#How did you manage to send that all in one ask

[1989worshipper]

if ur like me and loved this so much you wanted a second part, i got chatgpt to write one!!!

@marinalor @capricp @imagineme2you @onlyangle1 @lokalblackie @imjustsomesoup @obsessedftshit @jupiter-rebel @seasonswinter @lovingyeet @gabsssssblog @doodlebug0105 @I-wonder-I

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Later that night, Five finds himself pacing in Elliot's dimly lit living room. The gnawing feeling in his chest has been building ever since he saw you. It’s not just the fact that you’ve been living here with Elliot, looking so at ease, or that you brushed him off without a second thought—it’s the way you didn’t even try to fix his tie.

It’s stupid, he knows it. But that one gesture was always yours. It was how you calmed him, how you managed to worm your way into his walls back at the Commission, and he hated how much he missed it.

Elliot is tinkering with his equipment at the kitchen counter, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in Five’s head. You’re perched on the arm of the couch, idly flipping through an old magazine. Five’s eyes keep darting toward you, and it’s driving him mad.

Finally, he breaks the silence. “So, that’s it? You’re just going to sit there and do nothing while the world falls apart?”

You don’t even glance up from the magazine. “You’re a big boy, Five. You’ve got this.”

The sarcasm in your tone sends a spike of irritation through him. “I thought you cared about the fate of humanity.”

“Oh, I do.” You close the magazine and set it on the table with a calmness that only stokes Five’s frustration. “But you made it pretty clear how you felt about me. So why would I waste my time tagging along just to annoy you?”

His mouth opens, but no words come out. He hadn’t expected you to throw his own words back at him, and it stings more than he wants to admit.

Before he can respond, Elliot pipes up. “So, uh, what’s the deal with you two? Exes? Rivals? Star-crossed lovers?”

You snort, and Five glares at Elliot. “None of your business,” he snaps.

Elliot raises his hands in surrender, muttering, “Touchy subject.”

You stand, brushing off your pants. “I’m heading to bed. Good luck with the apocalypse, Five.”

Five blinks as you retreat down the hall. He wants to follow, to say something—anything—but his pride keeps him rooted to the spot.

The next day, Five finds himself once again trying to rally everyone together. After a frustrating series of events involving his siblings, he returns to Elliot’s place to regroup. When he walks in, the sight of you laughing with Elliot feels like a punch to the gut. You’re leaning over the table, pointing out something on the Scrabble board, and Elliot is smiling like an idiot.

It’s ridiculous. He shouldn’t care. But he does.

“Am I interrupting?” he says flatly.

You glance up, your expression neutral. “Not at all. Did you manage to save the world yet?”

“Working on it,” he mutters, shrugging off his jacket. His eyes land on your hand, which is casually resting on Elliot’s shoulder. The frothy feeling in his stomach is back with a vengeance.

He walks over, standing directly in front of you. “Can I talk to you? Alone.”

You raise an eyebrow but follow him into the next room. He closes the door behind you and turns to face you, his tie once again deliberately crooked.

“What is it, Five?” you ask, crossing your arms and leaning against the wall.

“I need you to come with me,” he says, his voice quieter than usual.

You tilt your head, clearly unimpressed. “Why? So you can yell at me again? Remind me how I’m just a nuisance?”

He flinches at your words, guilt flickering in his expression. For a moment, he just stares at you, jaw tight. Then he exhales sharply, his shoulders sagging slightly. “No. That’s not why. I… I need to fix things. With you.”

Your brows furrow. “Fix things? What does that even mean?”

“It means I’m sorry,” he blurts, the words rushing out before he can stop them. His voice is uncharacteristically unsteady, but he presses on. “I was an ass to you back at the bowling alley. And every moment after. I was stressed, angry, and… I pushed you away because I thought that was easier than letting you in. Easier than admitting I needed you.”

You blink, clearly taken aback, but he doesn’t stop.

“I told myself I didn’t care,” he continues, pacing a little. “That your ridiculous nicknames and constant tie-fixing were just distractions. But I was wrong. Because when you stopped—when you weren’t there anymore—” He looks up at you, his green eyes sharp yet vulnerable. “I realized how much I relied on you. How much I… missed you.”

Your lips part slightly, but no words come out. Five takes a cautious step closer.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t even deserve it,” he admits, his voice dropping lower. “But I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to do this without you. So please… come back. Not for the mission or the apocalypse—just for me.”

For a moment, the room is silent, the weight of his words settling between you like something fragile. Your heart twists at the vulnerability he rarely, if ever, shows.

“Five…” you say softly, searching his face. “Do you really mean that? Or is this just another way to get me to follow orders?”

His lips press into a thin line, and he shakes his head. “This isn’t about orders. It’s about me being an idiot and finally realizing what I had before it was gone.”

You sigh, stepping forward until you’re inches away from him. His tie is crooked—deliberately so, you suspect. You raise an eyebrow at him, and his lips quirk into a faint smirk, as if daring you.

Your hands rise to fix it, the familiar gesture grounding you both. His breath hitches slightly, but he doesn’t move, watching you intently.

“There,” you say quietly, fingers lingering on the fabric. “Back to normal.”

“Not quite,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s a start.”

You hesitate, then take a step back, crossing your arms again. “I’ll come with you. But you’ve got to prove you actually care, Five. Actions, not just words.”

A flicker of relief flashes across his face, and he nods. “Fair enough.”

As he turns to leave the room, you call after him. “One more thing.”

He glances over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised.

“Don’t screw this up,” you warn, though there’s a hint of a smile tugging at your lips.

His smirk returns, more genuine this time. “I don’t plan to.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, there’s a glimmer of hope between you. And for Five, that’s more than enough to fight for.

I've got a sinking feeling - {Five Hargreeves x GN!Reader}

Synopsis: You are very flirty with Five, and he's tricked himself into believing he hates it. He tells you to stop. Then he learns the hard way how much he took you for granted when you meet someone else.

Note: Five requests would be very appreciated! Thank you to those who sent requests on my last one shot.

(Not Edited)

Warnings: Swearing

Word count: 1.5k

Extra Information: Viisi means Five in Finnish. Five and Y/n were partners in the commission. They look seventeen or eighteen instead of thirteen. This one-shot takes place on the last episode of season one, and the entirety of season two.

----

The Academy, Five's home, has just collapsed--courtesy of Vanya's new powers--and Five ordered his family to meet at Super Star Lanes bowling alley to come up with a new plan of action.

He grabs your wrist, blinking you with him. You're both in front of the bowling alley in a flash of blue.

Five takes a moment to pace around, not entering the building. The crisp, spring air bites at your earlobes as you hug your sides for warmth

"Hey, Viisi, can we go inside?" You look at him with a grimace and a pleading smile. He whips his head in your direction to glare at you, then strolls inside with a roll of his eyes. You follow in his stead.

The interior is heated, thankfully. Five informs the underpaid worker that his "parents" will be arriving shortly to pay for his bowling shoes. He takes a seat adjacent to Lane 6 and you sit next to him.

"So, how was the farewell with Delores? I know you two were close." You lean back in your seat, getting more comfortable while waiting for Five's siblings to arrive.

He does not look at you. His jaw ticks in annoyance, mistaking your genuine curiosity for mockery.

"Come onnn, I know you're stressed, but this is your sister. I'm sure she's reasonable enough not to end the world." You turn towards him, leaning your elbows on your thighs and admiring his pretty face.

"No, it's not that." He scoffs, looking at you with a sneer.

You notice that his tie is crooked so you reach out to fix it, like you often do. It's sort of your thing.

He smacks your hand away and you raise an eyebrow.

"You okay Viisi?" You rub your hand a little, surprised. Normally, he lets you fix his tie with no problem. Although, he would grumble about it a little.

"God- No. I'm not okay." He puts his hands in his hair, gripping it slightly with an exasperated expression. "And stop calling me that."

"What?" You breathe with a smile of disbelief. "What's going on? Did something happen- Did I do something?" You lean away from him a little to give him more space.

"Stop, just stop it with the touching and the nicknames. I'm sick of it!" He looks at you with cold eyes. This is very unusual of him.

You cock your head to the side, trying to understand. "Five, I thought- I thought that was our thing! Y'know, the friendly banter and-"

"I know you're desperate for some sort of relationship with me, but I'm here to tell you that it's not going to happen. We were only ever co-workers." He says through gritted teeth, avoiding your eyes. "I'm telling you to stop pursuing me." 'Pursuing' him?

Usually you would brush this sort of behavior off, ignore it. Tell yourself that it's only because he's stressed. He's always stressed! Thinking back, he was never all that nice to you. Even in your Commission days.

You'd tricked yourself into thinking that maybe he thought you were special, or that you were at least his friend. His confidant.

You look at him with eyes full of hurt, which Five has never seen from you. He almost feels something bubbling up his throat, but the feeling dissipates quickly. "Have I made myself clear?" He says evenly.

You only nod, turning away so he doesn't see the tears prick at your eyes.

Five's siblings come inside and you two don't speak to each other again.

A year and seven months later (for you, at least.)

1963, Dallas Texas:

Five anxiously pulls at his tie after narrowly escaping three armed Swedish men. He had just watched his siblings, along with you, blow up in yet another nuclear explosion. It's left him oddly shaken up about how he treated you back in 2019.

He's pacing down the alley-way between the Commerse and Knox when he notices a flash atop the roof. A large camera of some sort.

A brown haired man closes his window briskly. That's strange.

Five teleports inside, scaling up a flight of stairs with cat-like agility. When he knocks on a door, the one beside him answers, revealing a mouse-y looking man in his early thirties. He looks at him with big, expectant eyes.

"What do you want." His tone is dripping with suspicion.

"Hi, I'm selling encyclopedias for my youth group. I was curious if-" Five gets a door to the face. He huffs, blinking inside after him.

The man, Elliot, jumps, yelping in fear and pulling out a butter-knife from his drawer of kitchen utensils. "H-how did you do that?" He hesitates, astonished.

Five looks at him with amusement. "Don't really have time to explain."

Elliot runs a hand through his unkempt brown hair, gripping the butter-knife in a feeble attempt to protect himself. "You from the Pentagon? Huh?"

"Definitely not."

"CIA? FBI? KGB?"

Five eyes up the kitchen, noticing a coffee pot on the other side of the room. "Is that fresh?" He uses his powers again, blinking himself right in front of the coffee pot.

Elliot screams, whipping his head back and forth between the place Five just was and the place he appeared. "What..." He pants, eyes wide.

"Elliot? You okay?" Five hears a faraway voice from another room. A familiar voice. "Who's with you?" It asks.

You appear from around the corner, presumably from Elliot's bedroom, looking almost two years older.

Five furrows his eyebrows and so do you. He breathes out your name is what you almost register as relief. But, you know better then to think that.

"Oh, Five. You're back." You say casually, nodding and crossing your arms. Five sets the coffee down, unwillingly noticing how you didn't call him by his nickname.

"How long have you been here?" He walks towards you, looking at your slightly different features. You changed your hair, he observes. He says nothing about it.

"A year and a half, I believe." You tap your chin in thought. Elliot glances between you two with interest or surprise.

"You two know each-other?" He puts the butter-knife back onto the counter with a small clatter.

You nod, shrugging. "We were co-workers." You send Elliot a reassuring, genuine smile.

Co-workers. Five doesn't like how the word rolled off your tongue.

He licks his lips, looking away. "You live here?" He asks you, although it was a silly question considering its obvious answer.

You nod with tight lipped smile, approaching Elliot. You fix his hair with your fingers and flip the collar of his flannel back down. "Did he scare you? I told you he could be a bit much."

Elliot exhales a shaky laugh at your words and actions as Five begins to feel a hot, frothy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He changes the subject. "Are my siblings here too?"

Elliot answers for you, looking back towards the teen again. "The other six anomalys- The power surges." He begins to look excited at this new discovery. "They're your siblings?"

Five ticks his jaw, ignoring him. "So they're alive..." He begins to pace around. "I think I stranded them here. Now listen to me..."

"Elliot." You tell him his name.

"Whatever, alright? I got ten days to find them and save the world." He points to you and Elliot. "Now, I need your help to do that."

Elliot is just so happy to be involved, his three year long project finally achieving some major development. He scrambles to find a certain newspaper scrap from his desk drawer. "You know what? I, uh..." He fumbles with it, handing it to Five.

"I always thought that this, uh, mugshot looked like arrival number four."

"Diego." Five reads softly, then he twists around to face you. "You're coming with me." He states.

You hiss awkwardly through your teeth, avoiding his eyes. "Ohh, about that... Actually, Elliot and I were about to play Scrabble. It's Scrabble night."

Five narrows his eyes at you, barking your name. "The world is ending and you're just gonna play Scrabble with this homebody?"

Elliot looks at his dusty wooden floors with a look of dejection.

"Uh, yeah. That's exactly what I'm gonna do." You lean against the door-frame with a bored expression. "I thought you wanted me to stop following you around like a lost puppy."

Five feels strange. "You know what? I don't need this." He blinks away to search for Diego.

When Five returns from the strip club, after a failed attempt of recruiting both Luther and Diego, he decides to test something. His fingers reach for his tie, pulling at it and skewing it. Perfectly crooked.

You couldn't resist fixing his tie, he knew this.

So why didn't you? He finds himself uncharacteristically frustrated about your unresponsiveness.

As he demands that Elliot develop his Frankel Footage, his eyes trail to you occasionally, silently tempting you to straighten his tie.

Your eyes flicked to it once. However, you made no move to adjust it.

Five heaves a dramatic sigh, angrily fixes it, and leaves to look for Vanya.

He messed up before, he realizes. He feels like shit.

[brbsoulnomming]

Heart On Your Sleeve Part 6

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

written for steddiebigbang2024 and belatedly posting here!

-----

Steve keeps dropping his heart.

Somewhere buried deep inside him there's an edge of terror that he's going to damage it even worse - but it also makes a muffled schloop sound every time it hits the ground that is, objectively, the funniest sound he's heard all night.

Robin thinks so too, because she keeps giggling every time it happens - first these tiny little snorts, then somewhat hysterical giggles, then a full on bark of laughter, and then he's dropping it again because he's laughing, too, and she's so cute, how is he supposed to not be a little in love with her?

Dustin and Erica don't seem to find it that funny, though.

"Oh my God, Steve, put your heart in your chest!" Dustin hisses at him the next time they have to slow down to wait for him to scoop it back up.

The very idea sends a chill through him, and he makes a face at Dustin.

"No!" he retorts.

"No? Are you serious? It took me weeks to get you comfortable taking it out around me and now you want to wave it around? No, that's not what I - stop that," Dustin scolds him.

Which is rude, considering Dustin is the one who told him to wave it around in the first place.

But maybe he also has a point, because Steve's grip on his heart slips on a downward wave and this time he doesn't so much drop it as toss it, sending it skittering over the floor.

"Oops," Steve says.

Robin bursts into a sharp bray of laughter.

He loves her so much.

Dustin's gone chasing after his heart, and he flinches when the kid picks it up, expecting it to hurt, to feel wrong the way it had when -

But no.

It feels nice.

"Huh," Steve says, watching Dustin bring it back over.

"Why is it all wrapped up?" Erica asks, wrinkling her nose at it.

"So it doesn't explode," Steve replies, then giggles when Robin nods solemnly and mimes an explosion with her hands.

Dustin rolls his eyes, trying to shove it at him. "Put it away!"

Steve twists away. "Nooo," he protests. "I can't breathe."

Dustin's expression goes from frustrated to concerned so quickly it gives Steve whiplash. "Your ribs? Did they break something? Shit, Erica, can you-"

Erica's already at Steve's side, tugging up his uniform shirt and squinting at his ribs. "What am I supposed to be looking for?"

"Can't breathe with my heart inside," Steve clarifies, even though he's actually pretty sure he does have a broken rib or two. It doesn't hurt, so it's a way lower priority. "I hate it, it feels like it's trapped and hollow and alone."

Dustin and Erica look at each other. Steve doesn't think they look irritated, but he can't really tell.

"Steve," Dustin says softly. "Since when?"

"Since always," Steve replies.

There's silence in response, and he worries briefly that he's said the wrong thing. But then Dustin sighs and pops open his chest, nudging his own heart aside so he can drop Steve's next to it. He closes it up again before Steve's even managed to get a fully formed thought, let alone words, and -

His heart gives a little stutter, and it's weird to feel the emotion that causes it without feeling the corresponding pounding against his own chest.

Dustin apparently feels it, though, because he squints at Steve. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Steve returns.

“You felt something!” Dustin retorts.

“Wait, you can feel what I'm feeling?” Steve demands.

“Of course I can,” Dustin scoffs, like it should be obvious. “I have your heart, don't I?”

He looks over at Robin, to see if she knew that, too, but she's too busy snickering at something the light is doing in the fountain, and -

Oh.

Wow.

Okay, that's much better.

He feels so much better, and even when he's handed his heart again after he and Robin are deposited in the movie theater -

The feeling lingers.

—

In a too bright bathroom that smells like bleach and vomit, Robin holds out her hands for his heart.

“Let me see,” she insists, and Steve doesn't think twice about handing it over.

She might as well have just put her own heart in his hands, after what she just shared with him.

Still, he feels trepidation when she unwraps it, even more when she blanches at the sight of it. But -

“Hey,” Steve says, leaning in to look more closely at it. “It looks better.”

“Better?” she demands. “This is better?”

“I guess I should put it back in my chest if it makes it better,” he says reluctantly.

Robin frowns. “But it hasn't been in your chest. Just Dustin's.”

Wait.

That's right.

“I learned about this!” Steve snaps his fingers, trying to place it. “Science class. People survive things they shouldn't if they give away their hearts?”

Robin, bless her, either remembers it better or has figured out what he's trying to say. “Your heart heals better if someone's keeping it safe for you?”

There's barely a second before she's opening her own chest, taking out her heart and putting his in instead.

“Here,” she says, handing her heart to him almost carelessly. “Watch this for me.”

The moment it's settled in his chest, though, he can feel - how scared she is, how terrifying this all seems. The edges of it are still dulled by the drugs in both their systems, but it's there.

“I'm sorry,” he tells her quietly, guilt twisting from him to his heart in her chest.

“I'm not,” she replies, sharp and stubborn.

And the thing is -

She isn't.

—

The paramedics don't insist on keeping him.

Steve thinks they might, if they could hear his own heart, but it's Robin's heart beating strong and steady in his chest, so they assume that no matter how bad he looks, he must not be in any danger.

He doesn't know what his heart sounds like, but judging by the look on the guy checking over Robin - it's not good.

But she's physically unharmed, so they must assume it's more emotional damage than anything else. He and Robin are two halves, right now, but put them together and they make a somewhat stable whole.

God, he loves her.

She must pick up the echo of his love, because she looks up, meeting his gaze. Her smile is a little sad, and he feels a rush of affection so strong that it almost takes his breath away, even if it's a little bittersweet.

"It's not like that," he tells her, as soon as she and him can huddle together away from the paramedics.

She frowns at him, a clear prompt to continue.

"I don't know if I know how to love someone this much, if it's not like that," he admits. "But I'm learning. I'm going to learn."

For Robin, he'll learn how to love someone so much he doesn't want to know what life is like without them, in a way that isn't romantic at all.

—

Robin comes home with him that night, their hearts still in each other's chests.

Steve almost can't bear the thought of taking his back at this point, and what he can pick up from Robin tells him she feels the same way.

There's a blinking light on the answering machine, and when he presses play, he smiles a little at hearing Eddie's voice.

“Hey, Steve, it's, uh, Eddie. Know I haven't stopped by in a while, but I saw the news tonight about the mall, and - can you just let me know you're okay? Okay. Yeah, okay, bye.”

He sounds a little like he's trying not to panic, and Steve feels himself go soft and fond.

“...huh,” Robin says, clearly getting an echo of what he's feeling. “Steve?”

Steve shrugs, a little helpless. “I don't know,” he admits.

She considers for a moment. “Okay.”

“Okay?” he asks.

“You don't have to know,” she tells him.

“Okay,” he agrees.

He calls Eddie back while she showers, propped up against the bathroom door with the cordless phone in his hand.

“Hey,” Steve says when Eddie picks up. “It's Steve. Sorry, I know it's late.”

“No!” Eddie rushes to say. “No, it's okay, I was up. I saw - are you okay?”

“I've been better,” Steve admits. “There was some explosions, some rubble from the building collapsing. I've got cracked ribs and a concussion.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie mutters. “If you could stop getting beat up, it would really give my heart a break.”

Steve grins a little. “You worried about me? Thought it was my job to look out for you.”

He can't see him, but he's pretty sure Eddie's rolling his eyes. “Yeah, and who looks out for you, huh, asshole?”

Steve hums. “It's good to hear your voice. I missed you.”

Eddie's quiet for a moment. Then, “Do you want - do you need someone to come keep an eye on you, make sure you wake up every hour?”

He kind of wishes Eddie'd finished what he started to say, because yeah, he does want him, but that's not the question Eddie ended up asking.

“Robin's here,” Steve says. “She was caught in it, too, but she didn't get too injured. She's going to stay over tonight.”

There's a moment of silence.

“Right, of course,” Eddie mutters.

“Can you come over tomorrow?” Steve finds himself asking without really thinking about it. Eddie's never been over - he's technically never hung out with Eddie outside of school or work - but shit, he wants it. “I think the drugs'll be out of my system by then, so I won't be too annoying. You can meet Robin.”

“You do know I've met her, right?”

Steve makes a tsk noise. “You've met Robin from band, just like she's met Eddie from the lunch tables. But you don't really know each other, not like I-”

He cuts off, because he's not really sure he has the right to say that. Does he really know either of them like that?

Whatever. If he doesn't, he wants to.

“You do better as part of a trio, huh?” Eddie asks quietly.

“Well, yeah,” Steve agrees. “But this is different, this is better.”

Eddie snorts. “Sure, you're not the third wheel anymore.”

“It's not that,” Steve protests. It feels important for him to get this right, though he's not sure why. “I don’t care about being a third wheel, it never bothered me. But Tommy and Carol… there were always conditions, with their friendship. The older we got, the more there were. And I love Nancy and Jonathan-”

His heart spasms. He can't feel it, but he feels the emotions, and Robin's heartbeat in his own chest kicks up. He mutes the phone, for a moment, knocks on the bathroom door. “I’m okay!” he calls through it, feels a wave of relief coming from her, and lets himself feel simple, uncomplicated affection.

“But things are complicated with them,” he continues after he unmutes the phone. “I think they always will be.”

“And what, I'm uncomplicated?” Eddie asks, but he sounds more amused than anything else.

“You're something,” Steve agrees, not bothering to try not to sound warm and fond.

Eddie blows out a puff of air. “I have band practice tomorrow,” he says. “But I'll call you sometime later, okay?”

No, that doesn't sound okay.

“Is this one of those things where you're not really asking me if it's okay, you're just saying it so it sounds better?” Steve asks. “What would you do if I said it wasn't okay? If I said I really wanted you to come over?”

Eddie's quiet again. “Do you want me to come over?”

“Yes,” Steve replies immediately, because he's had it saved up since Eddie didn't finish asking him it in the first place.

If his heart were in his own chest, he's pretty sure it would be thumping in anticipation.

“Not tonight,” Eddie says finally. “But I do want to be friends with you, okay? I'll call you.”

He hangs up after that, and Steve stares at the phone until Robin comes out of the bathroom and finds him like that.

She doesn't have to ask what happened - probably because she felt what happened - she just sits next to him a while.

This is already written, and my plan is to post one part a day until it's all up here!

-----

Part 7

Taglist (always happy to add more to this if anyone wants): @fairytalesreality @lostonceandneverfound @wheneverfeasible @awkwardgravity1 @theintrovertedintrovert @thewickedkat @ravenfrog @scarlet-malfoy @missmagillicuddy @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @ollyxar @cringe-culture-is-dead-99 @thedragonsaunt @makewavesandwar @cryptid-system @ajeff855 @mae-liz @the-fantastical-asexual @jettestar @warlordess @persnicketysquares @samsoble @my-love-of-books @mydysfunctionallife @dreamercec @holyangelstudentuniverse @breealtair @shunna @xtraordinarally

[vicsy]

Max's phone has been on mute for a week now but Daniel's message comes through regardless. He singles it out through the endless blocks of notifications, patting his still damp hair with a fluffy towel.

hey did they show you the vid yet?

Max breaks into a smile, his whole face creasing when he catches his reflection in the mirror by the bathroom door. He taps on the screen with one finger, stringing together a response.

are you going to ask if you looked good in it? or what

Daniel doesn't make him wait. Max is tugging on a t-shirt when a bunch of middle finger emojis flood his screen. He picks up his phone off the bedside table and disconnects the charger cable. Another message from Daniel pops up.

ya little shit I knew 4th title will get to your head

It's Max's turn to take a page out of Daniel's book and abuse those middle finger emojis before he actually replies, dropping the towel on the floor next to the bed.

of course it was maybe 7/10 I'm being nice because you were very nice to me

Daniel reacts to his message with a broken heart emoji, which is pretty advanced for him. Max stands in the middle of his hotel room, phone in hand, watching the typing dots appear and disappear like his life depends on it.

you wound me Maxy I'm never not nice to you anyway wanted to send you something extra

It's a video. Not a long one. Max watches a file pop up and the download starts. The preview looks just like Daniel from the one he saw already — same outfits, same cap, his scruffy beard; same look on his face reserved for Max and Max only. It leaves him confused and rightfully exasperated. He types, watching a progression circle overlayed over the video fill out almost completely:

you just want me to have your part so I can tell you how beautiful you are?

A smile inadvertently tugs up the corner of his lips. Daniel won't see it but Max wishes he would. Not like wishing is ever enough.

Daniel sends him another message as the video finally loads.

just watch it, Maxy promise it's a banger

Max hits play.

It starts off the same. Daniel's curls are peeking from under the cap as he talks and Max's eyes linger. His voice scratches the parts of Max's brain that have been permanently altered over the years Daniel spent by his side. He's managed to learn most of Daniel's heartfelt speech by heart, memorise the minuscule changes of his expression; all the meaning hidden from naked eye but glaring into Max's soul though Daniel's gaze, warm and achingly familiar.

"You're the man," his recording says, his tone identical. Then Daniel licks his lips instead of following a script Max expects. His heart somersaults in his chest in anticipation. Daniel says, then, staring directly at him as if they're not worlds apart but sitting face to face: "And I love you."

Max blanches. On the screen, Daniel shakes his head and laughs, something evasively fond about the crow's feet around his eyes appearing more visible than ever.

"Yeah, no, they can't use this. Can't let them have this one now, can we? Imagine the scandal. I'll do another," Max's mind goes through a rapid meat grinder. The hand holding his phone become cold like he's just been dunked into an ice bath and plucked out just to be thrown on the scorching hot desert sand in Qatar. "This one is just for you, Max. Yeah, um."

He parks his ass on a chair. Barely manages not to miss it, pulled down by the gravity that exists outside of his control and the gravity of Daniel's words. Max's thumb hovers on the rewind button, but phone Daniel speaks up again, looking down. The video twitches from side to side like his hand was shaking as he was recording. Max doesn't miss it. Or maybe it's that his hands aren't steady when they're not clutching the steering wheel.

"Right. I'll be sending this later. So you get double the love," Daniel makes himself sound intentionally goofy, plays it down. Not his best attempt. Max's grip on the phone becomes crushing; Daniel grip on his heart is just as tight. Daniel removes his cap, puts it aside and passes fingers through the mess of his curls. To Max, it's like a kick to the ribs. When on-screen Daniel carries on, his voice grows thick. "Kinda wish I was there but. Sticks and stones, Max. I'm so fucking proud of you. And I, uh. I really mean it. Everything. So, yeah. I'll stop blabbering now," Daniel looks away from the camera for a moment. Blinks, so hard, like something's gotten into his eyes. There's static filtering through the speaker of Max's phone. Then Daniel looks back and Max can't fathom the glint in his eyes. He says, with a smile so impossibly tender, saluting Max with his cap: "Fourth in a row, huh? Go enjoy yourself for me, champ."

The video cuts off.

Max stares at the screen. He doesn't hit replay or lock his phone. But he wants to. Max taps on Daniel's name at the top instead, misses the button he needs and ends up opening his contact photo. It's an older one — Daniel is holding up three fingers, pulling a funny face. He's somewhere sunny and bright. Max keeps on staring, stunned and flayed open, until it all hits him with renewed force.

His frantic call to Daniel goes through without a hitch. He picks up on a second ring and Max jumps the start, just this once.

"Daniel–"

He stumbles. It's unnerving, as if he's stalled his car which hasn't happened in years. Max can't manage to get a word past the lump in his throat. And it's all futile because Daniel beats him to the finish line. And, for one, Max is glad it's him.

"No, wait. Wait, Max. Hold your horses. You come to Perth or, like, I can fly out to Monaco when the season's over," Daniel sucks in a hard breath. For as long as he doesn't speak, Max keeps his breathless silence, waiting. Daniel clears his throat, his voice soft and measured in Max's ear. He hangs on to Daniel's every word. "We're gonna do this the right way. I just– yeah, I just had to let you know. In case someone else was gonna convince you otherwise. Or whatever, ya know?"

Max makes a noise, something between a snicker and a sob. It punches out of him and it's a little embarrassing but who gives a shit when Daniel's words are stuck on a loop In Max's brain. Couldn't ever be anyone else to make his mind race on a track of its own.

"You should know," he starts. On the other side of the line, Daniel emits a similar noise to the one that clawed its way up Max's throat. Max screws his eyes shut, then opens them quickly, his vision fuzzy. He looks down at his feet, one sock missing. Presses his phone firmer to his ear, trying to bridge the insurmountable distance dividing him and Daniel, hopping over the chokehold of overarching emotions. "After all this years, you know. I don't listen to what other people say. It's a bit of shit timing, Daniel."

Daniel's chuckle is wobbly. So is Max. From the top of his head to the tip of his toes.

"Yeah, tough luck, I know," he says. He's not home, by the sound of it. Max has lost track of the timezones since they can't even share one, not anymore. Daniel sounds more like himself when he asks: "Still. I reckon you enjoyed the video?"

Max doesn't speak for a length. He thinks it over and over — and I love you and I love you and I love you. Thinks how much shit has burned down the line; how Daniel's dreams became flammable the exact moment Max's aspirations wrapped themselves in layers and layers of fireproof armour.

With a hand laid over his sternum where Daniel can't see, Max says, precariously balancing his tone:

"Yes, Daniel. You indeed looked very lovely on my screen."

It's worth tiptoeing around the subject. For all of Max's reticence, his joke lands where he wants it to. Daniel's laugh is akin to a sound of a dozen champagne bottles popping, fizzling, all of it pouring over Max's body and soaking him through.

"Thanks a bunch," in the aftermath, Daniel gets eerily quiet. Then he repeats, with airtight conviction: "I mean it."

And I love you, Max recalls. The words stick to his tongue, his breath hitching, twisting knots inside his chest. It doesn't feel fair. He rubs his knuckles into his eyes, phone smushed between his shoulder and cheek, until all Max sees is a patches of black interspersed with made up visions of the sun setting over a house with Daniel's name on it.

"I know," Max says, wispy. "But you shouldn't fly to Monaco."

"Uh, Max?" Daniel calls out to him, cautious. Max can imagine the exact look on his face. "Not following you."

"I'm going to come to Australia," Max barely avoids his voice breaking. A handful more days and Daniel will cease to be just a recording on his phone; a voice in his ear. A presence under his skin. "To you."

"Alright," Daniel echoes after a pause. "Whatever you want, Max. I'll stay put."

"Daniel, and," Max's heart pounds against his ribs, threatening to break his bones, but the enormity of raw feeling negates all the pain that comes with it. He swallows, blinks once and the clear cut picture of what future holds bleeds into his vision. Max keeps it a secret, stashes it into his pocket, and says to Daniel, with just a smidge of hesitancy: "When I get there. To you?"

"Yeah?"

"I'll mean it, too."

[loliwrites]

The One You Need | seven

🎶 Rest your head here, pull me closer I'll hold you tight while you let go, girl And I could love you, if you just let me Be the one you need🎶

pairing: neighbor!joel miller x f!reader  rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni  summary: when you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at an arm’s length, your neighbor Joel finds his way into your life. warnings/tags: au, neighbor joel, age gap [reader is late 20s/early 30s, Joel is late 40s], hyper-independent reader, absent fathers, minor discussion of baby poop, fluff, cuddling, SMUT, repeated verbal consent, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, hair pulling, hickeys, mild choking, pussy pronouns, terms of endearment [sweetheart, good girl, sweet girl], female reader, reader has hair long enough to pull, no physical description, protective!joel, soft!joel, dare i say ei!joel, no use of y/n. word count: 9.1k series masterlist | part six a/n: here’s the last chapter of this fic! it’s been a long time coming and i’ve appreciated each and every one of you for reading, commenting, and reblogging. it was great fun and i hope there’re more stories to tell in the future

It was worse than you imagined. You sister really was on her own despite having a very legally married husband. It only took a day to realize she hadn’t been exaggerating the situation at all. He left for work at five in the morning after not even attempting to help with the baby through the night. Your little nephew was going through a bout of sleep regression, and you witnessed how your sister was the one who went to soothe him when he seemed to wake and cry every hour. And when her husband came home twelve hours later in the evening, he made a beeline for the couch, sat down on it and suddenly had a list of demands.

Bring me a beer. When’s dinner? Did you vacuum today? Why is the washing machine ringing? You should switch those clothes out. And after dinner, he didn’t even bother taking his plate to the sink much less being a fully-functioning adult and cleaning it – or at the very least, rinsing it off.

Your sister’s day to day seemed to be a never ending circle of soothing the baby, changing the baby, feeding the baby, cleaning, cooking, cleaning again, and laundry. How she had managed for so long before hitting her breaking point and calling was beyond you. Now carrying some of the burden, you felt resentment growing for her husband – and for all men. Was this not how your own father had acted when your mom was raising you and your sister? Was he not just as absent-minded? And if these were the two marriages you had for reference, men seemed to take the cake for least helpful and useless humans on the face of the earth. All forty-nine percent of them.

It was a big reason (but not the only reason) as to why you were dodging Joel’s calls. Your first few days with your sister had grown so much anger toward men that the last thing you wanted to do was talk to one – even if he was putting on what you now believed to be an act about being attentive and caring. For the first week, he tried calling two or three times a day, and you let each of them go to voicemail. Your sister had asked who was calling, but you shrugged and insisted it was spam. Now that you’d been with her for two weeks, Joel called less and less. Still, he called once a day at varying times, hoping to catch you in a free moment. What he didn’t realize was you had no free moments as you took some of the weight off your sister’s shoulders.

You closed your laptop as your sister rounded the couch with two cups of coffee. On the carpet in front of you, your nephew was playing with a toy that seemed to only be able to play one song over and over again. With rather poor timing, your phone rang right as you were being handed coffee, and so it was impossible for you to hide the screen which very clearly read “Joel” and not “Spam Risk”. As you went to click the side button and send the call to voicemail, you caught a mischievous glance from your sister.

“Who’s Joel?”

��My neighbor,”

Your sister hid her smile by taking a sip from her coffee. She nodded slowly and let out an acknowledging hum. “He’s spam?”

You shot her a glare, “yes.”

She nodded again, then fixated her attention on her child. “How many times have you slept with spam?”

You took another sip of your coffee before reaching forward to set the mug on the table in front of you. “Not enough to warrant him being so persistent,”

“Must’ve left quite an impression. Why aren’t you answering?”

You pondered how far into this conversation you wanted to go. If you wanted to go into it at all. That childhood in the family home had really done a number on you. Shit, you were sure it had done a number on her, too. That the years of walking on eggshells and trying to figure out what type of mood mom and dad were in had done seemingly irreparable damage. That you couldn’t get yourself to let someone in. That in the times that you’d tried, it wasn’t enough. It ended in heartbreak – both blindsided and not.

And deciding none of that mattered because your sister was in her own sewer of shit, you decided to go with a simple answer. “I think he’s looking for something I can’t give him,”

If she’d been your best friend who you told everything to, she would’ve called bullshit. But it was just your sister, so she nodded in false understanding. You wondered if anyone would ever really know you.

With your morning coffee behind you, you started off on a laundry list of chores – which surprisingly enough, didn’t include actual laundry today. Surely today would blend into all the other days spent here. And would culminate in you growing so frustrated with your brother-in-law that you’d eventually just remove yourself from the room and disappear into the guest bedroom that at this point should’ve just had your name on it.

It was like clockwork. Completely infuriating that you could predict it so easily. He came home, ignored his child, and plopped his ass in his recliner, demanding a beer and asking why the living room hadn’t been vacuumed. You wanted to smash the glass bottle over his head and scream that there weren’t enough hours in the day to do everything. Not when there was an infant that needed attention and caring for. 

And because you knew you were bound to say something you’d regret, you excused yourself from the living room early and retreated to bed with your laptop and some shitty television show you could go numb to. Even though the intent was to turn off your brain, you couldn’t stop thinking about how long you were going to stay here. A couple more days? Weeks? A month or two? Would you ever go back to Texas?

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

The next morning, you woke up in a sheen of sweat. Hair stuck to your cheek and forehead. And you sat up with the sheets pooled around your waist. Fuck. Two weeks and the sex dream about Joel you expected to happen in the first couple days had finally made an appearance. It would’ve been nice to get laid. Of course. But not at the expense of stringing him along. He deserved someone who could open all the way up to him. And lean on him. And depend on him. And all you could do was depend on yourself. No one else could pick up any slack for you. You could do it the best.

The baby shrieked from the other room and you knew it was late enough in the morning that he was up for good and your brother-in-law had already left for work. It was safe for you to re-emerge into the wild. Blindly reaching for the nightstand, you fumbled around for your phone, realizing it wasn’t plugged into the charger. Thinking back through the blending of days, you couldn’t even remember the last time you’d had it.

Padding out and seeing your nephew playing with a rattle, you waved excitedly to him. All but running over, you bent over and gave him a big, loud kiss to the head. Then you turned to finally address your sister who was already brewing a pot of coffee.

“I gotta go to the store today,”

Your sister nodded and picked up a notepad where you could see the grocery list of things she’d already added to it. She was past the point of offering to go with you as the last time that happened, it was an utter nightmare. Toting a fussy infant around while trying to move efficiently through the market was counterintuitive. You just wanted to get in and get out, and you could do that best if you went by yourself.

“Do you know where my phone is?” You looked back over your shoulder at the coffee table with no luck.

“I put it by your keys near the front door. It fell between the couch cushions last night,”

You nodded once – the sneaky couch cushion. Always the likely culprit. “I’m gonna go shower, get a cup of coffee and watch an episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse with my little man,” you pointed at your nephew. At your attention he burst out into a toothless grin and a giggle. “And then I’ll head out for groceries,”

You were quickly learning that nothing ever went to plan with a baby. Everything was constantly derailed. The plan of shower, coffee, and TV was a nice one. But what you couldn’t account for was that halfway through the episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, your nephew was going to have a massive blowout that sent poop up to his shoulder blades. Gagging and choking to keep yourself from upchucking, you ran him to the bathroom while your sister drew the bath. Getting him undressed was a task as removing his onesie meant you got some of the poop in his hair. And bathing him while also dodging the poopy water he slapped in your direction could’ve qualified you for an olympic medal. You ran for the front door as quickly as you could once he was clean again and your sister had him back in a fresh onesie. 

You never thought you’d be so happy to go to the grocery store. Even if it ended up that it seemed like everyone and their mother was doing their shopping all at the same time. Didn’t anyone work anymore?

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Stubborn as all hell and not wanting to make more than one trip out to the car for groceries, you loaded the canvas bags on your shoulders and forearms until they were tugging at your skin and threatening to drop everything you’d just bought on the garage floor.

Struggling to lift your hand to turn the doorknob you got the slightest of grips on it and used your weight to push the door open, while using your foot as a wedge to keep it ajar for you to slither through and into the house. It was commonplace now to enter the house as quietly as possible. The baby was a notoriously light sleeper and you’d already been guilty of accidentally waking him more than once. So sneaking in, you knew you’d made the correct decision when you heard the classical lullabies coming from the nursery. He was out. And elsewhere in the house, you could hear the kitchen sink going. Good. Your sister was catching up on the pile of dirty dishes her husband had left behind.

You huffed and puffed, willing yourself to make it to the kitchen before you dropped the bags to the floor. It seemed as though you were going to make it. A quiet, self-congratulatory cheer was halfway out of your mouth when your breath caught in your throat at the threshold of the kitchen.

Hunched over the kitchen sink, rinsing off a handful of soapy silverware, was a large, strong back with broad shoulders. Far larger than your sister’s. Joel.

Frozen, taking a moment to comprehend that he was actually, truly there, you didn’t say a thing or make another sound. But it was like he could sense someone behind him. After setting the clean silverware down in the drying rack, he looked over his shoulder and spotted you.

“Hey,” he pressed a smile at you. That charming smile you’d gotten really used to seeing back home.

“What are you doing?”

“Well,” he chuckled and looked down at the sink, “I’m gonna finish washing these dishes.” He glanced back up at you, “then I’m throwing a load of towels into the laundry.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. Eyes flicked over him. He was just as you remembered. As if two weeks had been two years and you’d just come back from war. “Where’s my sister?”

“Sleepin’. She was tryin’ to get the little guy down for a nap but he was fussin’. I told her to get some rest,”

Tears started stinging the corners of your eyes, “you put the baby down for a nap?”

He nodded, almost looking confused at your confusion. Why wouldn’t he help with the baby? Little did he know you’d just spent the last couple weeks watching the baby’s father do absolutely nothing. So without saying anything else, you ran to him. Threw your arms over his shoulders and clutched onto him. There was a keen awareness that as you held onto him for dear life, he wrapped his arms around your hips and held you to him. Secure. Steady.

You sniffled and turned your face into the crook of his neck, “I miss you.”

Though he knew you couldn’t see his face, he still tried to hide a grin. Instead, he turned and pressed a kiss to the side of your head, “I miss you, too.” He let you go as you slowly backed away from him and wiped your fingers beneath your eyes to make sure he didn’t see any tears fall. But he stared into your eyes and smiled a little wider, helping you catch the one tear that had made it down your cheek. He swiped it away with his thumb, “you were screening my calls.”

“I know. I’m sorry, I–”

He pursed his lips and shook his head, “don’t apologize. I know.” Joel pressed another smile and cupped his hand over the back of your head to guide you closer so he could kiss your forehead. “I know I was asking a lot of you too soon. I know that,” he lowered his hands to yours and intertwined your fingers together. “I was scared you were going to run too far away from me. That I wouldn’t be able to wrangle you back. And I… pushed too hard. I know I did because I saw the same thing in your sister today. So afraid to ask for help. Like someone’s gonna think you’re a burden if you can’t do it all,”

You sniffled again and Joel raised his hand again to swipe another tear away before it could fall fully down your cheek. 

“You’re not a burden because despite your best efforts, I’m falling for you. Take the trash out to the bins for you. Snake the drain when your hair clogs it. Plant flowers in the winter and pick a bouquet for you in the spring. I want to do all those things, so all you gotta do is ask me. Ask me and I’ll do anything for you,”

Nodding, you leaned forward and pressed your forehead to Joel’s chest. He scritched his fingers through your hair. All you could do was sniffle again. Because how in the hell did you stumble upon a guy like him when… “My sister’s husband is just like our dad. And I feel bad for her,”

Joel took a deep breath. He didn’t want to be too hasty with a response to this one. Finally he settled on one. “Is that why you dodged me? Thought maybe I’d turn out to be like your dad and your sister’s husband?” He lowered his head closer to yours when you didn’t stir. You were just trying to protect yourself. He knew that, too. “You’re a good girl. You know that?”

You raised your head and looked up at him. Something you expected to hear more likely within the bedroom, had never sounded so innocent. Joel grinned a little wider and brushed his fingers through your hair to push it away from your face.

“A good girl. An understanding sister. And a helluva woman,”

On any other day, you would’ve blushed and hid your face from him at a comment like that. But today, you let his words rain over you. You wanted him to continue. To keep proving that he was leaps and bounds different from other men. But your nephew had other plans. 

And at the sound of his crying, your sister padded out of her room and spotted you and Joel in the kitchen. She blinked sleepily, beaming at the sight of you two before she carried on to tend to the baby. 

You stayed turned in her direction for a moment after she’d already left your scope of vision. But at the feeling of Joel’s hands squeezing your hips, you turned your attention back to him. “You stayin’ here, or…?”

He shook his head, “I’ve got a hotel ‘bout 10 minutes away.”

“Well, hurry up, then. I’ll throw the towels in the wash,”

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

There you were. Once again. Lounging in Joel Miller’s (hotel) bed. His khaki duffle bag was on the desk pushed up against the corner of the room. A small backpack of some items of yours sat beside it. And his phone was on the nightstand beside you. That struck you as the greenest of all green flags because the phone was in striking distance should you get curious, but Joel was not. He was in the bathroom, where now, the shower turned off. You had come in together, but despite your lips on his neck with teeth grazing over it, he insisted on showering first. To get the airport off of him.

The bathroom door creaked open and you looked in that direction, awaiting him to return to your line of vision. He did just a second later. Rounded the corner out of the bathroom and stood there at the foot of the bed – a white towel slung around his hips, haphazardly secured at the front. He held a smaller white towel and scrubbed it over his head to rid his hair of dripping water.

“Now that’s a sight I missed,” he trailed his eyes over your body, splayed out on the bed. He tossed the smaller of the towels onto the desk and crawled onto the bed. 

He was so close now. His position above you forced you to recline, laying down fully. Caged there between his hands on either side of your body, you lifted your head off the pillow and kissed him. Pleased that when you lowered your head back to the bed, he followed with you as to not break your kiss. His tongue pressed to your mouth in search of entry, and once you let it in, it was greeted by your own tongue. 

Joel hummed into your mouth and let his hips fall down to yours so he could move his hands to your face. Cupping either side of your head, he brushed his thumbs back and forth over your cheeks. After a couple weeks of living life more closely resembling a nun, mixed with this morning’s sex dream, you felt redeemed by a makeout session. Longing and yearning paired with frenzied lips. Teeth gently tugging at soft, plush skin. Tongue vying for attention and power. Wandering hands in search of the next bit of purchase. You bucked your hips upward, dragging your mound over the bulge between his legs. That white towel was doing as many wonders as his gray sweatpants did. It felt like you were in college again, on some sad twin mattress, dry-humping a co-ed that wasn’t going to give you any amount of pleasure. This time, you knew the man you were dry-humping would.

Joel’s lips tightened into a smile against yours and he pulled his hips back to tease you… to keep you from getting the friction you wanted. He snaked his hand between you and the pillow and grabbed a fistful of hair at the back of your head. With a slight yank, your head tilted backward, leaving your neck exposed, and you at his mercy.

“Joel,” you moaned, feeling the throbbing in your core intensify.

“Only good girls get to do that,” he smirked and pulled your hair a little harder. With your neck stretched out fully, he leaned forward and bit it, close to the collarbone. 

Instead of letting go, he sucked on it, and you absolutely knew what he was doing… Marking you. You’d wear the bruise for a few days, hiding it like a teenager who feared getting caught with it, but who would secretly ogle it in the mirror to remember the day it was given to you.

“I’m a good girl,” you pleaded, trying to lift your hips again. 

But now he moved his other hand down and gripped into your hips. Forced it back down to the bed. Too easily, you thought. “Are you? Last time I checked, good girls didn’t disappear for two weeks without a goodbye fuck,”

You pursed your lips together in a pout. That was fair. Had you not sprung your exit on him at the very last possible moment, knowing it wouldn’t amount to any sort of closure. For either of you. “I want to be one for you,”

Joel did his best to hide his smile. But you saw it crack through this domineering facade. “Yeah?”

You nodded with widened eyes and batting eyelashes. Tracing down his chest and stomach, your hands found their purchase on the top of the towel at his hips. You looked down at it for the quickest of moments. Just enough time to spot the outline of his cock beneath the fabric. Then you flicked your gaze back up to his eyes.

“Show me what kind of good girl you are,”

With a clear indication to proceed, you looked back down at his waist and curled your fingers beneath the fabric. Though it hadn’t budged from where he’d originally secured it, it became undone with very little force from you. The towel fell open and partially exposed him to you. Realizing your jaw had fallen slack, you closed it and swallowed while simultaneously pulling the towel to the side until he was completely free from it.

There was something oddly intimate about his complete nudity juxtaposed by your lack thereof. His member bobbed up and down on its own volition as he grew harder and you reached forward to wrap your fingers around him. Though with the way you were positioned together, you had to rotate your hand palm up, and twist it in a less than desirable way to be able to stroke him at all. 

His eyes drifted down to his waist and caught sight of your hand. Just having you touch him again was pleasurable enough. If he was being honest, his own hand hadn’t been cutting it in the past couple weeks. But he saw you struggle to keep pace at the awkward angle and he grabbed hold of your wrist and pulled it off of him. What he didn’t expect was that you’d cry out, and with a sense of near-panic, try to reach for his length again.

Realizing he’d asked you to show him, and then very quickly was keeping you from doing so like some sort of punishment, his heart twisted into a knot. “Sorry– sorry. Just let me…” He sat back on his heels and shifted his weight from one knee to the other, to reposition himself, straddling your body. 

He lifted your hand, palm facing up, and spit into it before he released your wrist, which you promptly brought back to his shaft. Now with a better angle, you were able to stroke him with far more ease. Your eyes stayed glued to it, focused on how your hand slid from the base all the way up to the head, where your fingers curled over it before sliding back down to the base.

“Lemme see your eyes,”

On command, you looked up at Joel. His jaw had fallen slack and he stared at you with something devilish in his eyes. You licked your lips and inhaled sharply, wishing you were a little less clothed at the moment. Or at the very least, not wearing an old college t-shirt. A little visual stimulation right now could’ve done him some good.

“You wanna suck my dick, sweetheart?”

It was a far more gentle proposal than you’d been expecting, but nonetheless, you nodded eagerly. You lifted your head to try to get at him as quickly as possible, but he shook his head and clicked his teeth until you succumbed and laid back down. This time when he peeled your hand off of him, he did so with a nod to assure you, you’d have it back in a moment.

“Take your shirt off for me?”

Thank God. You reached for the hem with haste and tore the thing off, flinging it over the side of the bed. Left in your bra – not the sexiest of them but still with a little padding for a slight push-up – you went to resume your place, but Joel caught you and helped you up a little further so you weren’t in a fully supine position. Now with your head propped up at a slight angle on the pillows, he brought his knees further up until he was straddled just below your shoulders. You flicked your eyes at him nervously. This was new.

“This alright?” He asked with his length in his hand, slowly stroking himself. There was a moment’s pause on your end, eyes flicking back and forth between him and his cock, before you nodded. He smiled to himself as you fixated on the way he played with his member. “Let me hear you say it,”

You looked back up at him. How could you have forgotten you were in the presence of the king of verbal consent? “This is good,”

“Good girl,” he smiled. With slow deliberation, he eased his hips forward and guided himself into your awaiting mouth. His free hand moved to the headboard, palm pressed flat against it to steady himself. He knew he’d grow weak feeling your mouth working him over.

And he was right. The moment your lips closed around the head of his cock, he let out a labored groan. His eyes fluttered shut and he let his chest deflate for what seemed like the first time in a long time. Now with both of his hands against the headboard, you held onto the base of his cock gently while you sucked and licked at the head; pulling more and more precum from him with each lick to the underside.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he looked down at caught you staring at him. 

You blushed and inhaled through your nose. Allowing your eyes to drift shut, you worked your mouth down halfway down his length, then pulled back so as to not choke on him. With a slow rhythm, you did that over. And over. And over again. Joel wasn’t touching you. Wasn’t saying anything particularly dirty to you. Yet you felt yourself drip in your underwear and you squeezed your thighs together. 

He must’ve heard the fabric of your jeans rustle because a chuckle floated out of his throat and your eyes snapped open. He stared down at you, head cocked to the side, and had a hard time deciding if he wanted to look at your eyes or the way his shaft moved in and out of your mouth. You kept in a staring match until your hands drifted around his legs and urged him forward even more. At that, Joel bowed his head and was decidedly focused on your eyes.

He obeyed your urging, but with a watchful gaze, he went even further than you expected him to. The head of his cock pressed at the back of your throat. Your eyes filled with tears. One even escaped the corner of your eye and rolled down to your temple. Fingers gripped tighter to the back of his thighs as he pushed the limit.

“Look at you gettin’ all of me in your mouth,” he’d grinned breathlessly, all but shoving the entirety of his length past your lips. 

You’d managed to hold your breath while he explored the far ends of the boundary, but with the next breath you tried to take, you choked and sputtered around his length. Joel pulled out of your mouth. Strands of saliva kept you connected for just a moment before they broke as he stroked himself again.

He bent over, nearly folding himself in half to lower his face to yours. Despite your heavy breathing, his free hand cupped around your neck and squeezed the sides of it gently. And he kissed you with lust and fire. No consideration or care for the fact that you’d just had him in his mouth. He lapped at your lips and tongue, drinking you up until you’d regained your breath enough for his liking. 

Joel unfolded himself and placed both hands against the headboard again. Eyes glued to you, he watched as you dove forward for his length, and took it in your mouth again. Reinvigorated, you sloppily dragged your lips over him before pulling back just enough to move your mouth down to his balls.

“F’you keep doing that, I’m gonna come,” he muttered through his teeth trying not to paint your face with his spend then and there.

But when his comment was met with a challenging hum from you, he lowered one hand from the headboard and reached behind him, stretching as much as he could while not disturbing what you were doing. His fingers hit the waistband of your jeans and he kept going. He pushed them beneath the tight fabric, and then pressed into your skin to get his fingertips beneath your underwear.

Your legs flinched together when he passed over your clit. You brought a hand up to his shaft for the twofold purpose of pleasuring him and keeping it out of the way while you paid his balls some attention. But with his middle finger circling your button, your mouth dropped open, “please, Joel.”

His response came to you in a soft tone. “I need to taste this pussy, sweet girl. Make me come and I’ll eat you out,”

The lightness of it – despite his words being wonderfully and horribly sexual – caught you off guard to the point that your eyes found his and you licked up over his delicate anatomy. Carefully, you sucked one of his balls into your mouth and rolled your tongue over it. The more you continued, the more you felt Joel unable to keep pace. His fingers stopped and started randomly. Brain slowly losing the ability to function as the pleasure swept through. You switched over to his other testicle and gave it the same gentle treatment when his finger stopped for good this time. He slid his hand out of your pants and curled it around the front half of his length, cautious to not accidentally bump into your face.

“M’gonna come,” he mumbled frantically, giving himself a few short tugs. “Where do you want it?”

You grinned and pulled away from his balls, “anywhere.”

“Where,” he all but demanded. His cheeks were flushed as he besought you for a clear answer.

“Mouth,” you cupped your hands around his thighs again. “My mouth,”

A guttural moan came from Joel and he angled his member at your open mouth with not a second to spare. He spilled onto your tongue with another groan. The muscles in his shoulders and arms tensed up until his orgasm was over. He released his shaft and it smacked down to your tongue. You picked up where he left off and wrapped your lips around him. Despite being wary of continuing gently, his body shuddered when you gave a final suck to him.

“Wait, wait…” he eased his shaft out of your mouth and hand and began to work himself backward away from your head.

Again, you’d only just swallowed when he bent over again and kissed you with an open mouth. He was, undoubtedly, the most surprising man you’d ever come across. Soon though, his lips left yours and he made his way down to your neck, where you stretched out to give him room to do so. His lips stayed by your ear, and ever so stealthily, he settled himself between your legs. Easing your thighs apart so he could drop a knee between them.

Joel kissed and licked your neck for a moment before he nipped on your earlobe, “you’re wearin’ too many clothes.” He smiled at your reaction when you nuzzled your face into his shoulder. “How about we take this bra off?” 

His hand snaked around to your back and paused at the clasp until he heard you give him the go ahead. “Yes,”

Within seconds, he pulled away to part your chests only as far as he needed to in order to take the garment off you and toss it to the floor. He returned his lips to your ear with another quiet demand, “arms above your head.” Pride flooding him when you obeyed yet again. He crossed your wrists over one another and held them with one of his massive hands. Joel kept his eyes locked on yours when he trailed his free hand down between your bodies and set his fingertips on the button of your pants. “You gonna let me eat you out?”

You nodded enthusiastically and responded all at the same time, “yes. Please, God, yes,”

Joel undid the button and zipper on your jeans. With your help of lifting your lower half off the bed, he managed to shove your pants down to your calves. “She still taste as good as I remember?”

You giggled, playfully fighting against his grip on your wrists. Testing the waters. “It’s been two weeks, not two months,”

“Two weeks too long when I want it everyday,” he released your hands and kissed his way down your chest, between your breasts, down to your belly button, until he met the waistband of your underwear. He tugged on your jeans and freed your legs from them completely. Spreading your legs wider, he lowered himself between them and draped one of your legs over his shoulder. He kissed your inner thigh while his fingers toyed with the lace at the crease of your leg, “can I?”

“Joel, just do it, pl–” your words died in your throat when Joel pulled your underwear to the side and latched his mouth on your clit. “Please,” you moaned and immediately buried your fingers in his hair. Both of your hands cradled the back of his head, fighting the urge to push it down harder on you. 

He opened and closed his mouth around you, craning his head lower to lap at your dripping entrance. “Goddamn. Love that you get this wet just from sucking my cock,”

Just from the way your underwear had stuck to you, you were sure you were a mess. Slicked up and ready for Joel. He wouldn’t need to do too much for you here. Shit, the sex dream itself had nearly gotten you there. Yet he kept working. Licking from your entrance, all the way up to your clit. 

You shivered and tugged on his hair, silently begging him not to stop. The noises coming from him – the hums and the moans – were a pretty good sign that he wasn’t going to. He lifted your leg off his shoulder and pushed it back toward your chest. It raised the angle he was able to get at you and he used that advantage to close his lips around your clit again. It made your calf spasm in his hand which he remedied by massaging his fingers into the muscle. And most of all, you knew he was making more of a mess of you than you’d already been before. With each lick and swipe of his tongue, a wave of arousal flowed out of you. He even brought a hand up to your entrance and smeared your slick all over as if proving the point even further. 

Joel eased his middle finger into you with his palm facing upward. Your body fought him but he fought back by biting your inner thigh, and a shriek left your throat at the sharp feeling.

You clutched at his hair tighter, tugging on it with fervor, “so good, Joel. S’good,”

He pulled his finger out of you, much to your dismay. But very quickly pushed it back inside. This time with the addition of his ring finger. You let out a coo… a hum… a plea for him to get you there. To just tip you a little further, off the edge, foregoing the wherewithal to be embarrassed by how quickly he could.

You came without warning. You’d thought you had a minute left but there you were coming undone, moaning and trembling beneath him. In fact, the first coherent words out of your mouth were exclamations of apology. You brought a hand up over your mouth, trying to ground yourself as your body still jerked to each of Joel’s movements. Sorry’s passed your lips in a steady stream.

Joel didn’t answer right away. Just removed his fingers from your core and kept kissing and licking your swollen cunt until your body stopped spasming. He kissed up your hip, to your navel, and continued past it. It wasn’t until he pressed his lips to the curve of your breast that he finally lifted his head. He stared at your lips and wiped his hand over his beard to clean away some of your release before he leaned back in and kissed you.

You accepted it wholeheartedly, trying to pay him back for your lack of warning before you came. He’d been aware enough to warn you of his. “I meant to warn you, I–”

Joel pulled away from you and shook his head, “don’t you fucking dare apologize for coming.” He lowered his weight to you and cupped one of your breasts in his hand. He kneaded the supple flesh and lifted his other hand to the side of your head. Lips pecked your jawline until he closed in on your ear. “Want me to fuck you?” 

He whispered so softly you almost didn’t hear it. Had you not been so tuned into him, you might’ve missed it. But you nodded eagerly, arching your body off the bed to grind up against him.

His lips stretched into a smile against your jaw. “Take your underwear off,” he paused, waiting as you did so. He only lifted himself far enough up for you to complete the job. Then, brimming with pride, he whispered to you again, “put me inside you.”

“Joel,” you whined, hoping he’d take control of the situation.

But he was intent on matching your stubbornness. “If you want it, take it,” he grinned again against your ear. 

This time there wasn’t hesitation on your end. You reached between your bodies and wrapped your fingers around his girth. He nodded softly and you brought him between your spread legs. Careful, deliberate actions until you pushed him past your tight ring of muscle and he sunk inside you.

“Attagirl,” he lifted his head and kissed you tenderly.

You’d expected frantic, hurried sex. The type of starved lovers after weeks away. Something a little more similar to the oral sex you’d both just given and received. But instead of quick thrusts that sent your head into the headboard, Joel let himself rest inside you for an extra minute. He kissed your lips, and cheek, and jaw, before he made his way back up to your lips. Just content for the time being to relish in the feeling of him throbbing inside you, and your body responding to it with tugging clenches.

“Joel,” you whined again.

This time he cupped both hands around your cheeks and hushed you. “Let me take my time with you,”

“I need you to move though. Fuck me. Hard. And now.”

He smiled a little wider. Before he gave you a verbal answer, he rocked his hips backward and then slowly thrust back into you. “Be patient. Let me take care of you,”

It wasn’t lost on you that he was saying that a lot lately. Let me take care of you. If this… mind-blowing sex and earth-shattering orgasms were included in the “taking care of you”, you were inclined to let him. So you bit your tongue and set your hands on his ribs, content to let him take care of you however he saw fit. You doubted you’d have any objections if it was going to end in another orgasm.

Joel’s languid thrusts pierced into you in steady repetition. And though they weren’t fast or rough, they were just as deep and powerful as you remembered. Maybe even more so as the slowness allowed for his eyes to remain on your face; catching every miniscule change in your expression. From the breathless smile that spread across your face when his cock passed over your gspot, to the wince that replaced it when the head of his length pressed against your cervix. 

He kissed you again, this one a tender thing that matched the care and precision of his thrusts inside you. Each forward motion of himself into your anatomy fanned the flame inside you. A heat rose in your chest and migrated up your neck and to your cheeks. You saw a similar flush in Joel’s own chest and cheeks. It gave you great pleasure to know you could satisfy him as much as he could satisfy you.

You clutched at his sides a little tighter when a particularly deep thrust made the edges of your vision blur. “Want you to come inside me,”

“Yeah?” He nodded, reassuring, “I will.”

In times past, even if the sex wasn’t hurried, it wasn’t necessarily an event. Not like this. Not like Joel was content to fuck up into you for hours if that’s what it took. It surely wasn’t going to. But not once did his pace quicken or falter. Not when you purposefully squeezed your muscles around him to spit him on. Not when you lifted your hips off the bed to meet him halfway. In fact, he just held you down. Pinned a hand to your waist and forced you flush to the bed so he could keep his desired speed. 

But in the effort of once again meeting each other at stubbornness, you decided to take matters into your own hand. You pressed against his chest with force, not surprised when he immediately leaned away from you. He didn’t go as far as to pull out, but he did stare down at you, utterly confused. Just after your last request, he wasn’t expecting you to be stopping him.

“I wanna be on top,” you pressed on his shoulder thinking he’d roll over just as easily.

But Joel just laughed at you and shook his head. He pulled out to the tip and then rolled his hips forward back into you. However, you pushed on his chest again, more insistent this time. Joel caught one of your wrists in his hand and pinned it down by your head.

“Why not?”

“‘Cause you’re gonna go too fast and we’re havin’ a moment,”

You glared playfully at him. If he wasn’t going to let you do it off the bat, you knew you could play harder. Lifting your head off the pillow, you nipped at his jaw, making your slow way to his neck, where you dragged your tongue over his jugular. “I want to ride you… pretty please?” You suckled on his neck and let out an airy whimper, “wanna feel you all the way up in my stomach. Feel you…”

Joel cut you off with a well-placed arm around your back and he carefully flipped you both over without slipping out of you. Victorious, you wiggled your hips, drilling him into you to the hilt.

“Don’t get too cocky. I would’ve come if you said rearrange your guts, so really I did you a favor,”

You rolled your eyes and set your hands on his chest, using the leverage to roll your hips back and forth along his length. You’d play by his rules. You’d go slow and let the moment continue. You wouldn’t try to ride him within an inch of his life just for the heck of it. Shit, you weren’t far off of your next orgasm when he was on top of you. Now you knew your time on top of him was finite.

He kept his hands on your hips as if he wasn’t sure you’d comply with him. Like he’d have to use every remaining ounce of strength to keep you moving how he wanted you to. But on top of him, able to fully harness the friction against your clit you’d been searching for, it wasn’t hard to want to comply. You could get everything your wanted and more. So as your movements kept him deep, and your anatomy clung and pulled at him, you neared another orgasm with haste.

You thought he could feel it coming. You were sure he could. The grin on his face was either because he knew your climax was imminent, or because his was. Either way, it seemed like a good time to you. Your head bowed forward, chin dropping to your chest, and your body stiffened. Everything stopped for you as you tried to fight it off. To make it last a little while longer. But the ever-present grip Joel had on your hips tightened. Fingers squeezed your supple flesh. And he thrust up into you with power you weren’t sure he’d be able to get at this angle.

The orgasm crashed into you and you were only half-aware of the filth coming out of Joel’s mouth. The words, despite being completely debauched, seemed almost normal now. The only thing that caught you was how his expression twisted when you clenched down on him. How his fingers flexed around your hip. And how he then pushed you down on him, making it impossible for you to wriggle away as he came inside you. 

You collapsed down against his chest, breathing in as much fresh air as you could get into his lungs. A thin sheen of sweat covered his neck and chest but you couldn’t have cared any less to lay your cheek against it. As your breathing began to even out, you felt one of Joel’s hands wrap around your backside and reach for his member. He eased himself out of you, humming to match the groan you let out. 

It wasn’t the time to think about it, but you couldn’t get your mind off the thought of how long you’d get to keep Joel out here. If he’d stay with you a few days. Maybe a week. How were you ever going to leave your sister in a lurch, without help, if you returned back home. Home to Texas.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Despite having showered before sex, both you and Joel showered again after it. Bound to go back to your sister’s. But you were already back in bed waiting for him, while Joel rustled through his duffle bag in search of a clean shirt and pair of jeans. He’d already asked you in the shower what that funny look on your face was all about. But you’d told him it was nothing, and though he didn’t particularly like that answer, he didn’t press it at the time.

Now as he glanced over at you on the bed and saw the same look on your face, he figured he’d try again. “Spooked?”

You flicked your eyes over at him, “no. Just thinking about how I’m gonna have to leave her here with him.”

Joel nodded and slid a navy blue shirt over his head. “You can stay here as long as you need,” he tilted his head to the side. “I mean, you don’t have to rush home for me. I’m not goin’ anywhere,”

You nodded as he neared with a pair of jeans in his hands. He sat on the edge of the bed beside you and leaned in for a quick kiss. It was there and gone in a flash. Replaced by the feeling of his hand on your thigh.

“I know this is a weird thing to bring up but I feel like we should talk about it before we get too deep into this thing and it gets brutal or mes–”

“I hate this preface,” you mumbled, searching his face for any indication of what this apparently uncomfortable conversation was going to be.

“Do you want kids?” He caught your widening eyes and gripped into your thigh a little tighter as if to keep you both grounded in reality. “I can’t give you any, ‘cause you know… snipped. And before you say it’s reversible or anything, I don’t want to get it reversed.”

“I wasn’t going to say it’s reversible,” you pressed a smile.

“Well…” he took a breath. “I just don’t want to get too far into this if the answer is yes because then I won’t be able to give you what you want. And you deserve that… if you want it,”

“I don’t know. I haven’t met a man that I could see myself having kids with,”

“But what if that’s me?”

“It won’t be.” Off his shocked expression, you reached forward too and set your own hand on his leg, “I mean, if seeing myself with you means no kids, then that’s not even an option to consider if I see myself with you. It’s like you being young… it’s not an option,”

Joel smirked and raised his hands to your ribs to tickle you, “that was kinda mean.”

You nudged his hands away from you and leaned in instead, resting yourself against his chest. “Right now, at this moment, I’d rather have you and nothing than a sub-par husband and a kid,”

“I didn’t say nothin’ about getting married. The vasectomy got nothin’ to do with that,”

“We’ll see how it goes. No pressure. Y’know ‘cause in fifteen years you might be a real pain in my ass,” you winked.

He tackled you down to the bed and smothered your neck and face with endless kisses until you were laughing hysterically.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

The following days passed slowly. For the first time in a long time, you were happy about that. Time wasn’t flying by before your very eyes. You had time to relish Joel. To be continually stunned by him every time he stepped up to do something for your nephew that your sister’s husband should’ve been doing. There was time to lounge and talk. To play around. To be told by an older woman in the grocery store that “you and your husband have made the cutest little boy”.

And when his flight home came a few days later, you drove him to the airport and clutched at his sweater with every ounce of strength you had. Told him you didn’t know when you’d be home, but it would be soon. And he didn’t ask you to clarify. Didn’t ask if that meant in a couple days, a week, or a month. Just cupped his hands over your cheeks and nodded. Told you it was okay. Trusted that you’d come home when you were ready to.

That only took about a week. One more week of watching your brother-in-law sit on his ass while you helped raise his child. You broke the news to your sister and she did her best to hide her fear and pain. You did your best to hide yours, too. On the way out, you also left her with some words of encouragement. To not let him sit on his ass. To force him to take an active role. And if he couldn’t, then to get the fuck out. Though she nodded and said she would, you knew she’d always stick around and be left unsatisfied.

Joel had told you to let him know when you were coming home. That he’d pick you up from the airport. But you decided to let him off the hook. To handle your own business and call an Uber to scoop you up.

He was in your front yard, mowing the lawn when you showed up. He let the gas engine rumble to a stop when the car pulled up. Stood, watching you, with his hands on his hips as you rounded to the trunk of your car and lifted out your suitcase though the driver came around to help you. You murmured an “I got it” to him and Joel found it endearing. How you said that to him on the first day you moved into the neighborhood and put up such a fight at his insistence to help. What he’d learn later, and what this sad Uber driver would never get the chance to learn, is that you were all bark and no bite.

You rolled your suitcase over the curb and let it fall to the half-cut grass. Got up in front of Joel and smirked at him, “you’re mowing my lawn?”

He smiled back. Much more pleasant. “Yeah. It was so long, it was bringing down my property value. You’re a bad neighbor,”

“Yeah,” you shifted your gaze to the grass momentarily. “Maybe I’ll be a better girlfriend,”

A red flush crept up over Joel’s cheeks. He nodded as if he was sure of it. “Probably not,”

Your jaw dropped and you slapped his chest playfully.

Joel caught your hands and held them against him. He leaned in for a kiss. Something rather chaste, but he inhaled to take you in before he stood back up. With a nod in the direction of his house, he smiled again, “go on to the house. I got a fresh pot of coffee goin’.”

“I want to shower,”

“Shower there. I got clothes,”

You pointed at your suitcase, “I have laundry.”

“I’ll bring it in. Go on.” He nodded again in the direction of his home, “I’ll meet you there after I finish up here,”

You relented and made off for his home after one more kiss. Before you’d even fully crossed the street, you heard his old push mower roar back to life. With his front door unlocked, you stepped inside and came face to face with a vase full of fresh cut flowers on the table in the entryway. Like he’d been expecting you the whole time.

[talesofallure]

Dorothy Delgado's Divine Devices. The letters were printed in bold black writing over the shop door. From the street you'd think this pop-up shop was nothing much out of the ordinary, and in truth you'd be right.

Some fifteen years ago, when Dorothy was still a girl who believed in such things as the Tooth Fairy and the Baba-Da-Gan, she'd come across a small shed down by the brook behind her mother's house.

Her mother had told tales of imp-like creatures that lived in small sheds similar to this, tin can contraptions with leaky roofs and blacked-out windows, covered in rust and mould.

There were markings on the door of the shed, ritualistic symbols (Dorothy had etched these same symbols into the frame of her pop-up shop door, it was all about appearances you see). Despite her mother's warnings -- about sheds and imps and strangers by the brook -- Dorothy had been curious, too curious not to take a peak inside. It was ironic really, that same curiosity is what now sent customers flocking to her store.

"You're shorter than I expected," a boy half her height, wearing a bright yellow hat and sporting a beard the same colour that ran to his knees -- odd for a boy to sport a beard that long -- was sat on stool playing with his tail.

"You were expecting me?" Dorothy asked despite herself, forgetting yet more of her mother's wisdom.

There's trouble in asking questions.

The boy had smiled an awful sort of smile, all teeth and no lips. There was a flash of hunger in his eyes. They're like stones. Dorothy had thought to herself. Grey and hard, and I'll bet they don't bleed.

That was all it took, one question followed by another and the boy had managed to trap Dorothy in a sort of spiraling conversation that felt so much like a fever dream she'd have sworn it never happened. That was, had it not been for the curse.

"Little girls lie, don't they?" the boy had asked.

"Nuh-uh. Not this one." Dorothy had protested, just a little too much.

Of course little girls lie, but they get in trouble for lying, so Dorothy certainly wasn't going to admit to such a sin. Not to this stranger in a tin-can. What if her mother found out?

Back in the present day Dorothy sighed. That boy, that day, they held home in the very fore-front of her mind, a memory played forever on repeat, just like that Christmas special her mother had loved, the one about the boy who never did as he was told.

She gave a short laugh, unlocking the door to her store, the bell above her head ringing as she stepped inside. Her mother would have loved this, the veritable mountain of antiques displayed on table-tops, and on shelves, and hanging from the ceiling, some larger oddities standing of their own right on the wood panel flooring.

But her mother was no longer of this world. A tragic accident that could have been prevented if not for this Gods forsaken curse.

To tell the truth was to be spat at in the street, no matter how hard she tried, no matter how hard she pleaded, no one would either again believe the words of Dorothy Delgado. But to lie, to lie was to speak gospel that no ears could ever deny -- little girls don't lie, nuh-uh, not this one.

The only problem was the inevitable visit some days later when Dorothy's divine device failed to live up to expectations.

She could handle the authorities, all she had to do was lie and they'd bid her a good day, apologising for having wasted her time. But the customers, oh dear lord the customers. You could lie and send them packing, but word would spread, yet more words would be written, scathing reviews left online making Dorothy Delgado's Divine Device's the one place in town you gave a very wide birth.

Oh how she missed the days before the world and her wife carried computer's in their pockets.

So she'd move along, find another town, come up with some other clever name under which to sell her fabled goods. And ever on the cycle would repeat.

If she'd had the choice, she might just have gone back home, to her mother's that is, the little cottage by the brook. But the boy had taken that took, hadn't he.

Ring.

The door came open and with it entered Dorothy's first customer of the day.

"Interesting place you've got here," the man offered.

There it is. Dorothy gave a short but pleasant smile, just enough to invite the man in further, but not so friendly as to lose all sense of mystery. It was an art. One she'd mastered over the years, she'd have you know.

The man picked up a feather pen and pot of ink, squinting at the tag. There was no price, just words and a promise, "this is a joke, right? You don't really expect me to believe..."

"That this pen can make you a world famous novelist?" Dorothy put a hand on the man's shoulder, and whispered in his ear, "this pen was once owned by Dickens, by Orwell, by Virginia Woolf. It can make you world famous alright, but at a cost."

The man drank up every word, he swallowed and asked, "what cost?"

"Thirty-four ninety-nine," Dorothy grinned, "plus taxes."

You have been cursed so that nobody believes you when you tell the truth. But you find people will believe you when you lie. So until you can find a way to undo the curse you make do as a very successful merchant.

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

Call Call Call!

Wonwoo x coworker!reader Requested? Yes! Word count: 3k A/N: I know this must be the 4th or 5th time that I’ve insisted on IT employee Wonwoo, but no. I will not stop. It fits him so well.

Wonwoo lets out a big sigh when the phone stops ringing, leaning back in his chair to glare across to Mingyu’s cubicle. He’s answered the phone faster than the rest of them today, and Wonwoo knows Seungcheol and Vernon are also rolling their eyes. It’s a stupid little competition that’s started since you began working here.

You find pretty creative ways to break computers. And phones. And printers. You keep the IT help desk busy and it started as a joke when it was just emails. One of his coworkers would groan, “Ugh, we got another one,” and the response would be, “What is it this time?”

And in the beginning, you kept a very busy schedule. You’d leave your laptop hooked up at your desk for someone to look at while you were at meetings. Same with your desk phone. And the printer was shared amongst your department. All that to say, they had no idea what you looked like until one day it was Vernon’s turn to run and fix something for you. He comes back up an hour later and says, “Uh, did you guys know she was hot?” Vernon’s point was proven one day at the company lunch when you were introduced as the newest team lead for your department.

From then on, all four of them would glance at who was calling or emailing and call dibs. Yes, they’d eventually answer it as the job requires, but if it was you? The race was on. Mingyu happened to win today. He’s jumping out of his seat with a smug smile once he hangs up the phone. “She needs admin access to download something.”

Wonwoo narrows his eyes. “Can’t you just remote in to do that?” It’s what they would do for anyone else. Mingyu shrugs, making his way out of the office. Wonwoo tries not to feed this little competition his department has, but sometimes he can’t help it. Part of it is pride, because even if he’s not busy on another call or away from his desk, he always seems to lose the race to the phone or reply button. Mingyu and Seungcheol enjoy the competition, perhaps more than actually visiting you, though they seem to enjoy that too. Vernon even looks a little dopey sometimes when he comes back down from your cubicle.

Maybe it’s for the best that he loses all the time. He’s sure he’d be painfully awkward. So he’ll stick to your password reset requests which definitely don’t require a visit upstairs.

~ Wonwoo wins one day, not that there was actually a lot of competition. Seungcheol is out, and Mingyu and Vernon are on runs to help someone with something elsewhere in the building. Wonwoo has been left to man the phones and his heart leaps when he sees your caller ID come through. He answers the phone and you sigh on the other end. “I’ve done it again.”

His coworkers give you a hard time about how busy you keep them, so you start every call or email with an apologetic tone. It makes him bite back a chuckle. “What is it?”

“I’m locked out of everything. Which means I can’t even get in to my email to send a password reset request.”

“We need to discuss your password management,” Wonwoo teases, opening the directory. “Here’s your temporary password. You’ll need to reset it once you get in.”

Once you’ve jotted down the temporary password, you sigh again. “Thank you. I’ll try not to pester you again today.”

“It’s no problem.” He’s kind of required to say this, but he says genuinely right now. When the call ends, he documents the ticket and closes it, but when Vernon and Mingyu come back, they both see it and groan.

“You get to go on runs next time,” Mingyu grumbles.

~

Seungcheol gets the next call. You come in late to find out that nothing on your desk is working and you’re borderline panicked when you make the call from your coworker’s desk phone. Seungcheol comes back down ten minutes later with a smirk on his face.

“What, did you finally ask her out?” Vernon chortles from his desk. Wonwoo raises an eyebrow. Not that any of them had been so bold as to do that yet, but it seemed like it was only a matter of time.

“Oh no,” Seungcheol chuckled. “I’m not brave enough for that. I was laughing at the problem this time.”

“What was it?” Mingyu asked.

“Surge protector was off,” Seungcheol snorted. “Custodians must have hit it when they vacuumed. You should have seen her face when that’s all it took.”

Even Wonwoo can’t help but snort at the thought. Mingyu shakes his head. “How does she keep doing things like this?”

“It’s a mystery,” Vernon muses.

~

The next call goes to Vernon. The printer is on the fritz again, according to your message. This isn’t new, not even for you. Others regularly complain about the very same printer that’s ancient and really needs to be replaced. His coworkers still chortle about the fact that it’s you who has to report it today.

Twenty minutes later, Vernon comes back into the office and simply announces, “paper jam!”

No one really reacts to this announcement. They get a few calls like that a week. However, Vernon stands between the cubicles and presents a massive wad of printer paper. “I’m not joking.”

The three of them burst into laughter. “Oh man. Did you pull all of that out of the printer in front of her?” Seungcheol wheezes.

“Sure did!” Vernon answers, dropping the wad into the recycling. “Her exact words were ‘why me’.”

“Why her indeed,” Wonwoo muses.

“We need to just put in a request to replace that monstrosity. It’ll save her and everyone else on that floor a few phone calls,” Mingyu said.

“I’ll do it,” Wonwoo offered, pulling up a request form. Anything to put you out of your misery.

~

Mingyu might have taken the next phone call, but he begrudgingly hands it off to Wonwoo to handle. Mingyu’s in the middle of massive laptop order and can’t break away, so he dictates the problem to Wonwoo. It’s simple. You need a new keyboard. He doesn’t ask a lot of questions, simply filing the ticket and picking up a new keyboard from the supply closet on his way out.

He realizes you’re having a hard day right away. You’re cleaning the spilt coffee off your desk with paper towels that your coworker, Jiwoo, is handing you over your cubicle wall. You kind of look like you might cry when he approaches, so he doesn’t dare make a joke about your call today. “New keyboard,” he simply says, holding it up.

“Thanks, Wonwoo,” you sigh. “Sorry to make you make the trip up here for that.”

He shrugs. “It’s no problem.”

“No, it is. This is the first thing I’ve actually destroyed,” you pout, tossing a wad of paper towels into your trash bin and grabbing another wad from Jiwoo.

“These aren’t expensive,” he tries to soothe. “We buy them in bulk anyway. There are a ton in the supply closet.”

He doesn’t know if his words help, so he simply hooks up your new keyboard and carries the coffee-logged one away. Jiwoo is giving you another cup of coffee as he leaves.

He gets the typical questioning look when he arrives back in his office. He presents the destroyed keyboard. “Coffee mishap,” he says, dumping it into the equipment recycling bin. “I think she might have actually been upset by that one.”

“At least it wasn’t her laptop,” Vernon says.

“Don’t jinx it. Bless her heart, but it might happen someday,” Seungcheol said with only a bit of humor to it. Sometimes, they actually felt a little pity for you and your bad luck with technology.

Wonwoo wouldn’t mind putting in a laptop request form for you and setting up a loaner, but he did not enjoy seeing you upset. He hopes you don’t have to call again today, if only because it means you don’t have anymore mishaps to feel bad about.

~

The company is hosting a dinner for everyone in celebration of a successful year. It’s dull for the first half, with leadership rambling about record-breaking profits and an overwhelming number of new investors. Amongst other coworkers, you’re being honored for some of this work, for which you have to give a little acceptance speech. At least you have a good sense of humor, because you thank the help desk for all of the assistance they’ve given you in your time here. It’s sort of like an inside joke when you promise you’ll try not to break anything else.

Wonwoo decides to tap out a little after 10pm. It’s early for something like this, particularly since the company has an open bar tonight, but he doesn’t really feel up to getting drunk with his coworkers. His bed is calling his name, so he says good night and steps out of the venue the company has rented for the night. You’re already standing outside. It’s kind of unusual to see you alone. You usually stick to your department mates, namely Jiwoo.

He doesn’t know what possesses him to do it, but he approaches you. “Nice speech, but you didn’t have to do that,” he chuckles.

You glance up at him, grinning. “Oh, but I did. I harass you guys constantly. You deserved the shout out.”

“You’re our favorite troublemaker, it’s okay,” he teases. He glances around. “No Jiwoo tonight?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “No, she’s been sick the last couple of days. She wanted to make it, but she’s still stuck in bed.”

“That’s too bad,” Wonwoo says. “What will you do without your shadow? Or are you hers?”

You snort out a laugh. “Depends on the moment, I guess. But to answer your question, I’ll be getting a taxi. She usually drives for these things.”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow. “Why would you do that? I’ll just give you a ride.”

Your eyes get wide. “Oh, I couldn’t ask that of you. I’m all the way on the other side of town. You don’t need to go out of your way.”

Wonwoo shrugs. “I don’t mind the drive. Come on. I really don’t mind.”

You eventually nod. “If you insist. Thanks, Wonwoo.” He leads you to his car that’s parked around the block. He lets you guide him as he pulls out onto the street.

While driving between directions, he can’t help but chat idly. It even surprises him, but whatever nervousness he felt fades fast because you’re an easy person to talk to, even if the only safe topics he has are work related right now. “Do you like the job so far?”

“Oh yeah! It’s very different from my last job, but that’s a good thing.”

“Oh? What did you do before?” Wonwoo asked curiously.

You hesitate and he glances to you to see that you look a little sheepish. “You’re going to laugh.��

He quirks an eyebrow. “I promise I won’t.”

“You will,” you insist, before taking a deep breath. “Here it goes. I used to work in IT.”

Wonwoo can’t help the snort that he lets out. It’s a good thing he’s at a stop light. “Are you serious?”

You’re turning a little red, rolling your eyes. “I know, laugh it up.”

“Seriously, explain this to me. You used to work in IT but you’re the top ticket requester for the entire year. How did we get here?”

You’re shaking your head, though you don’t look too upset. “You said you wouldn’t laugh.”

“I know. I’m sorry, but that’s pretty ironic,” Wonwoo muses. “What? Do you just like for us to come visit you?”

“Your whole department? Maybe not,” you laugh, but it makes him quirk an eyebrow at you again.

“What? Do you have a favorite or something?”

You scoff good-naturedly. “What? So you can laugh at me again?”

“Is your plot to date Mingyu?” Wonwoo teases slyly, but you shake your head with an eye roll. “Seungcheol?” Another shake of your head. “Vernon?” He cries out.

You scoff. “Nope. You know, you hardly ever answer the phone?” Wonwoo’s perplexed for a moment, glancing at you at another stop light. “I’m… lost.”

“By what? That I know how to work a surge protector and was hoping you’d pick up the phone? Most of those calls were admittedly things I couldn’t help, but….” You trail off.

Wonwoo’s incredibly slow on the pickup. “You’re… into me? Me?” He points to his chest for clarification.

You blink up at him, gesturing to the intersection. “Green light.” Wonwoo starts driving again. “Why not you?”

“I don’t know… and why not just ask?”

You start to say something and then huff. “I don’t know. What if I make a fool out of myself?” You pause. “More than I already do, I guess.” You point to an apartment complex on the right. “This is me.”

He’s quiet for a few beats as he pulls up in front of the building. You’re peeling off your seatbelt when he interrupts. “I would have said yes.”

You stare at him for a long second before a smile begins to creep up on your lips. “Oh?” You glance around at the street in front of you before glancing back. It’s like you’re steeling yourself for something. “Would you happen to be free this weekend?”

Wonwoo slowly smiles, gripping the steering wheel. “Yeah, I’m free if you are.” It’s his turn to be a little bold. “But I’m free right now too.”

Your grin is getting wider. “The dinner didn’t quite cut it for me. Did it for you?”

“No… There’s a good restaurant around the corner that stays open late, I think.”

“Sounds good. Let’s go then!” You’re hopping out of the car and Wonwoo has never moved so fast to follow. He does everything he can to mask how giddy he is when he meets you on the sidewalk and you hold out your hand for him.

He’ll give you a hard time about your unorthodox approach to letting him know you’re into him later. Much, much later.

~

The phone rings and no one leaps for it. Mingyu even sits back in his chair again. “Wonwoo, it’s for you.”

The little competition of theirs was over the moment that the phone rang one day and you asked if Wonwoo was busy and could help you with something. He hadn’t really announced the newly found relationship, but he’d been met with three questioning glares when Seungcheol had asked why you wanted Wonwoo specifically. He’d casually said, “Not sure, but I’ll be a good boyfriend and go see what she needs.” He left the room in utter chaos that morning.

Since then, they’d resigned themselves to the fact that most of your calls were just excuses to see Wonwoo. It didn’t always work - sometimes Wonwoo was busy and someone else had to come help you - but no one would ever catch Wonwoo complaining.

Like now, Wonwoo simply stands and leaves the office to see you. He knows you don’t really need anything, but he likes the excuse just as much as you do. When he comes out of the elevator, you’re peeking over your cubicle wall and he can tell you’re grinning even though he can only see your eyes. He hangs over the cubicle wall lazily. “You rang?”

You look a little sneaky when you smile up at him. “I accidentally deleted a file and I think it’s gone forever. Can you help?”

“Sure,” he says simply, though he could have recovered this file from his desk. You slide your chair to the side and he squeezes into your cubicle to take over your computer. “Any plans tonight?” He says casually.

“No, do you?” You ask, tone teasing.

“Oh my god. Do you guys have to do this every day?” Jiwoo groans from her cubicle, though neither you or Wonwoo can see her. It makes you both laugh.

“Just put your headphones in, Jiwoo. Let me talk to my boyfriend,” you chuckle.

“Boyfriend, huh?” Wonwoo teases, ignoring Jiwoo’s second groan.

“When did we talk about that?” He’s absolutely messing with you because he’s been calling himself that for a while now.

You blink up at him innocently. “Do you hate it?”

Wonwoo snorts. “No, you know I don’t.” His phone buzzes, and then keeps buzzing in his pocket. He knows it’s one of his coworkers downstairs. “I gotta go, but I’ll see you later for dinner.” He risks a little kiss before he runs back downstairs. He’ll take whatever complaints his coworkers have for his little escapes upstairs any day.

[howi99]

Open book chapter 1

Jaune: *looking around* A library? *Taking his map of the ever after out* I don't remember the forest of knowledge being here...

???: *a feminine voice speaks before him* I don't remember sending you an invitation. How did you manage to enter?

Jaune: *looking over the map, seeing a woman with short blue hair looking at him* ... *Taking a moment to process the information* Are you... Are you a human?

???: *frowning* That wasn't the answer i was expecting. I shall ask again: How did you manage to enter?

Jaune: *blinking* Hm? Oh, uh i honestly don't know. I was exploring the ever after when suddenly i was blinded by myst. And when i could see again, i was here. *Walking up to her with a smile* Say, would you know what year we are? I was sent back in time and i kinda want to know when in Remnant i am.

???: ... *Looking at her books* Abnormalities shouldn't be able to leave the books by themselves. *Looking at the young man* Tell me, what is your name?

Jaune: Oh uh, my name is Jaune Arc. But really, the year, it's kinda important so i can stop the end of the world.

???: I doubt knowing the year would be of any help to you.

???: *a man with short black hair is approaching* Oh? Angela, you brought a new guest? I just finished with the Rats so could it wait a bit?

Angela: *shaking her head* I did not. It seems he, like you, entered the library on his own.

???: *looking around* Is that so? And you didn't dismember him? Or was that a commodity only reserved to me?

Jaune: *perplexed* Guest? Rats? Dismemberment? What are you talking about?

Angela: *with a blank expression* I won't mind doing it again if you continue pressing the matter, Roland.

Roland: *quickly* I'm sorry, i won't joke about this again.

Jaune: ... I'm trying to save the world from an immortal evil witch and nobody cares. *Sigh* maybe i should have stayed with the curious cat after all, instead of taking left on the road.

Angela: *looking back at Jaune* You said you came from a place named The Ever After, correct?

Jaune: *nodding* Yes! Well i'm from Remnant but it's complicated and-

Roland: *perplexed* The Ever After? I never heard of this place before. In what district is that?

Jaune: District? Look at me, i look like i just came out of a fantasy book! Do i even look a little bit like i'm from any part of any kind of city!?

Roland: *frown* Wait... You aren't from The City?

Jaune: I don't even know what city you are talking about! *Sigh* Look, are we near one of the kingdoms?

Roland: ... I think you are not going to like the news.

Jaune: ... This is not Remnant, is it?

Roland: *shaking his head* Sorry to disappoint you.

Angela: Furthermore, you won't be able to leave the library.

Jaune: ... *Sigh* That's that and this is this, i guess.

[mud-castle]

Was thinking about Maine Coon Firestar last night and just had the image of him playing with the kits when a queen, just trying to be friendly, asks how old he is. It was meant to be a joke, like "you're a little small for an apprentice, how old actually are you?" in a teasing way, but then he - not knowing the rules yet - very honestly and proudly says he's three and a half moons old. There's some confusion before the queen realises he's completely serious and this suddenly explains everything.

He gets asked by another queen and the elders. All of them come to the same horrifying conclusion that this apprentice is a baby oh fuck

So after some discussion, Bluestar suddenly has every queen, some former queens and every elder in front of her, complaining and trying to get her to realise she's training a toddler to kill. The most confusing day of her life honestly how did all these cats fit in her den

Bluestar, talking to Firepaw, realises he's absolutely lying through his panicked teeth when he says he's six and a half moons and definitely not three and a half. Well shit. What is she even supposed to do here? Un-apprentice him? Promote him to the name -kit? Just let him keep training but don't send him to battle?

I thought it would be kind of funny if they had to invent a whole ass new type of apprenticeship specifically for this situation. He's still an apprentice, but he will be 'mentored' by the queens in the nursery (cared for properly) and by the elders. It's his duty to help out around camp and learn what he can from the elders and queens, with Bluestar still being a involved, but less so. The elders give him tips and tricks for hunting and tell him every story they know, the queens mostly take care of him and he might get to go on herb gathering trips if he's lucky.

They just invent an early apprenticeship role for kits that mature a bit quickly or need something to keep themselves occupied specifically for him. I don't know if they'd ever use it again, maybe for four and a half moon old kits, but it's just funny to me they had to scramble to find a way to be reasonable adults in the situation whilst also not breaking his heart about not being old enough for an apprenticeship yet

Kid's gonna be so good at making comfy beds and knowing every piece of clan history possible by the time he's six moons mark his words. Boy got adopted by everyone and they had no say in the matter lmao

That would be really cute. A sort of pre-apprenticeship to keep older kits busy when they're old enough to be feeling agitated by being in the nursery all the time, but too young to be apprenticed.

Lol, the image of Firepaw smiling with a missing tooth and proudly saying that he's three and a half moons old. Same vibe as a little kid going "I'm this many years!" And holding up three fingers.

It would also be really funny if after all this Firepaw still managed to get in the exact same amount of trouble he would've as a normal apprentice. The whole clan is in a panic when he's missing from camp one day and he comes back with a banished medicine cat he found and fed (who taught him how to catch rabbits???)

The other clans probably think Thunderclan is irresponsible but no it's just this one child who has more trouble making ability than all the other apprentices combined.

[unofficialarchives]

Okay one this feels like the only place I can share this, as it doesn't fit my other blogs, but two - Have we considered making people think the meat is human meat, like setting up for that to be the twist,, and then they test it, and it has too many or two few cells or dna sequences to be human meat or anything known to us? But like to the point that it shouldn't exist? I know OP touched on this, so it's not entirely new but like.

"Yeah, I don't know, Jimmy makes a lot of cannabalism comments and he's always cooking that specialty meat of his at the cookout. But nah, Jimmy is too sweet for that right?"

"I tried human once. I didn't know until after the fact, they didn't advertise it that way. It was the best thing I'd tasted, and I don't know if it was thanks to the meat being what it was, or if it was because I was so hungry. Said it was dog meat, dog meat stew"

"Oh my god.. Dan is dead. He's dead, you guys. He went to talk to Jimmy about the meat and now he's just.. dead."

"We finally managed to swipe some of the meat before Jimmy could notice, or if he did it didn't seem like he cared. We're all terrified it'll be Dan, but.. we need to know. We've located a lab that will do the testing for us. We send it out tomorrow."

"Hey uh, Sarah, you sent the meat to the lab right?"

"Yeah, Why?"

"You sure it was the meat we stole from Jimmy's stash?"

"Yeah.. Just tell me what's going on?"

"They've said they had abnormal test results, and need us to send another sample. They haven't told me what that means though, just that they've replaced their equipment, and sent the previous sample to their sister company for testing"

"I guess we need another sample.. I'm just going to ask him for it this time. I don't think he'll care if I tell him I want to cook a steak up."

"Second and third opinions came back. I haven't read them, I wanted to wait for you. We deserve to find out together."

"Alright, let's get into it then."

"To whomever may be reading this, I regret to inform you, that our lab findings have been consistent, including our sister location which also tested the samples sent twice. At this time, we have found that whatever organism this sample has come from, is a one celled organism. We thought our machines faltered, a bad reading, but then.. it started growing. In the lab. It's taken over half of our test site. We don't know what it is, or where you could've possibly gotten it but do not consume this meat. We don't know what will happen if you do."

"Huh. That's.. really freaky."

"Really freaky? That's all you have to say? They specifically said not to eat it! How many times has Jimmy insisted it's safe?! We could have mystery meat growing inside us right now. It could be what he sleeps on based on what they've said.. and it only having one cell? How is that possible? No. It's not. It can't be.. I'm going to visit the lab."

I'm so tired of the way suspicious meat is always human meat like for once I just want to be surprised. Let it be something else I'm so tired of it being human meat

[wisecura]

Pretty

p4

Suguru x fem-reader

AN: now how long did it take me to send this one out? thank you for continuing, these are still under edit so please be aware.

Warning: Yandere behavior oncoming please continue with caution

Butterflies

c.1 ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ c.3

Suguru had managed to keep you all to himself on that porch for hours.

With no Satoru around to interrupt, he had free rein to tease, talk, and simply enjoy your presence.

And enjoy it he did—far more than he expected.

He felt a strange, insatiable need to hold your attention, to keep your eyes on him and only him, even as your yawns became more frequent and your eyelids grew heavy.

What surprised him most was that you didn’t seem to mind. If anything, you gave him that attention willingly, your focus never wavering.

The two of you stayed there until the sun began to peek over the horizon, its soft light creeping across the garden. Sitting inches apart, both of your legs swung off the edge of the porch, your hands so close they nearly brushed.

Suguru found himself talking about things he rarely shared—bits and pieces of himself he usually kept hidden. But with you, it felt easy. Natural. He wasn’t sure if it was because you were such a good listener or because your relaxed expression made him feel like he could tell you anything.

You talked, too, more than he’d ever heard you speak in one sitting. About little things, big things—anything and everything. He hung onto every word, marveling at the way you opened up to him.

And as the conversation flowed, Suguru felt an overwhelming urge to keep you there, to keep the moment alive. He wasn’t ready for it to end, wasn’t ready to let you go, even as the first rays of sunlight began to wash over the world.

The situation felt unnervingly intimate—just a little too close for a guy and his best friend’s little sister. But it would’ve been stranger to say Suguru wasn’t one of your close friends by now. Although, you weren’t entirely sure how you felt about calling him that. Friendships weren’t something you’d had much experience with, and with Suguru, things always felt… different.

If you were honest, though, if you had to pick anyone to settle down with someday, Suguru would be at the top of your list. He was passionate about his role as a sorcerer, even if you’d noticed hints of resentment toward some parts of it. Despite that, his care for his fellow sorcerers was undeniable, and his quiet strength and thoughtfulness drew you in more than you’d ever admit.

But the idea of actually dating him? That was impossible. He was Satoru’s best friend, first and foremost. Crossing that line wasn’t just risky—it felt like breaking some unspoken rule. And yet, as the sun rose higher, you couldn’t quite shake the thought.

If you did want to date Suguru, what could you even do? He was like your first crush, sure, but what did you really know about relationships anyway? Books, movies, and the occasional online post had given you a general idea of how it was supposed to work, but theory was far different from reality.

Satoru, of course, had always made it clear he wouldn’t let you date anyone without his approval. And you had the sneaking suspicion he wouldn’t want you dating at all—approval or not.

But even if Satoru miraculously gave his blessing, there was still Suguru.

How did he feel? He seemed to treat you much like Satoru did—affectionately but firmly, with no hint of flirtation in your conversations. Did he see you as an extension of your brother? Another little sister to look after?

The thought made your stomach twist uncomfortably. Maybe you were reading too much into things, hoping for something that wasn’t there.

And it wasn’t like you could ask Suguru how he felt—not without bracing for the consequences. What if he thought it was just a naive schoolgirl crush and brushed you off with that teasing smirk of his?

What if he outright rejected you, called you some spoiled, snot-nosed kid for even thinking about it, and made you feel foolish for harboring those feelings at all?

Or worse, what if he got uncomfortable, distanced himself, and left not just you but Satoru too?

Suguru Geto was unpredictable, and that alone made the prospect of confessing anything feel like walking a tightrope. Too many outcomes, too many risks, and not nearly enough certainty to act on how you felt.

"Looks like it’s time for bed," Suguru said, letting out a loud sigh that broke the quiet. You blinked, finally noticing the soft hues of the rising sun. Exhaustion hit you all at once, and you realized you probably looked as tired as you felt.

“I didn’t mean to keep you so long,” you said, your voice thick with drowsiness, tinged with apology. “But I really appreciated the company.”

He didn’t reply immediately, but the smile on his face said more than words could. It was a smile reserved just for you or Satoru—so warm, so affectionate, it left you unsure of what to make of it.

As you stood, his eyes followed your movements, trailing over your form without hesitation. When you glanced down, you found him already watching you, his dark gaze unreadable. Your heart pounded in your ears, the heat rising to your face impossible to ignore.

Backing away clumsily, you nearly tripped over your own feet, breaking the moment. Suguru shifted, ready to catch you if needed, but you steadied yourself before he could move. Embarrassed, you kept your eyes fixed on the ground, mumbling a quick, flustered excuse as you made your way to the door.

Pausing just before stepping inside, you turned slightly, your voice soft, barely above a whisper.

“Good night, Suguru.”

You didn’t wait for a response, disappearing into the house before he could recover from the shock.

Suguru sat frozen, utterly speechless, the sound of your voice—his name spoken with such quiet affection—lingering in the air like a ghost.

Behind your bedroom door, you leaned against it, hands clutching your chest, your heart hammering as if it might burst. The exchange had been wordless yet heavy with emotion, and you hoped you’d conveyed even a fraction of what he’d shown you with that smile.

You felt breathless. Vulnerable in a way you’d never been before.

Sure, it might not have meant much to him, but to you, it was everything. Suguru was the first person besides Satoru you’d ever let yourself get this close to.

You couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across your lips.

Damn it.

You really were like a little schoolgirl confessing to her crush—running off like that, all flustered, just from saying his first name. It was so embarrassing.

The initial giddiness faded as you lay on your bed, thinking about how silly it was to get so worked up over something Suguru probably thought was meaningless. You stared blankly at the wall you shared with him. His room—the previous guest room—was right next to yours. You hadn’t given this much thought before, but now you were acutely aware of how close he was.

Satoru’s bedroom was farther down the hall, naturally having claimed the master suite, but that wasn’t comforting. It didn’t change the fact that Suguru was right there.

You groaned, turning onto your side. Whatever. Summer would be over soon, and once school started back up, you wouldn’t have time to dwell on this.

The sound of floorboards creaking outside your door pulled you from your thoughts, followed by a soft thunk, signaling that Suguru had returned to his room. You exhaled deeply and let your head sink into the pillow. Within seconds, you were out, completely unaware of the chaos you’d left behind.

Suguru sat on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the wall that separated him from you. His mind reeled, replaying that moment over and over again.

The way your lips had shaped his name—Suguru, not Geto—was enough to knock the air from his lungs. You’d said it so softly, so fondly, with a warmth he thought was reserved only for Satoru.

He felt weightless, like he’d drifted into some dreamlike state where everything felt too good to be real. Was it exhaustion playing tricks on him? Or had you really said his name like that?

Whatever it was, he didn’t want it to end. He could listen to you say his name for hours, days, maybe even forever.

For the first time in a long while, Suguru felt light, as if the weight of the world had lifted for just a moment. Even with Satoru, he’d never felt this... enraptured.

And he knew then—he was gone.

p.3

[urfavlarry]

—Polar bond

requested. yes || no

summary. ice skating date with Aiden :3

warning. not proof read, swearing, short

“Soo.. Can I hold your hand on the ice?” Aiden asked slyly and slid his hand onto your much colder one as you sat on the bus to the ice skating rink. “Depends..” You smile teasingly and interwine your fingers with his. It wasn’t a surprise Aiden would come with you with the idea of going ice skating and it wasn’t just as a surprise that you said yes.

You always entertained his dumb ideas and with the two of you always being attached at the hip, or sharing your two brain cells, the two of you were always around whenever mischief was being caused.

Just as you arrived at the skating rink, snowflakes started falling from the gray-ish clouds above you like soft white petals which made the experience twice as magical. Sadly the snow wouldn’t be able to reach you anymore since you were skating indoors but you could only hope that you were going to come back with a bunch of snow lying around.

You borrowed a pair of skates and waited for Aiden to get his own while you tried your best to tie them as firmly as possible to prevent any slipping and injuries. You took the guards of the sharp shiny blades and helped Aiden tie his own pair and took the guards off so you could finally get to skating. You couldn’t really lie; you weren’t all that great at skating. Yes you knew how but it was just overwhelming being in a full blown crowd with little space and children running— well skating around you like they had 10 cups of coffee hours before. Aiden noticed how you just merely stood in one place gripping the edge to steady yourself and skated over to you, interwining his hands with you just like he had mentioned on the ride here.

“Come on, it’s not that scary when you get the hang of avoiding crashing into people.” He chuckles and kisses your cheek before pulling you with him, making you stumble but you manage to balance yourself and follow his lead.

Every time you stumbled or almost hit someone Aiden somehow ‘saved the day’ and caught you in his arms with a warm, teasing smile and some smart ass remark. “Come on, it isn’t that hard. You just want to be in my arms don’t you?” He asked with a smirk and pulled you to the side so you weren’t in the way of the many other people skating and lifted your head by the chin to look into your eyes. You hated when he did that. “Aiden, not now.” You whisper yelled as the millenial couples passed by with grimaces and children with big curious eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed? You’re the one who’s been dying to be in my arms this whole time.” You punch his shoulder and skate away from the stunned yet smiling boy, trying to loose him in the crowd of people but it was like he had a tracker on you and was impossible to loose!

Once he caught up he grabbed you by the waist which wasn’t a smart idea because spoiler alert; you fell. And Aiden unfortunately went down with you with a loud thud and not without sending shots of pain through your body. “Fuck Aiden, you fucking dumbass.” You glare but you couldn’t help the smile forming on your lips as a fit of giggles fill Aidens ears. He smiles and lifts himself up before lifting you up with him and pulling you out of the rink. “I think that’s enough time on the ice for the day.” He says disappointedly but takes off his skates, stretching his aching legs and letting the blood flow through them without any pressure.

The walk to Aidens house wasn’t long, giving yourselves the time to enjoy the falling snow and christmas atmosphere and have small snowball fights which usually ended in you getting hit square in the face with the freezing snowball. “My feet hurt so bad.” You groan, Aidens ears perking up with a small smile which never meant anything good. He lifted you into his arms, walking the rest of the way to his house with you being carries bridal style which only made your cheeks redder.

Once you finally got home you two made some hot tea and changed into some more comfortable clothes; which consisted of Aidens sweatpants, a shirt you forgot to bring home after a sleepover and some random pair of fluffy socks. “I had fun babe.” He said as he admired you in the mirror doing whatever it is you did before bed. “Yeah, me too my love.” You smile and give him a quick kiss, setting your phone down which now had the two of you at the ice skating rink as your background.

© URFAVLARRY

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE OR COPY ANY OF MY WRITING TO OTHER PLATFORMS

[itsa-me-lily]

I was a brave girl this morning, but I'm not saying that it wouldn't have been a better experience with a six foot something British man with me.

Here is the Military Program Spouse Masterlist

Here is Simon x Thimble Playlist

As always, I do enjoy asks!

Content warning;

medical discussion, needles, mention of blood (just a tiny bit) Let me know if I miss anything.

You were a grown woman who was capable of filing your own taxes and paying your bills. You had been managing your diabetes for over a decade. You could do this. You could absolutely do this.

Yeah you couldn't do this. You felt dumb as you stood behind the couch, fiddling with the hem of your shorts. You didn't mean to sound so pathetic but well...when needs must?

"Simon?"

Thankfully the man didn't turn around on the couch, instead focusing on the latest of the wooden build kits you had splurged on. It helped keep your embarrassment down.

"Hm?"

"Couldyouhelpmewithmyinjectable"

Yes you knew you were mumbling. No you didn't exactly want to speak clearly.

"What was that?"

Great, Simon was turning around to look at you, brown eyes blinking owlishly as he tried to decipher what you had said. There was silence for a few moments, him just looking at you while you avoided looking at him. Eventually you sighed. You knew you needed to stop acting so childishly about it.

"Could you help me with my injectable?"

"Help?"

He sounded confused, which was fair enough. You had spent the last few days talking about the new medication, how it was suppose to help with insulin sensitivity, and how it didn't really run the risk of sending you crashing, but still going over what to do if he found you in that kind of state. You had sounded so confident then.

"Yeah...I went to go do it but then I saw the needle in the pen cartridge, and it's really big, so now I'm a little scared and I can't press the button."

It all came out in a rush, you wouldn't be surprised if he asked you to repeat yourself. But he didn't. Instead with a raised brow he held his hand out, making the grabby motion for you to hand over the injectable. You did so as you came around the couch to stand in front of him. For some reason Simon also decided to look into the injectable pen, as if to verify your claim.

"Jesus that fucker's big."

"I know!"

You didn't mean to pout, but your lower lip still jutted out, giving you a petulant look. It wasn't your fault you had the innate fear of needles some times. You typically did really well with them. Thankfully Simon didn't take the opportunity to tease you for it. Instead he motioned for you to point out where you wanted it. You showed him the patch on your outer thigh you had already cleaned with an alcohol wipe.

With one big hand he slipped it between your legs to hold the back of your thigh steady, the other placing the flat end of the injectable pen against the spot.

"Just have to push the button right?"

"Yeah and hold it for ten seconds at least."

You couldn't help the way you reached out to grab Simon's shoulder for support, both moral and to keep your balance.

"Alright, on three yeah?"

"Okay."

You started to brace yourself as you prepared for the count down.

"One-"

"Ow!"

The bastard didn't wait for three. He pressed the fucking button down as soon as he had said one. The hand on your thigh was probably the only thing that kept you still as Simon counted up to ten before pulling the pen away, wiping away the small drop of blood with his thumb.

"There all done."

"That hurt."

"Well sometimes medicine hurts ya?"

You didn't want to argue with him about it, because technically speaking yeah, he was right. Didn't mean you had to like it. The look on your face must have amused him because he huffed that dry chuckle that he had, pulling his arm away to give your hip a pat.

"There you're all set for now. Think ya can do it next week on your own?"

You didn't like how amused he sounded. Wasn't he supposed to be a supportive husband?

"Yeah I'll be fine now."

"Well you know where to find me if not."

As if you'd let him do that again. He probably wouldn't even give you a count down next time. With a huff you took the empty injectable pen back, heading back to the bathroom to dispose of it in the hazmat container.

You choose to not acknowledge how warm his hand had felt on your thigh.

Edit;

Simon thought you looked like a hamster with your puffed up cheeks and pouting. He found it cute.

[nkyslover]

OOPS! I'M DOOMED...

whoops, looks like you caught yourself in quite the situation! when your homeroom teacher pairs you up with satoru gojo, your one and only; academic rival, for a project, your conflicted. as satoru himself would say, "sorry honey, the world doesn't work like rainbows and sunshines."

mara's notes! — back with another lame fic, i genuinely might have writers block or something because my ideas are non existing atp😭 send help yall PLEASE and i hope u guys enjoy it!!

"satoru gojo and y/n y/l/n, you both will be together for the project time."

you couldn't stop your eyes from widening as you froze in your seat.

satoru gojo!?

what the hell did your homeroom teacher think she was doing? pairing two people who absolutely despised each other, together for a project!?

your sure she knew. how could she not? you two are the only ones who compete in competitions that involve alot of debating, in another word, arguing?

or how you both would start to argue about how to pronounce different vowels in japanese, and how he'd ask you questions you didn't have the answer to when you'd be doing a presentation?

it was pure hatred.

"class will be dismissed in 5 minutes, until then, please pair up with your partner and discuss." your teacher smiled, before diverting her question to her book, scribbling notes on it. chairs started to move, and you start to frown. how are you gonna survive?

she stops, glancing up. "also, there will be a total of 6 times you will have to meet up. its a must, and you must complete these 6 meet ups to make sure you haven't missed anything."

your done for.

"get back here!"

god he was fast.

but that was all you could hear. okay, you may or may not be sprinting or running for your life away from the tall white haired boy who was chasing after you.

"leave me alone!" you cried, shoes hitting the ground as you turn the corner, huffing and puffing as you hope he leaves you be.

"why are you running!?" he yelled, turning the corner after you and following you down the hallway of the big academy. you manage to not bump into anybody as you dodge the crowd. "because your chasing me!" you screamed, as other students gave you both knowing looks. it was probably normal, then again.

"fuck— stop running! really, i'm not gonna stop until you stop!"

you turn another corner into a more secluded hallway, and then you trip, foot slipping as you yelp loudly, bag falling out of your hand as you fall forward, if it wasn't for a pair of arms slipping around your waist, you definitely would have face planted!

but then again, that's how you ended up in an empty study room in the library. satoru gojo had dragged you there, and he was too strong to even protest against anyways. poor you!

"i want to go home." you mutter, dropping your pen on the page full of notes that you just written. "after this, we have 5 more meetings to make so just keep writing or we won't get anything done now."

you frown.

"stop looking at me like that." he lifts his head, eyes meeting yours as he narrows his eyes as a silent threat, you don't hesitate to pick up your pen and keep your head down. "bully." you mindlessly mutter under my breath.

he's gonna act like that didn't tug a small smile at his mouth, yeah.

a few days later, you think your more than halfway through your project. wait, you think? maybe it's because you've been telling satoru off for being lazy when he's the one telling you off, and oh, we can't forget! you may or may not have caught him staring at you. you blink, and suddenly his eyes are on the book, which is odd. are you going insane? maybe it's the air of his dorm room.

okay, you might have been spending time in his dorm. he might have been feeding you snacks, and you both might have been bonding.

that sounds like a crime.

you also have his number now! he sends weird messages, did i mention?

gojo: sugs told me u have a date???

gojo: btw u need to cancel it bc we need to study some extra contents on the project

you: wait what??? but we've finished the project

gojo: i told u we need to study

gojo: get ur ass in my room before i drag u

you: i can't cancel the date it's a date gojo

gojo: too bad too sad, im waiting

matter of fact, he did have to drag you. and you actually didn't mean to blank the guy you had a date with but it wasn't your fault. somehow his contact disappeared from your phone. you didn't have a lock on your phone, but at the same time you didn't suspect anybody.

that makes you more unlucky.

now, your labelled as "satoru gojo's girlfriend" but how the hell did this even happen? maybe you didn't even realise when you started to fall in love with him, gaze meeting with his, hands accidentally touching when you'd walk together, and the butterflies in the pit of your stomach when he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear when it got in your face.

whatever, young love, as they say!

[puppyeared]

ive made myself more wet and pathetic

[applejarjar]

*sending an email asking for interview feedback as if that wasn't the best interview of my life and if you made me interview again I would burst into tears'

[foldingfittedsheets]

When I was working at the sex shop I was pulling poverty wages. I loved my job but I was on food stamps and still barely getting by. When they hired the stores first male employee and he started at my pay rate after I’d been there for three years I quit.

I was initially really nervous when I saw the post for the mattress job. It listed a pay scale that I couldn’t even conceptualize and I appeared qualified. When I got an interview I was over the moon but also petrified. Reactions to my line of work often varied but most people were very embarrassed or skeptical. I worried about how I’d address it in the actual interview.

I lived far to the north of their headquarters and drove almost two hours to get there. When I finally arrived it was in the nicest thrift store clothes I could find, but I shrank inside to see a room full of older white men in nice suits waiting to be interviewed for the same job.

Why did I bother? I was decades younger than anyone else in the room, shabbily dressed, and I suspected I was the only afab person in the entire building. I stewed in my insecurities until I was called in.

The second I met my interviewer I was instantly put at ease. The man had the energy of a therapy dog, he was abound with positive, good natured energy. He was also incredibly beautiful. I grinned back at his welcoming smile as we said our pleasantries. But still. This very beautiful polished man seemed very innocent. How would the sex shop question go?

“I see here you worked at STORE?”

“Yes,” I said hesitantly.

“And that was sales? Or you just rang people up.”

“No, it was sales. I’d help people find products, we were encouraged to upsell, there was sales spiffs, and most importantly we educated customers on products to help them find what they liked best.”

He grinned approvingly and asked, “Can you give me an example of a time you successfully upsold a customer?”

I paused, wringing my hands before I asked, “How vague would you like me to be…?”

“Not at all!” He assured me. “Go for it!”

“Well. A man came in looking for something to make his fingers vibrate so when he was touching his wife it would enhance that sensation. We had cheap $10 cockrings that I showed him first. But we had a rechargeable waterproof one made of nicer material, and after I showed him a demo he bought that one.”

“How much was that one?”

“$110”

“Wow! You had an upsell of 100% from what he came in looking for! That’s incredible!”

He was so truly genuinely stoked and not at all embarrassed that for the first time I saw a tiny glimmer of a future where I didn’t have ramen and peanut butter tiding me over between paychecks.

He asked me to wait then came back to tell me he liked me so much that he wanted to send me right into another interview, if that was okay. He didn’t want me to have to drive back later, it was terribly considerate and exciting. I beamed and told him it would be lovely.

I then had the second worst interview I’ve ever had. The worst goes to the time I applied to be a store manager for a pet food place years later. The district and store manager interviewing me passed notes and texted while I was speaking. When the district manager called to inform me I didn’t get the job I told him I’d never have accepted anyway because I’d never had such a disrespectful interview.

The new man sitting behind the desk radiated an aura of a brick wall. As someone with anxiety I’m highly keyed into the emotional states of people I’m talking to. To receive no feedback at all was my personal hell. After a perfunctory greeting he asked me with no inflection to sell him a pen.

I gathered the shreds of my courage and attempted the Herculean task he’d set me. Through my whole improvised spiel he resisted all attempts at engaging him, regarding me with a cold apathy as I touted the benefits of my fictitious pen.

Halfway through I broke into a cold sweat. My smile didn’t waver but it grew strained as I projected friendliness and warmth into the black hole of his heart. My thoughts scattered and my sales pitch grew redundant in the face of his nothingness. I finally concluded with a hard close and he simply nodded.

He glanced at my resume and commented, “You didn’t ask me to touch or hold it. Though I suppose I can understand from your previous line of work why you wouldn’t.” I shriveled and died inside knowing that I encouraged people to touch dildos all day long and had been too frazzled to offer him the pen.

He bid me a cool farewell. I made it to my car before I started sobbing. I had never been so rattled. I couldn’t understand what I’d done to make him so unfriendly or if my threadbare clothes were what had made him treat me like dirt. I drove an hour and a half to get home, weeping intermittently.

I was therefore taken by complete surprise to receive a call the next day inviting me on board for their five week training program. The first man who’d interviewed me gushed on the phone about how the second guy had loved me and that I was going to be fantastic.

I was in shock. When I showed up to training the second interviewer was charming my new classmates, beaming and laughing. He was an utterly different person. To my dismay I learned he was the trainer for my district and would be my point of contact if I made it through training.

He joked with me later that his interview facade was just a tactic to see how people held up under pressure and I filed him into a category of my deepest enmity. I never forgave him for how small he made me feel that day, but I never showed him the depths of my fury.

I aced every test and went on to be valedictorian of the eight people who had survived the rigorous training process to earn a sales position. When I got my first paycheck I bought myself new clothes, the first non-thrifted things I’d owned in years.