#Don't think Miles wouldn't show it off

[prettypieck]

ᴄᴀᴍ ɢɪʀʟ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Xavier x Reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: cam girl reader and her sweet friend Xavier who sheepishly agrees to sleep with her for 'content', but ends up fucking her so good that it starts to look a little too real on camera

ᴀ/ɴ: This is my first time posting on Tumblr, so please go easy on my writing lol. I also wrote this at 2am hehe. 3.6k words purrrr.

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: Xavier, Xavier smut, love and deepspace smut, MDNI!, backshots.., fingering, idk what else to put

It was one of those days... you counted through the tips you earned at the local cafe you worked at and realized you were short to be able to pay your rent this month. You throw yourself on your couch in frustration, it was time to do your little side hustle again, except the side hustle isn't actually that little. You log onto your account on your phone and see all the money you were making from your previous videos, if it wasn't obvious, you were a cam girl.

It was something you started about a year ago, you would only film solo on your bed with all the different toys you owned. However, you noticed recently that your views were beginning to tank, maybe you needed to do something different to bring the attention of your audience back.

You quickly post on your account about anyone having any suggestions for your next video. Immediately, responses begin to flood in with people recommending the same thing: film with someone. With the amount of responses you were getting, you would be able to pay rent for next month as well.

You throw your phone on the couch and stare at the ceiling. Fuck. Who could you film with? Who would actually be down for that? You close your eyes and think about your options. But you startle when you hear a loud thud coming from the floor above you and then it hits you.

Xavier...

Your sweet neighbor and dearest friend, maybe he wouldn't mind, but then again he's so reserved and quiet you don't know if he'll even say yes to it. You grab the pillow next to you and scream into it from embarrassment of something you haven't even done yet.

Fuck it, asking him is better than getting evicted. You get up and smooth down your outfit and try to be presentable before heading up a floor to his place. Your heart goes a million a mile as you raise your hand and knock on his door.

You stand and wait as you hear shuffling on the other side, he was coming to the door. When it opens, Xavier stands there with his ruffled hair and rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

"Y/N," he says in his soft voice, "come in." He opens the door wider and lets you in, you rub your arm and walk in. Why were you acting like you've never been in his apartment? You wanted to smack yourself to stop being so shy about asking this silly question. Maybe you need to ease into it...

"Hey Xavier, what was that loud crash I heard earlier," You ask as you walk to his couch and take a seat amongst all his plushies that he had. He walks over after closing his door and picks up one of the plushies off the ground and raises it to show you, "this is the reason."

You follow him with a look of confusion as he also sits on the couch as well, stretching his arms back behind the couch. He lets out a chuckle at your puzzled face, "I guess the plushie we won last week at the arcade together isn't happy in my home, I got up after my nap to grab some water and tripped on it."

You laugh at that, Xavier was always tripping and falling. "Maybe the plushie would rather be with me, I'm the one who got it out the claw machine after you basically wasted all our tokens," you tease him and at that he rolls his eyes playfully.

"Be my guest," he yawns again and raises his arms above his head in another stretch and that's when your eyes begin to wander. His plain white t-shirt just slightly stretched at the collar rode up when he raised his arms and you can see his abs underneath. Your eyes wander even lower where he's manspreading and you notice his grey joggers, and your throat goes dry at the obvious bulge right in the middle. Woah, he was packing. You snap out of looking when he stops and looks over at you, "What's wrong?"

You blink at him twice, "what are you talking about?" He tilts his head slightly, like he's analyzing you, making you more nervous. "You're really red, are you feeling feverish?"

You flush even more at that, why can't you control yourself. "No," you inhale sharply, "actually- I came here to ask you something." You grip the end of your shorts in nervousness and your eyes look around before you finally have the confidence to look at Xavier again. You see he hasn't moved his gaze away from you, he blinks and waits for you to continue speaking. You flush at his undivided attention, Xavier used to be shy when you guys first became friends, but now he has no problem holding your stare.

"Uhm, so you know how I work at the cafe," he nods at that and you continue with a sigh, "well... sometimes I can't make the rent, so I also have a second job and it's online. I make content and I was wondering if you could help me with it."

Xavier's eyebrows come together like he's thinking about something, "...content? What kind of content?" It seems like he's not following what you're saying, you feel like you're corrupting an innocent soul who clearly doesn't dabble in this kind of stuff. Suddenly, you feel like aborting this mission.

"You know what, never mind," you say quickly as you get up from the couch to leave, but you barely make it a step away before Xavier grabs your wrist. Your body is hot in embarrassment, but you turn to look at him still seated on the couch, he looks at his hand on your wrist before looking up at you.

"I'll help you."

You blink once and then you blink twice. "Really?" He nods and you sit back down on the couch when he tugs on your wrist lightly, you liked that Xavier was willing to help, but you needed to be honest about what he was getting himself into. You close your eyes for a brief second and then blurt it out, "I'm a cam girl."

It's deathly silent and you keep your eyes shut as your face flushes once again. After what feels like a minute, you open your eyes and Xavier is staring at you, but this time just as flushed as you are. You can't help yourself when you begin to ramble to help save this situation, "I understand if you don't want to be the one to have sex with me, especially on camera, even though your face won't be shown. I've always done everything on my own. This is also new to me, I just couldn't think of anyone else that would be willing to help me-"

You stop when Xavier interrupts you, "I'll do it."

"Really?!" Another nod from him and you throw yourself at him for a hug. He catches you as you say a million thank you's.

Eventually you are back in your apartment that same night after your shower to prepare to film with Xavier. You gave him a time to come over earlier and were now wearing your best lingerie under your robe and had done your hair and makeup. The camera was set up in your bedroom, you decided it was best to film and post the video later rather than be live. You were afraid Xavier would accidentally show face and you wanted to avoid the awkward parts with him being out there on the internet.

Finally, there was a knock at the door and you go answer. Xavier was dressed casually and you watch him as he looks down at you and then your robe before his ears flush and he looks away for a second. "Hey," you breathe and he gives you one of his small smiles as he enters your place. "Hi."

He takes off his shoes at the entrance and follows you to your bedroom. You glance at him, "are you ready?"

He smiles at you again, "yeah, are you?" You laugh a little at that, before nodding. The next five minutes are spent with you adjusting the camera while Xavier sits in the middle of your bed awkwardly, you were making sure to just show him from his neck down. Once that's set you click record and walk over to your drawer and pull out one of your vibrators.

Xavier follows your every move as you move towards him and take off your robe in one quick motion, leaving you in only your underwear and bra. He feels like the breath left his lungs as he trails his gaze down all of you and back up. You are beautiful. Perfect. He couldn't believe he was going to be able to hold you like this, touch you like this.

You crawl onto the bed and get comfortable between his legs as you look at yourself on the camera monitor. You were much smaller than Xavier, so your whole body and face was in view. "Here," you tilt your head back to look at his face as your hand holds out the vibrator to him. He flushes when he looks at it and then back to you, but you feel yourself pulse when you see the slight heat behind his eyes.

He takes it from you before hesitantly asking, "Can- Can I touch you?" Your heart races in anticipation as you nod at him.

Your body lights up with goosebumps when you feel his left hand trail up and down your waist. You guys hold each other's gaze, as you relax back into his chest. Your eyes drop to see him put the vibrator down next his thigh and he raises his right hand to gently grab your jaw. His thumb caresses your face as he stares at you, and his gaze alone makes you feel damp between your legs and he hasn't really touched you like that yet.

He continues his gentle rubbing and then his hooded gaze drops from your eyes to your mouth. You don't remember whether it was him or you to initiate it, but you guys begin making out. It's gentle, sensual. His lips are soft and every so often his tongue begins to peak through and you allow him in. Your tongues begin fighting for dominance and the kiss begins to get a little more heated, you reach your right arm over to the back of his neck to keep his mouth on yours.

Your body tingles as he hums into the kiss and breaks it to look into your own heated gaze before going in for another kiss. While this continues, his right hand reaches down to your thigh and he rubs it before moving your legs to be against his spread ones. This leaves you open right to the camera and you gasp lightly when you feel the slight breeze against your damp underwear.

Your body slightly jolts when you feel something rubbing against your clothed sex. You break the kiss this time and look down to see Xavier rubbing the vibrator up and down your sex before you throw your head back against his shoulder. He takes the opportunity to kiss your exposed neck and shoulder, as his left hand goes up to squeeze your breast through your bra.

You can't stop the hums and pants that leave your mouth before you can't take the teasing anymore, "more." "More?" Xavier leaves another kiss on your neck before looking down at your flushed face. "Then beg for it."

Your breath hitches, was this really Xavier? Your quiet friend who is the sweetest person you know asking you to beg him. But your body is so heated you actually listen to him, "Please, I want more. I want you."

You watch Xavier as he groans at your words before diving in for another kiss, this time you feel his hands at the waistband of your underwear as he pulls them off. You raise your hips and then your legs as you help with sliding them off. You keep your legs parted and when you guys break away from your kiss for the third time, you can't help but watch Xavier's face. He looks into your eyes before he looks down and groans again, "Look at how pretty you are."

"Touch me, " you beg with a pout on your face, "please."

Xavier wastes no time in tossing the vibrator to the side as his hand reaches between your legs and his finger grazes between your wet folds. "You're soaked," he says into your ear and your eyes rolls when he rubs on your clit for a quick second before going back down to your entrance, teasing you with his middle finger.

Your hips roll in attempt to get his fingers to fill you up, and when he finally finishes teasing you, he sinks one of his digits in. Your eyes roll back with a light moan and when he pulls the finger back out, he eases back in with two this time. One of your hands grips his thigh while the other holds on to the bicep of the arm that's in between your legs. Your hand nor your vibrator would have felt as good as his hand did.

Xavier was reaching spots inside you that had you writhing against him and moaning. He kept talking you through it, "you're doing so good baby." You feel yourself clench around his fingers at the nickname and he hums at that. "You like when I call you baby?"

You can't stop yourself from nodding your head. Your high was coming so fast, your panting louder as your body began to shake. Xavier clearly noticed this, pulling his fingers out at the last second to rub them against your folds, purposely avoiding your clit. You groan out in protest and he shakes his head at that, "Use your words baby. What do you want?"

You have no shame holding his gaze when you speak, "I want you to make me cum. Please."

He smirks at you, "good girl."

You don't expect it when he plunges his fingers into you and begins a deep pace that has you back on edge. Your moans get louder and your nails dig into him when you finally reach your climax.

You feel like you had the life fucked out of you, but it was hardly over. Xavier brings his hand filled with your juices to his lips and sucks them clean. That makes you only want him even more, and you get on your knees in front of him. Reaching the hem of his shirt to help him take it off and then the next moment you're both naked and making out once again.

You both can't get enough of touching each other everywhere.

Xavier positions you on your hands and knees in front of the camera. You both moan when he begins to rub himself against your folds. None of you seemed to care that he wasn't even wearing a condom, you just wanted him inside you already.

"I want you inside me," you whine and Xavier hums in response, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you push your hips purposely back into his and feel the head of his cock dipping in. He lets out a grunt before tightening his grip on one of your hips and then slowly begin pushing in.

Your mouth falls open as your face scrunches up while he stretches you out inch by inch. Xavier was definitely more on the larger side, so you needed time to adjust. You can't help but let out little whines and pants, before turning your head around to look up at him from behind you. He felt like he could come just like this, the look on your face enough to send him over the edge.

"You're taking me so well baby," he praises as he finally bottoms out inside you.

At some point, you can't remember how many times you've came already. Xavier was relentless, changing the pace each time he made you cum.

“Look at the camera,” Xavier grunts hoarsely as he grabs your hair and pulls your head back. You let out a moan as you lift back to rest on your forearms, arching your back and looking at yourself on the camera. 

You looked more fucked out of your mind than you usually do in your typical content. You could see the skin around your eyes turning red from the tears, the blush on your cheeks and the way your reddened lips hang open with drool threatening to spill from the corners. And this is all due to the cause of one thing.

“X-Xavier,” you can’t help but moan out his name, knowing you’re going to have to cut that part out later to keep his identity a secret. He groans in response, his thrusts not stopping their pace, you feel him kissing your cervix with each one. He pulls out slightly more than halfway and then goes in with a grind at the end of each one. 

“Yes,” he’s breathless, “yes, baby.” You stare at the his sculpted body from behind you through the camera, biting your lip and whimpering as you can only see his mouth hang open. The rest of his face cut off from his height on his knees and the fact that this is how you’ll keep his identity a secret when you post it. But it’s hard when you can feel his name on the tip of your tongue once again, you want to chant it like a mantra. You want to see him.

Fuck it. 

You shake your head slightly and feel his grip loosen on your hair, and you turn your head around to look at him. The sight of him alone has you clenching around him and your eyes rolling, he was glistening with sweat and the look in his hooded eyes was darker than you’ve ever seen. His damp hair stuck to his forehead. Upon seeing your face as well, Xavier couldn’t help but moan, his brows furrowing, and he grips your hips tighter. You looked so beautiful like this, just like this for him. 

You begin pushing yourself back into him again to meet his thrusts halfway and your mouth hangs open once again. Both of you held eye contact, not bothering to even remember that the camera was still rolling with your face not in it. 

“Xavier you feel so good,” you slur your words as you feel so drunk off of every thrust he gives you. His dick was touching places you couldn’t yourself. Xavier was thinking the same thing, your pussy was sucking him in and he felt its pulse with every movement. The way you moaned his name made him even more feral. You felt what he was feeling and now he was never going to let you go. 

“Fuck it,” he says under his breath and you gasp as he suddenly presses forward and his chest is against your back. He wraps his bicep around your neck, using his elbow to prop him up as the lock around the front of your neck has you facing towards the cameras once again. 

“Like that,” you moan loudly as he continues to pound into you, squeezing your neck and face in his arm. Xavier’s face was showing in the frame now, he no longer cared to hide while fucking you for your content. This felt personal now. 

You can feel his breath in your ear as he pants and grunts right next to it. Yet you still can’t take your eyes off him on the monitor, watching him turn his head to nip at the shell of your ear and you can see his smirk forming as he makes a ‘hmph’ sound. 

“Like this,” he grunts as you feel his other arm reach down under you and find your clit. You squeal at the sensation added with everything else and if it weren’t for Xavier pressing you into this position, you would have collapsed. 

“Mmhmm,” you hum as he works you better than you can do with yourself and your toys. 

“Look at us baby,” Xavier’s head is right next to yours on the frame, both of you flushed, “we’re perfect together, this pussy was made for me. Gonna fill you with my cum and you’re gonna take it like a good girl.”

He accentuates the last two words with two hard thrusts. All you can do is choke on your own words as your vision goes white and you feel your walls clench around him. He lets out a groan of your name before you feel the warmth of his cum filling you up.

You both are panting and sweaty as you guys collapse and lay there for a second. You feel like you can't move. Xavier kisses your shoulder before getting up and clicking the end of the recording on the camera. He walks out of sight before coming back with a warm towel as he gently helps clean you up.

Xavier goes back to being the sweet man he's always been. And as he comes back into bed to cuddle with you, you realize you guys aren't going to be just friends.

[harunayuuka2060]

Ace: Bruh-

MC: *works as a barista* What?

Ace: You can make coffee?

MC: Why? It's not like it's hard, you dumbass.

Sebek: You shouldn't be addressing your customers that way, human!

MC: Shut up, you damn half-fae. No one's talkin' to you.

Sebek: Krk... Hmph!

Ace: You're so rude.

MC: Hurry up, what's your order?

Ace: Uh, I'll get a cappuccino.

Sebek: Mine's affogato!

MC: Okay. Go to your seats.

Ace and Sebek: ...

Sebek: Hmph! I wouldn't have come here if it weren’t for Waka-sama's recommendation!

MC: Then fuck off! You're not the only customer here!

Sebek: !!!

Ace: Yo, what the fuck-

Ace and Sebek: *have observed that even when MC is rude/hostile with customers, the business's still booming*

Ace: It's surprising how this place hasn't gone bankrupt.

Sebek: According to Waka-sama, this human makes the best coffee and never gets your order wrong.

Ace: Well, they never mess with their job - whatever it is.

Sebek: Still! Is it too much to ask for them to show some basic respect?!

Ace: Yeah... I don't think you should be talking.

Sebek: What did you say, human-

Customer A: *yelling* This is not what I ordered!

MC: What's your name?

Customer A: Ethan!

MC: Ah, so you're fucking illiterate. It clearly says 'Anthony', you piece of shit.

Customer A: ...Oh.

Customer B: *whose name is 'Anthony'* I'm sorry for the trouble, but he drank mine so...

MC: Sure. Give me a minute. *leaves for a minute then comes back with Anthony's order*

Customer A: Why do you have his order ready?

MC: I made one in advance because I could smell stupidity from miles away.

Customer A: ...

Ace and Sebek: ...

Ace: Dang.

Sebek: So this is what Waka-sama was referring to when he mentioned there’s entertainment...

[icupblog]

Where did the party go? (batfam x neglected reader) This is part 2!! part 1

Your hands shake as you bring the water to your parched lips. The cold embrace of the liquid makes you sigh in satisfaction. The outfit you were wearing suddenly felt too tight and your makeup felt like a second face on top of your own.

This was the biggest moment of your life... so far. Compared to your siblings it wasn't that big but to you, it was everything. You can't think of them now though. Even the mental image of any of your so-called family made you feel bile climb up your throat.

You don't need them, or their validation. After everything that has happened you need to forget their harsh words and unforgiving cruelty.

----------------------------------

2 years earlier

The cold hallways recognised your presence as you walked through them. You feel like a zombie, knowing who you were but pulling your body away from your brain, your mind slowing down as every-time you take another step a part of your image dies.

Maybe you were dramatic, maybe you were immature, maybe if they actually cared you wouldn't be. Your hands shake as you grip a bannister. Where were you going again. You didn't even know. Eventually you came to the familiar scene of the kitchen.

The sink was filled with dishes, had they eaten dinner already? what time was it? You hadn't even realised. All you could think of was that mask, his mask. Your supposed brother. The empty eyes that he would stare at you with when he slowly cut your skin open.

You were about to leave, the thought of food in your body made you feel sick. When you saw him. He never showed you his face but you could recognise him anywhere. He could never hide from you. You could spot him out from a mile away, seek him out in a crowd easily.

His body was fire, and yours was gasoline and paper. He would ebb away at you until all that was left was ash. His pupils widened in recognition at you. "name...hi" You couldn't move, he would attack you, throw you against the wall. As he slowly reached towards your shoulder you winced.

Was this some kind of cruel joke?, did the universe hate you that much? "listen, I-I'm sorry, I wasn't in my right mind and-" your breath became shallow. "I guess I took it out on you" tears filled your eyes, this is it, he came back to kill you. "besides me and Bruce are trying to work things out so-" he took his hand off your shoulder and put it behind his head. He wasn't touching you, could you escape? "maybe we could be a real family-" You bolted, you couldn't stay still anymore, you ducked under his arm and ran past him. Back to your room back to safety.

Turns out Jason's presence was not in fact a joke. He became part of the family, Or maybe he always was. He would make inside jokes with Damian, learn sign language for cass (something you had done when you first met her, not that she noticed). He would even hang out with Tim and Stephanie two people who could not physically stand to be around you for more than five minutes. Maybe in some way you wanted his attention because maybe if you had his you could be part of that family.

It got worse the more Dick came round, his cheery aura meant the family would constantly be around each other. And you were not part of that family. They would have movie nights (without you), hang out at arcades (without you) and even spend Christmas together (they would always forget to buy you presents). Even Bruce went along with them for gods sake, were you really worth so little? Just because you weren't in spandex? You were so insignificant that Alfred just referred to you as 'miss' almost as if he had forgotten your name.

In these moments you would think back to times when your mother held you in her arms as you opened your presents, it was never anything expensive but you would cherish every one, no matter how much it cost. When she smiled her eyes would crinkle, you always wanted that, a life full of smiles and laughter. Yet for some reason you only got sadness.

-----------------------------------

Present day

When you asked a Wayne child what they wanted to be when they were older they normally answered with something artistic and niche like when Damian said he wanted to be an artist. Except you knew he would be even more insufferable if he was one so you thought he was better staying in the tights. Or Cass wanting to do ballet, not Cass you mentally scold Cassandra, when has she ever asked you to call her Cass.

You on the other hand wanted to make an impact, a small irreversible dent on the world (not literally). So now that you are 18 you study law. Is it difficult? yes, but weirdly rewarding. Getting out of Gotham made you realise how shitty that place really is. The air felt like it was choking you and the overall atmosphere felt heavy. Moving to Metropolis was like getting a weight lifted off your shoulders.

You were able to get a scholarship with a college you had great friends. You loved how bright it was all the time, and you weren't being kidnapped every other month, you were feeling amazing.

You had made a life for yourself, a somewhat stable, broke, happy life. What you didn't expect was for the family to remember you or even worse miss you...

yippee I made another one!!

there might only be one more chapter for this series because I'm on exam leave and I'm sick but thank you for all the support!! <3

[mischivousvoid]

You will never be her

SYNOPSIS : You've been in love with your coworker forever, you sadly discover he's in love with someone else. Except, she's shattered his heart to pieces.

PAIRING : Zayne x Non-MC!Gender-Neutral Reader

TAGS : Hurt/comfort, Oneshot/Drabble, kinda-sorta-slice-of-life

❄️🍧☃️🍧❄️❄️🍧☃️🍧❄️🍧☃️🍧❄️🍧☃️🍧❄️

The first time you saw how he looks at her, it stung. I mean, it hurts, watching the man you've been pining for for the last few years be so desperately in love with someone who isn't you.

Yet somehow, what hurts even more, is that you can see from a mile away that she doesn't look at him the same way. How could she not?

Your coworker, Zayne, is perhaps the kindest, most thoughtful and caring person on Earth. He speaks in a cold and professional demeanor most of the time, and does not seem to emotionally attach to the patients, but his actions speak so much louder than his words. He stays late just to make sure things go smoothly, he checks up on patients in his free time, he stops stops by to help out people he doesn't know when he can. On the rare occasions he brings snacks for everyone, he remembers exactly what everyone is allergic to and what their favourite is.

It really is outrageous that the woman he lights up when seeing and keeps a picture of on his desk doesn't like him back. You almost think to yourself that how dare she hurt him like that. But I guess when you just don't feel the chemistry, you just don't feel the chemistry. Life is cruel sometimes...

Your heart feels like it's being squeezed and compressed into a black hole every time you look at him talk to her. One time it was so bad you almost scheduled an appointment with him to see if there's an underlying physical issue. But, no, sadly your heartbreak is emotional and has quite the obvious source... You doubt you had a chance before, you know. Zayne tends to keep his personal life out of the hospital and the hospital out of his personal life, he'd probably never go out with a coworker. And fat chance you were his taste. But seeing him so... enamoured with her. Right in front of your salad. Well, it really crushed your ribs from the inside. She didn't show up often, only some evenings to meet him after work and head off together, or occasionally as a hunter assigned to clean up when there was an incident at your hospital. But you still couldn't bear seeing them.

You sat with the feeling many evenings after work, suppressing it in the moment and putting away for crying into your pillow late at night. It sucked. It really sucked. Many sleepless nights of chest pain and close calls of being late to work because your meltdowns made you oversleep. But thanks to you processing your feelings and not ignoring them, over time, it got easier. At least, the pain didn't feel so suffocating and you made peace with the fact that you'll never have him. You felt... mildly content just seeing him happy.

Except, that didn't last. The more time passed, the more apparent it became that the woman he loved only saw him as a friend and would never "warm up and like him back" the way you thought. You don't know if he noticed that too, or if she outright rejected him, but you watched him slowly wilt. It was subtle, many people wouldn't even notice, but it was the little things. He'd eat his lunch just a little too long staring off into space, end conversations just a little too soon, stay so late at work that it wasn't just to check up on the patients anymore but quite clearly to distract himself. One day, she showed up with a man and cheerfully introduced him as her boyfriend, and said he'd be tagging along to their outing and that she hoped they'd all get along. The next week, her picture was gone from his desk. And the whole following month Zayne stayed late at work on every day and had bigger eyebags on him than you've ever seen.

This had to stop. You can't... You can't watch him destroy himself anymore. It was one thing to have your heart broken, but seeing him fall apart into pieces was so much worse.

You gathered up whatever courage you had, and invited him for coffee and pastries right after your shift ends on the day your schedule alligned. Made an excuse as to why it cannot be any later, apparently the cafe won't serve any cake after a certain hour because the owner believes sugar before bed will kill you. No, it can't be another cafe, it has to be that one, it has that special edition dessert you wanted to try forever but had no one to go with. Your treat, of course.

Somehow, he agreed. He wasn't very talkative, but you still had a good time. Doctor Zayne when he isn't a Doctor is a sight to behold... You had fun seeing all his reactions. His scrunched-up nose when he tried his drink before adding 5 spoons of sugar, his satisfied expression when finishing his 3rd slice of cake. You feel a little bad, enjoying this so much while inviting him to make sure that *he* feels better. But hey, he seems happier and he didn't overwork himself again, so maybe you deserve to enjoy this a little bit. At the end of the evening, you nod and go your separate ways.

You do this again the first time you have an opportunity, make some other outrageous excuse why it has to be right after work. And then again. And again. And every time, by some miracle, Zayne says yes. You talk more and more each time. By the third time, Zayne asks you if you'd like him to accompany you to your house. It is late, after all. In twice the time, you don't even have to ask, and he's ready to head off with you when your work is done. It becomes routine, you finish work, you go get some sweets and coffee, Zayne walks you home.

It feels like a privilege peering into his private life, to hear him talk of things other than patients and surgeries and scheduling. You learn of his terrible sweet tooth, his favourite foods, his interests out of work. You learn of his sarcastic and playful-jabs kind of sense of humour, his smile engraved to your memory. His outward cold demeanor seems like almost a facade with how warm being around him makes you feel.

You're so happy to see him better and to know these new sides to him that you don't even notice when he starts to linger around you, when it looks like he doesn't quite want to leave after walking you home, how he stands just a little closer when you walk next to each other. You're just glad to give him some company that you can tell he needed.

One fateful evening he does something you've never thought possible. He kisses you. Your mind melts while you try to process what's happening, but you instinctively kiss him back before you can even tell. You've wanted this for so long. You're not sure what you expected him to feel like, but his lips are soft and a little chilly before they warm up to yours. When the kiss turns open-mouthed, he feels much more like warm cocoa, even tastes a little like it, sugary flavour lingering after you two had your desserts earlier in the evening.

You pull away and try to hold yourself together. Emotions circle through your head, and you only manage to force out the dumbest thing you could possibly say right now.

"You know I'll never be her, right?"

You're afraid you ruined this for yourself when his face falls and he stares to the side into blank space. But he looks back at you and smiles.

"I know."

He looks a little melancholic, but he kisses you again and your worries melt away with the rest of your thoughts.

——————————————————————————

Sometimes, he still looks at her like he did before, but with an additional layer of sadness and melancholy to his expression. It doesn't hurt though. Because he looks at you with the same warmth and shine, and at least, you make him smile as well.

[bytemee]

WILDFLOWER — kim minjeong & yu jimin.

now, i know that you love me. you don't need to remind me. i should put it all behind me, shouldn't i?

synopsis. you’re heading off to college with a scholarship, leaving behind jimin—a girl who you fell for, knowing the complications and the walls she put up. then minjeong comes into the picture, someone so different, but similar at the same time, you find yourself pulled toward to her. but when jimin reappears, everything gets messy, too messy.

pairing. yu jimin x fem!reader x kim minjeong

warning(s). angst, fluff, slow burn (?), love triangle, unresolved feelings, and let me know if there's more!

words. 4.6k

authors note. tried something different w the writing style. plz enjoy & yes there will be a part two i think..........................

you don’t know when it started, this thing between you and jimin.

maybe it was the first time she laughed at one of your dumb jokes, tilting her head back like the sound was too big for her body. maybe it was the way she always waited for you after work, even when she finished before you, leaning against the doorframe of your shared space with a lazy smile.

maybe it was the way she touched you—soft, fleeting, never enough. a hand on your wrist when she wanted your attention. fingers brushing over yours when she passed you something. the occasional, completely unnecessary adjustment of your collar or your jacket.

small things.

things that added up.

“you always look at me like that.”

the words catch you off guard, spoken lazily as jimin leans back in her chair. you’re at work, supposed to be focused, but instead, your eyes must’ve lingered too long.

you blink. “like what?”

she smirks, stretching her arms above her head. “like you want to say something.”

your stomach tightens. you force a laugh, shaking your head. “you’re imagining things.”

she hums, unconvinced, but drops it. that’s how jimin is—she flirts and teases but never really lets you know where you stand.

and you, like an idiot, let her.

it goes on like this for weeks and then months. every time you gather up the courage to say something, the words die on your tongue. how could you possibly sum up how you feel? besides, there are so many reasons why you shouldn't act on it. you work together. she has a boyfriend. you're just a stupid girl with a crush, and she's…well, everything.

you tell yourself it’s not a big deal.

sure, your pulse spikes when her hand brushes yours while walking home. and sure, maybe you replay certain moments in your head—her laughing at something you said, her leaning in too close to show you something on her phone.

but it’s harmless, right? you’re friends.

and then there are nights like these.

it’s late, the sky inky black above you, and the two of you are walking in sync like always. after work, you walk home together like always. it’s unspoken at this point, a routine you never bothered to question. you live a few streets apart, close enough that it makes sense, but far enough that you both know you could’ve made different choices. she could’ve left with the others. you could’ve taken a different route.

but you never do.

“what if we just dropped everything?”

you glance at her, raising an eyebrow. “dropped everything and did what?”

“ran away. started fresh. maybe somewhere by the sea. or the mountains. someplace with no one around for miles, just trees and peace and quiet."

you laugh. "if i ran away, you'd come with me?"

"of course," she says. "who else would put up with me?"

"right, who else…"

"i mean it." her voice is soft, almost lost to the sound of your footsteps. "i wouldn't go anywhere without you."

she laughs, a sound that makes your chest ache.

you wonder if she knows what she’s doing. if she realizes how easy it is for her to say things like this, to build these little worlds between you, only to leave them behind like they never mattered.

the conversation shifts, meandering through different topics. work, dumb customers, and her latest obsession with some random drama she’s been watching. she talks about it animatedly, her hands moving as she explains some plot twist that apparently changed her life.

you’re only half-listening.

because she’s glowing under the streetlights, her eyes bright, her lips curved in a soft smile. and for a second, you let yourself imagine—

if things were different.

if she didn’t have a boyfriend.

if you were braver.

if she looked at you the way you looked at her.

but then she bumps your shoulder with hers, pulling you back to reality. “hey. you’re quiet.”

you blink. “just tired.”

she doesn’t push, doesn’t ask what’s really on your mind. instead, she nudges you again, grinning. “don’t fall asleep standing up. i’ll leave you here.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes. “no, you wouldn’t.”

she hums. “you’re right. i wouldn’t.”

and that’s the thing about jimin. she says things like that all the time—things that feel like confessions if you listen too closely. but she never follows through.

so you don’t say anything.

you just keep walking, side by side, pretending this isn’t killing you. pretending she doesn't notice. pretending it's enough.

the email comes in the morning.

a scholarship. fully funded. a chance to study something you love in a way you never thought possible.

you should be happy.

and you are.

but then there’s jimin.

and you don’t know how to tell her.

you put it off for as long as you can. days pass, filled with the same routines, the same inside jokes, the same late-night walks home. but every time you try to bring it up, the words die in your throat.

it’s stupid. she’s not your girlfriend. she’s not even yours to begin with.

but she means something to you.

and part of you is terrified that when you tell her, she’ll just… shrug and move on.

like this was never a big deal.

like you were never a big deal.

you finally tell her on a night that feels just like any other.

you’re walking home together, just like always. the sky is dark, the air is cold, and there are so many stars overhead that for a moment you forget to breathe. she’s rambling about something—work, a new song she’s obsessed with, and you’re not really listening. your heart is pounding too loud in your ears.

then—

“i got a scholarship.”

she blinks at you.

you force a laugh, rubbing the back of your neck.

it sounds fake even to your own ears.

a beat of silence, and then—

she slows. “for what?”

you tell her.

she nods, taking it in. “that’s incredible.”

there’s a pause. a beat too long.

then she asks, carefully—“where?”

your fingers tighten around your bag strap. you look at her, hoping for what? reassurance? an answer? some sign that this is more than what it feels like? "a state away."

but there isn't one.

she stops walking.

for the first time, you see it—the shift.

the way her mouth parts slightly like she wants to say something but doesn’t. the way her fingers twitch at her sides. the way her entire posture stiffens, just for a second, before she forces herself to relax.

she smiles.

it looks wrong.

"wow. that's great," she says. "congratulations."

you nod slowly, your chest tight. "thanks."

there's another pause, heavier than the last. you don't know what else to say. she doesn't seem to either. it feels like there should be something. something to make this easier. something to fix whatever this tension is. but you're both quiet, and the moment stretches out between you like an unspoken truth.

finally, she clears her throat. "well… i'm glad you told me." she starts walking again, forcing a smile. "we should celebrate."

"right. we should."

the next few days are strained. you try to act normal, but it's hard when everything feels off. when she smiles too wide and laughs too loud, like she's trying to prove something. when she avoids eye contact and changes the subject whenever you try to bring up the scholarship. when every conversation feels stilted and forced.

and you get it—she's hurting. but so are you.

so why does it feel like she's the only one allowed to show it?

on your last day at work, she walks you home again. this time she's not catching you up on her drama or talking about some new album she wants you to listen to. she's quiet, her hands shoved in her pockets as you walk side by side. the air between you is heavy with things unsaid, and you don't know how to break it. how to fix this. how to make it right before you leave.

before you go.

and before you can think better of it—

you step closer.

she doesn’t move.

your heart is in your throat. you don’t know who leans in first. maybe it’s you. maybe it’s her. maybe it doesn’t even matter.

all you know is that one second you’re standing there, drowning in the weight of goodbye, and the next—her lips are on yours. and it feels like everything. it feels like fire and ice and every cliché you've ever heard. it feels like coming home after a long day. it feels like all the times you wanted to do this and didn't. it feels like regret and relief and pain and pleasure.

it feels like love.

when she pulls away, it takes everything in you not to chase her lips. her eyes are wide, dark with want, and for a moment, you let yourself hope.

then—

she steps back.

"i'm sorry."

her voice is barely above a whisper.

your stomach drops. "jimin—"

"i shouldn't have done that." she shakes her head, running a hand through her hair. "that was a mistake."

you don't say anything. what can you say? that it wasn't? that you've been waiting for this for months? that you don't regret it? that you're in love with her?

no.

she already knows all that.

she just doesn't care.

she has a boyfriend.

she's not yours.

so you just nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. "okay."

she bites her lip. her eyes are shining. for a second, you think she might say something. apologize again, explain, and tell you what's going on. but then her expression shifts, and the moment is gone. she steps back, clearing her throat.

"i should go."

you nod. "yeah."

she turns and walks away.

you watch her go, your chest aching.

"i'll miss you."

the words slip out before you can stop them, falling into the space between you.

she freezes.

but still—

she doesn't look back.

she keeps walking.

until she's gone.

that night, you sit on your bed and stare at your phone. you could text her.

but what would you say? hey, sorry about earlier. i didn't mean to ruin things between us. i just had to know what it was like. but i won't bring it up again, i promise. everything will be normal when i get back.

you could try calling, but the idea of hearing her voice makes your stomach twist.

you could try emailing.

you could send her a letter.

you could do anything.

but you don't.

instead, you sit there, your thumb hovering over her contact info. you don't even know what you'd say. what could you possibly say that would fix this?

she has a boyfriend.

maybe it was always going to end this way.

adjusting to college is easier than you thought it would be.

maybe it's because the campus is lively, filled with people moving too fast to notice that you're still figuring things out. maybe it's because your classes keep you busy, giving you little time to dwell on the past. or maybe—maybe it's because of minjeong.

the scholarship brought you here, placing you among a team of insanely talented people. it's intimidating at first, walking into a room full of names you've only heard in passing, people who are already settled, already familiar with one another.

and then there's minjeong.

she’s quiet, reserved in a way that makes you curious. she doesn’t try to take up space like some of the others do—like yizuho, who talks with her hands and fills silences effortlessly. or aeri, whose jokes come quick and sharp, making everyone laugh. no, minjeong is different.

she listens more than she speaks. her laughter is soft, sometimes hidden behind her sleeve. but when she does talk, when she meets your gaze across the room, something settles inside you.

like maybe, for the first time in a long time, things are going to be okay.

and they are.

at first, it's hard. you miss home, miss your old job, and miss the familiarity of things. you feel out of place, like a stranger in a strange land. but then—

minjeong finds you.

at first, it's small things.

you're leaving class when you see her sitting on a bench outside, headphones in, scribbling furiously in a notebook. you stop, taking in the scene. she looks peaceful and focused, her brow furrowed as she writes. and without thinking, you step closer, leaning down to read over her shoulder.

"hey."

her voice startles you. she's looking up at you, her head tilted, a slight smile on her face. "do i know you?"

your face heats. "i'm sorry. i didn't mean to bother you."

she chuckles. "i'm kidding. what's up?"

"i just…" you trail off, your cheeks growing warmer. "i was just wondering what you were working on."

"oh." she glances down at her notebook, biting her lip. "just lyrics, nothing serious."

"can i hear them?"

her gaze flicks back to you. there's something in her eyes, a question, but she nods anyway.

and as you sit next to her on that bench, listening to her softly sing the words she's written, you feel it—a spark of something.

it grows.

mall conversations before practice, eating lunch at the same table when no one else is around. but then those casual conversations stretch longer. lunches turn into late-night talks in the dorm hallway, legs stretched out, backs against the cold wall, whispering so you don’t wake anyone up.

somewhere along the way, she becomes a constant.

you find yourself waiting for her after class just because. she leaves a seat open for you in the dining hall without asking. she steals bites of your food, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

it’s easy with her.

no games. no uncertainty. no aching question of, does she feel the same? lingering in the air like a weight on your chest.

you don’t even realize how much time you spend together until one of the others—yizuho—teases you about it.

"you two are like an old married couple," she says one day, nudging minjeong’s shoulder.

minjeong just rolls her eyes, but there’s a faint flush on her cheeks.

and you—well. you pretend not to think too hard about it.

one night, while eating together in your dorm room, the conversation drifts to relationships.

minjeong is lying on your bed, staring up at the ceiling while you sit cross-legged on the floor, picking at your food.

“what about you?” you ask, nudging her foot lightly.

she tilts her head to look at you. “what about me?”

“your love life.”

she hums, considering. “i have a boyfriend.”

something sharp twists in your stomach.

it shouldn’t.

but it does.

“oh,” you say, keeping your voice neutral. “that’s cool.”

she doesn’t elaborate, and you don’t ask any more questions.

but that weird feeling stays.

weeks pass, and things remain the same. or at least, they’re supposed to.

but you can’t stop thinking about it.

not in a jealous way—because that would be stupid, right? you don’t like her like that. you can’t like her like that. you don't do jealousy, especially not when she's not even yours to begin with. but there's something about her relationship with this guy, whoever he is, that bothers you.

maybe it's because she never talks about him.

maybe it's because this whole thing feels oddly similar to what happened with—

no.

it's not the same.

minjeong isn't like her.

you just can't figure out why you feel so uneasy about this.

one night, you bring it up again, casually, like it’s just another question. “so… how’s your boyfriend?”

minjeong hesitates.

and that’s the first sign that something’s off.

she exhales softly, pushing a hand through her hair. “if i tell you, can you not ask any more questions?”

you blink. “uh. sure?”

she sits up, meeting your gaze. “i don’t actually have a boyfriend.”

you frown. “what?”

“i just say that so people don’t try to date me.” she shrugs, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “it makes things easier.”

you don’t know what to say.

because on one hand, you’re relieved.

and on the other—

you don’t even know why you’re relieved.

you don't understand the feeling settling in your chest, the urge to reach out and take her hand. because what does it matter if she's single? it's not like you're interested. right?

one afternoon, the two of you are walking around campus when it starts to rain.

at first, you're both laughing, caught off guard by the sudden downpour. but then minjeong reaches out, her fingers curling around yours, and suddenly—you can't breathe.

she tugs on your hand, her smile bright. "come on. we can wait it out under those trees."

you nod, letting her pull you along.

the trees are large, their branches heavy with leaves, providing enough shelter from the rain. minjeong releases your hand, sitting down in the grass, and you follow suit.

there's a beat of silence.

"you're quiet," she says, nudging your knee with hers. "something wrong?"

you shake your head, trying to ignore the way your heart is racing. "no, i'm just… tired."

"oh." she studies you, her brow furrowed. "well, if there's anything—"

"i'm fine, min." you offer her a small smile, hoping it's enough. "thanks."

she hesitates, and for a moment, you think she's going to push. but then she sighs, leaning back on her hands. "if you say so."

and that's the thing.

she gets you.

she knows when to push and when to back off. she knows what you need without you having to ask. she knows how to make you smile, how to make you laugh, and how to make you forget about everything else.

forget about…jimin.

it’s been months since you last heard from jimin.

you weren’t expecting to, not really. the last time you saw her, things ended in a way that felt unfinished—like a story that cut off mid-sentence.

but then, out of nowhere, a message pops up on your phone.

can you visit during spring break? they still giive you those, right?

you stare at it for too long.

you shouldn’t go.

you should ignore it.

but you don’t.

instead, you agree, telling yourself it won't be weird.

it's just a visit.

how bad could it be?

jimin’s apartment is the same as you remember—warm, inviting, smelling faintly of vanilla and something you can’t place.

she looks the same, too.

and that’s the problem.

because she’s standing there, smiling at you like no time has passed, like she didn’t completely wreck you before you left.

“wow,” she says, closing the door behind you. “you look good.”

your chest tightens. “you too.”

dinner is weirdly intimate.

soft music plays in the background. the lights are dimmed just enough to feel cozy. the food is homemade, and she remembers all your favorites.

you talk about old memories, about late-night walks and dumb jokes, about the times when everything was simpler.

and then—

then she’s looking at you like that.

like she used to.

like she never stopped.

and suddenly, you’re too close.

her fingers brush yours, lingering. your breath catches.

the space between you shrinks, and before you can think, before you can remind yourself why this is a bad idea—

she kisses you.

and for a second, you let her.

for a second, you forget about everything else.

but then—

reality crashes back.

she still has a boyfriend.

you pull away.

“i can’t do this.” your voice is barely above a whisper, strained.

she blinks, like she just realized what happened. “i—”

you shake your head, stepping back. “i have to go.”

you don’t wait for her to respond.

you just leave.

that night, you lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, guilt gnawing at your chest.

not because of jimin.

but because of minjeong.

as spring break ends and you return to campus, you find yourself spending more time with minjeong.

she invites you to her favorite places. she shows you all her secret spots, her favorite coffee shop, and the best bookstore downtown.

it's nice.

easy.

fun.

the tension is gone.

and it stays gone.

until the day she kisses you.

it's not planned.

in fact, it's the last thing you expect.

the two of you are in your dorm, finishing up a project, and the mood is light. she's sitting next to you, close enough that her shoulder brushes yours as she reaches over to show you something on the laptop screen.

her breath fans across your neck, and without thinking, you turn to look at her.

and that's when it happens.

she freezes, her eyes widening.

a beat of silence.

you hold her gaze, daring her to make a move.

she does.

it's a soft kiss, hesitant. her lips barely graze yours, and for a moment, you think that's it.

but then she's kissing you again, and this time it's different.

this time it's deeper.

and before you can stop yourself, you're kissing her back.

her fingers slide into your hair, tugging lightly, and you lose track of everything else.

you and minjeong spend more time together.

of course, the two of you were always close, but now there's a new element. a new layer to the dynamic that wasn't there before.

you still hang out with the rest of the group, still laugh and talk and joke around, but when it's just the two of you…

there's something else.

something different.

something electric.

you fall into a routine.

you wake up, get ready for class, and meet her in the dining hall for breakfast. you text throughout the day, sharing stupid memes or random thoughts. sometimes, you sit next to her in class, stealing glances and hiding smiles. after, you grab lunch and walk around campus, talking about anything and everything. then, after dinner, you go to your dorm and watch a movie or play video games until you can't keep your eyes open anymore.

and at night, when it's dark, and the world is quiet, and it feels like nothing else matters—

you kiss her.

sometimes it's soft, just a gentle press of lips.

other times, it's heated, fueled by want and need and something deeper.

you never talk about it.

you don't have to.

it just works.

but then, one night, after a late-night make-out session, you're lying there, breathing heavily, and your phone rings—

jimin.

you hesitate.

should you answer?

no, of course not.

but part of you wants to. part of you misses her, even after everything. and the rational part of you knows that if you don't answer, it'll just be harder later. so, with a sigh, you sit up, accepting the call.

"hey."

"hi." her voice is soft, tentative. "how are you?"

"fine. busy." you shift, running a hand through your hair. "what's up?"

she's silent for a moment.

and then, carefully—

"i know it's been a while since we last spoke."

you swallow, the memory of her lips on yours, her hands in your hair, her skin pressed against yours—it comes rushing back. "yeah."

"and i just wanted to say i'm sorry."

you exhale. "for what?"

"for being an asshole."

a soft chuckle escapes your lips.

"and i'm sorry for kissing you," she continues. "i know it was selfish."

you pause.

it's not what you were expecting.

"it's okay," you finally say.

"really?"

"yeah. it's…it's fine. it's in the past."

there's a long pause.

"are we okay?" she asks.

your throat tightens.

is it too soon?

maybe.

but maybe not.

"yeah," you say. "we're okay."

"promise?"

you nod, even though she can't see it. "promise."

and that's the thing about promises.

you can't break them.

especially when you're the one who made them.

"so…before you left. i actually wanted to tell you something."

you adjust the phone closer to your ear, curiosity getting the better of you. "yeah?"

"i'm coming to your university."

what?

"what?"

"i put in my application a while ago, and i just got in."

you don't know how to feel. on one hand, this is what you would've wanted. wanted. but now…

you don't know what it means.

for you.

for minjeong.

for the two of you.

your heart stops. "i—wow. that's great."

"i know it's sudden, but i didn't want to tell you until i knew for sure." she pauses, taking a breath. "i missed you, you know?"

you don't know how to respond.

"anyway, i should go." there's a smile in her voice. "but i'll see you soon."

"right."

the call ends.

you stare at the phone.

what just happened?

minjeong finds you in the dining hall.

you're sitting at your usual table, picking at your food, your mind still racing.

she slides into the seat next to you, nudging your shoulder with hers. "hey. you okay?"

"fine."

"you sure? you seem a little…off."

"it's nothing."

"mm-hmm." she takes a bite of her food, watching you carefully. "if you say so."

you try to shake it off.

you try to forget about it.

but the whole time, you're wondering.

when will she get here?

will it be awkward?

will she act like nothing happened?

will she expect things to go back to how they were before?

will she expect you to wait for her?

minjeong distracts you.

she knows something's up, but she doesn't ask. instead, she shows up with snacks, forces you to play video games with her, and distracts you with kisses. and it works.

and then—just when things feel solid again, just when you think this might actually be something—

jimin shows up.

you don’t see her at first.

you’re too caught up in minjeong.

it’s late, and you’re outside, sitting on the campus benches, laughing about something dumb. the kind of laugh that makes your stomach hurt, the kind of laugh that you only do around people you really like. and you are—you like minjeong. a lot.

minjeong wipes at her eyes, still smiling. “i can’t believe you actually—”

she stops.

her expression shifts.

you turn.

and there, standing a few feet away—

jimin.

your heart stops.

minjeong stiffens next to you, her smile fading.

the air between you is thick with tension.

no one says anything.

you don't know how long you sit there, staring at her, your mind racing. you don't know what to say. how to explain. how to fix this.

you feel like the world has turned upside down, like the ground is shifting under your feet. you look at her, and all you can think about is that night. her hands in your hair. her lips on yours. the way she felt, pressed against you, soft and warm and—

minjeong breaks the silence.

and that's when you notice.

jimin's and minjeong’s eyes are locked. they're not worried about you. they don't care that you're there or that you're watching. they don't even acknowledge you. they just stare at each other.

you frown. "do you two know each other?"

neither of them answers.

you glance between them, your stomach twisting. "what's going on?"

minjeong shakes her head, tearing her gaze away.

"y/n…this is my…"

the words die on her lips.

your heart stops. "your what?"

"my girlfriend."

for a moment, you swear time stops.

you look at her, waiting for the punchline, for some sort of sign that this is a joke. but she doesn't smile, doesn't laugh, doesn't even blink.

like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

and then, slowly, it dawns on you.

she never had a boyfriend.

she lied.

because this whole time—

it was her.

jimin.

[hugheshischier4313]

YOU MISS HIM DON'T YOU | Q. HUGHES

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Quinn Hughes x fem!reader 

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | Emotional cheating (not on Quinn),  angst, fluff, oblivious!reader and Quinn, soft!Quinn, neighbors-to-lovers, reader x OC (Andrew, reader's boyfriend), alcohol, flirting. 

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | Months into your friendship with Quinn the two of you finally admit to what's been there all along. 

 🎧 Playlist | 📷 Pinterest Board

Based on a scene in Season 3 of Desperate Housewives (No spoilers in the writing. Bolded words are quoted from the show): “Don't tell me nothing happened. We’ve been fighting over this all week. You miss him, don't you?”

𝗪/𝗖 | 6.8K

𝗔/𝗡 | hi lovelies, thank you for being patient with me for the full fic of this idea. The lines indicate time jumps, they jump back and forth to different scenarios of reader and Quinn through the time they have spent together. I absolutely love these two and this idea and I couldn't find a perfect ending. I rewrote multiple endings and ultimately decided to just make a part two when I finally figure it out. Hope you enjoy, love ya!

It had been a wonderful night, the wine glass in your hand still full, the bottle sitting on the coffee table. The random episode of Bob's Burgers in the background forgotten, adding nothing more than a soft glow to the room. As you sat there listening to Quinn talk about his summer back in Michigan, you found yourself examining him. The way his eyes roam the room as he speaks, the smiles before he lets out a laugh and the way his hands run through his hair occasionally.

"You should have visited, even for just a weekend. You would have thought this was way more entertaining if you were there." Quinn teased as he finished his story. You pushed down the feeling of guilt as you smiled back at him, poking a finger into his shoulder. "I wouldn't have let you live it down if I had been there. So it's probably for the best," You teased back, but the truth was you had wanted to visit Quinn over the off-season, but when the time came, life had another plan.

_________________________________

"You should come down for the week. The sunrise and sunset alone would make the trip worth it. Imagine spending your week off by the lake, a beautiful sky for you to take pictures of. I can send you a ticket, just say the word." As the smile crept onto your face, so did the slightest tinge of pink. You had been putting away groceries when your AirPods had read the message out loud. Quinn had a habit of making fun of your love for the sky. Always calling you out, shrieking, 'The sky is so pretty' like you had repeatedly done (in a terrible attempt to match your voice). You swear you could hear it through the text despite him being over 2,000 miles apart. 

When Andrew's call came through, you found your phone and typed the text about sending it. "Y/N! I got it, I got the promotion!" His voice came booming out, and the excitement was evident in his voice. "Congratulations, Andrew!" you reciprocated his excitement. "And what better time than before you have a week off. I was thinking of going away for the week, maybe Banff? I'll rent us the cabin we had when we went last time." He kept ranting, too excited to keep anything in, but his voice was drowned out by the thought of Quinn. 

"I have to go, but I'll send you the flight information later tonight. I can't wait to see you." Andrews's voice didn't falter, almost like he was on autopilot, just rambling what he knew to say. They exchanged their quick goodbyes before he hung up. 

As if to taunt you, the next sound into your ear was' NEW MESSAGE FROM QUINN 'Or even just for the weekend if you have other plans for your week off.' As you looked back down at the phone and saw the unset message,  'A whole week of sunset pictures? Count me in Q'; the thought of deleting it weighed heavily on you. 

The truth was you had truly missed Quinn this summer. You had moved to Vancouver for grad school in the fall, and as luck would have it, Quinn lived in the apartment next to you. In the past 10 months, you had known each other; the only time you hadn't seen each other was when he had away games. And even then, when he returned, he made it up to you by devoting time to be with you. He bought you a postcard from all the cities he played in, and you had them displayed on your fridge. He signed all of them after the few glasses of wine you shared after one of his longer roadies.

You had (in your tipsy state) jokingly told him to sign one so you could sell them if he ever decided to be a jerk to you. And as he did, you knew you could never sell them; they meant too much to you. He had made a joke about writing nonsense on them to lower the value if you tried. Over the off-season, you found yourself religiously turning them over to look at his little notes, his penmanship holding inside jokes that you held dear to your heart.

As you stood there staring at the postcards on your fridge, thinking of the brunette, you couldn't help but feel the guilt in your chest. The nagging thought that your friendship with Quinn may not be as platonic as the two of you acted.

Why were you standing there thinking of another man when you were just on the phone with your boyfriend? You hadn't and would never cheat on Andrew, but the world seemed to disappear when you were with Quinn. Time slipped by faster, and you longed to sit on a couch with him again.

And at that moment, it had become apparent that you no longer had a choice; you had to choose between the two men, Andrew or Quinn? But then again, it wasn't really a choice between the men; it was a choice between right and wrong.

'Sorry Quinn, I can't this week. Take lots of pictures for me. Can't wait to see them when you're back.' Send. It was vague, and you knew he could send them to you whenever, but you also knew that, at least for this week, he couldn't be your primary focus. You needed to focus on your partner and his accomplishments.

_________________________________

As you had sat in a surprisingly unpopulated section of the airport for a Friday night, you haphazardly skipped through Instagram stories until you were faced with Quinn's private story of him on the boat with his friends. You had no reason, or right, to be this upset, but as you looked at the sunset on the picture's horizon, you couldn't stop yourself from hitting the call button. 

The phone barely rang once before you heard his voice, and you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. "Hey, I was j-" His voice was laced with exhaustion as if whatever physical activity he was doing was still fresh. And you found yourself more clam than you had been in days. Oh, how you had missed his voice.

"Are you upset with me?" The words were rushed and tumbled out before you could comprehend the repercussions. You knew that now was not the time to be having this discussion. You were sitting in the corner seats at the airport, waiting for your plane to begin boarding. But it had been two days since that last message you sent, and you had heard nothing from Quinn.

You had been a little hurt when you spent all of Thursday waiting for a response from the brunette. He had never taken more than a few hours to respond to you, which is why you had given him the benefit of the doubt that Wednesday night after you sent the last message. But now that you had spent the entirety of your workday contemplating writing a new message, you were upset, and the Insta story had only added fuel to the fire.  

"No, of course not. Why?" His voice was genuine and calm, a nice contrast to the loud background on both sides of the phone. You figured he was still on the boat with his friends. "Oh, I just figured you were upset since I haven't heard from you." You felt stupid for calling and continuing to talk despite it being obvious he wasn't alone. "But I'll let you go; sorry for calling." you hit the red button before you had time to overthink. Your voice had become weak, and you hated that you were taking time away from him and the time he had to spend with his friends and family.

You had the overwhelming feeling to cry, but you didn't know if it was because of guilt for Andrew or Quinn or because any doubts you had that Quinn was mad at you had disappeared. NEW MESSAGE FROM QUINN: 'Give me 10 minutes, I'll call you back'. The message held an inevitable dominance over it; there was no question that it was a conversation that had to happen, and it had to happen now. 

_________________________________

Quinn had known about your boyfriend from the very beginning. He had seen you together, bringing boxes to the apartment beside his, and noticed you immediately. He wished he could say it had all been innocent, but the first thing he saw was how your legs looked in the tennis skirt you had been wearing. You bent down to pick up a fallen pillow as he exited his car in the parking garage. His eyes lingered on you, and he forced himself to turn away before you noticed. He swore he would offer to help you before he met eyes with Andrew as he stepped out of the parking garage elevator.

"I didn't mean to; it just happened. You were bent over, in a skirt, right outside my car; it was hard to look away when I didn't expect you to be there." Quinn had a slight pink tone to his features right now, and you were smiling, trying to suppress a laugh. You stood in the kitchen, pouring the margaritas into your cups.

"You mean the skirt I'm wearing right now? Is that why you mentioned it? Quinn, you could have kept that secret forever. I mean, you couldn't waterboard that information out of me." You were always more giggly when drinking, which was contagious to Quinn. "But since you didn't, I'm gonna use this against you for the foreseeable future."  The laugh left you when you got back to Quinn's couch. "I'll try not to make any sudden movements that may catch you off guard," you teased as you stood before him and handed him his drink.

"It's not funny; I've felt bad about this for months." he tried to be serious, but the smile never left his face. As you nodded with a smirk on your lip, you turned from him after he grabbed the glass, "Y/N, I'm serious." He wasn't; he could never stay upset with you, even in a joking manner. 

"I guess I'll just go back to my apartment then; I don't want to bring back any of your past shame." your body once again turned towards him as you leaned down over to hug him, "Bye, Hughes, I'll make sure to only wear this when you're out of town." He let out a sarcastic 'ha.' "You don't have to leave; I can control myself. I promise." he rolled his eyes and slowly got up to stop you.

"I don't know; I think the only logical answer is to wear your Drew sweats." You had pivoted and ran to his room before he could reply. You had bugged him countless times to try them on over the past months; you had just wanted to see if they were worth the hype because the black sweats had been sold out forever (and maybe, subconsciously, because of your past love for Justin Bieber). And every time he said no, you took this as your opportunity to try them and bug him simultaneously.

Being in Quinn's room was familiar to you. You had spent most days at one of the two apartments, and sometimes that meant laying in his bed watching TV after he had just returned from a string of away games or after a challenging game or practice. You had worn his clothes before, too; it was always in a platonic way, the first time you had locked yourself out after being out on a run when it started raining. You lost your key on the run, and the concierge was gone for the night. You had also spent the night; he let you sleep in his bed and took the couch. 

As you ran into the room, you closed the door behind you and walked into the closet, closing that door, too. You had found the sweats and slowly walked out of the closet. There was no sight of Quinn, and the bedroom door was still closed. You walked towards the door, sweats in your hand, as you called out to him, "Q? Are you -" But you were cut off as he tackled you onto the bed next to you.

The two of you lay on the bed laughing before turning to face each other. The laughter died down, and you were smiling and looking at each other. The two of you lay there for a while, not saying anything until you broke the silence, "Your eyes are a different color every time I see you, but today I can see every shade in them." You don't know why you needed to share your observation with him, but it felt right. "You cut your hair." He reached out to tuck a strand behind your ear and play with the end of another. His voice had been so him, soft yet dominant. It was true; you had gotten a slight trim the day before and a few longer layers at the bottom of your hair, a small and simple detail that could have been missed. In fact, he was the only person to notice; none of your classmates or even Andrew, although over Facetime, had noticed. 

The room felt heavy as you looked from his hand in your hair to his eyes again, stopping to look at his lips for a second. And when you reached his gaze, it was unreadable. "I -" A phone began to ring as Quinn was about to speak. You could see a shift in his demeanour as you continued to look at him. He got up to find the cause of the sound. "It's your phone." He walked it over to you before heading out to the living room again. The phone illuminated ANDREW CALLING.

You looked towards the empty doorway as you brought the phone up to your ear. "Hey you," your playful voice sounded forced, and the smile on your lips was even more so. "Hey, I have a surprise for you. The notification said it was in the lobby." This shocked you, not only because it was a surprise but because Andrew was never one for small gestures. It was always something big like him ordering 4 dozen roses to your desk after your fourth date. But he had never just sent you or given you something randomly.

Andrew could be a sweet guy; you worked together before he asked you to have dinner with him. You knew you were moving and had no intention of starting anything serious before moving to Vancouver, but he had been so persistent, and it felt nice to have a distraction with all the craziness of moving. But living in different provinces has brought no comfort to either of you. It felt like pen pals most of the time. You would call him a few times a week and talk for an hour before he had to go. There had been a few times where you could have sworn you heard someone else there, but the times you mentioned it, it felt like the fight had been more trouble than the issue itself.

And maybe subconsciously, you felt like a hypocrite. Your relationship with Quinn was platonic, but the number of times you were confused as a couple in public could be seen another way. In fact, you hated to admit it, but it felt like you communicated more with Quinn when he was away than with your boyfriend. 

"There's something for me in the lobby of my apartment complex? Andrew, what did you do? It's 7pm?" As you started talking, Quinn walked into view, bringing your drinks and extending to you. "It's a surprise; you should go get it now; I'm assuming it's just on the concierge desk based on the picture." You stared up at Quinn as you listened to Andrew, "Okay, I'll be down in a minute, and I'll call you back once I have it." The phone call was quickly over. 

"What did you order?" Quinn asked with a smile, used to all the packages you've received. A few that had been too heavy for you to carry on your own that Quinn had taken himself. Even when they hadn't been too heavy, he would carry them for you if he was there. "I'm not sure, Andrew sent it to me." You could have sworn there was a look on his face that was gone as quickly as it appeared. "You want me to go with you in case you need help?" there was no hesitation in your quick reply of 'yes.'

As the two of you walked down the hall, you were overly aware of the distance between you. It was no different than it had been in the past, but there was a particular charge. The words shared and unshared in the bedroom hung heavy. "So I never got to even put the sweats on," you joked while waiting in front of the elevator. "You can borrow them when we get back up if you want," his answer made your breath hitch. He had never let you try them on, much less borrow them.

He looked at you, letting you walk into the elevator first. The ride down was quick and quiet, but how you looked at each other made everything race faster. Your heartbeat quickened as you saw his slight deviation towards your lips before making their way back up. "Quinn," your voice came out as a low plea; whether it was to continue or to stop was uncertain. He stepped closer to you as the two of you stood in silence for a brief moment before the doors opened. As you stepped out, your heart felt heavy.

As you made your way towards the front desk, you saw the back of a man at the desk, but when you heard the voice,  it made you freeze. Andrew he was in your lobby waiting for you, Quinn failed to notice your pause and ran into you. However, before you could tip forward, Quinn had steadied you with a hand on your arm and waist. Andrew called out when he turned around. 

"Andrew! What are you doing here?" You didn't miss the look he gave the sight of the two of you or how his gaze only lingered on Quinn's hand on your waist as he walked closer. You unhooked yourself from Quinn to hug Andrew. The hug was stiff; he held himself higher, and his head hadn't moved from the position it had been in before. You figured he was still looking at Quinn. 

"I wanted to surprise you; we settled a case earlier than expected, so I took a few days off." You had pulled yourself to his side, a view of both him and Quinn. They kept looking towards each other, completely ignoring you. "Well, Andrew, this is my friend I always tell you about, Quinn. He introduced himself the day I moved in, remember? He lives next door to me." Andrew smiled down at you as you continued. "Quinn, you remember Andrew." Quinn looked from you to Andrew before extending his hand. "Good to see you again, man." Andrew hesitated before shaking his hand. 

There was a quick silence before Quinn grabbed his phone from his pocket and looked at the screen, excusing himself, "I have to make a phone call; I'll see you around," but before he could walk off, you gave him a side hug goodbye. You had done it a thousand times before, and feeling like you couldn't because Andrew was there didn't feel like a good sign, so you did it anyway. "I'll text you," you quietly said as you let go.

The next few days had been uneventful, showing Andrew around Vancouver. The hallway had felt unusually empty each time you passed, hoping to run into Quinn. A string of away games was starting that Monday, and when you came back from dropping off Andrew at the airport on Sunday night, you noticed the bag sitting in front of your apartment door. 

The black sweats were inside with a note, 'I'll pick them up when I'm back. Enjoy :). ~ Q" He never asked for them back

_________________________________

"Hey," his voice was clear despite the pixilated quality of his Facetime call. He was wearing a white T-shirt, his hair was wet, and he had a look on his face you had never seen. "Hey Q," your pulse felt overwhelming as if anyone who looked at you could see it throbbing against your neck. "Are you having a good time back home?" It was a buffer; you didn't know what Quinn wanted to say, and judging by the look on his face, you weren't sure you wanted to.

"Andrew called me." His voice was blunt, direct to the point, despite the few seconds he stared at you, hesitating to continue. "He asked if I was sleeping with you." His eyes held yours while the rest of his face had no expression. "What?" The nervous laughter that filled the air around you was nothing more than a way to suppress the hurt and anger of this new confession.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry Quinn. I don't know why he's been so paranoid lately. It seems like he misinterprets everything I mention to him as something else." For the last two months, you had known that Andrew suspected your friendship with Quinn was something more. He had brought it up the last time he was in Vancouver and again over the phone a few weeks ago (although it had been in retaliation to the question you had asked him about the girl with him in a video his friend had posted on their story). 

"Did he misinterpret it, or did he just see what is obvious that you and I can't admit?" The question was loaded with truths that weren't meant to come out. The look that the two of you shared through the screen had only confirmed it. In a split second, months of ignorance had led to a confession when the two of you were thousands of miles apart.

His breathing was heavy; you could hear it through the phone; he had a look on his face that closely resembled his look when his team lost in the Playoffs. It was the look you saw in the mirror this morning when you had not heard from him. It was the split-second look he had in the lobby the day Andrew surprised you.

Everything playing in your head; all the nights he would knock at your apartment after a game with a box of food, the way you would pack him an 'after-game snack' consisting of oranges, a granola bar and a fruit snack (which he teased you about until you mentioned it was like they did in little leagues), the way your breath hitches every time he gets shoved or falls. 

All the times, the two of you had gone for a drive when life felt too heavy, and you shared secrets you had never told anyone before. The way he took off your makeup when you had gone out one night or how he knows your coffee order for every cafe you go to. Quinn and you had been in the in-between since you first hung out. 

"I mean, how long are we going to pretend like nothing is happening?" His voice was calm and demanding, with a hint of subdued anger or annoyance you hadn't picked up. "Quinn, I -" You were at a loss for words; nothing could genuinely capture how Quinn had made you feel. 

You knew you were safe with Quinn around, not only in a physical sense but emotionally. The way he made you feel heard and seen. The two of you were floating in two separate worlds, but the weight that engulfed you was the same. You understood the complication of pressure and leadership; you understood needing to be the most prominent presence in the room, even if you weren't the loudest. You understood the pressure of wanting, no needing, to be the best for everyone else even if it tore you apart. 

It was all those things and more that drove you together, the ability to soothe the ache the buildup of burden had left sacred on the two of you. When you felt a crushing weight on you, the only thing that could alleviate it was being around the man who had quickly become your best friend. Immediately, he knew whether you needed to just sit and cry while he comforted you or go for a drive so you could yell out lyrics or if you needed him to just talk about mundane things.

And you do the same; you knew by the way he left the ice, by the way, he knocked on the door, by the way, he walked down the hallway toward your apartments. You knew when to go over to him so he could catch the recaps, and you knew when to invite him to yours to force him to ignore the criticism. You knew that even after a winning streak or after a goal, he needed comfort, understanding the overwhelming feeling of the slightest reprieve until the next game.

And the honest truth was that you had pushed back any romantic feelings because you knew without a doubt he was your person. You had never been one for friendship with men, and when your friends asked about what you could have in common with a professional hockey player, you never knew what to tell them. Because from every book, movie, series and scenario you knew, as cliche as it was, the only quote that could describe what the two of you shared was, 'Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.' 

"Y/N, please." His voice was barely above a whisper, a plea to say anything. "It doesn't have to change anything. I just need to know; I didn't mean to hurt you; I tried to give you space. I've tried to respect your relationship." He had been ignoring you to avoid hurting your relationship, and in the process, the two of you were the only ones who were hurt. "Quinn." There was only one way you could describe it: "You consume me." Despite the tears that fell, you stared at him through the phone, wishing he was there with you, wishing your plane was going to Michigan. 

"Now boarding flight-" The announcement couldn't have come at a worse time; there was so much to say, and an airport right before boarding was not ideal. "That's my flight." You wiped your tears as you stared at the man on the screen. "Y/N, I'm sorry for bringing this up now; it's not my best moment." he was trying to cheer you up; he wanted you to know that everything would be okay. "Quinn, I don't know what to do," your voice was a quiet plea to understand what was to come.

"Given everything that was said and that we're in two different countries right now, I think we should take some time to digest. I know you're spending time with him, and I don't want you to feel overwhelmed. I think we should take the next week or two." your heart was breaking, but your mind knew that was the best option. And for the first time since the beginning of the conversation, you thought of Andrew, and the slight tinge of annoyance arose again. 

Quinn must have noticed because he was quick to interject his following comment with the most sincere look, "But before you go, I just need you to know that you consume me too." He had his signature half smile as he continued, "You are the most amazing woman I have ever met. I think about you constantly. I think about you when I look at the sky, when I'm practicing with my brothers, when I go out with friends and when I lie in bed. I watch for you in the crowd during warm-ups. You've become one of my favourite people so quickly, and I'm so glad of all the apartments in the city, or even just in the building; you moved into the one next to mine." 

You smiled as the tears fell; if there had ever been any doubt, you now knew for sure that Quinn was your person. "I'll be forever grateful that the universe brought me to you too." And with a quick goodbye and promise to reach out in two weeks, you were in your seat on the plane. 

Your mind racing with thoughts of Quinn and the revelations that had come to light and then again to Andrew. You didn't know why, but your annoyance was morphing into slight anger, the idea that he had called Quinn and accused him of sleeping with you. What annoyed you more was that he had done that and hadn't mentioned it to you. He hadn't mentioned the idea of your friendship with Quinn being something more since that one phone call a little over a month ago. 

You sat with that feeling for the rest of the flight. 

_________________________________

"Okay, fine, you are mad at me! But name one thing that I have done to deserve it!" Andrew was standing on the opposite side of the room. His breathing was heavy as he ran a hand through his hair. "You called Quinn." your voice was laced with a hint of sadness and betrayal. The statement was simple and direct but held a meaning that both of you knew would change everything. 

The argument had started with something so small: the two of you walking on eggshells the past few days and your passive-aggressive comments when he mentioned anything related to Vancouver. Over the past few days, you had tried to get Andrew to admit to calling Quinn; he wasn't stupid; he had connected the dots and was simply choosing to ignore it (which infuriated you even more). The days dragged on; waking up and getting ready in silence, spending the day exploring, trying to avoid long conversations at all costs, getting ready for bed with few words and getting into bed facing away from each other. 

Andrew's response had taken a second longer than it should have. His hesitation made it clear that he was surprised by the direct approach, almost as if he hadn't thought you would say anything.  "You're damn right I did, I've seen the messages, the glances, the pictures. What was I supposed to do? Pretend that nothing was going on?" His voice was slightly louder as his eyes narrowed on you. 

"Nothing was going on. He never touched me." you raised your voice, but the words weakened. Your hands were flailing around, trying to emphasize your point.  The tears behind your eyes aching to be let free. It was too much, and you knew the implications of your words. This time, however, Andrew didn't hesitate to answer; his reply, even louder than before, came out the second you were done talking. "And I wasn't gonna sit around and wait until he did."  

The two of you stood there staring at each other, chests heaving, eyes full of emotion. You sat on the counter stool beside you before looking away from Andrew and placing your head in your hands, elbows propped on the counter. You heard his footsteps getting closer, and soon, Andrew was pulling out the stool next to you. 

You glanced at him from your peripheral view; he was staring at the kitchen in front of him, a look of contemplation on his face. "Do you have feelings for him, Y/N?" you diverted your eyes back to the counter. The question caught you off guard, "Hmm?" you could feel his eyes on you again, but you couldn't gain the strength to look up. "Do you have feelings for Quinn?" Each word was emphasized by the slight pause he took between them. 

Although you couldn't meet his eyes, you mustered enough courage to look up from your hands towards the kitchen. "I would never cheat on you, you know that." you shook your head as you said it, knowing it wasn't the answer he sought. "That's not what I asked." you wanted to look at him, to tell him he was all you wanted, that there was nothing between you and Quinn, but that wasn't the truth, and all you could do was continue the slight head shake you had started. 

Andrew didn't say anything for a bit, but you could hear the sound of his movement as he repositioned himself on the stool and leaned closer to you. "Did you fall for him?" His voice was softer and more quiet, slightly above a whisper. You tried to speak, but the tears beat you. As the tears left your eyes, you looked towards Andrew. His eyes were glued on the fridge, his expression hurt, and his eyes held a slight gloss. "Oh god," he was avoiding eye contact with you now. 

You stared at him a moment longer, trying to calm down, "Nothing happened." your voice was shakier than it had been all night, and the tone held no conviction. He turned his head slightly, the two of you locking eyes. "Don't tell me nothing happened. We've been fighting over this all week." He turned away before he even finished his sentence. Your tears continued, "You miss him, don't you?" The look on his face had hardened, but his voice remained the same. He knew the answer; it had been evident every time he called you, and you were alone or when he would try to call, only to be met with a text saying you were on the phone but would call him back. 

You kept your eyes on him; the guilt weighed heavy on you. The implication of every choice you had made since the first interaction with Quinn ran through your mind. You couldn't put your thoughts into words or rationalize your feelings. "I'm sorry." It wasn't even a valid answer, but it was all you could think of. Your emotions were running too high, and you needed a breather. He leaned back on the stool and let out a breath, but a few tears trickled down as he did. "Damn" His voice was barely audible; if you hadn't been looking at him or if the room hadn't been so quiet, you would have missed it. 

_________________________________

It hadn't been your intention to end things with Andrew that way. Despite all the issues the two of you shared, you didn't want to hurt him. When you talked everything through the following morning you both knew the relationship had been over longer than either of you cared to admit.  It had been as civil as a breakup could be, and the guilt that had once overwhelmed you started to blur.

As you looked out the plane window and saw Vancouver, you felt the missing pieces of you start to come together. It was strange how life finds a way to bring you exactly where you need to be. Accepting your graduate program at The University of British Columbia led you to a weekend of exploring and apartment hunting in Vancouver. You had found your apartment complex by accident; you had been lost looking for another building when your eyes landed on it. The large winders on every floor practically shoved you into the lobby, and when you applied, only one unit was available for your expected move-in date. It had been a long shot, and somehow you ended up winning. 

You could recall the sound of a car pulling into the attached parking garage as you pulled a box out of your trunk, unintentionally knocking down a pillow in all the commotion. As you bent down to pick it up, you could hear the car door open and close before hearing a few footsteps. They stopped as you located your missing pillow; as you stood back up, you turned to find the stranger but found yourself searching for Andrew after hearing his voice. As you stood there waiting for him to grab another box, you looked towards the elevator and saw the stranger standing there. You couldn't see his face; he was just a blur of brunette hair and a gray outfit as the doors closed, and although you couldn't make out all his facial features, you could have sworn you saw him give you a smile before the doors closed completely. And before you even had a chance, Quinn captured your attention. And unbeknownst to you then, you had made a lasting impression on him, too. 

As you stared at the city, music in your ears, in the back of the Uber home, you could see every moment you and Quin shared. Every mundane moment, from knocking on his door in the morning with breakfast bagels and coffee to drunk conversations in the back of a car after a night out celebrating to sitting in either of your living rooms watching a movie with your commentary. It was like watching a montage scene, and it felt freeing because, for the first time, there was the possibility for something more. The feeling of longing had been hidden underneath your guilt, coming hand in hand, and now both were gone, instead replaced with something positive. 

"Miss, you have a package." The voice of your building's concierge brings you back to reality. It was a relatively wide rectangular box; you hadn't ordered anything that would come in a box of that size, which fueled your curiosity even more. "Thank you." You smiled and offered a kind goodbye before walking to the elevator. 

Without hesitation, another image of Quinn flew into your mind as the elevator doors closed. The first time you spoke was in the elevator up to your floor. He smiled, encouraged you to enter the elevator first, and asked if you needed help with your box despite carrying his bag. However,  after declining his offer, he made no other effort to continue the conversation. The two of you casually glanced at each other as the doors closed, waiting for the movement to begin, but when it didn't, you looked over to the right side of the door and laughed slightly. "What floor do you need?" he asked with a slight chuckle. "Sixteenth, please." You returned his chuckle and smiled. You watched as he clicked the sixteenth button but no other. "Are you on the same floor?" You could hear excitement in your voice, but you pushed it down. "Yeah, guess that means we're neighbour neighbours" Once again, that damn smile felt contagious; he felt contagious. 

When you reached your floor, you found yourself walking faster than usual to reach your door. It had only been a week; somehow, everything was completely different yet utterly the same. You walked into the apartment and set the package down on the counter, needing to know what was inside. Opening the lid, you are met with the most beautiful arrangement of your favourite flowers. There were different shades of your favourite colour, layering beautifully on each other, but what caught your eyes was the distinct blue rose in the middle, an envelope sitting directly on top. 

The envelope had your name written on it with the handwriting you had come to memorize. Inside was a postcard from Michigan, "Y/N, I can't get you out of my head. Only two more weeks left before I'm back in Van, and I can't wait to see you again. I found this while I was out, and it reminded me of you.   -Q" You held the card close to you for a second; it had the faintest mix of florals and Quinn's cologne. You looked at the fridge before deciding to keep the note in your room. It felt intimate, something you wanted to keep between you. Something caught your eye when you took the flowers out of the box and into a vase. Inside the envelope was a small plastic bag; you reached for it and found a necklace. 

A delicate chain with a small pendant with a sun and a moon, and when you turned it over, your breathing hitched; there was a small 43 engraved. When you read the note, you assumed the postcard was what he had seen, but it was the necklace. He had seen a necklace encompassing the sun and moon, something you were passionate about, and he had added something personal. The engraving must have been something he did; the probability that it had been done in manufacturing was slim to none, making it all the more special. You put it on and never wanted to take it off. 

You grabbed the postcard off the counter and lifted it closer to your chest before taking a close-up picture from your lips to showcase the necklace and postcard, "I'm thinking about you too. To the longest two weeks that will ever exist. To the sun and the moon and back." And as you hit the send button, you couldn't help but think about what was yet to come.  

_________________________________

[feralforbeanix]

Manfred Von Karma did not burn Phoenix's letters to Miles.

Like, I'm not even saying this to defend Manfred's character (though the fanbase does get a little crazy with what he actually did and didn't do) I'm saying this because that's not canon. I'm not sure it was even possible in canon.

Phoenix didn't write letters to Germany. He didn't know Miles was in Germany, let alone Von Karma's address. He didn't even know who Von Karma was until Edgeworth told him about Manfred in Turnabout Goodbyes.

In the game canon, Miles just stopped showing up to school one day. All Phoenix seemed to know was that he transferred schools suddenly. He didn't know why or where to. Remember, Phoenix didn't even hear about DL-6 until Turnabout Sisters when Maya mentioned her family's involvement.

Even in the anime canon (I haven't watched the anime in a while so I might be off about this) where Phoenix and Miles get a chance to properly say goodbye, Phoenix still doesn't have a direct means of contacting him. His best way of doing so was dedicating a song through the radio using Signal Samurai codenames and hoping Miles would hear it.

Phoenix mentions trying to contact him several times when explaining their relationship to Maya, but this was after finding out Miles was this "Demon Attorney". Miles would have to be at least 20 at this point in time, living back in California with at least a few trials under his belt. With how young he reached success, it's not impossible Miles was living on his own at the time. Even if he wasn't, I doubt Manfred was going through this grown adult's mail.

No, what the game seems to be implying is that Miles ignored Phoenix. (Maya even says, "I guess he didn't want to hear from his old friends.") And I don't think this was out of hatred or anything, I think Miles just wanted to forget his past entirely because even the good memories of his childhood would be bittersweet at best.

And to be honest that makes it even more tragic to me. Why do we need Manfred to intercept their connection when Miles' trauma and guilt complex is already doing that?

I like to think Miles knew Phoenix would be asking questions if he ever responded to those initial attempts at contact. Questions he of course doesn't want to answer because they'd at best open old wounds or at worst risk his childhood friend finding out he might have committed patricide.

I also like to think he knew Phoenix of all people would stubbornly try to find the answers Miles wouldn't willingly give because he literally mentions Phoenix always being "single minded in his work" and "always seeing things through to the end". If anyone was going to press and bring those uncomfortable and painful memories out in the open for the sake of "helping him", it would be Phoenix Wright.

Why do we need Manfred to take away all that complexity and tragedy? That is such a waste!

[acid-ixx]

Now that someone mentioned Connor as a possible love interest I think he will be a good choice. He obviously feels a similar kind of anger at his own father(s) so they could connect thanks to it. And his super hearing and other abilities will make it possible for him to always know when something is wrong with reader. I see reader being in shock that someone wants to be there for them and dismissing any yandere tendencies, toxic traits in favour of keeping Connors attention. Not like they could loose it no matter what they do, Connor is to obsessed and I could see him being dependent on his darling.

a/n: since i am more familiar with the animated series (young justice) for conner kent and i feel your ask is describing his version so i'm basing it off of him! but yes you are so fr in this. i will never not go too far when it comes to rambling, i love long asks hehe.

it was temporarily stated in chapter one that you had your momentary bouts of anger and that in itself already paved its way into conner's heart because of course most would be put off with the rage that he kindles within. you two would really be some sort of match made in heaven— it's like you deeply understand the intensity of his emotion, and you both share that bond nobody could deter; it being anger towards your parent/s and the inability to be accepted or nor noticed/your feelings being invalidated most of the time.

but because of the level of power between you, you being human and him literally being a carbon copy of superman, conner would be incredibly overprotective and possessive of you. and i'm not just implying that he would give anyone within a fifty mile radius a death glare, no, you would literally be glued to his figure all the time.

that means a hand on either your shoulders, your waist, or hips. if you were the shy type, then expect him always holding your hands or wrist. but if you don't mind the weird display of pda, then you'll be lucky enough to have the rights to smother your face in his chest whenever and wherever— sometimes that would even be his go signal to tell anybody off whenever you feel the slightest bit of discomfort.

but other than the advantages of being with him (protective guard dog 24/7), you would pretty much lose every sense of independence nor privacy. which isn't losing much since you already have your mad family on your tail constantly tracking you down and probably a huge bounty on your head— but at least you have your boyfriend with you, right?

with the lack of attention you were given to as a child, one given willingly without the need to ask for is basically a heaven for you. and with his powers? babe, you don't even need to ask for him to take you away to somewhere safer because he could already hear your heartbeats thumping louder and louder.

speaking of superhearing; a way to calm your boyfriend down quickly and efficiently would be laying his head on your chest. you'd probably discover the method later on your relationship, but as much as conner loves to hear your heartbeats from any distance, he loves it all the more when the only barrier that keeps him away from your beating heart would be your skin and your ribcage.

since conner was raised with the lack of physical contact and he's the type to push people away, your physical affection towards him is something he doesn't even know he craves, not until he tastes it for himself.

you wouldn't even feel the need to tell creeps off anymore! because conner is out there intimidating every person who dares to show the slightest bit of romantic intentions towards you.

so really, is it so bad if he wants you all for himself?

you both eventually gain a codependent relationship with each other— but it's not like any of you would leave each other wanting for more, because you both are more than enough for each other.

and conner thinks it's better off if it would only be the two of you in this world.

screw your family.

[paulyenvol6]

Look What You Made Me Do

Joel x female reader (No Outbreak AU)

All Joel wants is to get you home quickly, but he wasn't prepared for the tiny skirt you had picked out this morning. Together with your teasing, he finds he has no choice, but to pull off the road and make you see what happens when you push him too far.

Contains: smut, oral (m & f receiving), fingering, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, choking, degradation, objectification, dumbification, doggy, riding, mean!Joel, brat taming, daddy kink, dom/sub dynamics, car/public sex, spanking, dirty talk, possessive & jealous behavior, crying, gagging, use of words like whore and slut, slight aftercare

Wordcount: 6,171

Masterlist

Joel couldn't believe his eyes.

"Jesus, honey."

He dropped his head, slightly shaking it while taking a deep breath and praying that he wouldn't lose it.

"What?" you asked sweetly, your smile almost detectable in your tinkling voice. Joel's grip around the steering wheel tightened as he lifted his head with a sigh and took in your whole appearance. The scandalously short tennis skirt, the white top that did a poor job of hiding your perky nipples and the pink bow in your hair.

"You were out lookin' like that?" Joel furrowed his brow and shamlessly ran his gaze down your barely covered body.

"Yeah. Anything wrong with it? Is my hair ruined? Is the bow still in there?"

Your voice was dripping with acted innocence which drove Joel insane. He knew that you were aware of what you were doing, the effects of your appearance on men clearly visible to everyone who had two functioning eyes.

"Fuckin' christ, baby…," Joel growled, but started the car.

He was furious and wanted to reclaim what was his, but if he was being honest with himself, he wanted to do so by fucking your brains out. What was he to do with you sitting beside him like that? A little thumb at your lips, your legs crossed and the hem of your skirt fluttering in the wind, gradually revealing more of the soft skin of your thighs. And then there were your breasts that were showing so well underneath your tight top, putting on display curves that were only meant for his eyes.

"You don't like my outfit?" you whispered after a while and Joel silently cursed as he thought about how many more miles they had to go before he could toss you onto the bed and fuck you until all you could think about was his cock instead of coming up with new outfits you could go out with and turn heads with.

"I like it. I like it so much that I don't want anyone else to see you in it," Joel said coolly and through gritted teeth. You clearly didn't think of the situation as that serious because you just grinned and playfully ran a hand down your front.

"Ohhh Joel. That's so sweet of you. You know that I like when you get all angry and possessive," you breathed, leaning toward him and pressing a kiss right next to his ear.

"You're not gonna like it when I'm fuckin' done with ya. Now sit back down."

You giggled, but obeyed his order, sinking back onto your butt, but your body still vibrating with laughter while you looked outside. And he could have sworn that your skirt was pushed even higher up your legs. His eyes reflexively darted to you every now and then, his heart pounding so loudly that he could feel and hear it in every part of his body and his back sweaty and so hot, it was almost unbearable. He had to do something and although the car was getting closer to his house with every passing second, the longer he drove, the less capable he felt of lasting the way home. And you weren't exactly making it better. 

"Maybe I wore it for you, daddy," you sulked and arched against the backrest, your breasts standing out so deliciously. So bitable. You watched his profile, observing every twitch of his brow, every flinch of his lids and every grind of his teeth with great satisfaction. Part of you wanted nothing more than for Joel to lose it, take the next drive out and fuck you right here and right now, no matter where the road would take you. And you had a feeling you were close to achieving your goal; you just had to push him a little further.

"Stop," Joel hissed through his clenched jaw, his knuckles painfully white from the amount of force with which he held on to the wheel. It was his only way to ground himself because apart from that he was completely at your mercy, his ears with no choice but to listen to each of your sweet words and his mind too weak to stop the occasional glances in your direction.

"What?" you asked all guiltlessly and unknowingly although the glint in your eyes was more than telling. Slowly, and without taking your eyes off him, you glided a hand between your legs and bit down on your bottom lip, sighing in relief as two of your fingers came in contact with your clothed pussy.

"Jesus FUCKIN' Christ, baby, I have to concentrate right now," Joel shouted, panic clouding his mind and his heart racing even faster, but perhaps the main reasons for his reactions were your mindless and irresponsible actions. He wanted to wipe away the sweat drooling on his forehead, but he feared to let go off the steering wheel and risk causing an accident because his body was so tense and felt like it was on fire. His hands clutching to it was the only thing calming him and keeping him from devouring you like a wild animal.

"But she's aching for you, daddy…," you moaned, carefully starting to roll your hips in accordance to the movements of your hands and rejoicing when Joel glared at you from the corner of his eyes.

"She needs you so bad… She's been droolin' for you all day. Just take a look under my skirt, it's so so wet, daddy. And it's all for you."

Your voice was so quiet and airy, Joel's teeth sank down on his lower lip to supress a groan. He needed you. And he needed you now. He needed you in every way known to mankind and if he didn't do anything about it soon, he was sure he would either burst in his jeans or cause an accident by being hypnotized and mesmerized by you and stopping to look at the traffic.

"Can I touch her?" you asked, no, whined and by the looks of it, pressed the palm of your hand against your clit, creating some stimulation, but not enough to properly please yourself.

"No!" Joel barked, shifting his hips slightly because his pants were uncomfortably tight around his hard dick which was only distracting him further from the traffic.

"You keep those hands to yourself now until we're home. And I swear to god, babygirl… I'm not gonna go easy on you. Walkin' around in this goddamn short skirt and tryin' to distract me all the fuckin' time. I want you to shut up now, fold your hands in your lap like a good girl and keep still until I've parked this fuckin' car."

He really hoped that his words and the dominance in his voice might have an impact on you, but he seemed to be wrong. For a moment it worked and Joel was almost about to exhale without even having noticed that he had held his breath in tension, when you spoke up again, a mischievous grin on your lips that Joel wasn't able to see.

"I could give you a hand, daddy, you know? It hurts me to see you feeling so uncomfortable. He probably just needs my hand stroking up and down and then you'll feel much better. I can see how painful it must be… Just wanna be good for you."

Joel grinded his teeth in frustration and then suddenly turned the steering wheel around, making you gasp in surprise. With newfound determination, born of a flash of inspiration, he took the next gateway and drove the car onto the highway, heading wherever it might lead.

"What are you doin', Joel?" you asked with big eyes. While you had fantasised about him taking you in the car out in the nowhere, you hadn't expected him to actually do it.

"Shut up," Joel snapped, pinching his eyes as he stared ahead of himself in concentration.

There was a crossroad and without really knowing why, he chose to turn right where the forest seemed to become denser. And it was true, a couple of miles later the two of you found yourselves on a rarely travelled country road leading in serpentines through the thick forest. The small path to your right was more than convenient and so, driven by pure and throbbing lust, Joel chose to turn the indicator to the right and drove the car into the forest. By now, you were aware that speaking was unnecessary so you settled with smirking to yourself and listenening to your own racing heartbeat.

After one or two more minutes all you could see around you were tall fir trees, through which the sun rays could just reach and create mystical patterns across the thicket. That's where Joel stopped the car. He turned the keys, sighed deeply and then reached to cup your face and pull you flush against him. His lips began to devour your mouth, forcefully pushing against you and using his hands to turn and tilt you the way he wanted you. He tasted of coffee and mint, his lips a little dry - probably from the way he had sucked and bit down on them the past minutes - but god he had never felt better.

Joel's tongue carefully – at least in contrast to the rest of his actions – brushed over your lips, demanding entrance and you were pleased to grant him access to your mouth. Everything was heated, the air in the car already too thin and stuffy, but right now neither of you could bring yourself to pull back and open a window or a door. You couldn't, even if you wanted to try.

A large calloused hand that didn't allow any doubts was firm on your cheek, holding you in place just like it was feeling the softness and heat your face radiated. His left hand was no less bold, making its way down to explore more of your body, which frankly wasn't very well covered anyway. He groped your breasts, roughly kneading the flesh and squeezing it every now and then to elicit a soft whimper from you. Soon, the piece of clothing was pulled over your head and carelessly landed to your feet where you curled your toes into the fabric and trembled as Joel twisted a stiff nipple between two fingers.

"You're so fuckin' dirty, aren't ya? Did all of this just to drive me insane…," Joel murmured against your lips, softly picking at your bottom lip. His beard stubble grazed your upper lip, thrilling you with tingles and scratches.

"Please, Joel… Need to feel you. On my pussy, please…"

"Yeah? Not so cocky now, are ya, babygirl?" he commented with a scoff and slid a hand around your waist to pull you closer although the car seats were a restriction, causing him to growl in dissatisfaction.

"Fuckin' hell…," Joel cussed and then suddenly brought a hand under your skirt and cupped your pussy without a warning. You yelped against his lips, jolting backward, but Joel's hand under your chin kept you right where he wanted you, his fingers delicately, yet warningly brushing over your skin.

"Stupid 'lil girl… You don't know what situation you just brought yourself in."

He withdrew, watching your face from a small distance as he began palming your clothed center and it was more than satisfying to finally have him touch you, but he was yet to fight off the smoldering, coiling heat around your clit.

"Joel," you murmurated, your hands grasping his face as if anything could settle his swirling mind right now, but even your pretty doe eyes didn't move anything in him.

He was controlled by his dick and his dick wanted to wreck you.

The air between you crackled as if a small fire had combusted far away, the air torrid and incandescent and so full of animalistic lust, that you felt like you were about to do things that were out of your reach. And his palm felt so… heavy and firm against your core, yet so vague and unsure in what he was doing, but of course you knew it was all a mask. Joel would have been able to make you cum within minutes, especially with you being in a state like that. He was choosing not to. He was choosing to make you suffer and you knew that you deserved it.

Reflexively, you began rolling your hips against his palm, part of you hoping that he would give you that freedom, but you should have known better. Joel's hand around your chin travelled dowards to gently squeeze your throat once, then twice before using it as leverage as he leaned in to bite the skin of your jaw.

"No. And you better not test me."

"Joel," you pressed, your eyes pinching shut and your chest heaving under the air restriction. He carefully, as if to tease you, moved his flat hand, rubbing the base of his palm against your stiff clit, but it only elicited a painful wail from you. Everything was too slow, too vague and too soft and you needed to let him know.

"Please. Please, daddy." Joel's hand suddenly snatched your throat tightly, causing you to cry out, and then nudged his nose against your temple.

"Oh yeah? I'm daddy now? You're all needy 'n' whiny 'n' need me to take care of ya so you call for your daddy? S'not how this works, sugar."

You clasped your hand around his, pulling and scratching while you gasped for air, but Joel was deliberate and unwavering as he held you firmly, pushing your boundaries and making you suffer until he loosened his grip when he saw your eyes rolling back. You whimpered, your eyes fluttering close when he pressed his palm against your core more firmly and then started to rub. It was still slow, but the movements were more powerful and with much more force so you considered it progess. Joel's right hand that had previously been around your throat wandered to the back of your head, ensnaring his fingers in your hair and gently, yet unambiguously yanking you back.

"I don't think you deserve this, babygirl… Don't think you deserve to have your pussy treated this well. Tell me. Tell me why I should go on instead of leaving you drippin' for me."

You moved your hands to his in panic, gripping his wrist while giving him your biggest deer eyes.

"N-No... I need it."

The slap came unexpected and you squealed although it hadn't been very forceful.

"Tell me why I should give it to ya. You show up 'ere dressed like a fuckin' whore that looks like she'd spread 'er legs for any creature with a dick and then you won't stop bothering me on our way back home even though I told you a hundred fuckin' times to shut your mouth. You haven't been good. You've behaved like a ungrateful bitch."

Tears pooled in your eyes, the realisation of your mistakes clear to you all of a sudden.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, daddy. I – I… I only wanna be good for you. And I thought you'd like my outfit. Thought you liked seeing my l-legs."

Your voice broke at the last syllable, his palm flush against your throbbing clit provoking you to let out a low whine which was rumbling in your chest. His calloused skin felt so good against your bundle of nerves, you wanted to scream, but at the same time you wanted to beg him to give you more.

When he withdrew, you jerked forward, controlled by a desperate need to cage his hand between your legs, but of course you didn't stand a chance. Joel just laughed at your attempts and then reached behind your head to form a makeshift ponytail while you were still regretting the loss of contact. He tilted your head, forcing you to look in his eyes and then jutted his jaw forward, his tongue darting out to lick over his lower lip.

"Show me what you got. You say you're sorry so you're gonna prove it. Show daddy how sorry you are and if you're good I'll think about fucking this pussy."

The clinging of his belt made you drop your gaze to where he singlehandedly unbuckled it along with his jeans. He had you tight in his grip while shoving down his jeans and then taking his dick out of his boxers.

"See that, babygirl? He's aching for ya. And you're gonna make it better 'cause you're the goddamn reason for this mess. Gonna lick it all up and treat him like you wanna tell him how much you regret your mistake. Have I made myself clear?"

Joel tugged at your ponytail, shaking you slightly to remind you to answer him and then grinded his teeth at your round eyes that seemed to be in awe of his leaking member.

"Yes, daddy," you whispered, but were looking down again.

"Go on then. C'mon, ain't got all day."

You adjusted your position in the passenger seat, moving your legs up so that you could kneel on the seat cushion. Then, you lowered your head to his center, all while Joel guided you with his hand. He hummed to himself watching your hand reach for his base and then exhaled sharply when your tongue that was peeping out of your mouth came in contact with his tip.

"Jesus, don't get all shy on me now," Joel barked, his left hand that wasn't in your hair reaching over your body to deliver a smack to your butt. "You know you want it. You know you wanna make a mess all over it 'cause you know it's gonna please daddy."

A wet sound gushed from where his tip was nudged against your lips and then you parted your lips at once, letting him glide down your throat in one go, the sensation so overwhelming that he painfully pulled at the roots of your hair.

"Shit, yeah… That's it."

Joel kept you in this position for a while, his hand leaving you no space to pull back despite your squirming and his dick tapping against the hilt of your throat. Only when you gagged did he let go and relaxed his hand so you could draw back to catch your breath. You inhaled greedily, darting up to him under your lashes and whimpering when you felt pressure on your scalp again.

"You go right back to work, babygirl… Ain't gonna let ya go until I'm satisfied. You wanted this, teasin' me all the way and now you're gonna take it. I'm gonna give ya what you wanted, you just wait…"

He moaned, his dick embraced by your tight walls again and started to make you bob your head around his length. He didn't go as deep as previously, but the brutal pace he set was enough to make you drool and gag, your eyes squeezed shut to prevent yourself from tearing up. You couldn't give him that satisfaction. Not after the way you had behaved earlier. Joel obviously knew how easily he was able to turn you into a needy puppet just by saying a few rough phrases to you or by making you choke on his dick for a little while, but crying and weeping around him now after such little time would definitely be one too much.

With the little freedom you had – your hand at his base pumping him and occasionally playing with his balls – you brought him further stimulation, but Joel took from your mouth what he wanted. Your tongue barely had time to trail up and down his shaft as he fucked your throat, your main focus being not to throw up all over his dick and covering your teeth with your lips. Nonetheless, your tongue sliding and drawing patterns across his length caused him to curse from time to time and your pussy sensuously clenched around nothing each time. At some point, and you hadn't even noticed his free hand traveling down your back, he kneaded the flesh of your ass, jiggling it in his palm and then actually slipped it between your legs again, pulling your tiny panties to the side. You rejoiced, a muffled yelp spilling from your mouth and your hips buckling, which made Joel scoff in arrogance.

"Keep your mouth right there. Don't ya fuckin' move or I swear to god I'll stop."

He went around your clit in tight and precise circles, making you wonder how he managed to maintain such a clear head while you were down here struggling to remember how to breathe. But perhaps it was just Joel's fingers knowing every inch of your body so well that he knew exactly where to rub, how much pressure to apply and when to flick your clit to the side. He had you soaked and slick for him in a matter of minutes and Joel noticed it himself when he eased his thumb into your hole, lowly grunting and pushing your head down to have his dick buried deep inside of you for a moment before freeing you again and returning to his steady pace.

"I bet you've been this wet since you stepped into my car. Bet you wore that to distract me and hoped I'd fuck you in that car. Let's see if you're gonna get that… Need to try harder to get my dick in your pussy, babygirl. And I think daddy isn't quite aware yet of how sorry you truly are."

Part of you knew that Joel was playing tricks on you. You simply didn't buy that he would actually neglect your pussy, one of his favorite places in the world just because you happened to act like a brat today. He was turned on and horny so ignoring your pussy would surely be a punishment for him too. Still, another much more desperate and frustrated part, told you not to test it and rather do as he told before you actually ended up sitting in the passenger seat with your drenched panties, your clit throbbing, swollen and craving a release while Joel drove the two of you home – Joel all satisfied of course. And if that were to happen, it would be the biggest catastrophe you could think of.

Therefore, you tried even harder with the freedom he granted you. You swirled your tongue around his magnificent length, grazing his veins like you meant to worship and memorise every single one and doing your best not to fight back too hard when he pressed your face down his manhood.

"Jesus christ… That's it… take it."

Meanwhile, Joel wasn't ungracious either. He was stilll playing with your pussy, rubbing and tapping against your clit in a way that made it hard for you to properly focus on pleasing him from time to time. Your movements became sloppier, your concentration fading, but it seemed as though Joel had no problems reminding you, pressing a hand on the back of your head to force himself down your throat.

Drool was smeared all over the lower half of your face, mixed with a few tears that had made their way down your cheeks and of course his precum that you hadn't been able to swallow entirely. It was messy and obscene – and so were the sounds that the two of you were producing on each other's bodies – but who cared out here in the woods with no one around?

When Joel finally released your head you were almost feeling disappointed. Not because he had made it particularly easy for you, triggering your gag reflexes and pushing you to the limits the past minutes, but because his hand between your legs came to a stop as well. You let out a noise of disapproval, darting up to him while shifting your hips in search of him, but Joel showed no reaction.

"Backseat," was all he ordered you to do, opening the driver's door to enter the car in the back while you climbed between the seats in the front. An electric wave went through your body at the sight of him, his jaw tight and his teeth grinded, his whole body tense like he was restraining himself, which drove you wild. You must be a view too with your face all messy and dirty, but Joel still limited himself to the bare minimum. Manhandling you the way he wanted you. Giving you short commands.

"Take your panties off," he barked, opening the buttons of his shirt and sliding it off his shoulders while you were pulling down your drenched panties with trembling hands. When you looked at your boyfriend again, he was comfortably sitting in the backseat, his hands on the seat on either side of his hips and his legs slightly spread. His eyes were flashing as he patted his thigh, chewing on the inside of his cheek which made his neck flex so deliciously.

"Go on. Fast."

The limited space in the car slowed you down when you crawled onto Joel's lap, but in the end you managed to find a steady position, your legs straddling his thighs and your arms around his neck.

"You know what to do, dirty slut," Joel hissed, his expression still cold even as he was looking into your best puppy eyes. A slapping sound echoed against the car walls as his hand came down on your ass and you jerked forward.

"Come on. You better ride me well or I'll pin ya down on the ground outside and fuck you 'til the animals know my name."

Although the prospects of his words weren't too bad either you really didn't want to be introduced to the muddy forest soil so you gave him a nod, meeting his gaze while you grabbed his hard dick and glided it through your folds. You wanted to be good, work precisely and sensually, but in response Joel took hold of your hair and tugged it back, his teeth sinking into your skin at your jaw.

"I ain't got all fuckin' day, babygirl. You're gonna get to work right now."

You whimpered at the sting on your scalp, writhing in his grip, but managed to bring his tip to your dripping entrance where you circled it once, then twice before inserting it in your pussy. Joel and you groaned in unison, your fingers clutching the locks in the back of his head and your thigh shaking dangerously as you sank down on him.

"Jesus fuckin'…"

You considered the fact that he wasn't able to finish the sentence a good sign and it motivated you further to be so good, he would lose his mind. You took your time while allowing him to fill you, but didn't go too slowly either. In your mind it was the perfect mixture between tasting and savouring every moment and giving him enough so when he was inside of you to the hilt, you proudly grinned to yourself.

The smile was knocked off your face when Joel buried his fingers in your ass and gave your cheeks a firm squeeze.

"Stupid doll. Stupid fuckin' doll who's always tryin' to please me so desperately but can't ever make it right. Always have to guide you an' tell you what to do 'cause you're too fuckin' dumb to come up with it yourself."

He wrapped a hand around your neck, palming your throat while slowly rolling his hips underneath you.

"I thought after 2 years of dating I turned you into a good 'lil sex toy. Taught you how to be good for daddy. But look at this. Look at you puttin' in such a great effort but messin' it up every goddamn time. S'fuckin' pathetic."

You squealed and whimpered, your hands grasping his broad shoulders while he fucked into you from underneath without giving you time to adjust to his thick length.

"Now now…," he commented on the way your nails scratched his skin, kneading the side of your ass that jiggled every time Joel thrust up into you.

"Please. Please, Joel," you pressed, your voice airy and thin, not knowing what you were asking for.

"Shut up," he instantly growled, cutting off your air supply further and laughing at your pathetic little gasps. You were struggling to keep yourself up, your legs burning and your torso threatening to hunch over so you grabbed his bicep in a desperate attempt to cling to something. Joel had obviously noticed the fact that your body was beginning to be too weak to support you, but he was yet to act upon it. He was just whispering dirty things in your ear, degrading you to a pitiful mess while making you bounce on his fat dick.

"Remember how you wanted this? You still do, huh? Do you regret beggin' me like a filthy whore just 'cause you couldn't wait for 20 fuckin' minutes? I would've fucked you nice 'n' slow, babygirl… Maybe tease you just a 'lil bit for wearin' that slutty skirt, but I would've given it to my princess. Would've laid you down on your back and prepare you with my tongue and then slowly feed you my dick. And then make the both of us come and maybe even lick up the mess between your legs afterwards… But now… Look at you. Look at you cryin' and beggin'. It could've gone differently. Could've make it beautiful and romantic and sweet. But you acted like a cheap slut and so I'm gonna treat you like a cheap slut."

With these words Joel suddenly draped an arm around your waist and the other around your shoulders, lifted you off his dick and flipped you onto your stomach. The rough fabric of the seats left an irritating burn on your bare skin, but before you could complain about it, Joel had pulled you up by your hips so you were forced to be on all fours. Your head was spinning, your dry mouth agape and your pussy already stimulated by Joel, who hadn't wasted a second to enter you again.

"Jesus fuckin' christ… Such a good tight hole for me to use… A shame that you're such a slut. We could have so much fun together if you stopped bein' a brat."

He hit your backside hard, the pain so sudden and sharp that you arched your back away from him.

"Joel!" you pressed, your head dropping forward to rest on your hands.

"I know. I know, babygirl. You're feelin' all bad and regretful for behaving that way and you wanna be good and please me, but for some reason you piss me off again and again. Never fuckin' learn."

His hands felt like iron around your hips, his fingers leaving red marks on your skin and his dick thrusting in you at a punishing pace. Your cervix felt numb under the assault, but a kind that was strangely arousing to you. Part of you feared to let Joel know how much you enjoyed all of this because it was supposed to be a punishment after all, but somehow it didn't feel like that to you. Sure, his treatment was bordering on pain from time to time, your throat still sore and definitely bruised from his thick dick and your pussy was beginning to sting as well, but the pleasure was taking up much more space than the discomfort. In fact, the pain only seemed to add to the intoxicating thrill of it all, but you were afraid that letting Joel know wouldn't play into his cards.

It wasn't like he didn't care about you at all though. Why else would he have glided his hands between your legs again and circled your clit with that much expertise? Your eyebrows drew together, your breath hitching in your throat and your stiff nipples desperately pulsing for any kind of stimulation. Everything was overwhelming, your body on the verge of collapsing and your senses overstimulated by Joel and his dominant presence. Not only could you feel him with every inch of your body, his words had also put you in some sort of mesmerizing trance. You were humming to yourself, tears in your eyes that weren't caused by pain this time, but mere lust and the craving to reach your orgasm.

"I want you to cum for me, baby," Joel hissed under breath, his hips rapidly snapping against yours and his thumb around your nub sloppy and messy, but so good.

"Y-Yes. Yes, Joel, please..."

The last word turned into a yelp, your eyes so small you could barely make out the car door right in front of your nose.

"Cum. C'mon, babygirl. Soak my dick. Wanna feel you clench around it. Make daddy proud, c'mon."

He slapped your left cheek, then your right before slipping an arm around your body to twist your nipple betwen his fingers.

"Fuck. Fuck, Joel – I – "

You stopped, stumbling over your own words and then your body tensed up. You buckled and arched your back as waves of shock washed over you, causing you to moan and whimper and in the end you collapsed as if all your energy had been drained. Lucky for you, Joel was there to catch you and held you in place while he was still chasing his own high. You were quietly whimpering, your heartbeat fast and unsteady, but when you heard a low growl rumbling in Joel's chest everything was forgotten. You could always sense when he was orgasming based on his noises, his husky voice and catching breath so distinct. Feeling him cum inside of you was one of your greatest pleasures in life and so you savoured every moment of his dick twitching inside you and painting your sore walls with white, sticky ropes of his seed.

"Joel," you whispered, a high-pitched squeak spilling from your mouth while your pussy clenched around his length in delight.

"I know, baby," he groaned, keeping a hand firm on your hips to make you stay in place.

Then the two of you were embraced by silence for a few minutes. You were breathing heavily, your bodies and faces sweaty and flushed with the aftermath of your heated encounter and the two of you yet too exhausted to change your positions. But finding that not only was it time for you to really go home now, but you were also in need of a shower, Joel eventually withdrew his flaccid member from you and shoved his underwear up.

"Jesus," he sighed, spanking your ass one last time before picking up your panties from the floor of the car and slipping your feet through the holes. You raised your knees to help him and then turned around on clumsy legs, your skirt falling into place again.

"Joel," you mumured, unable to articulate your needs, but he understood, reached for your waist and pulled you toward his chest.

"I know, baby. Did so good. Gonna get us home now, okay?"

You nudged your nose against his collarbone, shaking your head and holding on to him like life depended on it.

"No. Don't wanna let go."

His body vibrated with soft chuckles, his palm stroking over your still bare back.

"Ohh sweetheart… It's only 5 more minutes. Then we'll be home and we're gonna shower and then we'll cuddle on the couch. I'm gonna get you somethin' to eat 'n' to drink and then we're gonna spend the afternoon together. I promise."

He carefully took hold of your head, slowly raising it from his chest and then smiling at your big eyes that were sparkling with defiance.

"I promise, babygirl. Daddy's gonna hold you all afternoon and night if you want that. We can watch a movie and I'm gonna let ya choose which one. How does that sound?"

You bit down on your bottom lip, searching his face for any sign of untruth, but could only find soft brown deer eyes that were radiating adoration.

"Okay," you whispered, giving him a explorative smile and allowing him to pull your top over your body and guide you out of the car and to the passenger seat.

Joel held the door open for you, then leaned over to fasten your seatbelt before quietly slamming the door shut and entering the car from the other side. Once there, he connected his hand with your bare thigh and squeezed it gently.

"I love you, princess. Gimme a kiss."

You nodded, stretching your body toward him and pressing your lips on his.

"Good girl," Joel cooed, cupping your chin before adjusting in the driver's seat. The he gave you a wry grin.

"And if you're always so good, daddy never has to be so rough with you again."

Your lips twisted in a smile, your eyes glancing at his profile while he started the car.

If only he knew that this really wasn't in your interest.

[lacydollette]

CASUAL , TWO ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ‘casual’ mini series

pairing: fwb!dean x fem!reader

warnings: unrequited love, fwb, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, praise, explicit language, angst, reader feeling used, arguing, dean being a scared lil bitch, nsfw, 18+,

Dean knew he was asking for a lot the moment he hit the call button. He leaned against the creaky wall of the random, rundown motel room he had booked. His mind was racing, though he wasn't really sure why. He just needed a distraction, something to pull him out of the mess inside his head, and you—well, you always knew how to make him feel better.

He'd heard that you were on a case nearby, and now, here he was. Again. Calling you like it was nothing, like your last time together didn't feel... different.

While on the other end you had stared at your phone for what felt like an eternity, your thumb hovering over Dean's name. You knew what he wanted. You always did. It wasn't a mystery why Dean was calling you up out of the blue at 1am.

Your first instinct was to ignore him. You didn't need this—didn't need to be his go-to when he needed an escape. Lately, every time you thought of him, it felt like your heart cracked a little more. And despite his emotional distance you couldn’t help yourself.

"Dean?" You voice crackled through the phone as you picked up the call. "Hey, uh... You still in the area?" he asked, trying to sound casual. You sighed on the other end, and Dean could already feel your hesitation. "Yeah, I'm around.”

"Good. There's this motel a few miles off the highway. Thought maybe you could, I don't know, come ‘round?"

"I don't think I can," you said, your voice softer now, but firm. "I'm busy." Dean frowned, pushing off the wall and pacing. "C'mon, y/n. Just a couple of hours. It's not like we haven't done this before." A sarcastic chuckle left your lips, sounding almost bitter. "Exactly, Dean. We've done this before. Too many times."

"Yeah, but—" Dean started, then stopped, running a hand through his hair. He wasn't sure what the hell he was supposed to say to that. It wasn't like he could argue with you. You both knew what the deal was. Casual, no strings, no messy emotions.

But still, he found himself pushing. "I just need you, okay? For tonight. Just to get out of my head." Dean could feel his heart thudding against his ribcage.

It wasn't supposed to be that complicated.

You wanted to say no. You should say no. You knew that you’d leave feeling emptier than when you came, like you always did, yet the thought of not seeing him at all—that was even worse. You hated it. Hated yourself for it. It was ridiculous, really, how you kept giving in, knowing how things would end.

"Fine," you finally said. "I'll be there."

When you arrived at the motel, the familiar sight of Dean's black Impala parked outside brought a lump to your throat. You’d convinced yourself on the way over that you’d keep your guard up this time, that you wouldn't let him get under your skin.

But the moment you walked into that damn room and saw him sitting on the edge of the bed, all your defenses began to crumble. He stood up, giving you that same tired smile you’d seen a hundred times before. "Hey."

"Hi," you echoed, crossing your arms over your chest, trying not to let your frustration show. You weren’t here to fight—not yet, anyway. But the weight of everything unsaid was suffocating you.

But Dean wasted no time, stepping toward you and pulling you into his arms, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both urgent and needy. You wanted to push him away, tell him this wasn't what you wanted anymore, but damn it, your body betrayed you. You kissed him back, letting yourself get lost in him for a moment, because it was easier than dealing with the truth.

You two fell back onto the bed, lost in each other like you had countless times before. For a little while, you could forget. You could pretend that this wasn't just about the physical, that maybe, just maybe, there was something more between the two of you. But deep down, you knew better.

Dean’s body pressed more firmly against yours, his chest solid and warm as it met yours, adjusting himself just enough so that he was hovering above you. His tongue pushed gently against your lower lip before slipping into your mouth, deepening the kiss.

You moaned quietly, hands finding his hair, tugging lightly at the nape of his neck as his hands traveled down your sides, leaving goosebumps all over your body. You could feel his growing erection pressing against you, slowly grinding himself back and forth on your core. The urgency in his movements made you feel wanted, desired, but at the same time you felt empty, just wanting it to be over.

Dean tugged at the waistband of your jeans, pulling them off within a matter of seconds before he freed himself from his own clothes, leaving you both bare. “You’re so fucking gorgeous.” He mumbled, the words leaving his lips almost unconsciously. Of course he thought that you were stunning, but maybe it meant a lot more to you than he realized.

You inhaled sharply as you felt Dean’s finger teasing your entrance, smirking as he felt how wet you’ve gotten over the course of a few seconds. You surely couldn’t deny the fact that he turned you on.“Soaked already?” He chuckled, making you nod hastily.

Grabbing your hips he secured you onto the mattress, pressing you down gently before he pushed his aching tip past your entrance, a loud moan escaping your lips. Your walls clenched around him almost immediately, making him groan.

“Fuck sweetheart, that tight cunt ‘s sucking me right in.”

You let out another moan, eyes fluttering shut as you felt his cock filling you up to the brim, a perfect fit. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he almost pulled himself out completely before slamming right back in, hitting your sweet spot over and over again.

“Hngh..shit—“ you hissed, your nails digging into his back, skin slapping against skin echoing through the motel room. Dean's hand moved to cup your ass, his fingers digging in slightly as he pulled you closer with each thrust, craving every single inch of your body. As he continued to fuck you at a steady pace you felt yourself getting closer, clenching around his thick cock.

Dean was quick to redirect his hand in between your bodys, finding your clit, and circling the sensitive nub to drive you completely over the edge. You could feel your body tensing up, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level. “Dean, I’m gonna—“ you whined out before the band in your stomach snapped, cumming hard all over his cock.

"That's it, baby.” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, not even noticing the little petname that had slipped past his lips. He gave you a few more hard thrusts before letting out a loud groan himself, feeling his dick twitch as he came deep inside of you, painting your walls white with his cum, and leaving both of you breathless.

Dean fell down beside you in the quiet aftermath, the soft glow from the motel's flickering light casting shadows on the walls, staring up at the ceiling like he always did. It was so routine by now that you could almost predict his every move.

But tonight, something felt different. The silence between you was heavier than usual, and you felt a knot forming in your chest. You waited for him to say something, anything, but when he finally spoke, his words cut through you like a knife.

"You’re so good at this stuff. It’s like you were made for it.”

You froze. Made for it? Your heart sank. The casualness of his words, the thoughtless way he dismissed whatever connection you two had, made you feel sick. You sat up quickly, eyes burning with anger and hurt. "That's all I am to you? A fucking hooker?” Dean turned to you, clearly confused. "What? That’s not- Why are you suddenly acting like this?"

Your anger was burning up, but so was your pain. It wasn't just this moment; it was all of it. Everything you’d been holding back for so long, everything you’d swallowed down, was bubbling to the surface. "Why wouldn't I act like this, Dean? Last time we met, we literally had dinner with your brother, and you fucked me in the bathroom like some random slut who’s hopping on anyone’s dick. And now you wonder why I'm bitter?"

Dean blinked, caught off guard. "That was just... it wasn’t—You know how it is with us." He babbled. "No, Dean," you shot back, voice shaking. "I thought I knew how it was. But apparently, I've been fooling myself this whole time. I hate that I let this drag on so long, and now, I hate myself for it."

Dean sat up, running a hand through his hair. This was exactly what he was afraid of. "I thought we were on the same page here, y/n.”

This was just how things were, right? Casual. No complications.

"I'm not just someone you can call when you're bored or need to get out of your head," you continued, voice breaking. "I deserve more than that, and the fact that I've let this go on for so long—it kills me. Because I hate that I've let myself care about someone who clearly doesn't care about me."

Dean's heart sank at your words. He'd always known you were more than just a quick fix for his demons, but hearing it laid out like that? It stung. And for the first time in a long time, he didn't know how to fix this. "y/n...I-" Dean began, his voice soft, almost pleading. "I didn't mean to make you feel like that. I didn't—"

You cut him off, shaking your head as tears welled up in your eyes. "It doesn't matter, Dean. What's done is done. I just... I can't keep doing this. Not like this."

The room fell silent again, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. Dean stared at you, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to wrap his head around what was happening. He wanted to say something, anything to make it right, but the truth was, he didn't know how.

But what he knew was that the thing between you two wasn’t as casual as he pretended it to be, and that scared the shit out of him. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.

You stood up, heart pounding in your chest as you began putting on your clothes. You couldn't stay here—not when everything felt so raw, so exposed. Dean watched you, the guilt etched on his face, but he didn't say anything to stop you.

"I need to go," you said quietly, pulling on your jacket and heading for the door. You could feel his eyes on you. "y/n.." Dean called after you, his voice almost too faint to hear.

You paused at the door, your hand resting on the knob, and for a brief second, you thought about turning back, thought about giving him one more chance. But you didn't. Instead, you opened the door and walked out, leaving Dean alone in that empty motel room.

He sat there, staring at the door long after it had closed, the weight of everything he hadn't said pressing down on him like heavy rain. He had no idea if you’d come back. And for the first time, he wasn't sure if he wanted you to. Because you deserved better than what he had to offer.

coming from first hand experience 😁 anyways..

feedback and requests are greatly appreciated !!

tags: 🏷️ @gibson-g1rl @beausling @angelicjackles @deansbite @figthoughts @deansenvy @chevroletdean @rubyvhs @sugardean @figurantedefilme @cosmicanakin @sammyluvr @nuemanfilms @titsout4nicholas

[celestial-grls]

Ciao Amore - Emily Engstler x fem!reader

summary: You and Emily are on vacation in Italy together. You have a small argument on your first night there, angst ensues... word count: 2.0k a/n: I definetely wanna write a part 2 to this w/ smut...y'all lmk

This could've been the perfect ending to your and Emily's first night in Italy. Except both of you let the exhaustion from traveling and jet lag get to you, which resulted in a couple's quarrel. 

It wouldn't be fair to say you started it—except maybe that's what Emily would've believed when you gave her the wrong directions to the hotel and delayed your check-in time by a whole hour. 

At first, Emily tried to keep her composure as she asked you for confirmation on which way to turn. She scrubbed her right hand down her face and sighed, "Baby, I need you to tell me if I gotta turn left here or up ahead." 

The sun is blinding, and the tiny sun visor in the mini Cooper you guys decided to rent is barely doing anything to block it out. You're hopelessly trying to translate the directions from Italian to English from your phone. Still, you're getting less and less service the farther into the drive you guys get. Since it's quiet, you each thought the Tuscan countryside was the best option for your honeymoon. No one would recognize Emily here, and if they did, they'd be more lowkey than fans elsewhere could be. But with half a tank of gas gone, sweat collecting on the back of your neck, and a headache forming behind your eyes, your patience is wearing thin, too. 

"Umm…I think it's the next left. Yeah, the one up ahead." There isn't anything in your tone that leads Emily to believe you. 

"Are you sure? Because if not, we can't make a U-turn here." 

"Yeah, Em. That's what it says in the directions." 

As it turned out, you guys were supposed to take the first left, not the second, which led you through a tiny town with the narrowest roads you've ever seen. Emily had to drive as slowly as possible, and you tried to warn her about some of the Vespas parked on the side street. 

"Em! You almost scraped that Vespa!" You yelled in exasperation after she avoided the Vespa by half an inch. 

"Baby, relax. I know what I'm doing," she huffs before adding, "unlike some people." 

You know she's just as eager to get to your hotel as you are, so you let the sass slide this time. "Okay. I wanna see you try to read these directions in Italian. Maybe I should drive instead." 

Emily rolls her eyes and scoffs as she drives out of the little town and into wider streets. The directions show that you guys are back where you're supposed to be. "Not if we wanna make it to the hotel in one piece." 

Scrunching your brow, you ask her, "What's that supposed to mean?" You shift closer to your door, taking your elbow off the center console. 

Emily immediately notices your change in body language. She places her hand on your knee, trying to make amends. She glances over at you but stands by what she said. "C'mon, baby. Don't be ridiculous." 

You scoff and start rubbing at your temples. "You know I can drive! It's insulting you don't think I can!" 

Ever since the two of you started dating, it was evident that you would have to navigate each other's stubbornness. For most of your relationship, Emily was the driver, and you were in the passenger seat. You glanced down at the directions on your phone and saw it'd be about another five miles before you reached your hotel. 

"I never said you couldn't drive! You know what I meant, Y/N," Emily's grip tightens against the wheel as you look out the window, not meeting her gaze. 

You annoyedly sniffle and tell her, "Just go straight for another five miles." 

Both of you knew it would be the longest five miles you've ever had to drive together. 

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When you both arrived at the hotel, you could finally breathe outside the Mini Cooper's confines. The sun was starting to go down as you guys checked in, and neither of you said a word to each other. As you began to take the dress you would wear out of your suitcase, you couldn't stop angrily unzipping the sides. Emily was stomping around the room in search of her slippers. When you kicked them in front of her, she pouted at you and flopped on the bed. 

You both knew you could behave like little kids when you got into little spats. It was a relief to finally be out of the heat, stop the stressful shuffling that comes with traveling, and finally get to spend time alone together. 

Emily sunk into the bed, shutting her eyes and harshly rubbing at them. When she opened them and turned onto her side, she watched you slide open the balcony door to lean against the railing, eyes trailing the Italian countryside lit up at night. She watched you tie your robe tighter around yourself, knowing you were probably about to step into the shower, 

She thought about opening the door and apologizing, but she figured you each needed some moments alone. She felt so sullen, watching you from behind the door. This was supposed to be a time you could spend together, finally away from the craziness and pressure back home. 

The hotel was beautiful. Outside of the balcony, it looked like the streets were lit up with millions of tiny string lights, and through the cracked door, you could hear the chatter of other couples having an early dinner. Emily sank further into the plush hotel bed before grabbing her book and busying herself. 

You open the door and come back inside, barely glancing at Emily. Emily peers over the top of the book and watches you disappear behind the bathroom door. 

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You came out of the bathroom with damp hair and your face scrubbed clean of the makeup you had on before. Emily was still reading on the bed when you decided to sit next to her. She closed her book, marking the page before meeting your gaze. 

You tuck a stray hair behind your ear, getting water drips on Emily's arm. You look down at your robe tie before saying, "We should probably get dinner." 

Emily sits in bed, unsure whether she's in your good graces again. She tests the waters by tucking your other strand behind your ear. When you let her, she feels relieved. "Sure, baby. Let's get dinner." 

You each get ready silently, hanging onto a tightness in your chest. It's stupid to argue the way you do because neither of you likes to admit when you're wrong. The only sounds from your hotel room are from the whir of you blow-drying your hair and Emily hanging up some shirts before choosing the one she'll wear tonight. Even if you are a little upset with her, you hope she wears the blue striped shirt that you love so much on her. 

Emily's still watching you from her place on the bed. She's considering how and at what point she should apologize to you tonight. Even if it is true that you're not a stellar driver, she shouldn't have made a comment when both of you were clearly grouchy and eager to just get to the hotel. 

It's when she sees you twist your hair up into a clip and slip on a slinky black dress that you've had forever that she feels wholly disarmed and forgets why you guys ever argue in the first place. You're leaning over the bathroom sink to dab the lipstick on and swiping what's left on your fingers on your cheeks, puckering and pouting in the mirror, completely unaware of the way Emily's looking at you. She stands there for a few seconds before clearing her throat and grabbing her shoes. When you leave the bathroom, she looks down shyly like a kid in trouble and mumbles, "Ready to go?" 

You nod, remaining neutral outside, but seeing Emily's guilty face tugs at your heart. "Let me grab my shoes." 

"I-uh. I took them out already. They're by the nightstand." She nervously adjusts the rings on her fingers as she tells you this. You brought your favorite black heels on vacation and wear them for most of the date nights you guys have.

This little gesture that she does really makes you feel guilty about giving her the cold shoulder, so you stand in front of her, bringing your hand up to rest against her face, and tell her, "Thanks, baby." 

Emily stills and looks down at you, eyes focusing on the lip color you're wearing and wondering when it'll be time to kiss you. She'd never dream of asking if you're still mad at her because she knows better than that, and chooses to wait it out and see. When you're done slipping on your heels, she puts her hand on the small of your back as you exit the hotel and have dinner at one of the restaurants down the street. 

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It's hard to stay mad at each other in a restaurant this romantic. Your waiter poured each of you a glass of red wine and left the bottle for you both to split over the course of dinner. Emily's nervously twisting her rings while you look directly at her with your chin propped on the palms of your hand. She's focused on her plate of pasta while you sip from your glass of wine. She wipes the napkin at the corner of her mouth before clearing her throat and looking at you. 

Right now, she could really forget she's in Italy at all. All she could see was the gravity of your long eyelashes blinking back at her, your hand wrapped around the wine glass, and the corners of your mouth turned down into a slight frown. 

"Y/N? I wanted to say I'm sorry, baby." She laughs, reaching across the table to grab your hand. "I was–I shouldn't have said what I did back there in the car." 

You look at her downturned brown eyes, the blue shirt you love so much, and how it bounces off the soft light of the restaurant. You've been thinking about kissing her since she set your shoes out for you, desperately restraining yourself against kissing her stupid and forgetting you were ever angry with each other. 

You sigh, "Are we idiots, Em?" 

Emily laughs, "We must be. We're like little kids." She punctuates the tenderness of the admission by kissing the back of your hand. 

You shrug, "I'm not the best driver, I know." 

Emily doesn't say anything at first, knowing it'd only get her in more trouble to agree with that statement. "Aw baby, you know I can't read Italian. I think you were the best person for the job." 

You playfully roll your eyes, "You don't have to grovel, y'know? You're already in my good graces again." 

Emily reaches across the table to hold the side of your head, gently pressing her lips to yours. You've been thinking about her hands in your hair since she tucked your hair behind your ear earlier in the hotel room. When you pull apart, all you can taste is the wine you've both been drinking, pausing to see how it's turned the corners of Emily's mouth a delicious shade of red. Observing the color makes you kiss her back more intensely, running a finger across her jawline. 

She leans back in her chair, spreading her legs a bit before slowly sipping from her wine glass. "Y'look pretty t'night, ma." 

She's flirting with you like you guys haven't been dating for some time now. You narrow your eyes at her, "Yeah?" 

She gives you one long look, sweeping her eyes from top to bottom. "Yeah." 

You consider what your next move should be. Your instincts tell you to ask your lover what she's thinking. Her expression is relieved, cheeks flushed from the wine you've both had. Out of habit, you actually do, softly whispering, "What are you thinking, Em?" 

She looked to the side before smirking, "I think we should go back to the room so I can show you how sorry I am."

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly | extra

rafe buying reader a gift at the gas station

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- C H . 1 7 | C H . 1 8 ->

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ swearing, suggestive themes and implications, awkward!rafe, cougar behavior from an older woman (age appropriate but still gross), mention of alcohol consumption (flashback), one-sided flirting, kinda ptsd!rafe lol, rafe going insane (again)

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ 2.8k+

✿ A / N ✿ thx @wefelldowntherabbithole13 for requesting this. hope you guys enjoy this little extra and lmk what you think <3

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// READ CHAPTER 17 BEFOREHAND IF YOU DON'T WANNA GET SPOILED

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W E E K O N E // S A T U R D A Y 2 : 5 5 P M

Rafe was so close to ripping off the fucking gas cap of his fucking Benz because why the fuck wouldn't it close, HUH?!

Or better yet: why the fuck did this stupid shit piss him off so goddamn bad in the first place?

OH RIGHT. Probably something to do with how he’d just dropped you off in the fucking Cut, at that rat-infested shithole where his stupid sister and her loser rat friends always hung out.

FUCKING GREAT.

No. No, you hadn't exactly told him who’d be waiting for you there besides your loud-ass friend and some dude she apparently needed help with. Seriously, Rafe still couldn’t wrap his head around how you of all people were supposed to help her. You could barely grasp the concept of flirting—how the hell were you supposed to be of any help besides driving everyone in a five-mile radius absolutely insane with your crazy head?

Rafe exhaled. Finally punched the damn gas cap shut with his fist.

Knuckles throbbing, he rubbed at them, though it hurt less than his damn head.

Like, Jesus fucking Christ, that stupid-ass conversation you two had just minutes ago? Rafe didn’t even know how the hell he’d managed not to crash the fuck out. He deserved a fucking gold medal or trophy for keeping his cool and actually calming your crazy ass down.

And the best part? Not even a whole fucking minute after he’d defused the ticking bomb that was your brain, you were already ready to ditch him.

Seriously, was Rafe just some fucking joke to you?

Sure, yeah, okay, your friend had indeed called, and apparently you’d promised to hang out with her anyway today. But that wasn’t exactly a solid reason to dip immediately. You could’ve stayed just a little longer and… yeah. Done what, exactly?

Under different circumstances, it would've been late evening, and Rafe would've gone to your place because no way in hell was he bringing a girl around his nosy-ass family. And of course, you'd have the house to yourself—Rafe had zero interest in dealing with a random girl's parents (except that yours actually were pretty chill). You'd have giggled at the door, walked in, one thing would've led to another, and he'd have you moaning into the sheets. Or well, not moaning, considering at this point he’d rather shut you up and feel you choke on his—

Fuck, he really didn’t need to get hard at a damn gas station.

And yeah, just like with his occasional (!!!) hookups (again, he wasn't a fuckboy, alright?), he’d either crash at your place, too lazy to drive back, or show up at Kelce’s or Top’s, do a line, and pass out on the couch.

That’s it.

But those hadn't been the circumstances. It had been the middle of the fucking day, and Rafe knew better than to expect some quick fun with you. Hell, he’d be out of his fucking mind if he even tried making a move. You’d probably lose it, that whole exhausting conversation would start all over again, and even more likely: You’d freak the fuck out, dip, and that’d be the end of whatever the hell this was between you two.

Oh right, now there actually was a label. Apparently you were aiming for a friendship, or rather you thought he wanted one.

Cute, really. You two had barely known each other for, what, a week? Not even? And you’d already pressured him into deciding where things were going after the project because apparently, your brain needed to "make space for new people if they decided to stay" otherwise your anxiety would eat you up.

Aight.

Like, dude. Chill the fuck out for once. Why couldn’t you just live in the fucking moment for a second? But no, you had to constantly leap a thousand steps ahead and dissect every possible outcome.

You were literally the least chill person Rafe had ever met, and somehow, he still couldn’t bring himself to dislike you. How? He didn’t fucking know. Probably better if he never figured it out, because unlike you, he didn’t need every single answer to every goddamn situation.

Jesus Christ.

But yeah, sure, why not. Rafe loved collecting annoying people as his friends for a living. One more wouldn’t kill him. Bonus points to you, though, because for some fucked up reason, he actually had fun with you. Sometimes more than with Kelce and Top. And well, he didn't have the option to flirt with those two. But with you? Shit, it was his new favorite activity.

Which brought him back to the original question: What the fuck was Rafe supposed to do with a female friend?

Like, with Topper and Kelce, he’d hit the country club, hang out at one of their places, smoke some hookah, hit some beach bar or the gym.

Wait. On second thought—dragging you into the gym, you wearing tight leggings, squatting in front of him, and—

Rafe rubbed the bridge of his nose. He seriously needed to think of some other shit.

Another reason he desperately needed a fucking line right now. This whole situation—he was actually going insane.

First things first: pay for the goddamn gas.

The Benz gave two clicking sounds as Rafe locked it and headed into the station.

Good thing he’d driven back to the north side of the island. No way in hell he was about to get robbed by some cracked-out junkie at a Cut gas station where they probably laundered money and sold kidneys on the side.

“Pump Three,” Rafe said as he stepped up to the counter, eyes on his wallet, fumbling to get that fucking credit card out of the sleeve. Seriously, his patience was really being tested today.

“Oh, honey, what happened to your face?”

Rafe looked up—and his heart dropped.

Fucking shit. Not her.

Agatha Woods. 44, widow, Pogue, and the fucking woman Rafe had almost hooked up with last year at a bonfire party.

She’d been working the bar (which—let's be real—grown woman hanging out at a teenager party? Fucked-up), and Rafe had been doing shots one after the other with Top. And then Topper—holy shit, that was the party the idiot almost hooked up with your friend—dipped, and Rafe got left behind. And for some goddamn fucked-up unexplainable reason, he'd stayed at the bar with cougar Agatha and let her keep pouring him drink after drink.

Fucking shit, he'd been so wasted and desperate anyway because he'd dropped Gracie a week before and then there had been fucking Agatha with her triple Ds, her purring at him and fuck, Jesus Christ, his whole body literally tensed at the memory. His horny, almost-blackout self had almost followed her to her truck if Kelce hadn’t intercepted him.

Actually no, Rafe's entire skin was covered in goosebumps right now.

Shitshitshitshit. Just ignore her. She won’t remember. She probably pulls this shit on every guy who'd just celebrated his 18th birthday.

He shook his head and shrugged like it was no big deal, avoiding her eyes. “Golf club accident.”

Now Rafe was forced to meet her eyes, only because he was trying so fucking hard not to look down at her way-too-exposed cleavage as she leaned forward on the counter.

“I’m off soon, want me to take a look at that?” she said, fluttering her lashes in that sweet—actually, no, raspy smoker’s voice of hers.

Rafe kind of wanted to go back to Barry’s and let the guy shoot his brains out, because what the actual fuck. Why was he getting hit on by a woman twice his age? For the second time.

He just shook his head, letting out a tight chuckle. “Nah, I’m good. So, uh ... Pump Three.”

“I heard you just fine the first time,” Agatha said with a smirk, leaning back. “Just thought maybe you’d wanna pick up where we left off last time.”

Please just let me fucking pay. Holy shit.

Rafe gave a strained smile. “How much?”

Agatha chuckled. “Oh, sweetie, this is a gas station, not a brothel.”

What the—fucking shit, what?

His neck and cheeks were suddenly burning, and for a second he genuinely considered walking out and setting the entire gas station on fire, himself included.

Jesus Christ. This day was just getting worse by the goddamn second.

“I’m well aware,” he replied but his fucking voice cracked, and FUCKING HELL.

The hunting knives on the counter suddenly looked way too inviting, even though they were sitting right next to a blindingly pink stand full of glittery, oversaturated plastic bags with little rainbow-colored horses printed on them.

Okay. Seriously. The fucking universe—or whatever sick fuck ran it—was messing with him, because guess what was printed in bold letters on that stand?

Friendship Bracelets: Pick Your Pony, Share The Sparkle.

What. The. Fuck.

This had to be some serious joke. Hadn't he just made fun of the idea of making you a friendship bracelet a few minutes ago, just to shut you up?

“Four bucks.”

Startled, Rafe snapped his eyes back to the cougar, blurting out, “Huh?”

She laughed. “Looking at that thing with that big eyes of yours. You got a friend you wanna share the magic with?”

“Girlfriend, actually.”

The words had left his mouth before his brain could even catch up.

Shit.

Even worse than calling you his girlfriend in front of the cougar trying to bag him: he seriously considered buying one of the dumb bracelets.

See? This was your fucking fault. Riling him up with your psycho brain, then bouncing to Sarah’s rathole where she was most likely also hanging out. And now, here he was, about to buy you some glittery-ass children’s bracelet just to… fuck, he didn’t even know. Just the idea of you owning something he got you, it made his blood rush in a way that genuinely concerned him.

Well. One upside to the sudden topic shift: Agatha was backing off, now that she thought he was taken. Just like he’d intended, of course.

Guess she has some standards, at least.

“All grown up now, got yourself a girl, huh?,” she said with a giggle. “You oughta invest in a real bracelet then. Ain’t no girlfriend gonna want some kids’ toy meant for little girlies.”

“Nah,” Rafe muttered with a frown, cheeks warm. “She’ll like it.”

You loved sending fucked-up, crazy-ass crackhead pics to express your emotions. You’d absolutely love some discolored, shitty plastic bracelet from some shitty-ass horse cartoon.

And the fact that Rafe even knew that fucking cartoon in the first place was reason enough to buy one of the hunting knives as well and end his misery right here. Wheezie used to watch that crap when she was younger. He remembered those smiley, ugly-ass horses now.

Nonetheless, Rafe stepped closer to the stand, scanning the different packages. Apparently, each bracelet was themed after one of those LSD-tripping ponies.

There—that one. The obnoxious blue one with rainbow hair. He hated that smug, loud, egotistical piece-of-shit horse. Friendship bracelet for the Rainbow Dash in your life.

Yeah, no thanks. He wasn’t putting that asshole on your wrist.

“You need help choosing?” Agatha asked with a chuckle. “Otherwise move that sweet little ass of yours. Got another customer waiting.”

Rafe furrowed his brows and moved to the side, trying his best to ignore the heat crawling up his chest. First thing he’d do once he got out of here was a fucking line in the car, because fuck this day.

Okay. So what shitty-ass horse should he even get you?

He remembered the purple one with the emo bangs and that dumb little dragon sidekick. Wheezie’s favorite. Twilight Sparkle the package read.

Jesus, how the fuck did they all have shitty names like that?

Then there was the pink one. Of fucking course, she was called fucking Pinkie Pie. Rafe remembered her being all over the place and screaming and bouncing and just... no. That bitch reminded him way too much of Kelce for some reason. Or your best friend. Which was basically the same thing. Hard pass.

The weird cowgirl-looking horse just looked straight-up ugly. No way he’d let you wear ugly shit like that. Plus, it gave off full-on Pogue energy, so yeah, fuck that too.

Which left him with two fuckers called Rarity and Fluttershy.

And for some reason, Fluttershy just... felt right. Rafe couldn’t explain it, but he knew that was the one. Soft colors, none of that oversaturated eyesore bullshit. And her smile on the packaging—kinda sweet, kinda shy (well duh, the bitch was called Fluttershy for a reason), and she just radiated your vibe. Quiet, soft, but like... deep (in thought about some unnecessary bullshit probably).

He even remembered her being eerily like you. Awkward, kind, and anxious.

Jesus Christ, why the fuck did he even remember that?

Rafe grabbed the package with a grimace. It read Friendship Bracelet for the Fluttershy in your life. He seriously questioned his fucking sanity as he dropped it on the counter.

“Oh, so you finally picked one,” Agatha said, scanning it in with a smirk and raising an eyebrow. “I’m just gonna assume your girlfriend’s of legal age.”

HUH WHA—FUCKING SHIT, EW.

The audacity of that woman to say that of all people.

Rafe smiled crookedly, holding up his card. “Listen, lady, I’m in a fucking hurry, alright?”

Agatha chuckled again, holding out the reader. “That’ll be 110.55 then.”

The moment the confirmation beep rang out, Rafe snatched the bracelet and bolted the hell out of that goddamn gas station slash cougar pit. Before he ever stepped foot in there again, he’d rather make out with a fucking Pogue or shoot himself in the face.

In the car, he dropped the plastic package along with his wallet and keys into the center console and slammed on the gas. He needed to get out of there before that cougar actually chased him down.

And then the overwhelming urge to just crash his car into the nearest wall or tree rose up because:

Did he seriously just buy a fucking horse bracelet for a girl who was driving him completely insane, which also had the most fucked-up brain he’d ever witnessed?

Oh, and the worst part? He knew damn well he wouldn’t get anything in return. No sex. No blowjob. Not even a basic makeout. Probably just some awkward little smile and a confused “Thanks". Worst case? Another fucking discussion about what this meant, what Rafe’s intentions were, whether he was just trying to get in your pants, blah blah blah.

And the most fucked-up, goddamn infuriating part? He didn’t even seem to mind.

Sure, if you'd show him your gratitude on your knees, he wouldn’t complain (shit, just the thought almost made him hard), but Rafe had pretty much (almost) accepted that nothing like that was ever gonna happen between you two.

And guess friends without benefits didn't do this kinda shit, right? Like, Top and Kelce basically fit into this category and he'd never in a million years...just fuck no, what. Then again, they didn't have tits and a cute ass like yours, so. And moreover, Rafe would never ever gift them a cringe-ass fucking friendship bracelet. And definitely not one week after getting to know them.

Shit. The bracelet wasn’t supposed to mean anything anyway. Rafe just felt like he needed to make his point clear one more time, once and for all because he had this gut feeling that words didn’t cut it with you. Two days from now, you’d be whining again because Rafe made some harmless flirty joke, and your fucked-up head would twist it into some manipulative scheme of him wanting to get in your pants.

So when he'd give you this dumbass bracelet, he’d make fucking sure you read what it said:

F-R-I-E-N-D-S-H-I-P Bracelet.

Unfortunately, the gas station didn’t offer a bracelet that read “For the girl I got stuck with in a school project, who I kinda wanna bend over but I'm also fine with not doing so, even though she’s batshit crazy and wants a label six days in for a FUCKING HANGOUT, and for reasons only God knows I’m still putting up with her shit and guess I'm her fucking friend now and buying her this crap just to shut her spiraling brain up AND to make it loud and clear I'm not toying with her crazy ass”.

Jesus Christ.

He was losing it. He was actually going insane.

And the only reason for it?

You.

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K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- C H . 1 7 | C H . 1 8 ->

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T A G L I S T F O R M (taglist for this series is CLOSED but you can sign up for my other stuff through this link)

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[trans-queen-administrator]

Slaughterhouse Nine ranked on how likely they are to wear a maid outfit:

1 - Siberian. Bonesaw would want to play dress up, so that's the cause. If Siberian ever put a maid dress on it would crack her egg, and she would make it part of her outfit permanently, finally wearing some damn clothes. Matches the black and white striped skin, can make it invincible to keep it around.

2 - Murder Rat. Bonesaw dresses them up in one for fun maybe, same as Siberian, and it would only stay on until she gets bored. No agency, no say in it, neither Ravager nor Mouse Protector are thrilled but if they didn't want a maid dress they shouldn't have gotten Bonesaw'd.

3 - Bonesaw. It's a frilly fun dress that fits her cutesy aesthetic. I think she'd probably do it for a bit but likely switch to her usual outfit after. Probably a non-black variant, since she seems like she'd like colorful outfits more. About as likely as the previous two to wear one (and is the likely reason both would wear it in the first place) but would not stick around in a maid dress unlike them.

4 - Burnscar. No backbone, if Shatterbird asked her to put it on she'd put it on. Shatterbird is the #2 possible cause of maid outfits in the 9, although while Bonesaw makes others wear one because it's cute Shatterbird does it so she can feel superior to them. It's less likely for Shatterbird to make it happen because she'd maybe have to realize she's bisexual first.

5 - Jack. Neither Bonesaw nor Shatterbird would be a cause of this, and Jack would probably never put one on of his own free will, but if he did wear a maid outfit he'd stick with it for a shockingly long amount of time. Would modify it to show his chest like normal, attach knives to the bottom, and spin around to kill everyone in a half mile radius. Gets super pretentious about it too. "You see, the maid is a role in society that is always underestimated, overlooked. But without it, you all cease to function. By wearing this dress I remind you all of how fragile your civilization is, and invoke your greatest fear of the lower classes rising up in revolt. It's a metaphor, Skitter, you wouldn't get it."

6 - Cherish. Would only put it on if forced by Shatterbird, who hates her guts and therefore has a motive to humiliate her like this. Cherish would try to pretend it's planned and fine but would despise wearing it, taking it off the first chance she gets.

7 - Mannequin. Would only do it if he thought it was unnerving and weird and trans humanist. Which it could be, but I don't think that he's vibing with one very much so it'll never happen. Everyone here and below is very unlikely to ever even touch one.

8 - Crawler. Can't fit. Would try, but can't fit. Sorry big guy.

9 - Shatterbird. Would actually fucking die before thinking of putting one on herself, she needs to feel better than others and as a previous spoiled rich kid (affectionate) and pretentious asshole (affectionate) she would never be able to fathom a maid outfit as being anything other than demeaning. To her, being in a position of service or labor, which is inherent to being a maid, is probably a fate worse than death.

Honorable mention - Damsel of Distress. Canonically wants a mansion full of maids (and butlers iirc but shush), so there's a bit of a fixation on the concept there. She would absolutely rock one with her white hair and general aesthetic though, and I think she's slightly more likely than Shatterbird to accept that a maid outfit is not inherently a marker of lower class and to incorporate one into her outfit for the aesthetic.

Honorable mention 2 - Number Man. It's a professional outfit. Doesn't fit his aesthetic, but he'd have nothing against one.

[screamlet]

new fic: post 8x09-10 coda

my contribution to the "tommy shows up at eddie's place and finds buck there" collection. also on the ao3.

bucktommy / hopeful ending / 1k

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Buck thought about becoming a cyclist a few years ago. Like, as a personality trait. Like he thought he'd get really into biking on his off days, ride for miles and miles, maybe do some of those super long 50-mile races people allegedly did. Getting a newish start at Eddie's old place means taking his fancy bike out of storage and deciding whether it should come with him.

He starts riding and it's not exactly transformative, and he feels a little silly thinking it would be. But he keeps to it because, what, does he have anything else to do? Eddie's settling into his new house and working on his family (not just Chris, but all of his family) and everyone else in his life has their own families, and Buck has his bike. And running shoes. Maybe he should take up running instead. Or build a home gym, like Tommy has. Had. Has. He's not sure about the state of his home gym.

That also feels dumb, though, since Eddie told prospective tenants over and over again that there was a bustling suburban downtown area with a great gym that had reasonable membership prices, and honestly maybe at this point Buck should think about moving out of LA, too. At least when he lived in the Jeep and traveled all over, he met lots of new and different people who made time for him for a little while, and he'd be on the road before they could really lose interest in him and let him go.

"Are you crying?"

Buck's sitting on the front step of Eddie's house and rubbing at his eyes but, yeah, he might have been crying. Now he's definitely crying in front of Tommy, who's standing on the lawn with his hands on his hips. They stare at each other for a minute, like Tommy's waiting for an answer and as if Buck isn't obviously answering him.

"Feeling a little lonely, Tommy. How about you?" Buck leans on his knees and musters a smile. "What are you doing here anyway?"

Tommy takes another long moment to answer, but Buck's got nowhere else to be so he can wait him out. Wait, he lives here now; he literally has nowhere else to be.

"Eddie said his subletter wouldn't move in for a few more days but he thought he left the back door unlocked. Did he tell you the same thing?" Tommy raises his eyebrows. "Cute little scheme to get us to run into each other?"

Buck claps his hands. "I'm the subletter."

Tommy looks surprised, but tries to hide it. "And is the back door closed?"

"I'll find out." Buck, hollowed out, smiles again. "Need anything else?"

A beat. A long one, again. "I've been lonely, too."

"Really?" Buck asks. "With your karaoke trivia and—"

"I've been lonely, too," Tommy repeats.

Buck's less hollow now; a drop of pity for Tommy has hit the bottom of the bucket.

"Wanna sit with me? Be less lonely?" Buck clears his throat. "Eddie told you he was moving, right?"

"He did." Tommy comes closer. "Said he didn't need any help, though, so I didn't come by. Had all the help he needed. Did you guys have a going away thing?"

A wave of pity rolls into the bucket.

"It was really last minute," Buck says.

"Yep. I get it."

There's enough space, for sure, but Buck edges to one side of the step anyway. "There's space for you."

"That's okay." Tommy's lips are a fine line before they quirk into a smile. "I don't need the pity."

"Too bad," Buck replies. "I went and got too much for myself and there's leftovers with your name on them."

Tommy rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. He sighs loudly, playfully, then comes and sits next to Buck on the step. He asks, "You doing okay?"

"I mean, my pregnant sister got kidnapped and my best friend moved to another state and I moved out of my apartment that I've been in for five years and I still miss my ex-boyfriend but other than that. Yeah, just fine." Buck clears his throat and points to his bike. "Do I seem like a cyclist to you? Like could you see me really getting into biking?"

"I think if you want something, nothing will stop you," Tommy says. "If you want to date a guy and never have before, you're gonna date a guy. If you wanna learn everything about a dead cowboy and then give him a respectful funeral while you're covered in boils, you will. If you—Eddie gave me like five different lemon and walnut and cranberry-orange loaves before he left and he said you made them? You just like, started a baking side gig or something? Did you want to do that, too, or did it just happen to you?"

"Oh, that." Buck has been blushing as Tommy talked, ducking his head to hide it, shying away, but Tommy's leaned in like he has to make sure Buck doesn't miss a word. "I started baking after we broke up. It was a good distraction."

"Five—"

"You came at the tail end, honestly, you missed a whole bakery's worth over the holidays." Buck looks at him. "What have you been doing?"

"Me, well. I bought another car I could start restoring. I repainted my porch and the fence. Took up yoga because, I don't know, wasn't feeling that flexible anymore. Uh." Tommy motions to the bike. "Also thought about biking because who doesn't want to pedal away from their problems, right?"

Buck asks, "What's your schedule look like? Did you actually buy a bike? Want to go on a ride? I know a place that does rentals."

"Buck, I don't know."

He wants to howl and correct him (Evan) but he keeps his mouth shut.

"Just an offer," Buck says. "I'm gonna head in now. Do you want water or something before you head back?"

Tommy doesn't make a move until Buck does, standing up from the steps and brushing off the back of his jeans. "If you're free..."

Buck raises his eyebrows.

"I'm free," Tommy says. "There's a bottle shop like 10 minutes away, if—maybe we could have a drink here? I don't know if you've already christened your new house or anything."

Buck grins. "Have I had a beer here? Yeah, I have. But—but that sounds nice. I can order a pizza if you're hungry. I'm starving."

"Yeah, that sounds nice." Tommy takes a few steps back to the truck. "I'll be back. Promise."

That little promise makes him ache. "No IPAs, please."

"I remember." Tommy watches him for a moment from the driver's side, then climbs into the truck and starts it up. Buck steps inside and shuts the door. He knows Tommy will be back.

[asce-of-hearts]

Can I request Yandere Shanks Alphabet? I love him and want your opinion on what kind of Yandere he would be

Yandere Alphabet: "Red Haired" Shanks

Contents: Yandere Alphabet for Shanks

more Shanks content here!

TAG LIST

WARNINGS: YANDERE, CHARACTER ANALYSIS, DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE AND DEATH, ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP IN THE CONTEXT OF THE ANALYSIS, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

How do they show their love and affection? 

Shanks is a very physical person! He loves to touch and grope and rub and everything that includes feeling you with his hand. He cannot keep his hand off you, not even if you asked. Very clingy, like and overgrown cat.

How intense would it get?

He can be pretty intense, and even when you ask he has a hard time respecting this particular limit. He just cannot spend too long without touching you if you are close to him. His hand has a mind of their own and he can't refuse or control it.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Shanks doesn't like to cause scenes so you're in luck. But he does like triumphant exits and dramatic entrances, so be aware that if he wants to mark territory that'll be his resource in doing so.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

How would they treat their darling once abducted? 

I think Shanks remains the same as when you were dating him. Nice enough. He's always a little bit of a jerk with everyone, a little more with his darling since they're forced to tolerate him. But overall due to the circumstances he would remain as nice to you as possible.

Would they mock them?

If they provoque him enough he will. Although its rare and wouldn't happen if his darling were showing too many sighs of distress.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Not really. Even if he's willing to keep his darling with him when they clearly don't desire so, he feels guilty when he takes a mile when given an inch. So he tries to keep himself courteous with you, always asking for consent for bigger things, or things that are other than kissing and hugging, maybe a little groping.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? 

I think Shanks doesn't have that much of a problem being vulnerable. He's open as anyone would be with their beloved, not outwardly exposing all your secrets but they do tend to loosen their tongue just a bit.

How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

They are one of his weak spots, but doesn't show it too much. Mostly because he keeps you hidden from the world, like any other sane and smart pirate, they hide their treasure.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

At the beginning he would be amused. Not too happy but not pissed. If it's recurrent and never changes then he will just become exasperated, and knock you out with his emperor haki before you even have the chance to make a run across the deck.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

 Is this a game to them?

No. Even if his personality is playful he takes his relationship seriously and makes sure to let his darling know they aren't either a fucktoy or a side gig. They're his darling and deserve to be acknowledged as such.

 How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Not a lot. Cat and mouse games become very tiring when overdone.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Shank's isn't cruel. At least he likes to think he isn't. So when his darling is met with indifference from his behalf it stings. He's all soft smiles and gentle whispers, so when his eyes are cold, his smile is gone? It's like having a knife pierce all the way through your stomach. And he will do it constantly if you disappoint.

Plant the seed and let it grow. The seed of despair, of the thought that the man who once loved you so passionately, so violently, might, in that very moment, be tired of you.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

King of pirates... queen of pirates. Yeah, along those lines.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Do they get jealous?

Shanks isn't the jealous insecure type, he's the jealous possessive type. Doesn't get jealous because he thinks he can be replaced, no, gets jealous because he thinks you're his. Completely, utterly, outwardly.

Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Often copes, most people he sees as "competition" aren't competition anyways. Knocked out cold with a single stare or... swiftly dealt with by his crew.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Very lovey dovey, very sappy, the sappiest man alive. Will talk to you in a sickly sweet voice and coo at you and look at you like you're the only one in the world. Extremely corny, extremely clingy, extremely everything.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Usual pirate courting. Expensive gifts, expensive liquor, expensive jewels. The whole package, if his charming presence and charisma and the fact that he can get along with practically everyone around him isn't enough to sway you, then he'll buy you. Metaphorically speaking of course.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

No, Shanks doesn't like pretending. You will like him for who he is, and if you don't... well, sucks to suck.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Doesn't do a lot of punishments. The most physical he'll get its a smack on the head if his darling really fucks up or puts themselves on a dangerous position. Otherwise... restraints, woohoo!

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Not that many, just don't speak to anyone else, and don't look at anyone else, and don't breathe near anyone else and don't exist within a five mile radius of anyone else. Kidding! Shanks will just put the condition over your pretty ass that you can't belong to anyone else. Which just means, not crossing any boundaries any normal, healthy, monogamous relationship wouldn't cross.

And don't leave his side if he's not fighting.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Very patient to the point it almost seems patronizing. Shanks is a very gentle man and a very gentle lover who has no issue with waiting for you to get used to him and his strange ways of keeping you safe, and his.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

He would mourn them a lot. Becomes a raging alcoholic for a while and isn't able to think about anything other than his darling. He would search for them earth, sea and sky. In the end he's forced to move on, but honors them in any way he can.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

 Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? 

Nah. It was done for their safety and also to keep him sane and without the constant little worm in his ear telling them you're either fucking another man or worse, getting killed while fucking another man.

Would they ever let their darling go?

No, would probably just leave them on a safe island under his control AT MOST. And even then it isn't likely to happen if he isn't actively involved in violent pirate business that could put his darling at risk.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

He's just... like that. Doesn't know how to explain it and doesn't care to do much introspection about it either. He's just obsessive, and possessive and has a tendency to hoard. Can you blame him?

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

I think he would feel guilty solely because he's so used to his darling being happy and outgoing with him. So he would try and do things to lift their mood, or make them feel more easy about the situation.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Shanks wouldn't kidnap you unless given a reason. Although a fair reason can appear out of nowhere, if the stars align and you are good, he will let you continue with your normal life forever and ever if that's what god allows and wants.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

He's too trusting after a while. If he leaves you on a island just... run away.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Not intentionally, and if so, never badly. Never enough to leave a mental scar.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

How much would they revere or worship their darling? 

He worships them a lot, he thinks his darling is an angelic being that the gods chose to have him watch over and care for. His darling is his lucky charm, his star, his moon and sun and everything. His darling is everything nice and everything perfect, nothing less than divine.

To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Any length he needs to go, any boundary he needs to cross, every threat he needs to deal with. Anything.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

I think if Shanks were to kidnap you it's because he knows you, and wants you to be close to him. He doesn't make any rash decisions, so if he took you away its because he's certain he needs you as much as he needs air to breathe. If Shanks was to take his darling with him, forever, it's because something forced him to. Whether it was unsafe circumstances, rivals in loving interests, or simply his darling thinking they have much more freedom than they actually do.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Not at all, Shanks is one of the nicest, most tender yanderes you'll ever come across.

the lack of Shanks gifs should be studied

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[lovelytsunoda]

let me go | jake seresin

summary: jake is twenty years old and about to ship off for his first assignment in the us navy. he thinks his girlfriend deserves better, but she's here to tell him just how wrong he is

pairing: jake seresin x childhood sweetheart! reader

warnings: angst, based on the song 'let me go' by christian kane, cliffhanger ending because i'm evil like that, spoiler: accidental pregnancy

author's note: i usually don't listen to country music but i caught a rerun of my favorite 'leverage' episode the other day and remembered this song existed, and the fic wrote itself from there

Jake Seresin's Ford Ranger was parked as close to the edge of the cliff that you could get without being a danger to yourself and others. The view over the grassy cliff and into the turquoise water of the bay around Stacey's Point was to die for, but neither was focused much on the water. The lighthouse stood proud behind them, occasionally swinging around the illuminate their bodies.

The pair had spent many a night at this point, perfect in the late spring and early fall, free of the tourists that flocked to the Point's picturesque shores. In mere weeks the town would be overrun, college boys tripping over each other for lifeguard jobs that would allow them to show off their muscles to any tourist girl in a ten mile radius.

They lay in the back of the truck, Jake's letterman jacket over her shoulders. She was too good for him, he thought to himself as he nuzzled into her neck, gently sucking a hickey. At her quiet moan, he felt a stabbing pain in his heart.

How could he possibly say goodbye? Walk away from the best thing that had ever happened to him? The mere thought made him sick to his stomach.

"Sugar, there's something I need to talk to you about."

She pulled away from him, pulling his ratty old football jacket tighter around her shoulders. "Talk to me, Seresin. What's going on?" She always had been good at reading him, understanding him the way that nobody else could.

Jake sighed, averting his eyes. "I got my marching orders today. They want me in Fort Worth by the end of the month."

There was silence for a long stretch, and then he felt her warm hand engulfing his. "We'll figure it out. Jake, when you first enlisted I told you I was in it for the long haul. That's not going to change."

Jake shook his head. Why couldn't she get it? "You've got another year of college to go, sweetheart. You have a future. You have parents that love you. What do I have? I have a chequing account with ninety-three dollars in it, and this old fucking truck."

YN's face fell. "That doesn't change anything. I've heard Texas is beautiful this time of year. We can go long distance until I'm finished school, and then I can meet you in Fort Worth. Jake, we can make this work."

"No we can't. Haven't you been listening? You've got it good here. Don't throw it away on me, you're just going to get hurt in the end."

Anything could happen to him while he was in the air. Injuries, dismemberment, death.

Whatever happened to him, he couldn't put her through that.

Red-faced and with his head in his hands, Jake got up from the back of the truck and started pacing along the dry grass.

"Why are you so eager to give up on me, Jake? Do you want to know what I think?" She shouted, trying to get him to look at her. "I think you're scared. You're not as strong ad you think you are, and I think you're scared to be in love. I think this is the realest relationship you've ever been in, and you're trying to sabotage it because you don't think you deserve to be happy."

She was right. She was right and they both knew it.

A lot of people had let Jake Seresin down in the long run. Teachers, friends, the adults of Stacey's Point. His own father had wasted no time in telling Jake that he wouldn't be smart enough to get to college on his own, and that he'd need a football scholarship to get there. Low and behold, Jake hadn't been good enough at football either. He'd seen the military as his only chance.

"You deserve better than me, YN. You deserve someone stable, someone who can always be there for you."

He'd thought it through, he kept telling himself. Breaking her heart now would be better for both of them in the long run.

"You're being ridiculous. I want you, Jake." She pleaded, one hand over her stomach through the thin linen of her pinstriped dress. Her eyes stung with unshed tears, and she could feel the heavy pressure in the back of her throat.

"God knows why." He snorted back a laugh. "I'll only break your heart down the road. You're better off without me."

"Don't fucking say that!" Her voice cracked. "Why can't you see that I love you?"

"I love you too, YN, but I'll never forgive myself if something happens to me while I'm out there, and you get left alone to pick up the pieces." Jake's voice was firm as he sank to his knees in the soggy grass, taking one of her hands in his. There was a wild desperation in his eyes, pleas in his voice. "So please, just let me let you go. It's better that way."

She shook her head, tears beginning to track down her cheeks. She couldn't do that, for more reasons than one "I can't, Jake."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm pregnant."