#and every time i try looking up information about taking care of strays it makes it seem cruel to give these cats

[introvert-celeste]

.

[qlossytbh]

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 the time where you had just a little too much to drink after a party at rossis and spencer takes care of you

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 alcohol intoxication, drinking, reader gets sick, emetophobia, a bit of suggestiveness (?), lots of pet names, spencer’s a sweetheart.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 2.2k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 suffering a bit of a writers block but i am on a roll lately. it’s like ive got all these unfinished drafts and i can’t seem to finish them ugh. im going through my request, slowly but surely!

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Come on,” Spencer urged, wrapping a tight arm around you as you clung to his shoulder as if your life depended on it. God, your head was pounding and your own body felt like dead weight as you continued carrying yourself around.

You stumbled on your feet, too intoxicated to walk straight. The sharp stiletto heel that accompanied your dress was not working in your favor either, and they were frankly becoming quite painful.

“I need to sit down,” You slurred in a hushed yet collected manner.

“One second angel,” He whispered, reminding himself not to disrupt his neighbors.

It wasn’t your fault that Rossi's parties always consisted in a very sweet, very endless supply of the most exquisite cocktails you’d ever tasted. It’s not everyday you got to taste such bougie liquor and given your big sweet tooth, and Garcia’s pesky persistence to get you to follow along her alcohol tasting spree, all those free drinks were dangerous at your disposal.

Penelope had passed over this tart but perfectly sweetened strawberry drink she had encountered and you made the grave mistake of trying it. Just when the flavors melted in your mouth, you immediately made your way to the bar in search of your own, downing that one and three more in less than fifteen minutes.

In hindsight, that was a horrible decision. Spencer knew that if he had been glued to your hip, just like he usually was at these or any social event for that matter, he’d never let you drink as much and as fast as you did. He had nagged about something with rapid absorption and rapid increase in BAC— you were too drunk to remember any of the information he was dumping your way if you were being honest.

You began slowing down once the nausea and severe dizziness settled in. Usually, you knew your limits with alcohol. You knew how much got you drunk enough to loosen up, and you knew how much was too much, thanks to a few situations where you had to learn the hard way. However, something about the sweetness and the inability to taste any alcohol whatsoever threw you off your radar.

And here you are, dragging yourself against Spencer’s body and back into his apartment, too drunk to even walk and feeling like you were about to literally throw up any and every thing in your system.

Spencer pushed the door open, managing to balance you in his other arm as he unlocked the door swiftly. He walked in with you by his side, throwing the keys into the small metal dish by the door and now using both hands to keep you steady.

You remained quiet, trying desperately to focus on keeping the nausea down and not throwing up. “Spence,”

“What's wrong?” He asked, looking down at you as you dug your forehead into his chest, grappling at his shirt with a rough tug.

“I feel really sick,” The world around you was spinning and that pit in your stomach was getting harder to push down. He matted down the top of your tousled hair, tucking a few stray strands behind your ears.

“Do you need to throw up?” He asked, voice soft and comforting.

“I think so,” The nausea seemed to hit like a tidal wave, and all you needed was to lie down. You needed to lie down. Just the mention of puking was enough to get you to gag. Immediately freaked out and panicked, you gave a persistent nod, already pushing yourself off of him and making a very crooked B-line for the bathroom, knowing you were going to throw up.

Once past the bathroom door, you fell to your knees opening the lid of the toilet and hurling the contents of your stomach into it. You gagged, retching loudly while tears pricked the corners of your eyes and everything around you hurt.

Spencer followed closely behind, crouching beside you and pulling up your hair into a messy makeshift ponytail while his other came to rub comforting circles on your back, sitting through your discomfort by your side.

It was ironic really. Spencer had always been extremely opposed to anything germ related and this seemed to be his worst nightmare. If anyone knew about this, they’d probably not be able to believe how Spencer didn’t run in the opposite direction and quite literally ran right towards you and your germ related issues. Since he started dating you, he let certain things slide. He shared more of his personal space and didn’t mind if that included sharing things he wouldn’t tend to share around others.

He never thought twice about it if it brought you comfort. It came to him naturally, putting you and your comfort and happiness first.

You spit out the remaining acidic taste of bile into the toilet and groaned heavily. Your nostrils burned and so did the back of your throat, but all of the nausea was immediately alleviated from your system.

“Mhm, sexy,” You said, reaching over for a piece of toilet paper and wiping down your mouth. Spencer huffed a laugh through his nose, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. “This is embarrassing.”

“This?” He said, voice jumping into one of fake shock. You threw a glare over your shoulder and his face immediately melted into a sweet smile, rubbing your back with just a bit more clarity. “I’ve seen you in worse predicaments,”

“How do you feel?” You turned, resting your back against the toilet after flushing the contents away and turning towards him.

“I feel better,” You mumbled, screwing your eyes shut and attempting to blink away the tears and the burning sensation of your nose.. “But I probably look very disgusting.”

He tilted his head with a shrug, wholeheartedly answering. “You don’t look disgusting,”

“Liar,” You said with narrowed eyes, smiling playfully.

He shook his head with one of his signature smiles, those that tugged slightly to the right and crinkled the corner of his eyes just perfectly. He reached up, grabbing the empty glass cup that sat on the side of his sink, and was now filled with water. He handed you the glass which you took without complaint. “Drink,”

You drank down the whole glass, wanting to get the disgusting aftertaste out of your mouth. “Better?”

“Much,” You nodded, smiling up at him, feeling instantly better but still dizzy. “I feel like, rejuvenated or something,”

You reached back to push yourself up off the ground, only for Spencer to set a firm hand on your shoulder keeping you still.

“Give yourself a minute,” He told you. “You feel better after vomiting following excessive alcohol consumption mainly due to the removal of alcohol and its irritating effects on the stomach, but you need a few seconds.”

You hummed, picking at a rhinestone on your dress. “Does that mean I should expel all my stomach's contents everytime I overdrink to feel better?”

“No,” He narrowed his eyes at you. “You shouldn’t even drink enough to get to the point of having to throw up in the first place, love,”

“But those strawberry drinks were so good Spence,” You threw your head back with a pout.

“Yeah, yeah,” He dismissed with a playful tone. He hooked his fingers around your elbows. “Up,”

You steadied yourself with a tight grip on his shoulders and winced at the bright white light of the bathroom. He pushed you back, knocking the back of your knees into the toilet and forcing you to sit down on it with a soft thud. He crouched down and reached over to knead at the straps of your heel and promptly remove them.

He set them to the side and wordlessly moved into his room, grabbing one of his spare t-shirts and making his way back into the bathroom, where you watched him with weary eyes and a very sleepy but adoring smile.

Everything felt fuzzy but just seeing him work his way around you with such ease made your heart beat insanely.

“It’s not fair that you’re so pretty,” You voiced. Spencer opened his mouth to answer but could only mustered a stammered chuckle, blushing profusely but trying to resist laughing at the slurring in your voice.

“I’m pretty?” He asked. You nodded.

“Very,” He reached his hands out, grabbing yours and pulling you up.

“Is it okay if I take your dress off?” He asked, turning you around so your back was facing him. His fingers skimmed across your already exposed shoulders and back and everything felt so heightened that you shuddered at the ghost of his touch.

“Thought you’d never ask,” You said, shooting him a suggestive smile over your shoulder. He said your name with a warning, not faltering in the slightest.

“I’m kidding!” For the most part at least.

“Well, given since you can’t sleep in this dress,” His calloused fingers traced your shoulders in a soothing rhythm. “I brought you one of my shirts but I need to take off your dress in order to put it on,”

Your body seemed to feel magnetized to the floor, pulling your every movement down with a huge weight. Which was probably the alcohol having its effect on you. You felt stupefied but all you could think of was just how tired you were.

“That’s fine Spence,” You murmured, allowing his fingers to skim down your shoulders and towards the dress's zipper. Your eyes fluttered shut, trying to rest them while his hands moved around your back.

He pulled it down, all so gently and smoothly that you were growing even dizzier than you were with more than three cocktails in you.

“I love this dress,” You stated, watching as the sleeves loosened from your shoulders and began sliding down. The cold air hit your bare skin and you merely shivered as it fell and rested on the plush flesh of your hips.

“So do I,” He smiled, slipping his own shirt over your head. You huffed as he pushed the dress down your hips, allowing his shirt to fall over your upper body and cover you as best as it could while picking up the pool of fabric from the floor and laying it out against the toilet. “You looked very beautiful.”

You really did. The way that specific black sequined dress hugged your figure in every single angle and crease possible, flaunting off your body shape perfectly, made Spencer weak at his knees. He didn’t know how he didn’t drop everything the second he saw you to pull you elsewhere private and kiss you until neither of you could breathe.

“Looked? As in past tense?” You turned, facing him with a fake betrayal plastered across your features. “That’s rude,”

“You are insufferable,” He reached back, grabbing your spare toothbrush and putting a nice amount of toothpaste on it. “Now let me brush your teeth so I can kiss you,”

You surrendered your never ending teasing with a sigh, grabbing the hem of his shirt as he held your chin tenderly, brushing your teeth. Throughout the whole three minutes, you couldn’t hold back from allowing yourself to re-learn every single scratch and line on Spencer’s face, engraving its every detail and beauty into a small space in your brain.

Once he was finished and you had rinsed your mouth out with water, you were eternally grateful that the acidic taste in your mouth and lips had been replaced with a fresh minty one. “There,”

You hummed, pulling Spencer in by the said hem of his t-shirt and tilting your chin up towards him, smiling at him like an idiot. “Hi,”

“Hey,” His hands reached up, cradling your face tenderly in his palms, pouring any and every ounce of love he had in him onto you with a firm kiss.

“My legs are killing me,” You said, nuzzling your nose into his cheek and hugging his torso. He rubbed your back with a kiss on the top of your forehead. “I want to lay down,”

“I know but I need to get your makeup off, angel,” He murmured.

You groaned, needing to just get to bed or else you’d literally collapse “You specifically know that if you leave it on overnight, the buildup of makeup, along with dirt, oil, and pollutants that you collect on your skin throughout the day accumulates on its surface and can cause skin issues and breakouts.”

You narrowed a glare. “Yeah, yeah, I guess you’re right,”

“I always am,” He smiled proudly.

“Okay now you’re just pushing it,” He reached back, grabbing a makeup removing wipe from its respective package and dragging it very smoothly across your cheeks, lips, eyes and forehead— any part of your face he could get at. You shivered at the chilliness it gave your flared up cheeks.

Spencer was so gentle with you it made your heart swell in size at just how much attention and care he put into everything he did for you. If you weren’t as tired—and as out of it— as you were right now, you really would pull him down and kiss him anywhere (and everywhere) until your heart stopped beating as much as it was. Although realistically speaking the kissing would probably cause your palpitations to worsen.

He managed to get as much mascara off as he could but the waterproof substance stuck to the bottom of your eyes with a fierce grip. He tossed the wipe into the trashcan and quickly swiped his thumbs across the bottom of your eyes with a very docile brush.

“How do I look?” You said, narrowing your eyes with humor, knowing you probably looked absolutely disheveled. Spencer cocked a brow at you, reaching back and undoing the tie that held your hair into the gorgeous updo thing you had going on.

“Absolutely breathtaking,” He still said, pressing a chaste kiss to the bridge of your nose. His hands continued working at your hair, to which you let your eyes flicker close, resisting the uncontrollable urge to moan out loud as the pads of his fingers rubbed your irritated scalp soothingly.

���I’m sorry,” Your voice came out way more breathier than intended.

“What for?” He asked, letting his hands rest on the side of your neck.

“This,” It wasn’t exactly flattering— the state he had seen you in. And for some reason you felt embarrassed at the thought of him seeing you so exposed and in some shape or form. “I don’t know I feel like I made a fool of myself,”

He furrowed his brows. “I don’t know— I feel guilty that you have to take care of me.”

“But I love taking care of you,” He murmured, instilling such a delicate tone with you that it was impossible to feel uncertain about anything. “Don’t say sorry,”

He kissed you, perfectly, just like he always did. “If you say so,”

It was true. Spencer loved, absolutely treasured, moments where he could take care of you in his own special way. Be gentle and remind you just how much he absolutely loved you.

“Am I done now?” You huffed, slumping forward as all the bones in your body begged to sleep.

“Mhm,” He pulled back, scanning you entirely. “Good to go.”

[sammylkcho]

Mayhaps Sebastian saving us from something just outside his shop? Pretty pls?

Here you go! Sorry for the delay, and I hope you like the result, dear anon.

Warnings/Notes: slight descriptions of wounds, some blood mentioned but nothing major, unedited

"I'll go grab some blankets and cushions then, I won't take too long!" You informed Sebastian, gripping the canvas bag hanging from your shoulder. You planned on stuffing everything you could find inside it so you wouldn't have to carry things in your hands or deal with any extra worries when you returned.

Sebastian responded with a soft hum, his eyes still fixed on some classified documents. He had been busy reviewing, flipping through, and sorting various papers. Maybe he’d made some progress, or maybe not—you didn't really know since he wasn't telling you. So stubborn.

"Be careful out there. The anglers are a bit more aggressive lately. Some expendables managed to evade them, and it seems to have pissed them off. Big surprise…" He muttered the last part with a tone full of sarcasm, like the anglers were acting like spoiled kids who didn't get the toy they wanted. Hearing that gave you a slight shock and sent a chill down your spine, but you hid it with a soft hum.

Showing fear or the slightest tremor in this place could get you killed.

Every day outside the four walls of Sebastian's shop was a vals with death, never knowing what danger could be lurking around the corner. The only threat you'd managed to neutralize, thanks to Sebastian, was Painter's turrets. After Sebastian talked to him and explained the situation, the AI had mocked you but grudgingly agreed not to try and kill you anymore. Right before you were about to leave, however, the AI had apologized, explaining the reasons Sebastian had already mentioned.

You parted on good terms. You considered him a friend, though to him, you were just an acquaintance… It was progress.

"Well, don't miss me too much!" You waved goodbye, ducking to exit through the vent.

Once you crawled out, you looked both ways, like you were crossing the street, making sure no cars—or rather, no Pinkie or Pandemoniun—were coming your way.

Hearing nothing, you stood up and headed a few rooms over, careful not to stray too far.

When you came back, you had a blanket and three cushions you'd grabbed from one of the couches in one of the rooms.

You had to hide a few times, crouching into corners when you couldn't find a locker to duck into, praying to any god that you were in an angler's blind spot.

Now, you were on your way back to Sebastian's shop, looking forward to some warmth and safety in that little secure place. All you wanted was to curl up in the things you'd gathered, your body and mind exhausted.

Just as you were about to duck into the vent again, a sudden, sharp yank and the piercing bite that followed knocked the wind out of you, the attack violent and unexpected.

A high-pitched scream escaped your throat as the sensation of thousands of needles tearing into your skin like you were nothing more than food shredded through you. You could feel your blood spilling, staining both your wetsuit and neck crimson. The pain was unbearable, and the awkward angle your neck was pulled into made it hurt even more.

Your strength was fading, and your vision was speckled with black dots that refused to disappear no matter how much you blinked. The agony consumed you, and the urge to close your eyes wasn't helping.

You heard a faint noise coming from the walls (or above?), like something sliding quickly, but you couldn’t focus on it through the wave of pain as the wall dweller yanked and bit into your flesh.

The sound of one gunshot, then another, sent chills down your spine.

The wall dweller dropped to the ground, and its grip on you vanished, causing you to collapse from the loss of strength.

You braced for the cold, hard floor, but instead, two pairs of arms—plus one extra—caught you firmly, preventing you from injuring yourself further.

You glanced up and recognized Sebastian's clothes. You tried to smile to show your gratitude, but all you could manage was a weak grimace.

"You're lucky I've got a extra medkit. I won't charge you for it this time. Just be more careful next time, idiot." You could hear a slight hint of concern in his voice, along with that familiar frown he always made when you were possibly to blame for something.

He cradled you in his arms, and you didn't protest. You didn't feel like moving and could feel yourself about to pass out any second from the blood loss you were dealing with right now.

You closed your eyes for a moment, and when you opened them again, you were already inside the shop. How? You didn't know, and you didn't feel like overthinking it right now. Instead, you noticed how Sebastian's movements with his third arm were a mix of hurried and precise, like he didn't want to make a mistake with what he was doing.

You hissed as he began cleaning the open wound, wrapping a gauze around your shoulder and applying pressure to stop more blood from spilling.

You didn't pay attention to what he did next because of the discomfort and the awful itch spreading through the wound. It hurt, itched—you didn't even want to move your injured shoulder in case it opened up again or got worse.

Even after Sebastian finished, he didn't let go or lower you from his arms. He just stayed there with you, for who knows how long. Just you and him.

And you'd thank him later, verbally, for everything he’d done to help.

[lazycats-stuff]

I'd like to request batfam x male reader, who crotchets a lot. He has some medical issues, so he doesn't go on patrol, he helps out with information gathering though.

When Damian got added to the strays, the reader tried being a good older brother, and he crochets him a little stuffed animal for him as a welcome gift. Everyone in the family has one, even Alfred. Let's say, Damian had a bad day, and coincidentally the reader just finished the crochet animal and goes to his room to give it to Damian. Damian snaps and destroys the stuffed animal in front of the reader, also saying some pretty hurtful stuff. The reader cries because it took a lot of time to male it. You can end it however you want

Take your time <3

Sure. Oh Damian is so dead. Nobody messes with (Y/N).

Summary: Damian messes with the wrong brother.

Warnings: angst, fluff, reader is a sweetheart, everyone loves the reader, unspecified medical problems...

(Y/N) sometimes envied his brothers. If it weren't for his medical problems, he would have been out and running, fighting crimes. But he was still happy with his position as Oracle number two, helping Alfred out when it came to patrol and information gathering.

" Can I get you some more tea, master (Y/N)? " Alfred asked him, standing up.

" Please do. " (Y/N) said, giving Alfred his favorite mug.

(Y/N) turned his head back to the computer, rubbing his eyes. He yawned, putting his hand over his mouth.

" Tired? " Alfred asked as he poured some tea.

" A little bit. " (Y/N) answered.

" Guys, we need access to GCPD data base. " Bruce said through the comms.

" You have an access to it, why do we have to? " (Y/N) asked, confused. Alfred came back with tea, also confused.

" Something is jamming the access. " Bruce explained further. (Y/N) put the tea aside, trying to get into the said database.

" Hmm. Something is happening with the network. It's down... " (Y/N) said, confused.

" I would go to GCPD and check it out. " (Y/N) said, taking his tea.

" Alright, will do. "

With that, it was quiet and they knew that this was in one way or another it for the night. (Y/N) glanced at the crocheted bat he made for Bruce.

(Y/N) had a little bit of tradition for everybody. He makes little stuffed animals. Every single member has one, even Alfred. He would make it for everyone who would come into the family, just to feel welcome.

And it did work. It made all of them feel nice and welcoming. And it made them like (Y/N) and it made everyone more protective of (Y/N). Jason took the number one spot at the amount of protectiveness he had for (Y/N).

Everything changed when Bruce announced he had a biological son. With Talia al Ghul. (Y/N) didn't know what to think about it. Bruce was always saying to use protection, so how did it happen? As a playboy, you are supposed to be a careful person when it comes to sex.

" I'm sorry, how did Damian happen? You are usually the one telling us to watch ourselves, you know, use protection amongst other things. " (Y/N) asked, taking a sip of his tea.

" Talia spiked my drink. " Bruce said, making Jason snort. (Y/N) smacked him on the arm.

" I'm sorry, but how didn't you notice it? " Jason questioned, trying not to lose control again.

" Jason not now. Damian is in the cave, Alfred is going to bring him up. Please be nice. " Bruce said, sighing as he heard Alfred coming.

Everyone turned their heads to see Alfred walking in with a small boy with green eyes and who eerily looked like Bruce at that age. (Y/N) knew because he saw the pictures once. Alfred showed him the photos.

" Everyone, this is master Damian. Master Damian these are master Jason, master (Y/N), master Tim and master Dick. " Alfred introduced Damian to everyone.

Damian didn't say anything, instead he turned back to Alfred to ask him to show him his room.

" I don't know about you, but this is going to be interesting. " Jason said to (Y/N).

" I think he just needs to adjust. It's never easy to come somewhere new. " (Y/N) replied, taking another sip of his tea.

" Will he get a stuffed animal too? " Jason asked, standing up.

" Yup. It's a tradition here so... " (Y/N) said, trailing off.

" If you say so. " Jason said, watching as (Y/N) took last sips of his tea before putting the mug into the sink.

" Any chance I can ask you to help me with a case? " Jason tried as they were going to their rooms.

" Nope. I need my sleep. " (Y/N) said, opening his bedroom door.

" You are mean. " Jason said, chuckling. " Good night. "

" Good night Jay. "

It has been a couple of weeks and (Y/N) finally finished up his stuffed animal for Damian. He made a Robin stuffed animal in his colors. Well, the suits color. Green and red with a R to symbolize the Robin. He was happy with his creation and was now actively looking for Damian.

What (Y/N) didn't know however, was the fact that Damian had a very bad day. To put it bluntly, everything went to shit. Absolutely everything that Damian had planned went to shit. Absolutely everything and there was nothing he could have done to prevent it.

Coincidently, (Y/N) decided to gift the stuffed animal to Damian. He knocked on Damian's door, entering after hearing a harsh what. (Y/N) entered the room, holding his bird in his hands.

" So, we have a tradition here where I make newcomers stuffed animals. So here is yours. "

" I don't need that right now! And I don't need something from someone so worthless to the family! " He yelled grabbing the stuffed bird, ripping it apart.

(Y/N) was heartbroken. He slowly stepped out, closing the door before he started crying in the hall.

" (Y/N), what's wrong?! " Jason asked, confused. He just came from the dining room and seeing his favorite brother sad was something that should be illegal. (Y/N) shook his head, running to his room and slamming the door shut.

Jason scowled, wondering what made (Y/N) upset. Well, who made him upset... He looked at Damian's door and went there. He opened the door and his eyes feel down onto the remains of (Y/N)'s stuffed animal. He looked up at Damian before he jumped at him.

The two started fighting. Jason was blinded with anger and rage, punching wherever he could. Bruce heard the commotion and when he saw what was happening, he had to tear Jason off of Damian.

It was difficult to separate them, but once he did, he was pissed. Beyond angry.

" WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING?! " Bruce yelled, mad now.

" He took (Y/N)'s animal and tore it apart! He is heartbroken! You didn't saw him when he started crying! " Jason yelled back, face bloody. The kid can definitely punch.

" Out. I will talk to Damian. " Bruce said calmly. Jason wiped his nose, going straight to the bathroom in his room to clean it up.

He can't allow his brother to see him bloody. He really can't. He washed his face and once he made sure that he has stopped the bleeding, he went to (Y/N)'s room. He opened the door and his heart broke.

(Y/N) was still crying on the bed, curled into a fetal position.

" Oh (Y/N)... Come here. " Jason said softly. (Y/N) sniffed and turned to face Jason. Jason sat down on the edge. (Y/N) moved closer and put his head in Jason's lap.

" Why did he do that? I just tried to be nice... " (Y/N) asked and Jason gently scratched (Y/N)'s scalp.

" I know that. Damian is just Damian... " Jason said, knowing that (Y/N) doesn't like when they are talking negatively about Damian. Or any of them.

Jason stayed like that for a couple of hours and (Y/N) fell asleep during that. Jason didn't mind, but he had to move. He gently put (Y/N)'s head on a pillow. He covered him and left the room.

He didn't expect to see Damian in the hall.

" What do you want? " Jason asked quietly, not to disturb (Y/N).

" I wanted to... Apologize. "

" Did Bruce make you do that? " Jason said, not believing a single word that came out of Damian's mouth.

" No. I just had a bad day and I let it out on the wrong person. " Damian said, meaning every word of it.

" Well, don't wake him up now. You know, everyone has a stuffed animal made by (Y/N). Even Alfred. " Jason said. " Bruce has one near the Batcomputer and sometimes takes it with him somewhere important. He took it to outer space once. " Jason wasn't sure why he was telling that to Damian, but it felt important that he knows. " Again, don't wake him up. " Jason said, leaving Damian.

Damian had no plans on doing it.

[thegnomelord]

With all these M!reader courting (and practically rizzing up everyone) in their own hybrid way, imagine poor Ghost, he's like toothless, doesn't know how tf to court someone of say, even his own species because he was once human

And with that rant about all the absurd ways of courting, what would he call as his own?

Would he give gifts like Gaz and Price? A piece to remember them by?

I doubt he'd be the physical type like cuddly ol soap who loves to scent,

He's practically a shadow (literally and figuratively) and I feel like the best he can do is stare and slowly blink like a cat (and let's be honest most of the time we don't see his eye) so he might even just act like a stalker and watch from afar, not much of a scent even on him if he's near, even when in the midst of battle

So what can he do then? I feel like going to Price is his best bet and when he tries to scent something like Soap it smells like nothing

I feel like he'd beat himself up on it

(Also fucking love your courting works, I've been eating that shit up its become a hyperfixation)

- ☕️ Anon

I reckon that staring would be less of a wraith thing and more of a Simon thing. Because like, wraiths don't reproduce, they're made not born. So poor Simon just has to try to use the knowledge he had before he died.

CW:NSFW subbot ghost, topdom reader, rough and quick

He likes you.

Just like he's a Riley, just like the sky is blue, his affection for you is one of the few truths of the world he doesn't question. Only problem — he doesn't know how to tell you. You're not human and neither is he, not anymore, but he's woefully unprepared when it comes to you, doesn't know if he's supposed to go about it as a wraith or as a man.

He tries; Simon's phone is full of open tabs containing every piece of information about your species, trying to find grains of truth in the contradicting mess of words. He's memorized how you like your morning coffee down to the last flake of sugar, watching your face carefully when you trudge to the communal kitchen to find your mug steaming and everything laid out near it. He knows your schedule inside out, always a few minutes earlier in the gym when you come in, offering to spot you, his dark eyes roaming over your sweat covered skin. His gaze is always flickering to you, regardless of what you're doing or where you are — watching, guarding, making sure the world doesn't take away that spark like it did with Simon Riley.

But you fail to notice it, him. Or maybe you do but don't care. Don't see him as anything but your teammate, like you should, like he should. God, what is he even doing trying to fucking woo you like some lovestruck Victorian gent. . .

Simon feels like banging his head against the wall.

Maybe then something in his imperceptibly rotten skull will come loose, tumble around in what's left of his brain like a snowball rolling down a hill to form an avalanche, or at least a vestige of a good thought; an idea, something he could use to get out of this rut.

He doesn't go to Price for advice. The old dragon finds him, knows him long enough to figure out when Simon's up to his throat in shite. Price sits down next to him as they watch you and Gaz spar, "Alright, spit it out." Price hums as he lights his cigar.

Simon's lips form a thin line beneath his mask, his fingers gripping the meat of his arm to keep his form stable. His eyes don't stray from you, cataloging every trail of sweat as it rolls down your skin, watching your muscles flex beneath your skin as you throw a punch, making a mental note to show you the mistakes you make in private and—

His shoulders fall, "'m fucked." The words escape him like he'd been punched in the gut.

Price gives him the side eye, looking him up and down. "Doesn't look like you enjoyed it."

"Hah." Simon says in a dry tone. "Always a comedian captain."

Price chuckles, wing spreading out to bump against his shoulder. "Jokes aside," he lets out a small puff of smoke, "You could just tell 'im."

Simon's eyes narrow, "What, not going to suggest I go find some obscure shite ta gift him?" If he could find some concrete information about your species courting habits he would have done so by now, would have happily torn up Heaven and Hell looking for whatever would make you look at him the same way Price looks at Kyle.

"No," Price rolls his eyes, standing up and stretching. "Just go talk to 'im you bloody muppet, going to creep him out if you keep staring like that." He nods his head towards you.

Simon's head is a dark sea of thoughts as he spars with you, tries to make it seem like nothing's wrong but you catch on quick; he's distracted, falling for moves he'd once chastised you for pulling, the edges of his form crackling like the static of a tv, shadowy smoke rising from his blackened arms as he throws a punch that goes wide.

He grunts as you knock him to the ground, your hands on his shoulders to pin him down. "You alright?" You ask, your brows furrowed. "You're not fighting like you usually do."

You can barely see his dark eyes narrow, his body still beneath yours. "I'm fine." He growls out, tries to ignore how the warmth of your body against his makes him feel, nibbling on his nerves like a craving for a drug he can't have.

"Uhuh," You hum, a little confused why he's letting you pin him down so long. "Come on Ghost, you're not getting soft on me are you?" With a huff you attempt to pull away, knowing you couldn't force words out of his mouth.

The sudden lack of your warmth is what forces his body to move before his mind does, shadows shooting out to grab you before congealing back into his arm, pulling you down so his lips can crash on yours.

You grunt into his mouth from the surprise, your eyes wide with surprise. Simon's frozen heart cracks just a bit when you don't respond, only to melt when you finally kiss him back. Your lips feel like heaven against his, Simon's eyes shutting and long tongue slipping into your mouth.

You choke a bit, pulling back to catch your breath, your eyes widening as Simon's long tongue slips back into his mouth. "Fucking hell Simon." You pant,

"Got a whole bag of tricks." Simon says, his throat dry. "I-" He begins to say, thoughts running on how to tell you he wants you but no words coming out, something clogging his throat like molasses.

"Yeah," You grin, the lights overhead casting a halo around your head. "I know." Tipping your head down you catch his lips again, your kiss deep and rough, Simon's teeth digging into your lip until it bleeds, your sharp fangs nipping his tongue, blood mixing in your mouths, arousal starting to course through your veins.

Simon's hands grope your ass, pulling your crotch down on his so your cocks can rub together. Simon greedily swallows your groan, his arms starting to fizzle, shadowy smoke wrapping around you to keep you close as his hand sneaks down to undo your belts, fishing out your cocks.

"Christ," You groan and pant into his mouth, grabbing hold of both of your cocks and rocking your hips into his, pleasure buzzing up your spine.

"Don't bring 'im in here." Simon growls and throws an arm around your neck, demanding your attention with a kiss, longue tongue pushing half way down your throat and hips bucking up to rub his cock against yours. "Just us here."

You moan against his lips and fuck, if that isn't the prettiest sound he's ever heard, his mind clouding over with pleasure and before either one of you knows it Simon's cumming, pulling you down with him, your combined cum painting both of your stomachs.

It takes a few moments for Simon to catch his breath, his pupils blows wide as he stares up at you. "Shite." He breathes out, boneless beneath you.

You grin, "You can say that again." and you lean down to kiss him again.

[joelscruff]

for what it's worth (joel miller x reader) 18+

part 3 of the soft!dom joel collection has arrived! this one tackles some backstory; it's time to see how they met and how exactly their little "arrangement" came to be. i hope you guys like it, your feedback means the world to me. i also have a kofi if you'd like to give me a tip (but of course this is completely optional). previous parts: you know i don't mean it & don't think we could help it summary: your relationship with joel has always been complicated, but it's about to change drastically, for better or for worse. rating: 18+ explicit (mdni) warnings: fem!reader, smut, age gap (reader is mid 20s, joel is mid 50s), mutual masturbation, praise kink, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics (joel is dominant but not degrading or aggressive), mentions of porn (specifically magazines) word count: 10k (it's a doozy) | ao3 spoilers: this contains vague spoilers for part two of the video game (and most likely for season two of the show). nothing too major but i figured i should warn for it anyway.

To say that your first day in Jackson is alienating would be an understatement.

You feel like everyone is staring at you (they are) and no one will let you out of their sight (they won't). You understand immediately that there's a lack of trust which will need to be formed as soon as possible, otherwise you'll never be able to create a home here.

"They're wary of you," Maria explains in your brand new living room - you still can't believe you just went from having barely any possessions to having your own house - and gives you a weak smile, "It'll pass, they just need to make sure you don't have any ulterior motives."

You get it, but it still hurts. Especially that night when you join your new community for dinner and find yourself sitting alone in the corner of the room, poking at your food and trying not to let your emotions betray you. You're determined not to show weakness, even though you've never felt more isolated. You can feel their eyes on you constantly, like they're waiting for you to pull out a rifle and start picking them off like a shooting gallery.

There's only one person who seems to be consistently minding his own business, a middle aged man who sits in the opposite corner of the room. He's hulking and broad, kind of intimidating, but there's a softness to his jaw and the grey scruff covering it that makes you see something else, something kind. He takes large bites and seems lost in his own thoughts, eyes fixed on the wall to his left but unfocused, like he's looking through it. He's by himself too, mirroring you, but you can tell by the way people move around him that he's been here for a long time. He must just enjoy his solitude.

"That's Joel," Maria tells you, sitting next to you and following your gaze, "He's my husband's brother, came down here a few years ago."

"He doesn't stare at me like everyone else does," you say, still looking over at him, "Does he just not care or...?"

To your surprise, she laughs, and everyone who's giving you dirty looks suddenly seems to soften. You're grateful for Maria then for bothering to talk to you, to try and trust you.

"Don't ask me to explain the things Joel does, I wouldn't be able to tell you," you notice that she has a full plate of food with her and that she's decided to sit next to you for dinner, an attempt to alleviate the mistrust for you in the room. You can't help but smile, thankful.

"He's a closed book," she continues, "Even Tommy finds him hard to read and he's his own brother."

She changes the subject then, wanting to know more about you and what you've been through, a not so subtle way of trying to get some information for the council. You humor her; you have nothing to lose.

Your eyes still stray to the man named Joel every so often as you speak, but you're not sure why. After about ten minutes he gets up to leave, and you watch him place his empty bowl in the dishwashing area and give the woman working there a small smile. She smiles back, says something to him. He laughs, and you can almost hear it over the bustle of the dining area. You watch as he says something else to her in parting, gives her one more smile, and turns and walks out the door. He doesn't look at you, not even once.

-

Over the next few weeks, things get better. Less people are looking at you and more people are actually trying to talk to you, get to know you. You have some nice conversations and answer questions about yourself - mostly appropriate, save for the one teenager who kept asking how you got the different scars along your bicep, the long one on your neck, the one on your cheek, stories you really didn't want to recount. After hounding you for a few minutes, her friend had pulled her away with an apology, "She likes scars," she'd said sheepishly, tugging the girl's arm, "Come on, Ellie, leave her alone."

You meet everybody, shake hands and even hug a few people. You start getting invited to things, asked to suggest films for movie night, help set up some games for the kids, Tommy even asks you one evening to help him herd a few sheep that had gotten loose. They trust you, and it feels good.

You still see that man, Joel, every night in the dining hall. But that's the only place you see him. You're not sure where he goes during the day or after dinner; he must just be a bit of a recluse, which you can't blame him for. The people here are nice but a lot are overbearing and a bit too friendly sometimes, plus it's hard to find time for yourself when everyone has tasks to complete and always likes to help each other out. You begin to wonder if he'll ever notice you, which leads you to wonder why it even matters to you that he does.

-

Your patrols start around the three month mark. Tommy takes you out with a small group beyond the borders of the community and shows you the ropes, points out where most of the patrol spots are with a pair of binoculars and goes over the routine. Your first assignment is simple: manning the watchtower with Maria. You spend most of the patrol getting to know her, hearing about her past and telling her more about yours. You like her a lot, she's easy to talk to and has a strong spirit akin to your own. The conversation gets pretty personal around the seventh hour, and you end up telling her how exactly you got the scar along your cheekbone. She listens deeply, thoughtfully, nodding along as you detail the more difficult things you've had to deal with in the past, the things that have made you stronger.

"You're tough," she says near the end of your shift, nudging your shoulder, "You don't really belong on watchtower, do you?"

You shrug, "I mean, if there's somewhere else I'd be more useful..."

"How'd you like to head out to the ski lodge with Joel next week?"

Your ears prick up at the name and you nod quickly, unsure exactly why, "Yeah, that'd be great!"

"He knows the area well," she adds, then grimaces, "I have to warn you though, he might not talk very much. He keeps to himself, I'm sure you've noticed."

You wonder why she's so quick to put you on patrol with someone who might not even speak to you, but it starts to make sense as you're walking back from the watchtower in the early hours of the morning. Tommy exits the dining hall and walks over to the both of you with a smile, pressing a tender kiss to Maria's cheek.

"How's my girl?" he asks flirtatiously, and she bats him away playfully.

"Was just telling the new recruit that she's gonna go on patrol with Joel next week," she replies, and Tommy stops in his tracks, raising an eyebrow.

"Her? With Joel?" he appraises you and bites his lip, "I don't know, honey, wouldn't she be better off with someone who'll actually talk to her? I thought she was on watchtower with you."

"Tommy, I never see you anymore," she gives him an exasperated look, "The weekends used to be for us and ever since the Kingstons left-"

"I know, I know," he looks at you again, twisting his mouth in thought, "I've been, uh, a lot busier than usual lately. We had this family here for a while, big family, they helped out with the patrols. But they decided to go south a few months back, so-"

"So Tommy's been filling in for every shift he can," Maria finishes for him with a sigh, "And I never see the damn idiot anymore."

You smile, "I'm totally fine with taking over for you, really."

Tommy raises an eyebrow, "Seriously? You sure?" Maria slaps his arm lightly and he gives her a look, but then shrugs, "I mean, okay, if you wanna give it a try. It won't be all the time or anything, maybe just every other weekend, but it would actually be a big help."

"It really would," Maria adds, "You have no idea."

"But... you gotta understand, my big brother, he's.... he's complicated," Tommy's expression is serious now as he looks at you, "He's not very talkative these days, not since..." he shakes his head and you don't push it any further, though you do wonder what's changed.

"So you'll do it?" Maria asks, eyes bright.

"Even if he doesn't talk to you?" Tommy adds with a grimace.

You nod, somehow believing it won't actually be that bad.

-

It is that bad.

The first time you're officially introduced to Joel he doesn't even bother to shake your hand, just nodding vaguely to you as you stand there like an idiot with your palm outstretched. Tommy makes a face at him and then looks back to you with a reassuring smile.

"There's not usually much trouble up at the ski lodge," he says kindly, ignoring Joel's ambivalence, "The trek back and forth is arguably the worst part. The lifts were already damaged beyond repair when we got here so it's a bit of a hike, 'bout an hour to get up there and the same back."

You begin to wonder if maybe this really isn't the best idea, eyeing Joel silently as Tommy explains what you should expect. You've seen this man smile, know he's capable of making some kind of small talk, but it's clear that you're not an ideal candidate as he stands there stiffly and lets Tommy do the talking. Tommy had told you earlier that if the patrol didn't go well he wouldn't make you do it again, and you're already thinking this might be your first and last shift with Joel.

Tommy walks with both of you to about the halfway point, still going over the routine as Joel trudges silently ahead of you. He hasn't said a word, not one word. It's honestly starting to piss you off.

"Well, I gotta head back," Tommy says, giving you another smile of reassurance, "I'll talk to you tomorrow, see how it went, see if we might make this more permanent." He seems doubtful but you can't blame him.

A few moments later it's just you and Joel, hiking in complete silence save for the sounds of nature. The cogs in your head frantically turn, trying to land on something you can say to make things less awkward.

"So, when's the last time you saw infected up here?" you settle on, hoping it'll be enough to start some kind of conversation.

"'Bout a month ago," he replies immediately, voice gruff but quiet, "Weren't too many."

He's got an accent like his brother but it's fainter, less obnoxious, like he's spent more time with non-southern people in the later years of his life. Tommy had said they'd grown up in Texas and lived there 'til he was in his late 20s and Joel his mid 30s, then somewhere along the way they'd separated. You don't know much else about him other than that.

"It's the people you mainly worry about though, right?" you ask, quoting something Tommy had said a few weeks back, "Tommy said you've had more run-ins with raiders than infected."

"Tommy's tellin' you too much," he replies with a grunt, "Don't know what he's even thinking sendin' some kid up here."

You feel anger rise in your chest immediately, "I'm not a kid, asshole."

He stops then, turns around and appraises you with his eyebrows furrowed. It's the first time he's actually gotten a good look at you, his gaze catching on your face for a lasting moment before his eyes fall to your gun. You feel slightly vulnerable, intimidated by his heavy stare.

"How old are you?" he asks, genuinely curious.

"Twenty seven."

His brow furrows even more, "Coulda sworn he said you were seventeen."

"Well, I'm not," you reply awkwardly.

"No, you're not," he acknowledges, "I'm sorry," He seems to mean it, giving you the smallest of apologetic nods and then turning around again to keep walking.

"You thought Tommy sent a seventeen year old up here with you? I thought you had to be eighteen to patrol outside the border."

"You do, I just wouldn't put it past Tommy to send a kid up here with me," he grumbles, "Wouldn't be the first time."

"...Why?"

"None of your business."

"Okay, but now I'm just thinking you're some kind of pervert," you say it in a joking manner but he doesn't laugh. Instead, he stops again and spins around, looking at you with what you can only explain as pure rage. You flinch backward, eyes widening.

"Do I look like a fucking pervert to you?" he asks, voice hard and angry.

"I was joking," you say immediately, shaking your head frantically, "It didn't land."

"No, it fucking didn't," he starts walking again at a faster pace, leaving you standing there completely floored.

Yeah, it's bad.

-

"Ellie's not speaking to him," Tommy explains to you the next morning in the dining hall, hands gripping his coffee mug. You've just told him about your patrol with Joel and the horrible impression you've already managed to make. "I really shouldn't be telling you this but with an outburst like that...I need you to understand why he reacted the way he did."

You look at him, bewildered, "Ellie? That teenager who plays guitar down by the stream?" And the one who'd relentlessly bothered you with questions about your scars, but you keep that part to yourself.

"Yeah, she's...well for all intents and purposes, she's Joel's kid. And she stopped talking to him a while ago, maybe six or seven months back now," he takes a sip of coffee, "Don't ask me why 'cause I have no idea. I've asked both of them and neither'll give me any kind of explanation. All I know is they ain't speakin' and he's heartbroken over it."

"Must've been a bad argument," you say, scrunching your nose in thought, "I mean...seven months? That's a long time to not speak to someone, especially your dad."

"Eh, you haven't met Ellie. She's one of the most stubborn people I've ever met. They both are," he shakes his head, "Anyway, you calling him a perv probably pissed him off 'cause Ellie's real special to him, a surrogate daughter. He wouldn't like someone misunderstanding that, seein' somethin' dirty or wrong there."

"I wasn't-"

He puts a hand up, nodding, "I know you weren't, I get it, no worries. It's partly my fault anyway 'cause he's right, I have tried to send a teen or two up with him, thought it'd do him good to mentor somebody again. But he doesn't want it, I know that now. He doesn't want it if it's not Ellie."

"Well, he doesn't seem to like me anyway, no matter how old I am," you sigh, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms, "I mean, he didn't talk to me once after that, not for the whole shift. It was bad. I don't know if it's gonna work, Tommy. I'm sorry."

He nods and gives you a small smile, thumbing the handle of his mug, "It's okay, I didn't think it'd work out anyways." He tries to hide the disappointment in his expression but fails miserably, and you leave the dining hall feeling bad about your failure.

-

A few days later you're back in the dining hall finishing up dinner, chatting with a few of the community members who you've warmed up most to. There's not many, but you are starting to find yourself feeling more and more comfortable around people as the days go on, more like yourself. You're caught up in a story about an infected you'd encountered in a gas station when their gazes suddenly divert from you and instead fix above your head. Confused, you slow your words and turn around.

"Oh, hi," you say, voice a bit breathless when you see Joel standing there, hands in his pockets, "Did you need something?"

"I, uh, wanted to talk to you," he says it softly, kindly, completely the opposite of how he'd talked to you before, "When you're finished, of course."

"Oh, yeah, sure," your words are broken and awkward, "Uh, I'll meet you...?"

"I'll be outside the main doors," he says quickly, "Take your time."

"Okay, I'll be out in a few."

He nods to you and then to your friends, then turns on his heel and walks out through the big double doors at the end of the dining area. You watch him go, bewildered.

"I thought he hated you," one of your friends says, voicing exactly what you're currently thinking.

"Yeah," you reply, furrowing your brow, "So did I."

You finish your story much quicker than intended and shove away from the table, waving goodbye to your friends and bringing your empty dish to the cleaning station. You push past the double doors and scan the outside area for Joel, eyeing the picnic tables where a few people are enjoying their meals in the fresh air.

"Hey," you hear behind you, and you turn to see him leaning against the left side of the building, arms crossed, "Over here."

You walk over, trying to plan out exactly what you're going to say so you don't end up making some stupid joke again that'll push him further away from you. It turns out you don't need to, because he speaks first.

"I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry," he says it seriously, a soft and genuine look in his brown eyes, "I treated you horribly the other day, you didn't deserve that."

You raise an eyebrow, "Did Tommy put you up to this?"

He frowns, "No."

"Are you sure? 'Cause if he did...I mean, I get it. It's nice of him to look out for me like that but you really don't have to apologize. You didn't do anything, I'm the one who said the tactless joke."

"Tommy didn't say anything to me," he seems to mean it, kicking the toe of his boot against the building, "And I know you were joking, I knew it then too but I'd just..." he takes a breath, avoiding eye contact, "I was havin' a bad day. Doesn't excuse my behavior by any means but it...you just..." he finally looks at you again, expression pained, "I wasn't expectin' you to be there. Tommy only told me you were takin' over for him about ten minutes before you showed up. And then I thought you were a kid and-"

You put your hand up, silencing him, "Joel, it's okay. You don't have to explain."

"I didn't even shake your damn hand," he says gruffly, sounding genuinely ashamed.

You extend your hand to him immediately, splaying your fingers out into the cold air, "Here, shake it now." He stares at it, unsure, and you wiggle it a bit in response, "Seriously, it's okay. Let's start over, clean slate."

He slowly reaches up to take it, his much bigger hand enveloping yours completely. His grip is strong and firm and you can feel calluses along his fingers, showing you exactly who taught Ellie how to play that guitar.

"Clean slate," he repeats, and it begins.

-

He's annoying, but you kinda love it.

He's grumpy most of the time, hates when you don't obey his orders, isn't afraid to give you shit, and gets irritated with you very easily. But it goes both ways. You're stubborn and set in your ways, you hate being told what to do, you dish it just as much as you take it, and it doesn't take much to get you riled up. And somehow, as much as you'd both probably hate to admit it, you work well together.

After your little conversation with Joel outside the dining hall, you'd flagged down Tommy and told him you were willing to try again with Joel on another patrol. He'd looked at you like you were crazy but hadn't shot the idea down, telling you that if it's what you really wanted, he'd keep the schedule the same.

You've been up on the mountain with Joel three times now, and while there's certainly been challenges and a few arguments, it's starting to become a routine. He doesn't talk about himself - it's a bit of an unspoken rule that you dare not break - but in return you don't tell him much about you either. Your main conversation points are usually tied to your interests, not your pasts, and you find yourself discussing movies with him, as well as music and books. He's surprisingly well-read for someone in an apocalypse, but you suppose he could say the same thing about you.

-

The fourth trip is what sets things in motion.

"Did you catch the movie last night?" you ask nonchalantly as you hike beside him, almost to the ski lodge. It's early morning, around five, and the sun is just beginning to crest the tree line, "I don't think Maria knew about the sex scene."

He groans, reaching up to rub the space between his eyes - you've noticed that he does this a lot, a quirk you've become rather fond of.

"Yes," he replies, wincing, "I heard her givin' Tommy a piece of her mind afterwards."

"The way she was yelling for him to turn off the projector was so fucking funny," you grin at the memory, still fresh in your mind, "And listen, I get it, sex is taboo, yada yada yada, but it's not like there were any little kids there last night, it was just the teens. And it's not like it was a porno or something, it was one little sex scene."

"Oh, I know, but I think Maria's trying to keep 'em as innocent as possible for as long as she can."

"Good luck with that," you snort, "I think we all lost our innocence a long time ago, for better or for worse."

"For worse," he replies instantly, "Definitely for worse."

"You're probably right," you grimace, "Although, you know what? I've actually never seen a porno."

He raises an eyebrow at you, "Seriously? Never?"

You bristle slightly, suddenly a little self conscious, "Well, it's not like there's an adult video store in this town, is there?" You can remember them existing when you were a kid, before everything happened, but it's not like you'd had any use for them at that time.

"No, you're right," he turns away from you, lost in thought for a moment, "They do still exist though. Pornos, I mean. Just in other forms. There's a stack of magazines up at the ski lodge, actually."

Your eyes go wide, "Wait, really?"

"Yup."

"Could I maybe..." you trail off and stop speaking, realizing that you should definitely not be asking what you're thinking.

"Look at 'em?" he finishes for you, not looking behind him as he keeps walking, "And you call me a pervert."

The conversation ends there, and you don't dare try to continue it.

-

The day is spent keeping watch along the ski lodge balcony, binoculars passed back and forth as you trade shifts and chat here and there about irrelevant things. Your main objective in this patrol spot is to keep watch of the main watchtower's blind spots, keeping an aerial view of the border perimeter in case people - mainly raiders - decide to make themselves known. You'd thought early on in your admittance to Jackson that infected were their main concern, but you've come to learn that's not the case at all. When Joel had said they'd come across infected up here he'd been lying to you; they'd actually come across a group of raiders who'd tried - and failed - to murder Joel and Tommy during their watch. Not the most reassuring thing to hear now that you've taken over, but you needed to know.

"It's why we got the trip wires down near the entrance now," Joel had explained to you during your second patrol with him, "We won't get snuck up on again," he'd made a face, "Not unless someone decides to disobey my orders."

You'd given him a weak smile, remembering how you'd decided not to heed his warning about going outside the ski lodge after light's out and ended up almost getting your leg shot off by a booby trap, "My bad." He'd rolled his eyes and grumbled to himself.

Now that it's your fourth watch you've gotten the hang of things and have learned to enjoy the semi-solitude of being on the mountain with Joel. He's got a battery operated radio and a box of cassette tapes that keep you from being bored out of your mind, plus a few containers of books that he and Tommy had carried up over the course of a few patrols. Now that you really think about it, you don't remember seeing any of the aforementioned porn Joel had spoken of in any of those crates.

It's midday when you decide to glance through them again out of curiosity, handing the binoculars over to Joel and slipping past him as he traipses out onto the balcony. You head for the boxes immediately and start to dig through them, not sure exactly what you're even looking for. Someone naked, you guess.

"They're not in there," Joel calls to you after a few minutes and you stiffen, turning to look at him through the glass where he can very clearly see what you're doing. He's got a shit-eating grin on his face and you feel your skin flush red.

"I don't know what you're even talking about," you call back, walking away from the books and plopping yourself in the chair by the unlit fireplace, which has somehow become your chair via another unspoken rule, "I was looking for a tape."

"Okay, well the 'tape' you're looking for is in the back of the supply closet," he sounds like he's fighting back laughter and your skin burns even more, "Underneath a box of cleaning supplies."

"I'm ignoring you," you yell out, "Get back to work."

You swear you hear a muffled laugh through the glass.

-

When he comes in from his shift he barely looks at you, just pushes past you lightly and heads for the supply closet. You follow behind him, heart pounding a bit harder in your chest the closer you get to the stash. He opens the closet door and you watch as he yanks out the cleaning supplies, then digs a bit deeper and reappears with six or seven magazines in his arms.

"Here," he leans them toward you and you hesitantly reach forward to take them from him, "They're mostly from the 90s."

"And you know this because....?" you raise an eyebrow and you swear his cheeks go pink.

"I'm a man," he shrugs, trying to be nonchalant as he passes you again to head back to the living room.

"Perv," you call after him, but he doesn't turn around this time.

"You got ten minutes."

-

You've never seen so much nudity in your life, which is saying something considering you'd seen your fair share of it back in your QZ when life had been a bit easier. But seeing it on paper, in photographs that have somehow lasted through years of this shitty reality, it's something else entirely. You stare with wide eyes at the onslaught of naked bodies, most of which are posed in extremely graphic sexual positions, and feel your heart continue to pound in your chest.

Without much thought you'd opened the first magazine right there where Joel left you standing outside the supply closet, and you now find yourself sitting in said closet with your flashlight aimed at the pages, breathing heavily and trying to comprehend exactly how you feel about what you're looking at. A lot of it feels kind of fake, especially the looks on the faces of the models, but there's enough sexual energy there that makes you start to feel a bit wet in your underwear, a feeling you haven't experienced for quite some time; not since a few a years ago in the QZ when you'd been in your last relationship.

"I gave you ten minutes," you suddenly hear Joel say from the other room, and you quickly scramble to your feet and frantically shut the magazine, "In case you forgot, it's your turn."

"Fuck," you trip out of the closet and dash to the living room, clutching your brand new collection of media to your chest, "Sorry, I got distracted."

He stands by the balcony door and looks you over quickly, eyes scanning from the magazines to your face and back again, "Enjoy yourself?" his expression is unreadable and it makes you self conscious.

"Oh please," you reply, making a face, "Do not start."

-

"So which was your favorite?" he asks you casually once darkness has fallen and you're both safely settled in the lodge for the night.

"Which what?"

He looks at you from over his book and gives you a look, like he's questioning your sanity. You stare for a moment and then slap your hand over your eyes when you realize.

"Oh for fuck's sake," you groan, "I'm never gonna hear the end of this now, am I?"

He laughs and you look over at him again, laying there on the couch with a smug look on his face. You retaliate by grabbing the pillow behind you and tossing it at him, making him drop the book he's reading.

"Hey!" he reaches down to pick it up again, "I showed them to you, I'm allowed to ask."

"False," you say, flipping your hair, "And for your information, I only managed to look at one of them."

He chuckles to himself and returns to his book, "Okay, okay, I'll leave you alone. I was just kiddin'."

"Joel Miller? Kidding?" you make a faux-shocked face, "I fear we've entered the Twilight Zone."

"Don't even pretend you know what that is," he says it seriously but his smile betrays him, "You didn't know about the Twilight Zone 'til I told you about it last week."

"That's just what I wanted you to think."

He rolls his eyes and keeps reading, letting the silence take over again. You watch his eyes scan the page back and forth, taking in the story - whatever it is - and transporting himself to another world, away from the ski lodge. He does this every patrol once it's too dark to see outside, sets the battery powered lantern to its highest setting and reads until he falls asleep. You wish you had his concentration and focus; instead, you curl up in the red armchair and force your eyes shut until your thoughts quiet down enough to let you sleep. Which is difficult tonight especially, seeing as all you can think about are those damn magazines.

After about five more minutes of silence you take a deep breath, then quietly say, "The one with the blonde girl in the bunny ears."

You don't dare look at him, waiting for his response and focusing instead on the empty fireplace beside you. You hear the crinkling of paper as he dogears the page of his book and then the gentle thud as he places it on the floor.

"That's a good one," he says just as quietly.

Another moment of silence passes, and your skin feels like it's on fire as you whisper, "I like the page where she's like...bent over."

"I can't remember the pages, if I'm being honest," he replies, "I haven't looked at them in a while."

You nod to yourself, "Well, there's this page where the guy has her bent over a table. And he's like...pounding into her from behind." You wait for him to say something else but he doesn't so you continue, "It's one of the only pages where she actually looks like she's enjoying herself."

"Hey, uh, I really was just kiddin'," he says awkwardly, "You don't have to tell me, it's okay."

"Oh," you can't help but sound dejected and embarrassed, your fingers trembling a little bit as you push a loose strand of hair behind your ear, "Sorry."

"I mean, if you want to, you can," he corrects, sounding slightly embarrassed himself, "I know you probably....you probably want to talk about it."

You bite down on your lip and sigh exasperatedly, placing your hands over your face, "Kinda," you mumble against your fingers, "It's all I can think about right now."

"Did it make you uncomfortable?" he asks, voice still gentle, "A lot of people are offended by that kinda stuff, you wouldn't be the first person to find it weird."

"It's definitely weird," you take a shaky breath and drop your hands, "But no, I'm not uncomfortable. It was....I mean, it was hot," you bite your lip, "I haven't even thought about sex for a long time so it made me...uh..."

The silence is deafening and apparently neither of you wants to break it as you sit there without speaking, letting your words hang in the dead air. You suddenly feel like you want to crawl out of your skin for saying anything to begin with, for even asking about the magazines in the first place.

"Wet?" he suddenly says, voice breaking a bit, "It made you wet?"

"Very," you reply, relieved that he's not freaked out and trying to change the subject.

"Well, that's normal," he says, voice stiff.

You can't help but laugh, finally peering over at him and seeing that he's just laying there, staring at the ceiling, "I know it's normal, Joel. It's not my first time being turned on, trust me."

"Well, what am I supposed to say?" he grumbles, looking at you in exasperation, "You can't just say that and expect me to give you a casual response. It made you wet, you got turned on, congratulations."

You stare at him, watching as he reaches for his book again, "Wait," you clamor out of the chair and reach beneath it to grab the magazine you'd looked at earlier. You shuffle over to him, thumbing through the pages until you find the right one, "Here," you open to the correct page and show it to him, "This is the one I'm talking about."

His eyes assess the page, his Adam's apple bobbing heavily in his throat as he takes in what you were referring to. He nods slowly, "Okay yeah, I see what you mean. She's about to come, that's why she looks like that."

Your brow furrows, "You can tell that from a picture?"

He shrugs, eyes still on the magazine, "Well, see, he's rubbin' her clit," he points to it and your face goes hot again, "And he's fuckin' her pretty hard. So yeah, I'd say she's either already comin' or about to." his gaze shifts back to you, noticing that you're staring, and he awkwardly pushes the magazine back toward you, "What?"

"I just..." you swallow, shaking your head apologetically, "Sorry, it just sounded really dirty hearing you say that."

He suddenly looks uncomfortable, shifting on the couch and leaning away from you as he crosses his arms, "Well, you asked."

"I know, I don't mean it in a bad way," you step back and realize you're suddenly throbbing in your jeans, feeling that familiar wetness again, "It just... hearing you say it out loud like that, it makes the picture hotter, somehow."

He looks at you, gaze trailing from your eyes to your lips. You suddenly feel like you've said too much, exposed even though you're fully dressed, and you walk back over to the chair and quickly plop back down in it. You give him another look and see his lips parting like he's going to say something else. Instead he takes a breath and drops his eyes from your face, twisting around on the couch to face the opposite way, "It's late, we should sleep."

"Y-yeah," you breathe, crossing your legs, heart stuttering as your clothed core presses wetly against the denim of your jeans. "You're right."

You curl back up in the chair and try to calm your breath, slow your heart, try not to focus too much on the fact that hearing Joel of all people say the phrases he's rubbin' her clit and fuckin' her pretty hard has made you start falling to pieces. Do you even see Joel that way? Has there ever been a moment where you found yourself thinking about him like that? You want to tell yourself the answer is no, that your body is simply experiencing some pent-up sexual frustration and he has nothing to do with it, but you know you'd be lying to yourself.

He's hot. It's not some shocking revelation or something you've realized over time. There's a reason you'd felt so drawn to him that first day in the dining hall, a reason you'd watched out for him every day and hoped he'd notice you. Hell, there's a reason you're still doing patrols with him despite him being a pain in the ass. You're not an idiot, you know yourself well enough by now to know what these things mean.

You're attracted to him. You've been attracted to him this whole damn time.

You shut your eyes tight and curl up into a ball, holding your knees to your chest. He's rubbin' her clit, his voice echoes in your mind, and your cunt begins to ache.

Stop thinking about it, you shake his words away and try to focus on falling asleep. There's no way you're gonna touch yourself right now, not with him in the room, and you're not gonna excuse yourself either like some horny teenager. You can do this, you can get through it, it'll go away soon.

-

It doesn't go away.

About twenty minutes later you're still sitting there with your eyes shut, trying your hardest not to touch yourself. But it's so fucking difficult. His words are playing on a loop in your head, over and over, soft yet rough, kind yet sexy, his southern drawl making it all the more hotter:

She's about to come, that's why she looks like that.

He's rubbin' her clit.

He's fuckin' her pretty hard.

I'd say she's either already comin' or about to.

You squirm in the chair, imagining what he'd sound like whispering that in your ear with his fingers pumping in and out of you as you came undone beneath him. Rubbin' her clit, his voice breathes in your mind, fuckin' her pretty hard, she's about to come.

You're ten seconds from breaking your own rule and heading back to the supply closet to find some release when you hear an unfamiliar sound coming from a few feet away. Your eyes flutter open, thoughts stopping momentarily as you try to figure out what it is. You turn slightly in your chair to see if Joel hears it too, and you feel your breath stop completely.

He's turned off the lantern so you can't see him properly, but you can make out the shadow of him in the moonlight, see the long shape of him directly mirrored against the floorboards and his hand stroking himself up and down, quick and rough. Your lips part in disbelief, realizing the noise you're hearing is the sound of his palm slapping against the base of his cock as he jacks himself off.

You've gotta be fucking kidding me.

Here you've been, desperately trying to push away any and all sense of desire so you wouldn't make a fool out of yourself, wouldn't make him uncomfortable, and here he is doing that exact thing. Angrily, almost out of spite, you sit up in the chair and stuff your hand down your jeans.

Two can play at that game, asshole.

Your finger goes straight to your clit and you begin to rub it furiously, eyes trained on the dark outline of his hand moving up and down. You can only vaguely make out the shape of him but it's enough to make you start dripping, the base of your palm getting slick as you stimulate yourself continuously. He's well endowed, that much is obvious, and you watch his silhouette as he releases his large cock for a moment to bring his hand to his mouth and lick a stripe along his palm. You have to bite down on your lip to suppress the moan that threatens to bubble from your throat at the action, watching through lidded eyes as he brings his wet hand back down and fists himself once more.

Without much thought you slip your middle finger inside yourself, eyes trained on him as you pretend it's his cock pushing past your entrance. It's pretty difficult to imagine though, considering his cock is probably five times as girthy as your one finger, but you make do. You can kind of make out the shape of the tip, wide and shiny, disappearing and reappearing over and over. You slip a second finger inside and bite back a whimper.

The only sounds in the room are the slapping of his skin and the sudden wet squelch of your fingers; you don't even bother to try and make it softer, you're getting off now whether he knows or not, the fullness overwhelming you as you lick your lips and furrow your brow. You haven't masturbated in a long time; you know it won't take you long to get what you need.

"Are you-" he suddenly gasps into the darkness, and your head snaps up to look at him again, heart pounding when you see that his hand has stilled on his cock and he's looking over at you with an expression of pure disbelief.

You should probably be embarrassed, apologetic, but instead you can't help but feel a rush of pride, of spite, as he realizes what you're doing.

"Like you're not," you hiss back, practically spitting as you continue to fuck yourself, "I'm not deaf."

"Thought you were sleepin'," he says back, and you can see his fingers clench around his length, like he's doing everything in his power not to stroke himself.

"And that makes it less weird?"

He groans and lets go of himself completely, sitting up slightly on the couch and shaking his head like he's trying to wake himself up from a dream he isn't having. When he looks at you again his eyes fall to where you're still getting off, not bothering to be sneaky about the way he practically bores a hole in your jeans with his gaze.

"So what are you gonna do about it?" he challenges gruffly, eyes coming back up to meet yours, the hint of a cocky smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth.

Oh, he's proud of himself, isn't he?

You glare at him, "I'm not gonna do anything about it, Joel. I'm gonna keep going," you mean it too, fingers not even slowing down as you pant breathlessly in his direction, "And you can stay here or you can go, doesn't matter to me."

It does matter, actually, it really does. If he was to get up and walk out... it would basically be a rejection, something you're not sure you'll be able to deal with. You don't break eye contact with him, staring him down as you give him your own challenge.

He swallows, gives you one last look, and then flops back down into a horizontal position as he reaches for himself again. He returns to his quick strokes, almost purposely more heavy this time as he mutters, "No talking. Let's just do it and forget it even happened, deal?"

"Deal," you reply immediately, and add a third finger.

It doesn't take long for you to find your release, a particularly hard slap of skin from Joel on the couch pushing you over the edge. You don't try to stifle your moan this time, focusing completely on enjoying your orgasm as your hand stills in your pants and you begin to shake in the chair. Your hips buck pathetically, eyes shutting tight as you whimper and cry out in pleasure.

"Jesus Christ," you hear Joel pant a few seconds afterward, followed by a long groan as he starts to come too, "Fuck."

You manage to catch a glimpse of the way he twists his wrist, aims his cock against his button-down and stains it with his release. You wish you had a better view, that it wasn't so dark, but just hearing him come apart is enough. It's exactly what you hoped it would be.

You lay there in silence for a few moments, both of you panting breathlessly from your orgasms as the weight of what you've just done starts to creep in. You're suddenly slightly afraid of what he'll say, what he'll do. Will he get mad? Will he say he doesn't want to patrol with you anymore? You decide immediately that you don't want him to have the first word.

"What were you thinking about?" you ask, barely a whisper.

It takes a few moments for him to reply, and you start to worry that you've already ruined everything, but then he answers.

"Bunny ears," he says quietly.

"What?"

"I was thinkin' about the bunny ear girl," he's still breathless, "From the magazine. Weren't you?"

You figure you can't dig the hole any deeper.

"I was just watching you, Joel," you breathe, feeling butterflies tingle in your belly at the words, "Didn't have to think about anything else."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, then mumbles something to himself that you don't understand. You can't fully make out his expression but you swear you see him frown in the moonlight, not exactly the response you were aiming for. He suddenly turns on the couch again to face away from you, exhaling loudly, "Go to sleep."

The words strike you hard, lips parting in surprise. You obviously hadn't expected him to completely reciprocate, to jump into your arms and kiss you, but that? "Go to sleep"? What the fuck kind of a response is that? You stare at him, hoping against reason that he'll turn around again and apologize, say something different, but he doesn't.

"Yeah, sure," you mutter, curling back up into a ball in the chair and hoping sleep finds you as soon as possible so you don't have to think anymore, "Asshole."

You hope he hears you.

-

You wake the next morning to the sound of someone rummaging nearby, and you open your eyes blearily to see Joel crouched near the door, packing his bag. You stretch and yawn automatically, momentarily forgetting what had transpired between the two of you last night. His head tilts up to look at you and it all comes flooding back when you see that familiar frown on his face.

"Do you ever smile?" you say, voice rough with sleep.

He rolls his eyes and goes back to his pack, shaking his head, "Like you're so chipper."

"Well, at least I have a good reason to be annoyed," you snap, sitting up in the chair and stretching your legs, "Asshole."

"You love to call me that, don't you?"

"Just calling it like I see it," you mutter, pulling yourself up and heading past him to the door, "I'm taking a piss."

"Watch out for th-"

"The trip wires, I know," you interrupt coldly, "I'm not an idiot."

He doesn't say anything else but you feel his eyes on your back as you walk out onto the balcony and down the steps. You both have to pee in the woods when you're out here - the ski lifts aren't the only things that don't work properly anymore - so you've managed to each figure out your own designated area. You feel relieved once you're out of his eyesight and beneath the thick layer of tree branches that keep your makeshift bathroom secluded.

You really shouldn't be so pissed at him, it's not like he owes you anything. You know you're projecting your own feelings onto him and that it isn't fair, but god, him telling you to go to sleep after you'd essentially confessed your attraction to him makes your blood boil. He'd really had nothing else to say? Couldn't have come up with something a little softer, a little kinder? Let you down easy?

You grumble to yourself on the way back up the steps, questioning whether or not you should keep ignoring him or just get over it. Is it really worth an hours hike of hostility? You already know this is your last shift with him, there's no way you can come back from this in any way that will keep your dignity intact. It's over.

"You say you're not a kid but you sure do act like one," Joel says the second you re-enter the ski lodge, and you stop dead in your tracks. He's got his arms crossed, nose flaring in anger, "I'm sick and tired of the silent treatment, the cold shoulder, all that shit. What happened to people just talkin' to each other?"

You shut the door behind you and shake your head, "I'm not giving you the silent treatment Joel, calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down," his voice is firm but you can hear some emotion there, something deeper. He doesn't like being ignored and you know why, but it doesn't soften your resolve.

"I'm pissed at you, yeah," you admit, shrugging, "But I think I have a pretty valid reason."

"And what is it?"

You stare, scrunching up your face in confusion, "Are you serious? Jesus, Joel, I thought you were smart."

"Oh, fuck off," he grumbles, rolling his eyes again, "I ain't a mind reader."

You shake your head again, inhaling deeply, "I'm not asking you to read my mind, Joel," you exhale and try to calm yourself, feeling the angry tears begin to sting your eyes. God, you hate how emotional you get when you're angry. You hate showing weakness like this.

"Then tell me," he groans, "Is it about last night? 'Cause I thought we made a deal that we're not gonna talk about it."

You laugh at his words, cold and hard, "Right, yeah, sorry. Deal's a deal, right? My bad," you couldn't sound more sarcastic if you tried, stuffing your roll of toilet paper back in your pack and zipping it up, "Come on, let's just head back and forget about it." Your voice cracks on the last few words and you bite down hard on your lip, feeling the tears spill over.

"Are you crying?" his voice falters, and you hear a twinge of kindness in his tone, something you'd desperately wanted to hear last night.

He crosses the room before you even have a chance to reply, striding over to you and placing his hand on your shoulder firmly, making you turn around. His face softens immediately when he sees the tears streaming down your face, the tears you're already trying to wipe away.

"Fuck," he says, brow furrowing in concern, "I'm sorry."

You snort involuntarily, shaking your head, "I'm just stupid."

"You're not stupid," it's almost a whisper, "I'm the stupid one, believe me," he brings his hand up like he's going to touch your face but seems to think better of it, bringing it back to your shoulder again, "I shouldn't have... I don't know what I was thinkin' last night, I'm sorry. You showed me that magazine and-"

You put your hand up to silence him, "I don't care about why, Joel. I don't even care that you did it, it's not like I told you to stop."

His brow furrows deeper, "Then what...?"

You close your eyes, breathing deeply before putting on your best impression of him and mumbling, "Go to sleep," like he had the night before, opening your eyes again to see if he understands.

He stares at you for a few seconds, confused, but you watch as it suddenly dawns on him, realization spreading across his features. He suddenly lets go of your shoulder and takes a few steps back, eyes falling to the floor.

"You can't... you can't think of me that way," he says it gruffly, swallowing and shaking his head.

You stand there without saying anything, waiting until he finally looks back up at you to speak. When he does, you make sure to look directly in his eyes.

"Why not?"

His hand comes up to touch the back of his neck and you swear you see patches of red begin to bloom along his collarbone, like he's embarrassed...or flattered? You take a step forward and he quickly takes another step backward.

"If it's because of the age thing... I really don't care, Joel," you say earnestly, heart beginning to beat heavily in your chest, "I think you're..." You can't believe the words are even coming out of your mouth, the tears on your face already beginning to dry as you try to process this new situation you've found yourself in, "I think you're sexy."

His brow furrows again, not in anger but in confusion. He doesn't take another step backward when you move toward him this time, staying rooted in place as you peer up at him, waiting for him to speak. He remains silent, his eyes trained directly on your face, lips set in a firm line.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

He shakes his head slowly, "I don't."

"Why?"

He doesn't reply, just keeps staring at you like he has absolutely no idea what to say. You suddenly feel the need to reassure him, comfort him. Your hand moves upward, aching to cup his face in your hand, feel that grey scruff beneath your palm.

He pulls back before you get the chance, shaking his head again, "Don't," it's barely a whisper, voice breaking as he says it, "Just...gimme a minute."

"Okay," you nod, dropping your hand, "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizin'," he breathes, still not breaking eye contact, "Just let me think, please."

You swallow, teeth tugging on your lip as he continues to stand there motionless. He's still looking at you but his thoughts are miles away; you can practically see the wheels turning in his head, calculating exactly what he's supposed to do in a situation like this. Part of you wants him to kiss you, part of you wants to kiss him, part of you wants to wait until he makes a decision. You settle firmly on the third option.

"I lied," he finally breaks the silence, jaw tense and firm, "I wasn't thinkin' about that fuckin' bunny ear model."

Your lips part; you hadn't been expecting him to say that.

"Then...what were you thinking about?" You already know the answer before he replies.

"You," his voice is strained, broken, like he's holding himself back, "I was thinkin' about you and the stupid magazines in the supply closet."

You feel your skin flush, a tingle trailing up the back of your neck as you try not to show him how pleased you are, "W-what?"

"I couldn't stop thinkin' about you in that closet, lookin' at those pictures, getting...." he trails off and swallows, then whispers, "Wet. Gettin' all wet in your panties from that girl getting fucked."

His words send an immediate throb to your core and you can feel your heart in your throat, pounding relentlessly as he continues to speak, continues to say exactly what's been on his mind as you stand in front of him, so much smaller than him, letting his words get lost in the sudden warmth of your body and the buzz of your thoughts.

"I couldn't stop thinkin' about it," he repeats, voice rough, eyes dark, "Your wet panties, your big eyes, your..." he practically chokes then, "Your pussy, all wet and aching."

"Oh my god," you whimper, crossing your legs involuntarily as you feel an immediate surge of wetness in your underwear, "Please, keep talking, please."

"Wanted to see it and touch it," he murmurs, his breath ghosting across your face as he peers down at you with desire in his eyes, "Wanted to fuck it and make you come."

Without hesitation your arms shoot up to wrap around his neck, burying your face in his warm chest and tugging at the collar of his coat, "I want you to," you practically moan, clawing at the material, "Joel, I need you to fuck me right now."

To your absolute dismay he reaches up and removes your arms from him, taking a step back so neither of you are touching. His eyes are so dark, pupils blown wide and that red blush of heat now spread all over his neck and cheekbones.

"I can't," he says, shaking his head, "I'm sorry, I can't."

You're about to protest, whine and beg if you have to, but his eyes fall to your groin. You watch with wide eyes as he goes for his belt, begins to unloop it and remove it.

"Take your pants off," he groans, and you don't need telling twice.

-

You end up masturbating together again, this time in the light of day. You find yourselves laying on the couch where he'd slept last night, the memory of what he'd done there fresh in your mind as you pump two fingers in and out of yourself steadily and watch him stroke his cock to match your pace. He watches you behind hooded eyes, his lips parted as he pants and gets himself off to your pleasure, watches you do the same thing to him.

"That's it," he murmurs, eyes scrunching in arousal as he scans your face, watches you come undone, "Rub your clit, nice and fast."

You whimper, unable to hold on for much longer as you eye his cock and see the way the fat head of it drips for you, slicking his hand and allowing him to stroke faster and faster. You want to say something to help get him off too but your words are completely lost in the sensation; you couldn't speak even if you wanted to.

He knows you're about to come, can see it in your face the way he saw it in the face of the model in the picture. He swallows heavily and fucks himself impossibly faster, harder, silently asking you to match his pace. You do it, thumbing your clit and feeling the tense coil in your belly snap as your jaw drops and you let out a long and ridiculously loud moan. Your eyes shut tight and you throw your head back, feeling your body begin to shake from the stimulation.

"There you go," he grunts, and you hear the slapping of skin stop as he rides out his own release, coming into his fist, "Fuck." Your eyes open at just the right time to see his jaw go slack, eyes practically rolling into the back of his head from the pleasure. It somehow makes you ache for more, even though you can't possibly imagine being any more overstimulated than you already are.

You both lay there, chests heaving, hearts pounding, completely undone. It goes without saying that you've both just managed to each have one of the best orgasms of your lives.

"New patrol rule," you whisper to him, legs still wide and cunt dripping with your release, "We do this. Every time. Please."

"Yes," he replies immediately, still catching his breath, "I can do that."

-

"It can't be any more than this," Joel says to you quietly as you hike down the mountain a little while later, the sunrise cresting the trees again the way it had yesterday when you'd hiked up; it's like nothing has changed, but you both know that everything has.

"Okay," you say just as softly, though part of you aches to reach for his hand, loop your pinky through his and have some degree of touch between you. But you can tell he means business, that there won't be any more discussion on the matter today.

"Just this," he whispers, glancing at you with a meaningful look, eyes soft and tender as he peers at you, knowing what he's done, what he's started.

"Just this," you agree, but you don't really believe it.

You hope, deep down, neither does he.

thank you so much for reading! there will be more in this collection coming very soon. i'd like to do some short fics of certain nights they've had, especially the first time he calls her a good girl. that was originally going to be in this part but it was just getting wayyy too long and i have so many ideas i need to flesh out more lol. i'm also going to continue where they left off in "don't think we could help it", and yes, eventually they will do the deed, i promise. among other things....

if you liked it, please let me know! and again, if you'd like to give me a tip you can do so on my kofi 💖

[mychemstat]

passenger- ray toro

summary: either it was the budding chill in the air, or the wet dream you had about him, but you could not get ray toro out of your mind. going so far as to ignore him at every chance you got not only hurt him, but you as well. you couldn’t focus on anything, ray consuming every single facet of your brain. when gerard offers you straightforward advice, you actually consider his ramblings, no matter how useless he was when he came to his own love life. you weren’t sure if it was worth blurring the lines of friendship. but you did know that you couldn’t wait any longer.

author’s note and warnings: ray toro/gn!reader. friends to lovers, some frerard mentions, smut, porn with plot, oral sex (m receiving), dry humping, reader gets off on his leg while sucking him off, car sex, no reproductive parts of the reader mentioned, ray is HUNG. reader doesn’t suck they swallow.

“fuck… i’m so close…” you breathed out.

you rocked your hips, thighs straddling his waist. his large hands covered your back, gently pulling you into him as he threw his head back, exposing his neck. your lips latched onto the awfully bare looking skin under his jawline, planting open-mouthed kisses as his hips bucked into yours.

“fuck, i’m not gonna last if you kiss my neck like- ah- like that…”

you felt his pulse against your lips, nibbling on the skin against his collarbone. “then i better keep going, huh?”

he suddenly stopped moving. confused, you sat back up and looked at him, “what?”

“do you want to take a break?” he asked. you tilt your head, bewildered.

“no, do you?”

“do you want to take a break?” he repeated, his face deadpanning.

“what? what’s- going on, are you okay?” you were concerned. why was he acting like that?

his voice was louder this time, “do you wanna take a break?”

“no, i don’t, why do you keep asking me this?”

“do you want to take a break?” you pulled back into reality as ray’s voice broke the daydream you embarked on, not realizing how you had spaced out mid-rehearsal.

it was two in the afternoon, the chill in the air slowly seeping through the crevices of your bandmate’s basement door. chapped lips and a dry tongue had you croaking into your mic, audible gulps following each line of yours. you sweated through your flimsy shirt, shifting weights with the guitar on your neck pulling you down to the floor. restless fingers grasping stray strands of your hair to move them back into place every few seconds, making sure you looked presentable.

the distorted note on ray’s guitar rang in your ears before he muted it, leaning in your direction. the drums in the back trailed off as you practically heard frank’s eyes roll.

you roughed up your bottom lip from chewing on it like fodder. you needed to rip your hair out one follicle at a time. you wanted to scream. you wanted to slam this stupid guitar that strained your neck against the wall and storm out.

a sudden, strange pressure to be perfect in front of your bandmates took over you. before that week, you didn’t care if they saw you fuck up because you knew that they knew how good you are at what you do. you respected the band and the art just as much as they did.

did it have something to do with the sort-of life-changing information you received a few days ago? definitely not, you thought.

so why was it that when you and gerard grabbed coffee a few days ago, and he made a passing comment on the fact that ray, a good friend and the lead guitarist of your band, had a sex dream about you, you spat out hot coffee on his new jacket?

why was it that you had tuned out gerard whining over his ruined jacket because you were too busy trying to calm your heart rate?

why was it that that exact night, you dreamt about making out with ray in the backseat of his car, fogged up glasses, handprints, and all?

and why, of all that is good, did you tell gerard about this? he had not stopped teasing you about it, and it started to feel like he never would.

you could almost hear that sneaky little shit’s thoughts through his expressions- which ray was happily unaware of. gerard grabbed his mic, held it close to his open lips, and pressed his tongue against his cheek repeatedly, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, mocking your dream.

it was bad enough that your brain decided to see ray, your bandmate, in such a new light, now you were daydreaming about dry-humping in the back of his car and being called out by gerard for doing so.

if you could kill anyone at this moment, it would be that fucker.

that was the fourth time you messed up at rehearsal. arriving late, sweaty and out of breath to practice wasn’t enough, apparently. it was as if you had to piss off your bandmates further. gerard and mikey’s house was fifteen minutes away from yours, but when you woke up five minutes before band practice, you barely had time to put on a decent outfit let alone eat something, before grabbing your backpack and bolting.

so, when you ran into the brothers’ basement, you were greeted by a symphony of annoyed groans and “finally!”s, unable to meet their eyes.

you wish you started off with tiny mistakes that didn’t matter too much. you wish. first, you missed your cue to sing. second, you simply forgot the lyrics.

and anyone who said third time’s the charm,was a liar, you soon realized. you spaced out mid-song staring at the boy in front of you, long curly hair framing his eyes, fanning out over his soft lips.

fuck, not now, you scolded yourself.

“guys, i’m so fucking sorry, i just…i don’t know what’s fucking wrong with me today-” you ducked your head, hands reaching for the guitar strapped around your neck to free yourself from the weight that felt unbearable at that point.

“i can think of a reason…” gerard quipped sing-songily, cocking an eyebrow at you.

the glare you threw at him was equally as charged, making him motion at his lips as if he were locking them up and throwing away the key.

“maybe you should take a break…” ray repeated, ignoring gerard and readjusting the strap around his shoulders. frank looked like he couldn’t wait for this conversation to be over so he could start playing again. mikey was quiet as usual; he was one of the more easygoing of the bunch. no drama, nothing.

you looked up at ray, guilt painting your visage as you exhaled slowly. you knew you need a break. you know he’s right of course.

you cannot blame yourself either. the fact that you both had sex dreams about each other makes you want to chew drywall. you promised yourself you would not ever fall for any of your bandmates, not even accidentally: a promise that seemed laughably doable after the first week of knowing them.

now that you actually noticed his every movement: the way his curls bounced, the way his fingers moved like butter across the fretboard, the way he could improvise the best melodies at the drop of a hat, the way he threw his head back while experimenting on the guitar that looked like it weighed nothing to him.

it was like there were permanent rose-colored glasses surgically attached to your face that emphasized every breath and blink of the hunk of a guitarist standing in front of you. thinking about him made you feel high, and you hated the amount of pleasure you derived just from recounting every feature of his.

you couldn’t look ray in the eyes. it was way too risky. what if you start giggling for no reason, or acting weird?

“i think i’ll… go home and take a nap. maybe that’s what i need.” you accepted defeat, rubbing your temples and bending over the couch behind you to grab your backpack.

“what you need is to get lai-”

“are you okay to perform tonight?” mikey asks, interrupting his brother, the only other guy to have his head screwed tight.

oh, right. the show.

amongst the whole sex dream fiasco, you had forgotten about all your responsibilities, including the gig you signed the band up for.

you nodded, “i’ll see you all at the gig tonight. i’ll be better, i promise.” you knew they would understand, but that didn’t stop you from feeling the massive weight of guilt crush your shoulders.

“do you need me to drop you off if you’re not feeling okay? It’s no big deal,” ray offered, about to take his guitar off his shoulders.

“no!” you shrieked. too loudly. gerard snickered in the back.

it was bad enough that you couldn’t even meet ray’s eyes, you didn’t think you could handle him driving you home, sitting so close to you, his legs spread apa-

“i can go by myself. you guys should rest up too. we have practiced enough i think… not you, gee, you could warm-up a bit.” you winked at him, hoping the playfulness in your voice didn’t sugarcoat your absolute hatred for him at the moment.

the speed with which you left the stuffy basement that smelled like beer breath, shocked you (you were far from athletic). you preferred working on your music and overanalyzing movies in your own time.

getting out in the open, fresh air made you feel much better. the growing distance from ray left you feeling empty almost like a dopamine detox would.

a slight sense of relief tagged along. the jersey air nipped at your nose as you squinted your eyes and buried your chin in your coat’s neck.

at least the headphones trailing from your ears to your backpack protected your ears against the sharp chill in the air. the thin, dark-wooded trees barely harbored leaves, forming nerve-like patterns against the dark-gray sky. the crunch beneath your converse soothed your nerves a bit as the effect of the numbing cold made you forget everything for a while. the next track in your mixtape undid all that.

it was the song you heard ray play the first time you met him.

this tall nerd in g’s basement, fooling around with his guitar to play what happened to be your favorite song. quietly humming along, toothy smile as he tried new variations of the underlying riff, shaking his head to the rhythm, huge hands knowing exactly what they were doing. the mild scent of lavender in the air as watched his fingers fly across the fretboard, being painfully obvious that you were watching him closely.

you didn’t think you remembered so much of that day. maybe you already had a thing for him, and you didn’t know it.

but how could you not? being in a band with someone who was as talented as ray made you want to become a better musician. plus, the word “crush” made you wince- it was so middle school. it was more than just physical with him.

he was always there for everyone: the responsible one, the one that made sure that when the two rowdy dumbasses, g and frank, were out of line, he fixed it. the one who made sure everyone’s input was considered.

there was no doubt that you found him the most attractive in the band; the mastery of his instrument had you obsessing over learning as much as you could from him. you would spend the most time with him than any other bandmate. sharing a cig when you could, even though neither of you were addicted to it like gerard or frank were, asking him to show you how to pinch the strings even when the band was on a break from rehearsal, him enthusiastically hearing everything you had to say about the most recent movie you saw. it was comfortable. you felt safe with him.

you just never realized how important he was in your life till that day. and that made you want to throw up.

he was just a guy. he was just some dude. he was just a man. he was just a friend.

by the time you entered your apartment to kick your shoes off and lie down on your bed, the words “just a friend” became jumbled sounds. even gaslighting yourself into believing something did not work.

was he ever just your friend?

you tried recounting every interaction with him: every time you walked to his apartment with a new movie stashed in your bag that he hadn’t seen, gifting him a mixtape you made for the songs you wanted him to listen to.

adjusting his glasses for him when they were slightly knocked to the side, grabbing and shaking his thighs when you were excited about something in a movie you liked.

huh, you weren’t completely blameless.

your dreaded gaze shifted from your ceiling to the clock on the wall at three pm. three hours until your gig.

three hours until you had to see him.

you let out a wail of agony into your pillow before kicking off your clothes and shutting your eyes for what you hoped would be fifteen minutes.

you woke up an hour later, groggy and nauseous from the ill-timed nap. you panicked for a few seconds before realizing you were on time for your show.

it wasn’t like you hadn’t played in front of people before. you had performed maybe fifteen shows with the rest of the boys for even bigger bars than you were about to tonight.

but of course, that night was different, because you would carry the curse of knowing you liked someone you should not be liking.

he was your bandmate. mixing business with pleasure was never a good idea, from the countless movies you had seen with ray himself. you knew this was a bad idea. but something about wanting something you cannot have just made it more enticing.

you did know not to let this interfere with the show. your work was always the bigger priority; not some stupid crush that was probably just a temporary effect of the dream.

after tripping on your way to your bathroom sink, you splashed cold water on your face to snap yourself out of sleep. an all-black ensemble; a tank top and jeans; to go with the slightly expensive shoes you saved up for was enough self-decor. you weren’t a fan of showing skin: usually seen with sweaters or cardigans and sweatpants, but you didn’t mind it for performances. especially that night.

yawning and climbing through your clothes, you dragged the tip of the eyeliner over your eyelids and on your waterline before taking your finger and smudging it. you were glad that this sort of rushed make-up satiated your desire to look good. gerard or frank, on the other hand… they went all out.

but to your pure disappointment, it had only been ten minutes.

well, fuck.

when you met your band after that disaster of a rehearsal, you made your ability to make gold out of pure shit work wonders for you. an annoying smile on your face and a strong avoidance of any eye-contact with ray had you at the perfect headspace for the performance.

even when he said hi to you, you simply nodded at him and turned your attention to your guitar in the green room, practicing and focusing on the technique and the order of the chords.

the turnout was more than you had expected. as much as you hated to admit it, gerard was the best frontman, frankie headbanged his way through the show, mikey and ray played next to and off of each other, engrossed in their performances. your stiff, focused posture received multiple side-eyed glances by your bandmates, especially mikey, but you couldn't care less

you didn’t miss cues, you remembered the lyrics, and you, surprisingly, improvised on your solo. just a little more than the bare minimum. you could work with that. you just wanted that night to end as fast as possible.

but of course, just like everything else, gerard had to make your life harder.

your attempt to drink yourself to normalcy didn’t pan out. as soon as you sprinted to the bar to get a drink (or ten) in you, you heard gerard talk about a “kickback” at his place. an afterparty, he explained. it wasn’t like you could tell him no, you lived fifteen minutes away from him, and more importantly, he could sniff out a lie when he needed to.

when you saw gerard sneak out after the show to the band’s van, you followed him, ready to confront him and get away from the crowd yelling and screaming around ray, frank, and mikey.

gerard leaned against the van, lighting up a cigarette, the flame casting a dim orange hue over his face. you catch up to him and flick the back of that idiot’s head.

“ow! the fuck was that for?” he exclaimed, trying to hit you back on your arm, but you were already away from his reach.

“you know exactly what that was for!” you yelled, slamming back into the van's door, sulking, turning to the left to stare daggers into your cherry-haired friend’s face.

“tell me the truth. did you tell ray about my dream?”

“that’s what you’ve been worried about? no, you freak!” gerard scowls, “you know i don’t gossip!”

“then why did you tell me ray’s secret?” you counter.

“because it wasn’t a secret! the others know about it too! he told them!”

“but he didn’t tell me, you asshole. that’s what makes it a secret.” you seethed, trying to flick his forehead.

he covered his head with his hands trying to swat yours away, “okay, alright i fucked up! he just didn’t make it seem as big a deal as you did, so i thought it was okay to tell you.”

oh.

you went back to stand with your back against the van, the cool metal suddenly sending sharp shivers down your spine. a rude reality check. your lungs flattened, a blunt punch to the gut making you instantly nauseous. why did you not think about that? of course it wasn’t a big deal to him. you guys were friends after all. just friends.

the older man, noticing the obvious change in energy, tried covering up, “maybe he wanted us to tell you because he was too scared to tell you himself..”

you stayed quiet, leaning against the car window, letting the chill in the night envelop your sweaty skin. the adrenaline rush of having performed seemed to have crashed as you felt your feet turn jelly.

gerard blew smoke out, ashing it between the two of you. the smell of tobacco and nicotine enveloped you, almost like a comforting hug amidst the sharp twinges of the wind.

gerard extended his cigarette to you, “i’m sorry.”

you didn’t speak. the cigarette fit perfectly between the gap of your index and middle finger, like it was crafted for your digits, you realized, sipping it slowly.

the slow burn of the smoke in your lungs almost made you want to choke almost instantly, but you fought back, blowing out the cloud of cancer.

“i think i see why you smoke… you probably go through this every day with frank, huh?” you tried pullingyour friend’s leg, earning a swift punch on your arm.

“you’re a dick.” he said, choking out smoke, clearly surprised by the sudden jab at the state of his pathetic love life.

“you love me.” you stated with a smile, sucking the last of the cigarette before crushing it under your feet and dragging open the door of the van. “when are we going to learn?”

“before we die, i hope.” he answered you, climbing into the passenger seat.

before you knew it, mikey, ray, and frank ran back to the car, a chorus of laughter following them. you straightened up at the sound of ray’s voice and hoped to god he doesn’t sit next to you in the car.

god, however, seemed to have a personal vendetta against you because mikey decided to drive, leaving only you and ray in the backseat.

frank, for some reason, decided not to come with. said he was “busy.”

99% chance he was about to hook up with a dude whose name frank wouldn’t remember the next morning. scratch that, he definitely already forgot. you admired frank for his ability to fuck randos in bars and then forget about them the next morning. anonymous orgasms, he called them. as much as you hated it, you wanted to be like him. be carefree. be selfish. not some loser who, through the fault of their idiot, red-haired friend, developed a possibly destructive crush on their band member which would absolutely interfere with their day-to-day activities.

ray scooted into the backseat, telling mikey to turn the radio on as he rolled down the window near him, “i feel fuckin alive right now.”

“i know, those cheers had crack in ‘em. not one heckler either!” gerard added with an overtrying smile, clearly trying to recover from the fact that frankie was about to fuck a complete stranger, a whole year after their (secret) one night stand.

you felt ray look at you from the corner of your eyes but told yourself he was looking at your window.

you liked lying to yourself.

he shifted further in your direction and casually laid a hand out. a move so subtle, it would’ve seemed normal to the naked eye. a guitarist stretching his fingers after a show wasn’t uncommon, certainly not questionable. but you. you knew exactly what he was doing.

and you did not care for it.

“he didn’t make it as big a deal as you did.” why. why. why did you do this to yourself.

if it were acceptable, you would have hit yourself but you didn’t because you had to look like you didn’t care. you had to look like you didn’t care that ray could tell you were bothered without you having to say a word. you didn’t care that he was caring and still wanted to talk to you after the way you treated him.

and you loathed yourself for it.

he was nice to everyone. he was observant with everyone. right?

ray, however, did not remove his hand from near your thigh, almost bumping into your leg multiple times as the car rode over bumpers.

“drive properly, way!” you barked, looking back at the buildings and cars whooshing by in a blur.

you tried your hardest not to be part of any conversation by sulking into your seat so much that you hoped you would turn invisible.

by the time you reached gerard’s place, you were positive you wanted to drink yourself into the next morning because you did not want to remember anything. having a crush never bode well with you, and you were starting to think that it would never.

you were the first one at the cooler in his basement to fish out two beers and camp on the right end of the couch. the soft, sinking cushions had you exhaling in relief as you cracked open the beer.

ray, mikey, and then later, gerard filtered into the room, taking seats on the floor, or the ottoman.

and of course, ray sat on the small couch. right next to you.

his thigh pressed up against yours, his (huge) hands covering his knees as he shifted back and forth to make himself comfortable. g threw him and mikey a can each before perching on the ottoman and turning the tv on.

as you chugged the beer, you ignored the heat radiating off ray’s body; the scent of cologne mixed with sweat from tonight’s performance made you straighten your posture. there was a dull throb between your legs from the sudden contact he made, but of course, you did what you did best.

ignored it.

the more you drank, however, the harder it became to ignore it. so much so, that you crossed your legs and leaned away from him onto the armrest for some well needed friction.

then, ray spilled beer on his pants.

it was an accident. ray was fixated on the tv— some cheap horror flick that g thought would be hilarious to make fun of. ray, no matter how tall and buff, was a pussy. so when that jumpscare hit and instead of laughing like g and mikey, his body jerked, he spilled his whole drink on his pants, muttering a string of “fuck”s that caught g’s attention over the loud volume of the tv.

“oh, toro, don’t tell me you fucked up my couch!” gerard whined, again, getting up from his seat, flailing his arms.

“dude, i’m sorry, i wasn’t expecting to jump..” ray trailed off, rising to his feet to look down at his pants. mikey tugged ray’s arm to the door, “come on, i have some clothes you can wear.”

gerard, noticing that you looked… off, offered you a water bottle from the cooler. you chugged the bottle, cherishing the moisture that your dry throat needed and looked at your friend whose gaze bathed you in such pity that you wanted to curl up into a ball and die.

“it’s that bad, huh?”

you dropped your head in his lap, groaning and getting back up to lay across the couch, “g, i don’t know what to do with myself.”

“you were normal a few days ago, why can’t you just... be normal again?” he questioned, humor coating his voice.

“you’re saying that? miss i-wanna-fuck-frank-so-bad-i’ll-sit-through-him-fucking-the-whole-town-before-me?” you snapped, in no mood to joke around.

“touche. i’ll just go fuck myself, i guess.” he got up to walk back to his seat, genuinely sounding hurt.

“i was kidding, g. please tell me what to do. please?” you begged, hoping he would notice the sincerity of your words.

gerard pretended to think about his options for a moment before sitting back down, “fine, only because you asked nicely.” you sat up, ready to hear genuine advice.

“you need to tell him.”

“you have ten seconds to get the fuck away from me before i kil-”

“think about it!” he prefaced, “the longer you let your crush on ray stew, the more painful it’s going to be. just tell him and get it over with!”

not that gerard didn’t have a point, but it’s that you wanted a simpler, less confrontational way of solving this problem.

“what if it makes things awkward?” you whined, sulking your shoulders.

“you know ray doesn’t care about any of that right? he’s like the calmest person on the planet, and he cares about you.” gerard informed, walking back to his seat at the sound of crescendoing footsteps.

ray entered the basement before mikey, a new pair of pants that looked strange at first.

he was in grey sweats, mikey’s clearly, they hugged his legs and rode up at his ankles but he didn’t seem to mind. the moment he walked under the light, your eyes immediately threw their focus on gerard who was also looking back at you, noticing the obvious elephant in the room.

jesus fuck, was he hung. it was hard not to stare at the obvious dickprint against the cotton fabric of his sweats. gerard let out a “look at that” whistle, knowing exactly what was going through your mind.

“these are kind of tight, huh?” ray addressed, to nobody in particular, stretching his legs and adjusting the fabric around waist. a jolt of energy traveled between your legs as you watched him adjust himself in those pants.

gerard, tired of your pussyfooting, talked to you directly, “you wanna go home already?”

huh?

you looked up at him, confused, trying to figure out what was cooking in his head, “what? when did-”

“aww, shucks. i wish you could stay longer. well, i guess ray will have to drive you home since you’ve had a beer already!” he was bad at being subtle, to say the least.

what. the. fuck.

your eyes widened. you wanted to punch that fucker’s face in so bad. you weren’t ready. especially after what you saw.

“yeah, totally, um. are you okay with that?” ray asked you, his lips looking pinker than ever. almost like he was begging you.

no. no. no. nope. you were not-

“sure!” your mouth had a mind of its own.

-you were going with him.

gerard smiled sickly sweetly at you before turning off the tv and walking towards the door, a sign for everyone else to get the fuck out. you flipped him off before turning to ray and walking ahead of him so that you did not see. that.

you couldn’t get the image out of your head. sweet, guitar-nerd ray, had a huge-

“good job performing today.” ray muttered, looking down at you, breaking your horny train of thought.

“oh! uh, thanks. and you were uh-” fuck, quick think of a word, “breathtaking.”

great going, idiot. if he didn’t already know before, he definitely knows now.

“that is the first time anyone has ever used that word for me,” he chuckled, “but thanks…” his voice that was usually husky and light, now levering lower than usual.

at that moment, you wished for any god out there to take you. the embarrassment was too much.

crickets chirped in the starless night as the two of you walked through the stone-laid path between grass. your tank top was purely decorative at that point, doing barely any work to protect you from the cold. ray, a gentleman, noticed you shiver, and of-fucking-course offered you his jacket.

“won’t you be cold?” you asked through chattering teeth, hugging yourself.

“nah, im wearing a thick shirt underneath. you might as well be naked right now,” he commented, eyeing your tank top.

a furious blush rose to your cheeks at his comment. something about the way he said it, made your breath hitch, as if it implied that he had consciously thought about you naked.

ray stopped to give you his zip-up hoodie as he tore it off his torso, the hem of his tight black shirt riding up to reveal the tuft of hair trailing down his underwear. you gulped involuntarily as you watched him adjust his shirt underneath and place the jacket around your shoulders. you never realized just how tall he was before he towered over you; your eyeline was at his chest.

fuck, this wasn’t helping the butterflies in your stomach.

you thanked him, trying not to look into his eyes too much before walking to his car. ray took a beat before starting toward his car again, almost as if he was waiting for something.

his car was new— well, as new as a second-hand car could be—painted in jet black with the plate reading “jet-star” some reference to his favorite comic book series. you chuckled under your breath before climbing in, trying to warm up fast so that you wouldn’t need his stupid jacket anymore, with his stupid scent of soap, cologne, and sweat, and the stupid warmth that you definitely wanted to steal from him.

you tapped your feet nervously against the floor of the car, as if that would get you closer to your apartment somehow.

ray walked over to the driver’s seat, mirroring you and strapping on his seatbelt. he was huge. no, not just like that, but physically. larger than you in every aspect. as his fingers reached for his keys, you noticed his pants shift, igniting every dirty thought in your mind.

fuck. fuckity fuck.

“you comfy?” he asked, looking behind the car. you nodded, noticing that he placed his hand on the back of your headrest and started to back up.

you didn’t know whether it was him leaning so close to you, or the hand he threw over your seat, but your stomach would be a gold medalist gymnast for the sheer amount of times it flipped. you noticed the freckles he had, somehow more prominent under the dim orange light of his car, forming miniature constellations on his face. you were well aware that you were staring but you didn’t care anymore.

it was better you told him. you had been this way for two days already, and your condition was only getting worse. it was like ray had cast a love spell on you, and you couldn’t get rid of it no matter what you tried distracting yourself with.

ray’s eyes flickered to your face, previously brown now hazel under the light. you had never felt safer in your entire life as you did then.

he broke into a smile, “what? is there something on my face?” he asked, his left hand flying to his cheek gauging for something to pluck out.

you shook your head, edge of your lips curving up in fondness, “you know, you’re really pretty.”

instantly, he furrowed his eyebrows, clearly taken aback, “huh-what? where is this coming from? did you drink too much? you know you’ve been acting weird all day, what’s with yo-”

it was time, “g told me, you know.”

he tilted his head, like he was trying to recall what you were talking about, “about wha-”

your heart was in your throat, every beat vibrating your torso. it was then or never.

“the fucking sex dream, toro.” you deadpanned, sitting up and facing him.

“oh. that…” he trailed off, taking his hand off your headrest and resting them on his thighs. “listen, i didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, which is why i didn’t tell you. i didn’t want to weird you out.” he explained, avoiding eye-contact.

your gaze was fixated on his face, listening to every single word carefully.

“is it true?” you asked, turning toward him and unbuckling your seat belt since the car was no longer moving. confusion washed over his face as he unknowingly fidgeted his fingers.

“do you feel that way about me?” your heart pounded so hard, you wouldn’t be surprised if ray could hear it too. ray looked ahead, his eyes glued to the road ahead. the faint noise of static from the radio dwindled in the air, alleviating your anxiety just a bit.

“do you?” he whispered, like he just gave away a secret.

you stumbled over your words, not expecting to be interrogated in his place, “i asked first,”

“and i’m asking you now. do you feel… that way about me?” a mixture of hesitance and expectation brewed in his tone.

your palms turned white hot, eyes widening at the accusation. you knew that the more time you took to answer him, the more obvious your feelings would be. on one hand, you wanted to tell the truth. on the other hand, you feared the worst of what could happen.

what if he didn’t feel the same way? what if this was just a ploy to get you to confess and then leave you high and dry. what if-

time moved slowly. ray let go of the steering wheel, placing his hand on your cheek, warmth spreading over your face. his fingers caressed your cheekbone, eyes looking into yours and dipping down to your lips, “tell me you don’t feel that way about me… and i’ll pull away and we will go back to being…” he looked up at your eyes, “just friends.”

the hands that were once on your thighs, gripping them out of nervousness, now tangled in his curly locks, guiding his lips to yours.

you could feel your organs jump from excitement, fingers roaming and threading his hair as he kissed you. his soft, plump lips guided yours skillfully, making you moan into his mouth. ray smiled against you and gently pulled back.

he leaned his forehead against yours. you breathed out slowly “you have no idea how long i have wanted to do this for.”

“me too. i can’t believe i’m kissing y-”

“less talking, more making out, toro.” you interrupted, pulling him in, by the collar of his tight shirt, making him gasp in surprise before pressing his mouth to yours again. his hands trailed from your face to your waist, covering half your torso.

he handled your waist like he was scared to break you, fingertips ghosting over your skin, itching to sneak underneath the fabric of your shirt and feel you. an accidental contact of his arms and your thighs made you arch into him, arms automatically hooking behind his neck.

you moaned without a care in the world, leaning back into your seat and pulling him on top of you, ready to be ravaged.

“ray …” you whimpered through the kisses, “please just-”

“not yet, i need to savor this-” his lips latched to your neck, “need to taste you.”

you bucked your hips in desperation, your arousal getting unbearable. you never knew ray was this experienced. he did mention being in relationships here and there, but he was never like frank or mikey, open to anyone.

he nibbled gently on your ear as you pawed at his broad, firm chest, “toro, you didn’t tell me you- fuck- worked out.”

“there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he said through heavy breaths, trailing kisses down your neck to your collarbones. he looked up at you, fingers grabbing the hem of your tank top. you nodded, giving him permission to take it off you.

as you were about to lift your back up to get rid of the flimsy black fabric, ray’s hand snuck under your shirt, supporting and lifting your back as his other hand swiped the tank top off you in one go. his fingers almost spanned your entire back, placing you back down as you lay there shirtless.

the leather seats were uncomfortably cold, making you shiver in response. the everloving, observant man on top of you let you go and moved back into the driver’s seat, pulling the lever under his seat, reclining as low as the seats could go, “get on top.”

the sheer gray fabric of his pants now stretched as his legs spread apart, leaving virtually nothing to the imagination. your lips parted in surprise, your gut twisting deliciously. you grabbed his thigh for support as you climbed into his lap, thighs straddling his waist.

in a moment of deja-vu, you giggled softly, looking away from the man beneath you.

“what? what’s so funny?” ray asked, amused, shifting closer to your hips.

“this is exactly how it went it my dream.” you confessed, shifting your gaze to him, receiving a cocked eyebrow.

“you dreamt about fucking me in a car?” he asked, barely censoring himself like he usually would.

that earned him a playful smack on his torso, his calloused fingers drawing circles on the small of your back. you arched into his touch, trying to explain your dream. ray, however, barely focused on what you said, was distracted by your chest. hardened nipples adorned with piercings met his eyeline, and he wasted no time to kiss one of your pecs and lick them, making your voice go an octave higher.

“ray, fuck, please…” you begged for nothing, grinding down on his hips, feeling him move against your crotch.

“tell me more about your dream, was i any good?” he gave you a toothy smirk, cock stirring in his pants.

“you were so good, oh my god, you went do-” you croaked as he surprised you by pushing your hips down on his clothed dick, “you made me cum on your tongue so many times,” you answered, your digits creeping under his tight shirt, feeling his happy trail against your fingertips. you heard ray gasp softly and throw his head back at your sudden touch.

taking a mental note, you played with the band of his — mikey’s— sweatpants, leaning down to his ear to whisper, “can i? please?”

he groaned, roaming his hand up your back and down to the flesh of your ass, “yes. please, now.”

his voice exuded desperation, bottom lip jutted out in anticipation.

you climbed out of his lap and onto the floor of the car, knees resting against the floor mats. you placed careful kisses on his stomach, ambling them down his v-line. licking your lips, you hooked your fingers under his waistband, slowly pulling them off him. the pace at which the fabric dragged across his shaft made him buck his hips into nothing.

his cock jumped at the first contact with your fingers. you wrapped them around his impressive length, obviously not able to make a fist around his girth.

you weren’t a complete stranger to oral sex, but the sheer size of ray’s dick made you a bit nervous. you didn’t realize how you were already salivating at the sight of his hard, throbbing dick, palms feeling up his inner thighs and trailing up his hips, lips inching closer to his tip.

“you ready?” you asked, one final check before you crossed the friendship line forever.

“yes, definitely yes, but are you? i wanna make sure that yo-”

you cut him off with your tongue circling the tip of his cock, the saliva accumulating slowly dribbling down to his cock. ray threw his head back, cursing under his breath at the sensation of your warm tongue around his dick. he looked down at you through his bottom lashes, licking a stripe up the underside before taking him in your mouth, a visual he had been aching for.

the warmth of your mouth made him fist your hair as you moaned at the feeling of your hair being pulled, sending vibrations up his cock.

hollowing out your mouth, you sunk your mouth down on him, one hand resting on his thigh, massaging it slowly.

tears prickling, you let your drool lubricate him and drip further down before pulling him out with a pop. your drool mixed with his precum connected the edge of your bottom lip to his tip.

“you keep going like that, and i’ll be useless to you,” he gasped out, breathing heavily like he did not expect you to treat him so well.

the corner of your mouth twitched up before coiling the string of saliva around your thumb and smearing it against the slit of his tip, etching an embarrassingly loud moan from him.

“what the actual fuck…” he was enamored by you.

“how many times have you thought about me like this, toro? gagging over your cock on my knees?” you kissed his thighs, fist pumping him slowly. he felt better in your mouth than anybody else had. like his dick was made for you.

“too many fucking times to remember if i’m being honest…” he answered you immediately, twitching at your mercy.

before you could ask him another question that would make him blush furiously, turning his cheeks pink, he continued, “ever since i saw you in that choker g gifted you on your birthday... i haven’t been able to stop thinking about how easy it would be to break that fucking thing with me deep in your throat.” he mewled, the inside of his eyebrows twisting up in pleasure.

one your hands flew to ray’s leg for support, your hips involuntarily bucking against his ankle at his comment.

“fuck, why didn’t you tell me sooner, toro?” you asked, finally seeking friction against his leg, “you’re a pussy…” you wanted to provoke him.

“you are what you eat,” he countered, tossing the ball in your court.

this is what attracted you to ray in the first place. his ability to go along with whatever you said because he knew you would never say anything in bad faith. he liked you. he wanted you.

your cheeks grew hotter with every second, relishing the fact that you were exactly where you have wanted to be for a while.

he saw you blush furiously at his confession before you twisted your grip and pumped him faster, gathering spit at the tip of your tongue. ray’s fingers grabbed a fistful of your hair before lowering you onto his cock.

you spat on the tip, earning a guttural groan from him. you wasted no time to wrap your lips around him once again, closing your eyes and letting him reach deeper down your throat with every stroke.

“you feel- so fucking- oh my god-” he spewed out nonsense as you went further every time you came back up for air. ray’s thighs twitched, knees leaning toward each other, trapping you between his legs.

his grip on your hair tightened, pulling at and scratching your scalp more than before. now that you were between his legs, his cock bottomed out in your mouth, you felt your throat contract around his tip, his thighs pressing your mouth further on his dick.

ray swore that he would have simply cum from the sounds you made choking and crying over his dick. your eyeliner had bled down from your waterline to your chin, the tears and drool painting your face pathetic.

your jaw hurt from cockwarming the man above you, but he clearly seemed to enjoy the show you put on. gasping and smiling down at you like he does at his shows when he shreds on his guitar. the adrenaline all too familiar to him, yet enthralling as ever.

“you make me crazy… fuck i’m so close,” he announced, biting his bottom lip.

your left hand, with a mind of its own, walked up his thighs to cup his balls. his cock jerked in your mouth before you took him in fully, your nose pressed up against his happy trail.

“fuck, i’m coming, oh fuck oh fuck-” he wailed, pressing you further down on him before spilling his cum down your throat, twitching with each wave of orgasm taking over his body. you pulled your mouth off his dick, rubbing against his ankle, chasing the high you had built up so far.

with each swallow you rocked against his leg faster, falling apart quickly. as you tripped over the edge of orgasm, ray bumped his leg up, meeting you halfway. white light engulfed you as you shut your eyes, riding your orgasm out for as long as possible.

“fuck, you came just from humping my leg?” ray asked, astonished. your head fell into his lap, drawing small circles on the side of his thighs before kissing up. rising from your knees, you climbed back into his lap, giving him enough room to put his sweatpants back on.

“was that good?” you asked, looking down at him, hands at his waist.

his hands stroked your cheeks, fingers nudging your chin toward him. the aftershocks of your orgasm made it hard for you to rise to the seat, your grip on his thighs tightening for support. he grabbed your hips, pulling you up easily.

heavy-lidded gazes entwining, the warmth of his arms around your torso pulled the corners of your lips up.

ray didn’t even have to answer you. he craned his neck to kiss you, tasting himself on your lips. you nibbled on his bottom lip, eliciting a soft moan from him.

“why didn’t we do this earlier?” you ask softly, pulling back and looking into his eyes.

“better late than never,” he sighed, slowly closing his eyes shut, “i’ve wanted you…”

your heartbeat quickened.

“...for so damn long.”

butterflies. those damn butterflies made your heart feel like it was budding something new. something exciting.

“well you can’t get rid of me now,” you smiled, admiring the freckles on his skin; sweat glistening on his neck. the bite marks you left bloomed in reddish-violet hues under the dim light of the car. fogged car windows giving you the illusion of privacy as you kissed the corner of his mouth before climbing off of him and back to your seat.

“you’re coming over right?” you asked, looking ahead. you were not going to fuck this up.

“thought you’d never ask,” he stated simply, turning the car on and stepping on the gas.

_________________

an: heyyy!! thank u for reading!! mcr brainrot has me by the throat... lmk if u liked it :)

[chahnniesroom]

tenderness | bonus scene: banmal

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: the first time you call chan 'oppa.'

this is a bonus scene taking place in the tenderness universe, but you don't have to have read tenderness to read this fic! just know that the main character is currently a manager for stray kids. she's also chan's soulmate, which explains why she lives in the dorms with him.

chapter word count: 1.6k

warnings: none!

a/n: a bit of fluff was requested by one of the readers on ao3. the term 'banmal' is used to describe informal speech in korean and is usually for casual conversation between friends, relatives, or people younger than you. i can't properly demonstrate the way that the main character's speech level changes since speech levels don't exist the same way in english. i only modified the honorifics that y/n uses to address the members. this was my first time writing fluff, it was surprisingly fun!

tenderness masterlist | read it on ao3

“Noona?” You and Jisung are lounging in the living room after a schedule that miraculously ended early. You're not sure where the other guys are and you don't really care, it's nice to have one on one time with Jisung. 

“Hm?” You drag your eyes away from the drama that the two of you have been half heartedly been watching to find him deep in thought.

“You called me Jisung-ssi earlier. You always do that. Why?”

“Ah,” you say, flustered. “It just still feels weird to talk to you guys informally. I don’t want anybody to get the wrong idea.”

“But you don’t call Felix, Felix-ssi! I’ve even heard you call him Lixie before! Why is he special?” Jisung whines.

“It’s different!” you defend yourself. “We talk in English mostly. There’s not really any honorifics or levels of speech. It’d be weirder if I did speak formally to him.”

“Sounds like an excuse, but okay. What do you call Channie-hyung?” he asks with a particular gleam in his eyes.

“Chan-ssi,” you say matter-of-factly. You have to bite back a laugh at the disappointed noise he makes at your response.

“Minho-hyung?”

“Minho-ssi.”

“Changbinnie-hyung?”

“Changbin-ssi,” you reply dutifully.

“You guys are the same age! It doesn’t make sense!” he groans.

“I don’t know what you’re expecting,” you say, amused. “I talk to all of you the same.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re hopeless.” He shakes his head dramatically. “You’re soulmates with Channie-hyung! That means you’re basically family to all of us. Listen, at work? Sure, fine, you can be all polite and formal, I get it. But in the dorms?”

“Jisu-”

“Here, the guys are coming over for dinner tonight. Please please please, can you call Minho-hyung oppa to his face?”

“What? No!” you say immediately.

“Pleaseee,” he draws out the word playfully. He shuffles closer and takes your hands in his, pouting exaggeratedly. “Just once! I just want to see his reaction! I know that all of us have told you at one point to speak to us comfortably. He wouldn’t get mad at you, I promise!”

“I’m not going to do it,” you laugh, trying to disentangle your hands.

“You can tell him that I forced you to! I’ll volunteer to clean the dishes after dinner! I’ll be better about cleaning the bathroom! I’ll buy you bubble tea for a week! I’ll buy you new shoes! I’ll stop changing my mind a million times when we’re trying to decide what to order during schedules! I'll write you a song! Please please please, Y/n-noona!”

“I-” you falter. Jisung immediately brightens, his mouth curves into a heart-shaped smile. “Fine. Only because you look so cute.”

Jisung cheers, jumping up and punching the air with his fists.

“You’re the best!!”

“I’m going to blame you for it,” you warn.

“Of course. Even if hyung kills me, it’ll be worth it in the moment.” He beams.

—

At dinner, Jisung sits to your left and every few minutes, he nudges your leg in an attempt to prompt you into speaking. You ignore it, continuing to eat as if nothing is happening. Yes, you agreed to follow along with Jisung’s silly idea, but you still want it to happen naturally, otherwise it would be even more out of place. As much as this is kind of a joke, it is starting to feel a bit strange always using polite speech and you're curious to see how everyone will react.

Opportunity strikes when you stretch to grab one of the side dishes that happen to be in front of Minho. You can't quite reach it sitting, but before you can stand, Minho picks up one of the serving utensils and picks out the best piece, placing it into your bowl. He serves himself next, but you know it's just to play off his kind gesture. You're genuinely grateful for his thoughtfulness.

“Thank you, Minho-oppa,” you say, making sure to keep your voice casual.

Everyone freezes. Minho is good at maintaining his nonchalant expression, but his ears betray him by slowly turning red. Your cheeks are flushed to match and even without looking, you can tell the rest of the boys are stunned. It takes a great effort on your part to not turn to glance at Chan, although you can practically feel his gaze burning into the side of your face.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jeongin elbow Hyunjin in the stomach and mouth "Oppa?" in disbelief.

Finally, Minho recovers enough to clear his throat loudly and say, "it's nothing, I was going to get some anyway."

Jisung, on the other hand, is grinning like an idiot.

“Hyung! You should have seen your reaction, I wish I had taken a picture!” He cries out, laughing loudly.

“What reaction?” Minho tries to play it off.

“Hyung, your ears.” Hyunjin tugs on one teasingly, then instantly apologises and cowers when Minho turns to glare at him.

"Call me oppa too, Y/n!" Changbin says excitedly, standing up to serve you from the dish closest to him.

"We're the same age, Changbin-ah, I'm not going to call you oppa," you tease. He just laughs, delighted to be on the receiving end of your more casual speech.

“If Y/n calls Minho-hyung oppa, does that mean she needs to call Chan-hyung ajhussi?” Seungmin pipes up. Across the table, Hyunjin dissolves into laughter at the thought.

—

Chan doesn’t mention it all evening, even though the boys continue to tease Minho, calling him ‘oppa’ instead of ‘hyung’ when they address him and taking every opportunity to call Chan ‘ajhussi’. They’ve both given out countless headlocks in revenge, but it’s all in good humour. Eventually, Minho, Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin head home, and the rest of the boys drift off into their own rooms.

After washing up, you join Chan in his room, not wanting to hog the bathroom for any longer than required. He’s already set to sleep and had been sitting in bed scrolling on his phone until you had walked in. Through the reflection of the little mirror that you’re using to do your skincare routine, you can see that he’s watching you.

“You know,” he says steadily. “You can- you can call me that too, if you want.” You pause at the carefully worded request. You make eye contact with him through the mirror and watch as the tips of his ears and the tops of his cheeks slowly pinkens.

“Call you what?” you ask, deliberately playing oblivious.

“You know,” he flounders.

“Do I?" you wonder, tapping a finger to your lips teasingly.

“I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t feel comfortable, I just thought that if you were going to talk to the boys more casually then you can do the same. You’re my soulmate, things don’t have to be so formal all the time.  I don’t want to force you to do anything, but I wouldn’t mind, at all! I know Jisung probably was the one to get you to say that to Minho and it was really funny to see his reaction. Uhm. I mean, you can really call me anything that you want! Chan-ssi. Chan-oppa. Chan-ah, actually no that’s kind of weird maybe not that one. Uh if it makes it less weird you can use my English name too! Chris, Christopher, whatever,” he trails off, then buries his face in his hands with a groan. “Sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

You're finished your skincare routine so you put away all the containers and turn in your seat so that you're fully facing him. You take a second to collect yourself, then pitch your voice so it's small and cutesy, a far cry from how you normally talk.

"Oppa," you test. His eyes immediately shoot up to meet yours, cheeks darkening more than they had before. "Do you want me to call you Channie-oppa?" You tilt your head to one side and widen your eyes.

"Argh.” This time, he turns to smash his face in his pillow to hide himself, pulling the blanket over his head for good measure.

"Channie-oppa, why are you hiding? I thought this is what you wanted." You lightly tug at the blanket, but he holds it tight, shaking his head vigorously. You've never been the type to perform aegyo, but it's surprisingly fun and you can't deny that you're enjoying Chan's reaction. After another minute, he pokes his head out looking a bit sheepish.

“You are really cute when you say that,” he admits. “And I really like to hear that you feel comfortable using banmal with us.”

“I am comfortable with everyone, I have been for a while,” you say. “And you’re also really cute when I call you oppa.”

His eyes crinkle as he smiles and you take the opportunity to lean forward and poke one of the dimples that appear. In retaliation, he grips the corners of the blanket and collects you in his arms, effectively swallowing you in the mess of fabric. He pulls you so that you lose balance and fall onto the bed, cradled in his arms. You feel so safe in his embrace and the both of you momentarily fall silent.

“Okay, I think we should sleep now,” Chan says eventually. “Good night, Y/n.”

“Good night… Channie-Oppa,” you respond.

Even though you can’t see Chan in the dark, you know that he’s smiling. It’s enough that you drift off to sleep with a smile as well.

tenderness masterlist | read it on ao3

[kitthepurplepotato]

Chapter 12 - Shopping date

Summary: Katsuki and Y/N goes furniture shopping. Y/N gets a bit overwhelmed.

Warnings: Swear words, Katsuki makes a comment about his balls, almost NSFW at the end but there is a warning before it and it’s skippable!

First Chapter Master List

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“Let’s… do something… together.” Katsuki mumbles while he enjoys his black coffee on the couch.

Well, seeing the stage of this bloody apartment after your fight, you kinda feel like this shouldn’t be a priority right now, but okay.

“I thought we are going shopping today?” You mumble back, still half asleep. Bro, it will be an absolute pain in the ass to get used to the early mornings again after this week. Katsuki is quite an early riser but thanks to your amazing talent in cuddling even he managed to stay in bed at least until 8 every day.

“They have food in the furniture store. There is also a park next to it with a pond. Koi fishes. And shit.” He mutters under his nose with red cheeks and ears. You make the most annoying sound in the whole world as the realization hits you.

“Are you trying to ask me on a date, Kats?” You wheeze. Your belly hurts. Oh damn, your boyfriend is the cutest fucking thing in the whole world.

Katsuki does not like to be ridiculed so needless to say you barely manage to dodge the explosion that comes towards you.

“You know what? Fuck you. Just fuck you.” He’s about to leave the sofa but you quickly tackle him.

“I want to go on a date with you.” You leave a tiny kiss on the grumpy blond’s lips. He only pouts at that and it’s absolutely fucking adorable. “Then I want to kiss you by your door and… well… maybe continue doing that for the rest of the night.”

You absolutely love how Katsuki becomes a putty under you. The tension leaves his body, his frown disappears, his murderous intentions long forgotten as he looks up at you in a silent plead to continue. It’s still early so Katsuki is still pliant; you wouldn’t be able to get away with this in the afternoon.

“Stop talking bullshit, you have a doctors appointment early in the morning tomorrow. I don’t want you to arrive all banged up thanks to me.” The blond smirks but his hand is soft and careful as he tugs a stray lock of hair behind your ears.

“Is that why you are restraining yourself all the time?” You leave kisses all over the his neck, absolutely loving the way he moves into it and makes you space to be able to continue further.

“No comment.” He sighs, his ears even more red than they were a second ago. Your lips slowly trail down to his naked torso, leaving small kisses all over his massive scar on his chest. “Now let me take a cold shower, otherwise we won’t make it to the store.” He retorts, suddenly angry. “And stop fucking teasing me, I’m quite sure my balls are blue at this point.”

Okay. That was… a bit too much information. You shuffle away with a red face. Not like you don’t have the same problem when it comes to the explosive blonde. The last few days were pure torture.

“Roger that.” You mumble as you make your way to your room to put on some decent clothing while you take a few deep breaths to not follow your hot ass boyfriend into the shower.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Katsuki is a fucking snob.

“I ain’t gonna get that no name shit!”

“I look at it and it’s already falling apart, fuck that. Where’s the branded stuff? … Oi, part-timer, where is the good stuff? Is this all you’ve got?”

You really want to explode his grumpy face right now.

“Katsuki, you can’t speak to him like that!” You retort but the sales adviser jumps into your words.

“Dynamight, sir, it’s a pleasure to have you here! Let me show you around!”

Oh, the guy has a little dynamight pin on his lanyard. That’s fucking sweet.

You guys end up in a secluded area full of fancy furniture; and by fancy, you mean FANCY. There are way too many zeroes on the price tags.

“These are made of high-end materials, super sturdy yet stunning! Those ones at the back are also fireproof. The golden lining is made out of actual 24K gold.” The boy is so proud of himself, it’s absolutely adorable.

“Katsuki…” You try to speak up but he’s not listening. Well, this is a shitty date.

“What about that black and magenta one at the back, the one this woman keeps staring at?” Katsuki asks the guy, who perks up at that; he’s probably thrilled to be able to spend more time with the hero.

You can’t believe Katsuki actually payed enough attention to you to see that you’ve found something you really like. You swear he didn’t even look your way for the last ten minutes.

“That one was made by Creati! It’s limited edition. Sadly, we don’t have a book shelf in that design, only that one dresser.”

That dresser is absolutely gorgeous. It looks all black from far away but when you get closer you can see some thin metallic dark pink lines on it, which makes it look like something out of a video game.

“I’ll take that. And the bookshelves with the golden lines.” Katsuki mutters and is about to make his way to the cash point but you stop him in his tracks.

“Katsuki, I don’t need that dresser. I have enough furniture at home.”

Katsuki looks at you like you are the stupidest fucking bitch the world has ever seen and maybe you are but…

“What?”

“Where the fuck do you think you’ll keep your stuff at my place?”

“In my bag?” You ask incredulously. The guy is staring at you two like he’s seen a ghost. Ahh, the public doesn’t know about you two so he’s probably trying his best to decipher what’s going on between you two.

“Yeah, of course just keep a fucking suitcase ready every day. Whatever…” Katsuki scoffs and you swear there is a glint of hurt in his eyes. You really want to hug him. Oh fuck, you really-really want to hug him. You swear he looks like he’s about to cry.

“No, let’s get it.” You mumble with a red face. “I’ll leave the stuff I have with me at yours then. You are right, it’s easier that way, sorry for being dumb.”

Okay, look.

You are not the type to lie to someone for their own sake, but… Katsuki looked so heartbroken you just couldn’t tell him you think it’s a bit too soon for this. Plus, it’s not technically a lie, you do think it’s a smart thing to do and you do plan to stay with him for as long as he lets you so eventually, that dresser will indeed be filled to the brim with your stuff. It’s just a bit too soon. But that’s fine. You’ll freak out about it later.

Apparently, you are not the only one freaking out; the boy with the Dynamight pin flicks his eyes between you two with a constipated face, probably trying his best not to ask all the hundred questions he has all at once. Katsuki looks at the poor boy and sighs dramatically.

“Yes, that’s my woman. Don’t go running your mouth to your buddies about it, I don’t want her face to be plastered all over the the news yet. She’s not just my woman, she’s the number one hero of her country and I want people to know her for her talent and not as the chick by Dynamight’s side. She’s fucking cool and shit. She kicked my ass in a spar before. She could probably break fucking Deku in half. No one can fuck with my woman.”

Is… Katsuki boasting about you right now? Did he actually think about this before you two got together? Oh my god, that’s so thoughtful of him! You have no idea what to say and how to react to this. You kinda want to tackle him on the nearest bed as a thank you, to be absolutely honest.

“You really love her, don’t you.” The boy gawks at the blond, bamboozled.

“Of course I fucking love her.” Katsuki looks back incredulously; he doesn’t understand the whole conversation. “What, am I not allowed to have a partner, or what?” Katsuki yells, but the boy doesn’t waver; he’s clearly used the hero’s outbursts thanks to the countless amount of interviews available on YouTube, so he doesn’t take offense at all.

“No, it’s quite the opposite, Dynamight-san.” He says confidently. “I always admired you but… I thought your view of life is a little bit sad so I was hoping you’ll find someone who’ll change your mind. I admire you even more now. I’m glad you don’t see love as a weakness anymore. I’m just happy to call you my favorite hero, that’s all.” The boy smiles with tears in his eyes. Katsuki has a slight blush on his face, clearly taken aback by all the feelings thrown in his face.

“You wanna have that lanyard signed, fanboy?” He mutters to the boy who yells “YES!” Really loudly and runs over to the till area for a sharpie. Katsuki rolls his eyes with a tiny smile on his face as he signs the lanyard for him and you two make your way to the till point to pay for all your stuff; or at least that’s what you thought the plan was but Katsuki ushers you towards the pet area.

“Oi, fanboy, do you have a big ass bird house in there?”

“A… bird house?”

“Yeah, for my stupid ass pigeon, Steven.” Katsuki yells back, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“Dynamight has a pretty girlfriend and a pigeon called Steven. Okay.” He mutters under his nose, clearly traumatized by all the new information.

“Yo, I will force you to sign an NDA if you don’t stop muttering!” Katsuki reprimands.

Ahh, shopping with Katsuki is really tiring but it’s also really fun.

~•💥•~

After a few hours, you stand in front of your new, fancy dresser. That’s all you do. You stand in front of it and stare at it like it has personally offended your mother. To be absolutely honest, you are not ready to actually fill it up with your clothing and make it officially yours.

There are so many thoughts swirling in your head right now; first of all, you still haven’t said thank you for Katsuki being considerate about your future as a hero by keeping your relationship quiet. You genuinely thought Katsuki just hated talking about his personal life and that’s why he haven’t made a single comment about not being single to the media or to anyone at the office. It was actually bothering you a bit, how he ignored you completely every time there was someone around.

You are really thankful for never making a comment about it, because there is a high possibility Katsuki would have just gotten into an argument with you instead of telling you the truth. He might have changed a lot in the last few months but his pride is still in the way when he needs to speak up about his feelings.

Well, he’s not perfect but you wouldn’t have him any other way.

“Will you put your shit in that or will you just keep staring at it for the rest of the night?” Katsuki urges but it’s too much too soon; you move away from the dresser to get yourself another coffee you definitely don’t need. “What the fuck?” Katsuki mutters but he leaves you to it… your heart thrashes in your chest for no reason, somehow overwhelmed by all the sudden changes. It’s so fucking stupid, really; you love him and he loves you, you both wanted this to be serious yet here you are, loosing your shit over a fucking dresser. The funniest thing is that you are actually overjoyed by how serious Katsuki is about you two; Katsuki stands by his words and wants this to be serious, he wants you here, in his space, he wants a constant reminder that you are his, even when you aren’t around and that makes you feel so-so giddy and loved… fuck, yes, it’s too soon and it’s so much to take in but you genuinely want the same things as him and now you just made him think you are not on the same wavelength and the fact that he didn’t even come out to see you means he took it to his fucking heart.

Oh fuck…

“Katsuki!” You barge back in into the bedroom after a few minutes just to see him lying in a fetal pose, hidden under the covers like a burrito that was dropped on the floor and got folded by the impact. Your stuff that was splayed out on the bed, ready to be sorted and put into the dresser is back in your bag, neatly folded. Your stomach churns from the sight. “Oh, baby…” You jump on the top of him; now that you are able to look at his face, it looks wet.

“Stop with the fucking pity. Fuck you.” The blond sniffs and hides his face into his pillow. He’s so fucking adorable.

“Katsuki, I love you so fucking much.” You admit sheepishly. “If you think I don’t want this, then you are stupid and don’t tell me that’s not what you are thinking right now because I know you. You are probably spiraling, thinking that I don’t want to fill that dresser because I don’t want you in my life but that’s bullshit.” You mumble into his ears, but Katsuki only tenses at that. “I just got a bit overwhelmed. I’ve never been in a serious relationship before and this is all new and exciting but sometimes all this new stuff just suffocates me but I only needed a few minutes to myself to realize how much I want to be with you and how lucky I am to be able to fill that dresser right now, knowing that I can come back to you any time and I’ll have everything, right there, I’m my second home. Thank you.” You leave a kiss on the blond’s cheek. Katsuki moves his face albeit reluctantly in a silent plea for an actual kiss and you are more than happy to oblige.

Warning: it gets suggestive here. Feel free to skip this last bit, it’s not important! 18+

“Call me baby one more time and I’ll kill you.” Katsuki mutters between two chaste kisses, and you can barely conceal your shit-eating grin.

“Baby.” You whisper into his ear and if the tremble of his body isn’t enough of a sign that he secretly loves it, the barely audible whimper is. “Baby, I love you.”

“Fuck.” Katsuki grumbles as he deepens the kiss, rolling to his back so you can straddle him. “I really hate it. So much. Fuck’s sake, Y/N.” He mutters but the tiny roll of his hips says it otherwise.

Damn, it got really hot in here. Oh, it’s just your ovaries that are on fire, no worries.

“Uhm, we should probably finish packing and go to sleep, my appointment is at 6AM.” You mumble, incapable of leaving your boyfriend’s mouth alone.

“Uhum.” That’s all you get as an answer, topped up with another hip-roll which makes you moan out loud this time. “Fuck’s sake, get off me before I do something stupid.” Katsuki pushes you out of the bed but you manage to manifest a levitation quirk just before your ass hits the floor. “Nice save.” Katsuki laughs, clearly happy that you are able to take a little bit of roughness.

“Anything for your amusement.” You wink at the hero whose mind certainly goes to the other things you might be capable of doing with a quirk. Cheeky.

“Shut up.”

… next chapter!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Potato ramble:

- Yes, Katsuki got so excited about that bloody dresser that he completely forgot about the food and the park. Bad Katsuki. I’m surprised he didn’t forget about his own bookshelf to be honest. 😂😂😂😂

- So I was today years old when I realized that there is a difference between blonde and blond. So I’m really sorry for using the wrong one this whole time. You should’ve told me though! 😂

- There might be a bigger delay with the next chapter as my rota for next week is absolute fucked up + I have plans on my day offs as well but I’ll do my best.

- Also! The next chapter will probably end with NSFW but I think I’ll post it in a separate post and leave a link for it by the end of the SFW chapter. So if the chapter feels short it will be because some it is NSFW. Sorry about that and I hope this works for everyone who’s uncomfortable with that kind of content.

- I hope you guys are having a great day! I got a care package from home; my mom sent me my favorite handmade cookies and I’m so happy I could cry. Also got a training Katsuki funko 😭 I’m blessed.

TL:

@sixxze @iwannahaveaprettyaesthetic @hanatsuki-hime @cloroxisadelectabletreat @cheesenmax @coffeent @smolsleepybat @therealpotatobish @qardasngan @canarystwin @unofficialmuilover @nanamomo1 @mikestuffffs @p4ndawrites @yao-ai @porusuniverse

[bengiyo]

Century of Love Ep 2 Stray Thoughts

Yesterday, we got off to a fantastic start with this show. San is a 120+ year old man whose body hasn’t aged in a century because of a curse that will allow him to reunite with his reincarnated dead love. He has about two months left to find his love before he turns to dust in excruciating agony. He’s been cared for by multiple generations of a family for the last century, and finally found his love. Unfortunately for him, she reincarnated as one of the most beautiful boys ever created, and San has to sort through some of his own drama. San hasn’t known another’s touch in quite a long time, and all he’s felt for a century is excruciating pain at night when the curse forces him to feel every injury he’s ever healed from. We left at San having an erotic dream about Vee.

Not the curse behaving like a chastity belt for a 100 years until he found Vee!!!

I’m so glad Vee’s grandmother didn’t die. I was already getting sad.

I hope this show keeps up the meditation on death and grief since its protagonist is an undead.

Well well well. Our boy Vee is happily bisexual and not one to swoon at a pretty face. I love him. It’s so funny that we ended the last episode on San’s fantasy about Vee instinctively knowing him in comparison.

A pratfall kiss! Where is the Love Stage!! face bleeding scene?

I do like that the people around San tease him about being an old man.

Uh oh. Family problems.

Amazing. Vee is also possibly committing crimes.

Wait, why does he have to turn into a child to regenerate, and when will Offroad interact with this child?

WOW, IMMEDIATELY! THANK YOU, SHOW!

Incredible acting. He carefully sets the child actor down before they use an editing trick for him to kick this child in the chest.

I love the way this young actor is playing San. Good job, everyone.

I appreciate this show taking San’s shirt off in every episode.

Let me tell you a story, “Once upon a time, deep, deep in the jungle, there was the little engine that could…”

I love Vee so much. San is gonna get mad about this, but I’m totally with Vee about life being about the future and not the past. I hope that Vee never remembers anything of Vad’s life.

Who is this guy, and why did he want some of San’s blood? Is he connected to that Lord Trai guy from before? Who is this with the phone??

Listen, nephew, I do not trust you or your information.

They put hands on the family! It’s over for them!!!

Oh, nephew definitely involved in whoever is trying to take the stone.

Well, that confrontation with Vee didn’t go well for San, but he looked good in that outfit. I like that Vee feels like a full person who has had enough with being nice to a rude person.

Who is this old timer who knows about the stone?

This preview makes it feel like it’s going to be a month before San and Vee interact again.

This show has everything. Fantasy, action, comedy, drama, tragedy, child actors getting kicked in the chest, and people even get stabbed with their own knives! I like that Vee isn’t a pushover and is also willing to fight, and I really hope we get to see San and Vee fight together at some point. This was a really fun opening week for this show, and I will be seated for the rest of it. I hope the family continues to give San shit the entire time.

[callmelittlebuttercup]

Peace Offerings Pt. 16

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Chapter Summary: As they make their way back to Jackson, the Reader and Joel make a discovery that sparks a desperate hope in Reader and causes them to stray from their original plans to return to their haven.

Chapter Warnings: pitfall trap, claustrophobia, blood, mentions of stab wounds. (A pretty tame chapter ;))

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part Sixteen

It wasn’t without pain or sorrow, but Joel and I were making good time on our travels back to Jackson. He’d stopped trying to fill the empty space with distracting dialogue, but he showed he cared in other ways. Since he understood why I could no longer stomach it, he took the jerky for himself and harvested berries and roots for me to fill up on, along with the bread Tommy had snuck us. He handed me our shared canteen every once in a while, making sure I was hydrated, and other small things like that. One thing I appreciated more than anything was that he never asked me how I was doing. I hated that question even before tragedy struck. No one wanted to hear the real answer and always expected you to say “good how are you?” I obviously wasn’t good, so Joel knew there was no point.

I was walking inatentively behind Joel when my foot kicked something hard and a melodic sound rang out. I looked down to see a blue, metal canteen at my feet. My stomach squeezed when I realized how familiar it was. I dropped down to pick it up and turned it around in my hands. The lump in my throat grew larger when I read the name scribbled onto it. 

Matthew Doe

My hands quivered as I stared at the memorabilia, questioning if it was real. Joel had noticed I wasn’t behind him by now and was standing there, trying to be as patient as possible. “What’s that?” he ased as he made his way towards me. “It’s…” I gulped and held the bottle up to him, “It’s Matthew’s canteen.” 

His face dropped as his eyes wandered over the sloppily written signature. “It was his from scouts in high school. Must’ve kept it.” I observed. Joel’s face was now twisted into a puzzled look. “What?” I questioned. He stared at the bottle, looked around us, and then took the map Tommy had given him out of his backpack. “We’re taking an obscure route back. Definitely not one that the watch would take out this way. It’s strange that we’d find his stuff out here if he was… if he died back there.” He thought aloud. “What are you saying?” I asked as a hopeful feeling bubbled through my chest. He breathed deeply and pressed his lips together. Definitely deciding whether to tell me this information or not. “Joel,” I pushed, standing up and grabbing the his hands which were still wrapped around the canteen. He took another breath, “I don’t think he really died at David’s.” My hands were still ontop of his and they tightened around them with anticipation. “So you’re saying…” I began to speak, but he cut me off, “I’m not saying he’s alive, but I think he at least managed to escape.” I stepped away, suddenly feeling a second wind of hope. “I have to find him.” I breathed. My name left Joel’s mouth cautiously, “Let’s be realistic.” I turned to him, “Joel, he could still be alive. I have to find him.” I said again as I began to desperately search for footsteps in the snow. “If you won’t go, I’ll go by myself.” I demanded. He sighed and didn’t answer me for a moment. I gave up and continued to search, pretending not to care whether or not he followed me. “We can look for him if you promise to not get your hopes up. I can’t see you like that again.” Joel blurted from behind me. My eyes met his pitiful ones and I nodded, “I promise. Come on.” 

I was lying. I most definitely had my hopes up. The possibility of Matthew still being alive was the one thing I needed to keep going. Of course it would destroy me all over again to find out he really was dead, but I would be a fool to not take the chance that he could be out there somewhere. 

About 20 feet away, footsteps began to appear in the snow. They manifested in patches of untouched snow. It was like puting together a puzzle piece, but the line of prints was somewhat straight. “Seems like he knew where he was going.” I said aloud as I kept my head trained towards the ground. “That’s because there were two people.” Joel said, pointing out the fact that there were a total four footprints next to each other in each track. “So others in his group survived?” I asked. “Maybe.” Joel shrugged. I felt a smile creep its way to my lips, but I couldn’t let Joel see my optimism and swallowed it down. 

After 30 minutes of following tracks, I felt Joel’s hand wrap around my arm and yank me back forcefully. I glared at him, but he pointed to a barely visible piece of string pulled tought between two trees. “Tripwire.” He grunted, “We’re in someone’s territory. Stay behind me from now on.” I nodded and followed his demand, never letting a distance larger than three feet come between us. 

Joel kept his eyes forward and I kept mine on the ground, looking for tracks along with any more booby traps. The coast was clear until Joel stopped in his tracks, causing me to slam into the back of him. He reached a hand around to steady me. His response being on the opposite end of the spectrum from when we first started our journey. There was no gruff “Watch where you’re going.” No scowl of disapproval. Just a gentle, protective hand curling around my waist. My hands clung to his back at the first sign of trouble and I reluctantly removed them from his warm, muscular form. “What is it?” I asked as I peeked around him. “S’a pitfall trap.” He informed me. The tone of his voice was low. It usually dipped further into the bass clef when he was concerned. “Don’t think these people are gonna be very friendly. You sure you want to get involved here?” His stare was intense as he questioned me. I swallowed hard and nodded, “We’ve gotten through worse before, I’m sure.” He cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrows before turning around and cautiously feeling out each step to make his way around the trap. I followed behind him, though not as close as before. 

Clearly not close enough. After my next step the ground gave out from under me and I tumbled down into the pit, landing hard on my back. The impact knocked the breath from my lungs and I gasped desperately for air as I sat up on my elbows. Joel immediately leaned over the edge, sheer panic spread across his face as his arm was stretched out towards me. “Shit. Grab on, quick!” He urged. The world felt like it was spinning as I peeled myself off of the ground. I used the wall to keep me upright as I moved to where his hand was outstretched. I reached up as high as I could, even stood on my toes and tried to climb the wall a bit, but the distance between us was still too wide. I heard Joel curse under his breath before standing up and turning to walk away. “Are you going to leave me here?” I asked shrinkedly. “No, I’m not going to leave you here. I’m going to find something for you to grab onto.”  He said it like I was stupid. I sighed and slapped my hands over my face. He was angry at me again. Unlike just minutes ago, we were moving backwards.

Suddenly, I heard a gun cocking and I moved to press myself against the wall and as out of sight as possible. My first instinct was to call for Joel, but I didn’t want to make noise on the small chance that I hadn’t been discovered yet. I was wrong. I stared up at the wide opening of the hole and made eye contact with what looked to be a 10 year old kid. “H-hi.” I said cautiously. “Lucy, get over here.” Another voice called out. It was a man’s. “But daddy, there’s a lady!” She called out. I stood there awkwardly, trying to look as unthreatening as possible. I could only imagine that Joel was looking the opposite. “Yes, honey but there’s a man right here with a gun pointed at us. Stay still.” He said in a soft, informative voice. I heard the safety of the gun being clicked back on and the man breathed, “Thank you.”  My throat tightened when I realized why Joel had put the gun down. It was a little girl.

“I’m John, and this is my daughter, Lucy. I’m unarmed and pose very little threat to you so I appreciate the fact that your gun is pointed at the ground right now.” Joel had no response to the man’s spiel except for a gruff, “Get her out of there.” I rolled my eyes at his lack of manners during this negotiation. “I will, sir, as soon as you drop your weapon and step away from it.” There was a long, silent pause before I heard a muted thump and the sound of Joel’s boots crunching in the snow. The top of his head disappeared from view as he stepped away. I hadn’t realized how much comfort the mere sight of him brought me until it was gone. Once close to frostbite, my palms became slick with sweat. 

After what seemed like the longest minute of my life, a rope ladder dropped down in front of me and I wasted no time scrambling up it. When I reached the last rung, Joel grabbed onto my arm and hoisted me up the rest of the way. “Thank you.” I breathed as I studied my captors. 

 The man was younger than Joel but older than me. No older than 45. He had light brown hair and brown eyes, unlike his daughter who donned blonde curls and crystal blue eyes. She was staring at me with the brightest smile I’d seen in years. “Hi, Lucy.” I said politely. “Hi.” She said excitedly and asked, “What’s your name?” I told her my name, much to Joel’s dismay, but he stood there with a glimmer in his eye as he watched the little girl and I’s exchange. 

“So uh, I assume you guys will be on your way now.” The man said awkwardly. He was desperately trying to seem tough, but his softer side was unmistakable. “Actually,” I blurted before Joel could speak, “We’re looking for someone.” The man’s eyebrows raised. “You are?” He asked. “We have a man! He’s tall and has hair like mine and he’s pretty like you!” The little girl squealed. “Lucy,” her dad reprimanded gently before turning back to Joel and I, “We did have a man stumble onto our property a couple of days ago. He was in real bad shape, had a gash from a cleaver in his chest. Would that be him?” Lucy chimed in again, “He sleeps a lot.” Her dad shot her another look, but gave up on trying to get her to quiet down. 

I almost broke down in tears right then and there. There was no mistaking that it was Matthew. The words weren’t able to leave my mouth so I helplessly looked to Joel who nodded and said, “That might be him.” I swallowed and breathed, “Can we see him?” The man pressed his lips together and thought for a moment before answering.“I guess I can’t say no, can I?” He chuckled awkwardly as his eye shifted between Joel and I.  I stared at him with a blank face that said “No, you cannot.”  He understood my expression. “Well, you two seem like nice people, but before we head back I’m going to need you to hand over all of your weapons. You’ll get ‘em back when you leave. I promise.” My eyes shifted to Joel knowing he’d absolutely hate this idea. 

His eyes flashed with worry, but they softened when they shifted between the girl and I. “Alright.” He sighed as he dropped to the ground to rummage through his bag. I stood there alongside Lucy and watched him pile guns and knives onto the ground. I, too, wondered where he’d gotten all of that from because we most definitely did not leave Jackson that heavyhanded. 

Once the man was in possession of (supposedly) all of Joel and I’s weapons, he began to lead us back to the house. “It’s about a mile through the woods here, and then there’s a small pathway to the house. There are still traps so keep your eyes and ears peeled for my warnings.” The man explained as if he was a tour guide. 

Joel and I had fallen behind the man and his daughter a bit. “You okay? That was a hard fall.” He whispered. “Yeah, surprisingly. Just a little sore.” I croaked. He nodded and looked ahead again. “Joel?” I said, reaching for his hand, “Thank you for doing this.” He wrapped his fingers around my palm and squeezed a bit, “‘Course.” By the way he was looking at me, I swore he was about to lean down and kiss me, but our heads were both jolted ahead by Lucy’s tiny, yet loud voice. “Are you guys married? My mommy and daddy are married and that means they can have babies. They only had one baby and it’s me!.” I almost giggled at her innocence, but the awkwardness of her question turned my cheeks red. I didn’t know what Joel and I were, but we were most certainly not married. “Lucy, that is none of your business. Keep on ahead now, honey.” Her dad said as he shot us an apologetic look. I smiled at him and Joel remained expressionless. The rest of the walk to the house was silent as Lucy became occupied with questioning her dad up ahead. 

My hand was still latched onto Joel’s and it squeezed with anticipation as we started up the stone path to the house. My feet dug further into the ground as we reached the stairs. My anticipation quickly turned to anxiety as I realized I was either getting close to devastation or a miracle. Joel noticed my slowing of pace and squeezed my hand again. “S’okay. I’ve got you.” He whispered. I followed him up the steps and stepped across the threshold of the house. “Honey?” The man called, “We’ve, uh- We’ve got visitors.” A beautiful blonde hair, blue eyed woman shuffled out of the kitchen with a concerned look on her face. Her eyes met Joel’s first and then quickly jotted to mine. She smiled, “Hello.” I smiled and nodded, my throat was too swollen to speak. “They think the man in the back room may be her brother.” John explained. Her face fell and she nodded slightly, “Oh. Okay. He’s sleeping now, but I’m sure you’d still like to see him, right?” She asked me. I nodded again. She held out her hand and I replaced mine from Joel’s to hers. 

The hallway she led me down seemed to feel twice as long due to my anxiousness. She finally stopped infront of a wooden door and knocked lightly. There was no response. Her hand wrapped around the doorknob and cracked it open a bit before gazing in. I tried to peek in over her head but nearly fell when the door opened all of the way. The skinny, gray man laying in the bed slowly moved his head towards the door, his eyes squinting from the light. I could barely see him through my welling eyes, but I knew it was Matthew. I rushed to kneel next to his bed and avoided touching him in case of any injuries. “Matthew.” I breathed. His eyebrows twisted in confusion, “Sis?” He choked. I nodded. “Holy shit,” He reached over and wrapped his arms around me the best that he could, “You found me.” I laid my head onto his chest and breathed deeply for a moment. “I thought you were…” I couldn’t say it, but he cut me off anyway, “I almost was, if it hadn’t been for these folks.” I turned to the woman who was standing in the doorway. “Thank you for saving him.” I sobbed. She nodded and smiled before disappearing back into the hallway.  “How the hell did you find me?” He asked in awe. “Well, they sent a group of us out after you’d been missing for a while. There were two raider attacks and then long story short, I met David.” I explained. His face dropped and his eyes darkened at the mention of the evil man. “He didn’t-” He began to ask, but I shook my head, “No, he’s taken care of now.” He nodded and his chest fell as he let out a breath, “You did that all by yourself, sis? Badass.” He said before coughing a little. He was still incredibly weak. “Not necessarily…” I said quietly, “There was a group of us too. I mean, yes, I killed David by myself because we all got separated for a bit. It’s just Joel and I now.” I saw his jaw clench ever so slightly. Despite our many conversations, I could still sense Matthew’s disapproval of Joel and I’s… situation. “The same thing happened to us.” He said quietly. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” I breathed, changing the subject quickly. “I’m getting there.” He said before peeling off the blankets to reveal a blood-soaked bandage stretching across his chest. My stomach folded in half as I eyed it, and he quickly covered it again with the blankets. “I’ll be okay, sis. I promise.” He said as he cupped my now ghost white cheek into his cold hand. I nodded. “I’m glad you’re okay too.” He whispered. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Masterlist

Taglist:

@demonsasss @ashleyfilm @ayamenimthiriel @scarlet-daisy @jellybeanxc @briyannaholt @hujickova @morgaussy @vivian-pascal

Next Chapter

[starlightshadowsworld]

Agency informant Izaya

I don't want to bring up the characters of Durarara because they don't really play apart in this.

Despite all the events taking place, this shit happens in the mysterious time and land of post canon.

It's very much a Izaya in the world of Bungou Stray Dogs AU.

However I felt like I should mention what happened when he left.

So the final fight with Shizuo and Izaya happened. And practically everyone thinks Izaya is dead.

There's a great deal of scepticism, and for good reason it is Izaya Orihara after all.

There are 5 people who all know for certainty that he's still alive, other than those that saved him.

Shinra, Shizuo, Mairu, Kururi and Simon.

Shinra and Shizuo just have a gut feeling. They know him well enough to be able to survive just about anything. That and a body was never found.

Shinra, to himself hopes that wherever Izaya is he's happy. He knows more than anyone how human his old friend is.

Mairu and Kururi know because Izaya has always taken care of the house bills, phone bills and anything else they needed money for.

And those payments never stopped. Could just be some auto thing, but now every month they get a certain amount of money.

Every birthday, every time there's a Yuuhei Hanejima meet and greet there's the exact amount + travel fair in their bank accounts.

It's always anonymous but they know who it's from.

Simon knows.... Because it's Simon and Simon knows everything.

Somehow when Izaya was recovering in hospital, one of the nurses handed him a box with his name on it.

And inside was some Fatty Tuna.

Thing is they all know Izaya is never coming back. Again, it's mostly a gut feeling at first.

But than all the information on Izaya Orihara vanishes over night. If you search his name you will find nothing.

Any information the Dollars or other gangs have on him, purged from their systems.

The Awakusu have only their payments and emails between Izaya on record as the only proof they did that they ever did business with him.

His phone number is no longer in use. Kanra leaves the chat room, and the account is deleted. As does every other account ran by Izaya.

It's like Izaya never existed.

He's burned his essence from the city, only remembered in the stories and memories of those around him.

It's poetic in a sense.

And Izaya will never return, because along with the PTSD from his final fight, there's nothing left for him in Ikebukuro.

He's with the Agency, he's happy and more alive than ever. Trying to change, to be better.

And to truly atone, he will leave Ikebukuro in the dust. Erase himself from it's streets and let it move on peace.

In a way Izaya did die in that final fight. But he's reborn, he's someone the old him wouldn't recognise and that makes him smile.

"Izaya? Are you coming in?" Asks Atsushi, walking over to him. Izaya looks back, smiling warmly and nods. "Yeah, yeah I'm coming." Atsushi hesitates but Izaya gestures for him to continue.

"Are you okay?"

Izaya nods "I am, just reminiscing I guess. But back to work, right?" Atsushi nods, smiling "yeah, we've got a new case and could really use your help."

Izaya grins, intrigued "lead the way" he follows Atsushi inside, and he doesn't look back.

And he never will.

[evan4ever]

Vegas, baby

Part 9 — part 8 here

Warnings: pregnancy/delivery, NICU, post op, talk of internal bleeding/c section

a/n: please comment/let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list!

—

Evan’s POV

As soon as they had entered the ER doors and y/n was placed in a bed and wheeled away, Evan was directed to a waiting area reassured that someone would come to him with an update soon. He did as he was told, sitting down on a chair against a wall where he sat and thought about what was going on. He hadn’t even had a full 24 hours with you before this happened. You hadn’t even had time to really settle in before things decided to go wrong. How so fast?

His mind wandered through every possibility. He didn’t know much about pregnancy but he knew complications happened. He thought about the stories he read of mother dying during birth. Then he thought about the stories he read about a child being born still. Both thoughts were enough to bring him to tears.

He understood he didn’t know you well and that you both had a long way to go so you could coparent healthily, but he cared about you. It shattered him into pieces to think that anything might take you away from him and your guys’ baby.

And he couldn’t even put into words what thinking about losing his child made him feel. It was a pain like no other.

How could this be happening? Why now? Your pregnancy had been so smooth the last almost 9 months and a day after you move in with him, complications happen? Did he make the wrong choice to suggest you move to him? Was it the flight or the packing and lugging items around? Was it too much on your frail, pregnant body?

He couldn’t help but blame himself.

“Mr. Peters?” Evan’s head snapped up at the sound of his last name. He saw a man in a white coat with dark blue scrubs on standing before him looking between him and the few others in the hallway waiting room, quickly wiping the stray tears and standing to his feet.

“That’s me.” The doctor pressed his lips into a tight smile and nodded his head to follow him, which Evan obliged quickly, desperate for answers.

“Is she alright? Is our baby okay?” He flooded the man with questions before the man stopped after rounding a corner so they were away from eyes and other ears. Evan blinked a few times with furrowed, confused eyebrows while watching the man intensely.

“Mr. Peters-“

“Evan.” He corrected the doctor.

“Evan.” the man nodded, “Evan y/n has suffered from what is called a placental abruption.”

Evan quickly shook his head indicating he wasn’t quite sure what that was, needing more information.

“The cause can be unknown and in this case, we don’t have a positive answer. Many reasons include you know, car accidents or falls, but there’s no reason to believe either happened. Can you confirm?”

“She hasn’t fell or been in any accident. She never mentioned before having one.” He admitted, wondering if you may have before you both got together for the first time in all those months. “Are they okay, sir?”

The doctor only gazed at Evan with an apologetic look causing Evan’s heartbeat to speed up. “She’s been in surgery for some time now. Your child was removed via C-section and is recovering from what’s known as a traumatic birth in the NICU. He’s healthy, Mr. Peters. Your son will be just fine. With the placental abruption comes lack of nutrients and oxygen and in this case it was 2 days of not receiving the essentials he needed from the placenta. But he is okay and will recover quick.”

Evan let out a relieved sigh, his eyes closing as he nods to the doctor appreciatively. However, he realizes that the doctor wasn’t giving him the bad news first.

“And y/n?” His eyes pleaded with worry.

“She has some stray bleeding that we are trying to locate. She’s still under and being operated on. I will come with another update as soon as I get one.” He rested his hand on Evan’s shoulder sincerely as Evan’s head spun over the fact that you had unknown internal bleeding. He was smart enough to know the severity of it and he couldn’t bring himself to ask anymore questions, simply nodding to the doctor who have his shoulder a squeeze before turning to walk back.

“Wait” Evan took a big step to catch up to the doctor, stopping him. “Can I see our son? Am I able to see him?”

The doctor sighed and stood silent for a minute before turning to a nurse standing at the desk and whispering something in her ear. Evan only watched with hope.

“Come with me sir.” The nurse gave Evan a friendly smile motioning him with her hand to follow. Evan looked at the doctor who nodded approvingly and Evan wasted no time in turning to follow the woman down the hallway.

Moments later, Evan was gowned up in the NICU wear and letting the woman show him to his child. His eyes immediately landed on the small child in a NICU crib, and there was no doubt in his mind that that was his baby. And sure enough, she stopped them at his station and turned to him with a smile. Evan glanced at her with a wide smile and bright eyes before looking back down at the baby. They had him in a cute hat and a simple onesie in which allowed the cords to be attached to him comfortably. He was sleeping so peacefully that Evan almost didn’t want to disturb him, but so badly yearned to hold his child.

“You can pick him up,” she encouraged, her own eyes filled with the happiness in seeing Evan in awe, “he’s your baby, Mr. Peters.”

He glanced at her again very quick before looking back at the small being and walking closer, carefully scooping the fragile boy up into his arms. He didn’t even care about the tears that welded in his eyes while he gazed down at his boy, taking in his every small feature. His lips pursed so perfectly, his small hands, his closed eyes and the dark hair that could be seen just barely underneath the hat. He was perfect.

Evan blinked to allow the tears to fall before raising the baby up to his face, feeling his soft skin against his own. It was like electricity through his body, a feeling he’s never had before. This was his baby and it was the most amazing thing in this world.

Evan stayed like this, holding and taking in everything he could about his child. All other thoughts disappeared, just focusing on being in this moment. It hurt to think he’d ever have to put him down, knowing that eventually he’d have to.

It was hours that passed, but only felt like minutes. He was still waiting on news about you, but trusted the doctors and nurses that were helping you to do their job. He knew he was waiting on an update, but didn’t realize the time that had passed without getting one. When finally pulled himself from his gaze on the small child’s face, he looked over at the clock on the wall behind him seeing the time. 3 hours had passed, and suddenly he grasped that it had, in fact, been hours.

He looked around in search of a NICU nurse and managed to wave her over while standing from his seat and laying the boy carefully back down into his crib, watching his only stir a moment before falling back into his comfortable sleep. He stared a moment more before feeling the nurses presence beside him.

“Did you need something sir?” She asked kindly while checking the baby’s monitors.

Evans eyebrows were pressed together tightly while he took a step back and tried to find the right words to ask about you.

“I.. yeah. My uh.. my child’s mother,” he motioned to the baby, “she’s been in surgery for awhile now. I’ve been waiting on an update but haven’t got one. Do you know anything?” He asked in high hopes but her face fell as she shook her head.

“I don’t, unfortunately. I can call someone to come give you an update. What’s her name?” She asked as she made her way back to the nurses station, Evan following closely behind.

“Y/n y/l/n”

She typed in each letter, the sound making his already nervously beating head beat harder as he waited in anticipation. She dialed a number and called and began talking to someone but Evan couldn’t quite make out what was being said. She thanked them a moment later and hung up, glancing at Evan.

“She’s in post op.” The nurse nodded. Evan sighed loudly as he knew that you were at least alive. “Her nurse will be here soon.”

Evan thanked the woman and slowly walked back to his child, peaking over the crib and smiling to himself seeing the boy still sleeping silently. Knowing he was well, he stepped outside of the NICU and paced around while waiting for a nurse, who showed up some minutes later.

“Mr. Peters?” He turned to face the new face and nodded. “Y/n is still under the anesthetic but should be coming to soon. You can follow me so you can wait for her, if you’d like?”

Evan only nodded and followed her back down the hallway he had been through before and turning down a new, much colder hallway. It was uncomfortably cold and made goosebumps rise on his arms. Soon, they turned into a corner room and his eyes instantly landed on your body laying on the bed. You were gowned up and had tubes coming from both IVs in either arm. It was a hard picture to look at, but he found himself approaching your still body, looking over your face that had oxygen tubes around it and your hair laying perfectly around your shoulders on the pillow. Your eyes were closed and the constant beeping of the heart monitor was heard loud and clear.

“She suffered from an internal tear, but after some deep searching, we found it and repaired it. She does need a few blood transfusions but, she should be just fine Mr. Peters.” Evan heard the nurse fill him in and nodded all while his eyes remained on you. This wasn’t how the birth was supposed to go and it made him hurt for you.

“Thank you” he said quietly to the nurse before taking a seat next to your bed, his hands finding yours and holding them tightly. He was insistent on being right there next to you when you woke up, wanting to be the one to assure you that your guys baby was okay and that you were okay too. He wanted you to hear it from him.

This wasn’t something he was used to. He’d only been in a hospital a handful of times, mostly for himself an once for him mother and sister. It was odd and he didn’t like it, nor did he like seeing you in such a state. It made him physically sick to think about all that’s happened so quickly in such a short amount of time, and to think about how different and how bad it could’ve been.

Honestly, it made him uncomfortable. He was a good guy, but he didn’t know how to show emotion all that well or how to be deeply sincere. It felt weird and made him more nervous if that was possible. The feeling of complete vulnerability with someone was pretty rare but right now that’s all he felt. He was a new dad and his child and the mother of his child were in the hospital and it was uncomfortable for him. He hated it. But he vowed then and there to be sincere with you and to be there for you through all of this.

—

Basic POV

Another 45 or so minutes passed, Evan remaining by your side with your hands in his. He was patient of your waking but was desperate for it. He had laid his forehead against the side of the bed, his eyes closed while waiting.

Soon, he felt you stir a bit before your once limp hand took ahold of his. His head instantly lifted and looked at you, your eyes still closed but seeing your head moving from side to side as you finally came to. His eyes were fixed on your closed ones before you opened them, blinking a few times before meeting his. His were wide as he stared with his mouth agape waiting for the words that weren’t coming. You only looked between his eyes, your head spinning and your waist down noticeably numb. You finally groaned lightly as you readjusted yourself the best you could, your hand still gripped tightly between Evan’s. You glanced down at the contact and softened your confused face before looking back up at him. You took notice of his obvious concerned and worried face and quickly felt a sudden tug at your heart when you thought about your child.

“Where is he?” You whispered out as your eyebrows furrowed in your own feeling of concern.

“He’s okay” Evan stated quickly, hoping to calm you a bit, “he’s in the NICU being monitored. He was without nutrients and oxygen for awhile so they’re just observing him for awhile. He’s okay.” When he felt your hand relax in his and your body loosen up in the bed, he let out a small sigh and gazed up at you with a dorky smile. “He’s perfect.”

You could’ve cried at his words, a mixture of feeling like you failed him all while feeling a sense of relief wash over you. But you could only manage a weak smile while your eyes stayed glue to Evan’s.

“Can I see him?” You asked slightly louder this time but still just above a whisper. Evans eyebrows shot up as he stood from his seat nodding.

“Let me get a nurse” he looked around before exiting the room, your eyes watching the door waiting for him to return with a nurse. The minutes seemed to go by slow and you wondered what was going on or taking them so long, but your questions were answered moments later when you saw a crib belong wheeled into your room.

You say hi straight in the hospital bed, throwing the blankets off you eager to go to your baby but a nurse quickly held onto your arms preventing you from attempting to stand. You flared up at her with confusion and annoyance, only wanting to see your child.

“You can’t stand. You just had two major surgeries and you have a nerve block on your spine to help the pain. Lay back down, we’ll bring him to you okay?”

You sucked in a sharp breath realizing again that you can’t feel your legs and hugged silently as you allowed her to help you lay back in bed. She used to remote to sit the bed up so you could sit in a comfortable sitting position and sat the remote next to your for your convenience, but your eyes were only fixated on Evan who was now holding the small boy, Evan smiling down at him while making his way to you.

It was a picture perfect moment, seeing Evan so happy and the small figure of your baby in his arms. It was beautiful. And you could hardly wait to feel him for yourself, a moment later reaching out when Evan carefully extended him towards you. You bundled him up in the blanket more and as soon as your eyes meet his beautiful small face, your heart fluttered. He was ridiculously perfect, nothing you’ve ever seen before. You couldn’t believe the amount of love you suddenly felt now holding what you made and grew all these months. He was finally here.

Evan came next to the bed, taking his previous sets in the chair. You allowed him to wrap one arm around you so he could be closer to you both, his head barely brushing against yours while you both gazed down at your perfect baby. You couldn’t help yourself, letting your head rest against his now and feeling him instantly rest his against yours. It was a comfortable feeling, one you never wanted to end. In this moment, you felt like you had a family, something you’ve never had before. It was everything you could ever want, and you simply couldn’t break yourself from the feeling to let the rational facts come back to play; that this was in fact going to end and soon, you and Evan would be co-parenting.

—

Tags: @demxnicprxncess @quicksilversg1rl @evanpetersfav @kylespencersvocalcords @evanpetersmood @totta69 @ava1262 @1109oo @laynna-mcknight @jjamesstar @yes-divine-ruler @littledreamybeth @bxbyalixo @mraes @prettywhenwedie

[taissaswifelowkey]

Bittersweet Symphony

a/n: the second chapter IS HEREEE this one's been sitting in my drafts since summer vacation. this is relatively slow, i want to try to set the pace and offer a different twist to the actual plot. proofread, not sure where we're going with the release of chapters but we're going!

also "finn" can be any gender you want ;) fionna, finn, or finnegan it's your call 🗣️‼️‼️

w/c: 2.2 k words

warnings: swearing, mentions distress. let me know if i missed anything

it starts below the cut

a/n: thank you for wistfulwatcher for making this gif, they're so adorable

Chapter II: The Reflex

Four days in your three-long week break and you’re on your twentieth episode of Dance Moms. You went out for a jog in the forest to clear your head, fed the neighbourhood stray cats, read a book you bought but never bothered opening and settled for staged reality TV. Anytime you felt like defying Chief Munoz’s orders, you take a long minute to think, rather than just march up to the man’s office in your uniform.

It’s a fate better than…nothing. You still get your checks. And maybe he is right, some time might be good. 

The more you try to convince yourself of that idea, the more it seems to work.

Settling into the couch, letting your eyes drift shut you allow your body to catch up on the sleep you have been lacking, the sounds fading away at the back of your mind.

⟰⟰⟰⟰⟰⟰⟰

“Are you even sure she lives here? This place doesn’t seem like her. It’s too…homey.”

“I have to admit she was a teeny bit harder to find. But this looks like the right place. Besides, the blinds are open and we checked every other corner.”

“...A suburban home with a huge “Welcome Home” mat? I say we’re better off going back to the cabin again. Get some information out of that ranger guy.”

“That’s a great idea but I still think we can fish for information. We know this is the right neighbourhood so whoever lives here might know her, right?”

A buzzing noise keeps resonating in your head putting a brutally quick stop to your rest. Jolting up, clutching your chest and trying to calm your beating heart, you slowly inhale and exhale. It’s a doorbell. Just a doorbell.

Whoever keeps ringing is pretty damn insistent. Is it that Jessica Roberts person? How the hell does she know where you live? Clenching your jaw, You rise from your seat, not even taking the time to fix your appearance. Following you at the grocery store, a damn Trader Joe’s is one thing. But your home? This is stepping into the border of harassment.

Swinging the door almost violently, the words escape your lips.

“Ms Roberts. I couldn’t care less about your job but I have a right to privacy. Either you leave me alone or I swear I’m going to-”

“Good afternoon to you too. Long time no see.”

“Hey, it’s been a while! I brought you some cookies to catch up.”

What the…how…

Your eyes land on a woman with her hands in her pocket, her eyebrows peeking out of her shades and with a subtle smirk on her face. While the other smiles brightly.

“Huh…”

What are they doing here?

“Are you going to let us in, Ranger?”

Natalie asks in what seems to be her trying to be patient, but she lets her way in with Misty. This is all happening very fast. Wait how does she know that-

“Where did you get that from?”

You step aside and let them enter, leading them to the kitchen, thinking of what to say. What do you tell people you haven’t seen in years? Or rather avoided for years. 

“Misty kept track of all of us. You can thank her for that.”

Natalie takes off her glasses, sighing as she sits down. Misty shoots her a look and she shrugs her shoulders.

“What Nat kindly means is, now that we found you, we have a problem we need to discuss.”

She hands over the plate of cookies. Swallowing hard and nodding, you thank her then look for plates. 

You’re starting to regret not enjoying your given break sooner.

“What kind?”

“A reporter problem.”

Nat answers, with an edge of annoyance to her tone. Looks like you're not the only one who has been dealing with…wait. Why are they looking at you like that? They don’t think I said anything, do they?

You serve them plates and sit down opposite the two, looking between them. One looks sceptical while the other…looks afraid of being disappointed.

“A Jessica Roberts problem? That reporter? I swear I didn’t tell her anything. I even thought it was her ringing on my door, I was about to gently remind her to leave me alone.”

A small exhale leaves Misty’s lips, almost of relief while Natalie furrows her brows. 

“I can ask you two the same thing. Did you?”

“God, no. She tried to give me some book deal, telling me how I would make a lot of money out of it. But I wasn’t buying anything that she tried selling me.”

“She tried to bribe an answer out of you?”

They nod, all of a sudden looking uneasy. Natalie dwindles her thumbs and Misty leans forward and drops her voice to a whisper, even though you’re the only three people in the house.

“We think someone talked. Or someone is, I don’t know, spying on us. We tried to look for the other girls but so far, you were the first one on our list. We needed to stop by.”

Her eyes search your face. Visibly stricken. You don’t know if it’s because of the shock of revealing the news. You lean back into your chair as Natalie grabs a cookie and scrambles it down.

“Of course, that was before she did something to screw up my car. Next thing you know she’ll break yours, might as well keep it hidden.”

“Natalie, aren’t you just funny today?”

“Very. Now, tell me Ranger. Any loose lips recently? You must have talked in your sleep about it to whoever was with you. Misty found someone by the name of…Finn. It couldn’t have just been a lovers’ quarrel right?”

Just how much information do these two know? Finn is not even considered as an “ex”. Merely just a failed relationship.

Misty brings her fingers together, the clogs visibly turning in her brain. Whatever words she is communicating through the daggers she shoots at Natalie must work, because she turns around to look at you.

“Look, this situation is weird. It concerns us. If we don’t put a stop to it then she will keep on fucking with our lives. Literally and metaphorically.”

You cross your arms and weigh her words. It’s not like you can exactly blame her, or even them, either for having certain doubts. 

“I swear I didn’t tell her anything, and I never plan on telling her what went on in these woods. I mean, she knows what I do for a living. Probably even knows where I live. I want to find out the truth as much as you.”

Natalie gives you this look. This long, look. Trying to look for the slightest ticks or anything in your face that makes her think you’re lying. Misty doesn’t say anything, her eyes finding the wooden table interesting. So much for someone who tried to defend you just a few seconds ago.

“Fine…but if I find out there is something, then-”

“Do what you must, Natalie.”

Your voice is firmly affirmative as you hold her steely gaze. After a couple of seconds, she finally lets down, raising her hands in surrender. Misty clears her throat, lifting her voice.

“Okay, now that it’s over can we finally work again? As in, a team? You’re a Ranger, right? That will bring us a lot of help. With your sense of responsibility and leadership.”

Misty is adorable but calling you a “team” is an exaggeration. Even though the sight of Natalie’s eyes rolling at the term makes you stifle a chuckle.

“Technically I am. My boss thinks I’m going through something, I don’t know. He put me on a three-week leave.”

She smiles brightly, extending her hand at your crossed arms. You glance down at it and lightly shake hers. Natalie just clears her throat and takes another cookie before approving.

“This reunion was sweet and all but we have to go. I’ll let Misty leave our contact info. Misty, I’ll wait for you in the car.”

Nat gives a tight-lipped smile before leaving you and Misty in the kitchen.

“I’m sorry about Nat, she’s just…I mean, it’s…”

She tries to find a way to phrase it in a way that wouldn’t sound outrightly hurtful. To be fair trust issues are bound to arise so…

Shaking your head you smile warmly at her. You stand up to grab a sticky note and a pen, handing it back to Misty.

“Yeah.”

You whisper, barely even audibly, your mind still racing. She pulls back, fixing her glasses in a way only Misty Quigley ever could. After she scribbles down two sets of numbers she gives it back to you. 

“Those numbers aren’t only for investigation purposes, it’s also a support group.”

“Investigation purposes” Like how she basically stalked y…wait. If she knows about you…then she must also know about the others. 

“Hey…I just have a question. If you found out about me…do you…do you know about the rest, or were they good at covering up their tracks? I’m just curious. Y’know. Harmless curiosity.”

Her ears perked up and if it were anyone else but Misty, you don’t think you’d support this cheerfulness and optimism. 

“Of course. Besides, pretty much all information that is out there is public knowledge so I didn’t really “find” you. Who do you want to know about? Randy? Ooh, maybe that girl who took your jacket and never gave it back to you-”

“Ty. I mean, Taissa. I want to know about Taissa.”

That was too much of a quick interruption. Her eyebrows furrow and her lips are brought into a smile. Whatever remark she is about to make is quickly shut down, again.

“It’s just, y’know I heard she was running for Senator. That is major. Really major.”

“Well yes, that is part of it. She is also married and has a child. That is pretty much about it? I mean, it’s not like I can tell you what her favourite ice cream flavour or meal is.”

Pecan. Shrimp alfredo.

She smiles wholeheartedly and shrugs. Right. Married. You don’t exactly know what it is that you were hoping for, anyway. It’s not like you were ever really a first option either so…

The car outside honks, stopping the beginning of a spiral.

“Right. Well in any case thanks, Misty. Drive safely.”

“Don’t mention a single word about it. And do watch your back…we don’t know who or what we’re dealing with.”

A couple of hours after they left, you stared into nothingness. After twenty-five years you’d think everyone will have a smidge of normalcy in their lives. Stirring macaroni, your eyes shift from the pot to your computer. Activities to do when you’re bored and Jessica Roberts.

What still gets you is this nonchalance. 

She’s obsessive. It is her job but she is strangely, weirdly, bizarrely obsessive. Whatever reason does she have to know about your past life? Everything is out there for her to know already. Everyone knows or at least has some idea of what happened. 

Abandoning the stove to scroll through your computer, you look for anything that will give a clue. There is nothing much useful but her education, her accreditation…

“I’m on your case now you bottom feeding bi-”

A postcard flies right past the window, landing in the sink. What the…? You peer over it. At a glance, a simple, innocent postcard. Turning it around, all the colour leaves your body, ignoring the smell of the pot burning. Exactly what you were afraid of. 

“We don’t know who or what we’re dealing with” are now famous last words.

⟰⟰⟰⟰⟰⟰

“There is no fucking way this is happening.”

You set the now-burnt macaroni aside, your brain circling back to the symbol on the back of the “I miss you!” postcard. 

“What if it’s- it’s laced or something and I’ll get sick in a couple of hours and- for all we know she can be some fucking deranged mentally ill serial killer who’s wanted by the FBI and-”

“Hey, it’s okay. I promise nothing is laced, alright? Focus on the sound of my voice and slowly inhale then exhale with me. Ready?”

Misty softly speaks, guiding and helping you breathe regularly again. The ringing in your ears is slowly dissipating and your legs don’t feel like giving up on themselves anymore. 

“Good, good job. Just take your time.”

“Are you alright to continue the conversation?”

Natalie exasperates. Like you're a child who woke their parents up to tell them they’ve pissed the bed again. 

You take a final deep exhale, your voice slightly breaking. You grab a bottle of water from your fridge and take a few sips.

“Yeah, yeah I’m…I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey, don’t apologise. Anyone would have had the same reaction as you, Ranger. Never know what could happen these days. All kinds of freaks are running around and ow- Misty I’m trying to assist, here.”

“Thanks Natalie. That…helps. A bit.”

Weirdly, surprisingly, you’re comforted by her words. You would have expected anything but that given her lack of trust at the beginning. 

“So with Nat we’re thinking that it’s either Jessica’s own doing, or someone’s working with her.”

“Hmm…and if you had the same card as me then that means…”

“...There is a chance the others must have received it.”

They complete your sentence at the same time, still trying to make sense of this entire situation. Is Jessica Roberts a family member like you’ve doubted before? Or is she working with someone to try and fish information out of us to extort us or something Like Natalie said? That or she’s a con who is efficiently covering up her tracks. 

Your hands fiddle with the loose strings of your flannel, the only thing that brings you back to reality and refuses your brain the idea that it is a state-like dream. 

No one says anything for a couple of seconds, turning into minutes. The only sound that fills the silence is the soft hum of their car radio. Until Misty speaks up again, a strange lilt to her voice for this situation.

“I think it’s time we bring the team back together.”

[renaiswriting]

Baci di Luna (part 2)

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol/Reader

Summary:

Saying I love you was never easy.

Having to say it in a language that wasn't yours was not easy either.

Imagine the struggle of that, and now add it to loving someone whose family thinks you're a monster.

It can't be easy at all.

Warnings: None in this part I think.

Word count: 1.6k+ words

If you want to be tagged, please fill out the tag list form

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Masterlist

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It was already five in the morning, and the sky was just as dark as how he had seen it before hoping to sleep two hours ago.

He could hear a soft snoring coming from the room next to his; Jeonghan seemed to be deep in sleep.

Seungcheol moved quickly to the bathroom, taking a quick bath. The sweat was dry on his skin, so the fresh water was a nice change.

He was eager to leave the house, but he wanted to be the most presentable (and handsome) he had ever been before.

He dried his wet face, taking the fat drops from the bath with the blue towel Wonwoo's mom had bought for them.

His body was incredibly awake, considering that he was moving on just two hours of sleep. He rushed back to his room, picking up the plain black shirt he owned and a pair of jeans.

He was just about to leave the house when the front door opened and two sleepy figures entered the house, greeting Seungcheol on their way to sleep.

Vernon was walking almost in automatic mode, his foot barely breaking contact with the floor.

"He ran away two wolves that were trying to enter our territory," Mingyu informed, covering his mouth to yawn. His hair was such a mess that Seungcheol wanted to go back to the bathroom with a glass and come back to wet it all.

"Did they go away?"

Mingyu nodded, looking unsure. "We waited for them until it was time to go back; we couldn't catch them anywhere."

Seungcheol nodded. "Let Joshua know, and tell him to bring Soonyoung with him just in case; it wouldn't hurt to have an extra pair of eyes out there."

Mingyu gave him a thumbs up, as his mouth was busy drinking a glass of water. "Where are you going?" He asked, drying the rest of the water on his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I'll go to the town; we're running out of fresh bread." He replied.

"Be careful." Mingyu told him before Seungcheol's body was met with the freezing wind.

Seungcheol was glad his body ran at a higher temperature than the normal human body; it was easier for him to move in the brutal winter weather and low temperatures without risking a cold. (Or well, without risking neumonia, because it was more than common among the wolves.)

He didn't have to think much; it was like his body understood where they were going without his mind having to remind it of the way.

Sooner than expected, he was making his way down the bustling streets of the small town. The sky was now turning from black to a mixture of orange and blue.

The smell of the morning invaded his nose almost completely, and he could even hear some stray dogs barking far away.

Some old dude greeted him with a "good morning" as their paths met; he was walking really slowly with a hand on his lower back.

His jeans were feeling really cold against his skin; the fabric clearly wasn't made for such a cold day.

He turned one more time, and his nose started twitching as the smell of freshly baked bread and pastries filled his nostrils.

Without noticing, he started picking up his phase. The change in smell was incredible, from the musky scent of the forest. He did still prefer it to the smell of the town, but the sweet smell was indeed pleasant.

He soon found himself standing in front of the little bakery. Since the town was clearly less busy than the last time he was there, he took the time to see every single detail. One of the walls had small white and yellow flowers; they were so tiny that you could barely see the petals if you weren't close to them.

He wasn't sure what those flowers were called.

Minghao was the plant and flower expert of the pack. Which was really useful since he knew exactly what plant and which part to use depending on what was required.

He had an incredible tea that cured all the sore throats and was the one Seungcheol used the most.

There was a single light inside, coming from a candle; it was yellowish, almost orange, and it made the place look warmer.

And moving behind the candle were you.

You had your long hair tied in a ponytail, and your ears were decorated with golden earrings that shone in the light. From what he could see behind the door, you were busy writing something on a piece of paper. Your cheek was resting on the back of your hand, and some of your hair was falling near your eyes.

Seungcheol wanted to come inside, but he wasn't sure what would be the best way to approach her. It seemed like you were alone and not expecting anybody, so for him to just open the door like that would probably scare the snot out of you.

Instead, he softly knocked on the door. He tried to be as gentle as possible, but the sudden noise startled you.

Seungcheol quickly took a step back, raising his hands to his head level, so you could see he wasn't trying to break in or anything.

You rushed to pick up what you had dropped, trying to calm your heart.

You carefully walked near the door with the candle in your hand; your legs were shaking.

Only you had the thought to come back in here when it was still so dark outside.

Your mother would be so mad.

"We're not open." You told him that your voice was still wavering as you were struggling to recover from such a scare.

"Oh— sorry." The man replied.

You frowned. You knew that voice. You weren't exactly sure from where, but you were certain that this wasn't the first time you heard it.

"Who's there?" You asked more firmly this time, moving the candle closer to the figure. The glass in between made it more difficult to see who was on the other side. The figure moved closer so you could have a better look.

"I'm Seungcheol." He replied, his eyes opening bigger once you both made eye contact.

"The croissant guy." You nodded, earning a smile from the guy.

"Yeah, that one." He chuckled.

You thought about it for a second before deciding to open the door for him.

You could hear your father scolding you from the back of your head.

The man, Seungcheol, walked inside slowly. It was like he was trying to see what your reaction would be, giving you the time to back out if you wanted to. His eyes shifted from you to the different things inside the bakery, scanning the display cases filled with all sorts of baked goods.

"You scared me." You confessed to him, closing the door again once he was fully inside. You checked quickly outside, trying to see if there was anybody walking near the bakery. But just as expected, there was no one else. "I wasn't expecting anybody at this time."

"I'm sorry; I didn't think much." He apologized, taking some steps back so there was more space between the two of you.

"It alright." You reassured him, taking the tissue you had used to clean the mess you had made before to quickly clean some of the tint on the floor. "God, I hope my mother doesn't see this."

"Let me do it." Seungcheol kneeled on the floor, taking another tissue from the table you were using and cleaning it himself. You tried to stop him, but it was useless. "What were you doing?" He asked instead.

"I was writing to one of my friends," you replied, sighing when some of your hair moved to your eyes. "I haven't seen them in a while, and it wouldn't hurt me to keep practicing my Italian with someone before I forget all of it."

"You speak Italian?" Seungcheol asked, surprised; his eyes were wide open, absorbing every single one of your movements and your words.

"Yeah, my mother would kill me otherwise." You chuckled, "She goes way easy on my brother's Italian, though... Sorry, what were you looking for?"

"Uh, yeah, I'll take one of those," Seungcheol replied, pointing to a tray behind you without looking.

You nodded, moving to where he had pointed and wrapping six up in a paper bag. "Would that be it?" You asked.

"And bread, yeah—bread please."

You're handing it all to him. "That'll be five dollars, please."

Seungcheol dug into his pocket and handed you the money. Both of your fingers brushed against each other for a brief moment, and for such a cold morning, his hand was way warmer than you had thought.

His heart skipped a beat at the touch.

When you moved your hand away, he felt deep inside the urge to hold it, to feel the touch of your skin against his again.

But he didn't.

He wasn't trying to come across as weird.

And he wasn't even sure he was doing a good job at the moment.

He didn't want to scare you away.

"Thank you; come again," you smiled at him. "Although not at this time." She laughed. The sound of you had such an effect on Seungcheol that he couldn't help but smile as well.

"I'll make sure to never come back at this time." He replied, smiling apologetic to you, still feeling bad for scaring you.

"It's alright; I shouldn't be here at this time anyway; it can be quite dangerous."

"Yeah." Seungcheol nodded, looking more serious this time. "It can be really dangerous; please be careful."

As he made his way back towards the forest, he took a bite of what he had bought, making a surprised noise when he came across a flavor that he already knew. He held the cornetto closer to his eyes. It was delicious.

But even more satisfying than the cornetto he was devouring was the thought of your smile.

He couldn't wait to see you again.

And to get teased by Jeonghan if he ever saw him like this.

[moondust-writes]

『It's Cold Outside』 desc; having a break from classwork is a rare but wonderful opportunity, though maybe you should have worn something a little bit warmer when heading to glasedeo... a/n; no but why do the uniforms not have any proper protection from the cold if they're going to have students wander up glasedeo when it comes to the gym circuit???? no wonder geeta doesn't get many travelers. i like the cold but traveling in snow without proper snow attire??? just something i am pointing out - also first pokemon insert so all i ask is to not be too harsh with any critiques <3

You rubbed your hands together for what seemed like the thousandth time as you trudged through the snow, blowing on them every now and again to try and keep them from turning blue with the continuously dropping temperatures. Sure, there was a winter uniform that the academy provided its students...but in areas like Glasedeo...well, it didn't provide much protection from the wind and falling snow.

Now that you thought about it...that's probably why you never encountered many trainers on your way to the gyms when you were doing the gym circuit - and was probably a factor for why Nemona and you were one of the few Champion Ranked students rather than La Primera's strength alone. Maybe it would be worth mentioning it to the Director? Changing the entire uniform could be tedious, but even just making the dress code more lenient for the colder months would be a good idea-

Lost in the train of thought, you hadn't noticed the way the snow seemed to flatten, to hold a shine to it as you climbed up hill to your destination. Even though the pokemon traveling with you a few feet away gave a short cry of warning as they galloped toward you, it was a few seconds too late.

"Wh-AH-" You turned your head to look at your partner with confusion, right as your foot struck the ice they were attempting to warn you about just a few moments prior. Slipping, you were lucky to avoid landing face first, hands instinctively stopping your fall in the snow. With a low groan of annoyance and frustration, you pushed up onto your knees, brushing your palms to get rid of the sting from both the impact and biting freeze when you felt a weight drop around the back of your neck and a gloved hand was held out in front of you.

Trailing your gaze up, you found blue eyes staring back at you with the slightest hint of concern shining through the expressionless face the trainer held. "You going to keep staring, or are you going to get up?" Face flushing with heat rather than the cold for the first time that day, you offered a sheepish smile before taking his hand and allowing him to help you onto your feet.

Looking down at your uniform as you cleared the snow from your clothing, you noticed the heavy fabric of the gym leader's scarf dangling over your shoulders- though you didn't have time to question it before Grusha turned to walk away with a motion to follow.

"You should be more careful. There's more ice around Glasedeo this time of year, and with more blizzards, things are more dangerous. Especially without proper clothes." Hurrying to catch up with him, you wrapped the scarf around you properly, pulling the material over your face and melting into the warmth as you tucked your hands under your arms. "Yeah, I know. Was just in thought," you started, smiling as your pokemon pranced up beside you and your new companion, not wanting to stray too far after the previous accident.

"Ironically, it about uniforms and the weather." You finished the thought a moment later after receiving a look of curiosity from Grusha, finding a small sense of pride rise within you as he seemed to chuckle in amusement at the information. "What are you doing up here anyway? It's colder than usual."

"Had free time, decided to travel." You spoke nonchalantly, shrugging afterwards as the two of you approached the gym-site. Rolling his eyes, he only shook his head before speaking again whilst he led you inside. "Of course- come on, get warmed up."