse wouldn’t—”
“Lola you’re not stupid.” It censures. “You’re a smart girl. Read between the goddamn lines and face the truth. They were screwing each other behind your back for months.”
“N—no.”
“No?” It seethes. “Do you wanna know who Stella thought I was before I slit her throat? Do you wanna know who she thought she was begging to chase her when I cornered her that night? Your prick of a boyfriend.”
Your breathing has gotten just as heavy, it’s sick how in sync you are with It.
“As a matter of fact, before I got to her, she was on her way to be dicked down by him. How crazy is that right?”
“I—”
“So yes, Lola. I expect a fucking thank you for making sure that slut didn’t get one last screw in with your boyfriend before she died. I got that bitch out of your life, I made sure she didn’t get away with betraying you! Me! So before you shed anymore tears over that “friend” of yours, watch this.”
The dial sound is quickly followed by the ding! of your phone.
Slowly pulling the phone from your ear, you find that a video was sent from a blocked number.
You take a shaky seat on your plush comforter before hesitantly clicking on the white arrow representing the play button. And within seconds familiar moans fill your bedroom.
Your heart drops.
It’s her and him. Not a piece of clothing on either of their bodies as they go at it in what looks to be the football team’s weight room. The same arms that were wrapped around you the other day, are clutched tightly around her sweaty body. The same hand that held yours when she wanted calm your nerves as you entered your first college party during freshman year, is in his hair while the other is right over his heart.
The tightness in your chest becomes almost unbearable and you find yourself trying to physically rub it out as if it’s a possible remedy.
author’s note: i know this is very very short, but that’s intentional!
if you want to be added to the taglist pls let me know!
taglist: @zya8tracks @rafecameronsfavourite @sereneera @akisesgf @ababycake
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A Masked Promise
Ch. 37
Dick Grayson (Nightwing) x Reader
The infirmary felt suffocating. Not because of the sterile scent or the quiet hum of the machines, but because of him. Because Dick hadn’t moved from your bedside since you woke up, hadn’t let go of you, hadn’t even thought to take care of himself.
The dark circles under his eyes were deeper now, his exhaustion evident in every slow blink, every sluggish movement. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days—like the weight of the world had settled onto his shoulders and refused to let go, like Atlas doomed to carry the heavens without rest, his burden as endless as his guilt.
“Gray…” you murmured, your voice still rough from disuse. Your fingers brushed over the back of his hand, drawing his attention. “You need to get some sleep.”
He scoffed lightly, shaking his head as if that was the most ridiculous thing you could have suggested. “I’m fine.”
“You look like hell,” you countered, watching as his lips pressed into a thin line. “And this bed sucks.” You shifted against the stiff mattress, wincing slightly to sell your point. “I feel gross. I need a shower.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, suspicion flickering across his face. “You’re still weak.”
“I’ll be fine.”
His response was immediate, firm. “You’re not walking.”
Before you could protest, he was already moving, arms sliding under you with ease. Your breath hitched as he lifted you as if you weighed nothing, his warmth immediately surrounding you.
“Gray—”
“I said you’re not walking,” he murmured, voice unwavering.
You exhaled, knowing better than to argue with him when he was like this. Instead, you leaned your head against his shoulder, letting him carry you through the hallways to his quarters—the same place you’d been staying with him. The tension in his body was palpable, his grip on you firm but gentle, like he was afraid you’d slip away again.
You tried to lighten the mood. “So… are you planning to carry me into the shower too?”
His gaze flicked down to you, unimpressed. "I'm still mad at you, you know that, right?"
Inside his quarters, he set you down carefully on the edge of the bed, hovering like a worried mother hen as you pushed yourself up. The moment you were steady, he hesitated, as if torn between giving you space and staying close. You squeezed his arm before making your way to the bathroom, letting him know you were okay.
The warm water helped wash away the remnants of blood, battle, the grime, the sweat, the exhaustion clinging to your skin. By the time you stepped out, towel-drying your hair, you felt marginally better. You slipped into one of his shirts—soft, oversized, smelling like him—and returned to the bedroom to find him sitting on the bed, a fresh bottle in his hands.
You frowned. “Seriously?”
His grip tightened slightly around the bottle, but he didn’t meet your eyes. “Just one.”
“No,” you said firmly, walking over and plucking it from his hands before he could argue. “You need sleep, not this.”
His jaw tensed, but he didn’t resist as you set the bottle aside and nudged him toward the pillows. He let out a heavy breath, rubbing a hand over his face before finally relenting, settling into bed. You climbed in beside him, shifting closer until your bodies aligned, your head tucked under his chin.
The moment you did, his arms locked around you, pulling you against him as if afraid you’d disappear. His face pressed into your hair, his breathing slow but uneven, his hold unyielding. You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the warmth of him, his presence, his scent.
“Sleep,” you murmured against his chest.
He tensed slightly, then exhaled, his fingers tracing slow patterns against your back. “I can’t.”
You pulled back slightly to look up at him. His gaze was distant, haunted.
“Every time I close my eyes,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper, “I see it. You died. The way your eyes—” His breath hitched, and he shook his head, swallowing hard. “I lost you.”
His voice was so raw, so broken, that it cracked something inside you. Without hesitation, you shifted, moving above him, gently guiding his head against your chest, your arms wrapping around him as he had done for you before. He didn’t resist—just let himself sink into you, his body finally releasing some of the tension it had been holding. The steady rhythm of your heartbeat against his ear seemed to soothe him, grounding him in something real, something alive.
Your fingers threaded through his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp. “I was scared too,” you admitted softly. “Watching you fight Slade, knowing there was nothing I could do… I couldn’t imagine a world without you, Gray. Without Richard Grayson. Without Nightwing.”
His arms tightened around your waist.
“I’m expendable,” you continued, your voice steady but gentle. “But you’re not. More lives would have been lost if—”
“Stop.” His voice was muffled against you, but firm. He shifted, burrowing further against you, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re not expendable. You’re—” He exhaled shakily. “I can’t imagine a world without you either.”
The room was quiet after that, save for the steady rhythm of your breathing. You continued running your fingers through his hair, grounding both of you in the moment. His body slowly relaxed beneath you, exhaustion creeping in.
And then, as if the thought had been weighing on you all night, you spoke. “I’m ready.”
A low hum vibrated against your skin as he shifted slightly, not quite lifting his head. “Mmm?”
“To go all the way,” you clarified. "You know...Sex."
That got his attention. He pulled back just enough to squint up at you, sleep-heavy but alert. “You’re only saying that because you’re drained right now.”
You rolled your eyes. “No, I’m saying that because I almost died.” He winced. “And it put things into perspective.”
His gaze softened, his fingers brushing slow, aimless patterns over your ribs. “I get that,” he murmured, voice thick with exhaustion. “And believe me, I feel the same. But I don’t want you making this choice because of fear.”
“It’s not fear,” you insisted. “It’s clarity.”
He hummed again, skeptical but not dismissive. His fingers trailed just beneath the hem of his shirt draped over you, warm against your skin. “Still… sleep on it,” he said, voice softer now, heavier. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
You sighed, about to argue again, but he silenced you with a kiss—first to your forehead, then your nose, then finally, your lips. It was soft, lingering, filled with quiet understanding.
“Sleep,” he murmured against you, and this time, it was an order.
He shifted, tucking himself against you once more, his head beneath your chin, his arms holding you close.
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I'll just say, I may be here posting about Mounting Spring, asks etc... But I'm cooking... I'm cooking something everyone asked me for lol
“I like this! This 3D flower pattern is so on trend right now.”
Levi’s eyes were glued to the screen as a freshly painted nail was shown up close.
“Oh, hi! Thank you,” her voice popped up again, and like an animal in pure confusion, he tilted his head to the side.
What are those things popping up? He was completely lost.
“Isn’t it too late for coffee?” she read aloud before grabbing her cup and taking a sip from the straw. “There’s no such thing as too much black or too late for coffee. Plus, it’s girls’ night! What’s a girls’ night without iced coffee or a glass of wine?”
This feels wrong now, Levi thought, taking a sip of his own drink, lazily sprawled on his bed. But when she started showing off her pajamas, that’s when he lost it.
Holy shit... it’s the little shorts doing it for me.
“This is why kids these days have their eyes glued to this shit,” he muttered, almost offended— as if his own mouth wasn’t slightly open and his eyes weren’t stuck to the screen as she vibed to the song playing in the background.
“Have you ever tried… this one?” She winked at the camera, arm in the air, hips moving in a way that Levi quickly guessed was meant to simulate riding. Over the kitchen island.
…I’m definitely not better than a 12-year-old boy.
The chat flooded with messages about how much they loved the song.
Whose song is this?
“Oh! I love that! Ugh, my heart is divided, I want all of them to win! Birds of a Feather is so good, but Hot to Go?” she gushed, listing more names Levi didn’t recognize.
Who are those?
“And the dance?”
What trend? What song? What dance?
Levi felt lost. Completely lost.
“Oh, thank you for the donation! Here, a heart for you!”
She pressed two fingers together in the shape of a heart. Levi tilted his head again, frowning.
How the hell is that a heart?
But before he could keep questioning his entire existence—or, perhaps, his age—her expression shifted. The usual bright smile faded as she read something from the chat.
“Look, if you’ve got a problem with me, just keep scrolling, buddy. Can an admin ban him from the stream, please?”
That made Levi do the exact opposite. He scrolled up through the rapidly moving chat until he found the comment in question. Some idiot had said she owed it to him if something happened because of what she was wearing and doing on screen.
“What’s your fucking problem, dude?” Levi whispered, clicking his tongue. “If a woman has never even touched you, don’t say it so loudly.”
His fingers moved on their own, pressing the guy’s username, looking for a way to reply—until he suddenly let the phone drop onto his chest and stared at the ceiling.
“I need to calm down,” he muttered. Being in this live stream was already too much for him. Getting into an online argument was not the way to go.
How long had he been watching? He wasn’t sure. But in that time, he’d learned that ASMR meant tapping on objects with freshly done nails and whispering, that people voted on live which designs she should do next, and… a whole lot more.
“Say you can’t sleep, baby, I know. That’s me, espresso…”
She sang along to the music, and he felt hypnotized.
“…Did I just spend two hours of my life on this?”
The “Love ya!” came through the speakers as she blew a final kiss before ending the live.
“For fuck’s sake…” Levi muttered, almost offended. “You can’t be that stupidly cute.”
Maybe pop songs were popular for a reason. Maybe that’s why Levi never downloaded any apps on his phone or used it for anything beyond strictly necessary texts. Because explain to him why the hell he was humming at work.
“Since when do you know Sabrina Carpenter?”
Hange appeared out of nowhere, catching him off guard.
Levi had to come up with an excuse. Fast.
“What? Is it illegal for me to know new songs?”
“No…” Hange dragged the word out, squinting at him in suspicion. “But since when do you?”
“Give me a break. I’m not that old. I can get to know new artists,” he brushed it off while brewing himself a tea.
Hange let it slide, but their mind was already working, scheming. They kept talking, mostly about work. But as Levi finished his tea and was ready to leave, Hange casually dropped:
“Espresso?”
Levi frowned. “What?”
Hange repeated the question immediately, as if he hadn’t heard them the first time. But of course, he had.
“Fuck no. You know I hate coffee. Black tea,” he grumbled.
To his shock, Hange chuckled, shaking their head, biting their lip as they held back a knowing smile.
“Aww, Shortie… don’t give yourself away.”
“Huh?”
“Espresso. That’s the song you were humming.” Their grin widened. “I’m starting to think you’re not just listening to new artists—you’re watching new people.”
Levi stiffened.
And for the first time, he couldn’t hide the subtle embarrassed blush creeping up his face.
“Get off my ass,” he muttered, already walking away.
But Hange wasn’t done.
“And I think it might be Erwin’s cute little influencer friend!”
I won't say anything else, let the readers figure it out.
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