#and I’d have to probably just drive back and do it all anyway

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

oof, everything with izuku and shinsou in pez makes me so sad, is there any au where they’re friends? or do they ever get along better in the future?

I won’t say about the “getting along better in the future” bit because I’d rather that be revealed in the fic itself. I do have a fic where they’re best friends from nearly the very beginning of canon that I fondly refer to as my Fake Dating AU, despite the fact that there is no fake dating at all.

All Might and Inko are fake bitter divorcees.

I love this fic so much, it’s my favorite bnha fic next to pez, and it’s been sitting in my mind for years now. If I ever publish another bnha fic, it’ll probably be this one. More info below the cut for anyone who wants to avoid spoilers to a fic I may never write.

Fundamentally the issue is this:

A child

EXPLODES

At the UA Entrance Exam.

This is only like 20% Izuku’s fault, or, depending on how you look at it, 100% Izuku’s fault.

Unluckily for everyone, Monoma stole Izuku’s Quirk first out of everyone. He. Explodes. (Yes, I know that he just draws a blank when he steals OfA I came up with this before that became canon just ignore that ignore it).

Anyway it’s just his arm but this is still wildly traumatizing for everyone. While Aizawa is fucking booking it across campus and lawyers are getting contacted and ambulances are called and all exams are getting halted, three people respond:

Midoriya Izuku, wondering if he is legally to blame for this kid’s arm exploding

Shinsou Hitoshi, no idea what the fuck is going on, just there to force the kid with no arm to calm down and breathe so he doesn’t bleed out faster

Iida Tenya, confused, blood splattered, sprinting across campus to kidnap someone named Setsuna Tokage on Izuku’s frantic order

Monoma gets better, because Izuku had met Setsuna earlier in the day and correctly realized that Monoma may regrow his own arm if he copied Setsuna’s Quirk. But the entire exam gets canceled for everyone, and the three kids who were directly involved in the emergency response get held for their parents. Legally, they need to bring them back for interviews about what happened, and they need to get parents involved at that point.

Izuku has a problem, and it is this:

Everyone knows it’s his Quirk that made that boy explode.

But he didn’t have a Quirk this morning.

His mom knows this.

He frantically texts all might begging him to pick him up instead. The school won’t release him unless an adult comes to get him and he’s got no other options save his mom. He didn’t know how to tell the he got a quirk but he knows that making a boy EXPLODE is not the way to do it.

But it’s fine. All Might is coming. He will be here, and it will be fine then. This is so, so fine.

Izuku: “Mr. Aizawa, you don’t have to call my mom. I texted my—” Adult man who I meet 4-7 times a week in an isolated location without parental knowledge or supervision. But don’t worry, it’s just because he told me not to tell anyone. Haha, you don’t want to call the police on this man. “—dad.”

Aizawa, does not want to be here: we already called your mom kid.

Izuku: oh god

Aizawa: she was down as your emergency contact. But if your dad is coming instead, I’m sure that he’ll let her know

Izuku: that… sure does sound like the kind of information people that share a child would share

Aizawa, so fucking tired: okay

Now Izuku has a new problem:

His dad is coming.

He doesn’t have a dad.

His mom knows this.

He tries to frantically call off all might. All might does not respond. He is a model citizen and does not text while driving. Izuku is fucked.

Iida is picked up. Izuku waits. His mom arrives. There are tears. He tries to power walk her out of the building before anyone says the words “your sons quirk blew up a boy” out loud and in that order

Yagi Toshinori frantically enters the room, takes one look at him, looks at no other fucking people, and says “my boy are you alright”

Izuku: fuck.exe

This all makes more sense to Aizawa now. A haunting amount of sense. He needs to go day drink.

Aizawa, in haunting realization: so this is your son

All Might, did not plan this far ahead: … yes

Midoriya Inko, knows she did not have a child with this man: I’m sorry—

Izuku, panicked: HI DAD

What follows is a lot of eyebrow raising and hissed, cut off whispers and begging his mom under his breath to be fucking cool about this please please please. As a result, she does not immediately out the fact that she has no idea who the fuck this man is and she wants him arrested for something, she will figure out what.

The other result is that the vibes are so immediately and violently toxic that Aizawa and fucking Shinsou, who is also here, immediately comes to the conclusion that Izuku’s parents are bitter divorcees who have given up trying to keep it together for the kid and are just at each other’s fucking throats.

Aizawa, wants to know less about All Might’s personal life: … anyway your son’s Quirk was copied during the entrance exam and the arm of the child who did it. Exploded. You’ll need to bring your son in within the week to answer some questions for our records

Inko, shocked: my son doesn’t have a quirk

Izuku: fuck.exe

Aizawa, staring at fucking All Might, mildly: no it was definitely your son’s quirk

Yagi, never sweated harder in his fucking life: well… honey, uh, you know that on my side of the family there’s a history of late bloomers

Inko, saccharine: did I know that, sweetie? Because that sure sounds like something a mother should know about her child, but I’m not sure that I knew that. In fact, it may be that everyone just expected me to know that when I walked into this room without telling me

Aizawa:

Shinsou: :o

Aizawa: to be clear only one parent is needed for the follow up interview

Inko: he is Quirkless. He was always going to apply Quirkless.

Yagi: right right but, well, it seems that he has a Quirk now, so perhaps it’s best if he uses that

Inko: ONE THAT EXPLODES ARMS???

Yagi: I am certain it does other things too

Aizawa, staring directly at the ceiling: I’m sorry, I can’t let you leave here today if you may explode. When was the first time you used your Quirk and were you able to use it safely

Izuku, coughing slightly: technically I’ve never. Used. My quirk

Shinsou: :o :o :o

Izuku: so really it’s been a day of surprises for us all

Aizawa:

Izuku: but hey I got my Quirk guys. yayyyyyy.

Matters escalate. Inko unlocks her theatre kid background and accuses All Might of violating the custody agreement that they do not have. The words “I’ll kill you in this room” are said aloud and where other people can hear them. Izuku has to restrain his own mother.

Izuku asks if they could please have a family meeting. Aizawa says that they definitely should.

Izuku convinces his mother to not murder Yagi long enough to get them all into an empty bathroom, where she immediately starts beating all might, his lifelong hero and personal mentor, with her purse.

He transforms into All Might so she won’t try to kill him on the spot.

THE RESULTS:

Izuku’s mom is so fucking angry

She is so fucking angry

But she also knows that if shit gets revealed “I have all might’s quirk because I am his secret son” is 1000% better than “I have all might’s quirk because it’s transferrable and you can have it too if you torture it out of me.”

Inko will happily fake being bitter divorcees with all might if it means adding an extra layer of protection for her son. They’re doing this.

THE OTHER RESULTS:

Shinsou Hitoshi just sort of wanted to go to the bathroom and opened the door to find his fellow test taker with his mom and the world’s most famous man who was obviously the same guy as the dad from before, like they’re wearing identical clothes and everything, and after a moment of haunting silence says “I’ll use the other one” and just. Leaves.

Izuku: fuckfuckfuck.exe

Shinsous not a dick okay. He’s not going to leak the fact that the world’s most famous man apparently has a tinier, more unobtrusive form and he’s been using it to quietly white knuckle his way through the worlds most rancid divorce, fucking apparently. All Might’s saved like, a stupid number of people and possibly the world. He does not want to be this involved in All Might’s life and is hoping that he can confidently power walk his way out of this social interaction.

He cannot.

He has to suffer it. Nope, he’s not gonna tell anyone. Yes, really. If forgetting was an option, he’d have already done it. He promises. It’s all good. He’ll keep quiet.

He then has to have the same conversation with Aizawa.

Before they part, Izuku tells Shinsou that his Quirk is amazing and, a bit impulsively, asks him if he wants to train with him for the rescheduled exams. And Shinsou wonders if this is a trap and deflects with, “Oh you probably have a lot of people you can train with don’t let me hold you up.”

And no. No, Izuku really, really doesn’t.

And Shinsou remembers that while he knows this guy as All Might’s son, no one else does, and he was also thought to be Quirkless until an hour ago and obviously has a lot going on in his home life. So, a bit impulsively, he exchanges numbers with Izuku.

Which is how my AU where Izuku and Shinsou end up best friends before UA gets set up. It’s way too long to discuss in any detail, but some highlights:

The pre-UA friendship is actually Izuku, Shinsou, and Iida. Iida feels embarrassed because he was canonically coming down kind of hard on Izuku during the exam and then when boys exploded Izuku was in full control of the situation and acted the way a hero should and so did the other boy and next to them Iida must have seemed simply abominable and anyway Tensei cannot fucking take it anymore he simply cannot so he hunts Aizawa like an animal to a coffee shop so he can try and squeeze Aizawa for information about whoever the fuck the other boys are so Iida can just apologize or whatever the fuck honor demands and it’s just

Aizawa: no

Tensei: you don’t even know what I was going to say

Aizawa: the answer is no whatever it is

Tensei: you havent even heard my bribe yet

Aizawa: what is your bribe

Tensei: *sliding a coffee cup his way*

Aizawa: your bribe is coffee

Aizawa: in a coffee shop

Tensei: wait

Aizawa: so it’s essentially a market value of 400 yen is that it

Tensei: wait. Okay. This is a secret, off menu coffee with so much caffeine that you have to sign a waiver. They call it the nine engine locomotive. And it can be yours if you help me out here

Aizawa:

Aizawa: *walks over to the cashier*

Tensei: fuck wait wait

Aizawa: can I have the nine engine locomotive

Cashier: do you have a death wish

Aizawa: I have two jobs and one is teaching

Cashier: sir for you we can make it ten engines

Aizawa does admit that, to his deepest misfortune, he knows one of the parents of the kids in question. He can’t hand out their information but he can pass along the message. Izuku and Shinsou end up meeting with Iida for coffee and the three of them become friends and agree to train together for whenever they reschedule the exams for

This turns out to be a moot point because, as a result of this mess, the UA board of directors has to be informed that the student involved is all mights secret son and they lose their minds. He is All Might’s secret son who has a Quirk so powerful that it explodes lesser boys. They absolutely must have him at UA they’re sure he’ll figure out how not to explode. Nedzu, Nedzu, admit him now before he accepts from another school. Nedzu.

Nedzu has 97 screened calls and a headache.

The thing is that this has caused a bit of havoc. UA is usually the first school to hold their entrance exams. They usually get the pick of the litter. But now they have to laboriously replan and reschedule the entire practical exam for every single heroics applicant, which is causing conflicts with other courses’ exams, and they need to make sure that the new exam minimizes the risk of boys exploding for legal reasons. So they’re scrambling already without the Board suddenly deciding to just let in people for being all might’s son, which they can’t do. They’re even making Endeavor’s son sit the fucking exam. Do you want the number two hero to burn the foyer down. Do you. Because he will.

But the Board is insistent. Shiketsu will steal All Might’s secret son who explodes lesser boys out from under them. Admit him.

They end up fudging it as an early admission deal based on an extreme display of heroism. He saved an actual life are you saying that’s not enough to pass the exam?? Monoma is alive and has an arm thanks to Izuku’s quick thinking, which is saving UA from an incredibly costly lawsuit. He gets full rescue points. Boom. Call him right now tell him he’s in do it before shiketsu finds out all might has a secret son that explodes lesser boys.

And nedzu’s like. Okay. But if you want that reasoning to clear, it needs to be applied to all the boys involved.

And the Board is like, wasn’t the other one an Iida boy? Great family, great Quirk, great potential. Let him in.

And Nedzu says, And Shinsou Hitoshi.

Someone with a mind control quirk like his hasn’t made it into heroics in over 30 years. The revised exam won’t give him any real chances of changing that. It’s a trade off. They can cut corners for All Might’s secret son, but they have to give Shinsou Hitoshi a chance. Nedzu has a good feeling about him, anyway.

One morning, Shinsou wakes up to a letter, and it tells him, “Hello, we think you’re spectacular, and we’d like to give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of. Won’t you say yes?”

Okay, it doesn’t say it like that. But it might as well be what he hears.

He calls Izuku. Izuku got the same letter. They scream on the phone with each other until they’re breathless and giddy.

But the thing is. UA. Also. Informed. Their Schools. Who. Made. An announcement.

Bakugou loses his fucking mind.

Bakugou didn’t even want Izuku applying to UA. Only for Izuku to be one of three people in history to get early admission offers?? He’s fucking furious. He wants to know how Izuku did it.

And the thing is? Izuku already decided that he wasn’t going to reveal his shiny new quirk to these people. He doesn’t want them to suddenly decide to treat him well because he’s not Quirkless anymore. Fuck them.

Anyway Iida Tenya, following multiple flowcharts and pro cons lists, decided that it was Acceptable Friend Behavior to surprise his new, dear companions at their schools to personally congratulate them on their early acceptance and potentially indulge in some celebratory beverages together. His school released earlier than theirs, as his school had modeled its academic structure to complete earlier in the day so that hero hopefuls could take advantage of the heroics exam prep courses it offered, which he had been excused from since he had secured early admission to UA. So it was a simple matter to head over to Aldera and catch some feral, frothing hooligan physically accosting his dear, dear friend with illegal Quirk usage no less. Iida, of course, verbally reprimanded the vagabond and marched straight to the office to report such deplorable behavior

Bakugou: who the fuck was that

Izuku, gaping after him: fuck—Iida, Iida wait

He didn’t stop him in time.

And despite Iida’s fervent and loud insistence as to what happened, the principal blames Izuku.

Iida’s someone who just cannot abide by injustice. It gets under his skin. It makes him angry. He gets more baffled and aghast and furious the more he sees how Izuku is treated. He also gets confused as to why they think Izuku’s Quirkless and, even if he was, what that would have to do with him being physically assaulted on school property.

The school, for all of its happy announcement, wasn’t actually happy that Izuku made it in. They actually called UA to make sure that they were talking about the right student, which was a fun call for Nedzu to get. They still don’t know that Izuku has a quirk, because UA didn’t tell them and neither did Izuku, so they think Izuku did some kind of first aid or something to respond to an emergency and got sort of waved into the program. So whereas Iida got a personal congratulations from his principal, Izuku got called up to the office to be asked if he really thinks that whatever minor first aid he performed means he’s ready for UA heroics? He’s taking a spot from someone who deserves it more, and it will look worse on them when it becomes clear he can’t do it. It’s selfish. He’d be better off declining it.

Izuku drags Iida off of his school grounds and to shinsou’s school. Shinsou’s got his backpack strap torn off and a fresh cut in his lip. He takes one look at Izuku and laughs, bitter and empty

Iida takes this arc the worst. He is very protective of his friends and does not want to abide by other students or adults abusing them. He wants justice.

The boy spirals. He is power walking to their schools every single day to pick them up. He is baking them high protein brownies and writing them little encouraging notes for nutritional snack packs he hand prepares. He is Exuding An Energy.

They start a shared google drive and he has an entire folder labeled “My Revenge Plan By Iida Tenya” that’s dedicated to compiling evidence regarding these injustices and one day taking away all color of power or authority from those who wronged his friends. Izuku and Shinsou don’t actually know what’s up with the folder (the google drive is sacred they’re not gonna go in his room some people have revenge plans it’s fine)

Later in the fic they invite Todoroki to join their google drive and he immediately, instinctively, and without need for explanation knows that this is the emotional equivalent of asking him to move in with them. He is honored and he is touched.

There’s a mini buzzfeed unsolved arc because Izuku and Shinsou are experimenting with shinsou’s quirk and Izuku says “hey what’s with those eight shadowy figures that watch me ominously in the distance every time you put me under” and Shinsou says “the fucking what” and Izuku says “the eight shadowy figures” and Shinsou says “say psych right now”

After determining Iida does not see them too they decide that Izuku is obviously deeply and profoundly haunted because of that one time Bakugou dared him to knock on the door of that old abandoned house everyone said was haunted and now the ghosts live in his bones. This conclusion is compounded by the fact that the past users find this fucking hilarious and decide to haze the newbie by playing it up

The issue is that Iida is extremely productive and decides that what they need is to make a tour of all major religions and sample their exorcism rituals and go from there. Izuku has had 11 exorcisms from multiple religions and now Catholic bishops won’t stop calling Iida because Izuku’s catholic exorcism was wildly and blatantly unsuccessful and they are very concerned that satan is within him and Iida is of the stance that if they couldn’t do it the first time he doesn’t see what “going to the Vatican” will do so good day sir. Iida is trying to ghost the Catholic Church he keeps blocking their number and they keep calling from a new one. Izuku is despondent he does not want to go to Rome

Eventually they have to admit to the adults in their life that Izuku is obviously, profoundly, and irreversibly haunted because they decide to just say fuck it and use it for warfare. It’s their nuclear option. Total wildcard. When they are out of all other options, Shinsou just puts Izuku under and sees what crazy shit those ghosts do. The first time they have to use it Izuku explodes into a hurricane of writhing and enraged tentacles that try to manually break shigaraki in half.

Shinsou, sweating, trying to open the folder labeled “hey there demons it’s me ya boi”

Aizawa, stone faced: why is one of the folders labeled My Revenge Plan By Iida Tenya

Iida: I don’t see how that’s relevant

Izuku: oh my gosh sensei you can’t just—

Shinsou: you can’t just ask what someone’s doing in the google drive sensei it’s sacred

Aizawa:

Shinsou: *hits play* *x-files theme song immediately begins to play* *defeated whisper* I forgot we did that

I cannot emphasize enough just the peak shenanigans of pre-UA Iida, Izuku, and Shinsou. They end up spending nearly every single day together. They sleep over at each other’s houses. They become just incredibly close and some days Shinsou can’t breathe from it, because he walked into that exam with no friends and no real hope of passing, and now some days he can’t believe that this is his life. He can’t believe he has this.

Iida’s living with his brother, who is handling the launch of the Mustufasa branch of Idaten, to take advantage of a private middle school in the area that is a feeder school into UA. They regularly have at least one student a year make it into the heroics program and multiple who manage to get into support, business, or gen ed. So throughout all this a very confused Iida Tensei is Doing His Best while his little brother and his friends end up hysterical after playing with a Ouijia board during a sleep over. He’s very confused because the other parents seem to think he is a parent and he is not he is not he’s too young and hot to be tenya’s dad. He’s in a parents group chat with Izuku’s parents and Shinsou’s dad and is like “am I. Did you mean to put me in here. Should I. Add my mom?” And then later it’s a source of great hysteria for him. What do you MEAN he’s in a group chat with All Might what do you mean all might told him that ingenium is one of his favorite heroes and Tensei didn’t even realize he was all might when he said it. Shouta shouta how could you not warn him—

When they get to UA and Izuku somehow gets two votes for class president (who the fuck voted for him Izuku didn’t even vote for himself) and ends up in a three way tie with Iida (shinsou and Izuku both voted for him he’s so type a it’s what the office needs) and Yaoyorozu and he hires Shinsou as his campaign manager to help him throw the election and Iida gets so affronted at what the resultant flyers say about his dear dear friend that he tries to passionately concede the election and Izuku is like “no I commissioned those also shinsou you’re fired” and Shinsou is like “hey every single thing I wrote is true”

Iida and Izuku but Izuku especially just acts like it’s a given that they’re going to be doing team ups with Shinsou when they’re older. Izuku commissions a voice modulator that can throw its voice between his and Shinsous to help obscure who’s talking in case anyone figures out shinsou’s quirk and Shinsou doesn’t know how to explain to Izuku that he thought no one would ever tolerate him as a hero, let alone be excited to work with him

[seilon]

top surgery…………tomorrow…………

[quibbs126]

Opinion on toast?

Honestly, I think toast is pretty good, but I’m a bit specific on my personal preferences

While I white bread toast is probably fine, I prefer my toast to be wheat bread; I just think it tastes better toasted than white bread. I’m willing to compromise with honey wheat, considering my dining hall doesn’t have whole wheat anymore, but it needs to be wheat

I also only want my toast with butter or on rare occasions, peanut butter. It’s not a matter of other spreads being bad, it’s a matter of me being picky, I’ll admit that

But let me tell you, wheat bread toast with a good spread of butter on it, especially when the bread is in that golden range of toasted but not burnt? Absolutely delicious, could eat 4-6 slices of it if I have enough room in my stomach for it

I do also have to admit I don’t like French toast though. I don’t like the taste

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

hi! can i ask what's ur opinion on giving pets away? not necessarily because u can't afford to care for em anymore but maybe incompatibility of personalities or maybe lifestyles. is it wrong to give ur pet for adoption if u know someone who's better suited for keeping a pet, like emotionally?

This is going to be controversial, but I support making that choice.

There’s a lot of rhetoric lately around how it’s evil and unethical to rehome your pet if you don’t “need to.” And what that does is prioritize human ideology over the actual animal’s well-being.

Pets that aren’t a good match for your home or pets that aren’t really wanted anymore frequently have lower welfare! When caring for an animal becomes a burden or is forced, people end up resenting them, and that means the animal often doesn’t get all of its needs fulfilled. Even if you’re still feeding it and providing appropriate vet care, how likely are you to provide affection or enrichment to an animal you’re tired of being stuck with?

Lifestyle and personality really matter to making sure a pet is a good fit for a home. A dog that alert-barks at every leaf that moves is probably a bad fit for someone who has a chronic migraine syndrome, and they might not know that until the dog has been in the home for weeks and started to open up. A really feisty kitten that requires a ton of play might not do best in the home of someone older who wanted a quiet lap cat. And while you can you do your best to plan to find a compatible animal, you won’t always know ahead of time what issues might arise.

“Forever home” rhetoric is really, really popular and I think it’s very unfair to the animals it is supposed to support. It started with the backlash of seeing animals abandoned inappropriately, and has been heavily reinforced in the public mind because it’s so frequently used to drive fundraising and support for legislation. The whole “forever home” concept communicates to people that getting an animal is an immutable commitment and that if you can’t keep an animal, it is a personal moral failing. It frames human priorities (we think people who get rid of animals are Evil and Bad and should be shunned) as more important than actual welfare needs for individual animals (are they getting the care they need where they are).

Obviously, I don’t support people dumping animals or just getting fad pets they’ll discard immediately, but there’s so many alternate situations that can arise. Even if it’s just “they got a pet and didn’t know what caring for it would take and didn’t want to care for it so they brought it back, how awful” like… okay, I’d like the person to have done more research before they got a pet, but isn’t it better that the animal now has a second chance to go to better home? Knowing what a commitment requires theoretically can be very different than having to actually follow through regularly, and I’d rather see someone maturely acknowledge that having an animal isn’t a good fit than keep it anyway!!

If animals being happy and with all their biological, veterinary, and social needs fulfilled is actually the goal, we need to prioritize their welfare over human opinion. I’d much rather see an animal rehomed responsibly to somewhere it will thrive and be welcomed than see people keep animals they can’t/don’t want to care for out of guilt or shame. 

[julymusings]

Jason is the type of person to put on some shitty romance movie only for his date to fall asleep and for him to get strangely invested.

are you still watching?

i saddle up my horse and I ride into the city. i make a lot of noise 'cause the girls they are so pretty. riding up and down broadway on my old stud leroy, and the girls say...

or; 3 times Jason Todd gets hooked on your television choices [3.7k]

jason todd x fem!reader; this is so real...and so clever!!! i LOVE the concept. i did get a little carried away and lost the plot unforch...pt3 is just a sex dream ab cowboy!jason so. also I apologize for taking forever to respond. tw...klance mentioned💀 & suggestive but not explicit. and i do bash on voltron in pt2 a little but it's all in good fun🫶i did my time with them divider

i.

“Baby, I love you, but if you don’t pick something soon I’ll call Dick in here to entertain us with his backflips.”

“Oh, be quiet,” you huff. Though as you scroll, once again, through all the options on Netflix, you fear his threat may be serious.

You reach the bottom of the page, having found nothing. You peek at Jason from the corner of your eye and hover the cursor over the ‘Back to Top’ button.

“No.” He reaches to grab the laptop from you, but his injuries hinder his usual swiftness. You shriek in objection and roll away to the other side of the bed, computer held tight in your clutches.

“Babe.” He groans. He tries to reach across the bed to you, but his grasp falls short by mere centimeters as you frantically begin another scan of the site.

“I will find something, I promise!” You say. “Just one more minute!”

He rolls his eyes. “You said that ten minutes ago. And I’m the one who’s injured, shouldn’t I get to pick?”

You spare him a glance, pondering over his wrapped foot elevated on a pillow, and the bandages around his torso. His arm has fallen flat on his bed, having given up on its attempt to catch you. That alone should guilt you into saying yes; his childhood bed is just shy of too small for his adult self, so being unable to reach the other end speaks to the severity of his pain. And to add salt to the wound, you know he isn’t exactly fond of staying at his father’s house, but he is in no shape to recuperate alone.

“I would say yes, but you don’t know any good shows! All you watch is Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives.”

He scoffs. “I thought you liked that show!”

You scoff back, imitating him. “I did. But a person can only stand so much of Guy Fieri talking with his mouth full.”

He quiets, probably searching for a rebuttal, but you can’t imagine he’ll find any. You use the opportunity to resume your search unimpeded. 

After a few minutes, you perk up. “Ooh, they added New Girl on Netflix!” You scoot back over on the bed to his side, satisfied with your choice.

“What is that?” Jason asks.

You whip your head to him. “You don’t know New Girl?”

He pushes a stray hair behind your ear, eyes narrowed. “Should I?”

Your eyes flit to the computer screen, then back to him, and you sigh. “No, I guess not.”

You’re about to press play on the first episode but stop yourself. “Do you want to choose? You’re already hurting enough, I don’t want to torture you with this too. Besides, I’ve seen it, like, a million times anyway.”

“No, it’s okay.” He turns the computer towards him and presses play. “I don’t need any of my siblings barging in and catching me enjoying Guy Fieri. I’d never hear the end of it.”

You titter at his remark and set your laptop in the middle of you, a little farther away so you don’t have to crane your neck to see the screen. He lifts his arm to drape it around you but struggles with raising it past shoulder level. You meet him halfway by ducking underneath his arm and settling it over your shoulders. He kisses the top of your head in thanks.

Leaning against his chest, the rise and fall of his breathing is too hypnotic for you to focus. Paired with the warmth of his skin, bare so as not to obstruct access to his wound dressings, you are quickly lulled to sleep.

It must be several hours later when movement against you disturbs you from sleep. The room is almost pitch black, save for the dim glow of the computer, still on and resting on your legs a few feet away. The air is thick with late-night silence, and fighting against the heaviness of your eyelids is so laborious that you have to use your hand to pry them open. Jason is squirming next to you, hand outstretched, low huffs of pain slipping from his mouth.

A shot of adrenaline courses through you and you stumble into action.

“What happened? What hurts?” The laptop tips off your legs and falls to the bed, landing on its side as you scramble to your knees and face him. “Should I get someone?”

“What? No, I— I’m fine, why?” He squints at you through the darkness.

“You—” Your throat catches and you take a deep, steadying breath. “It sounded like you were in pain.”

“No, honey, I’m fine. It’s okay. You can go back to sleep.” Jason takes your wrist and gently pulls you back into his side. You don’t budge.

“Then why were you moving?” You scan him for any signs of a worsening injury. Downplaying his own pain is not something you can put past him, unfortunately.

“I…” His eyes look past you for a quick second. He swallows. “I wasn’t,” he says, unconvincingly.

You narrow your eyes at him, then turn around to see what he is looking at, despite his (false) reassurances. Your laptop, still on its side, lies awake and open to the Netflix website. You pick it up to get a closer look at the screen. The player has gone dark, and overcast in white lettering; ‘New Girl: Are you still watching?’

You turn back to Jason, dumbfounded. “You risked hurting yourself…for this?”

Now adjusted to the darkness, you can see his cheeks tinged with pink. “No?”

“Jason.”

“You’re the one who put it on!”

You check the clock in the corner of the screen.

“It’s three AM, Jay. You need to sleep if you want your body to heal.” You argue.

“It wasn’t on purpose!” He defends. “I can’t sleep sitting up, and I need help lying down.” he fails to meet your eyes as he says this.

You cross your arms, tilting your face to catch his gaze. “And what am I doing here?”

“I didn’t want to wake you up,” he mumbles.

You just stare. It takes fifteen seconds for him to break.

“Fine. I was enjoying the show. I wanted to keep watching. Happy?” He punctuates his statement with a shrug but groans through a clenched jaw, remembering the injuries to his upper body.

“Okay, just—” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose between your fingers. “It’s too late for this. Can we please go to sleep?” You don’t wait for an answer, shutting the laptop and placing it on the bedside table.

He leans off the headboard so you can help him shift his body down the bed and lie flat, and you lie down next to him.

“Comfy?” You ask.

“Yes.”

“Need anything?”

“No.”

“Okay. Goodnight,” you whisper. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Jason says quietly.

You snuggle into his side. It’s quiet for a few minutes, but you can tell by his breathing pattern that he’s still awake. He whispers your name into the darkness, hoping you’re still awake.

“Yes, honey?” You answer.

There is a beat of silence. Then, “When do Nick and Jess get together?”

“Go to sleep.”

ii.

Jason leans against the kitchen counter behind him, hands in his pockets, as he watches the microwave dish spin in a slow circle. It whirs under the yellow lightbulb, the flat paper packet puffing up among raucous popping. With sixty seconds left to kill, he searches the cabinets for a large enough bowl to fit the family-size packet of popcorn, as well as the various add-ons you adore.

The first time you invited Jason over for a movie night, in the beginning stages of your relationship, he looked on in wonder as you combined the grocery store’s entire snack aisle into one salty, sugary, buttery abomination in a jumbo Hello Kitty bowl.

“How do you even come up with something like this?” He had asked, ripping open the bag of pretzels as you emptied the fresh batch of popcorn into the bowl.

“Wait!” You stopped him just before he could pour the pretzels in. “Sugary stuff first. While it’s still hot. Then it gets all melty and good.” You dumped an entire bag of mini marshmallows, caramels, and M&M’s in, and gave it a few stirs. “And to answer your question, I was in high school and experiencing intense munchies.”

You gave him the OK to add the pretzels, so he did. “I envy your dentist,” he said, and you stuck your tongue out at him.

Now, with plenty more movie nights under his belt, you trusted him enough to assemble your party mix on his own while you select something to watch.

The microwave beeps. As he rips open the popcorn bag, you yell from the living room.

“Hey, what about The Bourne Identity?” You call out. “Have you—? Wait.” You cut yourself off.

“What’s it about?” He yells back. You don’t answer. “Babe?” He calls again.

“Never mind! I’m gonna keep looking!”

He adds the sugary snacks first, stirring them until they melt, just how you like it. He’s tearing into the bag of pretzels when he hears you shriek.

He drops the bag and bolts to the living room, pretzels scattering all over the counter and floor.

“What happened?” His eyes bounce around the entire room, scanning for any threat.

He’s unsure what he expected to find, but it was a tad more perilous than you simply sitting on the couch, staring open-mouthed at the TV.

“Uh…nothing. Sorry.” Your face flushes. The remote is still raised and pointed at the screen.

“Vol…tron?” Jason reads from the title sequence that plays in the preview window. “Is this some kind of anime?”

“No…sort of, maybe,” you say. “It doesn’t matter. I'm just surprised to see it is all. I loved this show when I was younger.”

“Is it any good?” He asks.

You look to the side, thinking about it. You settle on: “Define good.”

His forehead wrinkles, mouth falling slightly open. “Did you…enjoy watching it?”

“Define enjoy.”

“Okay, forget I asked.” He sighs and goes back to the kitchen.

When he returns a few minutes later, floor pretzels in the trash and counter pretzels swept into the bowl, you’re already watching the first episode.

“This your choice?” He asks. You take the bowl in your lap and he settles down next to you, his arm wrapping around your waist.

“Definitely not. Just wanted to reminisce until you got back.” You frown at the bowl. “Where are all the pretzels?”

He chuckles. “That’s what you get for screaming. Dropped ‘em on the floor.”

You pout. “I didn’t scream. I was surprised. Now the ratio’s off, there’s not enough saltiness to balance the sweetness.”

“Poor baby,” he croons sarcastically. “Only getting a quarter bag of pretzels ‘stead of a full.”

You were going to switch the television to a movie you both liked, but you spent the entire first episode bickering about the important role each ingredient plays in, what you call, “The Party Mix Experience”. The next episode auto-played on its own, and you let it.

During the second episode, you and Jason were absorbed in a competition to see who could catch more flying popcorn pieces in their mouth (Jason), which then devolved into seeing who could dodge more popcorn kernels thrown to the face (also Jason).

By the beginning of episode three, you settled into meaningless chatter while paying half-hearted attention to the TV screen, and by the end, you were laid out on the couch, head in Jason’s lap, while you scrolled on your phone and he stroked your hair. You drifted to a light sleep, coaxed by his fingers scratching at your scalp. 

When you wake from your nap, there’s a blanket draped over you and Jason’s hand is still settled in your hair. You push yourself up to sit beside him, speaking through a yawn. “How long was I asleep?”

Jason adjusts the blanket so it covers both of you. “Um…I dunno. Three episodes, maybe.”

“You’re still watching,” you remark, as the end credits for episode six begin to roll.

He says nothing. You both stare as the auto-play timer for the next episode counts down. Next to the remote, his fingers twitch.

You purse your lips, suppressing a grin. “You know, there’s quite an online community for people who like this show.”

“Ha. Were you part of it?” He muses.

“Yup. And I deserve a medal of valor for my time in those trenches.” You kiss his cheek and stand up, stretching your arms. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he says. His voice is low and gravelly with weariness.

You turn toward the bedroom when a call of your name stops you.

“Is it just me, or is something goin’ on between the red guy and the blue guy?”

“Oh, honey,” you sigh. It’s loud and pitying. You bend down to cup his cheek and draw him in for a kiss. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Babe!” He yells after you as you disappear into the bedroom. “You didn’t answer my question!”

iii.

It’s only a Hallmark movie, but with how he’s reacting, it might as well be six hours of paint drying. Jason is not eager to spend his night watching some boring, formulaic cliché, but it's late and you don't have anything better to do.

“That is absolutely not true,” he says when you counter his protests with this excuse.

“It’s two o’clock in the morning, Jay. Is there anything else to do, except sleep?” You rub your tired eyes. Both of you could use some sleep but, burrowed as you are under a pile of blankets, moving all the way from the couch to the bed seems impossible.

He leans in close, lips brushing against your ear. “I can think of a few things.”

His warm breath tickles your neck, and you feel a shiver despite the heat you’ve conserved in your little blanket burrito. The faintest of kisses is pressed behind your ear, and his eyes glint with familiar mischief when he pulls back.

You brush him off, rolling your eyes in amusement. “Do any of those things involve flannel-wearing farmer hunks or the True Meaning of Christmas?”

Turning back to the television, you take the remote from his hands, catching the tail end of a disgruntled mumble about how ‘I can buy a flannel…’

He grumbles a few more complaints during the movie’s first act (‘he’s not even that hunky’) before you scold him to silence. Once he’s quieted, and you settle more comfortably into him, your head is nestled securely in the crook of his shoulder with arms wrapped around his bicep. The warmth of him has you fighting against the tempting call of REM. Right around when the independent, successful, businesswoman protagonist discovers the handsome, flannel-clad man who helped repair her car is also the single father who runs an honest family business, you start to drift off, falling asleep amid thoughts of wearing plaid in the countryside.

You open your eyes to find yourself standing in a vast, open field. 

Thump. Thump.

It’s unclear where the sound is coming from, but a splash of red in your periphery stands out. You turn; there’s a barn off in the distance.

Thump.

Your legs carry you in its direction. Growing closer by the second, the thumping sound echoes louder in your ears. When you round the corner of the structure, the front doors are propped wide open by cement blocks, and bales of hay are stacked outside the doors. A large figure, whose back is to you, is lugging a bale by its straps. He hauls it onto his shoulder, and his shirtsleeves tighten around his thick arms. He brings it to the barn, tossing it onto a pile of more hay bales. It lands with that same thump.

When he turns around, it’s in slow motion.

The sleeves of his plaid flannel are rolled up his arms, exposing his large, veiny forearms. Under the flannel, he sports a simple white t-shirt, jeans, and work boots that give him an extra inch of height. His face and chest are shiny with sweat, and his shirt is soaked through. He holds a toothpick between gritted teeth.

It’s Jason. In a cowboy hat.

He takes off his hat and runs a hand through his hair. Its dampness makes it stay slicked back rather than settling into its usual shape where little curls are always falling over his eyes. Then, he sees you. A slow, sly grin spreads across his face. He puts his hat back on and removes the toothpick so he can speak.

“Hey there, little lady,” he drawls lazily, the Gotham accent you’re so accustomed to replaced with a southern twang. It does something to you that you’re a little embarrassed to admit. He looks you up and down, pausing above your knee for a split second before continuing.

“Hi,” you say, averting your gaze from where it had zeroed in on a droplet of sweat running down his neck. Your face burns redder than his beautifully sun-kissed cheeks.

He chuckles. “You jus’ gonna stand there or you gonna lend a hand? Compost ain’t gonna turn itself.”

He easily hauls up another bale, and you follow him into the barn.

You watch as he shirks it onto the pile, then repeats with the remaining few bales. He seems to forget you’re standing there as he gets so absorbed in his work, expression tightening in focus. You lean on the wooden post behind you and soak it in; every sound, every flexed muscle, every display of firm strength has you feeling like the air has been punched out of you. He carries the final bale into the barn and his low grunt as he throws it off his shoulder has a swooning sigh escape you. It catches his attention.

Your chest tightens in embarrassment as he prowls closer. He leans over you, hand against the wooden post right above your head. With him this close, a smattering of freckles is visible over the bridge of his nose, likely due to all the sun exposure. Huffing and sweaty, his eyes drag down your face and stop at your mouth. He swallows hard, and his Adam’s apple bobs up and down.

He lifts his free hand to trace over the thin strap of your top. His fingers ghost over the skin, barely touching. “This is pretty,” he says, voice low. “What’s a pretty girl like you doin’ all the way out here?”

And you just can’t help it anymore. You lurch up to him, desperate to close the space between you. You kiss him hard, and he kisses you back, his hand rising from your shoulder to grip the side of your neck. His thumb brushes your jaw, and your hands grip the material of his flannel, yanking it down to bring him even closer. You pull him against you so roughly that your head bumps the post behind you from the force. He smirks, teasing, into the kiss as his hand comes to cup the back of your head.

“Easy, sweetheart. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” After getting his fill from your lips, he slowly graces a path to your neck, kissing, licking, and nipping as he goes. His relaxed leisure perfectly juxtaposes your frantic hunger for him.

You grip his face and pull his mouth back to yours, kissing him with even more fervor. You take his bottom lip between your teeth, biting down with little care for gentleness, and tug at the skin. He groans, and it rumbles deep in his throat. You soothe the spot with your tongue, and your eyes roll back into your head at the salty taste of his skin. As his tongue slides between your lips, he removes the hand that’s leaning onto the post and settles it on the skin of your thigh. It drags upward, feeling every inch of skin on his fingertips before disappearing under the hem of your skirt. At the same time, your hands slide down his body. His touch explores higher, and yours slips under his shirt to ground yourself on the hard skin of his abdomen, which has become slick with sweat.

The sound you make is debauched, coming from the deepest recesses of your stomach. He pulls back, wearing a cheeky smile. He opens his mouth to speak and says—

“Wait, what the fuck?”

You jerk awake. Jason is yelling.

“Why would you go with him?” He exclaims at the TV, and then turns to exclaim to you, “Why would she go with him?”

You stare at him, agape, trying to process your surroundings and asking yourself what just happened.

“Shit. Were you asleep?” Jason puts his outrage on hold.

You nod. “Yeah— yes.” Your voice comes out scratchy and hollow. “I was.”

“Sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to wake you up,” he says. His eyebrows furrow. “Are you hot?”

“What?”

“You look warm.” He presses the back of his hand to your flushed neck. “Is it too many blankets?”

Though his hand is cool, you feel even warmer, the image of his hand gripping that same spot of your neck flashing through your mind.

“I’m…good,” you say. “I think I’ll go to bed.” You dig yourself out of the shell of blankets and stand, but he doesn’t follow.

“Oh.” Jason glances at the TV, which is still in a commercial break. “You— did you want me to come?”

You don’t know what to say.

“The, uh…” He runs a hand through his hair, and you have to stifle a gasp. “The guy from her successful city life tracked her down to the small town to get back together. She said yes.” Then he sighs, sounding genuinely distressed. “There’s no way they’d end it like that, right? He was awful to her!”

At this, you crack a smile. “Do you want to finish the movie, Jason?” A hint of satisfaction seeps into your tone.

He clears his throat. “…Maybe.”

You plop back down on the couch with a hum. He interlaces your fingers and kisses the back of your hand before redirecting his attention to the screen.

“Babe?” You ask.

“Hm?” He answers, not looking away from the movie.

“Do you own any flannels?”

SAVE A HORSE RIDE A COWBOYYYYYYY

love when u leave messages and feedback it feeds my praise kink

for part one: cut to me sitting up in bed shrugging my shoulders over and over again to see which muscles it uses and if that coincides with the injuries i gave him to see if that action causing him pain makes sense (it was inconclusive so i made his injuries vague oopsie)

for part two: the bourne identity (2002) is a movie about a guy named jason who wakes up not knowing where or who he is and somehow has elite training in combat and surveillance, though he doesn't know where it's from. he runs around functioning on pure instinct to survive while getting bits of his memory back, remembering that whoever he worked for was cutthroat, expected him to obey no matter what, and forget the person he used to be before joining their mission. sound familiar?

for part three: cut to me genuinely tweaking while proofreading bc i let my friend read it and so rereading it, knowing that she read it, was so embarrassing. i was screaming into my pillow & it took 20 minutes to get through 2k words bc i had to keep taking breaks. not an exaggeration

If any of you saw me change the theme of my masterlist 5 times yesterday only to change it back to what it was before…no you didn’t

[404creep]

Breaking The Ice (Judd Birch X Jessi Glaser Older! Sister Reader)

Summary: You and Judd have been in school together since elementary school.

This is kind of related to the drabble I put out a long time ago. Lots of people have been reading that and asking for new Judd content so I figured I’d pause of my Simon Riley series to write this. Hope ya’ll like it. May do a second part from Judd’s perspective and then a third chapter showing them actually getting together if this gets enough interaction. As always if you see any errors….no you didn’t.

If she was being honest with herself (and she really did try to be, more often than not) she hadn’t noticed Judd Birch at first.

Back in elementary school, he was background noise. Just another name on the attendance sheet, another kid kicking gravel at recess. Maybe she could’ve picked his face out of a lineup if she squinted, but probably not. He wasn’t loud, but he wasn’t exactly shy either. He didn’t blend in so much as linger around the edges, watching with that half-lidded stare that made him look way too tired for a third grader. Like he was already over it. Like he was clocking every detail and filing it away somewhere private.

And she hadn’t noticed him noticing her.

Not until middle school, anyway. That’s when he started showing up.

He’d gotten tall. Fast. In that awkward, almost unsettling way boys do, like his limbs were rebelling against the concept of symmetry. There was something off about him: sharp angles, quiet intensity, a kind of stillness that didn’t match the usual chaos of the Birch household. His eyes lingered too long. Not creepy. Just… focused. Like he was studying people. Measuring them.

She didn’t like how often she caught him looking.

When Jessi said she was hanging out with Judd’s little brother, Nick, she’d braced for weird. It had to run in the family, right?

But Nick was… different.

Nick was a completely different beast. Loud, messy, always in motion. He talked with his whole body. He wanted to be liked. Judd didn’t seem to care if anyone liked him at all. If Nick was the show, Judd was the curtain. The frame. There, but apart. Not unwelcome. Just… separate.

It was kind of wild how the Birch family didn’t try to fix him. They didn’t ignore him, either. He wasn’t the black sheep, he was just a part of the herd that did his own thing. Like maybe being weird wasn’t something to outgrow. Just something to be nurtured. Even if no one really understood it.

Then came freshman year. Biology class.

They got paired up. Not by choice. She still remembered how he looked at her when their names were called: like he already knew it was going to happen. Like the universe was playing along with something only he could see.

He loved dissections. Frogs, fetal pigs, anything with guts. His eyes lit up in this completely unhinged way, and it was honestly a little terrifying. So she took over the paperwork. It was better than having him hover while she tried not to stab herself with a scalpel.

And weirdly? It worked. They worked. Efficient. Surprisingly chill. He didn’t talk much, but when he did, it caught her off guard. Sharp thoughts, quiet voice, that same too-long stare.

She never knew what to say back. But she wanted to.

By sophomore year, he was gone. Different classes. Different hallways. That thing they had (whatever it was) just kind of faded.

Until she started driving.

She’d just gotten her license, and that came with the responsibility of driving her sister around. Which meant dropping her off and picking her up from the Birch house. Most of the time she sat in the car, engine running, scrolling on her phone or staring out the windshield. But sometimes (too many times for it to be random) Judd came outside instead.

And he never said hi like a normal person.

One day it was, “I’m training raccoons to freak out Nick.” Another time he asked if she wanted drugs, deadpan, like it was a casual Tuesday hobby.

She always laughed. Because he was ridiculous. Because it felt like he wanted her to laugh. Because deep down, she kind of liked how absurd it all was. Like he was throwing her a test, just to see if she’d flinch.

It wasn’t flirting. Not really.

But it wasn’t nothing either.

It was… weirdly electric. Like every conversation was a sequel to one they’d never actually had. He’d stand there, blue dyed hair and deadpanned eyes, looking like the rules didn’t apply to him. And she’d cross her arms and pretend not to care. Pretend she wasn’t waiting for whatever he’d say next.

Maybe it didn’t mean anything.

But sometimes he looked at her like it did. Like she was supposed to understand something he hadn’t said out loud yet.

And she hated how much she wanted to.

Then there was that Friday. Late October. Cold air, crunchy leaves, the kind of day that made everything feel just a little closer, a little slower. Jessi was taking forever inside, probably still talking. Judd stepped out onto the porch.

No greeting. Just, “I’ve been designing suits for the raccoons. Little vests. One of them’s getting a bow tie.”

She blinked. Let it sit for a beat. Then said, “Are they unionized yet, or are you still exploiting their labor?”

He lit up.

Not just in his eyes. His whole face. Like something switched on inside him.

And then he smiled.

A real one.

Not a smirk. Not a twitch of the mouth. A full, open, stupidly soft smile. Or at least as soft as Judd Birch could smile.

“Working on a healthcare plan,” he said. “But they’re terrible at filling out paperwork.”

It was ridiculous. Absolutely unhinged. Probably the weirdest conversation she’d ever had.

And she grinned the whole drive home, Jessi was too busy on her phone to notice.

[undersugarnights]

A Flower Bud In Concrete

✦ MDNI — 18+ Only ✦

✧ pairing: ashton irwin x hemmings!reader

✧ summary: a surprising reaction to a negative pregnancy test has you and ashton discovering some new kinks.

✧ warnings: absolute filth be warned, heavy breeding kink, dirty talk, slight oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, cum play, fingering, hair pulling, choking, mentions of COVID-19

✧ word count: 5.9k

✧ title: more — by Halsey

✧ author’s note: LAWD it’s about damn fucking time i write for ashton. the things i would let him do to me YOU DON’T GET IT. anyway this is absolutely the filthiest thing i have ever written and i love it. huge thank you to a special someone for helping me out with this — your filthy brain never ceases to amaze me. hope you guys enjoy some filthy quarantine (post?) smut with black haired ashton because i loved writing it.

also, this was inspired by @souperbloom and their AMAZING ashton blurb “island time” which you NEED to read.

Copyright © 2025 undersugarnights. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The word messy didn’t even begin to describe your life. It was almost comical, the way everything had derailed so quickly—like the universe had yanked the rug out from under you, leaving you to scramble in the aftermath.

Your mind spun as you sat in your car, staring at the unopened test on the passenger seat. The small box seemed to glare back at you, taunting you with the weight of fear it carried. Just looking at it made your stomach churn, flashes of a future you didn’t dare let yourself imagine creeping into your thoughts. You shoved them away just as quickly, refusing to let yourself hope for something that felt so far out of reach.

Your phone sat untouched on your lap, the weight of it somehow heavier than it should have been. You hadn’t even pulled out of the driveway yet, but the thought of what you were about to do made you want to retreat into the safety of your car forever. With shaky hands, you picked it up, your fingers hovering over the screen before you numbly dialed the number you dreaded.

Ashton, of course, didn’t take long to answer. He picked up on the second ring, his voice bright and cheerful as always. “Hey, Y/N,” he greeted, the smile in his tone almost palpable. “Didn’t think I’d hear from you today. You coming over? ‘Cause if so, I should probably clean—”

“You don’t have to clean up anything,” you interrupted, your voice sharper than you intended as you bit down on your bottom lip. You stared at your lap, the words you needed to say catching in your throat. Finally, you forced them out. “I have a test… I’m late. And, uh, I figured I should be with you when I figure out why.”

The other end of the line went silent, the lack of response from Ashton tightening the knot of stress already coiled in your chest. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, waiting, the quiet stretching unbearably.

“Does Luke know?” he asked at last, clearing his throat as if trying to sound casual.

You shut your eyes, frustration flaring at the mention of your little brother. “Why the hell would he know if he has no idea about us?”

“Right, right,” Ashton groaned, his tone sheepish. There was a pause before he continued, softer now. “Okay, well… I’ll see you soon, alright? You’ll take the test, and we’ll figure it out from there. Just like we always do.”

His voice was so kind, so gentle and reassuring that you could almost cry. “Okay,” you agreed, your voice barely above a whisper as you let out the breath you had been holding.

“Don’t sweat it, babe,” he reassured, the nickname falling off his lips without any hesitation. It sounded almost natural, and it definitely made your stomach tighten. “Everything will be fine.”

You frowned, looking out your window and taking in the relatively sunny day. “Yeah, I guess so,” you mumbled. “I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”

Ashton shifted in the other line. “Drive safe.”

The call hung up with a soft click after that, leaving you once again in anxious silence. You threw your head back against the seat, letting out a long, defeated sigh as your hands came up to grip the wheel.

You first met Ashton when he was just a scrawny kid with hair that swooped over his eyes—your little brother’s annoying friend. Despite being only a year older than him, his friendship with Luke made him feel much younger in your eyes.

When your acting career started taking off, you didn’t give Ashton—or anyone else from those days—much thought. At least, not until their cute little YouTube covers got discovered and their band skyrocketed to fame. Thanks to your close relationship with Luke, you began seeing more of his bandmates.

Ashton always lingered a little closer than the others, his nervous energy unmistakable. The rest of the boys treated you like their older sister—occasionally annoying, but familiar and comfortable. It was obvious Ashton’s feelings were different, but you never dwelled on it.

Not when you met Daniel. He was everything you thought you wanted—kind, charming, and effortlessly sweet. You’d been hesitant at first, unsure if your feelings would match his, but he quickly swept you off your feet.

For nearly five years, the two of you were happy together. Everyone in your life adored him—even Jack, who could be overbearing at times, warmed to him easily.

He was everything to you, his smile brighter than the sun itself. Daniel had shown you a new side of life, filling it with warmth and the promise of forever. But promises are fragile things, and eventually, he broke his—leaving you shattered and alone to gather the pieces of your broken heart.

As if that wasn’t enough, the world began to crumble around you. Whispers of a new illness dominated every conversation, and soon enough, isolation became your reality. Alone in your home, with no one for company but your own thoughts, you struggled to hold on. Work had slowed to a crawl, and seeing friends was too risky.

Ashton had always been the kind of person who would give you the shirt off his back without hesitation. His compassion extended to everyone in his orbit, always checking in to make sure they were okay. So when your phone lit up with his call, something inside you broke.

You poured your heart out, tears spilling as he listened to every word of your pain. He let you cry, soothing you with soft words and a patient ear. You felt terrible about it—he’d only been calling to check in out of kindness, not to become a makeshift therapist.

You apologized over and over, feeling guilty for taking up his time, insisting that what you really needed was professional help. But Ashton wouldn’t hear of it. He reassured you, his voice firm yet gentle, that it was no trouble at all. “I’m happy to listen,” he said. And you believed him.

That’s how it started—a strange kind of pen-pal relationship born out of quarantine. It became rare for you not to be on the phone with Ashton. What began as conversations about Daniel and your heartbreak gradually turned into something lighter. You talked about life, movies you’d seen, and the places you’d go when the world opened up again.

One night, during one of your usual calls, Ashton said something that made your breath hitch. His voice, normally so confident, was uncharacteristically shy.

“Yeah, so… basically,” he started, hesitating for a moment. “I only called you. At first, anyway. I was bored out of my mind, sitting in the house with nothing to do. And—I don’t know—I just found myself dialing your number. I’m glad I did.”

That confession had shifted something inside you. Ashton—who had always just been Ashton—suddenly became something else entirely. You started noticing the little things: the way his cheeks dimpled when he smiled, how a stray black curl would occasionally fall over his face, or the intense focus in his eyes when he drummed.

When restrictions eased, your friendship transitioned from FaceTime calls to in-person hangouts. Being around Ashton felt surprisingly effortless. He had a way of calming your nerves with a joke or a warm smile, and sometimes, you couldn’t help but notice how his touch lingered just a little longer than necessary.

One night, the two of you got carried away, talking late into the night.

“Shit,” you groaned, glancing at the time on your phone. “It’s so late.”

Ashton just smiled, shifting closer to you on the sofa. His eyes were red from the blunt you’d shared earlier, but they still sparkled with that familiar brightness. “So stay,” he said casually. “I don’t see why you should go.”

The thought of returning to your lonely house made your stomach sink. Staying with Ashton, basking in the warmth of his company, felt like the only right choice. But one thing was clear: if you stayed, if your eyes kept flicking to his lips, you would do something you might regret.

And you told him that.

Maybe it was the weed loosening your tongue, or maybe it was the way Ashton looked so unfairly good in his old muscle tee and shorts, but the words spilled out before you could stop them.

To your surprise, Ashton’s lips curved into a slow, teasing smirk. “What if I want you to?” he murmured, leaning impossibly closer. His hand lifted to your face, his fingers lightly tracing along your jaw and down your neck. His eyes never left yours, their intensity making your heart race.

So you gave into your innermost desires and kissed him. And he kissed you back.

The next thing you knew, you were a tangle of limbs on the carpet, the crackling fire casting shadows of your moving bodies across the room as muffled moans filled the space.

That’s how it started—how your unconventional relationship began. You’d made it clear from the beginning that you wanted to take things slow, unsure if moving on from Daniel so soon was the right decision. You and Ashton agreed to keep things casual for now, just hooking up and seeing where it led.

Another mutual decision was to keep your arrangement private—especially from Luke. Your little brother had always been harmless, and you weren’t worried he’d be angry about your relationship with Ashton. But you didn’t want to get his hopes up either. Luke would’ve been over the moon if he found out his best friend and his sister were together, so until you both were certain about where this was headed, Luke would remain in the dark.

For a few months, it worked seamlessly. Life had started to regain a semblance of normalcy as the year drew to a close. That was until your period decided to throw you a curveball.

The drive to Ashton’s place was filled with anxious thoughts and worst-case scenarios playing on a loop in your mind. By the time you pulled up to his house, your hands were clammy from gripping the steering wheel, and the box of pregnancy tests in your lap felt heavier than it should.

You rang the doorbell, clutching the box tightly as if it were a lifeline. Ashton took a few seconds to answer, but when he opened the door, his warm smile melted a fraction of your fear.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he greeted, pulling you in by the waist and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. His easy affection steadied you, if only for a moment.

“Hey, Ash,” you murmured, your voice barely audible against his lips. Pulling back slightly, you met his gaze, searching for any sign of unease or irritation. All you found was concern and affection in his hazel eyes.

Ashton frowned, his hand coming up to cradle your face. His thumb brushed gently across your cheekbone, and he gave you that signature reassuring smile. “Go take the test. Whatever it says, we’ll figure it out together.”

You let out a shaky breath, leaning forward to rest your head against his chest. For a moment, you allowed yourself to stay there, wrapped in the safety of his arms, wishing you could freeze time and keep the weight of reality at bay.

But you couldn’t hide forever. Reluctantly, you pulled back, giving him a weak, trembling smile. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

“I’ll see you on the other side, Y/N,” Ashton replied with a small nod, his voice steady as he let you go.

With your heart pounding, you walked to the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. You avoided your reflection in the mirror, unwilling to face the physical manifestation of your nerves.

Hands shaking, you unwrapped the first test and let out a deep, uneven sigh. The whole thing felt absurdly humiliating—peeing on a stick to determine the course of your future. In another situation, you might have laughed at the ridiculousness of it all.

But this wasn’t that kind of moment.

You capped the test and placed it on the sink, refusing to look at it as the seconds ticked by and the result formed. There was no use in dwelling on it, or stalling the results, so with a deep breath, you reached out and shakily grabbed the test.

Not pregnant.

The words were blunt and stark, staring back at you with an unrelenting certainty. Yet, a sudden surge of denial hit you. That couldn’t be possible, could it?

You had expected relief to come with those two words, but it didn’t. Instead, tears pricked at your eyes, and you slumped onto the closed toilet seat, unable to tear your gaze away from the test in your trembling hand.

How insane did you have to be to feel sad over a negative pregnancy test? The thought rattled in your mind as a quiet sob escaped your lips.

You had always wanted kids—or at least one. The idea of becoming a mother had been a dream you carried for as long as you could remember. It was a dream that had, in part, torn your relationship with Daniel to shreds. He had made it abundantly clear he didn’t want kids, especially not when you and he had faced a similar predicament.

But you did. You wanted one with everything in you.

Your chest tightened as you shut your eyes tightly, trying to push away the ache clawing at your heart. Maybe it was for the best, you told yourself. After all, you and Ashton hadn’t even defined the status of your relationship. You hadn’t dared to dream of having that kind of conversation, let alone one about kids.

Still, the weight of disappointment was unbearable as you wiped your face and mustered the strength to walk out of the bathroom. Ashton was standing a few feet away, leaning against the wall, nervously biting his nails.

His gaze snapped to you the moment you appeared, his body straightening as he pushed off the wall. He looked tense, his brows slightly furrowed, his hands fidgeting.

“Well?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly with the anxiety he was trying to mask.

You bit your lip, forcing yourself to keep any trace of emotion out of your voice. “I’m not pregnant,” you said evenly, squaring your shoulders as you met his eyes.

For a moment, Ashton’s expression softened, something flickering across his face that you couldn’t quite place. But then, to your utter surprise, you caught a glimpse of disappointment.

Your eyebrows shot up in shock as you instinctively crossed your arms over your chest, your protective wall snapping into place.

“Let’s have a kid,” Ashton breathed, the words tumbling out as if he hadn’t thought twice. His eyes locked onto yours, wide and earnest, his tone full of sincerity.

You drew in a sharp breath, blinking rapidly, your mind struggling to process what he’d just said. There was no way he could possibly mean it.

“Ashton,” you said incredulously, your tone laced with disbelief, “we just lost our shit thinking I might be pregnant. And besides”—your voice rose slightly as your confusion gave way to frustration—“we’re not even together. Not really.”

Ashton shook his head, closing the distance between you in a few determined strides. His hands cupped your face, his breath warm and slightly uneven. “We are now,” he murmured, an excited gleam lighting up his hazel eyes. “So let’s have a kid. You and me.”

For a moment, you were frozen, staring at him in stunned disbelief. This had to be some kind of sick joke. Who in their right mind would randomly decide to have a baby on a whim—especially with someone they were just casually hooking up with?

But then again, there had never been anything truly casual about you and Ashton. Not the way his touch lingered, how his kisses felt like promises, or how his presence made everything seem softer, lighter, easier. It had always been more than either of you admitted aloud.

His gaze stayed locked on yours, wide and earnest, as if begging you to say yes.

“You were freaking out,” you whispered, though the fight had already left your voice. Deep down, you were searching for any sign that Ashton might back out of this sudden decision, that he might have second thoughts.

Instead, he just shrugged, his lips curving into a soft, hopeful smile. “I was,” he admitted. “But then I started thinking—I love you, Y/N. I always have, and I always will. And even though this isn’t the most conventional way, I’d love to make something real with you. And that something?” His voice dropped, full of quiet conviction. “It definitely involves a baby.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your brows furrowing as you tried to process his words. Who in their right mind would agree to this?

Apparently, that someone was you.

“Okay,” you said, your voice soft but steady, a spark of excitement rising to the surface and chasing away your fear. “Let’s have a baby.”

Ashton’s face lit up with pure, unfiltered joy. He let out a triumphant whoop, his hands moving to your waist as he lifted you effortlessly, spinning you in the air. Laughter bubbled out of you, breathless and giddy, as the weight of uncertainty slipped away, replaced by something far more exhilarating.

“I love you too,” you mumbled breathlessly as Ashton set you down gently. You were still giddy, your mind flashing with images of your possible new future. Your hands came up to Ashton’s shoulders, watching him.

His hands lingered at your waist for a second, his eyes softening even more. His smile was radiant, lighting up the room, and he looked almost boyish. Your heart swelled in your chest as you looked at him.

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” you breathed, nervous laughter bubbling up inside you. “We’re really going to do this?”

Ashton laughed, leaning his forehead against yours. “We’re doing this,” he confirmed, his voice sure and steady. He brought his hand up to cup your face, his thumb briefly brushing over your bottom lip. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

A faint blush krept up your cheeks, the words lighting a fire inside you that was almost surprising in its intensity. You should have been scared, after all, your life was going to forever be altered, but it was exhilarating.

”What now?” you asked softly, your fingers absentmindedly brushing through Ashton's hair. The jet-black color suited him far more than you wanted to admit, and the sight of him like this-confident, certain, and utterly yours-sent a thrill down your spine. “Where do we even start?”

Ashton's eyes darkened, his lips curving into a devilish smirk as his gaze locked with yours. “We start by making that baby, of course,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. The playful elation in his tone had shifted, replaced by something deeper, more primal.

The heat in his voice sent a shiver racing through you, and you swallowed hard, excitement and nerves dancing in your chest.

Ashton didn't wait for you to respond. Instead, he closed the distance between you in a heartbeat, capturing your lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle.

It was demanding and all-consuming, leaving no room for second-guessing. His arms tightened around your waist, holding you flush against him as his lips moved against yours with practiced skill. You melted into his touch, your hands threading into his hair, tugging just enough to elicit a low groan from him.

Ashton coaxed your lips open with teasing nips and soft bites, his tongue sweeping over yours, tasting you like he couldn't get enough. A muffled moan escaped you as you felt him lift you effortlessly, his grip firm but careful as he carried you through the room.

The world tilted slightly, and before you could process where he was taking you, your back met the cool surface of the kitchen counter. You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, smirking as your eyes met his. “The kitchen, Ash? Can't even wait until the bedroom?”

“Too far,” he murmured against your lips, his voice husky with need. “Need you now.”

Before you could respond, you heard the unmistakable sound of fabric tearing. Your jaw dropped as you looked down to see your shirt now hanging in shreds, the pieces slipping from your shoulders. “Ashton!” you gasped, half-laughing, half-scolding. “You ripped my shirt!”

He pulled back briefly, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. “It was mine first,” he said nonchalantly, his mouth returning to your neck to leave a trail of kisses. “You can steal another one later.”

You couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled out of you, though it quickly turned into a sharp gasp when his lips found that sensitive spot just below your ear, making your breath hitch. His hands roamed your body freely, sliding up your back to unclasp your bra with practiced ease.

When his calloused hands cupped your breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze, a soft groan escaped your lips. Ashton took it as encouragement, his fingers teasing your nipple. His mouth followed soon after, trailing hot kisses down your chest before capturing your nipple between his lips.

Your head fell back as he gently nipped at it with his teeth, a moan spilling from you.

Meanwhile, his other hand began its slow descent down your stomach, stopping at the waistband of your shorts. “God, you're gonna look so pretty, all full of my cum,” he growled against your skin, tugging the fabric of your shorts down your legs.

Ashton's mouth continued its heated journey down your body, every inch of you humming with anticipation. The thought of him finishing inside you sent a thrill through you that you couldn't deny, and as he kissed along your stomach, pausing at your hip bone, you couldn't tear your eyes away from him.

When he looked up, his hazel eyes were dark and glassy with lust. His teeth caught the edge of your underwear, and you let out a soft gasp as he began to pull them down, agonizingly slow.

Ashton let your underwear fall to the floor, his hands gentle as he spread your thighs apart. His lips parted slightly as he took in the sight of you, laid out on the kitchen counter, wet and glistening just for him. “Fuck, baby,” he groaned, quickly yanking off his sweater and tossing it somewhere in the room without a second thought.

His hands slid up your thighs with deliberate slowness, his touch sending shivers through your body. He traced a single finger along your folds, biting his lip as he collected your arousal. “You're so pretty for me,” he murmured, voice husky. “Such a pretty pussy.”

When his finger slipped inside you, a sharp gasp escaped your lips, and your back arched off the counter instinctively. Heat flooded through you as he added a second finger, curling them just right, finding that spot inside you with practiced precision. A loud moan spilled from your throat, your body trembling under his touch.

His lips found your neck, sucking and biting the sensitive skin, marking you without hesitation. “Since we're telling everyone we're together now,” he murmured between kisses, his breath hot against your skin, “I'm gonna make sure they know. You're mine.”

“I'm yours,” you whimpered, your voice breathless and needy as his fingers sped up, your legs shaking with the intensity of it all. If he kept this up, you wouldn't last much longer.

Ashton hummed in satisfaction, his lips curving into a smile against your neck.“That's right, baby. You're mine. Gonna fill you up to the brim, put a baby inside you. Isn't that right, pretty?”

You nodded frantically, tugging at his hair for something to ground yourself. His words only spurred you on, the heat in your core building to a fever pitch. But just as you were about to tip over the edge, he withdrew his fingers, leaving you empty and desperate.

A frustrated whine escaped your lips as you propped yourself up on your elbows, ready to protest. But your words died in your throat when you saw Ashton hastily kicking off his jeans.

When he pulled down his black boxers, freeing himself, your eyes widened. You had been with Ashton countless times, but he had never looked so painfully hard. His cock stood thick and ready, the tip an angry shade of red, glistening with his own arousal.

Before you could fully process the sight before you, Ashton's hands were on your hips, pulling you off the counter. He gave you no chance to protest, spinning you around and bending you over the cold surface.

“You're gonna take all of me,” Ashton growled, his voice low and commanding as he lined himself up with you. “And you're gonna love every second of it. Be a good girl for me. Good girls get my cum.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, and your hands gripped the edge of the counter so hard your knuckles turned white. “I’ll be a good girl,” you gasped, your voice trembling with desperation. “Please, Ash. I want you to fill me up. Please.”

A smirk played on his lips as his hand slid around your waist and down between your legs, his fingers expertly teasing your clit.

The sensation sent shockwaves through you, making your knees buckle slightly. Your moans grew louder as Ashton ran the tip of his cock along your entrance, the teasing driving you to the brink.

“Beg for it, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice dripping with dominance, his fingers working you mercilessly. Every nerve in your body was alight, your need for him consuming every thought.

“Please,” you cried, your voice breaking into a small sob. “I need you, Ash. Fill me up, stretch me out, put a baby in me—please, I'm begging you.”

Ashton groaned low in his throat at your words, his control slipping as he finally pushed into you, slow and deliberate. “That's my good girl,” he rasped, his grip on your waist tightening as he buried himself inside you inch by inch. “And you're gonna take every single bit of me, aren't you?”

The stretch of Ashton finally filling you up was overwhelming, nearly enough to tip you over the edge instantly. You didn't know how you'd gotten so worked up, but as he buried himself to the hilt, the sensation was so intense tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” you whimpered, your voice trembling. Ashton's hand trailed up your back, settling around the back of your neck, his grip firm but not overwhelming.

“Yeah? You like being stretched out like this?” he rasped, his voice thick with arousal, his hips unmoving as he stayed buried deep. “You're so fucking tight, baby. You feel so good wrapped around me. I'm gonna come so hard for you, so deep.”

A soft whimper escaped your lips, your frustration building as Ashton still refused to move. His free hand roamed down your body, squeezing your hip before pulling back and landing a sharp slap on your ass.

The sting sent a jolt through your body, making you clench around him involuntarily. Ashton groaned low in his throat, the sound deep and guttural. “God, I wish you could see yourself right now,” he muttered, smirking as he delivered another sharp smack to your ass. This time, the moan that escaped you was loud and unrestrained. “So pretty, bent over a counter for me, taking me so well.”

You nodded eagerly, your eyes squeezed shut, every nerve in your body focused on the feeling of Ashton filling you. “You're so warm,” he groaned, his hips shifting just slightly. “I need to hear you. Every gasp, every moan— want it all. If you hold back from me, baby, you'll regret it. Got it?”

The threat sent a shiver down your spine. His earlier promise not to finish inside you if you misbehaved hung heavy in your mind, the thought alone making your chest tighten with desperation. “Fuck me,” you begged, your voice shaky and whiny. “Please, Ash, just move already.”

Ashton let out a low chuckle, dark and taunting. “So needy, aren't you, sweetheart?” he teased, his words dripping with smug amusement. Before you could respond, he pulled out of you slowly, the sensation drawing a loud moan from your lips.

“Don't whine,” he chided, his tone sharp but playful. “You're gonna take what I give you.”

But mercifully, Ashton seemed to decide your torture had gone on long enough. On his next thrust, he pulled out almost completely before slamming back into you, the sudden force stealing the air from your lungs. A yelp tore from your throat as his hand tightened in your hair, pulling your head back slightly.

Ashton set a punishing rhythm, his hips slapping against yours with every thrust. The lewd sound of your bodies colliding filled the room, mingling with your loud, uncontrollable moans. The delicious friction he created with each movement made your legs shake, the intensity overwhelming.

“That's it, good girl,” Ashton purred, his voice dripping with approval. “You take me so well. Can't wait till you're all round and pretty for me,”he murmured, his thrusts growing harder, more deliberate. “All mine. My perfect little cum slut.”

The possessive tone in his voice made your entire body shudder. His hand tugged at your hair again, pulling you upright and flush against his chest. His other hand slid up to knead your breasts, his fingers tweaking and teasing your nipples as he continued to thrust into you relentlessly.

One hand slowly slid up to your neck, wrapping around it gently before applying just enough pressure to make your head spin. The dizziness only heightened the pleasure coursing through you, amplifying every sensation.

But Ashton didn't hold for long. His hand eased away, and your hearing slowly returned as you gasped for breath. He released your nipple and pushed you back down onto the counter, his voice low and rough. “So fucking perfect,” he groaned, his fingers tangling in your hair again, using it for leverage as he pounded into you harder.

The heat of his movements, his filthy words, and the way he dominated every inch of your body brought you closer and closer to the edge. Your moans and whimpers grew louder, each pull of his hand in your hair sending a delicious mixture of pain and pleasure rippling through you.

“Baby, I'm close—” you choked out, your voice breaking with need.

“Yeah?” Ashton rasped, his hips never losing their relentless rhythm. One hand slid between your legs, finding your clit and teasing it with quick, precise circles. The intensity made your breath hitch, and he leaned in, his voice dark and commanding. “Come for me, baby. Show me how good I make you feel. Show me how much you love my cock.”

You couldn't hold back. Between his unforgiving thrusts, his dirty words, and the way his fingers worked you with expert precision, the pressure inside you finally snapped. A loud cry tore from your throat as you came, your entire body trembling violently with the force of your release.

Ashton's lips brushed your ear as you shook beneath him. “Just like that, sweetheart,” he murmured, his fingers never faltering even as your body slowly began to come down from its high.

“Ashton,” you gasped, your legs trembling uncontrollably. “Fill me up, baby. Please— need your cum.”

His breathing was ragged, his pace becoming erratic as he chased his own release. “I'm close, baby,” he groaned, his hand slipping away from your clit to grip your hips tightly. His movements grew sloppy, and he buried himself deeper with each thrust. “I'm gonna come so deep inside you. Gonna fill you up, make you mine, put a baby in you.”

It didn't take long before Ashton's rhythm faltered, and he let out a broken whimper of your name. His body shuddered as he spilled into you, the warmth of him flooding your core just as he'd promised. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he rode out the waves of his orgasm, each twitch of his cock making you moan softly.

For a moment, the two of you stood there, completely still except for your heaving breaths. The only sound filling the kitchen was the ragged symphony of your labored gasps. Your body felt boneless, leaning heavily against the counter to stay upright.

Ashton pressed soft kisses along your shoulder blades, his warm breath fanning your damp skin and making you shiver. “You’re gonna look so hot as a mum,” he teased with a lazy smirk, slowly pulling out of you.

You whined at the sudden emptiness, the loss of him leaving you aching. Before you could protest, Ashton turned you around and lifted you onto the counter. The cold marble against your bare skin sent a jolt through your body as he gently spread your legs wide.

His eyes glittered as he took in the sight of his release dripping from your core. “Can't let any of this go to waste,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

With deliberate care, he slid a finger along your sensitive clit, making you gasp sharply. Then, without hesitation, he pushed a finger inside, catching the white ribbons threatening to spill out and gently pressing them back into you.

The overstimulation had your legs shaking again, and you propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him work with hooded eyes. Every touch sent sparks shooting through you, and the satisfaction on his face as he ensured none of his release escaped made you ache for him all over again.

Ashton knelt before you, his hazel eyes locking onto yours with a mischievous glint before he leaned in, running a slow, deliberate stripe along your core with his tongue. His movements were unhurried, carefully cleaning you up without disturbing the evidence of his release too much. He only lapped up the small traces that had escaped, trailing down your thighs.

When he was satisfied, he pulled back, the soft sound of his lips parting making you shiver. Rising to his full height, he grinned widely, his expression smug and satisfied. You returned his smile with a lazy one of your own, reaching up to tug him down into a soft, lingering kiss.

“I love you,” you murmured against his lips, your voice tender. “And this was... definitely fun.”

Ashton pulled away just enough to meet your gaze, his grin morphing into a playful smirk. “I love you,” he began, his tone laced with mischief, “and about that…”

His hand slipped down between his legs, stroking his still semi-hard cock until it stood at full attention once again. Your breath hitched as you watched him, speechless, as he lined himself up with you once more. With an achingly slow push, he slid back inside you, making both of you groan at the sensation.

Your arms gave out beneath you, leaving you fully leaning against the counter. “Gotta make sure it all stays in there,” Ashton murmured, his voice low and strained. His hips rolled gently, his eyes fixed on where your bodies joined. “Give me a few, and we'll go again. Maybe even one more time after that.”

A soft laugh escaped you, the movement causing your walls to flutter around him.

Ashton let out a deep groan at the sensation, his hands gripping your hips tightly. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice breathy but teasing. “We can do this as much as you want.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

hope u enjoyed u nasty freaks. my requests are closed atm but my inbox is open if you wanna chat :)

[tldrthor]

promises we intend to keep | steve rogers

Summary: The Avenger's spend time with their comatose friend, Cap's sanity slips from him as he spends every night by her bedside. Is blind faith enough?

Part 2 to things we shouldn't have said (prev. classic enemies to lovers stuff) // He sounded like an idiot, but he couldn't care less. // word count: 4.3k

enjoyed? please like/reblog! you can find my masterlist here <3

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

“Hi, (y/n).” He settled himself into the chair next to the bed, the familiar antiseptic smell filling his nostrils, the beep, beep, beep of her heart like music to his ears. He had hated it at first, but now, it was evidence that she was still here. There was still hope. “I’ve got a break between meetings so I figured I’d come down and say hello.”

He leaned back, watching her peaceful features as unmoving as they had been for nearly a month now. He frowned at the wires connected to her neck and chest, knowing that if she was awake she would’ve hated that. Part of him wanted to rip them off, but his more rational thinking prevented him from doing that.

Dr. Cho’s words circled round his mind, as they hadn’t stopped doing since she spoke them all those weeks ago. “She’s not out of the woods yet. She died twice on the table, and requires all manners of intervention going forward. We’ll only know the extent of the damage when she wakes up –” The doctor had paused for just a second, trying to soften what was only certain to be a killing blow. “–If she wakes up.”

Every time he remembered those words, his knees felt as weak as Bambi on ice. The nausea he used to feel every time he entered this room had faded, and the shell-shock had worn. She still occupied every moment of his thoughts, awake or unconscious. Not that he had been doing a lot of sleeping.

He opened the book at the page he had last left off at, when Sam had come downstairs and dragged the Captain to bed himself last night. “Just to recap,” He spoke to her regardless of her response to him. “Laurie confessed to Jo, but she rejected him. Beth is still sick and boy, that’s rough.” 

He cleared his throat and began reading aloud.

================================================

“(Y/l/n), I’ve had enough now.” Natasha charged through the doors to where (y/n) lay. She threw herself down in the chair, leaning her head on her asleep friend’s shoulder, trying to gain what little emotional support she could from her usual source of sanity amongst the chaos of the compound. “The boys are driving me crazy. I think you’ve made your point; Cap is sorry – he’s very, very sorry, borderline depressed – so you can come back.”

She smiled a charming, pleading smile. But no one was there to see it. She dropped the smile after a few seconds.

“(Y/n), it’s hard without you here. No one’s the same, and Steve won’t accept any missions so we can’t even escape. Sam and Bucky are about to tear each other apart, and Cap just wallows in the gym whenever he’s not here with you.”

More silence. 

“Anyways, Cap said that he wants someone here as much as possible. And we haven’t hung out in a while, so if you don’t mind we’re going to watch the new season of Love Island together.” She kicked off her shoes, stretching her legs over the hospital bed and getting comfortable.

================================================

The next visitor didn’t say anything as he walked through the doors, hovering by the foot of the bed. He uncomfortably brought his hands in and out of his pockets, shifting from one leg to the other. 

He eventually moved beside the bed, reaching a hand out to her forehead, to get rid of a hair that had found itself there. He stood there, staring, in silence for a while longer. He swallowed, took a breath, and spoke out loud;

“Kid, I don’t know if you can hear me.” He paused. “You probably can’t.”

He paced around the room, continuing; “I just want you to know, I got your little letter. Really, more of a stunt, very childish – anyway. I want you to know that if that’s your wish, I’ll help you out in setting up. But I also need you to know that you’re going to have to tell me that to my face. So you’ll have to wake up.”

“Also, I’m your boss and your sick pay is running out, so chop chop.” He joked to himself. He basked in the silence for another second.

“It’s not the same without you, (y/l/n). Hope to talk soon.”

“Mr. Stark, Mrs Potts is requesting your presence in the kitchen.” FRIDAY chimed in right on time. He muttered a be right up, taking one last look at his young teammate, and walked out the doors. 

================================================

A month to the day since she was shot, Steve couldn’t sleep. Before the whole debacle, he would’ve just gone to the gym and fought it out of his system. But now, he couldn’t bear being anywhere but in the medical bay. He couldn’t even count the amount of times he had woken up in that chair, neck in excruciating pain, the book on the floor. Or, the amount of times Bucky or Sam or Natasha had come downstairs and marched him back to bed.

He couldn’t help it. The thought of her waking up alone, not knowing where she is, was his greatest concern – scratch that, his greatest fear was her not waking up at all.

He didn’t take the time to change into proper clothes, instead deciding to head down in his pyjamas – ones that she had complimented him on, once upon a time. Red flannel pants and a matching henley – she had described it as ‘lumberjack chic’ and then explained that that was a good thing. He hadn’t realised back then, but Steve now thinks she might have been flirting. He cursed how much of an idiot he was before this disaster.

He wished desperately he could turn back time to then. Before he decided the only way not to love her, was to hate her.

“It’s me, again.” He spoke, taking his familiar spot on the chair next to the bed. He yawned, getting himself more comfortable, flicking the blanket they had all collectively decided was required over his legs. “Now, where were we?” He picked up the book again, reciting words from the pages until it fell from his hand, loud snores from his mouth filling the room.

================================================

When he awoke again, he was in the same familiar pain he always had when he spent too much time in the chair. This time he had fallen forward, his head resting on the bed and… his hand entwined in hers.

He sighed, giving himself the luxury of just a second feeling what he would never have. Her hands were soft, and smooth. Not like his own. They were warm, and comfortable, and something about her fingers holding onto his just felt right.

It wouldn’t be respectful to linger for longer than that, not without her knowing, but as he tried to pull his hand away –

Was that a twitch?

He stared at her hand, now more awake and alert than he had been all month. There was no way, he was definitely just going delirious through stress, or lack of sleep, or maybe his age had just caught up with him because –

A second twitch.

“Oh my god.” He glared daggers into her hand, as if that would do something. Maybe he really was losing his marbles. This was just wishful thinking. His heart feeling like it was about to thump, thump, thump right out of his chest. Do it again. Please, do it again. 

When it happened for a third time, and he saw it with his own eyes, he could only make a noise that could really only be described as a squeal. On his feet in an instant, his hand finding its way to her cheek, cupping her face.

There was no other sign of life. He stared and stared and stared. “Wake up, (y/n). Wake up, I’m here.” He pleaded. The words tumbled out of his mouth before he considered them; “If you wanted to prove a point, consider it proven. You’re not a liability, you’ve never, ever been a liability.”

“Just wake up. I am so, so sorry for everything.” His thumb stroked her cheek, his eyes staring at her face looking for anything that might indicate she was coming back to him. “Just wake up.”

Nothing.

He sat back down, defeated. He had gotten his hopes up, and it all came crashing back down. He placed his hand firmly back on hers as he leant his head on the bed, wet patches forming on the sheets as saltwater leaked from his eyes.

====================================

“Cap, we’re not saying we don’t believe you —” Sam was interrupted.

Steve turned away from his friends, growing more and more frustrated with every sentence uttered. They didn’t believe him. She had moved. She was coming back, but no one would listen.

“You don’t believe me. I promise her hand twitched.” His jaw tensed, his stare as far away from his friends as he could get.

“Stevie, we believe that you felt something, but you have to admit, bud, you’ve been hardly sleeping and pushing yourself too far. Nothing was picked up on monitors, how would that be?” Bucky reasoned, sitting in the same chair where Steve had been so convinced she was waking up, just hours ago.

He had called them to the room as early as he deemed was responsible that day, and they had come running. Only to find their friend still asleep, and the captain with red eyes and bags under them that only seemed to get worse and worse the more they looked.

Sam sighed, hand reaching up to rub his temple. He had had a pretty consistent headache himself for a good couple of weeks. “Steve, I completely understand. We all want her back, but you can’t keep torturing yourself over this. She’ll wake up, just give her time.”

“Sam, it’s been a month – the doctor said if she was going to wake up it would take around a week.” Steve pleaded, the tears welling in his eyes again. He didn’t care anymore about hiding it from them. They already thought he was crazy anyway.

Sam placed a hand on his back as he wiped the water with the back of his hand.

“We’ll wait as long as it takes, but it has to be we. You can’t be here all the time, Steve. It’s no good if she wakes up and you’ve killed yourself from lack of sleep.”

“I don’t want to miss the moment she comes back.” He whispered.

Sam and Bucky made eye contact, pitying looks cast between them. 

Bucky decided to speak, seeing Sam’s heartbreak at trying to reason with their normally solid friend. “Steve, you have to go to bed – don’t argue – but I’ll stay with her. I promise that if anything happens, I will let you know in an instant.”

Steve’s lips drew into a tight line, his eyebrows furrowed. Bucky continued; “Come on, just give me a couple hours, Stevie. I’ll chat to her, we’ll listen to music or something. I promise I’ll take care of her.”

“Come on.” Sam put his arm round Steve, gentle but firmly leading him away. He stole one last glance, as Bucky pulled out his phone to put on some music.

When the boys were finally away, Bucky turned to her. “You’re causing quite a ruckus, tiger. You always liked your sleep, but this is a bit much.” He laughed, leaning back in the chair. “There’s not much to say, kid – I know that the others have been talking your ear off. We need you back.”

He scrolled on his phone a little. Looking for the playlist she had shared with him – one to blend their music tastes. It was originally just for a mission they had to go on together, but turned into one of his favourite ways to bond with her. Music. He laughed again at the name: ‘Golden Oldie and the Wunderkind’ He remembered the day she had made up the name, they hadn’t stopped laughing for hours.

He clicked shuffle, smiling as I and Love and You by the Avett Brothers came over the speakers. “I know you like this song because it reminds you of Stevie.” He teased, but let it play out. He didn’t quite let himself sing, but he did mouth the words to his favourite verse;

That woman, she’s got eyes that shine, Like a pair of stolen, polished dimes. She asked to dance, I said ‘it’s fine– I’ll see you in the morning time’.

What he didn’t tell her, didn’t dare to say out loud, was that ever since he had mentioned to Steve that she liked the song, Steve had listened to it at least once a day. Particularly after they had their usual fights.

These idiots have a lot to figure out when she wakes up. He thought to himself.

================================================

Bucky got a few hours with her, listening to their playlist, occasionally chatting about the song choices. He briefly tried to read the book on the side, but when he saw it was Little Women, he put it right back down again. 

“Sorry, tiger. Not my vibe.” He chuckled.

The doors opened slowly, revealing a slightly-less-haggard Captain America. He had put actual clothes on, looked like he had slept at least a little bit and had even showered. Bucky gave a nod of approval, folding his arms and leaning back in the chair again.

“You feeling better?” Bucky asked his friend, who simply nodded in response. 

Buck stood, knowing that Steve wanted to be alone with her right now. To not have the pitying looks thrown at him that Bucky couldn’t help but cast. He understood, he had been there.

“See ya, punk.” He gave a hearty smile before leaving.

Steve took his rightful seat, sighing before starting the same routine they had done over, and over, and over again. He was growing so sick of this chair, and the bed, and the beeping from the machines that didn’t seem to be helping at all. 

He got through around half a chapter of Little Women, until he realised that Beth was going to die. He didn’t know how he hadn’t remembered, he had heard his mother reading this book all the way back in ‘35. He closed the book, finding death far too triggering, given the current situation. 

Just closing the book wasn’t enough, it was like it burned him to hold it. He threw it across the room in a moment of fury. Frustration swept his whole body as he spiralled, down and down and down. He was ashamed of how out of control he had become. He had always been so rational, so measured. He was always the one people came to when they needed grounding – yet he didn’t know how to ground himself.

He rested his head on her arm, his sweaty palms holding her hand with a ferocity hitherto unseen from him. Like his damn life depended on it.

Maybe it did.

“Come on, (y/n),” He pleaded with the air. With God. With her. “I know you’re mad at me, just wake up and we’ll have another shouting match. Just like before.” A brutally defeated tone weighed down his voice, rough and gravelly from the effort of his bargain. He enclosed her hand in both of his own, leaning his head against them.

A cough. 

He froze for a second, hiding behind her hand in his. The coughs continued, dry and painful sounding. Was there someone else in the room?

He took a moment to steel himself, peeling himself away from her hand, and staring at her, mouth agape like a fish out of water. “Oh my god.”

“Water.” She croaked.

He jumped up, the chair going flying backwards. He didn’t notice. With shaking hands, he poured the water from the jug on the bedside table into one of the plastic cups. He held it up to her dry, cracked lips, watching as she drank the whole cup.

“Be careful.” He spoke, instincts kicking in. “You’re on fluids, don’t overload your kidneys.”

She finished, her head laying straight back down on the pillow. He could see in her very brief movements that she was weak. He couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Her eyes were barely open as she turned her head in his direction.

“Captain?” Her voice was rough as sandpaper, like she was straining just to get her singular words out. He just stared, incredulously.

“I’m here, sweetheart.” The pet name rolled off his tongue like he had always said it, and he didn’t even notice. “Oh, my god. You’re awake. I’m here. Don’t worry, I’m here.”

He had practiced over and over again, what he was going to say to her when she woke up. Thought about it for entire nights when he couldn’t get to sleep. His plans had been poetic and perfect – they were not ‘oh my god you’re awake.’ He sounded like an idiot, but he couldn’t care less.

Her eyes opened, slowly, and she looked around the room. “What happened?” The words were still a struggle to get out and he could tell. He wanted to tell her to rest, to save her voice for later, to recuperate. But he hadn’t heard that sound in so long, that he let himself be selfish – just one more time.

His own mouth when dry at her amnesia. She knew who he was, which was good. But not knowing how she ended up here was a bad sign. 

“What do you remember?” She was growing restless at lying down, and she was in so much pain. It felt like her whole body was made of stone, but she used all of the strength she had in her to try to sit up.

She was met by gentle hands, guiding her up and placing pillows behind her to support her. Hands that belonged to her once arch-nemesis, who looked at her now like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.

She was so confused. 

“I remember arguing in the forest.” Her eyes were wide with what Steve could only decipher as panic. “I don’t remember anything else… Why am I here?” The scared tone in her voice broke Steve’s heart all over again, but it could not take over the elation he felt at the fact that she was there.

He took a deep breath, briefly considering what he should tell her, considering all the events of the last month, in particular, that day. One of the worst days of his life.

“You were shot through the chest.” He began. “It knocked you out instantly, we barely got you here alive.” He ran his thumb softly over the back of her hand, unable to make eye contact. “You- you’ve been asleep for a month.”

He decided not to tell her of the fact she had died on the operating table. That could wait.

“A month?!” She shouted, resulting in another coughing fit. He helped her drink some more water, making soothing noises as she did so. It all felt so surreal. Every minute of every day since that moment, he had wished for this. And now it was happening. She was awake, and talking. 

Her voice started to clear; “Are you okay? Were you hurt?”

“No. Please, don’t worry about me. You saved me from being shot right before you went down – it was my fault you got hurt.”

“I don’t think that’s right.” She contorted her face into a puzzled expression, looking down at his hand, clasping hers. She said it as a mix between a statement and a question – “We’re holding hands?”

“Yes, um. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up and your hand twitched a couple of days ago so that’s why – sorry, I’ll stop-”

As he tried to untangle their hands, she closed her fist and prevented him from doing so. He watched her chest rise and fall quickly, her eyes wide.

“Please, don’t.” Her words were like a child’s as her nostrils flared. She was uncertain. He wasn’t sure he had ever seen her uncertain before, not even a flash of hesitance had danced across her features as far back as he could remember. “It feels nice.”

Maybe, he just wasn’t paying enough attention.

“Then I’ll keep holding your hand until you ask me to stop.” He promised. A gentle, sincere smile took over his features, which she tried her best to replicate. He observed her face, drinking in the colour in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes. 

It was a stark contrast to how they had last left off – the image replaying over and over again in his mind of her clinging to life, blood leaking from her mouth, her nose, her chest. The inky, sticky red coating his suit and his hands and his shoes. So much blood, endless. Sometimes he still felt the slick heat of it all over him. He wasn’t sure that he would ever be able to scrub that feeling from his memory.

“Where are the others? Are they okay?” (Y/n) asked, looking around the room at the various bunches of flowers and cards littered upon every surface. Steve had completely forgotten the others existed in his complete shock at her return.

He winced, knowing he should have called for them immediately. “They’ll be so happy to see you.” He spoke directly to her, and then to the ceiling; “FRIDAY, let everyone know that (y/n) is awake.”

“Yes, Captain.” The irish lilt came from above.

It was mere seconds before the doors came barrelling open, the entire team funnelling into the relatively small room, crowding around the bed and exclaiming various different versions of ‘Oh my god’, ‘You’re awake’, ‘Holy shit’. The room was absolute chaos with an unmusical cacophony.

This was allowed to go on for a few minutes, before the on-call doctor, someone (y/n) had never seen before, rounded the corner. “Okay, okay!” He shouted, “This is too much for the patient, I want everyone out – you can come in smaller groups.”

Everyone grumbled but did as they were told, each taking their chance to say ‘call if you need anything’, ‘see you later’ or ‘we’ll come back with sweets’. Bucky ruffled her hair and Natasha pressed a kiss to her cheek, muttering about how a certain Captain would be looking after her. She didn’t really understand what it meant, but a blush spread to her cheeks anyway.

As the last of them filed out, Steve turned to her and asked; “Do you want me to stay?” A certain vulnerability sewn into his question.

“Yes.” She answered far too quickly. “Please, Captain. If that’s okay.” Her voice seemed to get smaller and smaller as she spoke. “I don’t want to be alone.” Her grip on his hand tightened, both a demand and a question contained within it.

How on Earth could he say no to her? Her wide, gorgeous eyes searched his face for an answer, which he gave by settling further into the chair, pulling it even closer to the bed, if that was even possible. 

“Like I said, as long as you want. I’m here, you’re not alone.”

They sat in silence for a while, the Captain not taking his eyes away from her face. 

“(Y/n).” He had to tell her, now or never. He wouldn’t risk something like this again, things going unsaid. “I hope you know how sorry I am for what I said, all those weeks ago. It’s not an excuse, but I realised all this time I’ve not hated you, I’ve …”

She looked at him, her lips parted. Her messy hair splayed in a way where the fluorescent lights caught it, making it look like a sort of pseudo-halo. He knew it, right there and then. This was it.

“I’ve loved you. Since the moment we met.”

A shocked expression on her face moved slowly, her open mouth contorting into a soft, loving smile. She squeezed his hand, bringing her other arm over to hold it as well. Just more contact. That was all she needed.

“Steve, I feel the same.” She was still playing with his actual name, not ‘Captain’ or ‘Rogers’ or a sarcastic ‘Cap’. He couldn’t believe how it sounded coming from her – like it was a new name altogether. Like a song he was discovering for the first time.

He couldn’t help it now, he beamed. “You do?”

She nodded, licking her lips. They were so cracked, and dry. But she didn’t care.

“I– I can’t lean over to you, but… I would love to kiss you right now.”

He didn’t waste any time. Up and out of his seat in an instant, crossing what little distance was left between them. His hands reached her cheeks first, cupping them ever so softly. They breathed together, just for a second, his eyes flicking to hers almost to make sure she knew what she was doing. 

And then his lips were on hers. The kiss wasn’t like she had imagined – it wasn’t dramatic, wasn’t angry, wasn’t sudden. It was calculated and gentle and passionate. It was everything she could ever have hoped for.

They pulled apart, Steve knowing that she wasn’t strong enough to hold her breath to kiss her as long as he wanted to. His hand stroked her cheek, his eyes staring into hers. He rested his forehead against hers for a second, before moving up and pressing a kiss to it.

The look in his eyes was one of love, happiness and admiration.

“I think I’ve wanted to do that since we met.” He admitted, breathless from excitement. They smiled at each other wordlessly, growing used to the looks between not being ones of glaring and daggers, but of kindness, and warmth.

The only sound was the steady beep, beep, beep of her heart rate – a sound he had definitely decided he loved. They stayed like that for hours, before she started to fall back asleep – to rest, this time.

“Will you be here when I wake up?” She asked, as she slipped back into slumber.

“I promise.” And nothing on Earth could stop him from keeping it.

================================================

TAGS -- I've tagged everyone who requested a part two! You guys really keep my motivation up so I hope it's done you justice <3. This will be the last part for now, but I'm thinking of setting future domestic fics in this universe!

@haven-in-writing @marvelouskatie @veryaverageapple @ironwinnerwonderland @ohdrey89 @waqtzayaontmblr @shygamergirl01 @starkenobi @ynstark

p.s. please please listen to 'I and Love and You' by the Avett Brothers if you haven't before -- it's so Steve and is such a lovely song.

[lilliezzzzz-fics]

Voicemails [Unsent]

pairing: lando norris x reader author's note: uh. okay. hi! for starters, this is intended lowercase. unusual for me, all prim and proper with my writing or whatever, but yeah! idk! i was scrolling through a prompt list and saw voicemail and thought, huh! this! seems fun to write! so i did, and here we are. enjoy! (no use of y/n as always) tags: full smau. established relationship. text through voicemail and lando only. a little angsty!! warnings: none(?) word count: 1.1k

liked by f1, and 1.5M others lando some start ay

user444 let’s go!!! this is ur year!!! ↳ user414 this is his year fr!!!

mclarenauto what a start to the season 🧡 user33 killed it man! amazing quadrant honestly what a drive

You have 2 new voicemail(s)! 1 - [deleted] 2 - from: lando ❤

Transcript of voicemail from: lando ❤ | 1:31

> is- is this thing going? yeah— yeah, okay. hi baby! i know it’s late for you. i’m sorry— really, i just… yeah. no, i miss you. shit, this is really hard—isn’t it? awkward laugh, rustling. anyway. sorry. i won today in australia! it’s probably the first thing you’ll see when you wake up, anyway, with how much you try to keep up with my work. thank you for that, by the way. it means a lot, what—with how busy you are? work and studying and shit. thank you, really. i- i think i even looked for you in the crowd. rustling, heavy breathing. i’m- uh, i’m in bed, at the hotel? i don’t know.. uh, it’s really weird not sleeping next to you. feeling this happy—celebrating without you. i miss the soft smile you give me when you’re at the verge of sleep and you just listen to me ramble. i’m rambling now, aren’t i? laughs. god, i’m sorry, baby. anyway—i really, really fucking miss you. it’s- uh- it’s late for me now, too. not as late as it is for you, but like. i think my trainer’ll get mad if i don’t go to sleep soon. uh- but, call me back? or, send me a message, when you can. i love you to the moon and the stars and forevermore, baby. good night.

<voicemail ended.>

liked by oscarpiastri and 587K others lando nice double podium for us, proud of everyone. we’ll keep moving forward.

quadrant 🤜🤛 user444 so proud of u lando! mclarenauto amazing race team

You’ve got 1 new voicemail(s)! 1 - from: lando ❤

Transcript of voicemail from: lando ❤ | 1:39

> short pause. heavy, shuddering breathing. i miss you so much. fuck. fuck! i miss you, baby. like, so much. so, so much. i said that already, but… today was—oh, today wasn’t easy. wavering laugh. sniffling. shit—i’m, i’m fine. i just… it’s so hard. i didn’t— i didn’t think i’d miss you this much. it’s like… it’s like there’s this ghost of you just lingering, but you’re never really there. i’m gonna be honest— pause. shifting, rustling. —today was hard. like, really fucking hard. it was a double podium, at least, but… i, i don’t know. it was just so hard. big inhale. exhale. you know, i thought i could get a hold of you. i really wish i could get a hold of you. i really need you, baby. need to hear your voice. shit! i’m—i’m sorry. i just— you said we’d talk more. you- you said… that, that you’d try to get a hold of me. i know you’re busy—god, i’m being really selfish right now.. fuck, sorry, baby. just— call me back? please. i… i love you, to the moon and the stars, and forevermore. call me back.

<voicemail ended.>

Voicemails <Unsent Draft>

Transcript of <Unsent Draft> | 1:09

> short pause. light breathing. i… i don’t know what the hell i’m doing, man. it's like you're haunting me. i saw a fucking—i saw a seashell, and i thought of you. the stupid kind you'd always pick up, even when it was cracked, and you'd say it looked like a heart... it’s like— it’s like i keep seeing you everywhere, just running and running—and i just let you. is that— is that fair? is that what love is supposed to feel like? because baby, i’m tired. so fucking tired of running after you. pause. harsh breathing. i’m sorry. i didn’t mean that.  i- i don’t want to fight. i just want you. here, with me. long pause. rain starts to pour. light. …i’m not sending this.

You’ve got 1 missed call.

Call with lando ❤ ended after 27m

2 new notifications!

snapchat • lando <3 • 13:06 sent you a snap!

snapchat • lando <3 • 13:14 sent you a snap!

You’ve got 1 new voicemail! 1 - from: lando ❤

Transcript of voicemail from: lando ❤ | 1:50

> hi baby, it’s me again. i’ve been calling a lot. i’m sorry. soft rustling. light crackles. static. i’ve… i’ve been thinking about you. like, a lot. i’m sure you saw—with the snaps i sent. soft laugh. low yawn. i hope you didn’t mind. i— i know we talked a little. i’m glad. but— it’s still not the same. i don’t get to hear you rant about your day and your work and studies. i don’t hear your rambling about that one thing you keep thinking about— quick pause. —some series? i don’t quite remember. fuck. sorry. pause. gentle breathing. you know, i told oscar a joke. one that i’d tell you, right? and— and he laughed… but like he was being polite. like he didn’t get it. like you would. he laughed, but not in the way you do. soft breathing. a barely audible gulp. not in the way you do. you know, with your smile, and your eye crinkling. like i’m the funniest man in the world! low laugh. i sleep, uh… i sleep on the right side of the bed. your side is always cold. i hate the cold. low pause. uh, sorry. uhm… i miss you, baby. as always, i love you… to the moon, and the stars, and forevermore. pause. crackling. clicking, tapping on his phone. bye.

<voicemail ended.>

lando <3 posted on their private story!

You’ve got 1 new voicemail(s)!  1 - from: lando ❤

Transcript of voicemail from: lando ❤ | 0:53

> long pause. quiet hum in the background. okay, baby. i miiight’ve done something. after— after our talk yesterday, i decided that i will book a flight. home. pause. soft breathing. i— i know, that uhm… that i should’ve told you beforehand, but… i hope you don’t mind. but i’ll finally— finally, get to see you again. get to hear your voice again— and no, your voice through phone isn’t the same. too staticy. not warm enough. laugh. i’m landing in like an hour, but… i’ve got the keys to our house. in case you hear this before i get there, keep the light on for me? soft giggle. i love you baby, to the moon and the stars, and forevermore. see you soon.

<voicemail ended.>

©lilliezzzzz-fics: please don't copy or distribute my work on any platform

credits: @/cafekitsune for the dividers <3

author's note: this one was a little different! abrupt end too lol,,, hope u liked it though!! lando is so fun to write tbh

taglist: @toodeepintofandoms @milessunflowers

[sanjoongie]

𝔽𝕠𝕔𝕦𝕤 𝕠𝕟 𝕞𝕖

🔧Pairing: Customer! Mingi x Mechanic! Reader (f) 🔧Genre: smut, pwp 🔧Trope: sex for services 🔧Au: non-idol, mechanic 🔧Rated: 18+, MDNI 🔧Warnings: oral (f), protected sex, dacryphilia, service top! Mingi, assuring bottom! reader 🔧Word Count: 1,620 🔧Summary: Mingi needs his car fixed but the towing alone blew all his money. When he offers up sex in payment for his car being fixed, you can't say no to his big eyes 🔧Beta: @downtoamagicalland

Mingi’s powder blue convertible was the love of his life. So when a fuse blew and he had to pay for it to be towed to the nearest garage, he was nearly devastated. He bemoaned outside your bay door the entire time you were working on it.

“Why does towing cost so much anyways? Obviously my car isn’t working so I can’t drive it to the garage,” Mingi pouts.

“Someone’s wage needs to be paid for the service and the gas,” You reply, nonplussed. Mingi wasn’t even on the level you were used to with some customers.

You slam the hood down, causing your customer to jump a foot in the air. “All done.”

Mingi made a face. “Do you take payments in installments?"

You lean back on the hood of Mingi’s car. “Nope.” You let the p pop.

Mingi begins to scratch the back of his head. “Listen.”

You raise an eyebrow at Mingi’s anxiousness. “I’m listening.”

“Paying the towing alone blew any money I had.” Mingi blows some air out of his mouth, causing his fringe to ruffle.

You chew silently on your gum, studying Mingi. He’s got on some pretty nice shoes, light wash jeans and a white button up. He doesn’t look like he’s low on money. You blow a bubble with your gum.

“Is there any other way I can repay you?” Mingi broaches the subject.

His eyes are big and vulnerable. That look probably worked with a lot of people. But you had a business to run and parts weren’t cheap. Neither was your labour.

“You could work off your debt,” You suggest.

Mingi winces. “I’m not sure I’d be much help in a garage. I don’t know the difference between a fender or a wrench.”

“Look, Mister Song--”

“Mingi.” Your customer corrects you.

“Mingi, I can’t do this for free. The fuse alone isn’t that much but you paid for my services instead of doing this yourself,” You insist.

Mingi ambles over to you on top of the hood of his car. He places both of his hands palm down and leans into you. “There’s other services I could render.” He cheekily traps his tongue between his teeth.

“You must be awfully full of yourself if you think sex with you is worth the cost of fixing your car,” You deadpan.

Mingi smiles, a grin really, full of teeth and making his eyes disappear. “No complaints so far.”

You let out some air, causing your hair to ruffle. “This is absolutely ridiculous.”

“Does that mean you’re considering it?” Mingi looks delighted.

You purse your lips to the side in disappointment. “I should just take you to small claims court.”

“I promise, this will be much more enjoyable,” Mingi says with a glimmer in his eyes.

Mingi used his height to his advantage and closed the garage door firmly. He then pushed you down back against the hood of his car, after stripping you of your one piece, and promptly ate you out like you were an open buffet. Your hands dug into his soft hair, urging him closer, as your climax approached. You let out a mewl as Mingi denies you your orgasm, and moves away.

Mingi sits on his haunches in front of the car and uses the back of his hand to wipe away any errant moisture from his face. His tongue is still tracing his lips when he speaks. “So, I have something to confess.”

Your arm is thrown over your face, attempting to not beg for more. “If it’s that you’re rich and you actually have money to pay me, I no longer care.”

Mingi laughs and stands up. His ringed hands play along the skin from your knee up your thigh. “I kinda sorta maybe sabotaged my car so that this could happen.”

You lift your arm to send an incredulous look at Mingi. “What?”

Mingi looks up at the ceiling, face guilty. “I live around here. And it’s been a hot summer. Seeing you with your coveralls half down, in a dirty tank top, just flat does it for me.”

You sit up, knocking Mingi’s hands off you, and cross your legs, a little self conscious now that you’re ass naked on the hood of his car. “So you made one of your fuses blow so that you could bring your car to my garage? Why not ask me out like a normal person?”

Mingi winces. “Well, I’ve kinda had this fantasy with you…”

“That you eat me out on the hood of your car?” You demand in disbelief.

Mingi smiles but it fades when he realizes you’re not joking. “No, paying you for your services with sex.”

You throw your hands up. “You’ve seen way too many pornos, Mingi.”

Mingi’s giving you his big innocent eyes again. “So… now that I’ve told you the truth..?”

“Well now you’ve got to fuck me!” You shout. “I’m all worked up now!”

“I brought a condom.” Mingi pulls out a square, foil package.

Your eyelashes flutter as your eyes roll. “Wow, you really had zero doubt that this wouldn’t work, huh?”

Mingi gently untangles your legs and spreads them. “I promise, I’ll be good to you.”

“You better,” You say nonplussed.

You watch in half curiosity, half anger as Mingi unbuckles his jeans and pushes them and his underwear far enough to release his dick. Your eyes widen a fraction when you see what he’s packing. Mingi’s too preoccupied with putting the condom on, otherwise, he’d be quite happy from your reaction.

His eyes go to your face and back to the head of his cock as one hand presses your thigh down to the hood of his car and the other guides his cock to your entrance. “It’s okay, right?”

“Mingi, for the love of cars, just fuck me already!” You yell in frustration.

Mingi bites down on his lower lip as he pushes into you. You're wet enough that everything is good but that still doesn’t prepare you for how much Mingi has to fight to get inside of you. Nor does anything prepare you for the look on Mingi’s face. He may be the one on top of you but his eyebrows furrow like he’s desperate for something.

“Mingi… are you okay?” You can’t help but ask.

“Yeah, I--” Mingi blows out a shaky breath, a smile flirting on his lips. “It’s just really good.”

“You sure, cuz you look like you’re gonna--” You suck in a gasp as an errant tear rolls down Mingi’s face.

Mingi dashes it away as soon as he feels it rolling down the apple of his cheeks. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“You’re beautiful,” You murmur. “Don't apologize.”

“Yeah,” Mingi smiles bashfully.

“You can start moving now,” You remind him.

Mingi stares down where his dick is inside of you and watches as it moves in and out of your cunt. Your head rolls back at the sensation.

“Hey hey.” Mingi calls you back to earth. “Just focus on me.”

“Fuck,” You can’t help but whine. “You weren’t joking.”

Mingi nudges his hips against your ass a little harder and that whine turns into a full fledged moan. Which only encourages Mingi to snap his hips forward again and again. Your ass starts to move up the hood of the power blue convertible to the point where Mingi has to wrap his arms behind your back and hold you against him.

“Shit,” Mingi groans. “You’re coming soon right? You’re squeezing me so damn tight, I don’t know how much longer I can hold out.”

“You--” Your breath gets blown out of your lungs as Mingi thrusts into you. “You keep going like that and I will.”

A crescendo of “ah’s” fall from your lips as Mingi fucks you good. The angle he’s digging into is so fucking good that you have to fight from closing your eyes again. Mingi’s mouth is a hairsbreadth away from your lips, breath ghosting your lips. This should be just a simple lustful fuck but between the tears and the proximity, it was starting to feel much more intimate.

“Fall apart for me on my car.” Mingi whispers.

You shout as your climax roars through you. A plethora of ‘fucks’ are gasped as Mingi’s fucks you through your high. His thrusts also send him on his way, along with a loud moan that echoes into the rafters of your garage.

And in between the both of you receiving your release, Mingi manages to capture your lips with his. It’s sensual and gentle, a simple melding of lips, but you eagerly press your lips back to his, your climax having you greedy for anything more.

Mingi chuckles into the kiss and then separates from you. “That definitely lived up to the fantasy.”

You lock your legs behind Mingi’s slim waist and he looks at you in confusion. “I’m afraid that’s not going to cover your bill, Mister Song.”

You watch as the gears in Mingi’s head spin until finally he realizes exactly what you’re up to. You’re not too sure why you suddenly want to play into Mingi’s little fantasy, but, if it equals getting dicked down by him a second time, the end justifies the means.

“I don’t think I have another condom,” Mingi worries.

You shrug your shoulders. “I’m on birth control. Besides, wouldn’t it be fun to see your cum drip down my--” Mingi smashes his lips against yours eagerly, cutting off your dirty talk. “--Onto your car--mmfff!”

Mingi’s kisses are hungry now but you tap his stomach to remind him he better take off his condom and fuck you properly.

Suddenly, you have a new favorite customer.

[seilon]

top surgery in exactly a month. that’s crazy

[popcat69]

Incorrect Tmnt quotes

Mikey: What does 'take out' mean? Donnie: Food. Leo: Dating Raph: Murder Y/n: IT CAN MEAN ALL THREE IF YOU'RE NOT A COWARD.

Donnie: Favourite horror movie?

Mikey: It

Raph: Saw

Leo: Annabelle

Y/n: High School Musical. after watching it I spent all my middle school years terrified that the entire school would start singing something and I’d be the only one who didn’t know the lyrics

Leo: Croissants: dropped

Raph: Road: works ahead

Y/n: BBQ sauce: on my titties

April: Shavacado: fre

Mikey: Miss Keisha: fuckin dead

Donnie:

Donnie: I didn’t understand a single word of that and I hate every single one of you.

Y/n: Change is inedible.

Donnie: Don't you mean inevitable?

Y/n, spitting out coins: No, I did not.

Mikey: Hey Donnie,

Donnie: Yes?

Mikey: Can a person breathe inside a washing machine while it’s on?

Donnie:

Donnie: Where’s Y/n?

Donnie: April isn’t answering their phone

Y/n: I’ll call

Donnie: Casey and I have both tried six times each, what makes you thi-

April: Hello?

Y/n: Top 30 reasons why y/n is sorry... Number 5 will surprise you!

Raph: Top 30 anime deaths. Number One: YOUR FUCKING ASS RIGHT NOW!!!

Mikey: I'm incredibly fast at maths.

Y/n: Alright, what's 30x17?

Mikey: 47

Y/n: That's not even close.

Mikey: But it was fast.

Donnie: Would you guys be there for me if I was going through something?

Raph: Nope, absolutely not.

Leo: I hope it sucks, whatever you're going through.

Mikey: I hope it emotionally scars you for the rest of your life.

Casey: I hope you reach out to me so I can ignore you.

Y/n: I can't wait to go to your funeral, knowing I could've changed that outcome.

*Everyone is standing around the broken coffee maker*

Splinter: So. Who broke it? I'm not mad, I just wanna know.

Everyone:

Leo: ...I did. I broke it.

Splinter: No. No you didn't. Mikey?

Mikey: Don't look at me. Look at Y/n.

Y/n: What?! I didn't break it.

Mikey: Huh, that's weird. How'd you even know it was broken?

Y/n: Because it's sitting right in front of us and it's broken.

Mikey: Suspicious.

Y/n: No, it's not!

Raph: If it matters, probably not, but April was the last one to use it.

April: Liar! I don't even drink that crap!

Raph: Oh really? Then what were you doing by the coffee cart earlier?

April: I use the wooden stirrers to push back my cuticles. Everyone knows that, Raph!

Leo: Okay let's not fight. I broke it. Let me pay for it, person A.

Splinter: No! Who broke it!?

Everyone:

Raph: Splinter... Donnie’s been awfully quiet.

Donnie: rEALLY?!

*Everyone starts arguing*

Splinter, being interviewed: I broke it. I burned my hand so I punched it.

Splinter: I predict 10 minutes from now they'll be at each other's throats with warpaint on their faces and a pig head on a stick.

Splinter:

Splinter: Good. It was getting a little chummy around here.

'Can I copy the homework?'

Donnie: I can help you with it!

April: Yeah, sure.

Y/n: Bold of you to assume I did the homework.

Raph: lol nope.

Mikey: Wait, we had homework?!?!?!

Leo: *Read 5:55pm*

Leo: bitches b like “im baby” but have childhood trauma and neglect like wtf do u know about being baby u were forced to grow up from an early age anyways I’m bitches

Leo, driving y/n and April: So how was your day?

Y/n: We almost got surprise adopted!

Leo: What?

April: We almost got kidnapped.

Leo: Oh, okay.

Leo: *slams on the breaks* WAIT WHAT?!

[bixbythemartian]

50+ Ways to Annoy the Death Witch

Chapter 1: Call her a Necromancer

Next> Latest>>

I was on the porch sketching when Callahan showed up.

Callahan works for the Council and investigates witchy doings. Mostly in the vein of ‘please lets keep the normies from trying to murder us all’, though that concern has gone down a TON in the internet era.

You’d think it would be the opposite, right? Everybody has a camera, all the time. Surely they’d catch actual magic!

Yeah. They do, all the fuckin time, and they call it something else. Or they do call it magic, and they’re called crazy. You've seen 'em. The internet is full of people who think giants or aliens built the pyramids, people who claim they see shadow people, or think their neighbor controls the cows, they just don't stand out.

Anyway, work has dried up for Callahan and people like him, is my point. It's a much slower gig than it was back in the day.

Is he a witch cop? Ehhhh... he’s the closest we come. Mostly he’s just trying to keep us out of the news, like I said. If one of us was really out of line he’d take it to the council and let them handle it (usually by binding the witch’s magic), but that hasn’t happened in a couple of decades.

He still comes and crawls up my ass every time some teenager finds an old grimoire and brings back the family pet, or whatever.

I stood up as his truck came down the drive. That was my last big project, taking the gravel out and putting pavers in for the driveway. It was expensive as hell, but it means that I can just swap a paver out if one cracks, rather than having to have to deal with gravel all the time.

I do kind of miss the noise of the gravel, though.

That payday was from his last visit, come to think- usually he comes out because he's stumped, and after he's done accusing me of atrocities and grave robbing, he hires me to help him figure out who actually did it.

Pretty often it's some kid with too much magic and not enough sense trying to bring back someone they love. It's always sad, but that's easy to handle. By the time we get involved, they're usually pretty anxious for a solution, because it has gotten out of control.

He parked next to my pickup and got out, strolling over like he had all god damned day. He’s probably in his late 30s, dark hair and eyes. He lives up in the city, these days, but his grandparents went to high school with mine, in a town that gets smaller every year, and are buried in the same damned graveyard.

I first met him in that very graveyard.

“Hey there, Miss Tabitha,” he said. “How’s my favorite necromancer?”

I sighed. He annoys me so much.

“I know, I know, you don’t like being called that.”

“I’m not a necromancer,” I said, for probably the thousandth time.

“Sure, you’re a different kind of death magic witch. Whatever.”

“A necromancer is someone who uses magic to control corpses, and can be any type of witch. I’m a death witch, my power source is the death of any and all organic matter. Some witches get their power from the earth or the stars or weather, mine happens to come from a different natural force.” I don’t know where he gets his from. For a while I suspected it was hair gel, but he switched to wearing ballcaps.

I think he’s balding.

“And you use it to keep your neighbor’s chickens from getting sick and that’s it, huh?”

“I buy eggs off her,” I said. “Do you want something, or do you just get itchy if you haven’t accused me of something unholy?”

He clicked his tongue. “Well, now, there’s a cemetery out in Macomb that’s had some bodies dug up.”

“Macomb,” I said. I knew vaguely where it was- south of highway nine, east of where I lived, but pretty easy driving distance. I’d have to look at a map to be sure, but definitely a place I could drive out and back from in a day and still have plenty of time to get up to trouble. “You actually found a local crime to accuse me of, you’re getting a bit better at your job.” He rolled his eyes.

“What’s going on in Macomb?”

“Well, like I said, some bodies went missing. The cops say it’s funny, it’s almost like they dug themselves out."

"Well, they shouldn't be doin that," I said.

"Right? Coffins are there, just the bodies are gone. I know you’re gonna say it wasn’t you, but it wasn’t you, was it? That’s close enough that you probably draw power from that cemetery. Even if it was an accident?”

“There’s closer cemeteries. Norman has at least two that I know of.”

“Well, that’s fair,” he said. “I gotta ask. Necromancy shit in our neck of the woods? I gotta ask, Tabby.”

“Don’t call me that,” I said.

“Was it you?” he insisted.

“No, it wasn’t me,” I said.

“Alright, that’s all I needed to ask.” Once he'd asked and I'd answered, that was it, he didn't pester me about it again.

“Are you trying to get my help, or do you want to wander around with your thumb up your butt for a few days first?”

“Come on, Tabitha. We’ll pay you the usual rates,” he said.

I sighed at him, just so he knew I was annoyed. “Let me put some pants on and run a brush through my hair, and then I need to see the graves.”

“We’re taking my pickup,” he said. “So, if you’ve got a step stool-”

“Ha ha,” I said. “Wait here.” I took my sketchbook inside, and dropped it on the table by the door, went to find a brush and change into jeans. Grabbed my kit- it’s just got standard odds and ends that one might need when casting on the go, some prepared spells, all stuffed in an ancient maroon Jansport.

I’m probably going to have to get a new bag soon, I’ve had this one since 8th grade, and it’s really starting to wear out.

We head out.

He’s got a 70s Ford pickup he’s been restoring, to sell. Well, he’s been ‘restoring’ it about as long as I’ve been cleaning the house out so I can sell it, maybe longer, and I've been living in the house near a decade, so. Take that as you will.

It’s in decent shape on the inside, and the a/c works, and it’s matte primer gray on the outside, has been for years now.

The road out where I live is dirt, and then it goes to gravel, before you get on something paved.

He looked up in the rearview mirror. “You know, I just figured it was someone else who lived out this way when I came out, but I do believe I’m being followed.”

I looked in the sideview mirror. There was someone behind us, but it was hard to see them through all the dust the truck was kicking up.

Magic came rushing at the mirror, and snapped it off.

“Rude,” I said.

“Did they just snap off my mirror?”

I started cranking the window down. “Turn left if you have to turn, warn me if there’s a right curve,” I said, unbuckling my belt, and wrapping it around my leg. “But try to go straight as you can, that’ll help me aim.”

“It’ll help them aim, too.”

“Don’t worry about them.” Magic whined as it pinged off the vehicle. “You really should shield the pickup.”

“I’m just gonna sell it.”

I pulled myself out of the seat to sit on the window, one hand gripping the ‘oh shit’ handle, my legs clenching the door.

Late model SUV, something dark. I could see why he recognized it right away- it was a sort of dark red and had an engine snorkel. Also some extra lights on front- someone goes out in this truck. Mudding, looks like.

They had someone standing up through the sun/moon roof firing spells at us. He was using something that looks like a gun. That’s pretty common, these days, wands resembling guns.

Wands are a type of prepared spell, they hold charges and you fire off the charges until you’re out. Most people mostly use prepared spells.

Most people just can’t hold that much magic inside their bodies- there’s an upper limit- and so the best way to store the magic they gather from the wind or the stars or the grass or whatever their thing is to make spells and put the magic there. Even the more powerful witches, witches like me with a larger capacity for magic, they tend to store a lot in prepared spells.

Most sources trickle it in. So if you blow your magical load, as it were, you have to wait for it to come back. Recharge under a starlit sky where the light pollution is low. Or lay in the tickling grass.

There’s some exceptions. Sun witches- rare- basically can refuel constantly. Oh, it’s night? Oh, it’s cloudy? The heat in the ground beneath your feet comes from the sun. The sun is a constant, even when it’s not out. Sea witches, too- they have to be in range of the coast, but within that range, powerful. There’s also rumor of one lady up in the midwest who gathers her power specifically from the Great Lakes, and she’s supposed to be one of the most powerful witches in the world.

You know what's also around all the time? Dead shit.

If it is now dead and was ever alive, even briefly, it belongs to me.

Like his wand, a bit of dead wood. I sucked the power out of his wand, and whipped it out of his hand. “Knock it the fuck off!” I shout. I could barely see him, but he looked young.

He swore, shaking his hand. “Ram them!”

The driver I could see even less of, but I could see him shaking his head.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” I said.

It takes a deep spike of power- the older and longer dead something is, the more briefly it was alive, the harder it is to fuck with.

Gasoline, for example, is derived from something that died at least 66 million years ago, so it’s kind of a big one.

The driver managed not to roll the car off the road as the car engine suddenly stopped working, and Callahan came to a stop.

I figured they'd be alright, they go out mudding, they're used to shit going wrong.

“The hell did you do? It took a ton of power. My nose hairs are burning.”

“Turned their gas into mesozoic algae for long enough to shut their car off,” I said.

"What?"

"Gas is made from crude oil. Crude oil is dead shit. Specifically, algae and plankton from the mesozoic."

"Huh. Your nose is bleeding," he said.

I wiped at my nose, untangled myself from the seatbelt, and managed to dismount from the window and land on both feet, which is about as much as I could ask for.

My right eye was throbbing- I’d drained myself to the last drop for that.

Still, there was a dead skunk on the road, and dead tree limbs, and I breathed magic in. The ache receded, but probably wouldn’t go away until I'd slept.

I walked up to their SUV, the driver keeping both hands on the wheel, like I was a cop. “Hey,” I said. “What the fuck?” I put my hand on the car, and converted all the ancient ocean sludge back into gas. That was easier, but it still made my eye throb.

The wand wielder jumped out of the SUV and got up in my face, tried to shove me against the car, but Callahan grabbed him and pulled him back.

“My grandparents crawled out of their grave, and everybody knows they got a pet necromancer around here. I want them back.”

Now, I’m not actually that easy to intimidate, and he was just a snot-nosed kid who’s barely old enough to drink, if that. But he was also angry to cover up being scared.

“Well, we’re on our way to find out what’s happened. Having to stop for your bullshit isn’t helpful," Callahan said.

“Everybody knows it was you.”

“Sweetheart, if I was raising the dead, why would I start with your kin? I don’t know you, I don't know your grandparents."

He looked at the driver. He had bleached his hair and it was a sort of peachy pink that could have been intentional or it could have been to light a pink over too orange a bleach. The driver had blue-black hair that was definitely box dye. They both looked indecisive.

"It’s probably someone who know your grandparents. It’s like a murder- it’s almost always someone who knows the victim,” I said. He's just a grieving kid, they both are.

“But you’re the only necromancer in the state, maybe the country,” he said. His heart wasn't really in it, though. He was just upset.

“I’m not a necromancer,” I said. “I am a death witch. It’s not the same thing. They died recently?”

He nodded. “We spent a lot of time living with em, Mom was in and out of rehab, and Dad… I don’t know. He wasn’t around until we were older.”

“You get your magic from this side, or your Daddy’s side?”

“They had magic, but they say I got mine from Dad, and he gets his from Mom.” He jerked his head at his brother in the driver's seat.

“Okay. Why don’t you get out in front, we’ll head on out to the gas station, because I need a fuckin energy drink, and then we can go take a look. Sometimes I can see stuff nobody else can, and I have a good nose for corpses.”

“You really think you can find them?”

"I don't know for sure about finding their bodies, but I'm positive we'll get to the bottom of this," I said.

He nodded and, almost sheepish, headed back to the SUV.

“Just try and start her again,” I told the driver. “I’ll top you off at the Valero station, that trick probably pulled some out of your tank.”

The car started, and they pulled around us and sped off.

“You think they’ll be at the gas station?” Callahan asked.

“Mmm. Fifty fifty, but they’ll be at the cemetery, which is what I really care about. C’mon, I want a Monster.”

“You keep drinking that crap, your heart’ll stop.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I say, climbing into the truck. “Let’s go.”

Next> Latest>>

If you read this and enjoyed it, maybe you want to help out and contribute to my ko-fi? I'm disabled and that's the best way for me to earn a living right now! Check out my masterpost for other fiction.

[messrmoonyy]

- rest stop

Joel miller x Fem!reader

Request- Hiiiii. You one write a fic of reader x Tess trying to be quiet even travelling with joel and Ellie. And I was wondering would you do something like that with reader and Joel. But also make it car smex 👀👀 maybe when they’re camping out in the woods and Ellie’s asleep but Joel and reader get busy in the truck they take from Bill? Please

A/N- long time now post huh! This is my first time writing Joel. Which is wild after being in the fandom so long and because I really wanna fuck that old man . But the Joel x reader girlies scare me a bit lmao ( why are so many of you children? ) anyways. So this is my first attempt at Joel and kinda became like if you put Troy’s Joel and Pedros Joel in a blender. And it spit out this Joel. My Joel. Enjoy.

Warnings- 18+ MDNI || implied age gap( reader is mentioned to be born pre outbreak and was too young to drive pre outbreak too. Making reader at bare minimum 20 years old ), smut: car sex, unprotected p in v, fingering ( reader receiving ) prawn with a bit of plot. ( wc- 5.3k )

AO3 | Masterlist

“- if tanks were so damn useful why would they just abandon them on the road like this? Oh right probably for road blocks right? I heard they used cars and trucks to block people trying to leave cities and towns but wouldn’t that just make things worse? I think- “

Ellie had been yapping for the better part of 2 hours. You didn’t know how she constantly had something to talk about. It was as if she could link any subject to something else with just a beat. One moment be discussing the comic she’d stolen from Bills and then somehow end up on a 45 minute tangent about tanks. 

You’d all been driving most of the day and she’d been talking the majority of it. The only silence had been when she’d given into sleep for a couple hours around lunch time, but woken up and gone straight back to it. It was fascinating to you how much she’d opened up in a short space of time. 

Joel looked ready to screw up his other ear too to fully drown her out at this rate. His hands grasping the steering wheel so hard his bruised knuckles were blanching. You felt a little bad for him, he truly was getting the brunt of it after you’d let Ellie take the front seat. She’d been so excited about being in a car and so you’d let her claim the front seat for a while. 

You’d gotten quite the glare from Joel for that. 

“ - I think if I had a car I’d like one like this. Like a truck. You know? You can fit more stuff in it. Hey, did you have a car?” Ellie’s head popped around the car seat to look at you in the back with a bright smile on her face 

“ no Ellie. My dad had a busted up work van but that was about it. I wasn’t old enough to drive. Joel was though, weren’t you Joel? “ you smiled and she laughed at that 

“ right. Did you have a truck? You must’ve cause-“ Joel caught your eye in the rear view mirror, a mildly pissed expression on his face at you directing the conversation right back onto him. You just gave him a wink and went back to flicking through one of the magazines you’d stolen from Frank's pile back in Lincoln- which were thankfully far more PG than the ones Ellie had found belonging to Bill. All ancient gossip magazines, celebrities having their red carpet looks ripped to shreds. It made you smile a little to try to imagine any of them now. Was there a clicker stumbling around in shredded haute couture? 

After another 30 minutes or so Joel seemed to have finally reached his daily limit of Ellie’s roadside ramblings and declared it was time to stop for the night. 

“ alright. That’s it for today. Goddamn kid “ he grumbled and slowed down a little as he turned off the highway and through a bumpy field- that Ellie found highly amusing as she jostled in her seat- and into a stretch of woods. Thankfully the trees were wide enough for him to manoeuvre Bills ancient Chevy deep enough in that it couldn’t be spotted from the road. Not that you expected anyone else had a damn car this far out from a QZ these days. 

And after an equally talkative dinner of long expired tinned ravioli, in which Joel tried and failed to teach Ellie some table manners like the true southern gent he seemed to be deep deep down. You all set up and settled in for the night. 

You were used to sleeping on the ground. 

Whether that was from the weeks it had been since leaving Boston. Or from the times you, Joel and Tess had travelled your ways over to Bill and Franks. Hell even your bed back in the zone may as well have been the ground with how fucking uncomfortable it was. 

But for some reason you just couldn’t drift off tonight. 

Ellie had had no trouble once Joel had promised her they’d be safe out here. She was flat out in her sleeping bag, mouth hanging open, snoring softly. You’d think the kid was in a luxury hotel, not a musty sleeping bag on the forest floor. 

You looked up at the dark night sky above you, the trees blocking out the majority of the view. It was a little spooky, just like Ellie had secretly whispered when you’d all been settling down to sleep. 

You turned your head, trying to locate Joel. He’d insisted on there being a watch. You thought it was pointless, you were all out in the middle of nowhere. No where close to any towns or cities that a group of raiders could have set up camp in. There’d be no infected out this way either. But he’d been his usual stubborn self and declared they needed a watch. And he’d go first. Of course. Because that meant he could stay up all right and ‘forget’ to switch with you. 

Stubborn bastard through and through. 

And so there he was now, sat up in the truck. 

He had one of the camping lanterns he’d taken from Bill propped on the dash, softly illuminating the space so he could see what he was doing. His face stern in concentration as he tapped the end of a pencil against his scruff covered chin. 

He was taking this job seriously for a man that didn’t want to do it. 

But Tess had always been the driving force in your little trio. She was the brains. You were more often than not the distraction. And Joel the braun. It had worked so well. Until well… it hadn’t. And Joel respected Tess enough to fulfil her dying wish. 

Even if that was taking this random kid half way across the damn country chasing a lead so half cooked it was basically raw. 

You watched him for a while longer. How handsome he looked in the dim lamp light. The frown lines that seemed permanently engraved into his face, the way his brows furrowed as he concentrated - creating the little wrinkles in between

You missed kissing those lines. Tracing your fingers over them in the half lit apartment you’d shared in Boston, close enough to the outside wall that there was a constant chunk of light from the watchtowers seeping through the half destroyed curtains. 

God you missed him. Curling up to him for warmth. His large hands tracing soft patterns on your back, whispering lowly in your ear when you woke up from a nightmare. 

He’d never been one for PDA. And then with the whole… Tess thing. And Bill and Frank thing. And well… everything. He had barely touched you since that morning before you’d ended up with the kid. And that was weeks ago. 

Maybe it was a little silly. In the space of a few weeks you’d lost three friends. Gained a kid. Gained a whole fuck load of responsibility for said kid… and yet here you were lusting over Joel in your sleeping bag? Stupid. 

Or… maybe not. Maybe it was… what was needed. A distraction. Something good in the shitty shit pile you’d found yourself in. 

Well that’s what you told yourself anyway as you double checked Ellie was still snoring. And climbed out of your sleeping bag. 

You pulled open the passenger side door of the truck, climbing up into the seat and closing the door carefully behind you. Joel had the map spread out on the dash in front of him, flask of coffee in one hand and a pencil in the other. Because coffee had been dubbed very important in the ‘ only grab the essentials ‘ talk before they’d left Lincoln. Obviously. 

“ ain’t your turn for watch yet darlin’ “ he mumbled, not looking up from the map. It had a bunch of scribbles and arrows. Clearly his nonsensical version of directions that you would no doubt have to try figure out tomorrow. It also seemed like Ellie had gotten a hold of the pencil at some point, some of the areas Joel had crossed off as suspecting to be total no goes in terms of infected, now had little monster faces scribbled beside them. 

“ I know. Can’t sleep “ you said as you slumped back in the seat and glanced back out towards Ellie. Still out like a light, the little camping lamp by her feet casting a soft glow over their makeshift camp. 

He hummed a response. Setting his flask into the drinks holder and letting his hand drop absentmindedly onto your thigh instead. 

“ Tryna figure out the quickest route from here to Cody but… most of these highways here will probably be blocked off from way back when “ he pointed with the pencil at some of his scribbles and lines. “ some of these smaller towns might not be so bad for bunking down for a night but can’t be too sure. Close to highways. Good for raiders “ 

And he’d know all about that wouldn’t he

You’d joined the little group heading for Boston right at the last hurdle. Had only partook in one or two raids. You were young. Pretty. They’d throw you out as a distraction to lure people in and the others did the most of the dirty work. But you’d heard the stories. And you’d been around Tess and Joel long enough to know what they were capable of. What you were capable of now too. 

“ sooo… that way?” You asked, pointing at what seemed to be his planned route for now. But if you were honest. You weren’t focussing on the map at all. Or what he was talking about 

“ what? No. That’s a no go. Absolutely fuckin not. Look here- “ his thumb started rubbing soft circles into your jean covered thigh and it was like an off switch had flipped on your ears. Not taking in a single word he was saying to you. Not when he was touching you for the first time in weeks. Even if it was just a tiny pathetic thing like that. 

It made your mind drift. Memories of his lips right there. The soft tickle and burn his scruff would cause as he kissed your skin. It made your pussy throb just thinking about it. 

“ - there’s likely to be infected here. And here. Which leads us with no choice but to head up here to KC. But big city like that was probably locked down, ain’t really heard much on it so I don’t know if it’s even still an active quar- you even listenin?” His hand squeezed your thigh softly and you cleared your throat blinking quickly 

“ what? Sure I’m. I’m listening. Ugh KC. KC. Kansas city?” 

“ lucky guess “ he grumbled and let his eyes drift back to his map “ why don’t you try get some sleep?” 

His hand was still on your thigh, his thumb back to rubbing soft circles. God how was something so tiny making you want to scream?

“ not even tired “

You closed your eyes a moment letting out a slow, deep exhale. Get it together you idiot. 

But Joel knew you well. Knew your body well. And you didn’t have to open your eyes to see the smirk on his face when he spoke again 

“ oh. I see how it is baby girl “ you wanted to scoff. Or scowl. Or tell him maybe he should get some sleep because clearly he was imagining things. But then his hand moved up. Deft fingers unbuttoning your jeans and pulling down the fly. 

He really could read you like a damn book couldn’t he?

 “ this the real reason you came in here huh?” He murmured as his thick fingers slipped through your slick folds, dragging the slippery mess you were making up to your clit. 

Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment, your head tipping back against the worn leather of the seats headrest “ asked you a question there babygirl “ 

You whined in response. How could you possibly form a solid thought- never mind a sentence- when his finger was working at your clit like that. Slow but purposeful circles that were making your legs feel like jelly already. 

God you were pathetic. A couple weeks without his cock and this is what it was doing to you? 

“ so what if it was?” You whispered, your hips involuntarily rocking up against his hand. 

Even just the slightest touches from him made you want to cry out in a mixture of frustration and pleasure. Like there was an open nerve, exposed and raw, and his focussed touch sent sparks shooting up your spine. 

“ naughty little thing “ he murmured as he kept working at you with his thick fingers, wrestling the the tight constraints of your jeans to try get his hand in a little more “ tell me what y’need “ 

“ you “ you whined without a moment’s hesitation “ you Joel you “ 

He was always such a smug bastard. The smirk on his face at your response made you want to jump right out of the car just to piss him off. But you didn’t have the self control for that. Not even remotely. Especially when you had his fingers pressing at your entrance like that, the muscles already contracting as if trying to pull him in. 

But two could play that game. 

You reached over and flicked off the lantern. The last thing you needed was this being visible if Ellie woke up. And then your hand moved over to his half hard cock starting to tent his jeans. 

He gave a soft grunt of a sound as you palmed at him through the worn denim. 

“ acting like you’re not in the mood for it too old man?” You whispered, already a little breathless just from his fingers. 

He doesn’t answer you with words. But one of his fingers pushed into your welcoming warmth, making you gasp and your eyes flutter closed for a moment 

“ look at that “ he murmured as he carefully added a second with a slightly embarrassing amount of ease “ suckin me in so tight… tryna keep me right here doll? Right here?” your soft velvety walls squeeze around him in answer. Desperate for anything after weeks of absolutely nothing. 

Everything about Joel was so big. You were damn sure not a single other person could make you feel this good with their fingers alone. Your own fingers never even made a dent in the sensations he gave you. Your cunt stretching around his digits almost obscenely. Gripping onto him in a way that was down right pathetic. 

“ there y’are. Relax f’me sweet pea “ he mutters, feeling you open up more as warm waves of pleasure washed over your body. The space inside you welcoming him back home after so long without him “ good girl, open up f’me… there we go “ 

Your hand was still idly palming at his crotch, but god damn was it hard to focus when he was speaking to you like that. Touching you like that. 

Your free hand grasped onto his arm as he kept steadily fucking you open with his fingers, soft sopping sounds filling the truck in a way that made you whimper softly. The tendons and muscles in his arm flexing under your finger tips with every purposeful curl of his fingers. 

“ Joel “ 

“ I know baby I know “ he crooned “ gonna come on my fingers? “ you nodded eagerly, writhing around in the seat, eyes closed as you focused on how good he was making you feel and nothing else. Not even embarrassed at how fast he’d gotten you to the edge. You’d been lusting after him for two weeks without getting anything, so you weren’t much surprised.  

“ y-yeah. Gonna come for you Joel “ you whispered as his fingers curled up, his thumb pressing against your clit. It made a choked sound escape you in some hopeless attempt to keep your volume levels down. “ fuck- Joel “

“ shh shhh nice and quiet. Don’t need ya wakin the kid before I’ve even had you on my cock sweet pea “ the half promise of finally getting something more than his fingers was enough to spur you on. To have your hips rocking up to meet the pumping motions of his fingers. Just enough to have you tumbling over the edge. 

Your fingers digging into the tanned skin of his arm as you bit down on your bottom lip, back arching off the worn leather as your orgasm washed over you in a powerful, blissful wave. Trying as hard as you possibly could to be quiet. But some soft squeaks and whines slipped out your throat anyway “Joel”

“ there we go. That’s my good girl. Nice and quiet “ he murmured as he worked you through it, pumping his fingers in and out as best he could with your jeans still on “ makin a fuckin mess of my hand. Reckon I ain’t ever see you this wet “ he teased as he gently brought his hand to a stop when your death grip on his wrist released. Little crescent shaped marks left in place of your fingers. 

“ fuck you miller “ you panted softly which made him chuckle. That deep rumble of a sound that often sounded more sarcastic than joyful. But you could usually drag some kind of joy out of him. Usually. 

“ I do plan on it babygirl “ he smirked as he pulled his hand free, his fingers soaked up to the knuckle. The shiny sticky mess catching on the thin chunk of moonlight making its way through the trees and into the truck. 

Maybe he had been right. Smug bastard. 

You watched him with half lidded eyes still catching your breath, as he sucked them clean. It made your blood boil hot, your cunt clench around nothing. Missing those magic fingers of his deep inside you already.  

“ missed your sweet taste babygirl “ 

oh the things you’d do to have him between your thighs right now. That familiar sensation of friction burn from his beard, his strong hands keeping your thighs spread. Refusing to let you close them until he’d made you come on his face multiple times. Not stopping until your were a shaking sobbing mess. 

But that would have to wait for Jackson.  

Your hand still laid idle on his now clearly fully hard cock in his jeans and a gentle squeeze of your fingers made him grunt. 

“ get over here. Now “ he muttered, you didn’t need to be told twice. 

It was not even remotely as easy or sexy as the books you read made it out to be. In fact it was damn right awkward. Wrestling your jeans off in the small space, especially when you were still trembling just a little. Clambering your way onto his lap as he wrestled with the stiff seat lever to try shove it back and give him more space.  

“ goddamn piece of shit Chevy “ Joel huffed and finally managed to get the seat to shift back a little. It was only a couple inches extra room. But it was better than nothing. 

Now wasn’t particularly the best time- or place- for making it last or wasting anymore time on foreplay. So you settled in his lap and immediately reached for his belt, tugging it open. 

“ aw. Come in your pants old man?” You grinned as you unbuttoned his jeans, noticing a small damp spot on his boxers. Clearly only pre come. But you’d never miss an opportunity to call him old. 

“ shut up, brat “ he grumbled, grasping your hips and squeezing in a silent request to lift up. Right. You were in kind of a rush here. Ellie could decide to wake up at any minute. And you weren’t in the mood to be interrupted.  

You lifted your hips as he wrapped a hand around his leaking cock, gently rubbing the tip back and forth between your slick folds. The action making your breath hitch a little, still so sensitive “ you want it?” He murmured, coating himself in your wetness, occasionally notching himself at your entrance for just a second before moving again “ tell me. Tell me how bad this pretty little pussy wants it “ 

“ god Joel “ you whispered, pressing your forehead onto his for a moment “ need it so bad. Been thinking about it every damn day “ He just chuckled and stole a kiss before gently nudging his blunt tip to your weeping entrance again. 

“ yeah? This what you need baby?” He said as he gently pushed in, hands tight on your hips to ease you down inch by tantalising inch “ that’s it babygirl let me in... So fuckin wet f’me… “ he murmured, pushing gently against the resistance of your cunt. Shushing you softly when a sweet whimper escaped your lips as he slipped in deeper and deeper “ shit you’re always so goddamn tight f’me “ 

Your lips part in a steady exhale as he eases his way in, stretching out your soft warm walls as your body welcomes him back home. Settling into the space inside you like it was carved out exactly for him, made for him. Maybe it was. 

He fit with you so perfectly. Your hips flush as his tip kissed your cervix in a way that would’ve been painful if he was even a half inch bigger. It was truly the most perfect fit. 

“ y’okay?” He murmured because sure Joel liked to fuck you like an animal in heat most of the time. But he was nothing if not a gentleman when it came to consent. 

Southern charm and all that. 

“ Hell yeah “ you whisper with a soft laugh that makes him chuckle as you wriggle your hips a little, reminding yourself how incredible it felt to have the thick weight of him inside you again “ missed this. Missed you “

“ missed my cock more like babygirl “

“ it’s one and the same “ 

“ maybe “ he scoffed and rubbed gentle circles onto your hips with his thumbs as he let you adjust as long as you needed. Sitting there completely stuffed full, the pressure almost overwhelming at first. 

You start to move after a few moments, your hands resting on his shoulders for leverage as you push yourself up and down on his cock, building a painstakingly slow rhythm. You had to take it slow. No matter how many times you’d fucked him it always took you a minute to get used to him again. 

You could tell he wanted more. In an ideal world he’d have you bent over the hood of the truck hammering into you like his life depended on it. One hand yanking your hair the other squeezing your hip. Or pinning your hands behind your back if he was feeling like being a real dick. 

But this wasn’t an ideal world. So he’d take what you could give him. And he wasn’t a total bastard. He knew you needed to take it at your own pace right now. So he’d let you. 

“ that’s my girl. Take it easy “ he murmured, his breath warm on your face, your lips just a few inches apart “ look how pretty you look takin my cock like that “ he brushes his thumb across your bottom lip for a moment before he pulls you to his mouth, your lips pressing together hungrily in a eager kiss. He swallows your soft whines and moans “ nice and easy doll. Nice and easy. Quiet f’me “ he murmured against your lips, pressing more soft but determined pecks between his words 

Once you were reacquainted with his cock stretching out your cunt just right. You gave him a small nod and shifted in his lap to let him take over. And your thighs were already starting to burn from the awkward angle

“ made for me ain’t you baby? “ he grunted as if reading your mind. Feeling the way his cock fit inside you so perfectly. Each careful rise and fall of your body letting you feel every ridge. Every vein. Rubbing against your insides in the most delicious way. “ just f’me “

“ yes Joel “ you nodded because truly you felt you were. He’d ruined you for life. You were damn certain no other man could compare. No other man could make you feel this way. 

“ that’s my good girl, takin it so well f’me “ his hands still grasped the plush flesh of your hips, letting you go at your own pace. For now anyway 

“ i miss our shitty bed “ you whispered breathlessly into his neck, you hands grasping his shoulders as he lazily started to fuck up into you, keeping your pace but helping you out just a little. And unable to control himself. Still keeping it slow, probably more on account of the fact you were useless at being quiet. And Ellie was only a few feet away “ a roof over our head “

“ I know baby girl “ he grunted giving you another squeeze “ second we find Tommy I’m takin you to the closet fuckin bed I can find “ at least he was still being optimistic that Tommy might still be in the settlement he’d mentioned exactly once before going radio silent. 

A bed sure did sound nice though. 

You missed lazy morning sex when he’d wake you up with his hand rubbing you through your underwear and his morning wood poking your back. Or having your body damn near folded in half as he pounded into you so hard your brain turned to utter mush, legs hooked over his shoulders like a rag doll. 

“ promises promises old man “ you whispered, shifting in his lap so that your clit brushed the soft thatch of hair at his base in the most delicious way “ shit “

“ that’s it baby girl. Take what ya need “ you rocked your hips, your slick making his curls sticky and warm. He met your pace, sensing your growing desperation, thrusting up into you quicker. Harder. You looked down at where your body’s joined, the way your pussy lips spread obscenely around his thick length. A hint of creamy whiteness starting to stick to his greying curls, more than likely the evidence of your first orgasm. 

“ y’like that huh baby?” He murmured as he caught you watching, that stupid fucking smirk on his face again that you could never be certain if you wanted to kiss it off him. Or slap it off him “ lookin at how messy you're bein f’me?”

“ yeah” you panted, squeezing down on him, your walls fluttering around the deep intrusion of him. Gripping him. Sucking him in. 

“ keep doin that shit and I’ll blow right now “ he grunted, making you smile as you squeezed down on him again just for good measure 

“ easy there old man “ 

“ I’ll give you old fuckin man “ he muttered and readjusted his grip on your body, his hands splaying over your hips as he shifted in the seat “ old fuckin man “ he pushed your body down on his cock with more force than before.

Clearly done being patient. 

You gasped loudly, clamping a hand down on your mouth when you realised just how loud you’d been. Desperately grasping at him with your free hand as he used you like a damn fleshlight, his grip on your hips bruising rather than gentle now. 

And god did you hope it’d bruise. 

“ that’s it baby girl. Take it. C’mon it’s what you wanted ain’t it? You been thinkin about this? Layin out there too fuckin horny to even sleep? Ain’t that right?” He’d always had a damn filthy mouth. Always knew exactly how to make your cheeks flame and pussy throb. Which had surprised you at first. For a man so silent and grumpy in public, he sure could get vocal in the bedroom. Or the truck you figured  “ this what you needed? Needed fillin up babygirl?” 

You nodded eagerly, your brows furrowed and eyes closed as his decelerate thrusts knocked every whisp of air out your lungs. Your brain going foggy. Lost in the sensations of his cock stretching you out, hitting the most devastating spot inside you with every thrust of his hips. Every drag of the heavy weight against your sensitive walls, still sparking like a live wire from your first orgasm“ use your words. Tell me “ 

“ god- Joel. “ you could barely form a sentence with him fucking you like that. The truck shaking with the efforts. Creaking softly like a scene from one of those cheap and cheesy 80s movies Joel has shown you before. 

“ c’mon now. Use that pretty mouth of yours. And tell me “ he said firmly. Mockingly. Still slamming you down to meet his deep thrusts 

“ y-yes this is… what I needed “ you panted out, eyes fluttering closed as you clawed at his shoulders , face falling into his neck “ missed you so bad. Missed your cock Joel “ you whined pathetically, muffling your sounds against his skin

“ yeah baby I know “ he whispered, breathless himself “ I know. Needed it so bad huh? Needed this pretty pussy fillin up. I know “ 

His hand slipped down between your bodies and he started working at your clit again. Quick and purposeful movements that matched the rhythm of his ever increasingly frantic thrusts. You were so wet he could barely even find any friction.

“ fuck Joel I’m- “ you moaned loudly against his neck, cutting yourself off as you felt your body growing hotter. The knot deep in your belly getting tighter and tighter 

“ I know sweet pea. Gonna come all over my cock? Yeah? “ he grunted and you knew that tone of voice. That breathless, husky tone. He was just as close as you were “ gonna be a good girl f’me? Can feel you grippin me like a damn vice. Know you need it “

You nodded quickly, nails digging into his shoulders as you struggled more and more to control the sounds slipping past your lips. The sound of your skin hitting his filling the truck, the lewd wet sounds of your cunt sucking him in. Soaking him. The sticky, filthy mess you were making. And then the dam broke. 

The combined sensations of his fingers. His cock. His husky voice in your ear. You were a goner. Biting down on his shoulder to try to dampen some of your whines and squeals of pleasure. Your entire body trembling and twitching in his lap, clamping down on him in a way that clearly was enough for Joel too. 

Because he’d barely pulled you off him when he spilt his load onto your thigh with a deep, sexy moan. The hot sticky mess painting your skin. 

Sometimes you wished he’d finish inside. Fill you to the brim with his load. But the last thing you needed was a goddamn baby. 

The trucks windows had fogged up now. The air in their thick and warm, sweat beading on Joel’s forehead. You looked down to see the hair covering your mound sticky and messy, Joel’s own greying curls exactly the same. You really hoped there was a river or creek somewhere around here. You hadn’t entirely thought about the aftermath. 

Thinking with your pussy and not your brain. Clearly. 

But it was worth it. 

“ well holy shit “ you whispered and laughed a little as you pushed your hair from your own sweaty face “ never let me go that long without you again “ 

Joel raised an eyebrow and then chuckled himself, shaking his head, his hand gently rubbing along your side. So gentle and tender compared to how he’d just been knocking the air out of your lungs. 

“ Whatever you say sweet pea “ he pressed a kiss to your lips. Far too sweet for a man like him, but you’d never complain “ now get your ass back in that sleeping bag and get some sleep “ 

You grinned against his lips and stole another kiss before giving him a mock salute 

“ yes sir “

[luveline]

Ahh I’m so obsessed with stripper!reader and Spencer!! Do you have any more thoughts about them you’d be willing to share, maybe just a snippet of their life together? So so in love with them and your writing in general

i got a different request for them that I lost about reader struggling to afford essentials and so I thought I’d combine them, I hope that’s ok!! <;3 fem, 1.1k

cw food insecurity/ poverty 

You attempt to save money, but the ten dollars you don't spend on shampoo and conditioner gets used on painkillers. You hide fifty dollars in a book and try to forget about it, but your shoes split open on the walk to work, and it takes all afternoon to find it again. You try so hard to stretch your paycheck and something new makes it impossible. 

So it's a cold night in late December and you spent all your money for food on the gas bill. Your stomach hurts, but at least your nose isn't that horrible stiff cold that distracts. 

It's not just that your stomach hurts, though. You feel miserable about everything, and you know you need to ask someone for help. You've thought about selling something, but you already pawned your watch, and everything else is inconsequential. 

I could sell my phone… but how would I talk to Spencer? 

It's the stupidest thought you could've had. More importantly, how would you communicate with work? How would you call your electric and gas company, or talk to your landlord? 

Spencer would be so sad if he knew you’d sold your phone to pay for food. He’d probably be upset knowing you considered it. And you won’t get paid for another three days, so unless you can somehow live off of olives and cherries from the club bar, you have to ask Spencer for money or get a loan. With your credit score, one situation is more likely than the other. 

You bring your phone across the pillow and sigh before clicking on his contact. He’s practically the only number you call. 

“Hello?” you ask. 

“Hi, Y/N.” 

“Hello, handsome,” you murmur, staging an affect of someone who couldn’t be more unbothered by the world. 

“Yeah, hi. You okay?” 

You don’t want to butter him up. It feels dishonest. You should be straight forward. “Spencer. You know I hate asking you for things.” 

“Yes, it’s the only bad thing about you.” He sounds like he’s smiling. You can imagine him on his couch reading something obscure, or watching one of his sci-fi shows, curls in his eyes, grey pyjamas too short for him riding up his calves as they tend to do.

“But I need– um. I don’t have any money?” You don’t mean to phrase it like a question. “Like. Okay, so, I promise you I am not an irresponsible person, just, my gas bill went up and I didn’t know, but it’s so cold I paid it anyways, and now I have three dollars. Um. Total. And I haven’t eaten all day and I’m sorry I’m asking, but I just need like twenty dollars until I get paid on Tuesday. Could you let me borrow twenty dollars, please?” 

“Do you want to get takeout?” 

You cringe. “No, like, twenty dollars for groceries, Spence.” 

“No, I understood. That’s fine, I’ll happily give you twenty dollars. But you said you haven’t eaten today? And I miss you, so it’s an excuse?” Now he’s the one making questions out of statements. “I can get us Thai food.” 

Your stomach pangs at the thought. No matter how much you hate this, you know he loves you enough to want to bring you dinner, and you really will pay him back, so he might as well. “Yeah, please. I’d love to see you, Dr. Reid.”

“I’ll be quick,” he promises. 

He isn’t. You wonder if he’s forgotten you and your rumbling stomach, curled into a c-shape under the sheets. It’s warm, at least, nearly too warm, the blade of your hunger threatening to drive you mad. It’s not a nice feeling, depending on the kindness of a friend to see you through, nor is it very pleasant to be this hungry. You’ve gone hungry a hundred times, and this is the only time you’ve ever had someone you trusted enough to turn to during that time to ask for help. What if Spencer’s decided he isn’t comfortable with your lending after all and he doesn’t come over tonight? 

You’d been looking forward to seeing him again. It’s almost worse than the hunger. 

Just as you’re thinking he’s decided he doesn’t want to be your friend anymore, he lets himself in. 

Your apartment is small, consisting of three rooms. The bedroom, the bathroom, and the living room kitchen combination. He lets himself into the living room with a cacophony of rustling and a called, “Hello!” followed soon by a muttered swear. 

You laugh under your breath.

“Are you coming out here, or do you want to eat dinner in bed?” he asks. 

“I haven’t decided yet.” 

It’s quiet enough besides his arrival that you’ve no need to shout.

“Well, stay there if you want. Have you been drinking anything? I brought iced tea and some stuff for you to have breakfast tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” You force yourself to sit up. One moment you’re looking at the closed door and the next you’re squinting against the light of the kitchen, Spencer in the doorway like a silhouette against it. “Hey, Spence. You’re taller than last time.” 

“I’m the same size as always.”

“You’re still wearing your shoes. That must be it.” 

Spencer takes off his shoes and crosses the short distance to you. “Hi,” he says, taking your hand as he sits down. His fingers are freezing. “Sorry I took a while.”

“Sorry for asking you for money.” 

“It’s okay. It’s not something to worry about. Everyone has to ask a favour sometime.” 

His hair is wind blown, his eyes watery. The cold weather has nipped his pert nose a rosy pink and he’s smiling at you with chapped lips, unaware of or uncaring about his own circumstances in the face of yours. “You okay?” he asks, his pretty brown eyes narrowing, eyebrows pinching together at the starts. “You can’t just not eat all day and not tell me.”

You nod tightly. It’s humiliating to be in this position. 

He softens. “Did they tell you the rate was rising? It’s illegal in Virginia–”

You take your hand from his. “They sent me a letter I didn’t open. I knew it would be bad news.” 

Spencer looks down at your knees. “I know that you’re used to doing things by yourself, but you don’t have to anymore.”

“‘Cos you look after me,” you say quietly. 

“I’m trying to.” 

You laugh and jog your joined hands to make him look up. “Okay. Look after me some more then and give me a hug. I’m too warm, and you’re freezing.” 

He hugs you tightly, quick to rub your shoulder blade with his thumb. “Stay here, okay? I’ll bring you a plate.” 

You cling to him for a few seconds, until hunger wins, and you send him off into the kitchen again.