#<- tag until i figure something out that sounds nicer

[loliwrites]

The One You Need | six

🎶 I spent most my life thinkin’ love was out of reach, so maybe just this once, you could be the one I need, if you let me be the one you need🎶

pairing: neighbor!joel miller x f!reader  rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni  summary: when you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at an arm’s length, your neighbor Joel finds his way into your life. warnings/tags: au, neighbor joel, age gap [reader is late 20s/early 30s, Joel is late 40s], hyper-independent reader, angst, first real date, discussion of dysfunctional parental relationships, turbulent sibling relationship, joel makes reader cry [not in a mean way], cuddling, terms of endearment [sweetheart, babygirl], female reader, no physical description, protective!joel, soft!joel, dare i say ei!joel, no use of y/n. word count: 6.2k series masterlist | part five a/n: it’s about time, huh? (the last part was released about 10 months ago 💀 but i’m back hunni buns. and back to remembering why i love sweet, emotionally intelligent joel

Make it hurt.

Make it hurt.

The words were seared into Joel’s brain. He even saw them etched into his eyelids when he closed his eyes. If only you’d known that the man standing in the bathroom doorway, watching you get ready, had a mind reeling with worry. Instead you, leaning over the sink, carefully applying eyeliner, snuck a glance at him through the mirror and only recognized how absolutely gorgeous he was.

He’d gotten back into his jeans and green flannel, much to your dismay for the want of his bare chest, broad shoulders, and soft stomach. His arms were folded over that now covered chest, shoulder leaning against the jamb, one foot crossed over the other. Despite you having been getting ready for the better part of an hour now, it hardly looked like his patience was waning. All too willing to have nothing more than your presence for as long as you’d have him. Even when you traded in your eyeliner for the tube of mascara and pulled the firm-bristled brush over your lashes, you heard him take a deep breath but it didn’t sound like an argument to the time you were taking to doll up. After all, it was the first time Joel would see you in any amount of makeup designated for him. You chose to forget the night he’d swooped up on your porch, handgun in his waistband, and shooed your pushy date away. Though that night you hadn’t gotten made up for him.

Face painted and ready to get changed, you waltzed past him in the threshold, keen to the fact that he spun slowly to keep you in his eyeline. Even took a couple steps in the direction of your bedroom before you paused and pressed a hand to his chest, insisting he go on and wait in the living room for you. You hadn’t needed help getting dressed since you were a kid. And it wasn’t like you were getting completely dressed up. Joel was in a flannel and jeans. It was all you needed to know he wasn’t taking you to some Michelin rated restaurant. You ventured to guess he’d take you somewhere a tad nicer than a diner, where food that would stick to your bones was served. So you emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later and pulled the door shut behind you until it clicked back on itself. His boots created soft thuds on the hardwood floor where he paced, waiting, anticipating.

All that stopped when you came into view.

You stood, arms held out to the side to show off the long, simple dress you’d thrown on. Something probably better suited for a day of peak summer day-drinking instead of a dinner date night nearing autumn. But you looked up into Joel’s eyes, seeing if you could figure out what he was thinking before he said it, and it wasn’t hard to do so. It was all written on his face. The way those dark brown eyes darted away from your face and down to the dress and the way the fabric flowed around your legs; a slit in the cotton skirt of it showing just the smallest hint and promise of the skin beneath. His jaw hung slack, forgetting to maintain whatever class or politeness he may’ve felt was deserved. And then all he did was shake his head, eyebrows raised, bouncing a curl loose over his forehead. 

“Good?”

“You look…” he shook his head again, advancing upon you with outstretched arms that eventually found purchase at your waist. Fingers dug firmly into it, squeezing. “You look great… beautiful,”

Though you could tell that’s what he thought, hearing him say the word made your heart jump into your throat. He kept ogling, staring, and now up close. Heat rose in your cheeks and you clutched your hands over his biceps gently, urging him back. “Should we get going?”

He nodded and took your cue. A few quick steps toward your front door and he was pulling it open with a protective and secure hand on your lower back as you passed by. It all started to feel very… adolescent. Like he’d picked you up from home, all nerves and anxiety. Like you hadn’t already seen each other naked a handful of times. Like he hadn’t already been informed of the way you seemed to get a little more turned on when he choked you. The way he opened the front door, and then stood by your side, hand still on your back when you descended the porch steps. How you crossed the street together like that, smiling and talking to each other. You weren’t sure if he noticed but you sure did. Noticed that Mrs. Cole was knitting on her front porch when you passed by, and how she stood from that rocking chair and made for the house as quickly as her old bones could take her, calling for her husband. Or the way Kelly… poor Kelly… paused her progress on helping her kid out of his booster seat in the car and stared, having to witness the man she wasn’t a match for, parade down the street with the new neighbor who seemed to be.

That one made you bow your head, trying to avoid not only her gaze, but Joel’s as well. Had your initial resistance to men and relationships been a game? One that the very core of his primal being couldn’t help but want to chase? Had you trapped him here in a false promise that if he caught you and won, there’d be a prize at the end? There was a very obvious and adult way of figuring that out. You could ask him. Talk it out and see what was there. But that would require you to make it real. To say that you were noticing something between you two, and if he noticed that too, which he surely would after you’d brought it up. So you swallowed it and smiled graciously to him as he pulled open the passenger side door of his truck and helped you up into it.

Once you were settled, he closed the door and circled the truck to his side, wasting no time in getting in the driver’s seat and starting the engine. The truck was in gear in no time, and right as he started off down the street, through the neighborhood, past all the nosy, small-town neighbors, he reached over and placed his hand on your thigh. Wrapping his fingers around it and giving a soft squeeze. You could feel his eyes shifting to you. Back and forth from the road to you; inspecting. And fearing that a conversation you wanted to delay would arise, you kept your gaze out the window. Downtown Austin was coming into view but Joel wasn’t exactly taking the route to get you to it.

“Slide on over here,”

Finally, you looked at him. He was already looking back at the road, but his hand on your thigh tightened and pulled, urging you closer to him. Closer meant he wouldn’t have as good of a view of your face, so you obliged. Moved yourself across the bench and settled in next to him, where his arm released your thigh and migrated up around your shoulders. His hand hung limp just over you.

“Nervous?” He asked and shook you gently. And being met with a questioning expression, he pressed a smile. “You’re kinda quiet,”

“Just thinking,”

“Uh oh,”

You nudged into his side, earning a more authentic smile and even a little chuckle. Foregoing focus on driving for a split second, he pressed his lips against your temple. “Wanna talk ‘bout it?”

A quick shake of the head was all you were hoping to have to do to dismiss the topic. Tell him? About how it was scaring the hell out of you that despite your best efforts and consciousness, you were somehow becoming dependent on him. Absolutely not.

Joel took a deep breath. He’d caught the shake of your head from the corner of his eye, and with your lack of clarification, his brain – which had already been on a witch hunt of its own – picked back up where it had left off. Only now you weren’t in front of the mirror with things that could be turned into eye weapons. You were just here. Next to him. Curled beneath his arm. And he couldn’t get this convoluted duality to quiet down. The one where part of it was riddled with this gentle caring and acceptance of what this was, and the other part that resulted in him finding his handprint on more than one spot on your body.

“I’ve been thinkin’ too, and I…”

He leaned forward in his seat, glancing out the side view mirror before he veered into the left lane. The silence gave you time to look up at him and study his face. The graying scruff at his jaw nearly meeting the curls that had grown long enough to wrap at his neck. 

“M’not sayin’ I didn’t enjoy it. I think it’s obvious I did,” he cleared his throat, attempting to get the image of you bent over the kitchen counter out of his head. His hand circled the steering wheel, fingers outstretched to make the right hand turn, before circling it back, getting it straight again. “Guess I’m tryna figure it out…” he paused and shook his head, deciding to ask a different way, “did your parents comin’ over have anything to do with… it,”

Your eyebrows furrowed, confusion sweeping through you. And figuring his brain was cannibalizing itself more than yours was, you set your hand in his lap and squeezed his thigh, giving him the permission to continue.

“You askin’ me to make it hurt,” his eyes flicked down at you. All you could do was cower a bit more into his side, but he lost the nerve to keep his eyes on you, and shook his head softly again. “I know you said I did what you asked, but I think I might’ve gone a bit overboard and actually hurt you, and…” he cleared his throat again. “If you asked because your parents showed up, and fuckin’ an older guy sorts out daddy issues, I… guess what I’m tryin’ to say is that’s alright if that’s what this is, but I need to know. ‘Cause then you’re saying stuff like you’re mine. And I know that was during sex, and I wouldn’t want to be held accountable for everything I say during sex, but…” He looked back down at you, the realization that he’d gone ranting catching up with him. 

Fortunately, or rather unfortunately, the drive was over. Truck now sat in a crowded parking lot. The world could look in and get a glimpse of something you’d rather have been doing in private. But Joel removed his arm from around your shoulders so he could turn the keys and pull them out of the ignition. “I can’t be the guy that marks up a woman like that,”

“Joel,”

“Not when she says stuff like she’s mine and… yeah I don’t care if it was just a during-sex thing.” He took a breath and cleared his throat, “so I don’t think I’m gonna be able to do that with you again. The really rough stuff. Maybe if you were a one night stand. But you’re not. You’re… you,”

“What’s that mean?”

He glanced at you sideways and pushed his door open, “means we’re on a date. Stay there,” he slid out of his truck and slammed the door shut behind him.

And even if you had been so inclined to move, Joel cut you off by hustling around the front of the truck so he could make it to the passenger-side door first. He tugged on the handle and held the door open for you; his free hand coming down for you to steady yourself on the jump out of the cab. You, however, growing uncomfortable with his honesty, stepped out of the truck by yourself, choosing to forego his help. That was the absolute very least you could do.

If there was any thought or hope that at some point through dinner you’d both snap out of it and return to the chemistry you so obviously had in private, that was squashed by the time the waiter set your plates down in front of you. Conversation had waned – nay, come to a complete stop – and your drinks were the only things keeping your mouths busy.

“Thank you,” you smiled up at the waiter. A quick flick of your eyes to Joel had you seeing that he’d gone straight for his fork and knife, even refusing to say a word to the waiter. Who, also feeling the awkwardness in the air, left your table as fast as humanly possible. 

“You gotta tell me what’s going on,” Joel all but demanded.

“What do–”

Beautiful, divine providence. That’s all that could be said for the way your phone started vibrating in your purse at that very moment. And under any normal circumstance, you would’ve ignored it completely. But it was a sign from God. A get out of jail free card. Only you did just that – scoured through your purse with your hand in the shape of a ‘search claw’ and rifled around until you felt it buzzing against your fingers. Another quick glance at Joel to find his expression now purely unimpressed, before you looked down at your phone screen. And seeing the name across it, you wished you hadn’t seen it at all. 

Joel noted how you re-hid your phone in your purse by clearing his throat. When it grabbed your attention again, he raised his eyebrows, “talk to me. And don’t say it’s nothin’.” He pushed a forkful of food into his mouth, and just when you opened your mouth to say something, he beat you to the punch, “be honest.”

“I’m not just fucking an old man to get over daddy issues, I’m fucking an old man because I like him,” you glared, a little meaner than you thought you’d be.

“Don’t pull punches,” he smiled.

“My mom is weak. My dad’s a steam roller. And I’ve spent my entire life being pitted against my sister in a battle of which one is prettier and which one is smarter. One of us was supposed to find a man to take care of her, and the other was supposed to get a career and take care of herself. Guess which one I am.” You lifted your wine glass to your lips, thankful this place had a somewhat palatable house red. “I asked you to make it hurt because I wanted to feel something. Something that overshadowed the things that their presence evokes in me. And if I’m being completely honest, I asked you to make it hurt because I like you. Because if you hurt me, I mean, really hurt me… even if it’s just in this way, then I can chalk you up as being like every other guy. No good,”

“You–”

“But I fucked up,” you interrupted him and set your wine glass back down. Cocked your head to the side and shook it absently. “Because you didn’t just hurt me like I asked you to. You fucking took care of me after. You ruined my plan,”

“Sorry,” he smirked.

You shook your head again. This time with more intent, “and Kelly saw us walking to your truck. She knows. And it looked like it broke her heart all over again. So I think we should stop doing this and you should give her another chance,”

“What about what I think?”

“Be able to give you the type of relationship you want. I think she’d make you really happy,”

“You make me happy,” he sat back in his chair and pressed a wide smile when that made your eyes return to his fully. “At least you do for now. Think you’re gonna be a pain in my ass in fifteen to twenty years, but maybe I’ll be dead by then,”

“Joel–”

“You know what I think?” He paused for effect but wasn’t actually looking for an answer from you. “I think it’s fucked your parents pitted you against your sister, knowingly or not. I think it’s fucked up that you were made to believe you’re only smart. I think you’re fuckin’ gorgeous. I think you should stop bein’ so afraid of wanting something. Or someone. And I think you should let me try and get you to fall in love with me.”

“Fall in love with you?” You exhaled in a way that sounded like a laugh of disbelief. “Good luck,”

He lifted his beer bottle, “don’t think it’ll be too hard. ‘Cause here’s the thing,” he scooted forward in his chair, a smirk growing across his lips as he leaned over the table toward you, “you ain’t never had a man take care of you before, and now you’re gettin’ a taste of it. You don’t know what it’s like to let a man in and let him love you. You won’t let yourself. Hell, you didn’t even know sex was supposed to come with aftercare.”

“Did too,” it dawned on you that you sounded more like a petulant child than a full-fledged adult.

“Yeah, you tryna sneak outta my house after the first time because I was gone a couple minutes… Sweetheart, you don’t even know what love looks like.” He took a sip of his beer, “how could you know something if it was never taught to you?”

You bit the inside of your cheek to try and keep the tears you felt burning in your eyes at bay. “What’re you trying to do? Make me feel stupid?”

Joel pursed his lips. His eyebrows furrowed and you couldn’t help but notice but the best description for the expression he now gave was remorseful. “To you, bein’ stupid must feel like the worst thing you could be, huh?” His eyes searched yours for affirmation to his question and found more than enough of it. “It’s not. And you’re not,” Joel reached forward and took your hand when you tried to grab at your wine glass again. He intertwined his fingers with yours and squeezed them tight, holding on despite you fighting him to pull away. “You’re not stupid,”

“Joel,”

“You hear me? You’re not stupid,”

“Stop it, Joel,” you pleaded, the first tear falling from your eye, trailing a wet line down your cheek.

“You’re not, babygirl,”

Finally you’d manage to pull your hand out of his grasp and raised both to your face, covering your eyes. You wouldn’t let him see you cry; to show your weakness. Your chest bounced and the breath caught in your throat as you tried to stifle your sobs. For the only thing worse than Joel seeing you cry, was the entire restaurant seeing you cry. And you’d either been at it for longer than you thought, or he managed to pay for the bill rather quickly, but either way, the next thing you knew was you were being hauled up to your feet. Joel kept a hand on your elbow and the other on your upper back. His thumb and index finger cradling the base of your neck to guide you safely out of the restaurant despite your head being bowed.

“Almost back at the car, sweetheart,” he murmured in your ear.

You figured as much. You’d taken far too many steps to not be back at his truck by this point. Just a few more steps. A few more staggered breaths as calmness still evaded you. Then you were pulled to a halt and Joel reached forward for the door handle. He’d only manage to tug the passenger door open before you were turning into him, standing up on your tiptoes to wrap your arms over his shoulders. Your face buried into the crook of his neck.

“I gotcha, babygirl. I got you,” he kept his arms embraced around you tightly. Squeezed you to his body and kissed your temple in the same moment you pressed your lips to his neck for a kiss. 

He rocked you side to side, almost like what you’d do to a baby to soothe them. And whether it was the motion, or the smell of him, or the feel of his lips on the side of your head while he whispered all the gentle things you’d always wished a man in your life would say…

You’re alright, sweetheart. 

I’m proud of you.

You’re safe.

You’re not stupid.

And all these things that sounded a little bit like I love you.

Your breathing evened out. Lungs filled with fresh air that also smelled like his cologne. Once you lowered yourself from your toes and returned to your normal height, you looked up at him and sniffled. If he could like you looking like this, he could like you anytime. And Joel, always unwavering, pinned a genuine smile to his face when you showed him your face again. He lifted his hands and cupped your cheeks; thumbs wiping away the wet trails your tears had left behind.

“Sorry,” you shook your head, giving him an exaggerated pout.

He shook his head in return, “no, no. You been carryin’ this weight a long time.” He wiped his thumbs over your cheeks again, this time with a nod. “Don’t I look like a big, strong man that can carry some of it?”

You looked up into his eyes, really hoping that what you’d find was yes, he did look like someone to carry some of the weight. You also hoped that if that was indeed what you found, that it wouldn’t scare you away immediately. “Take me home, Joel.”

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Home.

Such an odd word to use with him.

Home.

What was that? Your house? His house? Either one as long as he was there? Maybe in this state you were just inclined to read too much into your own words. Let fear build in the recesses of your brain and wonder if they’d be the thing that would eventually scare him off. You figured it was just your own mind playing tricks on you. Making you believe the worst before it ever happened, as if to ensure that it would. A self-fulfilling prophecy. 

Joel certainly wasn’t making you feel that way. Not on the entire drive back home. One of his hands on the steering wheel, the other stroking over the back of your head, playing with your hair. Him checking in with you every time a red light stopped your forward progress. Y’alright? And the gentle smile he’d return when you assured him yes. Not when he walked you back up to your front door and waited for you to unlock it. His hand remained on your lower back, his thumb dragging lazy circles over the fabric of your dress. Not when you asked if he’d come in and his answer was an immediate and resolute, of course.

And surely not now when you returned to your bedroom and found him lounging back in your bed in his underwear, ogling you when you walked in in nothing but the green flannel he was wearing earlier. The buttons undone. The fabric undulating against your body. Desire and lust flared up in his eyes as you crawled up on the bed. 

“C’mere,” he cocked his head back, inviting you forward to his lap. 

Legs straddled his waist with ease as if it had been a move you’d been perfecting with him for years. His hands folded to your thighs. Strong fingers wrapped around supple flesh. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t want you to stay over tonight.” You glanced to the side where Joel was already staring at you. “I’m exhausted,”

He chuckled and closed his eyes, turning his head straight again, “wasn’t planning on staying. Your bed fucked up my back.”

“My bed’s not the–”

Joel squeezed your thighs once, twice, quickly, “shh, c’mere, I wanna tell you a secret.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and pressed your hands to his chest. “What?”

“Come closer,” he whispered, very nearly forcing you to lean in just to be able to hear him.

So you did. Crowded his personal space and leaned in, very ready to turn your head to the side to get your ear closer to his mouth for this so-called secret. But Joel lifted his hand and took hold of your chin before you could turn it away from him. He held you there, and as your eyes widened in confusion, you noticed how his gaze danced over your face – from your eyes, to your nose, mouth, down to your chin where his grip grew gentler, and all the way back up to your eyes. And you opened your mouth to once again ask what the secret was, but your lips parted and before any noise could slip out, Joel met you the rest of the way. Leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours, softly and then all at once. He inhaled deeply and upon releasing your chin, cupped his hand over the side of your face; fingers cradling the back of your head while his thumb stroked over your cheek.

You parted slightly, catching your breath, “that’s a good secret.”

“Got somethin’ else to tell you,” he hummed, not wasting any time in getting you back into a kiss.

You smiled softly against his lips, allowing your tongue to meet his as it searched for entrance into your mouth. Finding it, a gravelly moan escaped his lungs, hung in the air between you for just a moment, until you swallowed it down. Beneath you, you could feel his length growing harder. Joel, too, let you know that he was aware of it. He let out another hum of recognition and reached around you with his free hand, ducking it beneath your ass, and tugged on the fabric of his underwear. 

With another breath, you pulled away from him and set your forehead against his. Eyes pinned downward, focused on your hands on his chest. Fingers dancing over the dusting of hair down the center. “D’you want me to blow you?”

His response was instantaneous. First by shaking his head. Then by the way he leaned in and pecked your lips, and the hand on your cheek drifted down to your shoulder and held you. “No… I–” he rested his head back on the wall behind your bed, “are you okay? I didn’t mean to make you cry earlier.”

For the second time that night, you opened your mouth to say something. To tell him it was alright. You know he didn’t mean to do that. And for the second time that night, your phone interrupted you. There on the nightstand, the whole thing buzzed. The wood tabletop seemed to accentuate the noise and both you and Joel turned to look at it. You know he saw the name flash across the top. And knew he clocked the way you leaned over to quickly turn the screen black again, sending the call to voicemail. It wasn’t the first time you’d done that tonight either.

“Y’wanna get that?” he prodded gently. But you were quick to shake your head and return to your spot on top of him, taking him into another kiss. He took your shoulder again and eased you back. “Might be important if they keep callin’,”

“It’s just my sister,”

Joel’s eyebrows raised. Eyes widened. The very sister that so much of your inner baggage was tied up with. He didn’t want to press. Didn’t want to urge you to divulge too much and end up in tears again. He knew he was treading choppy water.

“I’ll call her back tomorrow,” you mumbled, sounding less than enthused. Running your fingers through his graying scruff, you tried to ignore the fact that you really would have to call her back tomorrow. “Sure you don’t want me to blow you?”

He shook his head again. More insistent this time. “Just want to cuddle up with you before you kick me out for the night,”

You smiled, almost to yourself as you leaned forward, turning your head to the side and resting your cheek on his chest. Legs straddled his lap, arms wrapped around his torso, You couldn’t have been closer to him if you tried. A yawn torn you, absolutely exhausted from the entire day. The fact that your parents had been there that morning seemed like a lifetime ago.

Nuzzling into Joel, you let out a sigh, “your time tonight’s running short.”

He let out a chuckle, and the next thing you felt was his lips pressing down to the top of your head. A subtle nod of acknowledgment. 

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

You woke up due to a shuffling around your bedroom. Squinting into the sunlight that poured in through the window, you spotted Joel pulling his jeans up his legs. He fastened the button and looked in your direction.

“Mornin’,” he looked around, searching for his flannel that you’d thrown off sometime during the night. “I’ve got an early job,”

You nodded and pointed him in the direction of the foot of the bed where you knew he’d find his shirt. “So much for not staying the night,”

He followed your tip and retrieved the garment from off the floor, quickly sliding it on and doing up the buttons, “yeah, my back’s paying for it.” Rounding back to your side of the bed, he bent forward and kissed your forehead, “you wanna come over tonight?”

Foregoing everything but a nod, you let your tired eyes drift back shut. The next thing you felt were his lips on yours, giving a chaste kiss. It almost made you think you could do this every morning for the rest of your life.

Sometime between Joel using the bathroom and leaving the house, you fell back asleep. Taken back to recuperate from the previous day. Looking forward to doing nothing but lounging around and knowing you’d actually have to put in some work today. Two hours later when you woke again, the rest of the neighborhood had too. The sounds of the suburbs seeping in through your old single-paned windows. Note to self, get Joel to replace those with double-paned. 

Rising from bed and starting your morning routine, you noted all the other things around the house you’d have to ask Joel to do. Fix that annoying drip of your shower head. Replace the kitchen faucet to something not so antique looking. Blow out your dryer vent so you didn’t accidentally burn the house down. As you added each thing to the mental to-do list, it became increasingly more frightening how much you needed him to do. How much you needed him. And if that just didn’t make your coffee taste like tar.

It really started to weigh on you. How dependent you were on him being around. How you were spending practically every night with him. Thankfully, the buzzing of your phone pulled your attention away from cynical thoughts. Even if it was your sister calling again. Surely talking to her would be less painful than the rabbit hole in your brain.

“Hi–what?” You furrowed your eyebrows trying to make sense of your sister’s frantic words. It almost made you feel guilty for sending her to voicemail the previous night. “What’re you talking about?” Another pause but her voice didn’t get any less agitated. “Slow down, I can’t understand you,”

Once she took a breath you were able to catch up on her rant. And what you’d gathered was unfortunately something you’d seen had been a long time coming. New parents with a single income in southern California, your sister was cluing into the fact that her husband – the father of her baby – wasn’t exactly the dad she hoped he’d be. You wondered why she was surprised by his absent-mindedness. He hadn’t gone to any of her appointments. He hadn’t waited on her when she was nauseous or doubled over in pain. In fact, he didn’t do much of anything for her in the nine months of what you’d heard had been a pretty hard pregnancy. So her surprise at his absence now that the baby was here was baffling. But here she was, complaining to you about how he leaves for work early in the morning, and comes back in the evening. And though she too had spent the entire day working – as a mother – he didn’t help her with the baby when he got back home. He sat  around, waiting for her to cook dinner, and change the baby, and feed and bathe the baby. He bitched at her if the house wasn’t tidied up. Shit, he hardly even acknowledged the baby. 

And though you wanted to ask her why she was surprised – this is who he’d always shown himself to be – you knew that wasn’t helpful. This was your sister’s new reality. Surely she was growing aware of what a mistake it had been to be to hitch her wagon to him. And you pointing that out wouldn’t change anything. It would still be a mistake.

“What can I do?” It was the only remotely helpful thing you could think to say. And it was genuine. You imagined venturing into motherhood was hard enough. Doing so as if you were a single parent when you expected to have the support of a partner must’ve added to the difficulty. So when she told you the thing that would be helpful, you agreed immediately.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

If Joel’s back wasn’t hurting enough before work, it surely was after. He limped up the stairs to his front door. One hand clutching the railing and the other clutching his lower back. The perfect night was looking like it’d include a heating pad and a lot of whiskey. He hoped you wouldn’t mind.

In fact, he’d just poured himself his first glass of whiskey when he heard the knock on the front door. Figured you saw him come home. He was going to be sure to make fun of you for watching him out your front window again. All ready to give you a good ribbing, he tugged open his front door with a big smile on his face. But upon seeing you, that vanished entirely. A large rolling suitcase was beside you. A carry-on sized duffel pack in your hands.

“Goin’ on a trip?”

“I’m goin’ to my sister’s house,”

His breath caught in his throat. He remembered all the calls you’d avoided the previous night. Wondered how catastrophically wrong it had gone for you to be leaving. “Why?”

“I don’t know when I’m gonna be back,”

“Can you come in so we can talk?” He stepped to the side to allow you space to come in. He wasn’t prepared for you to deny him.

“I have to catch my plane,”

“Is this because of yesterday?” He cocked his head to the side figuring you weren’t bound to tell him the absolute truth. Yet, he surmised he knew the real reason. “You’re spooked,”

“What?”

He nodded. Hit the nail on the head. “Something clicked in for you about us and now you’re spooked. Running away,”

“Am not,”

“Okay. Then tell me,”

“Joel, I have to go,”

“I’m not trying to trap you,” he murmured and stepped out toward you. “I don’t know what exactly got you spooked, but I’m guessing it probably has to do with me being around so much. Maybe I’m doin’ too much for you. Gotta get you to mow your damn lawn,”

“Joel–”

“I’m just trying to take care of you,”

“I don’t need you to take care of me.”

“I know,” he nodded and cupped his hand to the back of your head. “But I want to. And I can. If you’ll let me,”

“I gotta go Joel,” you pressed back against his hand, but he did he best to keep you in place.

“Give me a kiss,”

You knew it was probably the wrong thing to do given that you truly didn’t know when you’d come back. If you would come back, or if you’d spend some time back in California and end up selling your home here. You knew it’d be easier to cut him off here. But his lips looked so soft and you yearned to feel them at least one more time. So you did as he asked and leaned in for a kiss. Let him cradle your head with all the fondness in the world and give you the most tender kiss you imagined existed.

Joel didn’t want to let you go. He knew if he did, each day that passed increased the likelihood he’d never see you again. But you eventually won out. Pulled away enough that your lips parted and you took a step back. You stared up at him, not fearing his gaze, almost as if hoping to sear his image into your memory. Then with a sheepish nod, you turned with your suitcase and walked off his porch and to the awaiting car he hadn’t even noticed had pulled up to whisk you away from him.

[polaroidpascal]

girls night out || frankie morales

AO3 || MASTERLIST

pairing : frankie morales x f!reader

summary : after spending a night out for your friend’s birthday, you try to sneak back into the house without disturbing frankie. you thought he was a heavy sleeper, but your mischievous boyfriend never fails to surprise you.

tags : M-18+, no use of y/n, frankie being positively down bad for you, bar outing, alcohol consumption, reader is aware of her decisions and everyone is consenting, mechanical bull shenanigans, p in v sex (practice safe!!), grinding, riding, frankie has a filthy mouth full of praises, lotsss of nicknames, sweet aftercare bc its frankie and he's a sweetheart ofc

WC : ~3k

a/n : happy frankie friday loves !! hope you enjoy 🤭

“What bar is it again?” Frankie calls from the living room.

“It’s called ‘Deo Drinks,” you reply. “Apparently it’s new in town. Anna said she wanted to see what all the fuss is about. Supposed to be pretty nice.”

Tonight is your friend Anna’s birthday, and she wanted to take all of her best friends on a night out to a new local bar that popped up recently. According to her, it’s a nicer venue (as far as bars go, at least), so she suggested that everyone get dressed up nice for the fun of it. You look down when your phone dings, a message from Anna saying:

make sure your outfit is still practical tho! there’s something at the bar i want everyone to try <3

So here you are on a Friday evening, standing in front of your bathroom mirror perfecting your eyeliner, adjusting your hair, waiting to be picked up by your friends. You hear hefty footsteps traversing the hallway, getting closer and closer to your ensuite. You look in the mirror over your shoulder as Frankie rounds the corner. “Hey, check out these pictures of the bar—”

He cuts himself off when he finally looks up to see you. You’re wearing a sheer sparkling black shirt with a simple black tank-top underneath all tucked into your skinny jeans, the whole outfit being tied together with beautifully shiny jewelry and a pair of black heeled ankle boots. In the mirror, you catch his gaze as his eyes size you up and down, unable to pry them from all of the sparkles. You turn around and his eyes finally meet yours.

“Well? What do you think?”

“Baby… you look beautiful,” he says walking toward you, his eyes leaving yours and continuing up and down your body again. “I mean, you always do, but…” His hands trail up to rest at your hips, holding you at a distance so he can look at you.

You stare at his expression until he’s looking at you again, studying your makeup as his pupils visibly grow. You never get tired of watching your effect on him. You finally ask, “So, those pictures?”

“O-oh, right,” he stammers and brings his phone up. “There’s not very many since it’s so new, but I figured you might want to see anyway. Looks pretty cute.” You can hear the small smile creeping on his lips as you watch him scroll through the pictures. You look up again and smile at him, leaning in for a long, sweet kiss. His hands drop down to your waist to bring you closer to his body, but before he can take it further, you both hear the unmistakable sound of a car horn outside.

“That’s them,” you say, breaking away. 

He steals another kiss, humming in protest before freeing you from his grip and smiling down at you. “Go ahead, then. Go have fun.” You smile back, turning away. He playfully smacks your ass and you yelp from surprise.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

You look back and give him a wink.

Your friend Emily drives the group to the bar, opting to be the designated driver for the night. Pulling up to the bar, you see the sign and decorations on the building: the bright red neon sign illuminating your face, wooden planks lining the building, and old, fake wooden shutters on the windows. Of course, you think. “‘Deo” for rodeo. It’s a western bar.

Suddenly, your phone goes off again:

Have a good time princess. I’ll be awake to let you in the house later, so call me when you’re on your way. Love you, don’t get too fucked up :)

You chuckle and send back a quick “will do, love you too!” before you walk in with your friends.

The rest of the night is a blast. You learn a few line dances from the regulars in the bar, eat food that’s honestly better than you expected, and drink probably a few too many shots and mixed drinks with the group.

“Guys!” Anna yells, obviously feeling the alcohol at this point. “I can’t believe I almost forgot!” She huddles you all together and leans in so everyone can hear better. “There’s a mechanical bull towards the back. I want everyone to try!”

You make your way towards the back and see that, surprisingly, there aren’t many people back here. You approach the bull and everyone lines up for a turn. One by one, you all get on and see how long you can last. When your turn comes, you get an idea. You hand your phone to Emily, the only sober one of the bunch, and ask, “Could you record my turn for me?” She kindly agrees, taking your phone as you kick off your boots and mount the bull.

Back home, Frankie lounges on the couch relaxing in his sweats and a t-shirt, watching some random movie he found. When his phone chimes, he sits up to grab it, sees it’s from you, and opens the message to a video. Before he can even press play, his eyes go wide. 

No fucking way…

He sits up a little straighter and presses play, watching you with bewilderment as you straddle the mechanical bull, meeting every one of its jerks with an equal but opposite rebuttal. He stares at your hips swaying perfectly to keep your balance and your free hand in the air as you exclaim, your friends in the background cheering in excitement. Frankie gazes at your shocked expression. Of course, she’s a natural. He knows exactly why you’re so good at the game, even if you might not.

You ride it so well, but I’d expect nothing less from you ;)

As if he’s being broken from a trance, he notices his sweats feel unusually tight and sees a bulge slowly growing between his legs. He curses the universe that he’s not there with you right now. Though, he probably wouldn’t be able to contain himself anyway, so maybe it’s for the best. He decides that what he really needs is a shower to take care of his… issue.

But nothing will keep that video off his mind for the rest of the night.

By the end of the outing, the only one who can reliably hold her footing is Emily. Birthday girl Anna is by far the drunkest of the bunch, and while you are really not that far behind her, you might be holding your liquor the best of the group. Emily rallies everyone in the car for a ride filled with loud karaoke and copious slurred compliments to each other as she chauffeurs each girl back to their house. You are the second to last passenger to be dropped off, but Emily had planned on staying at Anna’s house anyway, so you were the last stop.

“Do you need me to walk you in?” she asks with a gentle smile through the open window.

“No, no, ‘s okay. Frankie said he left the door open… or something. I don’t remember.” His text from earlier completely slips your mind. “I think he’s sleeping anyway,” you continue with a giggle.

“Okay, I’ll stay here until I see the door close behind you just to make sure you make it in. Goodnight!” she replies.

“G’night!” you say, turning around and making your way to the door. You turn the doorknob as slow as you can and find that Frankie did in fact leave it open for you, but when you walk in, most of the lights are already turned off. You turn and wave to Emily as she pulls off, closing the front door as slowly and quietly as you can. You slip off your boots and leave them at the door, shuffling over to the kitchen to pour a glass of water.

You creep back to your bedroom in methodic yet messy steps, reaching your bathroom. You smear a makeup wipe across your face in a lazy, drunken attempt to clean it up a little and slip into some random comfy clothes that you aren’t sure are yours or Frankie’s, but you don’t really care. Gazing into your bed, you see Frankie’s silhouette, laying on his side under the covers, and you feel a warmth bloom in your chest, thinking about how lucky you feel being able to come home to him.

As you reach down to climb into bed, every intention to spoon Frankie until you fall asleep, you’re interrupted by a hand gently grabbing your forearm. You let out a tiny gasp of surprise. “Frankie?”

“Hey, sweetheart. You made it home alright,” he says sweetly, turning over and sitting up some.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“Did you really think I’d go to sleep before I made sure you got home safe?”

You look down a bit, suddenly remembering his text from earlier. “Hmm… no, I guess not. But I definitely forgot you told me you’d be up,” you reply bashfully.

“I heard you as soon as you walked through the door, anyway.” A grin breaks out across his mouth.

Your eyebrows raise, surprised. “Really?”

He lets out a chuckle. “I know you tried, but you weren’t really that good at keeping the noise down.”

You look down and giggle too. You really thought you were being quiet.

“Plus,” he continues, “I couldn’t sleep if I tried, thinking about that goddamn video you sent earlier.”

You think for a second and remember. Ohh, the bull. You grin back at him seeing his eyes grow dark merely remembering it. And now that you’re finally back in front of him, he’s ravenous. “Oh really?” you tease. “You liked it?”

“Liked it? Baby…” he says, reaching up to grab your sides and pull you closer into a gentle but hungry kiss. He pulls away, his lips mere centimeters from yours, and whispers, “You wanna show me how you did it?”

You see a glimmer of desperation in his eyes underneath his playful tone and nod. He kisses you again, a little sloppier this time as he guides you to straddle him. You lean down and melt into his lips, your tongues waltzing together. You can already feel the outline of his cock stiffening up in his pants and you subconsciously guide your hips up and down the growing bulge. 

He growls into your mouth and you swallow the noise, suddenly aware of the warm wetness growing between your legs. You keep grinding, feeling him get harder and harder, moving your kisses across his cheek and down his jaw. He groans as you lick the muscle flexing on his neck when he tilts back to give you better access. You kiss back up to his ear, nipping at the lobe and whisper softly, “Touch me, Frankie…”

His hands wander down from your face to the bottom of your shirt and he pulls it off over your head freeing your tits to the colder air of the room. His lips immediately attach to you, licking and sucking at your nipple and drawing sweet moans from your lips. He hums back at you, the vibrations reverberating against your skin and moving down between your legs as another wave of wetness fills your panties.

“Frankie… need you inside…” you whine, his tongue furiously working against the hardening bud. “Please…”

“Mmm, always such a needy girl,” he says. “Be a little patient. I missed you.” He helps you out of your soaked underwear and sees just how wet you are. “Fuck princess, you really are needy…”

His hand resting on your hip glides over to your middle, his thumb ghosting over your clit as your hips buck forward chasing the new sensation. You whine as he slowly, agonizingly teases the sensitive bundle of nerves and stares at your face watching it contort with pleasure.

“Yes, Frankie… needy jus’ for you… all you…” you whimper breathlessly at his touch. He loves when you’re like this, losing yourself to the sensations he gives you, soaking him with your slick. He can feel your wetness soaking through his sweats as your naked core rubs against his fingers and clothed cock. 

“Goddamn, gorgeous. Feels good, doesn’t it?” he teases, already knowing the answer.

“Yes, please…” you mewl. You keep grinding against him, the pressure in your lower belly building quicker and quicker. “Fill me up… please… wanna come on your cock…”

A guttural moan rumbles in his chest at that and he lifts you slightly to free his throbbing cock from his pants, precome already making the tip sparkle. He loses the pants completely and he guides you to lower down onto him. “Thaaat’s it baby… fuck, feel so good and warm,” he encourages, your walls welcoming him with every inch added inside. You gasp and moan at the stretch despite being so wet that you’re practically dripping for him. You quickly settle and feel positively stuffed. “Perfect fit. Pussy was made for me, princess.” He brings you down for a deep kiss before he says, “Now, show me how you rode that bull.”

You sit up and rest your hands on his chest for support as you slowly rock your hips forward and backward, gripping his shirt as you go. Sinful moans fill the room when you glide forward feeling the skin on his belly rub perfectly against your clit at the same time. “Fuck, Frankie…”

“Doing so good princess,” he praises, using his hands on your hips to help guide you back and forth, encouraging you to slowly pick up speed. “Yeah, ride me like you rode that bull, baby. Fuck… show me how good you are.” You sit up and pick up speed a bit at the praises he gives you, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. “Yes, beautiful. You’re so good. Gonna come on my cock baby?” 

Your walls flutter around him and he groans at the feeling. “Mhm,” you reply in a high-pitched whine and a nod. You claw at his shirt wanting to feel his skin. “Want this off. Wanna feel you.”

Frankie lifts up a little, ripping the shirt off his body and tossing it off the bed. Your hands roam his chest, feeling him up and down. Your face contorts at the sudden tightness in your abdomen. “Gonna come for you… oh my god…”

“That’s it, keep going… come for me baby, let me feel you squeeze me.. so good…” Frankie drives his hips up just a little as you grind yourself to a shaking orgasm on top of him, crying out in pleasure and collapsing onto his chest. He wraps his arms around you and keeps fucking into you, letting you ride out your orgasm on top of him.

He keeps going, slower now as you come down from your high, holding you in place with those perfectly muscular arms. “My good little cowgirl, wish I could have been there to watch you earlier,” Frankie praises as he moves and you’re teetering on the edge of overstimulation. While you’re still a little dazed from the booze, your senses are heightened nonetheless, and he fills them all. His scent fills your nose as you bury it into the crook of his neck, you feel his burning touch wrapped around your body, and you hear the sweet sounds and praises he mutters into your ear.

“Frankie… ‘m gonna come again…” you manage to whimper out.

“Already princess? Feels that good, huh?” he teases, but he’s barely holding on himself. You can feel the unmistakable throbbing of his cock inside of you. “Go ahead, baby. Come on my cock… not gonna last too much longer either…”

The rolling waves of pleasure overtake you quicker than you thought they would. Without a chance to warn him, you convulse under his touch, soaking him in your pleasure and writhing on top of him. Your muffled cries fill the room and send Frankie into a frenzy, fucking into you with sloppy, hard thrusts.

“Fuck yes, baby… I’m so close… my little cowgirl, ride me so good… fuck!” he yells and quickly pulls out, dropping one hand from around your body to pump his length, spilling all over his stomach in between your bodies. His legs shake and so do yours, barely able to keep yourself hovered over him. You meet his grunting with your own whimpering as you both pant your way through the aftershocks of your orgasms.

You stay laying on his chest, still held there by Frankie’s other arm and panting into his neck. Your tired eyes stay closed and you just want to lay right here on top of him with his sticky mess between you both. And you do, for a while, Frankie unable to completely catch his breath from the ride you just gave him, until he finally chirps up, “I knew you’d be an expert, princess.”

You smile and giggle. You remember hoping earlier when you sent him that video that it would drive him crazy like this, and your plan worked. “Knew you’d wanna see it first hand,” you murmur through tiredness, lingering alcohol, and complete fucked-out bliss.

He gently flips you over and lays you in the bed, getting up to retrieve a towel and clean up his mess. He wipes his stomach walking back over to the bed and gently does the same to you, pressing a kiss right below your belly button. You hum quietly and he gives you another kiss on your forehead. When Frankie climbs back into bed, you tuck yourself into his arms getting swallowed in his embrace, both of you wiggling into a comfortable position before you sigh, satisfied in every way you possibly could be.

“Goodnight, cowgirl,” he whispers and kisses the top of your head. He can tell from the feeble attempt at a response that you’re nearly asleep, and he hugs you a little tighter before you both doze off together.

a/n : could possibly have a fluffy little sequel for this if anyone would ever maybe want that...

[nightlyrequiem]

Be Still My Heart

Chapter 6- Date Night

Masterlist AO3 Next Previous

New Chapter Every Saturday

You're the best in the meth industry but a new product suddenly pops up. You and your boss, Valeria, must figure out who is making it so you can take back the market. All the while tension is building between the two of you.

A/N: I can't copy paste the header image anymore so now I have to add it in on my phone. Boo.

Tags/Warnings: Illegal Substances, Boss Employee Relationship, Angst, Some Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Manipulation, Suggestive Themes, Smut (But Only in CH20.), Dual POV

Your excitement towards the upcoming Friday shriveled up and died the moment you found out you were nothing more than a bet to Corra. Not only that, but everyone you work with was in on the joke. Laughing behind your back at how stupid you are for thinking someone was genuinely showing interest in you. None of these people are your friends and not once have you ever considered them to be, but knowing they're talking about you and laughing at you hurts. It's that unresolved trauma from high school turning you sensitive. You did your best to avoid everybody. Not sure who you could trust. Corra's brother had tried to come up to you to ask a question, but you just stared at him until he left. You sure showed him.

You don't need any of them anyway. You don't need anyone. Nobody in your life has ever benefited you, so you're better off alone. You slink down the empty halls towards the lab. Your anger and embarrassment brews deep within you. The belt loop on your pants snags on a door handle as you pass, and you almost punch a hole in the stupid wooden thing. You storm off and reach the lab. You open the steel door and step inside. Seeing Valeria already waiting, new barrels of pseudoephedrine and sugar sat on the floor by your desk. Her hair is sleeker and neater today and as you approach you catch a waft of something that smells expensive. She's forgone her usual safe turtleneck or simple tank top. Instead choosing to wear a gray button-down shirt with the top buttons undone. It's tucked into her usual cargos and belted.

"What are you so dressed up for?" You mutter. Her attire makes you think of a date. A date which you no longer have. You scowl as you pull on the medical jumpsuit, placing the gasmask on your head.

Valeria stares at you.

"Just felt like wearing something nicer today." She replies. You move towards the barrels and inspect them. When you don't hear Valeria moving or the rustle of fabric you turn to look at her.

"What are you doing?" You frown.

"I'm waiting for you?" Valeria says, brows furrowing in confusion. "What are you waiting for?" She sounds impatient and that doesn't sit well with you. She may be your boss and the head of the operation, but cooking meth is your specialty.

"I'm waiting for you to get dressed in the proper gear, do you think I'm putting on this ugly jumpsuit for fun?" You say harshly.

Valeria leans back, surprised by the bite in your voice. She gets a little stiff, doing that thing where she makes herself seem just a little bigger, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You're smart and an asset so I'm going to pretend you didn't just speak to me that way." She says coldly. Brushing past you to find herself the proper clothes.

"Right." You mutter quietly. "You're here to watch me be an asset and not to make sure I don't mess up."

Valeria pulls the gas mask over her face, and it muffled her words slightly. "You won't mess up." She replies.

"Of course I won't, because if I do, you'll kill me." You meant it as a partial joke. But the room falls into an uncomfortable silence.

"... I wouldn't do that." She says. "You won't mess up because you're in your element, you're the master here."

Valeria's faith in you melts the icy anger around your heart. Only a little bit though.

"Well... even the masters mess up." You murmur. Despite your remark, you do feel more confident. You turn away to get out your notes and jump when Valeria puts a hand on your shoulder. You cringe away at the unexpected touch.

"I know what the common opinion of me is, but I wouldn't kill you for messing up a few times." Valeria says firmly. "If I killed or fired everyone who made a mistake I wouldn't have a cartel."

You turn your head to look at her. Seeing how serious she's taking this. "Right, yeah." You nod.

"I'm serious." Valeria furrows her brows. "You're important here."

You don't quite know what to do with her praise, so you don't acknowledge it or the warm feelings it gives you.

"Okay, we need three cups of Red Phosphorus, and we need to heat it." You say. "Can you pour eight cups of the pseudo into that bowl over there while I do that?"

Valeria promptly opens the barrel and begins scooping the blue liquid into measuring cups. 

You and Valeria work together for hours. She's a fast learner and efficient. Usually, you prefer to work alone but it's nice to have her here. Working alongside her makes her feel more like a person. You sigh and lean back as the large container holding everything together slowly pumps the liquid meth through the drip pipes. The last two batches sitting in plastic bags off to the side. Fifty pounds each. Each with different concentrations of sugar.

"This was enlightening." Valeria hums. Turning to face you. The lights reflect off the glass of her gas mask. You huff in amusement.

"Was it?" You reply. "Are you going to fire me because you know how to cook it yourself now?"

"Go over it with me a few more times, then I will." She replies. "How are you feeling now?"

At first you don't understand why she's asking but you catch on quickly. "I'm... disappointed."

You retract your gaze from her to look at your hands. You had meant to say you were fine. Valeria isn't exactly the first person you'd want to talk about your feelings with.

"Disappointed?"

"Yeah." You nod. "I feel silly, but I was actually a little excited for the date." You admit quietly.

"Oh, did you like Corra?" Valeria asks, eyes burning into the side of your head.

"No, I mean, kind of?" You shrug. "I never saw her in that light until she asked me out and I stupidly got carried away with it. Entertained fantasies of us getting married and moving in together and all that."

Valeria scoffs in disbelief. "Because she asked you out?" 

You frown at her. "I didn't genuinely believe those things would happen I was just imagining them." You feel a little defensive. Like a silly child with a crush. "I just thought I had a shot at it, at being with someone." You act like it hurts less than it does. Finding a life partner is getting slimmer and slimmer and you're slowly accepting that you might never find one. But that's fine, you said you didn't need anyone.

Valeria regards you.

"Is that what you want?" She asks. She glances at the pipes as crystals begin to from. "To... get married, buy a house, two point five kids?"

A meth lab is an excellent place to have this conversation. With your boss no less. This is exactly where you thought you'd be ten years ago.

"Or just getting a partner that sticks around." You shrug. 

"Maybe you're looking in the wrong place for that person." Valeria murmurs.

"What do you mean?" You ask, turning to face her. she speaks like she knows something you don't.

Valeria just shakes her head and moves towards the pipes.

"This is ready to be collected." she says. Carefully pulling the crystals off and into a bag like you showed her. You want her to answer your question, but you let it go and help her. The last bag, batch C is fifty-one point three pounds. ready to be sold off. You and Valeria strip from the PPE and stuff your suits back into the locker. You two walk from the lab, free of the bright lights.

"What are you doing now?" You inquire as you two walk back to her office.

"Paperwork." Valeria says, not sounding too ecstatic about it. "Want to help me?"

You smile. "Not really."

[snuggerudism]

Can you do a Gabe imagine pls? Can it be a childhood friend's trope pls?

For as long as you could remember, Gabe Perreault had been a constant in your life. You had met in first grade, the curly haired boy coming up to you, with your tiny pigtails, and insisting he sat next to you. What came next was a friendship that had only grown stronger as each year passed.

You went to every hockey game of Gabe’s that you possibly could, and tagging along on each other's family vacations.

You weren’t sure when things shifted, but ever since you had arrived at Boston College for freshman year, something had been different. A good, but also scary different.

Seeing girls flirt with him makes her sick now. A year ago, she would’ve given him a thumbs up and a smile as encouragement, but now she can’t stomach it.

——

It’s a Friday night, and instead of going out to a party, you’re sitting in Conte Forum, watching Gabe’s hockey game, just like every weekend they have a home game. You’re his so-called ‘Good Luck Charm’, deemed when the one game you didn’t go to ended in a loss for Boston College.

Ever since then, you were to be present at every Boston College hockey game, with Gabe’s jersey on, per order of him, Ryan, and Will.

You make your way over to the locker game to see Gabe, like every time. Media is done, and Gabe should be walking out the door any minute now.

“Y/N!” Ryan shouts, running over to you. You spot the familiar brown curls walking behind him, and your stomach flips. “Did you see my goal? It was so sick, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, it was cool.” You respond halfheartedly, meeting Gabe’s eyes. Ryan shoots you a knowing look, but you swat him.

“Gabe-o!” You shout, throwing your arms around him. His arms go around your waist, steadying the both of you. Butterflies erupt in your stomach. “You looked like a rockstar out there!”

“Thank’s Y/N/N. You brought us good luck, just like I said you would,” His arms are still around your waist, and the butterflies are multiplying rapidly. “The team and girlfriends are going to the bar tonight, you in?” He looks down at you, and you look up at him.

“Sounds fun. I should probably change out of this though, put on something nicer.” You point down at the jersey.

“Oh, you don’t wanna wear my jersey to the bar?” He mocks fake hurt, his million dollar smile spreading across his face.

“I don’t think this exactly screams ‘bar attire’, so I’m gonna have to say no.” You giggle.

“Fair enough. We can swing by your dorm and then head over.”

“Perfect.”

——

The bar is crowded, and Gabe has a tight grip on your hand, in order to not lose you. He’s deep in conversation with Ryan, while you are talking to Ryan’s girlfriend who’s leaning up against him.

You chose not to drink tonight, instead having a diet coke with lime. Someone needs to make sure that everybody finds a safe ride home tonight.

Gabe is not drinking either, figuring you’re gonna need help with rounding up everyone and getting them back.

“Have you told Gabe you liked him?” Ryan’s girlfriend speaks a little too loudly. She’s drunk, and you can’t blame her. Ryan’s eyes widen, and you squirm out of Gabe’s hold.

“Oh, um, look at the time. I should go.” You all but sprint out of the bar, ignoring Gabe’s shouts behind you.

“Y/N, Y/N, wait!” He shouts, but they fall to deaf ears.

“Gabe, go back to the bar. Your teammates need you,” You yell back, not losing your fast pace. But Gabe is faster, and he lifts you off the ground, despite your feet flailing around. “Put me down, now!”

“Sorry, can’t. Not until you stop yelling at me.”

“Please, spare me the embarrassment. You can never speak to me again, just don’t laugh at me.”

“Was she telling the truth? Do you like me?”

It’s a heat of the moment decision, but you decide it’s now or never. Surging forward, your lips meet his, and his hands fall to your waist, pulling you oh so close. It feels like magic; like a years worth of lingering feelings finally coming to a crash in the best way possible.

“Does that answer your question?”

“Yeah, it does.” He goes in for another, hands still on the small of her back to keep them both steady. It feels right, and nothing else could make either of you happier.

[meiliarotten]

Team Fortress 2 Kinktober Time Three: Return of the Kink

Day 8: Pleasure Scene (Overstimulation)

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

Pairings: Spy x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spy shows you there’s more than one way to he dominated.

Tags: Overstimulation, bondage, scene negotiation, toys, sub/dom, aftercare

Word Count: 3.5k

The Masterlist

“So, what would you like me to do to you?”

Spy spoke so casually, no matter the subject. Even when delivering one-liners in battle, he could almost come off as bored. Perhaps it was an intimidation tactic that he didn't know how to turn off. Whatever it was, it certainly didn’t make it any easier for you to figure out his true intentions.

“Are you trying to tease me?” you asked, prepared to get up and leave if this whole thing turned out to be some joke at your expense.

“Not at all,” he said, lighting a cigarette before offering one to you. You declined, but something about the gesture seemed genuine enough to make you believe him. “I simply want to figure out what you would like to get out of this experience.”

You furrowed your brow. This was strange. That was the only way you could describe it. Everything about this situation was incredibly strange. When you first took this job, you never imagined that it would lead you here- sitting in Spy’s smoking room, negotiating a scene.

A few nights ago, somewhere between your fourth and fifth glass of wine, you had brought up the possibility of letting Spy dominate you. No, that was an understatement- you outright asked for Spy to dominate you. He was handsome, charismatic, and you knew you would enjoy being under his control. You woke up in your bed the next day, a blanket haphazardly thrown over you, and before the regret could even set in, Spy came to your room asking if you were serious. Sure enough, the scenario that you outlined through a slurred, drunken confession was just as alluring to your sober self.

“I don’t like pain,” you finally said, deciding to focus on what you definitely didn’t want before trying to determine what you did.

Spy nodded, taking a drag of his cigarette and slowly exhaling the smoke. “How about pleasure?” he asked, tilting his head inquisitively.

“Well, obviously, but how are you going to dominate me with that?” you asked. “Don’t you need to, I don’t know, spank me or something?”

“Not at all. Domination comes in many different forms, ma chérie. We can work with pleasure alone.” The gears were already turning in Spy’s head, the perfect framework beginning to take shape in his mind. “Since this is your first time, we could use that as a jumping off point and simply see where the scene takes us.”

You liked that idea, finding some relief in no longer having the pressure of needing to plan out every detail from scratch. “Yeah, that sounds good,” you said, allowing yourself a soft smile. Spy mirrored your expression, taking a final drag before snuffing his cigarette out in a nearby ashtray.

“Have you picked a safeword?”

The question caught you off guard. “Oh, um- I hadn’t thought of one. How about red? Like a stoplight.”

“Perfect,” Spy said. “Many people use the stoplight system. It is easily memorized.”

The spotlight system? You hadn't even known that was a thing until Spy explained it. He stood up, beckoning for you to follow him. You were led into an offshoot of his smoking room that you had never noticed before. “Oh, wow.”

“Much nicer than a simple barracks, isn’t it, my dear?” Spy made a long, sweeping motion as he showed off his private quarters, much of which he had clearly taken the time to renovate and redecorate to his own tastes. It was like a room in a fancy hotel. That said, what surprised you the most was the massive wooden X-shaped cross that stood against the far wall, adjacent to the bed.

“So you’ve done this before?” you asked, grinning playfully. He chuckled in response.

“I have entertained a few ladies in my time. And men on occasion. Although, all that was before I took up mercenary work.” Spy glanced back at you with a smirk. “This is a Saint Andrew’s cross. It has not seen use in quite a while. I do believe you voiced some interest in bondage during our little wine induced chat, oui?”

“Yeah,” you said, blushing hard. “I sure did.”

“Would you be open to being bound to this, ma chérie?” Spy asked, motioning at the cross, which you now noticed had cuffs affixed to the top. You nodded, biting your lip nervously. “Good, but we are getting ahead of ourselves. First, I would like you to undress.”

You didn’t hesitate, stripping layers of clothing from yourself. The room was a pleasant temperature, not too cold for you. If anything it was a little warm, although that may have just been the blush in your cheeks. Once all your clothes were in a pile on the floor, Spy approached you, looking you up and down with a hungry gaze. You held your breath when he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from your face. “Si belle,” he whispered. You could tell from his tone that it was a compliment.

Then, he was all business once again. “Alright, let us go over the bindings.” He guided you towards the cross, showing you how to stand against it. “I will only cuff your hands tonight. Let me know if it’s uncomfortable.”

The leather was surprisingly soft, attached to the upper corners of the cross by short chains. You tugged on them experimentally once you were secure. Everything seemed to be in order.

“Are you ready, mon ange?”

You glanced away from the cuffs and to him. His gaze was soft when it met yours. You swallowed hard, steeling your nerves one last time. “Yes sir.”

Spy took a liking to that title immediately. “Let’s start with something simple.” He turned to a nondescript dresser drawer, opening it and retrieving a small, but powerful little device. The wand toy felt lightweight in his hand, far from the bulky structure one would usually expect from a wand. “Ah yes, this will do nicely.”

With a click of a button, the toy buzzed to life. The vibrations seemed so loud, or perhaps you were just very focused on the toy. ‘That’s for me,’ you thought. ‘That’s going to be used on me.’

“I’ll press this against you, right here,” Spy said, dragging out the last two words as he slid a gloved finger over your slit. It came back slick, your arousal glistening on the leather. “Already so wet. You really need this, don’t you?”

“Yes sir!” you cried. You were far less shy about begging now.

Spy grinned wordlessly and pressed the wand against you. Immediately, you bucked against the toy, the vibrations coursing through you. “I wonder if you’ve ever felt so much pleasure that your mind went blank.” He circled your clit slowly watching your hips twitch sporadically.

“I don’t think so,” you stammered between moans.

“You are about to, ma chérie.”

His voice, low and sultry, sent a shiver up your spine. The vibrator felt so good when it was pressed firmly between your legs, massaging you perfectly. The pleasure was building fast. You had never gotten this close so quickly before.

“I want you to come for me,” Spy said. He had been watching your body language. It was obvious that you were about to fall apart.

“Already?” You looked up at him, a hint of confusion slipping through your blissed out expression.

“You agreed to be dominated by me, darling. Tonight, you will do what I want.” Spy leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “And I want you to come.”

Well, you had agreed to follow his every order. If he wanted you to come already, who were you to deny him, or yourself? You let your orgasm overtake you, warmth spreading throughout your body, muscles tightening, and soft moans spilling past your lips. You came down from your high, relaxed and dazed, as per usual, ready to bask in the afterglow, only for you to notice something strange.

The vibrator wasn’t moving. It remained steadfast against your clit, circling the bundle of nerves. “Spy- uh, sir!” You quickly corrected yourself. “Um, I finished...”

“I know.”

You blinked at him, his answer only inspiring more confusion. “Sir- Oh fuck! You can move the toy now!” Your voice was starting to betray a hint of desperation. You started to squirm, trying and failing to pull away from the relentless buzzing.

Spy looked deep in thought for a moment before he shook his head. “Non, I don’t think I will.”

“Shit,” you cursed through gritted teeth. You tried to keep your voice down but as the overstimulation really began to set in, it became a futile effort. You shuddered against the cross, torn between trying to pull away and trying to press yourself harder against the vibrator.

“I am going to wring every last orgasm I can from you. This will be so fun, darling.” A look of realization passed over you and Spy chuckled. “Now you are beginning to understand. You have never had pleasure used like this, have you? To make you submit.”

You shook your head, whimpering a soft “no sir” before your words once again became an incoherent string of moans. Every so often an intelligent word or two could be discerned, such as a final plea for mercy. “Please, it’s too much!”

“You can take it. You want to be good for me, don’t you?” Spy asked. You nodded despite the tears welling in your eyes. A faint click could be heard above the buzzing, the sound of Spy pressing a button on the toy. The vibrations intensified.

“I’m- fuck! I’m still really sensitive!” you whined, as if your complaints would bring any relief. Your legs were beginning to buckle. Thankfully you had the wrist cuffs to keep you from falling to the floor, especially when you felt Spy’s fingers brushing against your inner thigh.

“Let’s see how wet you’ve become,” he mused, slipping his fingers inside you with little resistance. You gasped at this new sensation, a welcome distraction from the relentless stimulation of the vibrator. You bit your lip hard, trying to keep your reactions in check, only for Spy to immediately bring your barriers crashing down. “You can moan for me, ma chérie. I want to hear you sing. Let me know how good it feels to have this toy pressed against your clit while my fingers pump in and out of you.”

He curled his fingers inside you, brushing against your sweet spot. You saw stars, cursing as Spy repeated that action. He was definitely aware that he found a good spot. The build up was sudden this time, an unexpected rush that barely warned of your imminent climax.

“It feels so fucking good! I’m-” you stammered uselessly, trying to say something coherent.

“You’re getting so close, I can feel it.” Spy crooked his fingers, making a come hither motion that stroked just the right spots inside you. “Come again, ma chérie.”

You wouldn’t have been able to disobey him even if you wanted to. With the dual stimulation both inside and out, you didn’t stand a chance. Your orgasm came hard, much more intense than before. Your muscles went taut and the cry that slipped past your lips seemed almost inhuman. You were still shuddering with the aftershocks when Spy pulled away. Even in the ambient light of his bedroom, you could see how his fingers and the toy glistened with your release. Your eyes widened in surprise. Fuck, you had never come hard enough to do that before.

“How are you holding up?” Spy asked, speaking as casually as if he was asking about the weather.

“This…” you began, before faltering, taking a moment to catch your breath. “This is amazing.”

Spy chuckled, taking in the vision before him. Oh, you were gone. Your eyes were glazed over with a dazed expression. You seemed far away, out of body, the poster-child of subspace. It was impressive that you had made it this far, especially given that this was your first scene.

It seemed submission came naturally to you, and Spy wondered just how deep you could go, how far he could push you. “I would like one more from you,” he whispered,

You snapped to attention, looking up at him with an expression he couldn’t quite place. It reminded him of a puppy, always so eager to please, although there was a hint of nervousness there too. “Are we going to…” you trailed off, not sure how to put it delicately. Then again, at this point, was there even a reason to try to put things delicately? Luckily, Spy seemed to understand.

“No, I’m not going to fuck you, not during your first scene.”

You didn’t know why hearing Spy use such vulgar language startled you. For some reason you had always taken him as the type of man to use some frilly, vanilla term for sex, like ‘making love.’ Then again, you kind of detested that term, so this was better. Besides, what you were doing right now certainly wasn’t vanilla by any means.

“Now, what do we have here?” You were snapped out of your thoughts by the sound of Spy’s voice. He was muttering to himself, back at the dresser once again, searching around in the same drawer. His eyes lit up when he finally found what he was looking for. “Let’s see how you handle this, my dear!”

Spy turned around to reveal a small, curved object. It was sleek and black. He held the toy in one hand and in the other he held a matching remote. “Fuck,” you whispered, feeling your arousal start to build again, even though your legs were still shaking from your previous orgasms.

“I’m guessing you know what this does?” Spy asked, smirking as he approached you. He fiddled with the remote, rubbing his thumb over the buttons as if he was itching to press them.

“Yes.” Your eyes were glued to the toy. With the way it was curved and shaped, it was obviously meant for dual stimulation. “It goes inside me.”

“You sound scared.” Spy paused, looking you over, eyes peeled for any sign of discomfort. “Can you truly handle this, ma chérie?”

“I can keep going! I want to keep going!” you responded quickly, eagerly tilting your hips forward as best as you could while still being restrained.

Spy chuckled, now reassured that the tremble in your voice was not from fear, but rather anticipation. “Very well. Allow me to just…” He trailed off as he slid the toy into you, listening to your whimpers. It was obvious that you were still quite sensitive. The toy sat snug within you, pressing against your g-spot while the smaller part curved up to rest on your clit. “Perfect. Now, let’s turn this on.”

Your reaction was immediate, feeling the toy buzz to life both inside and outside of you. A soft, keening noise caught your attention, only for you to realize that you were the one making those sounds. You had officially given up on trying to stay quiet. Your only focus now was the deep, heavy breaths that you sucked in between moans, trying and failing to keep your breathing steady as your body was ravished by the tiny device within you.

“You make such cute noises,” Spy crooned, reaching out to stroke your cheek. He smiled when you nuzzled against his hand, eager for his touch. “That’s it darling. Let it all out. No one will hear you except for me.”

Your moans resembled sobs, but your lips were still curved upwards into a giddy smile, and you hadn’t said your safeword. The only words you had said were the occasional curse or desperate cry of Spy’s name. You really were a sight to behold, writhing on the cross, legs shaking with little muscle tremors, jolting and pulling against the cuffs even as they held fast. It was a struggle for Spy to ignore his own excitement, reminding himself that this was for you.

He sated himself with the feeling of your body beneath his palms. A hand ran up your side, and you shivered when it reached your breast. You arched into his touch, showing that you were receptive. He caressed you gently, marveling at how soft and pliable you were beneath his hands. You were so responsive too, still loud as ever, but even so, Spy took notice when your moans suddenly rose in pitch. Your eyes went wide, fixed on some point beyond the two of you.

“Do you feel it building again?” Spy asked, although he didn’t expect a response from you in this state. He could practically see your mind going numb and fuzzy. “Good, that’s my beautiful girl.”

The shaking that was initially confined to your legs had spread to your whole body. What was once a pleasant, warm arousal now felt like a raging fire. You were burning up and loving every second of it. You were just barely aware of Spy speaking to you, his voice seeming far away.

“I rather like this side of you. A pleasure-drunk mess, coming undone over and over again.” He had backed away, and you had just enough awareness to whine at the loss of contact. Spy now paced back and forth in front of the cross, watching you with a wide grin. “You can’t help yourself, can you? Isn’t it nice to just lose yourself?”

Nice was an understatement. It was euphoric. You could get addicted to this feeling. Another orgasm set your nerves on fire, but you didn’t even have the energy to writhe anymore. All that your body could manage was a few involuntary twitches. Even your moans were reduced to pathetic little whimpers.

“That’s it, come nice and hard. Such an obedient little ange.” Spy wasn’t sure you were even present enough to hear him. You did have a dazed smile on your lips though, so he guessed you got the gist of it. He reached out and removed the toy, trying his best to be gentle. Almost any sensation would feel overwhelming for you right now. You were barely holding your own weight up, and Spy knew that when he undid the cuffs, you would drop. “I’m going to unfasten the straps now. Lean on me.”

Sure enough, you practically fell onto Spy. He held you upright with his arms wrapped awkwardly around your waist, guiding your nearly limp body to the bed that was thankfully only a few feet away. You laid there, looking like a proper mess. Your face was streaked with tears, and you were shivering. It was obvious that you had been through something intense. Pleasureable, but intense.

“Here, for the cold. Your body temperature may drop suddenly after running high for so long.” Spy draped a plush blanket over you. A bottle of water was also pressed into your hands. “You must drink, darling. This will help you come down from the high. I don’t want you to crash.”

“Crash?” you whispered, your voice slightly strained from how loud you had been.

Spy nodded. “Hormones are fickle things. All those endorphins need to even out. You may feel anxious, guilty, or even scared.”

Ah, so this was aftercare. You took a sip of water, which quickly turned into you chugging half the bottle. Fuck, you were thirsty. Apparently sobbing through multiple orgasms could be quite dehydrating. Spy sat beside you on the bed, smiling as you curled up beneath the blanket.

“So, what did you think, ange?”

“It was nice, really nice,” you said, trying to put your feelings into words. “I didn’t realize how intense things would get, but I liked it.” You fiddled with the edges of the blanket before bringing a hand up to your face, feeling some residual dampness on your cheeks. Your smile dropped slightly. “Is it weird that I cried? I didn’t even realize I was doing it at the time.”

“Not at all. It’s a very common response to overstimulation, actually.” Spy said. That made you feel a little better.

“Could you hold me?” you asked suddenly, reaching your arms out. “Just for a bit.”

“Darling, I’ll hold you all night if that is what you desire.” He scooped you up, letting your body lean on his and making sure you were still wrapped up nicely in the blanket. Your body felt heavy as you melted into his embrace. Spy smiled down at you. “You look as if you could fall asleep right here.”

“Is that alright?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t dream of kicking you out now,” Spy said, sounding baffled at the very concept. He ran a hand over your back as you made yourself comfortable, your eyes already drifting shut. “Sleep well, ange.” After a few minutes, Spy sat up, making sure not to stir you from your slumber. He had promised to hold you close for the night, and he would, but there was some clean up to be done first. He got to work, knowing that the sooner he finished the sooner he could rejoin you, safe and secure in his bed.

[finalsentence]

hi everyone!! this is going to be a very simple introduction; depending on how this goes i might get fancy and do something nicer in the future!

this is my second or third time trying to create a space for myself in the writeblr community. both times i failed because consistency is hard. but i’d like to put myself out there and make friends with other writers, so i’m giving it another shot!

about me.

i’m nineteen years old and pursuing a ba degree in english literature! i have absolutely no idea what i want to do after that… if i had it my way i would simply spin my favorite characters around in my head for a living but i’ve been told that’s not how it works. :(

i enjoy reading a variety of genres, including literary fiction, horror, and post-apocalypse!

my top favorite books are: the stand by stephen king, frankenstein by mary shelley, and the kite runner by khaled hosseini. (yes, they are wildly different stories, but they all hold a very special place in my heart. <3)

my writing.

so. confession time. i am a fanfiction writer. i know how that sounds, but don’t scroll away just yet! i put a lot of care and effort into my work to make it accessible and enjoyable for everyone; so even if you aren’t in any of the fandoms i write about, you will still be able to follow my work the way you would follow someone’s original novel. all of my work is a study of canon storylines, settings and characters, but i try to present it in a way that does not assume the reader has any prior knowledge of the source. (and if you do, you get to enjoy the little easter eggs hehe.) there’s something for everyone, i promise! <3

generally speaking, i enjoy writing in the same genres that i read! i write a lot of horror and post-apocalypse, but overall i am trying to develop a more literary style. my work tends to focus on anti-heroes and their super dysfunctional relationships. and lots of my favorite characters are queer-coded!

i want to venture into writing original fiction one day, so you can look forward to that!

my wips.

i only have one active wip at the moment, so that’s what i’m going to talk about here. i might introduce some of my future projects later if i’m able to get this blog off the ground!

the book i’m currently working on is a five nights at freddy’s fanfiction suburban horror novel. it doesn’t have a title yet, because i am notoriously indecisive and i haven’t found one that fits, so until i figure that out, i’ll be using temporary tags and referring to it vaguely as ‘my michael novel.’

the story features an unreliable narrator, sketchy family entertainment restaurants, and lots of paranormal activity!

summary:

michael afton is miserable. living alone in a crappy apartment, unable to hold down a steady job, and haunted by nightmares of a tragic event in his past, he starts to suspect that things will never get better. but then, his estranged father reaches out to him with an unexpected and cryptic offer, asking him to return to his hometown and take a job as a maintenance technician at an animatronic rental facility. though he is unhappy about returning to the town where he grew up, michael dutifully follows these instructions, convinced that rekindling a relationship with his father is the key to turning his life around. however, he quickly realizes things in the facility aren’t what they seem. something sinister is hidden inside those walls, and it’s putting michael’s life on the line. in order to discover the truth about his father—and, eventually, to make things right—michael has to come to terms with his own past mistakes.

it’s not a fantastic summary; i’ll probably rework it soon, and hopefully i will have an entire wip intro to share at some point!

aaand that’s pretty much it! if you’re interested in interacting with me at all, please don’t be afraid to reach out! i am always open to chat, especially about your wips—and feel free to include me in dash games, too! i want to interact with people as much as possible, to build a little space for myself on here with some new friends, and have fun. <3

i hope you enjoy my little corner of writeblr!

[indecisive-dizzy]

I’m sorry if my rambling gets annoying, I just love talking about my silly au and I need to actually make some posts or maybe even a side blog about this au so i can ramble on and on about this without invading you ask box ^^

Daisey is part of the gardening club and the photography club in this au, that’s where they meet Frank and become best friends

Howdy is the heir to the Osborn company and he’s in the same grade as Daisey and Frank. Frank and Howdy are brothers in law, Howdy choosing to attend Frank’s school so he can feel more normal

Eddie and Daisey were close when they were little, but they drifted apart as Eddie befriended the more popular crowd (Barnaby, Wally, Julie, etc)

Eddie is closeted gay, has a crush on Frank and pretends to be in a relationship with Julie as a cover

Julie is closeted bisexual and genderfluid, maybe has a crush on Daisey?? She pretends to date Eddie, they’re just good friends that cover for each other

Howdy becomes the Green Goblin (Green Butterfly/other cooler sounding name) because he wanted to further his family’s research and acted on impulse by experimenting on himself

Howdy idolizes Misumena/Daisey and finds their powers and their superhero-ness incredible, but as the Green something he obsesses over finding out how they gained their powers, openly talking about dissecting them to figure it out

That totally doesn’t scare Daisey, who is literally just a teenager who got superpowers by a spider biting them

Howdy and Daisey are foils of each other, specifically in the area of grief

Daisey lost her little sister Evelyn to a carjacking criminal, while Howdy lost his little sister Lizzy to an illness he was trying to find the cure to but failed to

Daisey tries to help people, while Howdy ends up hurting people

Also they’re both technically orphans, (Howdy’s parents focus more on the company than him, Daisey’s parents work most of the time to be able to provide for their daughters but that costs them time with their children)

Flora basically raised Daisey and Evelyn, she figures out pretty quickly what’s happening with Daisey but let’s them open up to her first

Frank becomes a villain after Lizzy’s death and Howdy seemingly going insane trying to figure out Misumena and what they are

Frank doesn’t die, but he does end up with a ton of injuries and has to be on a wheelchair for a while after the fight

Idk what to do with Howdy but I don’t think he’s arrested, poor bug just needs some help

Eddie and Frank end up together, and Julie tries to be nicer to Daisey near the ends after seeing Eddie being with who he really loved

I only watched the first movie, but I think Doctor Octopus is Home and Wally is involved somehow (possibly as an assistant/minion?)

My other ocs are there too, Wallace being a close friend of Daisey’s in the photography club, but they don’t have major roles

The closest think to a big oc role is Andreas’s mother being the one to show and teach the students about the spiders, along with the one that bites Daisey

Kinda random but I think Julie and Daisey audition for a play at the school that Sally (being the student director/theater club leader) is putting on, and that leads to Daisey being Julie’s understudy and Julie asks them to practice lines with her after school together as a date so they can be perfect at the role in case Julie can’t perform

I’ll post on my acc about this AU eventually, but I’ll probably reblog these asks there and make a proper tag for it if anyone doesn’t wanna see it :,3

Oh this is developing amazingly! I like the brother in law choice for Howdy n Frank!

Closeted Eddie n Julie is actually an amazing take I love that,, I love how Eddie and Frank still get together

Howdy could go to a rehabilitation center i think it's called? the prison that's not a prison and actually focuses in helping those in there. He stays until he's mentally better

also love how Daisey and Howdy are foils of each other,, that's actually so cool and clever and makes some of the best hero-villain dynamics

[panick-pixie]

anyway I have CoD brain worms so here's a blurb I originally posted on Twitter. original idea here, thanks to the op for letting me take this and run.

Ghost x some proper fucking dental care

Contents: Price is a father figure, talk about dental care, nothing too serious, Ghost is a big ol stubborn baby, Price's love language is acts of service, NOT ship please don't tag it as that, this one is platonic and familial.

The conversation started when an overconfident new recruit made a snide comment about "British teeth" and Soap had to stop Ghost from beating his ass. He ended up having to see Price to report what happened and that's when the Captain found out that Simon hadn't been able to go to a dentist regularly at no fault of his own. So Price decided to take it upon himself (and his wallet) to get Ghost some proper dental care.

The first visit, Price didn't tell him where they were going, just said it was a surprise and boy Simon was surprised all right. He was anxious, not only would a stranger be poking around his mouth with metal tools, he knew his teeth weren't in the best shape and he'd have to allow said stranger to see at least part of his face and get all up in there. He hid it well though, gruff, curt and staring down everyone in the waiting room as if he could combust them just by thinking. It went well enough, he had a tooth that had to be removed and a few cavities filled and he handled it well. On the way back to base he kept poking his face, the feeling of numbing strange to him.

The second visit was a routine cleaning and that's when braces were recommended and Ghost groaned, another office building and another stranger messing around in his mouth. Price was more than happy to take him however and he knew it was for the best. The first visit to the Orthodontist went better than the dentist's, the waiting room was less formal and there was a big coffee maker that also made hot tea. The doctor was also nicer and he found himself relaxed until he found out he'd have to wear the damn metal things for two years. He was glad they wouldn't be put on right away and they'd need to take a mold of his mouth first, which was fine until he was gagging around the cold pink goop and metal plate used to make the mold.

A week later he was scheduled to get them put on and he was surprised that the process of putting them on was painless. When the braces were tightened the following month he started to regret allowing Price to take him to the orthodontist. Of course he had no trouble keeping them clean and no one dared to call Ghost "brace face" or "metal mouth".

The second month he had them the doctor recommended rubber bands to help bring his jaw forward and correct his slight overbite. The first time he snapped one was the second time he put them in by himself, he was alone in his barracks and let out a loud string of curses when his eyes began to get teary. The second time they snapped is when he was yelling at some poor recruit who had the misfortune of fucking something up. The rubber band made a sharp snap sound that anyone in the room could hear and Ghost hollered. He almost felt like punching the doctor when he gave him new, thicker rubber bands to wear.

[adelheidvonschicksal]

In the Countryside

Summary: Your family moves to a new house, where you strike an unlikely friendship with its ghostly inhabitant. Too bad you didn’t know that somethings are better left in the past.

Tags: Modern AU, Ghost AU, Yandere, implied child neglect, a bit of kissing when reader is 18, mild sexual references, and cursing, angst, mentions of death and corpses 😊

Word Count: 7.9k (I had to hurry up the ending a tad, because it was getting way too long)

August 20th, 1999

Age: 8

You stand inside the empty foyer of your new home. The first thing you think is that this house is bigger than your old one but lacks its warmth as the steps of the moving company workers echo through the hollow room. There’s a lot of dust clinging to what little furniture that was left behind by the old inhabitants, understandable considering this house is made completely of golden lumber like so many things in the countryside.

Your father tells you that the countryside will be nicer than the city, a new start for the family. There won’t be any more fighting in the countryside. It’s a new home, new friends, new everything. The only thing from your former place you carry is the doll named Carmen squeezed in your arms, your best friend, custom made to look like you.

“(Name), why don’t you go pick out your room,” your father tells you, and you rush excitedly to the steps, not catching your mother’s voice echoing out towards your father.

“I can’t believe you moved us out here.”

On wobbly feet, you ascend the spiral staircase. It’s difficult because your legs can barely rise above the steepness of the steps, and they make an ungodly creaking sound all the way up until you reach the top.

You go through the many different rooms in the house, searching for the one you’d want to call your own. Already in your head you knew what colors you wanted your walls to be painted. At the very end of the hall is the final room, a single door centered on the shortest wall. You were about to search it to add to rank against all the others when a single line of powdery white trailed in front of the frame stopped you.

Curious, you place your doll on the floor in favor of poking at the thick line, and little grains of white stick to the tip of your finger so familiarly. You stick the finger in your mouth and gag.

It tastes salty.

As you’re running your tongue over your teeth to get rid of the taste, the door in front of you slowly creaks inward. You don’t know why when you look into the darkness of that room your body starts to shiver. For some reason, you’re scared but you’re not sure of what.

Suddenly, you see sharp blue cutting through the darkness as feet echo just beyond the frame. You’re unable to move as the steps grow louder but when those same blue eyes snap on your figure you finally manage to turn and run the other direction, screaming.

You stumble down the steps and to the foyer, where your mother is instructing the movers where to put everything. Desperately, you pull on her hand to try to get her attention. “Mama, mama, upstairs, there’s someone-“

��(Name), can’t it wait? I’m doing something.” She lightly swats your hand away causing you to pull it defensively to your lap. Biting your bottom lip, you force your eyes down and stampede to your alternative, the one you know wouldn’t reject you.

“Daddy!”

Following behind your father, you stride up to the second floor and return to the room at the end of the hall. The door is still wide open, a foreboding sense of strength inside the dark room makes you cower behind his leg.

Flicking on the lights, your father walks inside but you refuse to go past the line on the floor. He looks around the area, at the many boxes and chests stacked all around, the room obviously having been used for storage. Then, he spots it—an old mannequin head used for styling hair sitting high on top of one of the boxes. This must’ve been what scared you.

“See, there’s no one in here, baby girl. It’s just a doll.”

He flashes you the mannequin as if to prove his point, and you frown, unsure how to piece together that it was a doll you saw. You definitely heard someone moving.

Taking the doll with him to toss away and prevent another scare, your father flicks the lights back off and leaves the room. Closing the door, he finally notices the salt poured on the floor. Leaning over, he drags his fingers across, breaking it.

Rubbing his palms together, he scoldingly asks, “Did you do this?”

“It wasn’t me, it was already there!”

He sighs.

“It’s probably for slugs. Great, that’s just great. Don’t tell your mom about this,” he makes you promise before stalking back down the hall and leaving you behind.

You make a move to follow behind him but it’s a last inkling thought that you remember you were leaving Carmen. You grip your hand around her wrist and hug her tight. You couldn’t believe you almost left her behind again. Turning, you go to follow your father but pause when you hear the creaking of the door behind you and a low whisper.

“(Name).”

You glance back at the door, another whisper of wind sends a shiver along your spine and disturbed you run away as fast as your feet will allow.

October 31st, 1999

Your father is a liar.

He promised the countryside would be better, but there’s no one your age here to play with like in the city, and every house is too far away for you to go trick-or-treating. So, you and Carmen only have each other to play within your large fenced-in yard.

Carefully, you sit her against the side of the house before running to the other side of the yard where your rubber kickball waits. You bounce it off the side of the house, pretending to play toss with her. Each time, it comes back to you, rolling a little on the hilly grounds to reach you.

You play like that for almost half an hour without incident until the ball bounces off the house and right over the fence. “Carmen, you threw it too hard!” you whine and head towards the gate.

In your head, you know that you’re not supposed to go out the gate by yourself, but you reason that you’d grab your ball and come right back into the yard. So, you stand on your tiptoes and jump, smiling when you’re just tall enough to unhinge the lock.

Walking down the driveway, you finally spot your ball stopped in the middle of the street. It never crosses your mind to make sure you look before running up to go get it, and you don’t notice the slight rocking of loose asphalt and shred of tires speeding down the street until the metal grill plate of the car is already right on top of you.

You’re frozen, unable to move out the way, your only instinct being to flinch as if it would protect you. With an inhuman amount of strength, something hard and heavy crashes into your body. It slings you back to the side of the road as the car swerves the other direction and comes to a screeching stop that leaves black marks streaked on the road.

You blink a few times, unsure exactly what happened, but the next thing you know your father is opening the car door and you’re being scooped off your feet and into his arms, your chin rested on his shoulder as his hand hugs the back of your head.

“Fuck, baby, are you okay?” he frantically rants, and you can feel his chest rapidly expanding against your body with his panicked breathes. “Daddy is so sorry.”

“I’m okay,” you tell him, unable to explain how it felt like someone had pushed you out the way. You glance around for the source of that force but find only his car remaining, the same car you’d be squished under right now had you not fallen over. When you realize this, that’s when the waterworks start and fat globs of tears start to run over your chubby cheeks as you bury your face against his shoulder.

“Where’s your mom?” he asks.

You sniffle. “In the house.”

Once again, you realize your father lied.

There’s still fighting in the countryside. It’s your fault for going outside the gate, so you stay upstairs, bouncing the rubber ball up and down the hall to avoid the arguing that’s happening downstairs. As you throw it back down the hall, the lone door creaks open, allowing it to roll into the dark shadows on the other side.

You pause right outside the door, not brave enough to enter into the dark. Unlike most children, you’ve never been truly afraid of the dark, but you do fear what’s in it. You stand outside for almost eternity until the little bouncy toy slowly rolls back into the light of the hallway.

Eyes widening, you hesitantly grab onto it before curiously rolling the ball back into the room. You wait a few seconds, and sure enough, it finds its way back to you. You plan to do it a third time, but your mom’s voice stops you.

“(Name), it’s time for dinner!”

“Okay!” you answer and promptly return to the first floor.

Dinner that night is eaten in silence, and you’re almost thankful for when it’s over. After eating, you take your bath, and you’re neatly tucked into bed at eight. Yawning, you turn in your sleep, hands instinctively reaching out for Carmen only to find her absent.

It’s almost impossible for you to fall asleep without her at your side, so you scoot out of bed and look around your room for your precious doll. Failing to find her under the bed, you gaze around once more and catch a familiar shadow stretching out in the hallway.

“Carmen, get back here,” you call out as you pad into the hall after her. You spot the doll, sliding further and further along the wooden floor. You focus completely on catching up with her; and in your concentration, you fail to realize your feet passing the threshold of the storage room.

Your hand reaches up for the light, and your signature move is to jump to turn it on. You shift your gaze to the several boxes and chests around the room, unable to find your doll in sight. You’re sure this is where she went, and you start searching through the storage boxes.

“Hey, there, cutie pie, is this what you’re looking for?”

Surprised, you turn around and find your doll hovering in front of you. You’re so excited that you yell her name and reach out to draw her to your chest in a tight hug. It’s when you hear a smooth chuckle that you’re drawn back to your senses.

In front of you, a man, probably the tallest you’ve ever seen, his hair is white like the snow and his eyes are a familiar yet brilliant shade of blue. The biggest thing about him is perhaps that you can see through him, at the little particles of dust flying behind him.

“What’s wrong?”

He takes a step closer, and you take a step back.

“I’m n-not supposed to talk to strangers.”

It’s a poor excuse but it’s also the truth. You’re not sure who this man is but you can recall running from him the first day you moved in. You wonder if he’s been hiding in here the whole time.

He laughs at you, something soft and sweet, and it makes you drop your guard when he smiles pretty at you. “Ah, but we aren’t strangers. Don’t you remember playing together earlier?”

“We did?”

The man nods at you before taking a seat on top of one of the sturdier chests to level himself closer to your height. “We played ball together,” he says, and you vividly remember your ball rolling back to you. “And if I didn’t pull you out the way today, your daddy would’ve hit you with his car.”

“That was you?”

“Sure was!” he answers proudly. “Good thing, it’s Halloween too. Usually I can barely hold onto this form, so you would’ve definitely been out of range otherwise. Honestly, it’s kind of annoying not having all my powers,” he rants and laughs when he sees how confused you seem by it. “Never mind. My name is Gojo Satoru by the way.”

Hesitantly, you grasp his hand. It’s a strange feeling, chilly and fragile, like his body is barely holding on but you don’t let go as he shakes, “I’m (Name).”

“Hello, (Name). It’s nice to meet you,” he says, “There, now we’re officially friends. Now, how about we go get some candy? I saw that lady downstairs put a huge bag of it in the pantry.”

April 17th, 2000

Everything has gotten better ever since you’ve met Gojo. You learned a lot about him in the few short months that your family has lived in the house. You found that he used to live here a really long time ago, back in the sixties. He passed away before you were born and has been alone in the house ever since.

You felt a little bad for him for being by himself for so long so you promised him that the two of you could be friends since you didn’t have any either.

The only problem is he can’t leave the property.

(“Why not?” you ask him.

“I’m not strong enough yet.”)

It didn’t matter though.

There was plenty of fun for you to have around the house together. Currently, the two of you were sitting at the dinner table, coloring pictures together and sharing your plate of snacks. You had gotten your father to bring a fourth chair to the table months ago so Gojo could eat dinner with you.

You thought it was a little funny, seeing a ghost ask for food, but he insisted that he could still taste it despite not necessarily needing to eat. Still, it was a bit disturbing to see parcels of food travel through his translucent body. But lately, Gojo was beginning to seem a little more human, growing a bit more solid, a little less fragile each month he spent interacting with you.

“Bleh,” you look up to find him stretching out your juice cartoon away from his face, his nose scrunched in disgust. “What is this junk?”

“Apple juice.”

“It tastes rotten,” he says, sticking out his tongue as he gags.

“It’s not rotten,” you giggle. “It’s sugar-free.”

“Oh, double gross. I think I would’ve preferred rotten. Don’t you got anything edible?”

You blink at him. “What does edible mean?”

“Loaded with sugar,” he explains, and you open your mouth in realization.

“There’s soda in the fridge.”

Gojo rises from the table and heads to the kitchen while you follow behind him on short legs. He opens the fridge to find the soda you were talking about, but his eyes spot something much more interesting.

“Now, this is what I’m talking about,” he says, and your eyes widen when he grabs the long neck of a glass bottle filled with deep red liquid. “Merlot, huh. You know normally I hate this type of stuff, but it’s been decades.”

“You can’t drink that,” you tell him. “That’s adult juice.”

“Good thing I’m an adult then,” he teases, and you pout up at him and cross your arms.

“You’re going to get us in trouble.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to drink that much, I’m a lightweight.”

You’re not sure what he means by that, but you know that he shouldn’t be drinking it especially from the bottle. “Stop it!” you whine loudly as he sips it down, drawing the attention of your mother.

“(Name), what are you doing in there?” she calls from the living room, and you and Gojo both jump when she rounds the corner into the kitchen. Gojo immediately disappears, leaving you with broken glass and a puddle of wine spreading on the floor.

You gulp as she places her eyes on you.

“It wasn’t me! It was Gojo!”

You whine as she carries you off to your room.

“I don’t want to hear it. You’re too old for imaginary friends,” she scolds before sitting you on top of your bed. “You’re in time out,” she tells you, and you fold your arms and angrily puff your cheeks at her as she walks out the room.

As soon as the door closes, Gojo appears right on schedule and gives a low whistle. “Sheesh, she’s kind of a bitc—bore, isn’t she?” he says, and you hmph at him in response. “Aw, don’t be that way.”

“You got me in trouble.”

“I know, I know, but look at what I got you~” he coos, and he pulls out candy from his pocket. “Right off the top shelf, fresh for you.”

Your eyes immediately light up, and you take the candy and aggressively shove it into your mouth.

“Thank you, Sato!”

“That’s what best friends are for,” he says, enjoying the way you eyes light up as you suck on the piece of candy.

“You’re not my best friend,” you tell him bluntly, innocently, and he scowls. “Carmen is my best friend.”

“Who the hell is Carmen?” he asks, and you smile at him before digging under your sheets to pull out the doll.

“This is Carmen.”

“Ah, so not a real person.”

“Don’t worry, you can still be my friend as long as you don’t get us in trouble again,” you tell him as you lick the candy wrapper.

“Are you sure about that? If you ask me, you don’t need that doll anymore.”

“But-“

“Can she color with you?”

“No,” you admit.

“How about play toss with you? She certainly can’t tell jokes like I can or talk for that matter.”

“No, but—”

“So why is she, a bunch of cloth and plastic your best friend, and not me?” he asks, eyes glinting in the light, making nervousness creep inside of you.

“Because m-my daddy bought her for me so I wouldn’t get lonely,” is your answer as you hug her defensively but he’s way stronger than you as he pries the doll away.

“But you have me now, so you don’t need her anymore because I’m your best friend, and you’re my best friend. So, neither of us have to worry about being lonely, right?”

“Uh…right,” you say unsurely but your agreement causes his eyes to dull back to normal as he smiles at you, and it makes you calm. “Alright, you can be my best friend.”

“Best friends forever?”

You nod flippantly and hold out your pinkie to complete the promise, and Gojo happily accepts, even more excited than you are.

“Good. Trust me, it’s much better this way.”

December 7th, 2003

You’re surprised this day didn’t come sooner. All these years, you could sense the tension in the house; and by the time you turned twelve, you gained enough world knowledge to understand how fragile your family situation was.

You understand why your father moved out to the country now, which you’re grateful for his attempts to piece together an already fractured marriage but moving didn’t erase problems, and your mother had been clamoring more and more about wanting to leave this house behind and go back to the city. Your father even contacted a real estate salesman about selling the house, but you guess she didn’t feel like waiting.

You wake up on that morning and find your father alone at the table, arms raised, hands folded in front of him, and head forward to lean against them. There’s an unusual silence in the air and the lack of other sounds alerts you to the fact that something is wrong.

“Where’s mom?”

“(Name), I—”

Oh.

That’s all you can say as you’re not entirely sure how to feel. You simply feel empty aside from this strange hole deepening in your chest; and when it hits the bottom, it implodes and swells inside you at once.

You suck in a quiet breath and clench your fists to hold the flux of emotion in your chest. You have to be strong for the two of you left.

“I-It’ll be okay, daddy,” you tell him. Dragging your feet forward, you close the distance to press your head against his shoulder. You can already feel your tears beginning to soak into his sleeve. “I’ll help do everything mom used to do, so you don’t have to worry about the house, and I’m sure she’ll be back soon…”

He drags from underneath you and wraps it around your back to pull you tighter.

The rest of the day you take refuge in your room, tucked in the sheets of your bed as you silently cry to yourself.

“In my opinion, this is a good thing. Four years, and I never really got what she did around here anyway.” He laughs at his own humor, but you aren’t laughing as you turn over to face away from him. He walks to the other side of the bed to look at you.

“It’s not your fault. You know that right? Sometimes, people just leave.”

“Mhm,” you answer but it isn’t honest.

A part of you will always blame yourself. You’re certain she didn’t want you around to begin with and if you weren’t here that things wouldn’t have dragged out for this long. Sniffling, you turn on your side to hide your swollen face from him.

Gojo sighs softly. He’s never the best at comforting words.

Seeing enough space available right at your back, Gojo climbs into the bed with you and pulls your arm to roll you towards his chest. He can actually feel the warm tears leaking on his body, and it makes his non-existent heart tug.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, fighting not to sniffle.

“For what?”

“For ruining your birthday. I know it’s today. I was planning to make you something but—”

“Oh, that? Don’t worry about that. What’s more important is that you’re okay.”

Gojo squeezes his arm around you, and you nearly start to cry again at how warm and real he feels, at how the affection in his voice eases the swelling in your heart the tiniest of bits.

“Sato…”

“What is it, angel?”

“Promise me you’ll never leave me.”

He softly smiles at the top of your forehead.

“I promise,” he grabs your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours, surprisingly solid against your shaking limbs. “I’d never leave you, angel.”

And as you wrap your arms around him, the best birthday present is knowing that now his best friend won’t leave him either.

February 14th, 2009

Going to school in the country is a different experience than going to school in the city. In the country, everyone already knows everyone; and unfortunately, that goes for you as well.

Since middle school, everyone knows you as the girl who lives in the old house on the back road, the girl with imaginary friends who think ghosts are real. You wish you could make them all understand that your best friend, Gojo, is very real, and he’s a great guy. Handsome too you now realize since you’re finally at the age that you notice how smooth and symmetrical his face looks, how handsome his white lashes are ghosting over his skin when he closes his eyes.

There’s also another boy you’ve been noticing. He’s captain of the baseball team at school, dark-haired and smart, a pitcher. Someone who’d never notice you as you blend in with the other girls who made chocolate for him on Valentine’s Day.

You’re proven wrong as the boy of your dreams asks you to be his girlfriend.

That afternoon, you bike home as quickly as you can to let your best friend know the good news. You run into the house, all the way upstairs to your room, and flop down on your bed with a squeal as you hold your hands over your heart.

You scream seemingly at nothing.

“Gojo!”

As if summoned, Gojo apparates in your room and sits cross-legged at the end of your bed in time to see you swoon again.

“He asked me out!”

“Who? Baseball Brat?”

“Gojo!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he sings out. “I mean that astute young gentleman.”

You roll your eyes and sit up on your knees. “You can at least pretend to be excited for me.”

“I am excited,” he replies as if offended you’d ever accuse him of not being genuine in his actions. “Who wouldn’t be excited over their little angel dating someone who wears all his baseball caps backward.”

“I get it. You don’t like it.”

“I never said that. I think you could do better though.”

“Gojo, let me have this one, please,” you ask him sweetly and flutter your eyelashes at him. He gives in almost readily to that look, and a soft smile crosses his face that could melt butter.

“Fine. I’ll let you have it for now.”

You giggle at him. “I’ve never had a boyfriend before. I’m not even really sure what we’re supposed to do together. Oh, what if he tries to kiss me,” you dreamily sigh before suddenly a look of horror takes over your expression. “Oh god, what if he tries to kiss me?”

“Don’t you want him to kiss you?”

“No, I mean yes! But I’ve never kissed anyone before! What if I mess it up or worse what if he’s kissed before and I’m not as good!”

Gojo laughs at your panic. “Calm down, kissing is really easy. You have to be the most socially stunted person on earth to mess it up.”

“Sato, no offense, but the only friend I had for the last ten years is dead. I’m what you’d consider socially stunted.”

He can’t contain his amusement. It comes out in a deep chuckle as his hands rise up to cup your cheeks. His lips falling on yours is so sudden, and the taste of him seems surprisingly real, intoxicating as his lips work over yours. Feeling dizzy from the force, you moan weakly into his mouth, and he pulls away as soon as he hears it as if he was teasing you by only giving you enough to make you crave for more.

His eyes are shining when he looks at you with a boyish grin. “There, you had your first kiss, so nothing to worry about now.”

Your face heats up, and you growl. “Satoru!”

“Don’t think of trying to do anything more with a brat like that until you’ve dated for a while, got it?” he says, poking fun at your little anger from having your first kiss taken from you so suddenly.

You stammer. “I can’t believe you.”

“I’m only teasing,” he says, but you huff and cross your arms at his laidback attitude about it. Angrily, you flop back onto your bed, and Gojo slowly slides over you to box you in. “Are you mad, my pouty princess?”

“Yes.”

“Are you really?” he repeats, running his fingers up your sides to tickle you. You refuse to give him the satisfaction and purse your lips to fight off the urge to laugh. It’s no use though when he zones in on that spot around your waist that’s been sensitive since you were little, and you start to giggle. He refuses to stop until your eyes are watering and your chest is burning from lack of oxygen.

“Okay, okay, I’m not mad,” you puff out, and he smiles at you as you gently wipe the tears from your face. Then, you look up, surprised to find him frowning at you.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he whispers then bites down rough on his bottom lip, “If I was still alive, I’d give you a lot more than a kiss.”

“If you were still alive, you’d be 100.”

“How old do you think I am exactly?!” he spats, making you laugh. “I’m serious. I would’ve made you mine by now. Maybe even started on a family by next year.”

Your smile drops at his confession. You’d say it’s surprising, but you think you’ve always sensed that at some point Satoru had fallen in love with you, probably around a year ago. You wish you could fully return his feelings, he’d been alone for so long, and you didn’t want him to feel like he was going to lose you.

But you weren’t sure if the two of you could ever really be happy together.

You bring your hand up to caress his cheek.

“Hey, I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head and gives you that award-winning smile again.

“It’s fine. I just want you to be happy. This guy, he makes you happy, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you tell him.

“Then, that’s good enough for me. But promise not to forget me here.”

“I’d never forget about you.”

“Even if you get married and move away to have a little baseball team?”

You chuckle. “If I ever got married, I’d find a way to bring you with me, no matter what, you’re my number one best friend after all,” you say, and you mean it. You’d look for anything to make sure he didn’t get left behind here, alone again. He’s such a talkative guy, for someone like him, being alone has to be torture.

Gojo groans softly, leaning his head closer towards you as he squeezes onto your waist. “Why do you make it so hard to share you,” he says, and you don’t resist when he once again claims your lips.

If only things were different.

March 10th, 2009

Satoru has never seen you cry this much before in years, probably not ever since your mom left. He holds onto you tightly, fingers trembling to hold down the anger radiating through him and making his eyes glow brighter. Too embarrassed to tell your father the situation, it’s only natural when you seek him out and explain what that boy did to you. That rotten, spoiled, loathsome little bastard.

“I’m so stupid,” you cry into his shoulder, and Satoru keeps his mouth to your neck, kissing you softly in an attempt to comfort you. “Why did I even think he’d like me?”

“You’re not stupid, he’s an asshole.”

Satoru had known that there would always be assholes in the world who’d lie to get what they wanted from women. He was one of them in a way but never had he stooped so low to pretend to like someone because a friend had dared him to ask them out, and he also wasn’t stupid enough to let that person find out.

“Angel, how about you invite him here?”

“Why?”

He winks. “We’ll play our own little prank to teach him not to take your pure feelings for granted.”

“That’ll never work,” you say, “He’ll never come over.”

“Sure, he will. Tell him you want to work things out, that you’ll be all alone and the two of you can get closer for real this time.”

“You think he will?”

“He’s a teenage boy, and you’re a cute girl. Of course, he will.”

At that, you agree.

March 15th, 2009

Against your better judgment, you listen to Satoru, feeling as if you could use a little revenge against the boy who so callously toyed with your heart for the mere bet of twenty dollars to date the weird ghost girl for a month.

“My room is right up here,” you tell him, holding onto his hand as you lead him upstairs and into your room. You can barely contain your excitement as you tell your classmate to lay down on your bed and take off his pants for you while you go freshen up. “I’ll be right back,” you say, planting a kiss on his cheek to keep him interested.

You step out of the room, closing the door behind you, and you go into the bathroom so you can have a prime seat to view the carnage. It’s about a minute later when you hear screaming from the other side of your door. You have to cover your mouth to stop your fit of giggles as he scrambles out of your room, still in his boxers. Satoru steps into the hall, quickly fade stepping to catch up with the other boy.

“This is too good,” you think, but jump when you hear a thud from down the hall.

Worried, you leave your position to see what happened, and you can’t contain your shock as you catch Satoru holding up your classmate against the wall by his neck. “Satoru, what are you doing?”

“Trust me. This is for the best.”

You flinch when Satoru’s grip tightens around the kid’s neck, causing him to gag as he clawed at Gojo’s wrist.

“Satoru, that’s enough! We’re only supposed to be scaring him,” you try to remind him, “Put him down!”

Sighing, he snaps his head in your direction, glowing eyes fading back to normal blue. “Fine,” he agrees, and relief fills your heart until you notice him walking towards the stairs.

“Wait,” you strain out as it quickly dawns on you what he’s doing, “Please don’t do it!”

Satoru doesn’t even look at you as he pulls his arm back in a slinging motion.

You scream as you see his body flung down the flight of stairs. Your classmate tumbles headfirst, and there’s a crack that echoes through the foyer when he hits the steps at an odd angle about halfway down. When he finally lands on the floor, you push past Satoru and rush down the steps to check on him.

“Please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead,” you think each creaking step towards him. Luckily, he opens his eyes and the first thing to reach you is a cry as he flips off his side.

He grasps onto his right arm, sobbing as he screams out a solid fuck. You quickly realize the crack you heard was his arm snapping, and you make a panic rush to dial your father, who you were sure would get there much faster than the ambulance, seeing as there was only one hospital a good distance away from the area.

When you come back home, it’s well past midnight. Luckily, the doctors don’t really believe people when they claim ghosts attacked them especially when they have a concussion. Your father goes to his room to take a shower, and you sigh as you carry your fatigue body up the steps, pausing to grimace when you see the smallest smears of blood still dried into the wood.

You hear a low whistle and look up to see Gojo leaning over the banister that surrounds the first few feet of the hallway. You’ve never seen a look that absolutely delighted on his face or that disturbing.

“Looks like he won’t be pitching for a while, huh,” he says, laughing even.

“Satoru, you could’ve killed him. You realize that, right?”

“So? It’s like I told you during that whole Y2K nonsense. Death isn’t that scary. Besides he deserved it for hurting you.”

You glare at him. “That’s not anything I wanted. You went way too far.”

“Trust me, (Name). If I wanted him dead, he’d be dead. Remember, I’m the only one who knows best for you; and if that means getting rid of one more person, so be it.”

Your eyes widen.

“Sato…what do you mean by one more person?”

He doesn’t answer your question as he dissipates.

June 21st, 2009

You’ve come to realize that you don’t know as much about Satoru as you should have. Having ignored his presence these past few months and watching as he becomes more unhinged and desperate for your attention, you begin to wonder if he’s truly the friendly person you once thought you knew.

You knew nothing else than he let you see, not even how he died, and his cryptic response back in March still scared you. What had he meant about getting rid of another person for you?

Had he…killed someone?

The thought absolutely terrified you even more as you would catch the way he’d stare at you, blue eyes ablaze like a furnace.

Finally deciding you needed more information; you stay late after school to look up any information you could find on the house and Satoru Gojo.

Your search doesn’t take you to a pretty sight as you open up a murderer catalog. The article tells of Satoru Gojo, a man who killed his girlfriend and then himself in the very same house after finding out she was leaving him for another. You almost couldn’t believe that the Satoru you knew was a murderer, but when you think back about how he so easily tossed your classmate to the wind, you start to find it easier to believe, and it begs a question that you’re not sure you want to know the answer to as you think back to that morning six years ago.

You go home late that evening, as you did every evening recently, and see Gojo waiting for you right at the door.

“There you are! Where’ve you’ve been? I’ve been so bored!” he complains as you sit your backpack down.

“Sorry,” you say, your heart racing in your chest as you catch his gaze. “I had to stay late to study.”

“Again? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re avoiding me,” and you tense at the way he cocks his head at you and narrow his gaze into a glare.

You gulp. You want to ask Satoru about what you read at school, but you know you can’t tell him about that information, about how you know that he’s more dangerous than he let’s on, not until you figure out a way to deal with him.

“Of course not. I’m busy with college exams, that’s all,” you answer.

“Exams are so boring. Why don’t we play videogames instead?” he asks, and you quietly agree, walking to the living room with him.

As you sit on the couch and uses his powers to pull you into his lap, cuddling your body close, and he’s warm, real, almost human, but also colder than you ever remember.

October 31st, 2009

This day was always coming. The day you would leave Satoru. You’d always feared leaving him behind, but now you couldn’t wait to get away from him. Your father received a new job back in the city, and you were finally leaving the god-awful countryside.

But you also knew, you couldn’t just leave him be to do whatever he wanted to the next family that comes along. You had to trap him like he was before so he wouldn’t hurt anyone else.

You waited until you were alone to put your plan into action, you didn’t want to risk the chance of Satoru hurting your father when he undoubtedly gets angry for what you were about to do; and if you hesitated any longer, he’d figure out that you lied about finding a way to bring him to the city with you.

Satoru trailed behind you as you pack your bags and stack them downstairs along with the rest of the things important to you. Once you finally finish getting the last of what you were bringing with you, you return upstairs to your room, inwardly nervous and ready when Satoru comes in behind you.

“So, how exactly am I going to follow you? Is it some kind of possession deal, oh, maybe attachment? That’s more of a demon skill though,” he muses, and you sigh, relaxing your shoulders.

“Satoru, we’re moving, and you’re not coming with us.”

He scowls. “Didn’t I teach you that jokes should be funny?”

“It’s not a joke. You’re staying here.”

Immediately, you feel the temperature drop, and he narrows his eyes at you, unable to comprehend why of all times you’d betray him like this. “No, I know you. You promised, you promised if you ever left that you’d find a way to take me with you.”

“That was before I knew who you were. Satoru, you’re a bad person, and we both know it.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. You’re alone because you hurt people. You were imprisoned because you hurt people, like my classmate.”

Satoru straightens the scowl on his face, turning it into a remorseful sorrowful expression instead as he steps closer to squeeze your shoulders. “If this is about that baseball bastard, I’m sorry. I got a little worked up, I admit. I promise to make it up to you. I’ll get you sweets or flowers or something.”

You shake his hands off you and distance yourself, moving to get a better angle to your door. “This isn’t something you can fix by bringing me candy! I’m not a child anymore, and it’s not only about him but also about her too. My mom, where is she?”

“(Name),” he begins, his voice dangerously low, threatening you not to pry where you’re not wanted. “You don’t want to do this.”

“Where is she!?”

“Under the house,” he answers, not one bit of care in his voice as he confesses, and he hums as if trying to remember, “At least her bones, maybe the clothes? I’m sure the worms have already taken care of the rest.”

Tears prickle at your eyes. You knew it. You absolutely knew it, and you rasp out, “How could you?”

“How could I?” he repeats. “I killed that bitch for us. She was always nasty to you, and she was going to take you away from me, back to the city, and that no good cuck father of yours would’ve let her.”

“Unbelievable,” you growl, reaching into your back pocket to grasp your hand around the black cylinder you prepared, “This is exactly why you don’t deserve to leave this place.”

“(Name), you can’t do this to me,” he says, and he’s frantic now, trying to reason with you where there’s no excuse. “You can’t leave me here. I’m your best friend, aren’t I? Best friends forever means forever.”

“You’re not my best friend,” you tell him sharply, “I’m leaving, and you’re staying here.”

“I know you don’t mean that,” he says defiantly, his entire body shaking as the remaining objects in the room begin to tremble.

“You think?” You flash him the little cylinder in your hand, big bold white letters reading “salt” on it. You go towards the door and already you’re starting to draw a line on the frame. “I’ve already salted all the windows.”

“(Name), don’t you dare. You can’t leave me. I will not be alone again. I will not.”

“Don’t worry. I’m leaving Carmen here. She looks enough like me. She can be your new best friend. Although, she can’t really talk or tell jokes like I can,” you mock, merciless to his remaining feeling. Sucking in a hard breath, he closes his eyes. When he opens them again, they’re draining with thin black ink.

It’s probably the first time you’ve seen him shed tears, and it’ll hopefully be the last as you come close to creating a thick barrier. “I don’t want to hurt you, but you’re starting to make me angry.”

“Too bad.”

You finish off the line, a victorious smirk on your face as you look at him on the other side of it, fists clenched to his side as black tears descend to the floor. It doesn’t scare you though at least until you see the glow of dangerous turquoise on you, hurt and angry, and it takes you back to the day you first felt chills at seeing those eyes.

“(Name), it’s natural for friends to fight, so if you apologize now, I’ll forgive you.”

You spit in his direction. “Bite me, Casper.”

The house begins to shake and the vases in the hall float in the air as he stalks to the doorway. “You’re going to regret that,” he hisses out, it sounds nothing like the playful voice you’d always known. It was darker, almost demonic, and you’re hit with a rush of energy that knocks you to your feet. “I’m much too strong for that to work on me now,” he tells you, and you see it’s true as the barrier you once hoped to trap him in starts to slowly blow away from the energy swirling off him. “The veil between the living and dead is always thin on this day,” he mutters to himself, pursing his lips together, and your heart sinks. You’ve heard before that on Halloween, the realms between the living and the dead are closer together, but you didn’t particularly believe in it until he says, “It’s probably enough to pull you through.”

Seeing your plan fail, your only hope left now is to get off the property. No matter what, he still has to be connected to it. He wouldn’t have panicked so much about you leaving him here otherwise if he had the means to escape it.

With no time to waste, you stumble to your feet and run as fast as you can down the hall, but he’s trailing you closely every foot of the way.

“You shouldn’t have betrayed me, (Name).”

You ignore his callings and continue down the stairs, you’re so close to the door, the handle easily within grabbing distance. As soon as you touch it, you feel a surge of strength behind you. Your hair is gripped in between his fingers, and your head goes forward against the brown wood, once, twice, and the third time your consciousness gives out, and you slump to the floor as it all goes black.

November 3rd, 2009

The countryside is a nice place, much nicer than the city. There’s nothing but wide, rolling fields and friendly people, and maybe the occasional story about the haunted house on the backroad.

But scary stories are just that, stories.

The real horror is the news of a murder in the small town, of the worried whispers that spread through the once safe community about the husband that murdered his wife, and the daughter that still hasn’t been found.

But if people went to that house and went into the storage room on the second floor then they’d find you, stuck somewhere between the real world and the immeasurable void of the spiritual plane that lies beyond it, your hand pressed to the cold glass as you watch the blue and red light of police cars disappearing in the distance.

Maybe if you would have kept to the rule of not talking to strangers, this could have been avoided.

It’s too late to dwell on that though as you hear the echoing of footsteps behind you and see the glowing of blue eyes reflected in the broken vanity as Satoru steps closer and places a hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t worry, angel, you still have me, and I’ll never leave you.”

[brianllamawrites]

Sleep Paralysis Opossum (Nash Wells x Reader)

A/N: Had a few sleep paralysis experiances back when I wrote the first draft of this, (turns out its a bit more spooky-er than it sounds). Although, the last one I had genuinly was a opossum that hissed at me lmao!

Word Count: 1318

Tagging: @ageless-aislynn @khayrrilrainxwells @mcbenson25-blog

With a strong grip on the windowsill, Nash cautiously climbed through your bedroom window and lowered himself to the floor; his dark silhouette blended in with the shadows cast across the room from the streetlights outside. Peering over to the still covered figure on the bed, he smiled at his skills to break into your flat without waking you up.

Nash didn’t have any malicious intent, of course. He never intended for anything like this to happen. But out of everyone at team Flash, you were the only one who offered him a real bed instead of a few blankets and the STAR Labs sofa. After all the trouble you had gone to to make him feel less like an outsider, he had started to warm up to you, which was why he couldn’t bring himself to wake you up when he had misplaced his keys. Anyway, after helping him clean up the mess he’d made in the guest bedroom without complaints – you had been quick to accept that being a myth-buster often warranted a chaotic environment – you looked exhausted, so letting you sleep was probably for the best.

Thankfully, your room wasn’t such a bombsite, so there was no need to tiptoe around any sort of crystals or half-built circuits scattered on the floor. All Nash needed to do was sneak across to the door and he’d be in the clear. Just a few more steps and…

THWACK.

“OW!” yelled Nash as something slammed against him.

The room filled with a soft, warm glow as the bedside lamp flicked on. The light illuminated a bent over myth-buster who was rubbing his side.

“Nash?!” Your startled demeanour quickly changed into annoyance as you saw the scrunched up face of the intruder.

Nash picked up the object at his feet and stood to face you. “You threw a book at me?” He frowned. “What, did you think I was a monster or something?”

You hesitated. “Kinda… Or, oh, I don’t know, a burglar?”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t keep your bedroom window unlocked.”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t sneak through people’s windows in the middle of the night! I gave you a key to the front door anyway, what are you even doing?”

“Ah, uhh–” Nash stuttered and rubbed the back of his neck, you always saw him as a confident, witty, and utterly annoying friend – Your own words. It was one of the nicer descriptions he had gotten from team Flash and a description that was subject to change if you knew why he couldn’t use the door key you gave him.

“So, these monsters,” he said, “why are you kinda expecting them?”

You crossed your arms. “I asked you something first.”

“I asked you something second.”

“I’m not speaking until you tell me why you broke into the place you’re already living in.”

Nash huffed. You were as stubborn as he was and he was smart enough to know when he wasn’t going to win.

“I was on the roof stargazing… And I decided the quickest way back here was through the window. Besides,” he said, “I’m too cool to use doors.”

You rolled your eyes. Whatever the truth was, you knew it had to be stupit. Idiot. Straightening your back, you stiffened. It was your turn to share. Perhaps sharing your problems with just one person couldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

“I get sleep paralysis,” you said. “It’s been getting worse recently and I’ve seen some… stuff.”

Nash nodded. Ever since he lost Maya, his already questionable sleep pattern became worse and the sleep deprivation led to a few experiences of sleep paralysis for himself. At first, it was fascinating. But after a few weeks of being completely frozen in place, defenceless from whatever monsters and creatures that might visit him, the experiences became tiresome and rather unpleasant. It didn’t take long for him to find a solution to it, he’d be damnd if he let his own mind torture him in his sleep. Unfortunately, this earth didn’t have crystal mountains that grew special tea leaves that guaranteed a good night’s sleep.

“I understand,” said Nash.” Do you want to talk about it?”

“About the shadow demons that run around my room and try to pull me out of bed?” You shifted, pulling your duvet around your waist. “I always wake up before they get me so… I’ll be fine.”

Taking a moment to think, Nash wandered over and took a seat next to you on the bed – a strange gesture, but not one you were opposed to. His cold jacket pressed against the hot skin of your arm and you could smell the crisp night air from his hair. You always loved that about Nash, you could feel the adventures he’d been on just by being by his side.

“You know, I’ve had some pretty weird sleep paralysis creatures come after me.”

You leaned into his side. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm. I was on a boat, in the middle of the second biggest river on my earth’s Mars, sleeping in a hammock. I was woken up by a opossum.”

“A possum?”

“It hissed at me.”

Glancing away, you pressed your lips together to keep your smirk at bay.

“It jumped on my arm and I couldn’t move,” Nash continued. “Of course, all martians are telepaths so everyone knew what was happening and let that opossum have a staring contest with me for ten whole minutes!”

You looked back over to him and as soon as your eyes met, you burst out in laughter.

“Oh. I was mocked by Martians and a hypnopompic hallucinated opossum, and you find that funny?

You shook your head and pressed your lips together again. But, despite any attempts you made to hide it, Nash could clearly see the smile on your face – it was a far better sight than the weary, tired look you had when he first arrived.

“What?” you asked, seeing the pondering look on Nash’s face.

“Maybe it’s best if I stayed in here for the night.” He could see you getting ready to make up an excuse so he quickly thought of his own. “I mean, anyone could come through that window whilst you sleep. Trust me. The architecture of the bricks on this building makes it not that hard to climb.”

“... What?”

Nash bit his tongue. Perhaps, that was a bit much.

You scrambled out of bed and headed straight for your window, closing it and double–checking that it was definitely locked. Looking back at Nash, awkwardly crossing his legs on your bed, you could really see how dark your room actually was – particularly the corners which looked like the perfect place for shadows and other such nighttime creatures to accumulate in. Foolishly, you peeked back outside at the bricks; they did look awfully climbable.

Damnit Nash.

The regret on his face was quite apparent, but you knew he didn’t mean any harm. Unfortunately, there was no way you were going to get a good night’s sleep anytime soon, not with a new nightmare fuel your brain was putting together. Although, that didn’t mean you had to spend the night alone in the dark.

“How tired are you,” you asked.

“Well, I just spent the past three hours drinking coffee, on your roof, trying to stargaze past the light pollution. Safe to say, I can stay up a lot longer than you’re probably willing to.”

“Oh? Is that a challenge?”

Nash folded his arms across his chest and smirked. “Maybe it is.”

“In that case, how does–” you looked at the time on your bedside alarm clock “–two AM pizza and a movie marathon sound?”

Pushing himself off your bed, Nash leaned against the wall in front of you. You found yourself grinning right back at his stupid smirk.

“I think,” he said, “it sounds way better than worrying about hallucinated opossums.”

[luminnara]

It’s Been a Long, Long Time | Ch 6

Summary:  When HYDRA had their prized asset, the Winter Soldier, they did something no one ever thought was possible: they gave super soldier serum to an omega. With the sole purpose of tending to him during his ruts, she spends decades living in HYDRA facilities, denied her humanity and her life. Now, years later, Bucky Barnes has his mind and his own life back...and the last thing he ever expects is to see a familiar omega again. Bucky/OC, a little angsty but mostly smutty/fluffy/romantic!

Part One | ... | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

Tags:  @kyrah-williams @oceanmermaidwitch @shawnie--jo @super-cape @ferxaniti @namjoonwatcheshentai @fandomsstolemylife00 @youngblood199456 @nightlygiggless @darlingely @ bluemoon-icecream @kaz11283 @jenjen8675309 @dollfacev8 @witchinpractice @mystical-b3ar @sukeraa

Bucky refused to leave the omega’s side while she stayed in the lab. Bruce had to stop him from trying to crawl onto the bed with her, and after about the third time, he convinced the super soldier to just pull up a chair like a civilized person and hold her hand while she drifted off to sleep again. Now that she was with her alpha, she had settled down for another nap, more interested in resting than answering any more questions so long as Bucky stayed and kept an eye on her. 

Steve had to admit, it was endearing. He had never seen his friend so absolutely enraptured like this. Whenever the omega, or Ten, as Bruce was still calling her, shifted in her sleep, Bucky’s eyes were snapping over to make sure that she was okay. Whenever she let out a little whimper, he was purring and stroking her hair. Whenever she seemed like she might wake up again, his attention was completely on her.

“So...sure you don’t remember her?” Steve asked, pulling up a chair. He had left for a few hours to work out, and after a lack of updates from FRIDAY, he headed back down to check on everything. They were exactly as he had left them, which was a good sign. At least nothing was getting out of hand. 

Yet.

Bucky shrugged, rubbing the back of the omega’s hand with his thumb. “I dunno. It’s...foggy.”

“Well, it seems to me like you’ve either got a history together, or she’s mistaking you for someone else.” Steve said. “Quite frankly, it’s hard to do the latter.”

“I’ve dreamt of her.” Bucky said quietly. 

“...what?”

“It’s not much, but...I’ve seen her face.” Bucky looked down at her. “I think that no matter how many times HYDRA wiped my memory, she’s always been in there. Kinda like the one constant that was always around, the one thing I could always count on being in the base with me.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Steve asked.

“Never knew if she was real or not.” Bucky sighed. “I thought...maybe she was just something my mind made up to fill some of the gaps. But she smells exactly like I remember.”

Steve sat back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched his friend. Bucky wasn’t snarling anymore, most of his attention trained on the omega while she slept. Now that he was close to her, he had calmed down significantly, though he still wouldn’t let Steve within five feet of her bed. 

“Just got off the phone with Tony,” Bruce announced, walking in. “He and Pepper will be back tonight. Pepper’s having some clothes and personal items delivered for our new omega friend here. They also asked about renovating a more permanent room for her, but I, uh...told them I wasn’t exactly sure what the situation would be.”

“She’s staying with me,” Bucky said immediately. 

“Now hang on, hang on,” Steve leaned forward. 

“Steve,” Bucky growled. “I want her with me.”

“Buck, you don’t even know her—“

Bucky interrupted him with a loud snarl, the omega in question whining and squirming in her sleep at the sound of it. 

He immediately shut up, brushing a thumb over her cheek and shushing her until she was sleeping soundly again. Fuck, he felt so stupid. What was wrong with him? She could have woken up, or been scared, or upset, all because he couldn’t keep his big mouth shut. She needed her rest, and he needed to stay quiet. 

Steve almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing. 

“Oh, Buck,” he shook his head. “You’re in deep.”

—

Amoretta woke feeling well rested, and it wasn’t until she tried to stretch and felt the tug of her IV drip that she remembered where she was. Opening her eyes revealed the bright lights of the lab, and as she started to sit up, a few faces came into view.

“Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty,” Bruce said. “How are you feelin’?”

She licked her lips. “Juice box. Now.”

“Way ahead of you. Had this one waiting as soon as you started waking up.” He tossed one to her and was pleased when her hand shot up to catch it. “Reflexes look good. Vitals are all reading normal. I’ll have to run another test to see what’s going on with those suppressants, but I’m willing to bet you’re metabolizing them fairly quickly now. How are you feeling?”

She pulled the little straw off the back of the carton and jammed it into the top. “Nauseous. Like usual.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Side effect of the suppressants?”

“Always has been. Other than that...I feel great, actually.”

“Well, as soon as these wear off, we can figure out something nicer and more modern for you. If you want to use them, I mean.” Bruce shrugged. “Your choice.”

She smiled. “Choice. I like that.”

“Hey, we’re all about independence here,” Steve said happily. He was glad to see she was awake, even though Bucky wasn’t.

The other alpha was still at her side, but, as of about half an hour ago, he was napping. Steve made a mental note to never let him forget the way he slept straight through the one moment he had been waiting for all day. 

“What time is it?” She asked. “There’s no windows in this damn place.”

“Just after dinner,” Bruce chuckled. “You slept most of the day. Bucky hasn’t left your side.”

She looked over to her soldier, smiling warmly at the sight of him sleeping. He was even snoring softly. “I haven’t gotten to see this in forty years.”

“Did you two, uh…” Steve cleared his throat. “Spend a lot of time together?”

The omega laughed. “You always this awkward around girls?”

“That’s not—“

“Relax, I’m just giving you a hard time.” She sucked on her straw. “But...yeah, we did.”

“So...you were just kept for his ruts, or…” Steve was so awkward it was almost endearing. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong. I think.”

“It’s okay. I know my lot in life.” She kept her eyes trained on Bucky as she spoke. “But if I’m going to answer more questions, I want to get out of this bed. And I want real clothes. Then I’ll talk.”

And so, only several minutes later, Bruce was handing her a sweater and some shorts he had grabbed from a little stash of extra clothing, and Bucky was startled awake by Ten stepping past him. She was finally free from all the tubes and cords that had been sticking out of her during her little hospital stay, and she was all too eager now to explore the tower.

She stood on wobbly legs, almost falling onto him when she tried to take a step. Bucky was up in a flash, ready to catch her, and as she fell against his chest, he wrapped his arms around her. Despite just waking up, he felt fully alert, completely ready to tend to his omega’s every need. 

His omega...he liked that train of thought. 

“We can head up to the common area. It should still be quiet.” Steve said, leading the way out. 

Bucky kept an arm around his omega’s waist as they followed, Bruce bringing up the rear. He wanted to be touching her at all times, constantly in contact so that he couldn’t lose track of her. His instincts were roaring to life, demanding that he do everything in his power to make sure that she was safe and in his line of sight. The elevator ride was tense and full of possessive growling, Bucky constantly shoving Ten behind him to keep her in the corner and as far away from Steve as possible, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief when the doors slid open and they could step out of the cramped space again. 

The common area was empty, thankfully, FRIDAY informing them that the other Avengers were all either working out or in their private quarters. 

“Good,” Steve said, heading towards the couches. “No interruptions. Got it, FRIDAY?”

“Understood, Captain Rogers.”

“C’mere,” Bucky mumbled, pulling his omega down to sit on one of the couches with him. Part of him was feeling a little sheepish and self conscious of his behavior...but the rest of him didn’t give a shit. The others could stare and shake their heads all they wanted, but he’d be damned if he let Ten slip through his fingers again. 

Or whatever her name was. 

Steve and Bruce sat across from them, making sure that they left as much space as possible between themselves and the new omega. Neither of them had ever seen Bucky behaving quite like this--he was on guard, hyper aware of everything around him. He made sure that she was pressed up against his side, an arm draped possessively over the back of the couch so that it was unmistakable that she was with him.

Christ, what had gotten into him? He couldn’t remember ever acting this way about an omega before. 

“So…” Steve cleared his throat, sitting with his elbows resting on his knees.

Bucky didn’t really like the way his posture made him lean forward towards his omega, but he could deal with it for now. “So.”

“What do you wanna know?” Ten asked, plucking at Bucky’s shirt. She seemed to be even clingier with him than he was with her, perfectly happy to be hanging off him or tucked up against his side. “You met my demands. I guess I’m an open book now.”

“I don’t want to overstep my bounds,” Steve said. “We just need to know as much as you’re willing to share.”

“Then ask a question.”

“...Alright.” he cleared his throat again. “You said HYDRA used you to help with Bucky’s ruts?”

Ten nodded, her expression remaining even and cool. 

“Could you tell us more about that?” Steve glanced at Bucky. “Were there ever any other omegas, or anyone we should know about?”

“There were omegas before me.” she answered. “When I first got to the compound, there were a lot of us. They kept us all in big cells, so everyone talked. People said things about how HYDRA was grabbing omegas off the street for their super soldiers, and how the one at our base was the biggest and scariest.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow at her tone. He wasn’t exactly sure what he expected her to sound like while she regaled them with her life story, but he definitely thought there would be a tad bit more apprehension in her voice. She seemed proud of herself, and more matter-of-fact than a lot of omegas would be while talking about their alpha’s previous partners. Or...whatever you called prisoners whose only purpose was to help during ruts.

“And I bet he was,” she sighed, leaning her cheek on Bucky’s chest and looking up at him adoringly. 

“Well, I don’t know about that…” Bucky said, an almost shy smile on his lips. And...was he actually blushing?

Steve was going to lose his mind. 

“You said the other omegas couldn’t handle it? That’s why you were given the serum?” he prompted, trying to keep them on track before he drowned in the sticky sweetness of her happy pheromones. 

“Right.” she turned her attention back to Steve and Bucky let out a quiet huff. “HYDRA didn’t really like to take care of us. And the soldier--I mean, Bucky--would wear them out. So...HYDRA would just kind of let them go. Or put them down, maybe. I never saw it.”

Bucky’s expression dropped. His blush was gone, and he almost looked like he was going to be sick as he listened to her talk.

“But it wasn’t his fault,” she said quickly, glancing between him and Steve. “I don’t think it was ever on purpose, you were just...demanding.”

He gave a groan, leaning his head back against the couch. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it, doll. I’d rather know what I did, at this point.”

She offered a small shrug. “I don’t really remember it being that bad, but I don’t think I ever met you before they gave me the serum.”

“That’s something, at least.” he mumbled, dragging a hand down his face. 

“Why you?” Steve asked. “Did you have any prior military experience, any ties to something the others didn’t?”

“No.” she laughed. “I never even got in fights before HYDRA.”

“Then why’d they use such an important resource on you, specifically? Not trying to take a dig at you, it’s just...well, omegas don’t usually…”

“I know,” she said. “Omegas aren’t supposed to be tough, right? That’s why they only ever let alphas become super soldiers.”

“That’s not what I…” Steve trailed off and then sighed. “Sorry.”

“I told you, they gave me the serum so that I would be strong enough to hold my own. It also ensured I would always be around, no matter how many years passed.” Her fingers found Bucky’s free hand and she took it, absentmindedly playing with the smooth vibranium knuckles. “Having me as a constant meant they could stop spending so much time and effort on always having a new omega around for him. Plus…well, I wasn’t really there, but I heard something about it once…”

“What?” Bucky asked. 

“They let you choose who was going to become your omega.” She said, looking up at him. “They gave you a bunch of scents, and you chose mine. I guess it was the only reason they didn’t, uh...humanely euthanize me.”

His eyes were wide. The thought of HYDRA killing his omega brought a low growl to his throat, his chest rumbling with the vibrations of it. “No.”

“Well, clearly they didn’t!” She said brightly. “My file said I was a kicker.”

“So they gave you, an already aggressive omega, the serum, but never gave you any trigger words or fished around in your brain?” Bruce shook his head. “Surprisingly sloppy, considering who they are.”

“It’s not like they ever sent me out into the world. I stayed in my cell all day, unless I was needed for a rut. Then I went and stayed in a different cell.” She sighed. “And if they ever needed to, they could just use the alpha to grab me.”

Bucky clearly didn’t like the thought of that. He made a frustrated sound, leaning his head back again. “Great.”

“It was never bad.” She let go of his hand, moving her fingers to cup his jaw. “You never hurt me. You wouldn’t. Sometimes, when I acted up, they would make you go retrieve me, because they knew you were the only one who could do it. If they didn’t send you, they would just knock me out.”

“So...that was it?” Steve asked. “Ruts, serum, cryo?”

“For thirty years!” She chirped. “The last time they froze me, they were freezing him, too. They always tried to keep us in cryo at the same time so that I could be thawed out and ready when he needed me. But...I guess they just...left me there?” She frowned. 

“See, that’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.” Steve said. “I didn’t see any signs of a struggle at that base. I’d say they left in an orderly fashion, but the fact that they didn’t take you along makes me think they were in more of a hurry than they made it seem.”

“Natasha might have a better idea,” Bruce suggested. “We can talk to her, try to figure out—“

“FRIDAY, open the damn door or so help me God I will rewrite your entire personality.” A voice interrupted from the other side of the door. 

“I’m sorry, Tony, but Captain Rogers asked me not to.” The AI said. 

“Well, is it an emergency?” The man scoffed.

“No emergency measures have been executed. No security breaches have been identified.”

“Then I’m sorry, but Captain Rogers does not outrank me when it comes to my own robots. Open the door, beautiful.”

She seemed to sigh. “Very well, Mr. Stark.”

Ten perked up, leaning forward slightly. She was watching the door curiously, tilting her head a little when she heard it slide open. Bucky rolled his eyes, grumbling to himself quietly and pulling her up against his side as another alpha strode in. 

“Really? Having a party without me?” the man asked, a smooth, casual air about him as he walked in and looked at everyone on the couches. When his eyes landed on the omega cuddled up next to Bucky, he stopped. “Ah, is this our new guest?”

“Go away, Stark.” Bucky growled. He didn’t like how long the other man’s gaze was lingering on his omega, not when there weren’t any scars on her neck to show who she belonged to.

“Always such a charmer, Barnes.” Tony said, flopping down next to Steve. “Lovely to see you, too. Care to introduce me to your friend? ….No, you’d rather just snarl and forget your words? I knew you were old, but I didn’t realize you were actually a caveman.”

“Tony,” Bruce groaned. “Don’t aggravate him. Please.”

“Why not?” Tony leaned back against the cushions, completely at ease and totally happy to be pressing every one of Bucky’s buttons. 

“Are you Tony Stark?” Ten asked, wiggling out of Bucky’s grip to sit on the edge of their couch. 

Bucky caught her around the waist before she could get very far, though, and dragged her onto his lap. He loomed over her, sneering dangerously at Tony as the other alpha flashed a smile. 

“Bingo.” he said. 

“I never thought I’d meet a Stark,” she admitted. “I always heard about Stark Industries, but I lived too far away from any big cities to ever get to see any of his exhibitions.”

“Ah. You’re from my father’s time. Of course.” Tony shot a pointed glare in Bucky’s direction. “Seems like Bruce left out a few teensy weensy important details on the phone today.”

“Well, it’s been, uh...an ongoing learning experience.” Bruce said sheepishly. 

“Lots of developments, huh?” Tony raised an eyebrow. 

“You could say that.” Steve said under his breath. “We came up here so Ten could be more comfortable while we talk.”

“Oh yeah? What’re we talkin’ about?” Tony asked. 

“They were asking about my time with HYDRA,” she answered, cutting in before anyone else could. “And with...Bucky.”

Saying his name felt odd. Her tongue wasn’t used to it, and her mind wanted to call him alpha, or Winter Soldier. Bucky just seemed so…casual, such a strange thing to call a deadly super soldier. When she heard herself, though, she decided that she definitely didn’t hate it. 

Bucky’s heart gave a little leap at the sound of his name falling from her lips. He wanted her to say it over and over again, in whispers and in screams, for nobody else’s ears but his. 

“...Buck?” Steve asked, pulling him away from his thoughts. “You, uh, kinda zoned out there.”

It wasn’t until Bucky looked at Steve that he realized his eyes had been trained on the omega in his lap. “Yeah?”

“...Is this seriously how you’ve spent the past day and a half?” Tony asked. “Steve, I’m sorry, and I’m sure you’re just trying to be as helpful as you can be, like always, but I think you should let these two get a room.”

Steve looked at him incredulously. “Tony, really? I’m trying to get to the bottom of why exactly HYDRA would abandon the omega they pumped full of super soldier serum. They can get a room later—“

“Yeah, uh, wonder boy? I don’t think your pal is gonna last much longer before he tries to rip our heads off.” Tony nodded towards a very disgruntled Bucky. “You can resume your interrogation tomorrow, Cap.”

Steve looked to Bruce for help, but he only offered a small shrug and stood, heading towards the door. “He’s right, Steve. They deserve some alone time.”

“But—hey!” Steve protested as Bucky picked his omega up, striding past the two alphas sitting on the opposite couch. 

“Thanks for everything, Steve.” Bucky said over his shoulder. 

Ten squirmed, peeking around Bucky’s arm as she was carried away. “Bye, Mr. Stark!”

“Don’t look at him,” Bucky growled as they walked out the door. 

“Did his father really make hoverboards? I heard once that Howard was promising hoverboards—“

“No.” He said flatly. 

“...oh.” She huffed, slumping against him. “Where are we going?”

“My apartment.” Bucky stepped into the elevator, his grip still tight around her. 

The omega perked up. “You have a whole apartment?”

He puffed his chest out a little. “Course I do. Gotta have a nice place for you, don’t I?”

“So I can stay?” Her eyes were bright and happy. “I can stay there, with you, all the time? Not just when you rut?”

He felt a sad little pang in his heart. When he spoke again, his voice was low and soft. “Of course, sweetheart.”

Then, his eyes widened as he realized what he was saying. “I mean, uh...i-if you want to, that is. I know it’s fast and all, and maybe...would you rather have your own room? Or I can stay on the couch—“

“Bucky,” she cut him off with a laugh, a soft hand cupping his jaw. “You’ve been my alpha for seventy years. I’d say we’re actually moving pretty slow.”

His expression relaxed again, lips stretching into a small smile. “Right. Yeah. You’re right.”

They spent the rest of the elevator ride in comfortable silence, Bucky rubbing his scent glands all over her hair. He wanted to make sure that the next time they encountered anyone else, she smelled exactly like him.

Like her alpha.

When the elevator came to a gentle stop at Bucky’s floor, the doors opened, and he stepped out in front of his apartment door. It opened for him, having already scanned his biometrics, revealing a small, but cozy, living room. 

He set his omega down on her feet, watching anxiously as she stepped into his quarters. Did she like it? Fuck, was it too small? It was too small. She probably hated it. Fuck, fuck, fuck...he had to salvage this somehow. 

“Well, uh…” shit, he sounded too nervous. He wanted her to think he was a strong, capable alpha. 

He cleared his throat for another start. “Welcome home, Omega.” 

Wait. That wasn’t right. Should he be calling her that? No, probably not, it sounded too possessive, too uncaring. He wished he just knew her fucking name, or something. 

“I mean…Ten?”

Shit, he sounded so stupid. He wanted to impress her, not...do whatever this was.

She just laughed, though, turning and looking at him with those eyes that sparkled like starlight. “Amoretta. My name is Amoretta.”

[saabbi]

Regret part 10

Moonlit conversation

Genshin Impact Adeptus! reader

warnings: -

word count:~1.3k

notes: happy mid autumn festival! This chapter is purely about Childe and Tsarista.

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The Tsarista is hard to understand.

“Your highness?” the gingered male peeked into the dimly lit room carefully, making sure he's not disturbing his archon.

Deep blue eyes searched the room until they landed on a lonely figure by the window sill, silently gazing at the Snezhnaya waters.

The Tsarista looks back a bit, gesturing to him to come closer.

Childe obliges. He came to find her to have a talk, even if he has yet to figure out what to say. The Tsarista has been rather fickle lately, it seemed like she was making rash decisions.

Even though he knows the Tsarista always have everything planned out. The reasons behind her actions were surely ones a mortal like him couldn’t understand.

The Tsarista is hard to understand.

Not even her closest subordinates - harbingers, could see through her. All her thoughts are masked with the iconic smile, one not sinister nor genuine.

It’s just one without any emotions, an eerie and intimidating smile.

To say the least, the Tsarista is someone incredibly… calculating. Each step she takes, each word she utters, are all through careful consideration.

Fickle and unpredictable. No one could guess her next movement. She slips away like ice.

Which is why, small talk coming from her is completely uncalled for.

“The pier was lively today.” Her quiet and breathless voice caught Childe off guard, shoulders flinching at the unexpected voice.

Has the sun risen from the west? Has the snow melted in Snezhnaya?

Childe carefully observed the divine being, perturbed by her unusual behaviour.

Silky hair pale as snow, cold as ice. A sharp and glacy gaze that sends even the most arrogant humans shivering. Contrasting to her bitter cold appearance, a burning desire could be felt within her glacy pupils. A being said to be so ethereal that just one glance would captivate all men and women across Teyvat-

Except something was a bit different from usual. Childe rubbed his eyes to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him.

Is she…frowing? Could it even be considered a frown?

Very slightly, almost goes unnoticeable, was her furrowed brows and tired eyes that observed the pier.

Her usual smile remains, but less… stoic?

Not one necessarily of affection nor gentle, but rather… relieved?

The Tsarista mostly appear to be disinterested in a lot of things, usually displaying an indifferent attitude.

Yet somehow she feels expressive today.

As if her cold facade had faded just for a bit, walls thinned down just a little.

He feels it’d be okay to ask her.

“Your highness…” cautiously, while being wary of any change in her expression, “why did you...?”

Why did she do that to you? What was her intention in exiling you after draining every last bit of your power? Remains unsaid.

She glances at her harbinger once, before refocusing on the sea, watching the wobbly reflection of the moon in the gentle tides.

“There was no need to keep up the pointless charade, is there?” the words themselves are cold and harsh, but something lies beyond.

“It’s been far too long. That child has been by my side for so many years. ” Childe patiently waits for the Tsarista to continue. It seems that she is in the mood for talking today, willing to share more.

“My initial plan to utilise adeptus power has been met, there is simply no need to keep that child around any longer.” The soft moonlight basking her figure made her even paler.

The queen of Snezhnaya is hard to understand.

Her words were so subtle and ambiguous, hard to fully uncover the hidden meanings.

Childe may not be the brightest, but for some reason he thought he might just have a faint idea on what she’s conveying.

Archons make the mistakes too. He recalled what Zhongli once told him, when he was still naive enough to not realise his true identity.

Archons, deities with absolute authority. But the geo archon had him realising even divine beings feel remorse for their own actions.

But guilt doesn’t seem to be the right word to describe what the current Tsarista is feeling.

It’s something else, hiding deep behind those walls.

“Did you know? There’s a tradition in Liyue for families to reunite under the full moon, no matter how far they parted.” she gazes at the luminous full moon.

Snezhnaya’s queen does not have any love left for her people - a saying he had heard from somewhere long ago, describing the one and only ruler of his home.

Being an archon does not mean they’re perfect, nor can they protect all their loved ones. In Zhongli’s case, he learnt, would be giving up his beloved adeptus for the sake of his people, and losing close friends in the ancient war.

Then how about the Tsarista? She must have lost something precious too.

But that is not for him to butt into.

“I’m sure the weather would be nicer there, without the neverending snowstorms and hail.”

Does the Tsarista truly have no love left for her people?

“As a previous envoy to Liyue, I guarantee that it’s warm and cosy.” a cheeky grin started to form on his face, getting wider and wider.

But perhaps he already knows the answer.

The Tsarista lets out a soft hum at his response, somewhat sounding relieved.

“Your highness, did you know? Morax frequently forgets to bring mora…”

“And he bought a vase for 1 million mora, and I had to pay!”

“Then La Signora knocked Scaramouche’s hat off! He was so pissed!”

“And that moose-deer being talked! I had no idea it was an adeptus!”

Light chuckles and giggles filled the quiet atmosphere along with Childe’s innocent and non-stop rambling.

Just for today, it’s okay for her to drop her facade.

Maybe, the Tsarista is not as unfathomable.

An archon may not be so different from human mortals, after all.

“I’m sure that Zhongli and them are having a great time.” his grin so wide and bright, “that child, well, a child older than me, is finally back home after all.”

“Happy full moon day, your highness.”

“I believe the correct saying is ‘happy mid-autumn festival’, Tartaglia.”

Childe awkwardly rubbed his head and broke out into a loud laughter.

.

.

.

“Could you help me deliver something when you visit Liyue again?” She reaches into her pocket, pulling out a tarnished necklace.

One that is cracked, but pieces of it has been carefully assembled and glued together.

One that resembles the shape of a flower he hadn’t seen in Snezhnaya.

One that seems to be of very old age, considering the oxidized parts. It couldn’t be worth much. Who is the Tsarista giving this to?

“It’s something that child left behind.” Ah. A sudden realisation hits him. So it was not the Tsarista’s own belongings.

“What was done was inevitable for the final destination, I don’t regret it. Yet… that child has been with me for quite some time.”

“That child had quite a hard time. This… is something they held dearly before.” She points at the necklace, running her fingers over the flower. “I wasn’t sure how to give it back.”

So that was why the Tsarista held onto something that seemed so… worn out.

Even though Childe still disapproves of her actions towards you which caused you to suffer, he feels as if he gained a deeper understanding of his archon.

She is meant to be someone brutal who would commit atrocities just to achieve her goal, even if she believes it will lead to peace.

Perhaps that’s why she always kept a certain distance from you. The Tsarista has done terrible things, so, so many heartless and ruthless deeds.

Or maybe, the archons are just not good at communication. Childe huffs at his own thoughts, recalling both Zhongli’s and Tsarista’s expressions when talking about you.

Archons are just as imperfect as mortals are.

The archons sure are hard to understand.

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for extra info/drabbles on this series: #adeptus reader asks please feel free to send some asks as well :)

taglist [request to be added/removed in taglist, or send an ask] @deathkat657@porcosslvt@ryuukero@cruelstring@pandaquick@lill0w0@yoomi-omi@pidgeison@sugary03@creatorofstars@zaythetic@calfigaman@schleepyflocci @elephantasmosgocomics@yaesflorist@keiq0@heijeuxx@yamatosworld@yuuuumiiin@sangchu@stupefried@wouldyoulikesomepollen@candyqueen10@moonbintang@hiqhkey@hanniejji@photoglassuwu @normalisthenewnorm@just-some-stars@dearalatus@chinchillinbb@scoupshushushu@toshiswifey@sweetstrawberrybabe@lifenotgod@kztura@daphnyehh@alatusorrow@svftbunnie @nemuri-fictions@hydroyaksha Please tell me if I missed any one of you!! if someone changed their username and that’s why I couldn’t tag you, please by all means send in an ask/ comment on the original post to let me know!

[snelbz]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 24}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. Occasional surprise chapters could be posted at miscellaneous times. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

A/N: Sorry for the late post! My baby shower was today, so Tara and I have been extremely busy! Look for Chapter 25 on her blog on Monday!

Warning: 18+ content.

Cassian got to the restaurant and took a look around. There were people everywhere, bustling about, getting ready for the night’s grand opening.

It had become the talk of the town - and the local groups on the internet - so they were expecting a good turnout.

At least, that’s what Cassian’s guess was.

He hadn’t talked to Nesta since he stormed out two days before, with the exception of one text exchange.

Cassian had texted, Tell Nyx I love him and I will see him tomorrow.

Nesta had replied, Ok.

Now, he was searching for that tiny little man with a mop of dark, black hair.

When he finally found Nyx, he was in his stroller eating cheeto puffs off the tray. When he saw Cassian his eyes lit up and he was instantly reaching for him.

Cassian laughed as he unbuckled him from his stroller and picked him up, giving him the biggest hugs. “Hey, buddy. I missed you, too.”

“This is his third helping of cheetos,” Helion said, from where he leaned against the wall. “Sorry about the next diaper.”

Cassian chuckled. “All this going on and Nesta stuck you on baby duty?”

Even saying her name out loud hurt, but he didn’t let it show.

He gestured toward the kitchen and said, “She’s been here since six and she’s in one of her moods. I decided I’d rather be on baby duty than caught in the crossfire.”

He winced, figuring that didn’t bode well for the two of them today. “I’ll stay in the bar, then.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Helion replied, looking him up and down, before pushing the stroller behind the counter. Cassian had the distinct feeling he was looking for a crack in his armor. He didn’t bother telling him that he’d been broken for two days, and the only person who could fix him was currently yelling at some poor employee in the kitchen.

Cass crossed the threshold into the bar area and let out a low whistle. He’d had a hand in the design, but most of this was all Nesta. It accented the restaurant perfectly and he immediately loved the place.

“Nice, right?”

He turned to find Kallias carrying a tray of fresh glasses from the dish area and the smile on his friend’s face was infectious.

Cassian nodded as Kallias said hello to Nyx. “Yeah, it looks amazing.”

Kallias nodded. “You and Nesta did good.”

“Thanks,” Cassian muttered, not wanting the conversation to go any further. “How long have you been here?”

“Just got here,” Kallias said, as Nyx started playing with the strings on Cassian’s hoodie. “Viv will be here soon to help out. She said she can watch Nyx while we work.”

Cassian nodded. “That would be great.”

It would be helpful, of course, to have Viviane help out watching Nyx. Cassian had a ton to get done in the next six hours before the opening began. He didn’t want to let Nyx go, though. Two days. It was the longest he had been away from Nyx since...everything happened.

“Well, little man, until then, you get to help me unpack liquor bottles,” Cassian said, trying his best to sound excited.

Nyx giggled. “Ba ba ba ba ba ba.”

“Yeah, different kind of bottles,” Cassian chuckled, and carried Nyx with him into the back room.

Kallias had been at the bar for the past two days, getting most of the stock ready to go. A few texts to explain the situation was all he’d needed and Cassian was thankful he had such a loyal friend and coworker.

Elain hadn’t been as understanding the first night he’d been there, but after talking to Nesta, even she backed off. He had no clue what Nesta had said to her, but her frustration turned to sympathy and she was back to treating Cassian like the brother-in-law she loved and not like a man who’d hurt her sister.

After pulling the carrier out of Nyx’s stroller, he strapped the baby to his chest and set to work, carrying case after case of liquor up to the bar. Kallias was busy stocking the assorted glasses they’d need, so the two worked in silence for the most part.

He had just walked back into the store room, short one case of whiskey, when he heard Nesta talking from the dry pantry separating the store room and kitchen. Cassian’s heart lurched and he was about to make his way back into the bar, but Nyx squealed as he heard her voice.

The swinging door flew open as Nesta hurried into the store room, wondering how Nyx had gotten in there in the first place. She froze when she found Cassian there. Their eyes locked and she blinked.

“Hey, Nes,” he said, quietly.

“I…didn’t know you were here,” she breathed.

He shrugged, turning back to the boxes of bottles. “Got here about an hour ago. Didn’t want to interrupt you.”

Nyx was reaching for her, so he unclipped the carrier and gave him to her. He giggled happily as soon as he was in Nesta’s arms, but she froze, unsure of what to say. “You should have let me know you were here.”

Another shrug. “You were busy, and I knew what I needed to do. Kal said Viv would be here later to watch him.”

She nodded, silence filling the space again.

Nyx pointed at Cassian, reaching for him. “Dada.”

Cassian stilled.

He opened his mouth to say something, then closed his mouth.

A second passed.

Then, at last, he said, “What did he just say?”

“Dada,” Nyx repeated, and clapped his hands together. He reached for Cassian. “Dada!”

Cassian took Nyx, although he was moving slowly, stunned into silence. Nesta watched as a thousand different emotions crossed his face.

“Dada?” Cassian breathed, looking from Nyx to Nesta. “He just called me-.”

“He’s been saying it for the past two days,” Nesta said, staring at a spot on the wall behind Cassian.

For a moment, Cassian didn’t say anything, but then he asked, “You didn’t bother to tell me that?”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed and she slowly met his gaze. “You left.”

“A simple text letting me know that Nyx said his first word wouldn’t’ve killed you,” Cassian snapped. “Especially since his first word was…” Cassian shook his head, that fury fading as quickly as it had come. He looked at Nyx and chuckled, softly. “Dada, hmm?”

“Dada,” Nyx said, taking Cassian’s face into his hands before patting his stubbled cheeks with his chubby little palms.

Cassian watched Nyx for a moment, chuckling softly, before asking Nesta, “Has he said anything else?”

Nesta shook her head, even though Cassian wasn’t looking at her. “Just that. Probably wondering where you were. He’s been saying it nonstop, after all.”

“I’m sorry, bud,” he said, softly. He kissed the top of his head. “I’m still right here though.”

He was about to buckle him back into the carrier when Nesta reached for him. “I can take him. You’ve got a lot to do.”

“No more than you,” he said, settling him back into the carrier. “And I’ve missed him. Viv will come see Kallias when she gets here. Let me keep him.”

Her hands fell to her sides. “Fine.”

The tiny room felt like it was closing in on him, looking at her. They were so close together, whether they wanted to be or not. Without another word, Cassian grabbed the closest box and shouldered his way back through the swinging door.

Kallias caught the look on his face as soon as he came back. “That must have been the first conversation you two have had.”

Cassian grunted in response, letting Nyx continue to pat at his face.

“And how’d it go?” He asked, leaning against the bar.

“About as well as you think.”

Kallias watched his old friend for a moment before nodding, deciding to let the conversation drop. Cassian was grateful for it.

He was thankful for Nyx, too, for an endless amount of reasons, but right now, he was a distraction. With Nyx here, he was only thinking about Nyx, not about Nesta.

Cassian spent the next couple of hours lining up liquor bottles, and when Viv got there, she happily took Nyx and let Cassian work.

Once Nyx began playing with Viviane, Cassian’s thoughts were once again on the last person he wanted to be thinking about.

He continued to work, trying his best to keep his mind on that. It was kind of hard, though, when the owner of the restaurant was Nesta. He guessed he was part owner now, too - owner of the bar, anyway.

The hours flew by and by the time Cassian decided to check his watch, he realized he only had thirty minutes until the doors were opening for the main event.

He needed to get out of his old hoodie and into something nicer.

After making his way into the stockroom, he pulled off his hoodie before digging into his backpack for the black henley he’d brought. It wasn’t fancy by any means, but it was sure better than his ripped hoodie.

The door swung open as he was pulling his shirt over his head, and when he turned around, he saw Nesta, once again.

She stilled just in front of the door. “Are you planning on being in here every time I come in?”

It was meant to be a joke, something to lighten the mood, Cassian knew, but the light didn’t exactly reach her eyes.

He looked down at his shirt. “Just had to change. Didn’t think a hoodie was appropriate for an opening celebration.”

Nesta nodded, giving him a forced smile. “Couldn’t have gone all out with a button down?”

“This is Azriel’s,” he said. “All of my nicer things are at…home.”

He said the last word hesitantly.

Nesta’s eyes fluttered shut. He knew she was dying to say something, but what it was he couldn’t tell. He thought he knew her well enough to read her face. It seemed he was wrong though.

“I’ll come by and get my things on my day off this week,” he said, saving her the request. He pulled the Henley over his head, leaving his backpack against the store room wall. “You won’t even know I was there.”

“Cassian…”

He pushed back through the door without waiting to hear what she was going to say.

This was agony. Every moment of being around her hurt, because every time he saw her, he knew that he’d wasted the past three months of his life. He’d wasted his time falling in love with her, because she still hadn’t said it back.

“Dada!”

Nyx and Viv sat at one of the new tables, Nyx munching on some crackers, and even Kallias’ eyes dragged to him. Nyx’s blue eyes were the only ones he cared about though.

“That’s new,” Kallias said, from where he leaned across the bar.

Nyx’s new favorite word was one of the few things that had made him smile all day. Even if it tore him apart at the same time.

He didn’t mind Nyx calling him that. He was still too young to understand what had happened to Rhys. So one day, he’d explain to him who he really was, and who Rhys was. But until then, he was content to be Dada.

Cassian lifted him out of the high chair he was in and smiled, wistfully. “Hey, buddy.”

On the other side of the room, Nesta pushed through the double doors and into the restaurant, making sure everything was in order as the clock ticked down.

Cassian couldn’t keep his eyes off of her.

He wondered if she knew.

*

This was the biggest night that Nesta had in quite some time. A new bar would be amazing for business, and she was expecting a hell of a crowd.

And she wasn’t disappointed.

At exactly six, people began to pour in. They sat, and they ate, and by the Mother, they drank. She was amazed at how well Nyx was doing. She kept expecting to see him sleeping in a corner with Viviane, but he was being passed around to Viv, Kallias, Helion, and Cassian, having the time of his little life.

Nesta was glad someone was enjoying their night.

She should be enjoying her night, should be pumped at the booming business, but she could hardly focus.

All she could think about was him.

Cassian.

Every time she even got a glimpse of him, she wanted to run into his arms and tell him that she loved him. But she couldn’t do that. She had no clue what the repercussions of their relationship would do to Nyx, especially if something were to happen. If they were to break up, would this be their future? Barely speaking, passing the kid back and forth, both of them in misery?

Even when Elain and Azriel got there, both giving her hugs and warm smiles, the one on her face wasn’t real. She knew Elain could tell, knew she wanted to pull her aside, get the whole story, and quite possibly talk some sense into her, but she wouldn’t.

She couldn’t.

Not tonight.

As much as she tried to spend most of her time in the dining room, greeting guests and asking how they liked the drinks and new menu items, she kept ending up in the kitchen.

She got word that there had been a small grease fire on the line and she was about to rush into the kitchen when Helion stepped in front of her.

“Take a breath.”

“I can’t,” she replied, pulling her hair back off of her face. “There was a fire and-.”

“And it’s under control,” he said, gripping her by the shoulders. “It’s been put out, and I can go deal with Emrys and Luca and any potential fallout. Go have a drink, relax with your sister. You deserve a glass of wine and a moment to sit down.”

Nesta hesitated, but Helion wasn’t having it.

“Go,” he said. “Kallias is currently manning the bar. Go order a drink before the next wave of people come along.”

With a huff, Nesta nodded and exited the kitchen. True to Helion’s word, it was Kallias that was behind the bar. The second he saw Nesta coming, he was pouring a glass of wine.

She took a sip as soon as she reached the counter. “Vodka.”

Kallias blinked, then obliged her. He poured her a shot, Nesta downed it and thanked him, then took her glass of wine around the room to greet people. She eventually found Elain and Azriel, and was getting ready to take a seat by them, until she noticed Cassian already sitting with them, Nyx in his lap.

Bypassing their table, she gave them both an apologetic smile, before redirecting herself towards the bar. She breezed past it and Kallias, draining her wine and leaving it by the sink, before she entered the store room.

Cassian must have handed the baby off to Elain or Viviane, because not even a few seconds later, he was right behind her.

“Is this how it’s gonna be, Nes?” He asked, not stopping until he was right in front of her. “Are we just going to avoid each other, unless Nyx is concerned?”

The door hadn’t even finished swinging shut, but she noticed Kallias stacking a few boxes in front of the door.

For all intents and purposes, do not enter.

Their first night working together and already a fight. She couldn’t blame his frustration, this was all her fault.

“It hurts to see you,” she breathed. “It hurts to see you because I don’t know what the hell is going on.”

“You don’t know what the hell is going on?” He asked, incredulously. “I don’t know what the hell is going on! You’re so-.” His words fell away and his eyes shut as he rubbed his temples.

Nesta arched a brow. “I’m so what?”

“Infuriating,” he said, and met her eyes with a pained expression that knocked the breath out of Nesta. “It hurts for you to see me? It kills me to see you, but you know what? That’s on you. I wasn’t the one that started questioning everything. And you want to know what’s ironic? You’re pushing me away because you’re afraid it won’t work out. But, it’s not working now, Nesta. In pushing me away, you made what you’re worried about a reality.” He shook his head, slowly. “What the hell is the point of that?”

Nesta didn’t say anything. Her jaw locked and she refused to break his gaze, no matter how much it tortured her.

“It’s better for it to happen now rather than later,” she said, and hated herself for it the second the words left her. “It’s better for it to end before it really begins.”

Cassian chuckled, humorlessly, and shook his head. “That's bullshit and you know it. It already began, Nesta.”

He took a step toward her, and in such a small room, it left very little space between them.

Nestas breath hitched, and judging by the way Cassian’s eyes flared, he definitely noticed.

“Tell me you don’t care about me, and it’s done. We’ll pretend these past few weeks never happened, and we can move on,” he whispered, and she could feel his breath fan over her face. “Tell me this all meant nothing to you, and it’s over.”

Her eyes flashed down to his lips before meeting his own. “I can’t do that.”

Cassian wasn’t sure who moved first. If he grabbed her face or if she leaned up and pressed her lips to his, but before he knew what was happening, he had her back pressed against the store room wall. Gods, it had only been a few days, but kissing her again, the feel of her lips on his, it felt like he hadn’t been able to breathe.

Her hands were clawing at his back and he found her thighs, lifting her up to wrap her legs around his waist. He hadn’t even noticed she’d changed into a loose, sundress but thanks to her own wardrobe change, there was very little fabric between them as she let go of him to fumble with his belt buckle and jeans.

There were no words necessary, not when they both needed the other as badly as they did.

Their lips never broke, that contact remained, hungrily, needily, as Nesta pulled Cassian’s cock out and, moving the thin scrap of fabric beneath her dress aside, he pushed himself up into her.

Nesta moaned into his mouth at the feeling of him filling her. He bit her lip, and that moan deepened as he began to thrust deep inside of her, over and over again.

There was no foreplay.

Foreplay wasn’t necessary, not this time.

Two days, two nights, had been far too long when they had become so accustomed to this same ritual every night, time and time again.

Cassian’s head fell back as he fucked her, relentlessly, then he met her lustful gaze. His forehead fell against hers as he slowed his pace. With a soft, reverent curse, Cassian breathed her name.

She clung to him, the smell and taste and feel of him making her feel far more drunk than the wine or liquor had. Nesta buried her face in his neck, trying to cover the sounds tumbling from her.

He captured her lips again, knowing her body better than his own at this point, and thrust into her as hard as he could.

The bottles on the shelves rattled gently, but he didn’t care if anyone could hear them in the bar. He didn’t care if anyone caught them. All he cared about was that he was deep inside of her, listening to the quiet whimpers and moans that she couldn’t stop.

There was no way she could walk away from this.

Not just from the sex. Which, yeah, was incredible, but there was more to it than that.

Their souls were connected, which is what made the sex so mindblowingly phenomonal.

It was more than just sex.

It was something that Cassian swore no one else had ever witnessed before. Or, maybe they had. Maybe this is what it felt like when you found the person you were meant to spend forever with.

No, Nesta couldn’t walk away from this.

He swore, hoped, prayed she couldn’t.

He wanted to say those little words. Wanted to tell her, so desperately, that he loved her, but he didn’t.

He just kept saying her name over and over and over again with every thrust of his hips.

I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

“Nesta,” he breathed, and she cried out as her legs began to shake around him. He cursed, his fingers digging into her thighs as his body flooded with the need to explode.

As soon as her release slammed into her, he met his own, her name a groan as he spilled into her. They stayed like that for a moment, him still buried inside her, even as his seed started to drip down her legs. Thankfully, the sound of the party out front had covered any and all noises they’d made. Her breathing was still uneven as he pulled out, and he pulled that ripped hoodie from his backpack and silently used it to clean her up.

Tossing it back towards his bag, not caring if it made it inside or not, he paused in front of her, and tried to tilt her face up to his.

She refused.

He breathed, “Look at me, Nes…”

She shook her head, and damn him if those weren’t tears starting to spill down her cheeks.

He gripped her chin, forcing her eyes up to meet his. “Damn it, Nesta, talk to me. Just talk to me and tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I think you need to go,” she breathed.

He hesitated. “What?”

“You need to go,” she repeated, but there was no bite in her voice.

Cassian took her face in his hands and brought her eyes to his. “I’m not leaving. Not after that.”

“Go,” she repeated, and another tear slid free. “Go, Cass, please.”

He shook his head, fury, frustration, utter misery filling his core. He dropped his hand and stepped back. “Damn it, Nesta! What do you want?!”

“For you to leave,” she hissed.

“You’re a fucking liar,” Cassian snapped. “You say you can’t tell me that you never cared, you fuck me in a damned store room, then you ask me to leave?”

“You’re making this harder than it has to be.”

“I’m making this harder?” he asked, breathlessly, unable to stop his darkened laughter. He looked away from her and sucked in his bottom lip.

A moment passed, and Cassian refused to meet her gaze. “I don’t get it,” he said, at last. “I don’t get it. I don’t know what you want. I don’t know what you want from me.” His words were coming out rushed, frazzled. “Know what? Fine. If this is the way you want it, this is the way it is. I’ll be at Elain’s and Azriel’s tonight, and I’m taking Nyx with me. I’ll bring him by tomorrow, when Viviane is there.”

With that, he was gone.

And Nesta was left alone, her hands flying over her mouth as she sobbed, still able to feel the soft, tender, alluring feeling of his lips on hers.

[liz-allyn]

shudder; part 6/6 [agent mobius x reader]

Series Summary: Pre-Loki series. You are one of the most dangerous variants the TVA has ever recovered, but Mobius knows what makes you tick. Five times he made you shudder, and the one time you returned the favor.

Words: 4.4k

Chapter Warnings/Tags: smut, language, soft daddy kink, sex in otherwise unsanitary conditions, writer's horribly pathetic attempt at dirty talk

A/N: Here it is guys. I struggled with this chapter a lot, also mad respect for gn!writers. I don't think I succeeded in keeping it neutral (welcoming feedback on how I can improve) so I removed that tag.

You watched a small fire crackle in the darkness of an elevator shaft, being used as a chimney. Rain spilled down the walls, running over old steel and concrete, but at least you were no longer in it.

Once you had had the strength to move off the beach, you found a footpath scaling up the face of the cliff which led to an abandoned mining post.

The population of Olympus-V had steady decline for decades, either by migration, poverty, or famine. The planet had been practically barren for years, save for some mining operations to squeeze the last of the planet’s natural resources.

It was in one of those posts where you were now taking refuge with Mobius. You sat on the ground near the elevator shaft, your clothes still soaked, while Mobius fiddled around with building a fire. You wrapped your arms tightly around yourself and tried to keep your teeth from chattering.

“You know how many centuries it took early man on Earth to figure out fire?” Mobius mused as he tended to the flames. “I mean, it’s not a competition or anything, but other civilizations had it down in like a few decades, max.”

You rolled your eyes miserably. “I got him killed, you know,” you replied, not having the energy to follow Mobius into another one of his “fun-facts-about-history” rabbit holes. You’d been quiet for a while, with Mobius having to hold both ends of the conversation. The grim tone in your voice gave him pause.

“The new guy,” you clarified, your tone flat as you spoke of your deceased partner. The last time you and Mobius had spoken, he had sang his praises. “It was only our fourth mission together and he’s dead. Because of me.”

Mobius sighed and turned away from you, “That’s one interpretation.” He dropped another piece of coal into the flame and came to a stand. “Or,” he added, “you could say he was a great analyst who made rational, competent choices and was working with the best data he had. The fact that he trusted you doesn’t make him any less responsible for the outcome.”

He idly wiped his hands on his pants, carrying on and providing no harbor for your self-pity, “I probably would’ve done the same thing.”

“No. You wouldn’t.” Your tone was icy. “Because you weren’t there.” You glared at him from across the smallish room you were huddled in, bitterness souring your voice. “You sent me away, remember?”

He let out an exasperated sigh, rolling his head slightly. “I had no other choice,” he parroted the same old response.

That wasn’t an answer that satisfied you. At all.

“Why?” you bit back with a mocking tone, coming to a quick stand. You pulled no punches. “Because the TVA told you to? Because if the Time Lords—”

“—Time Keepers—”

“—Time Fascists,” you hissed, “think that I have a crush on you, they'll zap me out of my useless existence?”

He glanced over at you, smirking with his head tilted slightly. He replied with a voice as sweet as caramel, “Are you saying you have a crush on me?”

Your shoulders dropped. “You’re insufferable.” You turned away, wishing you could find a different mine.

“Hey, considering my recent valiant and heroic efforts to rescue you,” he replied, “you’d think you’d be a little nicer to me.” You let out an exhausted sigh, but he kept going - cool as a cucumber. “I thought we had a thing going there. I mean - first, you kiss me—”

You spun on your heel. “Kiss you!?” you scoffed.

“Yeah,” he drawled. “On the beach.”

“I was resuscitating you!” you argued. “You call that a kiss?”

He shrugged innocently, a sparkle in his eyes. “Well, I wasn’t going to say anything,” he responded matter-of-factly. “But, uh, yeah - it was a little underwhelming.”

He grinned slyly. You wanted to simultaneously melt into him and burn him alive. You scoffed, shaking your head incredulously.

“What was the point?” you exclaimed. “What’s the point of rescuing me if I’m nothing but a - a tool? A blunt hammer for the TVA to snuff out anyone that steps out of line?”

The pain in your voice was unmistakable, and Mobius dropped his playful banter.

“You think I’ve enjoyed spending the last - however long it's been - hopping around the timeline hunting people who are no different than me?” Your heart ached with every word, “You think I enjoy killing?”

“No,” he answered, weighed with guilt, “I don’t.”

Your rage flared. “Then why won’t you just let me go!?”

“I can’t,” he quietly explained, eyes cast down. He wouldn’t even look at you.

Fuck this infuriatingly charming, cowardly little TVA sheep-whore.

You felt the venom pooling on your tongue. “God! You’re such a company man, aren’t y—”

“I can’t!” he raised his voice in a way that you’d never heard before, stunning you into silence. He lifted his gaze and looked at you solemnly, his expression filled with regret. His words were weak, broken - barely above a whisper. “...Let you go.”

You stared blankly at him, reading the tragedy written on his features. With his defenses down, you could clearly see every word: I don’t want to let you go. I need you, forever. You are mine and I am yours and nothing else makes sense beyond that. I’d do anything to keep you safe.

Were those his thoughts, or yours? You didn’t know anymore.

Mobius reached up quickly and loosened his tie, before deftly undoing the buttons of his shirt.

You were staring like a deer in the headlights. “Wha-Wai-what are you doing?” you blurted uncomfortably with a furrowed brow.

He rolled his eyes. “Not catching hypothermia, if that’s alright with you,” he snarkily said as he pulled off his jacket and shirt, revealing a soaked white undershirt beneath. You remembered that you both were freezing and wet. “I’m drying my clothes by the fire. We still have 10 hours and 23 minutes until we hit the radiation peak.”

Ah yes, you had almost forgotten.

Ten hours until the end of the world, or at least of Olympus-V. And because Mobius’ TempPad was unbelievably conveniently out of juice, and unable to open another Time Door, you were pretty sure you had about the same amount of time left to exist.

Mobius confidently felt otherwise. He rattled on some jargon about needing a massive source of energy to power the TempPad - something about electromagnetic waves, solar bursts, radiation of a dying star, the “sweet spot” between a steady charge and a gruesome death. You honestly stopped listening back at the beach.

You were too busy questioning his motives and your own. Were you happy that Mobius was trapped with you, about to be swallowed by the sun? Or were you furious that he idiotically ran right into an apocalypse and now you both were going to die.

He quipped that at least that technically made him a hero; maybe he’d get a plaque in the TVA cafeteria. You would’ve made some kind of cheeky comeback, but you were already dying inside at that devastating thought.

“Not to be too forward, but you should probably do the same,” Mobius added, bringing you back to the present situation where he was undressing in front of you. “You’re shaking like a chihuahua right now.”

You were about to question the puzzling thought of him being in a place in time to observe a chihuahua, but then he pulled his wet t-shirt over his head. You turned your gaze away reflexively as soon as you spotted human flesh.

Here you were - former soldier, mercenary, and spy, and fearsome hunter of the Time Variance Authority - blushing like a shrinking violet. It’s not that he didn’t have a point, it was just--fuck, he’s undoing his belt— is this real life right now?

“Don’t worry,” he scoffed flippantly. “I’ll even turn my back to preserve your innocence and sanctity.”

He was being facetious but it made you wonder if he had any idea how un-sanctified you were. Your eyes widened at the thought: Did he watch that on the highlight reel too?

Now he was pulling his slacks off, and you were tracking in real time again. He kept his promise and had his back to you, allowing you the privacy to undress. And you did.

You peaked over your shoulder to see him lay his clothes out in front of the flames. He dragged over an old canvas tarp he’d found - pieces of which he’d stripped off for kindling - and moved it to a safe proximity from the fire. He sat down in the middle of the tarp, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around him.

And he kept his underwear on - boxer briefs, you’d called it - not that you were trying to look below his waist or anything.

Once he was at rest, he rubbed his hands over his bare arms to create friction. You mirrored his steps one-by-one, until you were also sitting in your underwear on the canvas with your bare backs inches apart.

You both were quiet for a long time, facing opposite directions, surrounded by the cold darkness, and the sound of trickling water. You could still hear the waves thrashing and the rain bartering on the rocks outside. The crackle of the fire - the way the flame danced and dimly lit your surroundings, brought you a sense of peace. It was almost... romantic. Even if it was the end of the world.

“I know this is my fault,” Mobius declared, breaking the silence. You could hear struggle in his voice. “I know I was supposed to stay within my lane. My purpose is to preserve and protect the timeline, and that’s it, it’s just....” He sighed, and you listened carefully, hanging on his words. Was this doubt?

It sounded like he was trying to understand himself. “Something’s different now,” he explained, with a little bit of wonder and fear. “When we’re together, I feel… like I’m someone else. And I’m not who I was before. Before you.”

You quietly listened, thinking about how much you identified with what he was saying.

“My head is telling me it’s all wrong,” he said, “that I’m making a mistake. That I’m playing with fire.” His next thoughts brought the tiniest grin to his otherwise grim voice. “When I’m with you… I feel like a dope… Reckless.” The smile faded as his thoughts sobered him. “Dangerous.”

In the silence that followed, you wondered again whose thoughts you were hearing - his or yours.

“How can something that feels so right be wrong?” he mused openly - for you, the Time Keepers, and all the Sacred Timeline - to hear.

The question that hung heavy in the air had such a clear answer, of which you were certain. Your mind raced trying to think of how to respond, how to explain. You simply couldn’t find the words.

So you turned your body towards him. You reached over Mobius’ shoulder gently to cup the side of his face, and pulled him into a kiss.

It was slow and chaste, projecting every intention and emotion that you lacked the words to describe. Each time you moved your lips, you took another breath; you wrote another line of your love letter to him. He sank deeper into your kiss, as your souls tangled and caught fire.

And then you felt it.

You were positioned behind him, with his back to your chest when a burst of lightning crawled up his spine. A desperate shudder racked his body. He pulled away from you breathlessly, his eyes closed, as you both panted and glowed with the heat of the moment.

“If I didn’t know any better,” your lips curled into a sultry smile, “I’d say I was making you nervous.”

He opened his dark bronze eyes at that, drinking you in. He couldn’t help but mirror your mischievous smirk. In an instant, he snatched you up and pulled you onto his lap. You kissed him hungrily, straddling him, as his hands glided over your body.

Your mind went foggy, as any composure you had in the situation was evaporating. His lustful kisses scorched your skin as they traveled down your neck. He lifted you higher so that he could drink more of you in. You gasped and sighed at how your body reacted to him, your fingers digging into his scalp. He groaned with pleasure as he found your open mouth again, your tongue a welcoming partner.

He pulled you in tighter, your hips grinding further into him. You felt his want, hard against your body, and you felt the last of your innocence pooling between your legs. The friction made you let out an un-sanctified moan, breaking away from his kiss. The sound of your voice intoxicated him.

You were in a controlled descent backwards as he lowered you to your back.

When did you start trembling? Has it really been that long since your last time?

Your hands danced across his chest, triggering goosebumps. Even his skin wanted you. You writhed beneath him as he positioned himself between your legs. You were bursting like a firecracker with anxious need. Your hands groped him, nails gently grazing - traveling down his torso and beneath the waistband of his boxers.

He gasped as your fingers wrapped around his organ, fluttering his eyes shut at your touch. You were on autopilot, your physical need in command of your body, as you attempted to pull his stiff erection from his boxers.

Mobius snatched your hands and you froze. He pulled your arms up, grasping your hands tightly, and pinned your wrists to the floor on either side of your head. You were hit with a wave of confusion, followed by shame.

Maybe you’d read this wrong. You looked up at him, half-expecting to read an expression of disgust.

What you found was the opposite.

His eyes— gentle, dark, and focused intently on you— telegraphed a message for you to read carefully:

You were not the one in control here.

You felt the wind of butterflies deep in your core as you realized he had clear goals for you in mind. He was asking you - imploring you - for command of your body. For the record, he already had it - whether or not either of you were conscious of it.

You lay still, save for your chest’s gentle movements, as his eyes unravelled the layers of your being. Trapped in his gaze, you were stripped bare in more than just flesh.

You were time travelling again - years into the past. The pages of your chapters fell away, until you felt like a pupil again, watching your master navigating the geography of your body.

His grip softened, giving your palms an affectionate squeeze before he released your hands. His leering gaze was already gliding down your valleys, and his hands followed, letting his fingertips brush the delicate flesh of your forearms as they travelled.

All your mind could do to focus was count your every breath as his touch and kisses grazed your skin. You wondered how long it had been for him. You quivered at the thought of him planning this moment.

He took time tasting you with each kiss - down your chest, your belly, the crest of your hips. You lifted your core with his encouragement, allowing him to pull away your last remaining piece of clothing. You were finally unveiled before him. He sighed softly, mind buzzing, as he delicately spread your legs apart.

He moved so slowly with intention, relishing each moment. You were on the verge of losing it and he had yet to touch your most sensitive areas. He could feel your hips squirm with anticipation.

“I want you,” he pacified you, “more than anything.” He tenderly kissed the inside of your thigh. “But I need to know that you want this too. Without a doubt in your mind.”

You were desperate by this point, way past “willing.” Regardless, he met your eyes, waiting patiently for your consent.

You were consumed with lust. “Please,” you stuttered in passionate exhilaration. You could barely recognize your own voice, “You can do anything you want to me.”

His face twitched into a sinful smirk. “I know.” There was that confidence again. “But that’s not what I asked.” He steadied his composure and fixed himself in your sights once again. You gazed at him with a more sobered expression, giving this moment the respect he wanted.

He watched your lips now that he had your attention. “Tell me you want me to make you feel good,” he seductively implored. “Tell me you want me to take you, here and now. I need to hear you say yes.”

The way he asked for your consent could’ve put you over the edge by itself.

“Yes,” you practically moaned under your breath. It was a sinful, thirsty plea. “God, yes, please. I want you to touch me.”

That ignited his fuse.

He lowered to his elbows, positioning his arms beneath your legs. His mouth was on you, leaving you aghast at the force. It was like he wanted more than just to please you - he relished in devouring you, like a frozen dessert on a hot summer day. You jolted and gasped, more from surprise than pain. He took note anyway, and steadied his animalistic pace.

It wasn’t long until your eyes were rolled in the back of your head. You were thunderstruck, arching your body and moaning with ecstasy.

The way his name sounded each time it sprang from your lips made him drunk. Every time you uttered it, you felt him tense and groan. It was a perpetual cycle. Your hips would reflexively buck from the intense pleasure and he would just hold on tighter. He forced your thighs apart as you encouraged him to unleash more rapture on your body.

This was not a particularly new position for you, but it was good. You weren’t sure where he got the experience, but he was really, really good.

And if “Sacred-you”— “NC-17-rated,” “parental-advisory-warning-labelled” badass-you—could just see yourself now: writhing on the floor while being laid out by an older man, one whom you’d rarely seen out of a brown suit and tie. You didn’t think this man knew how to fire a gun before, but you were practically mewling for him like a kitten.

And god, he really seemed to enjoy it.

You warned him that you couldn’t last much longer. You felt the tension building inside. You wanted desperately to satisfy him, to feel him inside of you, to have him enraptured with you. But unless he slowed down, you were going to lose it right here with his mouth on you. You knew he had needs, and you began to plead with him to let you fulfill them.

You pushed down on his shoulders, begging him to let you have a turn. He pulled away, pausing only briefly.

“Uh uh,” he chastised you with a wicked grin. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

He was back on you before you could reply, this time reaching two of his fingers into your core.

Your head dropped backwards at the sensation, and now you were obscenely begging him for more. You’d happily given up any attempt at controlling what happened next, focusing solely on the nuclear fission in your body.

You blossomed for him as his fingertips pulsed on the most sensitive flesh inside inside you. Muscles you didn’t even remember you had repeatedly contracted. He impurely hummed and he lapped greedily at the fruit of his labor.

You were gasping for air, beaded with sweat, as you came down from your high. He leaned over you to witness the sunset of your orgasm. Eyes full of lust, he pulled himself free of his boxers and discarded them as he watched you.

When you glanced down to see the stunning sight of his stimulation, it re-electrified you. You pulled yourself into a sitting position on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. Your legs straddled him eagerly as he lifted your hips over his member.

The erotic sound you both made as you slid down his shaft was sinful enough to cast you both into hell. You kissed him, open-mouthed, and tasted yourself on his tongue. Now that you were on top of him, wrapped around him, he seemed more frantic and less calculated with his movement.

He was gazing up at you like a lustful teenage boy, letting himself be taken by passion. “God...” he whispered, suddenly less skilled with words. “You feel so... ah!... s-so beautiful...”

“You’re so hard…stretching me so tight,” you groaned into his mouth, and he growled in agreement, nodding his head.

He broke away from the kiss, “God - yes, ah, you’re s-so tight, baby...” You grinned excitedly as you climbed and descended his length. You moaned like a porn star as you rode him.

“I can call you that, can’t I?” he said through his own breathless moans. You glanced at him in confusion. He looked concerned. His hands braced your hips as you continued your movement. “Is that okay?”

“Wha-what?”

“The pet name,“ he explained through sighs, “B-Baby? I-I don’t want it to sound de-demeaning, or... patronizing—”

Okay. Now he was overthinking it.

“It’s fine,” you urged him to move on, growing more frustrated, but now he was babbling nervously.

“I could call you something else—”

“—don’t care—”

“—’s’important to me that you know I respect you, and I’d never—”

“I don’t care, I—You can call me whatever you want. Please, daddy… Just— fuck me…”

You crashed your lips on his, but felt his breath hitch as he tensed you immediately. You either said something very right, or very wrong. The sex had all but come to a screeching halt, as you reluctantly met his eyes.

He gazed at you thoughtfully, gears turning.

Timidly, you searched his face for judgment, for any sign of disapproval, but instead, there was a look of almost— awe.

You watched the change in him as the devil overtook him. His eyes turned three shades darker, pooling with lust. His expression of wonder melted into a devious smile. Your dirty talk awakened something in him, like he was remembering a long-forgotten visceral part of himself.

He scooped you up and laid you on your back again, pulling himself out of your body. You only had a brief time to revolt, until he sat up on his knees and he lifted one of your thighs up, pulling your leg over his shoulder. You watched curiously trying to figure out what he was doing, until he gripped your hips and pulled you downward— over his shaft.

You let out a painfully delicious cry as he bottomed out inside of you. He hungrily watched your expressions and relished in the sound of your moans.

His hand braced the inside of your other thigh, holding your legs open so that you were spread at the right angle for him. As soon as he began to thrust, you were done for.

You groaned with ecstasy. “That’s... it..,” he praised you, eliciting more cries from you.

There were no more performances. There was no more pageantry. No more room for pretending to be anyone other than who you are.

You were coming undone for him, and he watched every moment. Every dirty thought and fantasy you ever had might as well have been written on your body. He studied each line.

“Oh god, Mobius—yes,” you babbled as you squirmed.

“Yeah?” he breathed, teasingly. “Does that feel good?” You nodded frantically.

Sweat beaded down his chest as his hands roamed to find your sweet spot, and another desperate wave of ‘yes’s flooded out from your lips.

“What did you call me?” he enticed, his mouth watering for your response. “What name did you call me before?” You were struggling with words, but he wouldn’t stop until he coaxed the right one from you.

“Say it.”

You tangled your fingers in your scalp, turning your head away. He thrust into your hips a little deeper, and you cried out obscenely.

“Say it,” he repeated, more firmly this time. “I wanna hear you say it again. I wanna watch you say it to me.”

More lewd noises dropped out of your mouth, as you propped yourself up on your elbows. “Yes, please, I love what’re… doing t’ me… I need it, daddy…”

He groaned with a lecherous smile, biting his lip. “You are so good for me.”

Lust was dripping from each word as he drew them out. His honeyed, Southern accent had returned. His eyes were blown black as he cooed with praise, “You make me wanna be so bad.”

You were gone after that. Your head tilted back, crying out through another climax. He could hear his own voice—that’s it that’s it—moaning in the distance somewhere, but he was enthralled with your little pleas. The tones of your voice washed over him; he used them to quell the blaze inside.

He knew everything he wanted to do to you, and everything you wanted him to do. And he couldn’t get past the feeling, as he buried himself deeper inside of you, that this was all... familiar.

This picture of you, spread out gloriously beneath him, was impossibly familiar. He imagined a bed that wasn’t his own, and light blue cotton sheets that couldn’t have been his, and the sunlight peeking from a sheer curtain, and falling across the ecstasy-filled face of his lover that he couldn’t have ever married...

That was....you.

Your voice was echoing in Mobius’ head. You whined and whimpered, glowing with passion, signaling that you were moments away from your climax. And then he was here - on Olympus-V with you, and he felt you tighten and flutter around him.

The sight of you, writhing beneath him as you reached orgasm, pulled a deep moan from his chest. White hot light flooded his vision. His body jerked and reacted in unison, filling you with his seed.

For someone for whom time had little meaning, he was now obsessed - trying to catch and hold back each fleeting moment. He leaned forward, his body spent, and you pulled his chin down into a longing kiss.

His mind was spinning. His lungs were still taking deep breaths. He pulled away slowly and rested his forehead on yours, his eyes closed as he struggled to make sense of what was real and what was a dream.

“I could never let you go,” he declared, deep in contemplation. You didn’t quite understand the connection in the present moment. You didn’t remember.

“Then stay with me,” was your gentle reply.

He gazed once again into your eyes with a knowing smile. “Always.”

A/N: And I'm leaving it there. For now. Please reblog with feedback, or send me a message on your thoughts. This is my first attempt at writing in a long, long time. Also it's my first attempt at smut so be nice with your feedback :-)

THANK YOU to all of you for your wonderful comments. Please reblog for support!

@generalhugzzz @isaxbella749 @yodaboo @aloyssia @simsiddy @coloursforyourportrait

[watchmegetobsessed]

Flatmates - Harry Styles

i listened to kiwi while writing it so i strongly advise to listen to is while reading as well. without any further ado, i present you this flatmate!harry fic with some steamy smut!

word count: ~9k

warning: smut

masterlist

You were desperate to find a place to live, to say the least. You’ve always had trouble remembering deadlines and important dates, and thanks to this charming trait of yours, you successfully missed the deadline of the college dormitory applications. After a day of solid panic you started looking for cheap apartments, but living off campus seemed to be something only rich people could afford. Rents were ridiculously high and you were certain you couldn’t afford to spend thousands of dollars for a room smaller than your pantry back at home. You watched ad after ad, making calls all day for a week straight, but at the end, you always went to bed with the thought that you’ll have to live under a bridge through the first semester of your freshman year.

It was until a friend of yours, Rita, who was mature enough to apply to the dormitory in time called you with the best news you could receive.

“This friend of my future roomie is looking for a flat mate. You gave me his number, maybe you could give him a call and see if the room is still available. Just tell him Kimberly gave you his number, I’m sure he’ll offer you the room on a nicer price.”

“Oh my God, you just saved my life!” you gasped, almost feeling like crying. “I owe you big time, Rita!”

You called right away, not wanting to waste any time and maybe have the room already rented by then. A deep, male voice answered the call in a soothing British accent.

“Harry Styles,” he said in a calm tone.

“Hey! My name is Y/N and I got your number from Kimberly. I’m looking for a place to live from September and I was told you have a room to rent?”

Harry sounded a little hesitant at first, asked a few questions about you to have a better picture of you, but eventually offered the room. You quickly agreed that you’d be able to move in at the end of August. You were thankful you had one less worry about school finally.

August rolled around the corner faster than you expected and in no time, half your life was packed up into boxes and suitcases as you and your dad drove two hours on a Saturday to get you all settled in your new home. Up until this point, you hadn’t seen Harry just yet. Though you did search up his name, but he was the kind to never post about himself, but mostly about guitars, landscapes and animals. His Instagram was dry, no trait of what he looked like or even the slightest hint about himself. There was only one photo that featured the outline of a guy, which makes it clear that the person was fully naked, no trace of any clothes hanging on his body, but it was completely dark, so nothing could be really seen. However the tag on the figure made you think it wasn’t him, so it didn’t matter. His Facebook seemed even sadder, barely any posts, not even a decent profile picture. You were surprised to see there are people who don’t really use social media, but you didn’t take it as a bad sign. Harry must be a private person and you had nothing against that.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to move in with a guy you’ve never met before?” your dad asks as the two of you are unloading the car in front of the apartment complex. Glancing up you shrug your shoulders with a little excitement, knowing that you are only minutes away from finally seeing the person you are gonna spend your next months living with.

“He sounded like a decent person, and I really don’t have any other choice, dad. Or do you want me to sleep in a park or something?”

“God, no. You really should be more careful about those deadlines next time,” he sighs kissing the top of your head before shutting the back of the car once everything is set on the ground.

“Don’t worry, I already bought a calendar so I can keep better track of everything.”

When you first told your parents that you’d be living with Harry, they didn’t seem to be a fan of the idea, but they realized you weren’t really swimming in options at the moment so they eventually come to peace that their daughter is going to be living with a guy. They didn’t make a big deal out of it, knowing well you were an adult now practically who can make choices for herself.

The two of you manage to bring everything up to the third floor and you ring the doorbell since you don’t have your keys yet. You immediately recognize Harry’s British accent as he calls out a “coming!” from the other side of the door and a few seconds later it opens, revealing him.

Your first thought is that he is tall. Very tall and oh my! How handsome! His green eyes find your gaze and his dimples come out as he smiles at you happily. This man is surely a nice sight, you think to yourself, but you quickly bring yourself back to reality as he takes a look at all the stuff surrounding you.

“Y/N, why didn’t you call me that you were here? I could have helped you!” Taking a step outside he stretches his hand out for your dad. “Nice to meet ya, you must be Mr. Y/L/N. I’m Harry.”

“Nice to meet you,” your dad nods at him shaking his head before Harry grabs a box from the floor himself, holding the door open for you.

“Come on in!”

The three of you quickly bring everything inside from the hallway and you finally have a moment to look around. It’s not a big apartment, but seemingly perfect for two people. Walking in you have a small kitchen on the left and a little dining area on the right with a simple table and four chairs around it. Further inside is the living room, it’s nicely furnished very bright thanks to the large windows across the front door. On the left there’s a door that leads to the bathroom and on the right there’s a small hallway, two doors on each side. The two rooms are exactly the same size, so there was no need to have a discussion about who is getting which room. Not that you were gonna go against Harry when he literally saved your life with letting you stay with him.

The place seems tidy and neat, it’s clear that Harry takes good care of his home and that is for sure a relief.

Your room has a double bed, a desk with a chair, a dresser and a built in little closet. Everything is white or a light beige color, nothing extreme and you already have plans about how you want to decorate it to make it cozier.

“I left two shelves free for you out of the three. I have a few hair products, but I figured you’d need more space,” Harry tells you when you put a smaller box into the bathroom that has all your toiletries.

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” you smile at him.

Your dad sticks around a little longer helping you unpack some of the bigger boxes, then you walk him down to his car before he leaves.

“Please call your mother often. You know how much she worries about you,” he asks as he pulls you into a quick hug.

“Will do.”

“And call us anytime you need help. Two hours is not that far away, I can always come and get you.”

“I’ll be alright, dad, but thank you.”

You watch him climb into the car and he rolls down the windows waving in your way as he leaves from the parking lot. You stand there until he disappears on the corner and then go back up to your apartment.

Harry is sitting in the living room when you get back, some quiet music playing from the Bluetooth speaker as he reads a book. He glances up at you and you flash him a smile closing the door behind you.

“Your dad seemed quite okay with you living with a guy.”

“He had time to get used to it. They’re not that strict though.”

“That’s cool. I was thinking, maybe we could order some food when you’re done unpacking and just get to know each other a little more.”

“That sounds great!” you smile, but can’t ignore how fast your heart is beating in your chest. Harry surely has an effect on you that you’ll need to gain control over if you don’t want to make living together hard for yourself.

It takes quite some time to unpack everything and find the right place for your stuff, you don’t even finish by the time the food arrives so you decide to leave the rest for tomorrow.

The Chinese food is all set on the table when you walk out and Harry is getting two plates for the two of you.

“Settled in?” he asks as you take one of the chairs and he sits across you.

“Not fully, but I’m getting there,” you chuckle as he hands you your order. “Thank you.”

You talk over the food, just getting to know each other and you finally get a better picture of Harry. It’s his third year of college, he is studying music and pedagogy, intending to one day use music as a helping tool for kids who have learning difficulties. He is a big fan of collecting vinyls and quite passionate about trashy rom coms.

“Really?” you chuckle when he mentions how his Netflix queue is filled with romantic movies.

“Guilty pleasure,” he nods smirking.

You tell a little about yourself too and he seems genuinely interested, which feels nice. You would have hated if he found your interests boring and negligible, but that’s not the case.

“How come you couldn’t find a roommate for so long?” you ask the question that’s been in the back of your mind for quite a while now. Both of you are done eating and you’re cleaning up the table.

Nothing really stood out about Harry just yet, it’s quite a mystery for you why he couldn’t find someone to live with him.

“Well, you could say I’m a little picky in this field. Lived with my best mate first year, and though I absolutely love him, he was horrible to live with. Felt like his personal maid the whole time. When Niall moved in with his girlfriend and I had to move on my own I promised myself I would choose carefully. Lived with a PhD student last year, he was pretty great, but he moved out when he graduated, and I couldn’t really find someone I liked since then.”

“Glad I passed then,” you chuckle as you take the dishes and start washing them while Harry stands next to you, leaning against the edge of the counter.

“You seemed like a decent person to live with, I hope I won’t be wrong about that,” he chuckles, but you can tell he is still a little scared you might turn out to be a total asshole.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be too much trouble. I’m quiet like a mouse and clean up after myself.”

“That’s all that matters,” he smiles. “Alright, I have some things to finish, I’ll be in my room if you need help with anything.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

He waves in your way before disappearing in his bedroom.

You spend most of your Sunday unpacking what was left and running errands, buying groceries so you don’t have to go to the store every other day during the week. You occasionally meet Harry in the kitchen or the living room, but you both just do your own thing and it’s totally fine by you.

School starts quiet smoothly, Harry was kind enough to give you a rundown of where you’ll find your lecture halls so you don’t really get lost around campus, easily finding your way.

Friday afternoon you and Rita are sitting at a café near campus to discuss the first week of school. You don’t have any classes together, so only grabbed lunch two times all week, but didn’t have more than twenty minutes together before one of you had to run to a class. Now you are both comfortably sat in a booth with two cappuccinos and plenty of time to talk.

“So, how is living with Harry?” she curiously asks.

“He is great! Though we don’t meet that much. He has a band so he has practice three times a week, spends the rest of his time at home reading or watching TV.”

You ate dinner together twice this week, but you haven’t really had the courage to join him in the living room when he was watching TV. It sounds stupid but you figured maybe it would bother him if you were out there with him. And since he didn’t invite you either, you just stayed in your room mostly.

“Kimberly told me he is hot, is that true?” she asks with a smirk as she takes a sip from her hot drink. You immediately feel your cheeks heating up.

“Well, he surely is a good looking guy,” you breathe out.

“Lucky you! There’s not much of those in an all girls dorm,” she pouts and you chuckle. “So are you gonna make a move on him?”

“That’s not gonna happen,” you shake your head laughing.

“Why not?”

“Because we live together and if he rejects me that would be so awkward for the rest of our time living together.”

“But you can’t know for sure if he would reject,” she points out, but she can’t bring up one thing that would change your mind.

“It’s better not to take the odds. I don’t want to end up on the street.”

 As the days go by, things start to get busier in your everydays. Assignments and papers start to pile up so you have to start working on them if you don’t want to leave everything to the last moment. You become a regular in the library, the atmosphere is great for you to get into the flow and get a lot of work done.

It seems like Harry is in the same shoe, he is often in and out of the apartment, sometimes only spends home just a couple of minutes before he leaves again. However they slowly get accustomed to each other, learn the ways the other likes things and work up a schedule for things. Harry learns that Y/N likes to take a shower twice a day and washes her hair usually on Wednesdays and Sundays, so he doesn’t try to take too much time in the bathroom on those days. He also notices how she doesn’t have time to wash the dishes after herself on Thursdays when she just runs home to have a quick bite before she has to leave for another lecture, so they came to a silent agreement where Harry cleans up after her on Thursdays while she takes up on the dishes on Saturday when Harry leaves to band practice at eight.

They work well together and soon enough all of Harry’s doubts about Y/N fade into nothing and he realizes he has made the right choice with her.

Usually she stays at the library until seven on Mondays, but this week they are closing early because they are rearranging a whole department, so Y/N leaves a little after five. She pays a quick trip to the grocery store before she heads home. Opening up the door she immediately hears the music playing, one of Harry’s vinyls is twirling around in the record player and she hears the water running in the bathroom. Setting her bags on the counter she starts unpacking the groceries.

The music and the running water pushed the sound of her arriving down, Harry didn't realize that you were home early when he opens the bathroom door, singing to himself wearing absolutely nothing as he wants to go and grab a pair of clean underwear, but he is shocked to see you standing in the kitchen.

“Shit!” he snaps, hands immediately flying to cover himself as he sprints back to the bathroom quickly grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist.

Your cheeks are heating up immediately even though you didn’t see anything you weren’t supposed to, the counter top covered him just right above the critical line, but it’s the first time you’ve seen his upper body completely naked.

Even though it was just a spit second, the sight of his many tattoos and the defined V-line leading down to his crotch burned straight into your mind, leaving you flustered and shy all of a sudden.

“Sorry! I should have let you know I was coming home early!” you call out turning around, as if he was about to walk out naked again. Harry chuckles lightly as he returns, this time a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Don’t be silly, you don’t have to check in when you come home. It was my fault, I shouldn’t just walk around naked assuming you wouldn’t be home.”

You should, you think to yourself gulping as you turn around and dare to look at him again. You don’t see less than just a few seconds ago, his chest is glistening from the dampness, his curls are still wet and you are having a hard time not to stare at the tattoos on his lower stomach, so you busy yourself with the rest of your groceries as he walks into his room and returns in a pair of sweats and a white t-shirt.

“Any plans for the weekend?” he asks disappearing in the bathroom, but he leaves the door open and you hear him shuffle around, probably fixing up his hair. He uses some kind of mousse that keeps his curls perfectly and also happens to smell like mango and some kind of citrus.

“Um, not really.”

“We’re playing at this bar with the band, wanna come and watch us?” Walking out of the bathroom he switches the light off before walking to the couch and opening up his Netflix account on the TV. His invitation surprises you, but it also feels nice he wants you there.

“Oh, sounds fun! Can I bring someone?”

“Of course! I can have a table reserved for you, if you’d like,” he smiles at you before turning his attention to the screen.

“That would be great, thanks.”

You feel like after your little encounter it’s probably not the best day to join him at the TV, especially because you can’t stop yourself from blushing every time you look at him. The sight of his naked torso pops up in your mind every time and there’s no way you can just casually sit on the couch with him without your body lighting up on fire.

 Rita is excited when you tell her about the invitation, you don’t even have to convince her to go with you since she is dying to finally meet Harry. When he leaves in the early afternoon on Saturday he assures you that there’s gonna be a table reserved under your name, and off he goes to practice, leaving you alone for the rest of the day since he tells you he won’t be back before the concert tonight. Rita comes over around six and the two of you get ready together.

“You have to wear something spicy,” she wiggles her eyebrows at you while you sit at your desk applying mascara to your lashes.

“I don’t want to overdress, it’s just a bar.”

“Yeah, but Harry invited you. I bet he wants you to see him play.”

“Of course he wants, why else would he invite me?” you ask with furrowed eyebrows.

“You don’t get it,” she chuckles turning to you, hands on her hips. “He wants you to see him play because it feeds his ego. Maybe even turns him on.”

“Stop acting like there is anything between us. We are flatmates and that’s all.”

“I think he wants to be more, you’re just too pussy to make a move yourself,” she shrugs turning back to your closet.

“Stop calling me a pussy for not wanting to make it awkward for the two of us to live together. I’m pretty sure Harry doesn’t see me as anything more than just the person he lives with.”

“Then we have to change that. And I think this is the perfect dress for that.”

Rita pulls out a little black dress you bought about a year ago, but never really got around to wear it. It’s so tight, pushes your tits up way too much for your liking, you’re not even sure why you bought it in the first place.

“I’m not wearing that,” you shake your head.

“Are you afraid he might get a boner from you in it?”

“Rita!” you snap at her, but she just chuckles.

“Look, if you’re so sure he doesn’t want you like that, why does it matter what you wear?”

She has a point. It’s not like this dress will change anything and it would be nice to wear at least once in your life this stupid dress if you bought it.

Grabbing it from her hands you throw it to the bed and start undressing as she claps in victory.

You remembered right, the dress leaves close to nothing to the imagination when it comes to your figure. The fabric hugs your figure tightly, and you put on a lacy bralette that peeks out at the top of the dress, kind of covering some more from your skin, since the dress doesn’t do much in that field itself. Rita tries to convince you not to take a jacket, but you throw your denim jacket on, feeling the need to have something give you the slightest sense of being covered.

You arrive at the bar twenty minutes before the concert starts and it’s a good thing Harry reserved a table for you, because the place is packed. You’re not sure if it’s because of them or it’s just a regular Saturday evening.

The little stage is all set up, but you see no sign of Harry anywhere as the two of you settle at your table with a drink. Luckily, the bartender did not ask for an ID, he was too busy looking at your chest. At least there’s one good thing in this dress.

The drum set at the back has the name of the band on it and you smile reading it. The word ‘Stylish’ is printed on it with bold blue letters, referring to Harry’s last name, who is most likely the front man of the band.

The place is buzzing and the two of you enjoy being out at a bar concert. When the lights go down you finally spot him walking out of the back followed by a guy and two girls.

“Welcome, folks,” he greets the audience, his accent filling up the place over the chatters. A round of cheering answers him, making him smile. “Thank you for coming out tonight, we hope to entertain you in the next hour. Our name is Stylish and now let’s get down to business,” he smirks and just as he takes a step back from the mic, the band starts playing. Harry grabs a guitar himself before stepping back to the mic and then he starts singing.

They play a mixture of covers and original songs, the transition between them is so smooth you sometimes forget it’s a whole different song that’s playing. Harry is clearly enjoying the spotlight, his presence on the stage is so natural and capturing, you often catch yourself forgetting about the rest of the band.

One song follows the other and you don’t even realize how fast this hour passes by. Harry sometimes stops in-between songs, entertaining the audience with small jokes and just casually interacting with them.

“Our last song is up next, so let me take a moment to introduce the band,” Harry speaks into the mic while softly playing the guitar so it’s not completely quiet as he talks. “At the drums, the amazing and talented Sarah Jones!”

A round of applause fills the bar as Sara waves around smiling widely, before Harry moves on to the next member.

“Playing the piano, the wonderful Charlotte Clark!”

Charlotte plays a short melody on the keys matching up with what Harry has been playing, before she also waves at the audience.

“The guy who is a way better guitarist than me, Mitch Rowland.”

Harry’s comment makes the audience laugh and Mitch just nods shyly, a smile pulling on his lips under his mustache.

“And this handsome Brit who sometimes acts like a comedian,” Sarah starts leaning closer to her mic. “Harry Styles.”

It’s no surprise that Harry gets the biggest cheering and he smirks sweetly, his fingers still strumming on the guitar. The clapping and screaming slowly dies down and as Harry steps back to his mic they start the last song.

It’s quite an upbeat, funky song, you just can’t resist dancing around on your chair and seemingly Rita is enjoying herself as well, cheering with her beer in her hand. The song comes to an end and they all line up at the front of the stage bowing down together as the whole bar cheers on them as one person.

“Woah, this was… something else,” Rita breathes out once they disappear at the back and chatter fills up the place once again and the lights come back.

“They smashed it!” you nod in agreement. You figured they are good if they get asked to perform, but this was way beyond what you were expecting.

Looking around you are hoping to see Harry somewhere, but they must be celebrating somewhere at the back. Maybe he won’t even come out, you think to yourself as you finish up your beer.

“I’ll get us another round,” you tell Rita as you make your way to the bar.

There are quite a few people waiting to be served, so you squeeze yourself into the crowd and hope to get to the front soon.

“So how did you like it?”

You jump in surprise when you hear Harry’s voice coming from behind you, and turning around you see how close he is standing to you.

“Hi! I didn’t even see you sneak up on me,” you chuckle making him smile as he squeezes himself next to you. The two of you finally reach the front, but the bartender is serving someone a little on the left so you have to wait. “I loved it, you were like a proper rockstar up there!”

“Thanks,” he chuckles and his dimples show up on his cheeks. The bartender finally gets to you and Harry is quick to order for the both of you. “’S probably better if I place the order since you’re not twenty one just yet.”

“Didn’t have any problem ordering the first time,” you smirk smugly and Harry raises his eyebrows at you before his eyes wander down your body for a second.

“I bet you didn’t in this dress.”

Suddenly, you’re very aware of how daring your outfit looks, so out of reflex, you pull your jacket tighter on yourself, Harry’s smile quickly fades as he realizes that he made you uncomfortable with his comment.

“I meant that you look really pretty. Definitely makes you appear a little older though.”

“My friend wanted me to wear it, I would have been fine with something else,” you admit as the bartender places your order in front of you and Harry pays for the whole thing.

“Glad she convinced you,” he grins down at you and you can feel your cheeks heating up once again.

He helps you carry the drinks to the table and Rita quickly puts her phone away when she sees who you are returning with.

“Harry, this is my friend, Rita. Rita, this is Harry,” you introduce them and Harry shakes her head smiling.

“Nice to meet you,” he nods kindly.

“Oh, same goes for you,” Rita smirks and you roll your eyes at her.

“I’ll go get the rest of the band, do you mind if we join you guys here? There are no empty tables.”

“Sure,” you nod smiling before the crowd swallows Harry.

“For fuck’s sake, you have to make a move on him, Y/N!” Rita turns to you as soon as he is gone.

“Would you stop?” you chuckle.

“No! This dude is so hot I forget my name when I look at him! And you live with him! You can’t miss this chance, Y/N.”

“I’m not missing anything. We live together, it’s not worth it.”

“Not missing anything?” Rita looks at you as if you were mental. “You are literally missing everything!”

“I’m done with this conversation,” you tell him just when Harry appears again, this time with two of his bandmates, Sarah and Mitch are following him smiling, hand in hand.

“Charlotte had to leave early, but this is Sarah and Mitch,” Harry introduces them as they join the two of you at the table. “And this is my flatmate, Y/N and her friend Rita.”

You all shake hands as Harry sorts out the extra beers he has ordered so everyone has a drink on their hand.

It’s no surprise, but Sarah and Mitch prove themselves to be just as cool as they seemed up on the stage. And the best thing is that they don’t shy away from sharing funny stories that include Harry.

“So have you been looking for a new place to stay, Y/N?” Mitch jokes. “I’m sure you’ve had enough of Harry by now.”

“Very funny,” Harry laughs at his bandmate’s comment.

“To be honest it’s pretty fine so far. He is a pleasant person to share your home with,” you say with a soft chuckle.

“What’s one thing you hate about living with him?” Sarah asks and Harry pretends to be hurt over the question.

“Who said there’s anything she hates?”

“Shush, I was asking her!” she hushes at him making you laugh.

“I really can’t point out anything in particular. Maybe he has been very careful, luring me into believing that he is the perfect flatmate so I get stuck with him.”

You stay for a while, just chatting and having a good time until the bar starts to empty out and you decide it’s better if you head home as well.

“We have to take care of the equipment, are you leaving or do you want to wait for me?” Harry asks you.

“We’ll just call an Uber, don’t worry about it,” you smile at him.

“Alright, see you at home.”

You say goodbye to Sarah and Mitch and part your ways with them as you and Rite head outside.

“I hope you noticed how Harry was looking at you,” Rita smirks at you when the two of you are sitting at the back of the Uber.

“What are you talking about?” you sigh leaning your head against the seat.

“I caught him staring at you quite a few times.”

“He was just probably looking at me when I was talking. Don’t try to talk something into it that’s not true.”

“Alright, I’ll stop,” she replies holding up her hands. “But I still think you are missing out on some amazing dick.”

You awkwardly glance at the driver who is hearing everything you say, but Rita seemingly doesn’t mind that you’re not alone.

“You know what? We should give Tinder a try.”

“What? Why?”

“If you don’t want to make a move on your hot flatmate, we need to get some satisfaction from others.”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“Oh, you are not,” she chuckles. “But you will be when you match with the hottest guys on campus.”

You let Rita believe that she convinced you to sign up for Tinder, but you get out of the car with the intention of never downloading the app, like ever.

Walking into the apartment you grab a clean, oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties since your sleeping shorts are all dirty, but you were planning to do the laundry tomorrow. You decide it’s not a big deal and the shirt will probably cover enough of your body.

You take a quick shower to get off the thick smell of the bar that’s stuck on your skin, taking your time moisturizing yourself once you’re done. When you get dressed you see that the shirt does cover your bum, but if you lifted your arms up it surely shows a big portion of your ass, so you’ll have to be careful if Harry arrives.

You’re lounging on the couch watching a rerun of House M.D. and scrolling through your phone when Harry arrives.

“Hey there, rockstar!” you greet him teasingly and he just chuckles shyly.

“Is it gonna be my new nickname?”

“Well, you really were one tonight, so I think yes,” you nod making him laugh. Walking further inside his eyes stop on your bare legs and he is quick to notice that you’re not wearing any pants, like you usually do. You immediately tug on the end of the shirt to cover more of your skin, but it’s not really working.

“Ehm, I’ll go and take a quick shower,” he informs you before disappearing in his room first and then rushing into the bathroom.

Looking down at your attire you decide it’ll be better if you threw on some sweats. Harry clearly got a little uncomfortable seeing you so bare, so it’s better to cover up. You’ll just take them off when you go to bed.

Harry doesn’t take too long in there, and when he joins you on the couch you are pretty sure he took a cold shower since no steam followed him when he left the bathroom. His eyes flicker to your now covered legs, but he doesn’t say anything, just makes himself comfortable next to you.

“You like it?” he asks nodding at the TV.

“Yeah, he is such an asshole, but it’s funny,” you huff. “Hey, I took a few pictures tonight. Wanna see if you like any of them?”

“Sure,” he nods pushing himself up a little as you unlock your phone and show him the photos you took of him and the band while performing.

Some of them ended up really cool, you were able to catch the lights and their movements just the right way, especially one stands out where he was holding out a note, basically screaming into the mic, he really looks like a rockstar on that one.

“Can you send me this one?”

“Done,” you smile at him and glancing over you see that he opens the Instagram app on his phone. You watch him crop and adjust it a little bit, then tag his bandmates and finally, he posts it.

“Wow, this is the first picture on your page with you actually on it,” you tease him.

“So you’ve been stalking my profile?” he smirks at you.

“I wanted to check you out before I moved in, but your social media was no help in that.”

“Yeah, I’m not a fan of posting that much, but this was a cool picture.”

“It’s an honor to know that I took the first one featuring you.”

“Actually, this is the second one, but it is the first one where my face is visible,” Harry tells you before turning his attention back to the TV, but the gears start to turn wildly in your mind, trying to remember which picture could be the other one.

Later, when you’re lying in your bed with your door closed, you pull up his profile and stat scrolling down. Most of the pictures fall out, because they have absolutely no trace of any human being on them. But then you stop at the one that features a black silhouette of a man, the one you thought wasn’t him.

Opening up you tap on the tag and see that it leads to Mitch’s profile, but now that you’ve met him, you’re pretty sure it’s not him in the picture. So you take a closer look and as you go over the small details, like the line of his neck, how wide his shoulders are and the untamed curls, you soon realize that it is indeed Harry in the photo.

You push down a moan when realization sets in, because that means that you’re staring at the naked silhouette of Harry and it immediately starts a fire between your legs.

“Jesus,” you whisper as you let yourself stare at the photo a little longer. You weren’t expecting it, but it’s surely making you feel some kind of way.

Locking your phone you throw it to your nightstand before you bury your head into your pillow. You have to press your thighs together quite tightly to make the throbbing sensation stop so you can finally fall asleep. Well, it takes some time before that happens and it’s quite torturous.

  Unlike how you planned, Rita finally gets you to download Tinder and give it a try. She helps you set up your profile, and though at first it feels incredibly awkward, you slowly adjust to being out there on the virtual market.

You start swiping left and right whenever you are bored during classes or you’re having a break from studying. Your matches start to pile up and soon enough you start getting messages as well. You reply to the ones you like or find funny and creative, giving them a chance, but not many end up going too far. Somehow the conversations always die down and you lose interest in the person.

Only one guy gets as far as asking you out and getting a yes as an answer. Jordan is a physics major and seemed like a nice and funny guy through the messages, good-looking too, so you decided to give it a go.

So Friday evening you dolled yourself up, put on a nice blouse with your favorite skinny jeans and black heels, ready to head out to your first ever Tinder date.

As you walk out of your room you find Harry in the kitchen in his basketball shorts and a simple black t-shirt making himself a cup of tea. The shorts are hanging low on his waist and as he reaches up to get the hones from the cupboard you get a glimpse of the soft skin on his lower waist. You quickly look away before you could have any further thoughts about what else is under the waistband of his shorts.

“Oh, where are you heading all dressed up?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

“I actually have a date,” you admit nervously as you grab your keys and put it away in your purse.

“Lucky guy,” he smiles and you can feel your cheeks heating up again. There’s just something in the way he compliments you, it makes your knees go jelly.

“Thanks. I’ll see you later? I’m not sure when I’ll be back,” you tell him grabbing your jacket from the hanger next to the front door.

“Have fun,” he nods before you walk out.

 Jordan proves himself to be quite frankly the same guy you got to know through messages. He takes you to this Mexican themed bar and you are just chatting over some exciting looking cocktails, but you find yourself zoning out sometimes.

What is Harry doing right now? Is he staying at home? I should have asked if he had any plans. Maybe he is hooking up with someone right now.

You find yourself thinking about way more than you probably should and it’s making you lose your shit. So maybe this is why, or because Rita told you to just go with the flow, but when Jordan asks if you want to go up to his place you say yes.

It’s as awkward and bad as you were expecting, unfortunately. There’s a reason why you don’t hook up with every random guy you go out with once. You are totally on different pages, but when you are lying under him on his bed, you just know there’s no way out.

It’s not that he forces you, because you’re sure he would have stopped if you asked, but it would be so awkward to just walk out because you weren’t feeling the vibe. So at least one of you should enjoy it.

You should deserve an Oscar for that orgasm you fake, it’s so believable. Jordan doesn’t seem to notice that you felt absolutely nothing, just frustration and impatience, he tries to make you stay the night, but you save yourself with a lie that you have to wake up early in the morning so it’s best if you head home.

Your frustration just grows on your way home. You were really hoping to get laid tonight, so maybe that could stop you from fantasizing about Harry, because your thoughts have been wild since you found out that he is the one on that Instagram picture. It doesn’t help that he has been walking around shirtless quite a lot.

Shameful or not, you even touched yourself once thinking about him. You were home alone after a particularly boring day so you thought you’d just get yourself off. Before you could realize where your thoughts have wandered, you were moaning his name as you came hard. You couldn’t look into his eyes that day when he came home, he probably thought you were nuts, basically running away from him.

It’s almost midnight when you get back home, you were expecting Harry to be asleep by now since he has band practice in the morning, but you are surprised to see light coming from his room. As you close the front door, kicking your heels off he walks out, of course, without a shirt, his glorious body on full display.

“Hey, how was your date?” he asks as you step to the fridge to get yourself something to drink. You’ve been so damn thirsty since Jordan was… done with you, you could have asked for some water at least, but you just wanted to leave as fast as possible.

“Ugh, don’t even ask,” you whine, leaning against the counter.

“That bad?”

“Worse,” you roll your eyes and Harry chuckles softly.

“Come on, it couldn’t be that bad if you came home so late.”

“Well, it did start off nice, but I shouldn’t have said yes when he asked if I wanted to go to his place.”

“Oh.”

“Worst sex of my life, I wanted out the moment we arrived, to be honest,” you honestly say, feeling a little weird that you’re talking to Harry about it, but you just want to get it off your chest.

“Then why didn’t you just leave?”

“Dunno, I just… I was hoping for just a little satisfaction, but I guess I asked for too much,” you sigh finishing up your water and you walk past him with the intention to grab your pajamas and have a shower that would wash away the happenings of the night, but Harry’s voice stops you.

“Not everything is lost just yet.” Turning around you give him a puzzled look.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He bites into his bottom lip and lets his eyes travel down your body, his intent gaze sends a shiver down your spine. When his eyes return to your gaze your heart is wildly beating against your chest.

“I mean that… I can make you feel good, if you want.”

Your mouth hangs open and your eyebrows shoot up at the blunt offer he just made. At first you’re not even sure you heard him right, but as you replay his words you realize that you indeed heard him crystal clear.

“Are you messing with me right now?” you ask, feeling like it’s all just a joke. He did not just offer to satisfy you because you complained to him about how bad your date was.

Harry takes a few steps closer to you, a small smirk tugging on his lips.

“Not really. You want to get off and I would love to be the one to help you with it.”

“But… we live together,” you say and realize how stupid this just sounded, but you hope he gets what you were trying to say.

“So? Does that mean we can’t fuck?”

The way he said that makes your legs go weak for sure. You’ve been fantasizing about things similar to this, but those were nowhere near to actually hear him propose the idea of fucking.

“But… it’ll be weird, won’t it?”

“Only if we make it.”

He walks closer, closing the distance between the two of you and he cups your cheek in his hand as his eyes flicker down to your lips.

“Harry…” you breathe out, but you already know you gave in. There’s no way you can say him no, not after weeks of dreaming about the exact same thing.

“Just stop thinking,” he tells you before pressing his lips against yours.

He kisses you hard and you gladly let his tongue push into your mouth within a second, kissing him back with the same passion. You wrap your arms around his neck as his hands travel down on your sides until they reach your ass and they give it a bold squeeze, making you moan into his lips. You feel him grin as his hands move over to your thighs and he urges you to jump and so you do, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Though you keep your eyes closed, kissing him hard, you can tell he brings you to the couch, laying you down to your back, holding himself up above you. He starts kissing down your jawline and neck, sucking and biting on the sensitive skin. His hands grab the hem of your shirt and you lift yourself up a bit so he can pull it off, throwing it away to somewhere behind the couch. While his lips are sucking on your breasts wherever they are bulging out from the lacy bra, his hands work fast on your jeans, undoing the button and the zipper, tugging them down until you can just kick them right off.

“Matching set? You were really counting on having a good time tonight,” he mumbles against your tummy as he kisses his way down on your body.

His right hand reaches up and cups your breast before it slides under you and easily unclasps your bra. You quickly slide the straps off and throw it to the side, so now you are lying under him only in your panties, whimpering and panting at every kiss he leaves on your body.

“What do you want, Y/N?” he hums glancing up at you, sitting between your legs as he slides just one finger over your soaking wet panties, running it along your throbbing center.

“Fuck, I want you,” you breathe out.

“How exactly do you want me?”

“Jesus, just eat me out, Harry!” you shamelessly moan and he smugly smirks before he hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them down, throwing it to the ground.

Now you’re lying completely naked in front of him, and he pushes your knees farther apart, looking down at you with lustful eyes.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this,” he growls as he gets closer and without a warning, he licks into you.

You moan in sensation as he starts sucking on your clit, his tongue working perfectly against your bud. Your hands find their way into his hair and you grab a handful of it in each. Oh, how many times you’ve thought about doing this!

“Harry!” you cry out when you feel him push a finger into you, slowly pumping it in and out a few times before he adds another to it. He quickly picks up his pace as he keeps sucking on your clit, getting you closer to your orgasm with every lick.

“Fuck, I’m so close!” you moan, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you struggle to even breathe.

“Cum for me, baby,” he mumbles against your wet clit and just a few more pumps later you came, screaming his name.

“Fucking hell, Harry!” you breathe out when he climbs up on you smirking.

“You think you can handle another one?” he asks, pecking your lips softly. Looking down you see how hard he is and even if you were on the verge of dying you would have said yes. There’s no way you let him get up from this couch unsatisfied after the orgasm he just gave you.

Instead of saying anything, you push on him until he is sitting on the couch and you have your knees on his sides.

“I think you are a little overdressed, aren’t you?” you ask teasingly as you bring a hand down to his erection, cupping it through his shorts and underwear.

Harry cranes his neck so his lips could meet yours again as he lifts his hips up, pushing his shorts down along with his boxers. You sit back down to his lap and his erection presses against your wet folds making you moan into his mouth.

“Do you want me to suck you off?” you ask breathlessly, but Harry shakes his head.

“I would last, I just want to fuck you,” he growls and you swear to God that was the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

“Condom, we need a condom,” you tell him, still kissing his lips.

You get off him and he quickly runs into his room, shortly returning with a condom between his teeth. He rips the package on his way and falls back to the couch, rolling it on carefully. When he is done you swing your leg over him and get on top again, holding onto his broad shoulders. He grabs the base of his cock and lines himself up to your center and you give yourself a moment to admire his naked beauty right in front of you.

You look into his sparkling eyes and leaning down you kiss him hard as you slowly ease down to his length, his cock slowly filling you up fully.

“Oh fuck!” he moans at the feeling of you around him. His fingers dig deep into your waist as you stay still for a few moments, adjusting to his length. “You alright?” he asks breathlessly. Your eyes meet his and you nod a little before you start moving.

It takes a few moments to find the right pace and get yourself comfortable, but when you finally do, you just can’t stop. His hands are on your ass as he guides your hips a little and you feel the rings on his fingers against your heated skin. He buries his face into your neck nibbling and kissing on the soft skin wherever he reaches.

“Fuck, you look so fucking hot, Y/N,” he grunts when you let your head fall back, feeling your orgasm slowly building up again.

“Harry, I’m gonna cum again,” you pant, picking up a faster pace, desperate for release.

“Cum for me, baby. Let me make you feel good!” he moans wrapping his arms around you as he holds you still, stopping you from moving, but instead he starts thrusting into you, his cock buries so deep into your pussy, your eyes roll back into your head from the feeling.

“Yes! Don’t fucking stop!” you scream as he keeps fucking you hard.

It doesn’t take too long until you fall completely apart and cum again, your legs basically turning into jelly. Just a few thrusts later Harry cums as well, thrusting deep into you a few more times as he moans into your neck.

You lie completely numb on him, his fingers gently stroking your naked back as you try to come back to reality. When you lean back and your eyes meet again you are still speechless.

“I’ve literally wanted it since the day you walked into this place,” he admits with a soft chuckle.

“Really?” you giggle shyly.

“Oh, really. Seeing you around, sometimes without a bra under your shirt completely killed me most of the time.”

Your cheeks are heating up, you didn’t think he noticed when you weren’t wearing a bra.

“Don’t be so shy, you have amazing tits, you are not allowed to wear a bra anymore around here,” he teases you grinning as you laugh and leaning down you kiss him shortly.

“I had quite a few fantasies about you too,” you admit making him raise his eyebrows.

“Really?”

“Mhm, especially after you walked out of the bathroom naked, even though I didn’t even see your dick then.”

Harry chuckles lightly as he pushes his hair back from his forehead, resting his head against the back of the couch.

“So…” you shyly start, ”what now?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that… we live together and we just fucked. What does this mean for the future?”

“Well, I thought that next time we could do it the right way. I could take you out on a proper date, and then fuck you on the kitchen counter.”

You laugh at how blunt he is, but you love the idea he just proposed.

“Okay. Sounds fine by me.”

[shutupanddance]

To Debate, or Not To Debate

This story was developed by @sopanngon​ and I, and written by me.

Tagging @girloncorneliastreet​

- Your role is in the West Wing’s communications department, writing all the things that no one else wants to write. Memos about the National Zoo, apologies for tours gone wrong, etc. You love your job, but you have one problem: your massive crush on Josh Lyman. And the fact that he’s dating Amy Gardner.

- Josh knows who you are, especially because you’re friends with Donna, but you’re quiet and you tend to keep to yourself. So he doesn’t talk to you a lot. He thinks you’re cute, but that’s about it.

- It isn’t until one day, when Sam has gone psychotic, and Toby is too busy screaming at people to get any work done, that your writing ability comes to light.

- The President needs a speech prepared for a group of soldiers who have just come back from deployment, but his go-to speech writers are losing their minds. Leo recommends you.

- Josh shows up late to the party after some meetings on the Hill, and he arrives just as the speech is starting. He’s blown out of the water. It’s the most poetic, most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. When it’s over, everyone rushes over to Sam to offer their congratulations. He just shakes his head and points to you, who are standing off to the side of the crowds, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

- Josh waits until everyone is back in the West Wing, and people have stopped assaulting you with compliments, to find you.

- You’re hunkered down in your office with a massive hoodie on and some soft music playing, looking a little frazzled.

- He says a soft “hey”, and you look up to see your crush standing there with a smile on his face.

“That speech was amazing. You did a really good job.”

You barely manage a “thanks”.

He says “Yeah.” And then disappears.

- Now if there’s one thing Josh can do, it’s recognize talent and push people into where they’re supposed to be. He wants to find you a better job, but every time he tries to casually bring up the subject of finding you a place where you can really shine, you shut him down pretty quickly. Josh isn’t ready to give up yet, though.

- He discovers one day that not only are you a great writer, but you’re also good with the spoken word.  - Amy had just broken up with him, having gotten tired of the work-life juggling act. Josh is pretty beat-up about it.  - Everyone in the White House knows what happened, so he’s gotten lots of pitiful looks. He just wants to move on, though.

- It’s late and he’s working through some last-minute stuff when he hears a super soft knock at the doorway. You’re standing there.

“Hi!” He says, sitting up in his chair. You’ve never come to his office to talk before. You smile.

“Can I come in?”

He nods and you enter on quiet feet, settling into the chair across from him.

“Are you okay?” You ask and he lets out a rough “yeah” but he can tell you’re not buying it. So you talk it out with him in your slow, quiet manner, and by the time you leave, he feels a million times better. He’s not even sure how you did it.  - Now, Josh knows you’ve got a voice, and he wants you to use it. He wants to see if you can debate. Whenever he gets the chance, he tries to get you to argue with him. About taxes, oil, abortion, whatever. But every time he disagrees with you, you simply say “That’s an interesting way of looking at things!” And move on. For whatever reason, you’re not taking the bait. But Josh knows that if you can argue, you could become senior staff. And he wants that.

- But then, he finds it. A paper you wrote in college about how new age capitalism restricts the flow of movement on the social ladder, rather than letting people shuffle around like it’s supposed to. Your paper is so well-written, well-researched, and passionate that Josh thinks he’s found your buttons.

- The issue of tax-deductible tuition comes up and you’re eager to help out. You’re working alone in your office when Josh comes in to talk about the issue, and he casually makes a statement about how if parents can’t afford the tuition, they should be finding better jobs. You go berserk.

- Josh is immediately infatuated with you. You debate him until he’s been ground into dust. There’s no question who won this, even with him trying his best. He’s got this massive grin on his face while you’re yelling, but suddenly, your voice cracks. And tears start falling.

- He’s really not sure what to do so he grabs you a tissue and tells you to sit down. You settle into your couch and sob quietly, hands clenched over your face. Josh rubs your back. Once you’re done, you apologize, but he’s more concerned about what caused the tears.

- You explain that you really hate arguing. Like, really really hate it. And you like him so much and didn’t want to yell at him. He’s shocked.

“You can yell at me! I can take it, believe me.” He says.

“I know. But I still hate doing it.”

- Josh feels bad for trying to get you to argue with him now. He cups his hand on your shoulder and gently pulls you in, until you’re resting on his chest, and he’s reclined into the couch. Your breathing begins to even. He wraps his other arm around your waist, squeezing gently, and you snuggle into his neck.

- After this, Josh doesn’t try to push your buttons again. But he finds that, after your crying episode, if he wants an opinion from you, all he has to do is ask. You won’t argue with him, but you’ll calmly and quietly explain your point of view, and he can do with it what he wants. A strong friendship forms.

- Because Josh is so combative, you often end up going in after a meeting to clean things up with whoever he just yelled at. Donna has you help him write nicer emails, which usually includes him typing insults, you smacking his head, then the text disappearing and a new line being written in more “diplomatic” terms. Because of how close the two of you are becoming, there are times when you’ll be in the Oval Office preparing a statement, working on a bill, etc.

- The problem with that is you still hate arguing. So you tend to keep to yourself during these meetings.

- It’s one day, when your work is stacking up massively, while you’re in the Oval with a couple of the Joint Chiefs, that the President asks for your opinion on contacting the Saudi embassy about something. You give your suggestion, but Nancy McNalley doesn’t agree, and begins to argue. You want to shut up, but the President asks for you to defend your point, so soon you’re caught up in a debate about foreign relations.

- You miraculously make it to your office before breaking down. You want to curl up in a ball and sleep, but you have way too much work to do. Often helping the Senior Staff with their work is great until they all need your assistance at once.

- But Donna knocks softly on your door.

“Hey, Josh sent me to help you with your work.”

- That night, by the time you get home, you feel a lot better. And the desk clerk in your complex says that there are some flowers here for you?

A beautiful bouquet with daisies, roses, and a few white tulips. There’s a note.

I heard about your meeting in the Oval today. I hope you put Donna to good use.

Feel better.

Yours,

Josh

- People figure out pretty fast that Josh is suddenly listening to another voice besides his own. As soon as they figure out it’s you, congressmen and senators and those running for office find their way to your door. Though you’re usually not a fan of attention, you enjoy hearing what they have to say. If you agree, you bring it up with Josh. He might give some noncommittal answer, but he almost always does what you recommend, whether he realizes it or not.

- And Josh will fight and fight for you. When Sam leaves, he pushes Leo to give you more responsibility in the communications department. While Toby handles the more political events, you’re perfect for when the President needs to sound poetic.

- Leo also figures out that Josh is much calmer and quieter around you. Partially, it’s that you relax him, but also it’s because he doesn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. So if Josh is running a meeting into the ground, you get called in to sit in the corner and eat whatever food is on the table. It gives him a reality-check, and you’re really good at smoothing relationships over once he shuts up.

- Josh finds that eating lunch with you is a great way to get his thoughts together. You’re a really good listener, and you’re always in the food for free food.

- CJ calls it your daily “lunch date”. Donna picks that up.

“Hi, I need to see Mr. Lyman?”

“I’m sorry, he’s on his lunch date right now.”