#and when I got to my house I had to run up and down the stairs a few times to wear off a bit of the energy

[cupidbedsy]

𝜗𝜚 drunken nights ; into you

➪ summary: after a long week, y/n just wants to unwind and luke looks after her when things get a little out of hand

➪ warnings: reader is an emotional and very clingy drunk

➪ word count: 2.1k

➪ cupid's notes: i am so so excited for everything that comes out of this au! if you want, please keep sending in thoughts and asks and yeah. i hope you guys enjoy

© cupidbedsy ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

It had been way too long of a week for her, tests upon tests, assignment after assignment, and worst of all she had barely seen Luke all week. At first, the idea of getting up and getting ready for a party she knew she would only halfway enjoy seemed exhausting but then the thought of being able to unwind and see Luke made its way into her mind and she wasted no time in starting to do her makeup. 

Dressed in one of her favorite short black skirts, a blue corset top, with her leather jacket thrown on and her knee-high black boots adorning her feet, she let her friends drag her out of their dorm and down the stairs, heading for the car. 

She was silent almost the whole way there, the lingering stress and anxiety still flowing through her head. If it wasn’t for the idea of seeing Luke tonight, she would’ve let the uneasiness consume her entirely. 

She was so in her head that she didn’t even realize that they parked outside of the Frat house that was hosting the party that night. She could hear the music from outside, watching as the lights flickered within the house and people hung out on the lawn. 

She gripped her best friend’s hand tightly, walking through the crowded house towards the kitchen where all the drinks were. She watched as her friend poured her her first drink of the night, taking it gratefully and sipping on it. 

Luke was in the middle of a game of beer pong, laughing with a few of his frat boys, running a hand through his hair when he felt something within him shift. It was the same feeling he got whenever y/n showed up, whenever he would lay eyes on her, whenever she brushed her fingers against his arm. 

His eyes worked overtime trying to find her, looking from the other side of the living room to the front door. He frowned when he didn’t see her, immediately going to scan the house again, but that’s when he saw her, tipping her head back as she finished her drink and reaching out to grab another one from her friend. 

He mumbled an ��excuse me’ before making his way over to her, pushing through people to do so. They had been texting any chance they got meaning he knew how stressed she had been the entirety of the week and now seeing her tip back the drink as fast as she did, he knew that she would be downing drinks like there was no tomorrow. 

He threw an arm around her as soon as he approached, taking the drink from her hand, “Hey.”

She frowned when the cup left her grasp, looking up at him with her signature doe eyes, whining, “Lukey.”

“Yes, pretty girl?”

“You took my drink.”

He laughed at her pout, bringing her closer to his side so he could press a kiss to her temple, “I did. How many have you had already?”

“I just got here, that’s my second one.”

He gave her a skeptical look but relented nonetheless, handing her the drink back. He watched the people around them before turning his attention back to her, “How’re you doing?”

“Okay.” 

He furrowed his eyebrows at the short answer, expecting at least something other than okay. He maneuvered her so she was standing in front of him, making her stare up at him. His eyes trailed over her face, making note of every single freckle, eyelash, curve, and contour of her face, “What’s wrong?”

“A little stressed still. Have a bunch of things to do this weekend still.”

“Which means you want to drink to your heart’s content don’t you?”

Y/n gave him a pleading look, “Just for tonight? Please, Lukey.”

She watched as he mulled over the thought in his mind, studying his damp curls and the bead of sweat falling down the side of his face. She took in his appearance while she waited, his unbuttoned dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up, and his khaki shorts that sat just above his knees. 

“Fine.” 

She was snapped out of her trance at his single word, giving him a grateful smile as she raised on her tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his cheek before downing her drink. He sighed in return, knowing that this was going to be a long night. 

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

And he was right, she drank drink after drink, giggling like a little schoolgirl with each one she had. He had forgotten about how she was when she was drunk, the cute little laugh she couldn’t stop releasing, her contagious smile, and her clingy nature. 

Y/n reached for another drink but Luke’s hand encompassed hers and took it into his own, bringing it to his chest as she glared at him. He grinned, dumping the cup’s contents down the sink and wrapping his arms around her waist, bringing her to his chest, “I think it’s time we get you home, pretty girl.”

“But I’m having fun.” Her whine was barely loud enough for him, he had to bend down just so he could hear her words. 

“And you’re not going to have any fun tomorrow if you keep having fun tonight. C’mon, let’s go.”

She only giggles again, reaching up to run a hand through his hair, “You’re pretty, Lukey.”

A smirk takes over his features, looking down at her curiously, “Is that so, princess?”

“Mhm. The prettiest,” she states matter-of-factly, tugging at one of his curls again. 

“You’re so drunk, baby.” He murmurs, kissing her forehead.

“I’m telling the truth!”

“And how can I be sure you’re not bluffing? You gonna prove it to me?”

“I will.”

“And how will you manage to do that?” He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest, his face still set in his usually cocky smugness. 

“You’ll find out. Just you wait, Luke Hughes.”

“Oh, I will be.”

A silence falls between them, or about as silent as you can get with music still blaring through multiple speakers and people yelling over said music. And after a few minutes, y/n could feel the tiredness creeping up on her causing her to shuffle closer to her best friend, laying her head on his chest, “Lukey?”

He wrapped her arms around her shoulders, resting his chin on her head, “Yeah, y/n/n?”

“Can we go now?”

He chuckled but nodded, “‘Course we can, c’mon.” His hand falls to her lower back, guiding her out of the house and down the street to where his truck was parked, helping her into the passenger seat. 

He walked around to the other side, climbing into the truck himself, stealing a glance over at her, and confusion flashing across his face when he saw the pout on her lips, “What’s wrong, pretty girl? Too much to drink?”

“Wanna sit by you.”

He raised an eyebrow, drawing his hand back from the keys that were in the ignition, “You want to sit by me?”

She just nodded, a determined feeling washing over her. He threw his head back, running a hand through his hair as he tried to think of a way to break it to her that she wouldn’t be able to sit in his lap. It had been so long since she had been this drunk that he had forgotten how clingy she got, and how sad she got when she didn’t get her way. 

“Y/n/n you can’t sit in my lap.” He stated softly, looking over at her. 

“Why not?”

“Because I’m driving, it’ll not only put you in danger but me as well. Just gotta wait a few minutes, sweet girl, and then you can cuddle me and sit in my lap as much as your heart desires.”

She whined again, “That’ll take too long.”

A chuckle escaped him, letting his hand move to settle on her thigh, “It won’t be more than 10 minutes, hell it probably won’t even be five.”

Y/n knew he was right, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to be right. She stared back at him, trying to assert some level of authority over him but the challenging look he was giving her was enough to make her sink back into the seat, “Fine.”

“Good girl.” He squeezed her thigh, leaning over to kiss her temple before starting his truck and pulling away from the curb. 

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

Luke had to drag her upstairs, y/n letting him carry most of her body weight as she rested against him. The two came to a stop at his room, y/n waiting as he opened the door, leading her to sit down on his bed. She watched him carefully as he picked a few things off the ground, mostly dirty clothes, and placed them where they should be. 

He could feel her gaze on him but he paid no mind to it, continuing to tidy up as best as he could. When he finished, he turned back to her, smiling softly as her eyes opened and closed. He walked over to her, placing his index finger beneath her chin and tilting her head up so she was looking at him through hazy eyes, “Tired, princess?”

“Mhm.”

“Let’s get you changed then, yeah?”

She just nodded in response, letting him move to grab one of his T-shirts from his drawer and an extra pair of sleep shorts she kept at his. He handed them to her but she just gave him a look of helplessness. He chuckled, “You want me to help?”

“Please.”

“Alright, baby.” He took the clothes from her again, placing them beside her on the bed, slipping her jacket off, and throwing it on the chair in the corner. 

His fingers skimmed her stomach as he went to take her shirt off, cooing softly, “Arms up.”

She did as she was told, lifting her arms so he could easily slide the shirt off of her, doing the same thing he did with her jacket. He tugged her skirt down before putting her shorts on and letting the t-shirt fall over her frame. 

“Better?”

“Mhm.” She moved to curl up on his bed, bringing the comforter around her, letting the heat surround her. 

Luke changed into a random pair of sweatpants, throwing his shirt in the laundry basket, and kissing her forehead, “I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Where you going?”

“Gonna get you some water and some meds so you’re head doesn’t hurt in the morning.”

“Quick?”

“Yeah, I’ll be quick.”

She nodded, snuggling into the bed as he left the room, practically running down the steps to the kitchen. 

And just like he promised, he was back within three minutes, two glasses of water and a few pills that he rested on his nightstand. He coaxed her into sitting up, letting her sit between his legs so her back was flush with his chest. 

“Drink.” He pressed the glass to her lips, urging her to take soft sips.  She sighed as the cool liquid went down her throat, relaxing even further into him. 

Once she finished the glass, he let her lay back down, him following in her steps, pulling her against him, “Get some sleep.”

Some time in between the time he left and when he got back, a small burst of energy made its way into her, causing her to turn over to face him, a small smile on her face, “No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“Wanna stay with you.”

“You were going to sleep with me here anyway, baby.”

“I want to stay awake and talk to you.” A frown graced her lips, pouting once again. 

Butterflies erupted in his stomach, looking at her in awe, “That’s sweet of you princess, but you need your rest.”

She nodded, the energy she got quickly fading, but one question lingered in her mind, “Lu?”

“What’s up?”

“I’m your best friend right?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “‘Course you are. Why’re you asking?”

“Just wondering.”

“Now tell me the real reason.”

“I dunno, just- would you go out with someone else?”

He softened, “I wouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause you’re mine, y/n/n.”

“Really?” Her eyes lit up slightly, her mind and body still letting the alcohol affect them. 

“Yep, all mine, baby.”

She didn’t say anything more, just snuggled into him once again, drifting off to sleep almost instantly. Luke knew she wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning, the only thing she would have as a reminder would be the pounding headache once she woke up.

꒰ INTO YOU TAGLIST ꒱

@fantillisgirl @hughesmedicine @jjgsunflower @kaydesssssssss

INTO YOU MASTERLIST ; AU'S

TAGLIST ; NHL MASTERLIST ; NAVIGATION

[captain-huggy-bear]

Into the Penalty Box

Pairing: Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: N/A

Summary: Jack has to put your son in the sin bin...

Notes: Short but I had this really fun idea for how Jack doles out consequences as a dad.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

"Jack, baby...Carter just bit Ellen." You're tugging Carter along behind you by the wrist gently, he's pouting at the entire way and dragging his feet. Ellen is in your arms sniffling and crying into your shoulder because her big brother (at the tender age of 5 years old) decided that the best way to get rid of his 'annoying' baby sister (of 2) was to bite her. Hard. On the arm.

"Let me see, baby girl." Your daughter holds her arm out to her dad, who's suitably sympathetic, cooing over the teeth marks and pressing a kiss there to 'make it better'. It brings a smile to her little face, tears starting to dry up, but leaving blotchy redness behind.

Once Jack has dealt with the issue of his baby girl crying he turns to his son who you've release your grip on knowing he's unlikely to make a run for it and has typically been pretty good at accepting punishment. Mostly because he's stubborn enough that he always wants to plead his case first.

Jack folds his arms across his chest looking down at the spitting image of himself at 5 years old, light brown near blonde curls, bright blue eyes, chubby blushing cheeks and many missing teeth. Carter is Jack, rowdy, loud, full of energy and from time to time fed up with having a baby sibling who wants his attention all the time. One day he'll grow to love it, hate when his sister stops idolising him, but for now? For now apparently biting has become his new solution and Jack had always taught him that biting was not something they did in their house.

You bounce Ellen in your arms, running a hand over her hair and down her back while you watch Jack crouch down to Carter's level. Jack, despite people's belief, was a disciplinarian. Just not in the usual way...he never shouted, he didn't scream, he didn't insult the kids, none of the typical old school dad stuff, but what he did do always seemed to work.

"Bud, you can't bite your sister."

"But she was being annoying!" It's like watching a second Jack, the way Carter folds his arms across his little chest and puffs out his cheeks as he pouts. You're surprised he didn't stomp a foot on the floor, but it seems he learnt from last time that that only got him more penalty minutes.

"I don't care, it's against the rules, bud, against the code. You've got 5 minutes in the penalty box, get." Jack points to the corner of your living room where the penalty box sits. At first the penalty box had been simply a pillow in the corner, but one summer Jack, Quinn and Luke had spent some time and money making a replica penalty box that sat perfectly in your living room. At first you'd been...less than pleased, but now it was the highlight of your parenting adventures. The way Carter would slam the little door closed, how he'd pout on the bench and drink from the water bottle you always put in there for him as he'd watch the little clock. Whenever he was in hockey gear it was made even better, especially the replica Devils Jersey Luke had gotten him one Christmas. Then it really was like watching a baby Jack sitting in the sin bin.

"But you bite mom!" Carter's face practically goes bright red with his frustration, brows so furrowed they're almost in his eyes and this time he does stomp his feet.

There's a beat of silence, one in which you do your very best not to laugh because Jack's play biting apparently has come back to haunt him. All those times he's come home and pretended to take chomp out of your arm or neck, every time he placed a kiss on your neck in front of Carter only to bite you lightly to make you laugh...

Jack tries everything in his power to remain stern, to not laugh, to not give in because fuck, he's really dug himself a hole with this one, "I nibble on your mom, I don't 'bite' her and I never hurt her. You were trying and succeeded in hurting your baby sister."

"Dad!"

"Do you want another 5 for unsportsmanlike conduct?" Jack's favourite tool whenever Carter or Ellen start to argue back to him, although mostly Carter. Ellen has yet to reach the terrible period of defiance that all toddlers go through.

"No..."

"So into the penalty box, bud." You both watch as Carter slumps off towards the box, slamming the door closed behind him, the wood and plastic wobbling slightly under the force of it.

He sits on the bench, arms crossed, glaring at the clock. Jack sets a timer for 5 minutes and you watch. There's something about watching either of the kids in the box that's interesting because you can see the moment they start to cool down and realise that maybe they're in there for a reason.

With Carter it's the way he starts to look towards Ellen, face scrunched up in guilt, biting on his little lip. You know at 2 minutes and 24 seconds in the sin bin, that Carter will never bite Ellen again and you know that he understands that he hurt her, really hurt her.

It's what has you putting her down and letting her waddle towards the box nearer to the time being over and what has you opening the box a minute early.

You lean into Jack's side and watch as Carter leans down and pulls his baby sister into a hug, before reaching for her arm and placing a kiss on the boo boo where he bite her a little too hard.

"'m sorry, Ellie. I shouldn't have bit you."

"'s okay, Cay-Cay" Because she always struggled to fully say Carter so he'd become Cay-Cay to her. She pats his cheek with her little hand and you know, you know it'll be okay, that you're raising two good kids even if they have their moments.

"Sin bin works again, and you wanted to get rid of it." Jack looks smugly down at you, all dimples and stupidly attractive smirk as he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

You roll your eyes at him even as you lean further into him, "Yes, well, I guess you have good ideas sometimes...biter."

"Hey! You love when I bite you...just, maybe need to avoid the jokes around the kids...did not see that coming."

[pronouncingitwang]

[ID: 8 screenshots of text reading

DOCTOR: What happened? AMY: Twelve years. DOCTOR: You hit me with a cricket bat. AMY: Twelve years. DOCTOR: A cricket bat. AMY: Twelve years and four psychiatrists. DOCTOR: Four? AMY: I kept biting them. DOCTOR: Why? AMY: They said you weren't real.

And this was where Amy Pond usually woke up - unable to make sense of this strange, unsettling dream about a mother she didn't have… about a memory she was sure couldn't be real. In a cold sweat, she reached for the glass of water by her bed, gulping at it. And then, as psychiatrist number three had taught her to do, she counted to ten. She had stopped trying to learn her psychiatrists' names. There was no point when they never lasted. And they never lasted because she kept biting them when they told her he wasn't real. Her raggedy man.

Remember that dog that got run over? I can still see the van driver cradling it and saying the same thing over and over, really desperately hoping that it was all going to be OK. Now here's Amy Pond, standing in the freezing ocean, hold- ing the dead body of her imaginary friend, and shouting at the sea to make him better. Yeah. If only my therapists could see me now.

[Living room] (The nice lady psychiatrist is looking at a painting of the moon and stars.) CHRISTINE: It's a lovely painting, Amelia. And what are all these? AMELIA: Stars. SHARON: Oh, Amelia. CHRISTINE: Tell you what, shall we go outside? [Outside the house] CHRISTINE: What do you see, Amelia? AMELIA: The moon. CHRISTINE: And what else? AMELIA: Just the dark. CHRISTINE: But no stars. If there were stars up there, we'd be able to see them, wouldn't we? Amelia, look at me. You know this is all just a story, don't you? You know there's no such thing as stars.

Amy's eyes were filling with tears but she blinked them away quickly. She knew that eventually she would have to tell him, but she didn't know how. Not without him thinking she was crazy, just like her psychiatrists and her aunt and the school counsellor. And she really didn't want to bite Rory when he was being so nice to her, and …

INTERFACE: Unexpected visitor. Welcome. Please seek assistance. (A Handbot is up ahead.) AMY: Hello? Hey. Oi, wait. (The Handbot turns and scans her.) HANDBOT: You are carrying unregistered bacteria. Please let me help you. AMY: No, I'm not from this world. Your medicine'll kill me. HANDBOT: Statement rejected. Do not be alarmed. This is a kindness.

'That's ironic. So, you just keep them locked up here?' the Doctor said. He sipped his tea. 'How moral and ethical is that?' Jackson set down his tea on one of the few empty spaces on his desk. 'They're here for their own good.' 'I've heard that before,' Amy retorted. 'No, I mean it. They're here for treatment.'

AUGUSTUS: At the age of six and announced that the new head teacher wasn't real because she looked like a cartoon. AMY: Shut up, Dad! RORY: Amy? AUGUSTUS: Amelia? AMY: Sorry, but shut up, please. There's someone missing. Someone important. Someone so, so important. RORY: Amy, what's wrong? AMY: Sorry. Sorry, everyone. But when I was a kid, I had an imaginary friend. TABETHA: Oh no, not this again. AMY: The raggedy Doctor. My raggedy Doctor. But he wasn't imaginary, he was real. TABETHA: The psychiatrists we sent her to.

/end ID]

amy pond + involuntary / coercive treatment

( the eleventh hour / the girl who tore through the universe by nikita gill / dead of winter by james goss / the big bang / the girl who tore through the universe by nikita gill / the girl who waited / apollo 23 by justin richards / the big bang )

[universefcb]

↬�� Big boy

Pau Cubarsí x Fem!Reader

sy: When he gets freaked out by the huge height difference between you.

a/n: I don't like writing dirty things, but writing about this Pau Cubarsí made me crazy! I'm in love with it. And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.

Made for this request.

warnings: Pau Cubarsí is a naughty guy, he's a fiery boyfriend, a boyfriend crazy about the reader.

You took a sip of juice through a straw and watched your boyfriend play ball with some unknown kids on the beach. You smiled as you watched him lift two kittens in his arms, one on each side. You were drawn to the thick veins that appeared on his arm and you bit your lip. Your boyfriend was a big boy.

He continued to play and you watched. Few fans stopped to ask for photos, the beach was practically deserted and you thanked him mentally. You saw your boyfriend approaching after finishing the game with the children. Those who were now with their respective parents.

“You’re so thoughtful. We’re still too young to have a baby,” he joked, lying down next to her on the lounger.

“I was just looking at how handsome my boyfriend is.” Her hands held his biceps, pressing her chest against his. Only to seal her lips on his in a quick kiss.

“I feel embarrassed like this,” he chuckled softly, trailing kisses from her cheek to her neck.

His kisses on your neck were wet, and he sucked on your skin, and you already knew that a huge mark would be born.

“Pau…” you gasped, closing your eyes and squeezing his arms in your hand. “We’re in public..!

He chuckled against your neck, pulling away. Your eyes met and you reveled in the sight of that bright green staring back at you.

“I’m just going to take a dip and then we can leave.” He said, and got up, running towards the sea, throwing himself in.

You laughed, picking up your magazine and flipping through it again. You hadn't gone into the sea because of a small injury on your leg, so you chose to sit there. After a few minutes he came back.

You handed him the towel, and he dried his hair and torso afterwards. He helped you carry your things to put in the car. The sunset was beautiful, and Bife decided to take a picture of this wonderful landscape.

“I stayed still.” Cubarsí asked, taking his cell phone out of his pocket and taking pictures from different angles. “Hot..”

You smiled embarrassedly. Pau always praised you with these comments, or teased you with silly hands at inappropriate times. The boy only had an innocent face, but in reality he was a huge rascal.

You got into the car, and he drove calmly. You would never get used to the idea that Pau was now driving and had his own car.

As soon as he parked in front of your house, he looked at you with big eyes, like a begging puppy.

“Sleep at my house, it’s been a while since I’ve had you in my arms” your voice came out tearful and you laughed, circling his face with your hands, to get closer and brush the tip of his nose with yours.

“You have a game tomorrow morning, and if I sleep over at your house it will only be a nuisance.” He sighed, knowing it was true. “You need to play well so I can tell everyone what a hard-working and great player my boy is!

He smiled, bringing his face closer to hers. Lightly biting her lower lip. He held her hand, but seconds later he looked at her.

“What’s wrong?” you looked at your joined hands, and then laughed, already knowing why he was reacting. “You’re huge!

You saw him smile sideways “Not in that sense, idiot” you nudged him with your free hand, feeling shy due to the boy’s impure thoughts.

“You’re so tiny! My baby, my little baby.” He opened his hands, placing his palm over hers. “Wow!

His hands were much bigger than yours, the boy was very tall, at six feet and eighty-five. And you were almost a foot shorter than him. But it was no reason to complain, it was a reason to be proud just knowing that you have a huge boyfriend, who can carry you in his arms when you are sick or hold you like a baby when you are needy, you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

“You’re a huge boy!” You laughed, looking at him. He came closer again, starting to place kisses on your mouth, which were all returned. His huge hands were around you, holding you tightly. “Pau…”

You tried to speak, but he kissed you as if you were going to run away, and you really were.

“No..!” He mumbled, trailing kisses down her neck. “I miss you, I miss having you in my bed, or finding your clothes in my room. Please, just sleep tonight, I promise to play well tomorrow!”

You laughed at the boy's insistence. You sighed, caressing his puffy cheek.

“Okay, I'll just tell my parents and get some clothes.” She was going to get out of the car, but Pau stopped her.

“Wear one of my blouses”

“If I wear one of your shirts, we won’t sleep at night,�� she blew kisses before getting out of the car, leaving Cubarsí completely speechless – or maybe with something else –

Your like is important and helps me a lot. Don't be a ghost reader!

[oldsoul007]

Guess

older!joel miller x brat!younger!reader

summary: Joel never asked to be saddled with you—wild, reckless, and always testing his patience—but what started as a favor turned into something he couldn’t ignore, and by the time he realized he was in far too deep, it was already too late.

a/n: I never got over brat summer, forced proximity, tension, banter, kissing, suggestive scenes

joel miller masterlist

The first time I see Joel Miller, he’s scowling.

Like, really scowling. Deep line between his brows, mouth set in a firm, unimpressed line, arms crossed over his chest like he’s already exhausted before I’ve even said a word.

And that just makes me want to push his buttons.

He was older—forty-five, maybe—but damn if he didn’t wear it well. Tall, broad, built like a man who knew hard work and even harder days. The kind of man who didn’t waste words or time on things he thought weren’t worth it.

“Y/n,” Tommy grins, throwing an arm around me, “meet my older brother, Joel.”

Joel gives me a once-over, slow and deliberate. I feel his eyes drag over me, taking in my short dress, the bare skin, the slight smirk tugging at my lips. And just for fun, I shift my weight, tilting my head, letting my smile turn just a little more smug.

Tommy, oblivious, keeps talking. “Figured you two should finally meet since you’re always hangin’ around.”

Joel sighs, clearly already over this interaction. “Yeah. Great. Nice to meet you.”

I raise a brow. “Wow. So warm. So welcoming.”

Tommy snorts. “Don’t take it personal. He’s always like this.”

“Like what?” I ask, tilting my head, eyes flicking back to Joel.

Joel just stares at me, like he’s debating whether or not to entertain me. Finally, he mutters, “Serious.”

I grin. “And I’m guessin’ Tommy here told you I’m the opposite?”

Joel doesn’t answer, but the way his jaw flexes tells me enough.

Oh, this is gonna be fun.

I step a little closer, watching him carefully, waiting to see if he pulls back. He doesn’t—just watches me, unimpressed, unreadable, but I don’t miss the way his fingers twitch, like he’s restraining himself.

“You got somethin’ against fun, Miller?” I tease.

Joel exhales through his nose. “Just don’t got patience for trouble.”

I grin. “Good thing I ain’t trouble then.”

His eyes flick down to my lips for half a second before snapping back up. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Sure.”

Tommy laughs, clapping Joel on the back. “She’s a handful, huh?”

Joel shakes his head, muttering something under his breath before looking back at me. “You always this much of a pain in the ass?”

I beam. “You always this grumpy?”

His jaw tightens. I know I’m getting to him. And I love it.

Something about Joel Miller tells me he’s the type to resist—to hold himself back, to act like he doesn’t want.

But the way he’s looking at me now?

Yeah. He wants.

I never planned on ending up at Joel Millers house.

But life has a funny way of screwing with me.

One busted pipe in my apartment—water everywhere, maintenance useless, and suddenly, I had nowhere to stay. Tommy was out of town, and before I could even think of booking a motel, he was already on the phone, talking to Joel.

“Just for a few days,” Tommy had said. “Joel’s got the space.”

Joel, who was already looking at me like I was a problem before I even stepped foot in his house.

Now, standing in his doorway, duffel slung over my shoulder, I give him my best grin. “Miss me?”

Joel just sighs, running a hand down his face. “Just don’t make me regret this.”

“No promises.”

His jaw tightens, like he knew I was gonna say that.

I step past him, into his space, and the second the door shuts behind me, something shifts. It’s one thing to tease Joel out in the world, to push his buttons when there’s always somewhere else to go. But here? His house?

There’s nowhere to run now.

And by the way his eyes flicker over me—quick, sharp, like he already regrets agreeing to this—I can tell he’s thinking the same damn thing.

The first night at Joel’s place is… tense. In a way that has nothing to do with the fact that my apartment is currently unlivable and everything to do with him.

He didn’t exactly roll out the welcome mat when Tommy volunteered him to take me in. He just grunted, muttered something about “just for a couple nights,” and now here we are.

Joel’s house is simple. A little messy but lived-in. It smells like sawdust, coffee, and whatever soap he uses. I shouldn’t be noticing those things, but I do.

“You got a spare bedroom, or do I gotta fight you for the bed?” I ask, dropping my bag by the couch.

Joel gives me a look like he’s already regretting this. “Spare room’s down the hall. Not much in there, but it’s got a bed.”

I smirk. “A bed and a grumpy host? Wow, I’m spoiled.”

He exhales sharply through his nose, running a hand over his beard like he’s trying to summon patience. “You need anything, just… don’t.”

I grin. “Don’t what?”

He glares. “Don’t push it.”

Oh, but that’s my favorite thing to do.

—

It’s late when I finally settle in. The house is too quiet, too still, and I can’t sleep. Not used to this place, not used to him just a room away.

I pad down the hall, oversized t-shirt hanging off me, socks silent against the wood floor. The lamp in the living room is still on, and Joel’s sitting on the couch, looking lost in thought.

“Can’t sleep?” I ask, leaning against the doorway.

He looks up, eyes flicking to me—just for a second, just long enough to make me feel barely covered. He exhales, looking back at his floor. “Didn’t expect you to be the quiet type at night.”

I snort, walking over to perch on the arm of the couch. “Bet you thought I’d snore or talk in my sleep.”

Joel shrugs. “Still debatin’ it.”

I watch him for a moment, the way the lamp casts shadows over his face, the way he looks at everything except me. There’s something charged in the air, something neither of us want to acknowledge.

“You don’t like this, do you?” I tease, nudging his knee with my foot. “Having me here.”

Joel takes a slow look up at me. “Ain’t about likin’ it. It just is.”

I hum, watching him closely. “You’re so bad at lying.”

Joel’s jaw flexes.

And I know, I know, if I keep pushing, I’ll get something out of him. But for once, I don’t.

Instead, I stand, stretching dramatically. “Alright, Miller. I’ll stop bugging you. For now.”

Joel huffs. “Doubtful.”

I grin, heading toward the hallway. But just before I disappear into the dark, I hear him mutter—just low enough that I almost miss it.

“Sleep tight, trouble.”

And damn it, that shouldn’t make my stomach flip. But it does.

—

The thing about living with Joel? It’s too easy to mess with him.

I’ve been here for three days now, and I swear, every time I walk into a room, he looks like he’s debating whether or not to strangle me or throw me out. And honestly? I love it.

Like right now.

He’s standing in the kitchen, coffee in one hand, flipping through the mail like it personally offended him. His shirt is still wrinkled from sleep, hair a little messy, eyes heavy with whatever dreams he never talks about. And I? I’m perched on the counter, swinging my legs, eating the last piece of toast he made for himself.

Joel notices. His eyes flick to the empty plate in my hand, then to his own very empty hands, and then—then—he exhales so sharply it’s almost funny.

“Really?” he grumbles, setting the mail down with way more force than necessary. “You ain’t got hands to make your own damn food?”

I grin, taking a slow, deliberate bite. “Yours just looked better.”

Joel mutters something under his breath, something that sounds suspiciously like a curse, and turns to pour himself more coffee.

“Y’know,” I continue, voice sweet, “for a man who claims he doesn’t like me being here, you sure do take good care of me.”

Joel tenses. His grip on the coffee pot tightens.

“Wouldn’t have to if you took care of yourself,” he mutters, taking a sip.

I smirk. “Aww, Joel. You worried about me?”

He doesn’t answer. Just glares over the rim of his mug like he’s daring me to push him further.

So, of course, I do.

I hop off the counter, stepping closer, my bare feet silent against the floor. Joel watches me warily, like I’m a stray cat that might bite. I stop just in front of him, tilting my head.

“You sure you don’t like having me here?” I tease, my voice dropping just a little, just enough to make his fingers twitch.

Joel doesn’t move. Doesn’t step back. But his eyes darken just enough to make my stomach flip.

“You really wanna test me this early?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

The challenge sends a thrill down my spine. I grin, leaning in just a fraction, enough to feel the heat radiating off him.

“Maybe,” I whisper. “Depends on what happens if I do.”

Joel huffs a laugh—one of those deep, frustrated, you’re-gonna-be-the-death-of-me laughs. Then, suddenly, his turn to get close. He leans down, voice right against my ear.

“You keep pushin’,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my skin, “you ain’t gonna like what happens.”

My pulse jumps. My smirk falters—just for a second.

Joel sees it. And the bastard smirks.

Then he pulls back, grabbing his coffee, walking away like he won this round.

I exhale sharply, watching him go, my skin still tingling.

I really need to stop underestimating him.

—

I know he’s awake the second I step through the door.

The lights are dim, but Joel’s still sitting on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest, the other holding a half-empty beer. He looks relaxed—pretends to be, anyway���but his eyes flick to me the second I walk in.

I smirk. “You waitin’ up for me, Miller?”

Joel exhales sharply through his nose, setting the bottle down on the coffee table. “Just happened to be up.”

Uh-huh.

I ignore him, walking into the kitchen, feeling his eyes drag over me as I move. The dress I’m wearing is short, tight, and backless—very backless. My tattoo is on full display, the black ink running across, teasing the dip of my lower back.

I reach for a glass, pouring myself some water, letting the silence stretch, letting him look.

Finally, I hear him shift behind me. “Where the hell were you?”

I take a slow sip. “Out.”

“With who?”

I glance over my shoulder, raising a brow. “Didn’t know I had to check in with you, dad.”

Joel clenches his jaw. His fingers flex on his knee. “Y/n.”

I turn fully now, leaning against the counter, glass in hand. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” The lie is so blatant, so immediate, that I almost laugh.

I take another sip, watching him. “You sure about that?”

Joel doesn’t answer right away. His gaze flicks lower, over the curve of my back, the exposed skin, the ink. His jaw tenses even more—like he’s mad. Like the tattoo itself is personally offending him.

I set my glass down, smirking. “Something wrong?”

Joel exhales, drags a hand down his face. “You got no damn shame, you know that?”

I grin, stepping closer, closing the space between us. “And you got no damn claim,” I say, tilting my head. “So what’s your problem?”

Joel watches me, something dangerous flickering behind his eyes.

I lift a finger, tracing a slow, teasing line down my own spine, over the tattoo he won’t stop staring at. “You like it?” I ask, voice low.

His nostrils flare. His fists clench.

Then—just like always—he forces himself to lean back, to put space between us, to shove all that tension down deep.

I take my time walking past him, making sure he gets a real good look at what’s been driving him crazy all night. I can practically feel the heat of his stare burning into my skin, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of looking back.

Not yet.

Instead, I reach for my water again, taking a slow sip, just to draw this out a little more. Joel exhales, long and slow, like he’s trying to keep himself calm.

I almost feel bad for him.

Almost.

“You always go out dressed like that?” His voice is low, rough, like he’s forcing himself to sound casual.

I smirk against my glass. “You always staring at me?”

Joel lets out a sharp breath, but he doesn’t deny it.

I finally turn, leaning back against the counter, crossing my arms so my dress shifts even higher up my thighs. His gaze flickers, betraying him for half a second before he locks it back on my face.

“I just don’t get why you feel the need to—” He waves a hand vaguely at me. “—put everything on display.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Everything?”

Joel rubs a hand down his face, muttering under his breath. “You know what I mean.”

I grin. “What, you don’t like my tattoo?”

He clenches his jaw. “Ain’t about the tattoo.”

I tilt my head, watching him closely. “Then what’s it about?”

He doesn’t answer.

I push off the counter, closing the space between us, slow and deliberate. “Is it the tattoo, or is it the fact that other people got to see it?”

Joel tenses. Just a flicker. Barely noticeable. But I see it.

And I know.

I smirk. “That’s it, isn’t it?” My voice drops, just above a whisper. “You don’t like that someone else got to look at me like this.”

Joel’s breathing is heavier now, his fists clenched at his sides. “Go to bed, y/n.”

I step even closer, close enough that I can feel the heat of him, smell the faded whiskey and aftershave clinging to his skin. “Make me.”

His jaw flexes. His hands twitch. For a second, I think he might actually do something, might finally snap and grab me, kiss me, claim me like we both know he wants to.

But then—

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face before turning away from me. “You’re a damn brat, you know that?”

I grin, victorious. “And you love it.”

Joel mutters something I don’t catch, shaking his head, still refusing to look at me.

I lean up on my toes, just enough to whisper near his ear. “Sweet dreams, Miller.”

Then I turn and head toward my room, my steps slow, unhurried, knowing damn well he’s watching.

Knowing damn well he won’t sleep tonight.

Not yet, anyway.

—

Joel is a walking contradiction.

Always looking out for me, always acting like I’m some damn problem he’s gotta fix. But then, when he thinks I’m not paying attention? He watches me.

Like right now.

I’m sitting on the tailgate of his truck, sipping a gas station soda, swinging my legs while he loads up the last of the supplies he picked up. The summer heat is thick, sticking to my skin, making me feel slow, lazy.

Joel, meanwhile, looks like he’s one deep breath away from losing his patience.

“Where’d you run off to last night?” he asks, not looking at me.

I smirk. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

That gets me. I raise an eyebrow. “You are keepin’ tabs on me.”

Joel exhales, setting down a case of water a little harder than necessary. “Just know when you start trouble.”

I grin. “Who says I started trouble?”

He gives me a look.

Fair enough.

I take another sip of my drink, watching him work, the way his shirt clings to his back, damp from the heat. My stomach tightens, and I blame it on the weather.

“You got somethin’ to say?” he mutters, not turning around.

I smirk. “Nope.”

“Then quit starin’.”

I laugh, kicking my feet against the truck bed. “Oh, that’s rich.”

His jaw tightens. “What’s that mean?”

I tilt my head. “Means I see you lookin’, too.”

Joel freezes.

It’s quick. A small thing. But I notice.

For the first time, he actually looks at me, really looks. And there’s heat there, burning under all that restraint.

I set my drink down, hopping off the tailgate, stepping close—too close.

“You ever wonder what’d happen,” I murmur, “if you stopped pretendin’ you don’t want me?”

Joel’s breath is slow. Measured. He doesn’t step back. Doesn’t move.

“You don’t know what you’re askin’ for,” he says, voice low, gruff.

I tilt my head, biting back a grin. “Maybe I do.”

Something flickers in his eyes. Something dangerous.

For a second, I think maybe—maybe—he’s gonna snap. Gonna grab me by the waist, drag me in, let all that tension finally break.

Instead, he just exhales, long and slow, before stepping back.

“You’re trouble,” he mutters.

I grin. “You like trouble.”

Joel shakes his head, mumbling something under his breath as he turns away.

But his hands? They’re clenched into fists.

And that tells me everything I need to know.

—

Joel’s been trying to ignore me all damn day.

Which, honestly? Fair. I’ve been making it real hard for him.

I’m leaning against the counter in his kitchen, the space between us just enough for me to feel that slow, simmering tension that’s been building up all afternoon, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt and a pair of—well, that’s the game, isn’t it?

Joel walks in, fresh from a shower, hair damp, t-shirt clinging to his chest just enough to make me look. He barely glances at me as he grabs a water from the fridge, pretending I’m not there.

Like I’ll just let him get away with that.

“You ever gonna put on some damn clothes?”

I smirk, not even looking up. “I am wearing clothes.”

Joel exhales sharply, taking a long sip of water. “Not enough.”

That makes me grin. Gotcha.

I stretch, letting the hem of my shirt ride up just a little. “Oh, relax. It’s just a t-shirt.”

Joel scoffs, finally looking at me. His eyes flicker down, slow, then back up, jaw tightening. Yeah, he noticed.

“Guess,” I say suddenly, watching him.

His brow furrows. “What?”

I sit up, tilting my head. “Guess what I’m wearing underneath.”

Joel exhales, shaking his head. “Not playin’ this game, y/n.”

“C’mon.” I stretch, making sure the hem of my shirt lifts just enough to tease. “Just one guess.”

“Clothes.”

I grin. “Not much of ‘em.”

That does it. His grip tightens on the bottle, jaw going stiff. He still doesn’t turn around, but I see it—the way his shoulders tense, the way his breath goes a little heavier.

But then, to my surprise, he plays along.

Joel finally turns, slow, lazy, eyes dragging over me in a way that makes my stomach flip.

Slow. Controlled. Like he knows exactly what this is doing to me.

And I feel it—his presence filling the space, the heat between us thick and undeniable. Joel stops just a breath away, too close for comfort, but I don’t move. I won’t.

“You’re awful pushy tonight,” he mutters, eyes dark as they settle on me.

I tilt my head, not backing down. “You’re awful curious for someone who doesn’t wanna play.”

Joel’s eyes drag over me, deliberate and slow, as if he’s taking in every inch, every detail. Then, like he can’t help himself, he leans in a little more—close enough that I feel the warmth of his body, the weight of his presence.

His breath hits my cheek, and I’m sure my heart skips a beat. I freeze, barely able to keep my focus.

The space between us is thick with something heavy, something that has my pulse racing, but Joel’s not moving. He’s standing there, looking at me like he’s debating something—maybe whether or not to keep playing. I keep my eyes locked on his, deliberately challenging, just to see how long he’ll stand there before he breaks.

I know he can feel it too—the weight of the air between us. It’s thick. Electric.

But I’m not the one to crack first.

I lean back a little, letting my hands slide across the cool counter, trying to act casual, like I’m not aware of every inch of space between us, of how close he’s standing now.

Joel doesn’t say anything for a while. He just watches me—his eyes intense, like he’s studying every move I make, waiting for me to slip up.

And then, in one smooth motion, he steps forward, close enough that I feel his presence without him even touching me. Just the weight of his gaze, the pull of his body.

I freeze for a second, breath catching in my throat. Damn it.

He doesn’t rush—he never does. Joel’s always deliberate, calculating. But I can see it now, the way his lips press together, the faintest twitch of his jaw like he’s trying to hold something back.

Without saying a word, his hand moves slowly to the bottom of my t-shirt. His fingers brush against the fabric, barely grazing the skin of my thigh. The touch is light—almost too light—but it still sends a shiver through me.

I stay still, even though every part of me is aware of what he’s doing, of the way his hand hovers, teasing, as if he’s testing my patience.

“Alright,” he drawls, voice lower now. “Guessin’ you want me to say somethin’ like… lace?”

My mouth goes dry.

Oh.

I wasn’t expecting that.

I recover fast, tilting my head. “Maybe.”

Joel takes a slow step closer, his eyes locked on mine, like he knows he’s caught me off guard. Like he’s finally flipping the script on me.

“Red?” he guesses, voice all deep and rough.

I swallow. “Wrong.”

“Black, then.”

I press my lips together, refusing to react.

“Bet they even have a little bow”

Joel just huffs a quiet laugh, taking another slow sip of water, looking way too satisfied with himself.

I narrow my eyes, sitting up. “You think you’re real smooth, huh?”

He just shrugs. “Ain’t that hard, darlin’. You’re an open book.”

And then, just as I’m about to respond, he shifts again—moving in, just enough to make the back of his hand brush mine. The contact is so light, but I feel it like a damn spark.

His lips are so close to my ear now, and I know he’s teasing. He’s testing me, waiting to see what I’ll do.

But I don’t move. I hold my ground, staring up at him, willing myself not to let the heat get to me.

“I hate to break it to you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “but you ain’t nearly as subtle as you think you are.”

I try to keep my cool, but there’s a hitch in my breath.

Joel steps back then, like it’s nothing. But I can feel the pull, the weight of what just happened. I know he’s not done with this—not by a long shot.

—

Joel is pissed.

I see it in the way his shoulders tense as he shoves open the bar door, his grip firm around my wrist, dragging me outside like I’m some wayward kid in need of a lesson. The humid Texas night air wraps around us, thick and sticky, but it’s nothing compared to the heat burning between us.

“What the hell was that, y/n?” Joel snaps, letting go of my wrist just to turn and face me, standing toe-to-toe like he’s ready for a fight.

I roll my eyes, crossing my arms. “I was having a drink, Joel.”

“You were flirtin’ with every damn guy in there,” he growls, his hands landing on his hips like he’s holding himself back.

I smirk, tilting my head. “Oh, that’s what this is about? Didn’t realize you were keepin’ tabs on me.”

Joel huffs, his nostrils flaring as he shakes his head. “I am keepin’ tabs on you. Tommy asked me to keep an eye on you, and you—” He gestures toward the bar behind us, exasperated. “You don’t make it easy.”

I laugh, the alcohol warming me but not enough to dull the way my pulse spikes at his words. “I’m twenty-five, Joel. I don’t need a damn babysitter.”

“Well, you sure as hell act like you do,” he shoots back, eyes dark and burning with frustration.

That gets me. My spine straightens, my chin tilts up, and suddenly, I’m really not in the mood for this conversation.

“Excuse me?” I take a step closer, poking a finger against his chest. “I don’t belong to you, Joel. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

Joel exhales sharply, like he’s trying to get a grip, but it’s useless because I can see it—the tightness in his jaw, the way his fingers flex at his sides, the way his eyes flicker down to my lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back up.

Oh, he hates this.

Hates that I push him.

Hates that I get under his skin.

Hates that he wants me.

“I didn’t say you belonged to me,” he mutters, voice lower now, rougher.

“But you sure as hell act like it.” My voice is quieter too, the space between us shrinking, the air crackling.

Joel clenches his jaw, breathing hard, and for a second, I swear he’s about to say something—admit something. But instead, he just lets out a frustrated growl, dragging a hand down his face.

“You drive me crazy,” he mutters.

I grin, stepping even closer, my chest nearly brushing his. “Yeah? And what’re you gonna do about it?”

Joel goes still.

I see it—the moment something shifts between us, the way his breathing changes, the way his fingers twitch like he wants to grab me, pull me closer, do something about it.

But instead, he just exhales sharply, turns away, and runs a hand through his hair like he’s trying to physically shake me off.

“Get in the damn truck.”

I laugh, but there’s something breathless about it, something shaky. Because if he had made a move—if he had snapped—I don’t know if I would’ve stopped him.

Hell, I know I wouldn’t have.

But for now, I just smirk, walking past him with a slow sway in my step, knowing damn well he’s watching me.

And as I climb into his truck, I wonder just how long it’ll take before Joel Miller finally breaks.

—

Sometimes, Joel does the dumbest shit, and I can't help but laugh at how he digs himself deeper without even realizing it. I've been pushing him all night, just little jabs here and there, watching him get more and more frustrated. It's my favorite game-seeing how long I can mess with him before he finally cracks.

But this time? This time, he really crossed a line.

He thinks he knows what’s best for me, and the way he treats me like some helpless kid? It drives me insane. I’m 25, not a teenager, but he always acts like I need someone to babysit me. It’s honestly infuriating.

But I guess he just couldn’t let it go anymore.

I’m standing there, crossing my arms, staring him down as he tries to come up with something to say, but all he can do is look at me like I’ve broken his favorite damn toy. He’s so damn stubborn, but right now, there’s something in his eyes I’ve never seen before—guilt.

Then, out of nowhere, Joel drops to his knees in front of me.

What the hell?

For a moment, I just stare at him, caught off guard.

I'm not even sure what he's doing, but the way he looks up at me-like he's some kind of punished dog-throws me off balance. He's trying to make a statement, I can tell. He's not embarrassed, but he's also not letting this go.

"I messed up," Joel says, his voice gravelly, as he slowly slides his hands up to rest on my thighs.

I blink at him, not sure how to react. The tension is different this time-this isn't about him giving in; this is something else entirely. There's no fear in his eyes. No submission. He's still the same stubborn bastard he's always been, but there's something else there too-something challenging.

He wants to make things right, but he's doing it on his terms.

"You're not sorry enough for this to work," | tease, holding back the grin that's threatening to break free.

He smirks, eyes flicking up to meet mine. He's still got that damn cocky attitude, even with me standing over him, and I don't know whether I want to slap it off him or kiss him.

Maybe both.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, his hands tightening on my thighs, but there's no hesitation in his voice. "But I'm not getting off my knees until you know I'm serious."

I let out a laugh, not backing down, my body giving off every signal that I'm in control. "And what's that supposed to mean? You think this is gonna impress me?"

His grip on my thighs tightens, pulling me in closer, and now I can feel the heat of him through the fabric. But instead of giving me an inch, he's still staring up at me with that damn challenge in his eyes.

"You want an apology? You got it," he says, voice low and steady. "But l'm not some puppy you can just command. Don't think for one second you're gonna play me like that."

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued despite myself. I was expecting him to grovel, to at least try to show some weakness. But Joel? Joel doesn't do weakness.

"I never said you were a puppy," I murmur, looking down at him with a smile that's too smug for my own good. "But you are on your knees."

His eyes darken as he holds my gaze, not backing down, not even a little. "Yeah, and I'm here because you deserve the apology, not because I'm asking for permission."

The heat between us shifts again, and it's not the playful teasing anymore. It's something more-something a little darker, a little more real. He's not going to give in, but he's also not letting me win either.

"So, what do you want?" l ask, my voice almost a whisper, the challenge still there but mixed with something else.

Joel doesn't hesitate. "I want you to stop testing me and accept that I'm not going anywhere."

And for just a moment, it feels like he's got me right where he wants me.

But then, I realize-he's not the only one who knows how to play this game.

"Well, if you're so eager to apologize," | start, running my fingers through his hair, "maybe you can make it up to me in a way I actually want."

Joel looks up at me, his hands still gripping my thighs as his breath catches. There's a flicker of something in his eyes-something wild, but also totally surrendered.

"Name it."

The words land between us with the weight of a promise. And for the first time, I feel the air between us change completely. I step back, my body a little off balance from how suddenly he's shifted everything.

But damn, if that doesn't make my heart race.

And then—

His hands are on me.

Gripping my waist, dragging me in hard, pinning me against the wall like he can’t hold himself back another second.

“You happy now?” His voice is low, rough, wrecked. His breath is hot against my lips, his hands firm, possessive on my hips.

I grin, breathless. “Ecstatic.”

And then he’s kissing me.

It’s not soft. It’s not slow. It’s everything he’s been denying himself—all the tension, all the frustration, all the goddamn hunger crashing down on us at once.

I moan into his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. He groans, deep and low, like he needs this, like he’s craved this for so long it’s driven him mad.

His hands slide lower, gripping my thighs, lifting me effortlessly against him. I wrap my legs around his waist, gasping as my back presses harder against the wall, his body solid and hot against mine.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he growls, dragging his lips down my jaw, my neck, biting just enough to make me gasp.

I laugh breathlessly, tugging his head back up, eyes locked on his. "Took you long enough to admit it."

Joel glares at me, but there's something wild behind it now, something dangerous. "You got no idea what you just started."

I smirk, running my fingers down his chest, feeling the way his breath shudders at my touch.

"Then don't stop," | whisper.

And he doesn't.

—

It’s like once we started, we couldn’t stop.

Every touch, every look, every little moment of tension we used to ignore? Now it’s all fire.

It starts in the kitchen. I brush past Joel to grab a glass of water, my fingers barely skimming his arm, and I swear I hear his breath hitch. It’s subtle, but I know him. I know how much I get under his skin.

And then, before I can even turn around, he’s on me.

One hand grips my waist, the other presses into the counter beside me, caging me in. His body is warm against my back, his breath hot against my ear.

“You do this on purpose,” he mutters, voice low, rough, like he’s barely holding himself together.

I smirk, tilting my head slightly, just enough that his lips graze my neck. “Do what?”

Joel exhales sharply, his fingers tightening on my waist. “Brat,” he murmurs, but it sounds wrecked, like he’s already given in.

And he has.

Because in the next breath, he spins me to face him, pressing me against the counter. His hands grip my hips, his body hot against mine, and I can feel the tension rolling off him.

“You’re playin’ with fire,” he warns, lips barely an inch from mine.

I grin, dragging my fingers through his hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp.

Joel groans, kissing me.

Hard.

It’s desperate, messy, like every ounce of restraint he had is just gone. My hands tangle in his hair, pulling him impossibly close, gasping into his mouth when his fingers dig into my skin.

We barely make it to the hallway before he grabs me again, pressing me against the wall, his mouth never leaving mine.

“You just can’t help yourself,” I murmur against his lips, breathless.

Joel groans, his forehead pressing to mine, his grip firm like he's staking a claim. "Neither can you."

And he's right. Because the second we're alone again, I'm on him-hands in his hair, pulling him down, both of us too far gone to stop now.

Because now that we've started?

We're never stopping.

—

I leave the bathroom door open on purpose.

And the glass shower door? Yeah, that stays cracked, too.

The hot water cascades down my body, steam curling through the air, fogging up the glass just enough to blur the edges but not enough to hide me. I know Joel’s home. I know he’ll walk past. And I know he won’t be able to help himself.

It takes a minute, but then—there he is.

I catch the movement out of the corner of my eye, the way he pauses in the doorway. I can’t see his face through the steam, but I know that look—the one where his jaw tightens, where his fists clench like he’s fighting every urge in his body.

I smile to myself and tilt my head back, letting the hot water pour down my neck, dragging my hands slowly over my skin.

Joel exhales sharply. “Jesus Christ, y/n.”

I bite my lip. Bingo.

There’s a beat of silence, thick with tension. And then—I hear him move. The rustle of fabric. The soft clink of a belt buckle. The sound of a shirt being pulled over his head.

My pulse spikes.

The shower door swings open wider, and suddenly—Joel is there.

Steam clings to his skin, droplets forming against the hard planes of his chest, his broad shoulders.

His eyes are dark, locked on mine, his expression somewhere between exasperation and something dangerous.

“You really are a damn brat,” he mutters.

Before I can reply, his hands are on me, gripping my waist, pushing me gently but firmly against the cool tile. His body is hot, solid against mine, his breath warm against my skin as he leans in.

“You left that door open on purpose,” he accuses, voice rough, wrecked.

I smirk, fingers sliding up his arms, feeling the tension there. “Maybe.”

Joel exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.” But there’s something else in his eyes now—something wild, something hungry.

His hands grip my hips, fingers pressing hard into my skin, and he kisses me.

Hard.

It’s desperate, messy, like he’s been waiting for this, like every ounce of restraint he’s ever had just snapped. I moan into his mouth, pressing up against him, feeling the heat of his body, the way his hands roam, gripping, claiming.

"You gonna keep playin' games, sweetheart?" he mutters against my lips, his voice rough with need.

I grin, breathless, pulling him closer. "Always."

Joel groans, his forehead pressing against mine, his breath heavy, his fingers digging into my skin like he needs this.

And then he kisses me again.

And this time, neither of us stop.

—

The first night back in my apartment should feel good. Should feel like a breath of fresh air. No more waking up to Joel grumbling in the kitchen, no more stolen flannels, no more him lurking in doorways like he’s just waiting for me to do something reckless.

But it doesn’t feel good.

It feels wrong.

I don’t like waking up alone. I don’t like the quiet. I don’t like that Joel just let me go without a damn word.

So I do what I always do. I go looking for trouble.

And I find it at his doorstep.

Joel barely reacts when he opens the door and sees me standing there, arms crossed, wearing one of his shirts I forgot to return. His face is unreadable, but I know him. I see the way his shoulders tighten, the way his jaw clenches.

“What’re you doin’ here?” he asks, voice low, cautious.

I step inside without waiting for an invitation, brushing past him like I belong there. Because I do.

“I dunno,” I say, throwing myself onto his couch. “Figured I’d see if you missed me.”

Joel exhales sharply, closing the door, rubbing the back of his neck like he’s already tired of this conversation. “Y/n—”

“—You didn’t even call me.” I cut him off, watching him carefully.

He shakes his head, pacing like a man who’s got too much in his head and no idea how to get it out. “Didn’t think I needed to.”

I scoff, leaning back against the cushions. “Bullshit.”

Joel stops pacing, pinches the bridge of his nose, and mutters something under his breath.

“What?” I push, sitting up. “Go on. Say it.”

“You know why,” he says, finally looking at me. His eyes are tired. Guilty. “I shouldn’t have—I shouldn’t have let things go as far as they did.”

I laugh. A short, bitter thing. “Let things go as far as they did? You mean you finally gave in? You finally admitted you wanted me?”

Joel clenches his jaw, turning away, but I’m already off the couch, already closing the distance between us.

“You do want me,” I say, softer now. “You just don’t want to let yourself have me.”

He doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t say a word. Just stands there, looking like a man at war with himself.

“You think it was a mistake?” I ask, my voice steady even though my chest feels tight.

Joel doesn’t answer right away. And that silence? It kills me.

Finally, he exhales, voice rough. “I think it ain’t fair to you.”

I stare at him, disbelief creeping in. “Fair? That’s what you’re worried about? Jesus, Joel, I’m not some kid you need to protect. I know what I want.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t get it—”

“No, you don’t get it,” I snap. “I waited for you to stop fighting it. I waited for you to stop treating me like I’m too young, too reckless, too much for you. And the second you let yourself have me, you run?”

Joel’s breathing is heavy now, his hands flexing at his sides like he doesn’t know what to do with them. “I ain’t runnin’—”

I step closer, forcing him to look at me. “Then what the hell do you call this?”

His face twists, something breaking behind his eyes. “I call it tryin’ to do right by you.”

My chest aches. God, he’s so damn stubborn.

“You don’t get to decide that,” I say, softer this time. “You don’t get to make that choice for me.”

Joel looks at me, looks through me, and I see it—that need, that longing, that war inside him.

But I won’t beg.

So I take a slow step back, swallowing down the lump in my throat. “Fine,” I say, voice carefully even. “You wanna push me away? Go ahead. But don’t you dare pretend it’s for my sake.”

I turn, heading for the door, my heart hammering in my chest.

And I wait.

I wait for him to stop me.

But the door closes behind me, and Joel lets me go.

—

I should slam the door in his face.

I should.

But I don’t. Because it’s Joel. And even after everything—even after he let me walk out that door without a fight—I still want him.

And the bastard knows it.

He stands there, looking rough around the edges, like he hasn’t slept. He rubs the back of his neck, shifting on his feet, like he doesn’t know how to say whatever it is he came here to say.

“I fucked up,” he says, finally.

I snort, arms crossed. “No shit.”

Joel exhales, glancing down for a second before his eyes meet mine again. They’re dark, tired, but honest.

“I was scared,” he says, voice lower now. “Ain’t used to wantin’ something this bad. Ain’t used to thinkin’ maybe I could have it.”

That stops me.

Because this? This is new. This isn’t Joel pushing me away, telling me I’m too young, too much, too reckless. This isn’t him trying to convince himself he doesn’t need me.

This is him admitting that he does.

I swallow, my throat tight. “You can have it, Joel. But not if you keep pulling this shit.”

He nods, like he knows, like he’s been sitting with that realization since the second I left.

I should make him work for it. Make him suffer a little. But then he steps closer—slow, cautious, like he’s making sure I don’t shut him out first.

And when he speaks again, his voice is hoarse.

“Come back.”

It’s not a demand. Not a plea. Just Joel laying it all out, raw and real, for me to decide.

I let out a slow breath, studying him, making him wait.

Then I step forward, just enough that I can tilt my chin up and brush my lips against his—light, teasing, cruel.

His breath hitches. His hands twitch at his sides, like he’s dying to touch me.

And I smirk. “Took you long enough.”

Joel groans, grabs me, and finally—finally—kisses me like he’s making up for every second he wasted.

[antinousletmehit]

˚₊‧꒰ა Chapter 23 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

⋆˚࿔ Book 2 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

୨୧┇pairing: Telemachus x reader

୨୧┇I’m gonna get killed for this chapter, character death…

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ─── Telemachus paced furiously through the ruined village, his hands clenched into tight fists, his breathing ragged. The fires still burned around them, the scent of blood thick in the air, but he didn’t care. All he could think about was him. Raphael had been right there. Right there. Wounded. Weak. He could have ended him. He could have killed that bastard and taken her and Adonis back where they belonged.

And yet—he had let him slip away. Again.

“Damn it!” Telemachus roared, driving his fist into the nearest wall. The wood splintered beneath his strength, but the pain did nothing to soothe the rage boiling inside him. His chest heaved, his body trembling with frustration, with regret, with an overwhelming sense of failure. Florus and Acrisios exchanged a look before stepping forward cautiously.

“Telemachus,” Acrisios started, his voice level but firm. “Enough.”

“Enough?!” Telemachus spun on them, his blue eyes wild with fury. “I could have killed him! I could have ended all of this tonight, and now—” His breath shuddered as he ran a hand through his sweat dampened hair. “Now he’s just going to run back to her, to my son—” His voice broke on the last word, rage giving way to something rawer. Florus placed a steady hand on his shoulder, but Telemachus shrugged it off, his body still thrumming with barely restrained anger.

“I should have finished it,” he growled, his jaw tightening. “I should have killed him right then and there.”

Acrisios sighed, crossing his arms. “And what then?” he asked, his tone calm, almost weary. “You think just cutting him down would have magically fixed everything? You think Skiaphos would have just let you walk out with y/n and Adonis without a fight?”

“I don’t care!” Telemachus snapped, stepping toward him. “I would’ve fought them all if I had to! I—” His breath hitched, his body shaking with barely contained frustration. “I’m tired of waiting. Tired of sitting around while that bastard plays house with my family.”

Florus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before stepping in front of him again. “Telemachus, I get it. Gods, I get it. But going in blind is going to get you killed, and then what?” He gestured vaguely at the smoldering ruins around them. “You want y/n to trade one captor for another? You think Adonis needs to grow up knowing his father got himself killed because he couldn’t think straight?”

That hit like a punch to the gut. Telemachus exhaled sharply, his shoulders slumping just slightly. He turned away from them, his hands still shaking as he tried to force himself to breathe. “I can’t keep waiting,” he murmured, voice raw. “I won’t.”

Acrisios placed a hand on his shoulder this time, firm and grounding. “Then we plan. Properly this time. No more reckless fights. No more wasted chances.”

Florus nodded. “We’ll get her back, Telemachus. Both of them.”

Telemachus swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he stared at the distant horizon—the direction Raphael had fled.

Next time, there would be no escape.

——

The Greek camp was alive with the scent of burning wood and the distant sounds of wounded Skiaphian prisoners being corralled together. But none of that mattered to Eurymachus—not when he was admiring his prize.

She was a young Skiaphian woman, terrified but silent, her dark eyes darting between him and the others as she sat stiffly near his tent. Eurymachus smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. Finally. After all the bloodshed, the long campaigns, the endless nights of fighting, he earned this.

Cassander, however, had other thoughts. “Oh, come on,” Cassander groaned, throwing up his hands. “This is bullshit.”

Eurymachus arched a brow, turning to him with an amused smirk. “Excuse me?”

Cassander jabbed a finger at him, then at the woman. “I did the most fighting today. Who was the one holding the front line? Me. Who took down three Skiaphian warriors while you were fumbling around with some half dead old man? Me.” He gestured wildly. “By all rights, I should get her.”

Eurymachus scoffed. “Oh, please. You got lucky. And besides, you already have a bad habit of losing your war prizes, Cassander.” He smirked, jabbing him in the ribs. “Maybe I should hold onto this one for safekeeping.”

Cassander looked deeply, personally offended. “Excuse me?!”

The two of them started bickering, voices rising as they shoved at each other, completely forgetting about the war prize in question.

And then—Druses arrived.

The moment his towering form loomed over them, both Eurymachus and Cassander immediately shut their mouths. Druses crossed his arms, his purple eyes narrowed with deep, exhausted irritation. He let the silence hang for a moment before finally speaking.

“What,” he said slowly, “are you idiots fighting about?”

Cassander and Eurymachus both started talking at once. “She should be mine—”

“No, I deserve her—”

“I did the most killing today, obviously—”

“Oh, shove it—”

Druses sighed through his nose, his expression darkening as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Gods above, I hate you both.” Then, without another word, he grabbed the war prize by the arm, yanked her to her feet, and started leading her away.

“Wait—what the fuck?” Eurymachus sputtered. “Where are you—?”

Druses shot them both a sharp, withering glare. “You’re grounded from war prizes. Maybe if you two learned how to shut up and act like warriors instead of spoiled children, you’d earn them back.”

Cassander blinked, his mouth opening and closing like a fish before he turned to Eurymachus. “Did—did we just get grounded?”

Eurymachus groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Un-fucking-believable.”

——

Eurymachus and Cassander were sulking.

It had been hours since Druses unfairly took their war prize, and neither of them were handling it well. They lingered near Druses’ tent like stray dogs, watching as he kept the woman near him—their woman, mind you—as if she was some fragile thing that needed protecting.

“This is bullshit,” Cassander muttered under his breath, arms crossed as he scowled. “We earned her.”

Eurymachus nodded vehemently. “Exactly. Druses didn’t even do anything. He just walked over, took her, and now he’s acting like he’s her fucking guardian or something.”

Cassander scoffed. “We should just take her back.”

Eurymachus grinned. “I like the way you think.”

The two of them strutted toward Druses, who was standing with his back turned, arms crossed as he kept an eye on the war prize. The moment they got close enough, Cassander reached out to grab her wrist— And was promptly kicked straight in the chest.

Cassander let out a wheeze as he was sent flying backward, landing in the dirt with a pathetic grunt. Eurymachus had just enough time to blink before Druses swung around and kicked him too, sending him crashing down right next to Cassander. Druses glared down at them, unimpressed. “I told you two idiots to quit it.”

Eurymachus groaned, rubbing his chest. “Gods, you kick hard.”

Cassander groaned in agreement, still sprawled in the dirt. “I think he cracked a rib.”

Druses rolled his eyes before turning away, clearly thinking the conversation was over. Cassander and Eurymachus exchanged a look. Then—

“Alright,” Eurymachus whispered. “New plan.”

They scrambled up, lunging forward again— Druses elbowed Eurymachus in the face without even looking, sending him straight back down. Cassander managed to get a hand on the woman’s arm before Druses grabbed him by the back of the tunic and threw him like a sack of grain.

The two of them groaned on the ground, again, glaring up at Druses, who merely crossed his arms, looking deeply unimpressed. “You’re both pathetic,” he deadpanned.

Before they could launch another complaint—

A tense, heavy silence fell over the camp.

Eurymachus and Cassander froze. Druses tensed slightly. Even the war prize shifted uncomfortably. They didn’t need to turn around to know who had just arrived. Slowly, they looked over their shoulders—and there stood Telemachus.

And he looked furious.

His jaw was clenched, his blue eyes stormy, his posture rigid as he stalked toward them. His sword was still strapped to his hip, his hands twitching like he was dying to use it. Eurymachus and Cassander immediately straightened up, all traces of their whining gone.

Druses exhaled sharply through his nose, giving them both a look before stepping forward. “Something happen?” he asked, his voice the only one daring to break the silence. Telemachus’ gaze flicked to him briefly before settling back on Eurymachus and Cassander. The two of them stiffened under the weight of it.

“Get your shit together,” Telemachus ordered, his voice low, dangerous. “Now.”

Neither of them hesitated.

“Y-yes, sir,” Eurymachus stammered.

Cassander nodded quickly. “Of course, boss. You got it.”

Druses just sighed, rubbing his temples. “Idiot children,” he muttered.

——

The camp was quiet, save for the crackling of dying fires and the occasional murmur of restless sleep. The scent of blood and smoke from their recent raid still clung to the air, but exhaustion had forced even the most hardened warriors into slumber. Telemachus lay on his side, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his breaths deep but never fully relaxed. He didn’t trust the silence. He never did.

And then—

A sharp whistle.

A second later, a flaming arrow slammed into one of the tents, setting it ablaze.

Then another.

And another.

Shouts erupted as men jolted awake, confusion twisting into panic as the fires spread.

“AMBUSH!”

The warning cry barely had time to leave someone’s mouth before Skiaphian warriors surged into the camp, blades gleaming under the firelight. The Greeks scrambled for their weapons, still sluggish with sleep, as the enemy descended upon them like vultures. Telemachus was up in an instant, sword drawn as he narrowly dodged a spear aimed at his chest. He swung, cutting the enemy down, his mind snapping into battle mode.

A few feet away, Cassander was still wrestling his way out of his bedroll when a Skiaphian soldier lunged at him. “Wait, wait, I’m not even awake yet—!” He barely managed to roll aside, grabbing his shield and bashing it into the attacker’s face.

Eurymachus, on the other hand, had simply punched the first guy he saw, still half-asleep. “Who the fuck—” He finally registered what was happening, eyes widening. “Oh. Oh, shit.” He grabbed his sword just in time to block another strike.

Druses, already on his feet, was grinning. He twirled his twin daggers in his hands, purple eyes gleaming under the firelight as he dove into the fray. He cut through the enemy with brutal efficiency, laughing under his breath. “Oh, Enyo’s going to love this.”

Florus had woken up swinging, his movements precise and controlled, but there was a deep-seated frustration in his eyes. “I knew we should’ve set up more defenses,” he muttered, slashing an enemy down.

Acrisios had barely gotten his helmet on before he was forced into a clash, his strikes heavy and merciless. “Where the fuck did they come from?!”

“They must’ve followed us from the last raid,” Telemachus gritted out, driving his sword into another soldier’s gut before turning to scan the battlefield. The camp was in chaos. Tents were burning, men were shouting, the sound of metal clashing filled the night air.

And then—

From the trees, more Skiaphians emerged. Telemachus’ eyes narrowed. They weren’t just here to fight. They were here to finish them. And he’d be damned if he let that happen. “Everyone—hold the line!” he roared, gripping his sword tighter. “We end this now!”

And with that, they charged.The camp was hellfire. Smoke and ash filled the air, mixing with the scent of blood and sweat. The Greeks fought viciously, their initial sluggishness from sleep now fully burned away by the raw instinct to survive. But the Skiaphians weren’t relenting. They pushed harder, their numbers greater than expected, their blades seeking Greek throats, their arrows finding flesh.

And then—

A roar cut through the chaos.

Antinous.

He stormed into the fray like a wrathful beast, his sword already drenched in enemy blood. His long red cloak billowed behind him as he slammed his blade through a Skiaphian’s chest before violently ripping it out. His eyes were wild, teeth bared in a snarl. “Oh, finally!” he growled, cutting another enemy down.

Cassander, still mid-fight, snorted. “Late as always—” He had to duck as Antinous swung his sword a little too close to his head.

Antinous smirked. “Whoops.”

Telemachus was cutting through enemies with precision, his face grim, focused. “We need to push them back!” he called out. “They’re trying to surround us—”

Then a Skiaphian spear whizzed past his face. His eyes snapped to the source—Florus, standing his ground, striking down an enemy, his movements fluid. But then—

It happened too fast.

A blur of motion.

A blade—jagged, brutal—piercing through Florus’ stomach from behind.

For a moment, it was like the battle paused.

Florus stiffened, his breath catching as blood dripped from his lips. His green eyes widened—not in fear, but in stunned realization. His sword slipped from his fingers.

Then—

The Skiaphian soldier twisted the blade. Florus let out a strangled gasp, his body jerking forward. Pisistratus turned just in time to see it happen. “FLORUS!”

But before anyone could react, the enemy ripped the blade out and shoved Florus forward. He collapsed onto his knees. His breath was ragged, uneven. Blood seeped through his armor, staining the ground beneath him.

Antinous, who had just cut down an enemy near him, turned—then froze.

Florus’ body swayed.

Then—he fell.

“No—!” Acrisios dropped his weapon and lunged forward, catching Florus just before he hit the ground. His hands pressed against the wound, desperate, shaking. “Florus, stay with me—stay with us—”

Florus’ lips parted, but no words came out—only a weak, shuddering breath. Telemachus was already hacking his way toward them, eyes dark with fury. Antinous, silent for the first time—just stared. His grip on his sword tightened so hard his knuckles turned white.

Cassander and Eurymachus, who had been bickering just moments ago, stood frozen in place. Druses, blood dripping from his daggers, glanced over—and his expression darkened.

The war still raged around them, but in that moment, none of them cared.

Florus was dying.

And the Skiaphians were about to pay for it.

@procrastination20 @jackiepackiee @barrythestrawberry041 @blessedbyahuntress

@f3r4|frOgg3r @permanently-nothere

@eyuunho @jackintheboxs-world @simpingmyassoff @sunshinewhosketches

@sugarlillycookie @kaguraaaa @doodle-with-rhy

@0anodite0 @cocosparkel @tati-the-fangirl

@dazedemery @tsmaruchan @xo-cuteplosion-xo

@galaxygurIll @pjopinkk @h0ne4bee

@minteaspoon @zendoesstuff @yuvany @i-liketoast

[fkinkindagauche]

Somebody Has to Arrange the Matches

This is a prompt fill for @steddiebingo Round One, prompt "Dustin Henderson". Full fic on AO3.

Rating: Explicit | WC: 5,398 | CW: None | Tags: Dustin Henderson parent trap, gay Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington speed runs his sexuality crisis, first kiss, mutual pining, friends to lovers, frottage

Summary: Dustin is adamant that Eddie Munson deserves to find love, after all he's been through. Once Dustin figures out some things about Eddie, he gets to work making it happen.

divider by @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Eddie was being cagey again.

It had become Dustin's personal mission now that Eddie was out of the hospital to get the man a girlfriend. As far as Dustin could tell from his probing questions to the Corroded Coffin guys, Eddie had never had a girlfriend, which was honestly shocking to Dustin. Sure, Eddie could be pretty over the top, but everyone liked him. And it wasn't like he was ugly. So he must just be too shy or something. Dustin wanted to help.

Dustin currently had him cornered in Gareth's garage, away from the rest of the group. They'd just finished a D&D session at Gareth's house, with a Corroded Coffin practice scheduled after. Dustin, Lucas, Mike, and Will were waiting for Steve to pick them up before the practice started. Dustin was doing his utmost to get Eddie to go out with one of Robin's band geek friends, but Eddie was resisting all of his attempts.

"Henderson, no." Eddie sounded exactly like Steve did after Dustin had asked for a ride about ten times, trying to get a no to magically change to a yes. "I'm not going to ask Veronica out."

"Why not?" Dustin asked, voice raised. "She's a huge nerd, she flirts with you, like, non-stop, and she's hot."

Eddie sighed. "I'm just not into her."

Dustin groaned, tugging his hands through his hair in frustration. "Are you into anyone? Every time I bring someone up, you shoot the option down."

"Well, I don't like your options, bud. They're not good options."

"That's objectively false!" Dustin yelled. "Most guys would kill for some of the options I've presented!" Why did Eddie have to be like this?

"How can it be objectively false?" Eddie shot back. "It's literally my opinion. The definition of subjective."

Dustin glared at him. He hated when Eddie tried to outsmart him. He hated how often it worked. Steve drove up just as Dustin was opening his mouth for a rebuttal.

"Thank the fucking Lord," Eddie muttered. "Please take this young whippersnapper off of my hands before I kill him," Eddie yelled to Steve when he got out of his car.

"Oh, great," Steve said. "Can't wait to spend the next 15 minutes with a feisty Henderson in my car."

God, they were both such turds sometimes. Dustin sighed loudly and stomped over to Steve's car. "This isn't over, Munson!" he called over his shoulder. Eddie flipped him off in response.

He grabbed the passenger seat before Mike, Lucas, or Will even made it to the car, much to their chagrin. Steve chatted with Eddie for a few moments, Eddie leaning into his space as per usual, slinging an arm over Steve's shoulder.

Dustin leaned over and honked the horn.

"Really, Dustin?" Steve yelled, hands on his hips.

"Some of us have places to be!" Dustin yelled back.

"Where do you have to be?" Lucas asked from the backseat.

Dustin shrugged. "It's the principle of the thing."

Steve spent a few more moments talking to Eddie, probably just to piss Dustin off, then came back to the car.

Dustin gave Steve 30 seconds to adjust, watching the time tick by on his watch. He'd been told off one too many times for immediately starting an interrogation, so this was his compromise with the world. As soon as his watch hit the 30 second mark, he started in.

"So why doesn't Eddie ever date anyone?" Dustin asked, talking over whatever conversation Mike and Will had been having in the back.

Steve glanced at Dustin with a confused expression on his face. "What?"

"From the intel I've gathered, Eddie's never had a girlfriend," Dustin said. "He turns down all of my suggestions for potential dates. But if anyone deserves a girlfriend, it's him. He's, like, a hero. I want to help him find his Suzie."

"Excuse me, what am I? Chopped liver?" Steve interjected. "Why aren't you trying to find me a girlfriend?"

Dustin rolled his eyes. "You've had a million girlfriends, Steve. Give some of the other poor dudes a chance."

"Yeah, Steve. You're kind of hogging the eligible young women of Hawkins," Mike piped up from the back seat.

"I haven't had a girlfriend since Nancy," Steve protested.

"But you do still get around," Dustin insisted.

"Whatever, man." Steve shook his head. "Why don't you let Eddie do his own thing? Maybe he's just picky."

Dustin crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back, not responding. Steve was wrong. Eddie deserved his own Suzie. And Dustin wasn't going to give up on helping him find her.

"So I saw this girl the other day at the arcade," Dustin started. He and Eddie were at the trailer, painting some miniatures. It was his mom's night working late, and Dustin had started spending it with either Eddie or Steve on alternating weeks.

Eddie groaned. "Not again, Henderson. Can't we go, like, one day without this shit?"

"But Eddie! I think you'd really like her. She had a mohawk. Dyed pink. And her nose was pierced."

Eddie dropped his head into his hands, smearing some red paint on his cheek. He stayed that way for a few moments, quieter for much longer than usual. Dustin worried for a moment that he might have broken him. When Eddie finally looked up, his face was serious in a way it almost never was. He reached out for Dustin's hand.

"Dustin. I'm about to tell you something, and you cannot freak out about it. And you can't tell anyone else about it, either. Am I clear?" Usually, Dustin would have thought a joke was coming after an intro like that from Eddie. But he seemed completely earnest this time, so Dustin actually considered what he'd asked.

"What about Suzie?" Dustin asked. "Can I tell Suzie?"

Eddie sighed. "Yeah, you can tell Suzie."

"Alright," Dustin said. "I agree to your terms. No freak out, no telling anyone other than Suzie."

Eddie nodded. "Okay." He took a deep breath and looked away. "I'm gay, Dustin."

It took Dustin a second for his brain to parse what he'd just heard. Eddie. Heavy metal band member, dungeon master Eddie.

"I'm sorry, you're what?" Dustin squeaked. He must have misheard.

"I'm gay," Eddie repeated. "Queer, fruity, a homo, a friend of Dorothy, a fairy. I like men. That's why none of your options have sounded remotely appealing to me. That's why I've never had a girlfriend."

Dustin sat back in his chair, stunned. A lot of things were making sense now.

"Oooookay," Dustin said, nodding. So now he had to find Eddie a boyfriend. More difficult, but he liked a challenge. "So what's your type? We can find you a boyfriend."

Eddie barked out a laugh, throwing his head back. He looked relieved. "Are you serious? That's your only question, what's my type?"

"Of course that's not my only question, who do you think I am?" Dustin was a little offended. "That's just my most pressing question."

"I think this is the best response I've gotten so far to coming out," Eddie said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair.

Dustin felt pretty good about that. "Well? Are you gonna answer?"

Eddie chuckled. "I should've known this wouldn't make you give up your weird crusade." He pulled a few strands of hair in front of his mouth, chewing on the ends while he thought. "My type? I'm not totally sure, honestly, haven't had much of a chance to find out, living in Hawkins. I guess probably my height or maybe shorter, but not much taller. On the masculine side of things, almost the jock physique. Hairy. Brunette."

Dustin nodded after each characteristic, mentally taking note. "Those are all physical things. What about personality?"

Eddie had to think a little harder about that one, looking into the distance. "Um. Kinda goofy, I guess? Not too macho. Sense of humor." Eddie trailed off and looked at Dustin sharply. "Henderson, if you go around asking the men of Hawkins if they're queer so you can try to find a date for me, you're gonna get beat to shit."

Dustin held up his hands. "You really think I'm that stupid? Give me some credit here, Eddie."

"You have a track record of failing to read the room, man," Eddie pointed out.

That absolutely wasn't true. Dustin was very tactful. He could be quite subtle when he wanted to be. Eddie just never got to see that side of him.

"I'll be careful," Dustin insisted. "I'm not gonna ask anyone if they're gay."

"Alright," Eddie said, but he didn't look convinced. Dustin would show him.

The idea hit Dustin the next week, when he was spending his mom's late work night with Steve. They were out by the pool, and Steve's hairy chest was on full display, with all of its muscles. Dustin had Suzie, and she didn't want him to be muscular, but sometimes when he saw Steve's chest he couldn't deny the twinge of jealously.

Hairy. Muscular jock physique. Something was tickling at the back of Dustin's mind. Brunette. What was that? About as tall as Eddie.

Oh shit. Dustin dropped his Dr. Pepper as Steve yelled "COWABUNGA" and did a cannonball into the water. Kinda goofy.

It was Steve. Eddie had basically been describing Steve. Did Eddie even know? Had he been secretly pining after Steve this whole time? Or was it still subconscious?

Holy shit. But Steve liked girls. How was Dustin gonna make this work? Did he need to find a Steve doppelganger somewhere who was gay?

Steve popped out of the water, shaking his hair. He looked up at Dustin and the Dr. Pepper spilled all over the patio. "Everything alright there?" Steve asked. "You look like you saw a ghost."

Dustin nodded. "I- I'm good. Everything's fine!"

Steve shrugged and dove back under the water.

Dustin did some research over the next few days. If he was going to find a gay Steve doppelganger for Eddie, he needed to understand the culture - where he could find other queer people, the types of phrases they used to identify each other without being too blatant, that kind of stuff.

He tried finding books at the library, but came up empty-handed and probably on some sort of list the librarian kept of degenerates. So he had to resort to asking Eddie where he got all his information.

"Why do you wanna know?" Eddie asked with a suspicious glare.

"I just wanna understand you, man!" Dustin insisted, putting on his most innocent expression. "You're my friend, I wanna know what's going on with you."

Eddie reluctantly handed Dustin some zines he'd picked up in Indianapolis. "None of the raunchy stuff," Eddie said. "I'm not getting arrested for dealing gay pornography to minors."

Dustin made a disgusted face. "You could have just… not told me you even had raunchy stuff."

Eddie shrugged. "Where's the fun in that?"

Dustin spent hours that night poring over the zines, learning the lingo. He discovered an incredibly interesting fact in one of the zines - the existence of bisexuality. You could like both men and women. You didn't have to be either gay or straight.

This fact blew Dustin's mind, and the seeds of a different plan took root. What if Steve was bisexual, and he didn't even know it? That would be the easiest, most logical solution to the Eddie problem. Steve was Eddie's type; so what if Eddie was also Steve's type?

He talked about it with Suzie the following evening. She'd been shocked to learn that Eddie was gay. Mormons weren't exactly accepting of homosexuality. But she'd always played a little fast and loose with certain aspects of Mormonism, so Dustin was able to bring her around to the idea eventually.

"I don't know, Dusty Buns," she said as they were discussing his idea about Steve. "I don't think you can just make someone be bisexual."

"I'm not gonna make him be bisexual," Dustin insisted. "I'm just gonna try to show him that he already is."

"But what if he isn't?" she shot back.

"Then I'll go back to the doppelganger plan," he said with a sigh. "But I have to try. This is the simplest solution. Occam's razor."

"Dusty Buns, you know you're not using that correctly right now," Suzie scolded.

Dustin sighed. She never let him get away with anything.

Dustin paid a lot more attention to Steve and Eddie's interactions over the next few weeks. Now that he knew Eddie was gay, he couldn't believe he'd missed the signs pointing to his crush on Steve.

Eddie gravitated to Steve like a moth to a flame. It was like he had some sort of Steve-related sixth sense, his head immediately turning toward Steve whenever the man walked into a room.

He was a tactile guy with everyone, but whenever Steve was around, it was always Steve that Eddie was touching. Every time Dustin looked at the two of them, Eddie had a hand somewhere on Steve - slung around his shoulders, resting on one of his arms, brushing against one of his legs to get his attention.

Steve didn't seem to mind at all. He leaned into the physical contact, touching Eddie back almost as often as he was touched. They smiled at each other all the time. They got each other drinks and snacks and just in general acted like a goddamn couple. How had Dustin missed this?

He was gonna need to accelerate his timeline. These idiots needed to get together ASAP.

Read the rest of the fic on AO3.

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

Can I request a non con fic with Marc? We had one with Steven, can he get one too please?

Yes, yes you absolutely can! >:)

Made for him

Yandere!Marc Spector x fem!reader

Cw/triggers: Darkfic, tied up reader, dead dove do not eat, implied kidnapping, non-con/dub-con, p in v sex, fingering, obsessive and possessive behavior, yandere themes, Marc is scary.

Marc couldn't wait any longer, he had to have you. Breaking into your house was a piece of cake for him, and even easier was getting you immobile in your own bed. Fuck, even with handcuffs and tape on your mouth you're so beautiful to him. You couldn't look prettier.

He dragged his fingertips sensually up your exposed thigh, hooking them under the waistband of your panties as he kneeled down next to you.

"You had no idea, hm? No fucking idea what you did to me, honey?" Marc murmured close to your face, his fingers pushing your panties to the side. "Well, let me show you exactly what." he promised darkly.

In response you tried pushing your legs close, knowing what he's going to do to you and squirmed.

Marc sucked in a breath. "Don't do that, sweetheart..." he threatened lowly. Fear made you immediately open your legs back up.

His hand found your pussy, making you tense up as his fingers were fidgeding around with your folds until they've gotten wet.

Marc chuckled lowly. "Aw, are you scared?" he grinned down at you, one of his fingers found its way inside you without a clear warning, making you gasp into the tape at the sudden intrusion.

You tried closing your legs reflexively again, but he tsked in response.

"Nuh-uh, none of that again. Keep 'em open."

The finger inside you brushed against your spot, having you moan softly and buck your hips slightly at the feeling.

Marc smirked when he felt your cunt getting wetter and wetter, adding a second finger to stretch you open, pumping them steadily.

He listened to your soft moans and wet noises, his fingers curling inside you, stroking the spot until your eyes rolled back.

"Fuck, listen to your cute noises. I bet you'd fucking lose it with my cock inside you." He murmured, feeling your hips arching up for more despite your inner struggling he knew you have.

"But unfortunately I can't remove that tape if you're going to scream your lungs out."

Marc removed his fingers, leaving you there whimpering at the loss as he got up, walking around to step at the edge of your bed where your feet are.

"Mmh, you look like a fine piece, ready for me and all mine." You watched him palming himself and slowly undo his pants, shaking your head frantically.

When Marc noticed your unwillingness, he reached for your ankles, pulling you towards him and freeing his aching cock.

"Oh yes you're getting it now. I've waited long enough to get you." He said, lining his dick up with your pussy, running the tip along your wetness and gently nudging your cunt.

"Don't worry sweetheart, it will feel good." Marc promised and with that he surged forward, stretching you open on his cock, not stopping until he ground his hips against you.

He supported himself with both hands on either side of you, pulling out until just the tip remained only to thrust back in again.

"Shit, I knew you'd be perfect." He groaned, maintaining his deep pace.

Your fogged up brain couldn't help but make you arch up into him, the friction he gave you was simply way too good.

Marc chuckled at your obvious response. "Feels good, honey? Want me to keep pounding this pussy until your legs are jelly? Hmm?"

You couldn't suppress the near needy moan, you've gotten so cockdrunk that thinking gotten impossible.

Marc groaned at feeling you slowly submitting to him. "Yeah that's it, I won't stop until I've filled this pussy and it's dripping."

He leaned down, giving your jawline a quick kiss before moving to kiss and suck at the sensitive skin of your neck.

You had no doubt that those spots will turn dark purple giving how hard he sucked. Marc sped up and suddenly bit down, catching you by surprise with a strangled moan, feeling your belly fire up with your impending orgasm.

"You're so perfect, I'll never let you go." He murmured against your skin. He pulled back when he felt you tightening around him. "You're close? Good, wanna feel you cum on my cock, baby."

One of his hands trailed down between your bodies, slowly rubbing your clit, earning needy moans and heavy breathing from you as your orgasm approached.

"Come on, squeeze my dick with your perfect pussy, let me feel it before I fill you up.."

He put pressure on your clit, it made you see starts as you bucked up into him, with your orgasm ripping out of you, your pussy squeezing Marc's cock like a vice.

Marc's hips jerked, his breath coming out in gasps and with one last thrust, he groaned, releasing his hot cum into you before collapsing down on you with his face in your neck.

"Fuck... now you belong to me..." He breathed against your skin, slowly pulling his spent cock out of you but making no move to pull himself up.

After a while, Marc catched his breath and pulled back, supporting himself on one hand while the other sensually dragged two fingers along the tape covering your mouth.

"Wanna know what happens now?" He said lowly, almost ominously.

You swallowed hard, your eyes widened in fear as your mind slowly came back to reality and you shook your head while looking up at him with fear in your eyes.

Marc couldn't resist grinning at your fearful state, loving it how he had you at his mercy.

"I'll get you to my place, keep you there all for myself..."

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

Tags: @nekoyin @steven-grants-world @iolaussharpe-24 @buckyssugarchick @krakenkitty

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @stevendameron @xxjust-a-kidxx @klillaah @ingoldthewizard

@alexxavicry @mochiitoby @Xjust-a-kidx @silvernight-m

Wanna get tagged?

[boybandbaby]

A Love Like This (Evan Buckley x SingleMom!Reader)

word count: 2149

warnings/tags: scary Halloween decorations (monsters), motherly insecurities, sick child, as always if I missed anything please let me know

note: part of my single mom reader universes which can be found here

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

5 times your daughter prefers Buck, 1 time she prefers you

1️⃣

It was a nice summer day, good for a picnic at the park. Buck had the day off and promised to spend some time with you both this weekend as he’d been so busy all week.

You packed a large blanket and a cooler of sandwiches, snacks and drinks for a few hours at the park. Buck had even brought some slices of cake he had made.

Evie helped you set up the blanket on a fluffy patch of grass while Buck carried all the other items.

“Do you want to play for a little bit then come and eat?” You asked, sitting down and kicking your shoes off.

“Yes! I’m not hungry yet.” She claps her hands.

“Alright, put on some sunscreen and you can go.” You beckon her forward. She groans, hating the feeling of the sticky lotion on her skin.

“Come on kid, sunscreen isn’t so bad.” Buck laughs, handing you a water from the cooler. “Make sure you stay close by, we’ve got to see you at all times.” Buck reminds her as you slather lotion on her face and arms.

“Do you want to go on the swings?” You ask, rubbing her arms. “I can come push you for a bit.”

“I want Buck to do it.” She demands, not unkindly.

“Hey! Why not me?” You pout.

“Buck has bigger arms and he’s stronger so he can push me higher and faster.”

“That’s probably true.” He shrugs.

“So mean you two.”

“Awe, don’t get jealous.” Buck teases, leaning down to peck your forehead. “Can’t help that I’m the favorite.” He shoots before picking Evie up and running off.

They’re both laughing as they run to the swings.

2️⃣

Buck had been lucky enough to get Halloween off this year. Most of the 118 decided to spend the night together and take the kids trick or treating. For most of the night Evie stayed by Jee and Mara’s side but when a particular house with some scary decorations came up, she refused to go up.

A soundtrack of eerie sounds, a fog machine, and all types of mannequins replicating movie monsters littered the yard.

“Babe, they’re just decorations. It’s okay to be scared but I promise nothing bad will happen.” You rub her back.

“Why don’t you walk between me and Chris?” Denny offers.

She shakes her head quickly and clings to your leg. “Do you want to skip this house?”

“I want to go with Buck.” She grabs his hand, leaving no room for argument.

Buck grins and holds her little hand in his. She stays behind his leg as she shuffles up to the door. Buck can see the bowl of candy on the floor in front of the monster on the rocking chair.

“Okay, keep your eyes closed and I’ll guide your hand to the bowl.” Buck kneels down and guides her hand into the bowl. Her other hand holds her bucket. She grabs a mini candy bar and throws it in her bucket. She finds Buck’s hand again as she pulls him in a jog back to you.

Buck lets out a dramatic breath, “That was so scary, he almost got us.”

“Did he really?” You raise a brow, laughing at him.

“No, Buck scared him away!” Evie looks through her candy bowl.

“With that face, I bet he did.” Eddie jokes causing Chris to laugh loudly and Buck to nudge his shoulder.

3️⃣

“Can we read a book tonight?” Evie slips off the couch and slips her feet into her slippers.

“Okay, go brush your teeth and pick out a book, I’ll be there in a minute okay?” You begin to fold the blanket as you stand.

Buck takes two corners and brings them together. You bring your side to meet his, receiving a cold, chocolatey kiss from him as he grabs the blanket and finishes folding by himself. He tosses the blanket onto the back of the couch.

You collect the bowls and spoons from the coffee table and began heading to the kitchen. Just as you’re washing the residue from your sundaes, you hear Evie’s feet pattering back into the living room.

“I got my book!”

“Alright babe, I’m almost done!” You shout back.

“Can Buck read to me instead?” You peek your head from around the kitchen wall.

“But I always read to you.” You don’t conceal your hurt this time.

“I know mommy but I like when Buck makes his funny faces and voices.” She hugs the book to her chest.

“Oh, okay. Go ahead then. I’ll be there later to kiss you goodnight.” You duck back into the kitchen to dry the dishes. You hear Buck telling Evie to go get settled and he would be there soon.

You then hear and feel him creeping into the kitchen behind you. His arms wrap around your waist and he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Baby…”

“It’s fine, Buck.” You lean your head against his. “Go read, I’ll get our bed ready.”

“You know she loves you and only wants me because she doesn’t get to see me all the time.” He ignores your previous comment and kisses your neck.

“You’re stealing all my mom duties!” You pout. “It’s not funny! You wormed your way into her little heart and she’s forgotten all about me.”

Through giggles he says, “That’s not true. You’re literally her entire world she just likes having me around. And I mean I’m really funny when I read to her.”

“Funny looking, yes.” You agree.

“Hey! Don’t be a jerk. Would you rather her absolutely hate me?” He pokes your sides.

“I guess not.” You sigh, “you better get in there before she comes back out and asks why you’re taking so long.”

“I know, she gets bossy like her mom.” He sticks his tongue out, the tip pressing to your cheek.

“You’re disgusting and I’m not bossy. Now go.” You push his stomach and swat his butt with the hand towel.

4️⃣

You’re spreading the Nutella onto the piece of bread when Evie comes out of the bathroom. She is already changed into some comfy sweats as she climbs into the seat.

“What worksheets do you have today?” You slide over her toast and cut up strawberries and bananas. “I have to do a math sheet and some reading.”

“Okay, which one are we doing first?” You sit beside her, stealing a piece of her fruit.

“Can Buck help me with my math?”

“He’s at work babe.”

“Can we call him?”

“We can try but he’s usually really busy. Don’t be upset if he can’t talk okay?”

She nods.

You: hey, are you super busy right now? Evie would like your help with her math homework 🥹

Buck: give me 5 minutes and I’ll give you a call

Buck: also hi gorgeous, I miss you ❤️

You: miss you too, can’t wait to see your cute face even if it’s through a screen 🥰

Buck gives you a FaceTime call a few minutes later. You scoot closer to Evie and prop your phone up so they can see each other.

“Hey kid! How was school?”

“Buck!” She says through a mouthful. “I made a new friend today.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me about it.” He grunts as he slumps into a chair.

“Mommy says you’re busy.”

He chuckles and nods, “okay, what’s the first question?”

She reads off the question and you can see him leaning forward to grab a pen on the table then a napkin.

Buck watches as she holds up her fingers and counts. She reminds him to hold his fingers up too.

“You’re super smart, Buck.” She mentions as she finishes the last few questions.

“Takes practice.” He shrugs.

“Or getting struck by lightening.” You raise a brow.

“What do you mean mommy?”

“Nothing, she’s just making a joke.” Buck gives you a look. Buck had mentioned getting stuck under the fire engine once while giving you two a tour and Evie refused to go near the engine. It took Bobby carrying her and letting her wear his captain helmet for her to finally sit inside the truck.

You hear the chimes and bells signaling Buck has to go for a call. “Be safe, we love you!”

“I will, I��ll call you before bed okay? I love you.” You can see him rushing downstairs and grabbing his gear with one hand.

“Thank you, Buck!” Evie shouts before the call hangs up.

5️⃣

“How’s my girl?” Buck says through the screen.

“She’s sleeping now but still has a fever and tummy ache.” You run your fingers through her hair as she rests her head on your thigh.

“Did you tell her that I’m coming over later?”

“Of course.” You roll your eyes, “she’s refusing to eat the canned noodle soup.”

“I can’t help that she likes my cooking.” He laughs.

“You got everything you know from Bobby.” You bite.

“Yeah whatever, she still likes my cooking better no matter where I learned it from.” You can see him pulling items from the shelves as he swerves through the grocery store.

“You don’t make me soup when I’m sick.”

“Oh come on, that’s not fair. You’ve been sick once since we’ve been together and you wouldn’t let me come see you.” He shakes his head.

“Is that Buck?” You hear from below you.

“Yeah baby, he’s at the store.” You feel her forehead.

“Evie!” Buck cheers through the phone. “I’m coming over to make my magic soup.”

“Can you hurry?” She whispers. “My tummy hurts.”

“I’ll be there soon, try to sleep some more okay?”

She nods and rests her head back down.

By the time she wakes up again, Buck is carrying her to the table.

“Buck? When did you get here?”

“A few hours ago, can you sit?” He kisses her forehead before setting her in the chair.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” She rubs her droopy eyes.

“Because you looked so cute sleeping.” You smile, setting her bowl in front of her. “It’s hot so don’t eat it just yet.”

“Do we have crackers?”

“Yup, made sure to get you the little ones you like.” Buck sits beside her, feeling her forehead.

“Can I have some water?” She shivers, scooting closer to Buck for warmth.

“Of course babe, how are you feeling?” You rush to the cabinet to pull out a cup.

“My tummy still hurts.” She curls in on herself. “And I’m hungry.”

Buck gives her a few crackers and spoons some soup onto the plastic Bluey spoon. He blows twice before bringing it to her lips.

“Good?” He searches her face.

“I feel better already.” She smiles, brushing her hair out of her face.

“Told you the magic soup always works.” He gives you a wink.

*️⃣1️⃣

“Where’s mommy?” Evie asks, skipping into the bedroom. Buck sits on the bed scrolling through the tv.

“She’s in the shower. What’s up?” Buck pats the bed. She walks over to the side he’s on and lifts her arms. He leans over to pick her up.

“Just want a hug.” He sits her in the middle of the bed, pulling the blanket over her lap.

“I’ll give you a hug.” He opens his arm.

“I want a hug from mommy. She has the best cuddles.”

“I can attest to that.” Buck smiles over at her. “I’m sure she’ll be out soon. Want to watch something with me?”

“Okay.” She nods and lays back against the pillows. Buck watches as she looks to the bathroom door several times.

“You okay?” He pats her knee.

“Yeah, mommy is taking a long time.”

“She’s just having some mommy time before bed.” He assures. “You sure you don’t want to snuggle with me? I can keep you warm until mom gets out.”

“No, that’s okay.” She sighs before resting her head back onto the pillow.

She lifts her head a few minutes later when the bathroom door opens and steam drifts out.

“Hey girly, what are you doing up?” You smile, adjusting your towel around your body.

“I want cuddles.” She pleads.

“Is that so?” You smirk at Buck as you trail over to the bed. “Guess, I’m good for something.”

Evie bolts up onto her knees and wraps her arms around your shoulders, climbing into your lap.

“I’m still a little wet on my shoulders, you might get cold.” You wrap your arms around her waist.

“Don’t care, just want a hug.” You smiles into your neck.

“Okay, whatever you say.” You kiss her cheek. “Feeling lonely over there Mr. Buckley?”

“Yes.” He immediately says.

“Come join our mommy cuddles!” Evie exclaims. Buck doesn’t hesitate to scooch up against your back and hug the both of you.

“Best cuddles ever.” He whispers into your ear.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

[cherry-coffees]

Labyrinth ~ Chapter 1

Vi x Reader

Premise: You, having grown up sheltered in Zaun, are taken in by Vander after the recent loss of your family - where you meet Vi. You fall hard and fast...until that fateful day when Vi leaves Powder. From childhood love to meeting again as adults, what will you and Vi become?

cw: 1.6K words | childhood crush!Vi, elements of girly girl!reader, teens now but will be adults in later chapters, no warnings for ch.1 <3

Lyric: "Lost In The Labyrinth Of My Mind" (Labyrinth, Taylor Swift)

“Alright!” Vander’s voice booms as the door to his place in the Lanes swings open.

His voice barely causes alarm, the teenagers barely sparing a glance at him as he enters. They’re used to his style of announcement by now. Powder doesn’t pay him any attention, going back to fidgeting with her work-in-progress monkey bombs. Claggor and Mylo’s eyes briefly flicker to Vander, mid-conversation about whatever they’re planning today.

The only one whose attention is stolen is Vi, powder-blue eyes landing on Vander as she shifts on the old couch, leaning forward on her elbows with curiosity. “What?” She runs a hand through her short, pink hair. “Got a new job for us?”

“Not this time,” Vander sighs. “Uh, actually, we have a new person coming to stay with us.”

This catches everyone’s attention. Powder’s eyes widen in curiosity while Vi’s narrow with suspicion. Mylo is the first to speak, standing from where he had been joking around with Claggor. “What the hell?!” He protests. “We don’t need another person taking up our food supply!”

“Are they any good at jobs?” Claggor’s eyebrows furrow in thought. “Why are we taking them in?”

Vander just lets out another sigh, rubbing his temple at the onslaught of questions. He holds up a hand to silence them. “Can we pause all the questions?”

“Woah, hold on?” Vi’s voice cuts through, expression hard. “Who is this person?”

Vander pauses, hesitating before glancing back at the door and holding out a hand. A signal. Your signal.

You enter tentatively, gaze darting around at the dark house and, of course, the people in it. You glance at each of the teenagers, none of whom seem too happy about your presence. “Um, hi.” You say uncertainly, giving your name as a form of greeting.

Mylo’s face has only contorted into more frustration, while Claggor and Powder just glance at each other. Vi, meanwhile, looks more surprised than anything. Her eyes are still narrowed, suspicious of you, but there’s a tinge of something taken-aback.

Not that you can blame her. You don’t look like you’re from the Lanes, not really. You’re from another part of Zaun, if only a little better off financially. Your hair is cleaner, skin just a little brighter. Not resembling a Piltovan, though — more of a sheltered Zaunite. Your features are softer, wider, more uneasy in this new environment.

Vander places a firm hand on your shoulder from behind, giving each kid a hard look. “Yes,” he confirms, restating your name. “She’s here, and she’s staying. I don’t want to hear of anyone-”  he shoots a particularly stiff look at Mylo “-giving her a difficult time. Teach her the ropes, and I’ll see you all tomorrow morning. Are we clear?”

His words are met with nods from everyone, though hesitant, and Vander takes that as his cue to leave after squeezing your shoulder reassuringly.

You fidget in the tense air, wide eyes darting to the floor before back up at everyone. It’s Powder who finally speaks, moving toward you in nervous outreach. “It’s nice to meet you,” she half-smiles up at you. “I’m Powder.”

Gods, she’s cute. You can’t help but smile back down at her. “Hi Powder. I like your hair, it’s so pretty.”

Powder seems to rejoice at the compliment, her smile immediately brightening. “Thank you!” She exclaims, already seeming to ease up. She then turns, gesturing to Claggor and Mylo at the table and Vi sitting on the couch. “That’s Claggor and Mylo,” she points at each of them respectively. “And that’s my sister, Vi.”

At her name, Vi stands and approaches you, crossing from the couch to the doorway where you stand with Powder. “What’s your deal?” She questions, more curiosity written in her features than she’d like to admit.

“What do you mean?” You tilt your head, almost innocent, blinking up at her. Man, she’s tall. You wonder briefly if she’s much older than you. 

Vi seems a little taken aback by your genuine innocence, but she persists with her questions. “Why are you here?” She lets her eyes drop down your figure, then back up again, lingering on the ribbons in your hair. “Staying with us.”

“Uh,” you hesitate, not having any idea of how to state this. “My family is gone.”

Dead silence.

Mylo and Claggor’s eyes have widened in surprise, clearly not expecting that blunt of an answer. Vi’s do, too, as she falters, unsure of what to possibly say in response to that. Powder’s yet again the one who breaks the silence. “I’m so sorry,” sorrow is etched on her features, and you feel your heart ache just a little.

“It’s okay,” you reassure her, disguising the tremble in your voice. You’re going through your own grieving, but right now, you can’t imagine this little girl worrying about anything in the world. Which, you suppose, is the opposite of the environment she’s been forced to grow up in. You drop down to her height. “Don’t worry about me. I’m here now, and-” you cast a glance at Mylo. “I’ll try to help you all as much as I can.”

“I like you,” Powder decides out loud, unable to help smiling back at you. Your soft eyes aren’t something she’s used to.

They’re not something Vi’s used to either.

Because gods, Vi has never quite seen anyone like you. Pretty, kind, soft. How are you from Zaun? She has to wonder to herself. She isn’t one to trust easily, having lost most people she loves at only fifteen now. But the way her younger sister looks at you like you’re hanging the moon right in front of her eyes — well, Vi’s more than a little intrigued.

“I’m sorry,” Vi clears her throat, and you meet her eyes as you straighten back up. “We have, um, similar stories if it helps at all. We’ll teach you the ropes, like Vander said, yeah?”

You bob your head once. “Yes.”

“Okay,” Vi exhales, gesturing to the bag on your back. “C’mon, I can show you the house.” You nod again, quickly taking the chance of acceptance into their little family. You can’t help turning to give a little wave to Powder as you exit the cramped front room, to which she beams at. Cute.

Vi leads you up some rickety stairs, gesturing almost lazily to a small bathroom as well as a room that appears to be Mylo’s and Claggor’s, before opening a door to another small bedroom. “This is where you’ll stay with Powder and I.”  She clarifies, facing you again while running a hand through her hair. “The bed on the left is mine and Powder’s. I think Vander set up the mattress on the right for you.” 

You nod once again, setting your bag down at the end of your mattress. “Right,” your gaze locks with hers once again. “Thank you. For showing me and for, you know, letting me stay.”

The barest of smiles inches up on Vi’s lips. “No problem,” she waves you off. “It’s not much, but uh,” her eyes drop up and down your figure once again, and the three words she had briefly thought of earlier seem to cement themselves in her mind. Pretty, kind, soft. “I guess I’ll just…” Vi backs out of the room, her tone turning almost awkward. “Let you get settled.”

“Right,” you blink. “Thank you again.”

This time, Vi can't help an actual half-smile. “Powder and I will be in later. Good night.”

“Good night, Vi.”

|------» ~~~ «------|

It’s only when Vi enters the front room of the house again, plopping herself back down on the couch with a huff, that Mylo starts. “You were easy on her,” he accuses. “Why? You’re only ever that nice to Powder, and that’s cause she’s young.” Powder flashes him a scowl, but he doesn’t pay her any mind. “You going soft on us, fearless leader?”

“No,” Vi joins Powder in shooting Mylo a deep glare. “She’s just…new, okay? I mean, look at her. She clearly has minimal experience. We need to teach her a thing or two.”

“Or twenty,” Claggor’s mumble can be heard across the room, to which Mylo gives Vi a pointed look.

“Fine, or twenty,” Vi rolls her eyes. “What’s it to you? Another pair of arms to grab more stuff during jobs. She’ll earn her own food when she learns the ropes.”

Meanwhile, Powder’s in her own little world, letting out a dreamy sigh. “She’s pretty. Do you think she’ll let me wear her ribbons?”

This constitutes a roll of both Mylo’s and Claggor’s eyes, but Vi grants her little sister a soft smile. “I’m sure she will. She is pretty,” she mumbles the last part under her breath.

Unfortunately for her, it’s a small room.

“Oh,” Mylo dons a smirk, eyebrows twitching in smugness. “You like-”

“No!” Vi shoots back, her softness immediately replaced by another glare. “I just mean — you guys saw how nice she looks. And how sweet she is with Powder,” she gestures to the blue-haired girl sitting on the floor. “She’s not a fighter. She’s different, different from me.”

Powder smiles at the thought. “Yeah, she’s nice too,” she concedes, but she still manages to sneak a teasing glance at Vi. “That’s why you’re in loooove~”

Vi buries her face in her hands and groans, unable to escape this interrogation. Claggor reaches over to high-five Powder, which she happily accepts. Meanwhile, Mylo isn’t quite done. “You mean, she’s like a little princess, and you like that. As close to a princess as anyone from Zaun can be.”

Vi turns her entire body to face Mylo, completely fed up. “What did I say about this look on my face?” She deadpans, pointing to her expression. “Now, shut up unless you want the last pick of chores.” 

Though, despite all her crowing, when Vi puts Powder to sleep that night, she can’t help a glance over at your peacefully sleeping form. And she needs to know: who, exactly, are you?

A/N: WOOO FIRST CHAPTER!

To clarify, this fic will show teen!Vi dynamics but most of the fic will be adults! Like a childhood love to adults AU :) There will be smut later BUT not as teenagers bc...no.

Was lowk nervous to post sooo please comment down below OR slide into my asks and lmk your thoughts <3

~Cherry 🍒

[hazelira]

at least, once

The night air is cold against my skin as I step outside, the weight of my luggage dragging behind me. The streetlights flicker faintly, casting long, lonely shadows across the pavement. Our house looms behind me, silent and still, like a graveyard of memories I no longer belong to.

My breath shudders as I exhale, watching it dissipate into the night like all the words we never said. I don’t look back. If I do, I know I’ll break.

Ni-ki is still inside. Maybe asleep. Maybe awake. Maybe standing behind the door, listening, waiting for me to change my mind. But we both know that won’t happen.

It hurts. God, it hurts.

But love doesn’t always mean staying. Sometimes, love is knowing when to walk away before the pieces left behind become unrecognizable.

I clutch the handle of my suitcase, my fingers trembling. I should have seen this coming—the way the late-night conversations turned into silence, the way his touch became hesitant, the way his eyes searched for something in me that wasn’t there anymore. Or maybe it was, and he just stopped trying to find it.

A tear slips down my cheek, and I let it.

"Maybe you won’t love me again," I whisper into the void, my voice cracking under my heartache. "But at least I got loved by you once, and that was the best feeling ever."

And with that, I take my first step away.

The suitcase wheels rattled against the pavement, a quiet echo against the stillness of the night. Each step away from him, from our love, felt like ripping apart a piece of myself. But I had no choice.

Ni-ki told me it was an accident. That the girl kissed him, that he pulled away. But all I could think about was—what if it wasn’t? What if, for just a moment, he forgot that I was his? I forgot that I was the love of his life, supposedly.

What if, years from now, we got married, had kids, built the future we used to dream of—and he saw her again? What if he still thought about her? What if, behind my back, he met her in secret and whispered apologies against her lips the way he should have whispered them to me?

The thoughts wouldn’t stop. They clawed at my chest, suffocating me. I didn’t want to live a life full of what ifs. I didn’t want to wake up every morning wondering if I was enough. Suppose I would always be enough.

So I left.

And now, the sun was rising over a Ni-ki-less future.

His POV:

The bed was cold when I woke up.

I reached out instinctively, searching for her warmth and familiar weight beside me. But all I found was space.

My heart dropped.

“Babe?” My voice was hoarse, sleep-rough, but there was no answer.

The air felt wrong. The silence screamed louder than anything.

I stumbled out of bed, my chest tightening as I rushed through our house. The bathroom? Empty. The kitchen? Empty. The front door—unlocked.

That’s when I saw it.

The missing suitcase. The empty closet.

She was gone.

A shaky breath left me as my knees hit the floor. My mind raced, replaying every last word, every last look. The way she trembled when I told her. The way her eyes darkened with thoughts she didn’t say aloud.

I thought she’d stay. I thought she would yell, cry, tell me she hated me, but still choose me anyway.

But she didn’t.

I pressed a hand over my mouth, my body trembling.

She left.

Forever.

Your POV:

The morning light creeps through the cheap motel curtains, bathing the dull room in soft gold. But no warmth reaches me. The sheets are stiff, the air stale. Everything about this place screams temporary—just like us.

I pull my knees to my chest, staring at my phone on the nightstand—no missed calls. No texts.

Ni-ki hasn’t called.

I don’t know if I should be relieved or shattered.

Maybe he’s still asleep. Perhaps he woke up, saw I was gone, and decided I wasn’t worth chasing. Maybe this is proof that I was right to leave.

But why does it hurt so much?

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to push away the image of him waking up, running through the house, calling my name—only to be silent.

Would he cry? Would he sit on the floor, his head in his hands, wondering where I went wrong?

Or would he… move on?

I bite my lip to keep the sob from breaking free.

I want to believe he’s hurting like I am, that this is tearing him apart, too. But I also want to believe that leaving was the right choice.

I can’t have both.

I press my forehead against my knees, swallowing the ache in my throat.

Maybe in another life, I would have stayed.

Maybe in another life, he wouldn’t have let me go.

His POV:

The house is too quiet.

Too empty.

It doesn’t feel like home anymore, not without her.

I sit on the floor, staring at the space where her suitcase used to be. My fingers dig into my hair as I replay last night repeatedly. The way her face fell when I told her. The way her lips trembled like she was holding back a scream.

She didn’t yell, throw things, or demand to know why.

She just… left.

I should have stopped her. Should have grabbed her wrist, pulled her into my arms, begged her to stay.

But I didn’t.

Because deep down, I knew—she wasn’t just leaving because of the kiss.

She was leaving because of what it meant.

She thinks I’ll do it again. That someday, years from now, she’ll be sitting at home with our kids while I’m out somewhere, lips pressed against another girl’s.

And the worst part? I can’t blame her for thinking that.

I never got the chance to tell her—tell her that it was never a choice, never a moment where I forgot she was mine.

Because forgetting her? Impossible.

She is in everything. The way the pillows still smell like her shampoo. The tea mugs on the counter that she always forgot to clean. The way the sun hits the window just right at this hour, the same way it used to catch in her hair when she sat in this very spot.

She’s everywhere. And now, she’s nowhere.

I reach for my phone, my hands shaking. I stare at her contact, my thumb hovering over the call button.

What if she doesn’t answer?

What if she does?

What if she’s waiting for me to fight for her?

I take a deep breath and press the call.

It rings once. Twice.

Then—

"The number you are trying to reach is unavailable."

The automated voice cuts through my chest like a blade.

She blocked me.

And just like that, I know—

She’s really gone.

His POV:

I keep staring at my phone, my mind racing with thoughts I can’t escape.

What if I never told her?

What if I had just swallowed the guilt, buried it deep inside, and let it rot within me instead of breaking her heart with the truth?

Would she still be here? Would she be curled up on the couch, waiting for me to wake up so we could eat breakfast together? Would I still hear her laugh echo through the house, still feel her fingers tangle in mine, still see the love in her eyes when she looked at me?

I told myself that honesty was the right thing to do. That I owed it to her. But now, I wonder—did I just ruin everything for nothing?

It wasn’t my fault.

I didn’t know the girl. I didn’t even see it coming. One second, I was standing there, and the next—her lips were on mine. Everything happened so fast. I pulled away immediately. I didn’t kiss back. I didn’t even hesitate before pushing her off me.

But none of that mattered, did it?

Because in her mind, the damage was already done.

She didn’t just leave because of the kiss. She left because she couldn’t live with the possibility of me hurting her again. Because she thought that someday, I would forget she was the love of my life.

But she was wrong.

I could never forget.

I press my palms against my face, squeezing my eyes shut.

If I had just kept my mouth shut, if I had just held her a little tighter that night and never let her feel like she had to run—

Would she still be mine?

Or would the truth have found its way out eventually, tearing us apart in an even worse way?

I don’t know.

And maybe I never will.

Your POV:

I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting in my car, hands gripping the steering wheel, staring at nothing.

The bags are still in the backseat, untouched. I was so sure when I packed them—so sure that leaving was the right thing to do. That I had to go before I convinced myself to stay in something that would only hurt me later.

But now, I don’t know anymore.

Ni-ki told me the truth. I didn’t even give him a chance to explain everything, to tell me what happened in full. I just let my mind take over, drowning in worst-case scenarios until I felt like I was suffocating.

And now, sitting here alone, I keep asking myself the same question.

Why do I always run?

Every time someone hurts me, even if it’s unintentional, even if they don’t deserve to be abandoned—why do I leave before they get the chance to fix it?

Ni-ki isn’t perfect. He made a mistake. But I know him. I know his heart. I know the way he looks at me, like I’m the only thing that matters.

I still love him.

I love him so much it terrifies me.

I glance at my keychain, my fingers brushing against the silver house key.

I still have it.

He didn’t change the locks. He didn’t throw my things outside. Maybe…maybe he’s waiting.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I grab the key and step out of the car. The cold air stings my face, but I barely notice as I make my way back to the house.

I stand in front of the door, hesitating.

What if he’s asleep?

What if he doesn’t want me back?

What if I’m too late?

I shake the thoughts away and slide the key into the lock.

The moment the door opens, my breath catches.

There he is.

Ni-ki is sitting on the floor in the dimly lit living room, his back against the couch, his phone hanging limply in his hands. He looks exhausted—eyes red-rimmed, hair a mess, his hoodie wrinkled like he hasn’t moved in hours.

The second he sees me, he freezes.

We stare at each other, time stretching between us, hearts hanging in the balance.

And then—

“...You came back.” His voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.

I nod, my throat tight. “I never really wanted to leave.”

He swallows hard, like he’s trying to hold himself together. “Then why did you?”

I step inside, letting the door click shut behind me. “Because I was scared.”

Silence. A thick, fragile silence.

Then he stands, his movements slow, careful, like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he moves too fast.

“I need you to know something,” he says, voice rough with emotion. “That night… I didn’t kiss her. I didn’t even see it coming. The moment it happened, I pushed her away. And the only thing I could think about was you. How much I love you. How much I—” His voice catches, and he swipes a hand down his face. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

I swallow the lump in my throat, my vision blurring. “I know.”

Ni-ki takes a shaky breath. “Do you?”

I nod, stepping closer. “I let my thoughts ruin everything before you even had the chance to explain. I ran because I thought it would be easier than staying and facing it. But I—” My voice wavers, and I look down, hands trembling. “I don’t want to keep running from the people I love.”

A pause. Then, a whisper. “You still love me?”

I look up, and for the first time since I left, I smile. It’s small, hesitant, but it’s real. “Yeah. I do.”

Before I can say anything else, Ni-ki closes the space between us, wrapping me in his arms so tightly it knocks the air out of my lungs. I bury my face in his chest, breathing him in, feeling his warmth, his heartbeat racing against mine.

He’s shaking.

“I thought I lost you,” he murmurs into my hair. “I thought I lost you forever.”

I close my eyes, holding onto him just as tightly. “You didn’t.”

And in that moment, I know—

We’re not perfect. We’ll make mistakes. We’ll hurt each other sometimes.

But love isn’t about running when things get hard.

It’s about finding your way back.

requested by: anonymous

my perm taglist<3 <- request here

@seonhoon @dollrincess @ethanatvre @rei4sunoo @shxhdsstuff @jakeflvrz @laylasbunbunny @jiiyen @saphiranishimurashan @lovelycassy @starry-eyed-bimbo @babyboomysweetie @24svnn @pinkglitterpuke @mellowgalaxystrawberry @dolliewon @s1rawb3rry @freaky-enhamadswriter @aishigrey @yangjungwonnie @lilmarsh-t @hoseokteardrop @mrsjjongstby @ro-diaries @ijustwannareadstuff20 @leilamaybelyla @celestialen @yejisuu @kpopslays @berryberrystrawbery @jungwon101

[sunwonkism]

A love that waited

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ ➪ Synopsis: After confessing at literally the worst time to Jungwon, you both made a promise to each other that in 3 years, if you still want one another, you will meet up in the same place you first met him.

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ ➪ Pairings: fem!reader x Jungwon

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ ➪ Genre: right person, wrong time

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ ➪ wc: 2.4k

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ ➪ Warnings: implied bsfs, angst, fluff, cursing, not proofread much

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ ➪ a/n: I rlly wanted to finish this for Jungwon's birthday, but it feels shitty🧍‍♀️this is inspired by this yt short from mr.spicygremlin! https://youtube.com/shorts/FXGZp_CDqj8?si=sWdKLUQUCs1K6Gsu I love her POVs and enjoy watching them!

January 29th, 2023

You were running in the airport, checking your watch every 5 minutes, trying to get to Jungwon’s gate before he got on his plane.

god, why did you only realize your feelings for him just 2 hours before he leaves for Singapore?

You stopped running to take a short break, panting to catch your breath. You checked your watch to see how much time you have left.

10:40am

His boarding closes in 10 minutes.

“Fuck” you muttered.

Where the hell is gate 12?

You saw a security guard patrolling the area and decided to ask him. “Excuse me” you tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to look at you before you spoke again. “Could you tell me where gate 12 is? The person at the front desk said it’s around this area, and I’ve been looking for it for the past 30 minutes.”

He simply gestured to the hallway behind you. “Just a 10 minute walk, you’ll be able to see a big sign that says the gate number.”

You thanked the guard before sprinting in the direction he pointed at.

You didn’t even need to look for the gate number, you spotted him almost instantly. He was on his phone, wearing the bright orange hoodie he loved so much.

“Jungwon!” You shouted, running over to him.

He was getting his ticket verified when he realized he recognized the voice calling out to him. He looked up to check, only to see that it was none other than you.

“Y/n?” He asked, confused. “What are you doing here?”

You stopped to stand in front of him, panting. “Sorry…could…could you give us just 5 minutes please?” You breathed out to the staff member attending to him.

“Only till the line ends.” She briefly responded, attending to the rest of the passengers while lightly pushing Jungwon so he wouldn't hold the line up. And to give you more time for whatever you needed to say to him.

You pulled Jungwon away from the line, to give you both a tiny bit of privacy.

Jungwon was the first to speak up. “So…why are you here? Don’t you have a date with Niki in like, an hou-“

“I’m in love with you.” You said as soon as you caught your breath.

He looked taken aback, you could tell he wasn’t expecting that. “What?” He asked, with confusion and shock written on his face

“I’m in love with you” you repeated. “I had to tell you before you leave. I felt bad when I just left you there after you confessed to me during our last hangout. A-and when you kissed me…I-“. You took a deep breath before continuing.

“The truth is, I was stunned when you told me that you loved me, and ran away when we kissed because I was afraid. I wanted Niki but I also wanted you. I didn’t mean to avoid you when you came to my house…I was just terrified because I wasn’t even sure what to do. I did some self reflection about it and I only realized this morning that…my love for Niki will never compare to the love I have for you. I had to tell you that while I still had the chance.” You confessed.

It was silent for a few minutes before he spoke. “Promise me something” he softly said.

“Anything” you replied, with hope in your eyes.

He held your hands in his before speaking again. “3 years from now, if you still want me. Meet me at the park where we first met at 12pm. You know, where I chased Maeumi down because he kept following you?”

You softly chuckled at the memory. “Okay, I will.”

You heard someone cough from beside you. You turned to look to see it was the staff member calling both of your attention. “Times up, you need to enter the plane now sir,” she said.

Before you can even say a word, you feel Jungwon pulling you into a tight hug.

“I will never forget you, okay? You will always hold a special place in my heart. So don’t forget about me, please.” he pleaded.

You hugged him back, equally as tight. “I could never forget about you, you’re my best friend”. You pulled away from the hug, opting to hold his hands before continuing. “And the first man I fell in love with” you finished, with a small sad smile on your face.

He was about to say something when the staff member called for his attention once again, signaling that he had to board the plane now.

He squeezed your hands before letting them go, silently hoping it won’t be the last time he’ll do it, before following the worker.

He turned around to make eye contact with you one last time, waving his hand at you. You waved back, watching him disappear into the bridge that leads to the entrance of the plane.

That was the last time you saw him.

3 years later…

You woke up to the sound of your alarm clock blaring loudly. You groaned before turning it off, laying back on your bed, already dreading the day ahead.

You were thinking how you really didn't want to go to work today when you heard your roommate, aka your best friend, scream from the other side of your door.

“Y/n wake up right now!!! Do you know what day it is??” yunjin shouted while continuously knocking on your door.

You sat up on your bed with your brows furrowed, utterly confused about what she's saying.

“Yunjin, what on earth are you talking about? It's a Saturday, and I have work?” you replied back to her while going to open the door so that she'll stop the annoying knocking on your door.

You opened your bedroom door to face yunjin before she spoke again.

“Y/n, you have absolutely no idea what today is? None at all?” She asked again with her hands on her hips.

You shook your head.

Yunjin sighed before pointing to the calendar hanging in your room. “Check the date, now.”

“Okay, geez” you mumbled. You walked over to your calendar to see a big red circle drawn around the number 29th of January, with bold letters reading “meet jungwon at the park at 2pm”.

Oh. My. God.

Today is that day?!?!?

You whipped your head around to look for a clock to see it's currently…10am?!?!?

“Shit, I knew I shouldn't have stayed up watching that tv show” you thought.

“I'm gonna be late” you muttered, before dashing to your wardrobe, picking something good to wear.

But then you remembered, you have work today.

“Noo” you whined.

“What is it?” Yunjin asked. You forgot she was still standing there.

You turned to her with a pout on your face. “I've used up all my leaves this month, if I ask for one more I might get fired.”

“Ahh” yunjin mouthed, before speaking. “Well, I know it's supposed to be MY day off today, but then I remembered your meetup with him today. So being the nice friend I am, l covered for you today. Thank me later”.

You squealed before hugging her tightly. “Oh yun thank you thank you thank you! I definitely owe you on this one.”

“Yeah yeah, don't waste anymore time or else you're going to be late.” She replied before pulling away from your hug.

“I'll be outside if you need anything” she said while walking away, leaving the room to give you privacy to change.

You looked back at your wardrobe and just decided to wear an outfit that never lets you down.

You quickly changed into the clothes and went to your vanity to fix up your appearance. Making sure you look the absolute best.

You took one last look at the mirror, making sure you look amazing before heading out of your room to put your shoes on.

“You're not gonna eat anymore?” Yunjin asked, chewing on a piece of bread as you walked past her.

“No time yun it's…” you trailed off, checking your watch.

“11am?!?, I'm so gonna be late” you said while rushing to put on your shoes.

After making sure you have everything you need, you grabbed your keys before going to the front door.

“Bye yun! I'll be going now!” You said, saying goodbye to yunjin.

“Good luck y/nie! Go get him!” You heard her reply, before closing and locking the front door.

“Thanks so much!” You said to the cab driver, giving him your payment before climbing out of the car.

You checked your watch to see it's 11:50, happy that you arrived at the park just in time. “Not bad” you thought.

As you were walking further into the park, you decided to spend the extra 10 minutes thinking about the current situation you're in.

You haven't really spoken to Jungwon in a long time. You lost contact with him when he started becoming busy because of school. When you tried texting him again, you realized he changed his number.

You're not even sure if he still remembers the promise you two made 3 years ago.

You've been having a lot of doubts about this meetup for a long time now. The only reason why you came is because you knew Jungwon is a person who hates breaking his promises.

But it doesn't mean he'll be like that forever.

What if he forgot? What if he doesn't want you anymore? What if he found someone better in Singapore? All kinds of bad thoughts raced through you as you arrived at the exact spot you first met him.

You checked your watch again. 12pm it reads.

“Right on time” you murmured.

Right now all you could do was wait.

This could go two ways. 1, he shows up and you two get your happy ending. Or 2, he doesn't show up, and you just wasted your time waiting for him.

Or 3, he shows up, solely just to let you know he doesn't want you anymore because he can't text it to you.

But from what's happening right now, you think number 2 is currently happening.

It's been 10 minutes since you started waiting for him. You were currently sitting on a nearby bench because your legs started hurting from standing too long.

You wondered if Jungwon got the place wrong, but you knew he couldn't. Or were you just in denial?

20 minutes passed by and he still hasn't showed up. You felt tears well up in your eyes. He forgot, or found someone long ago and couldn't care to tell you.

Just when you're about to get up and leave, thinking you wasted a whole 2 hours rushing over here and yunjin’s day off. Someone stepped in front of you and spoke.

“Am I late?” The person panted, sounding really out of breath.

You looked up to see who the person was, only to see the same man you've been waiting for 20 minutes (and 3 years) for.

He no longer had the dark brown hair you loved to run your fingers through. Now he had platinum blonde hair, which suited him really well.

You always told him how you thought he'd look good in blonde hair before he left.

“Jungwon” you whispered. “You showed up”. You were in utter disbelief that the man you loved and waited for so long is currently standing right in front of you. You felt like crying.

You hadn't realized a tear fell from your eye until Jungwon wiped it for you.

“Shh” he whispered. “It's okay, I'm here now” he said, before pulling you into a tight hug.

As you hugged him back, you let the dam break. Tears were flowing freely from your eyes. You were full on sobbing against his chest, soaking his shirt.

You two were like that for a few minutes before speaking.

“I..I th-thought you for…forgot” you said in between sniffles.

Jungwon pulled away to wipe your years. “I thought you knew I don't break my promises. Did you already forget?” He asked with a sad, but warm smile.

“I just thought…maybe you found someone else…I haven't spoken to you in months…it's hard not to doubt you know?” You mumbled, but clear enough for Jungwon to understand you.

Jungwon held your hands in his, something he deeply missed doing before speaking again.

“Don't you remember what I promised you pretty? ‘If you still want me. Meet me at the park where we first met’, that's what I said, didn't I?”

“I already decided it's you who I wanted 3 years ago. But I didn't want to start our relationship with long distance. And I wasn't sure if you really loved me or if you just said it out of the blue you know..” he trailed off.

He went back to caressing your cheeks with both of his hands.

“Thank you for choosing me. You have absolutely no idea how much I was stressing over today.” He said with a happy grin on his face.

You laughed before responding. “You have no idea how much I worried over this meet up too.” You said with a soft smile. “I have so many things I want to tell you. You missed out on so much stuff while you were away.”

He took one of your hands in his, swinging it around. He was slightly dragging you, signaling you to come along. “Oh yeah? How about you tell me over lunch? Where do you want to eat?” He asked.

You smiled, walking after him. “Sure, I heard there's a popular restaurant just 2 blocks away from here…”.

Divider: @toastray

[nana-luvy]

-> 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛

warnings: fem!reader, just fluff

“How have you, you of all people, never gotten to bake cookies ?” Luke asked with a gentle smile as he watched you tire yourself while whisking the thick paste.

You added a little bit of milk, as he instructed, before answering.

“I don’t know, my dad wasn’t really the baking type. Or cooking, really,” you simply said, straining a little against the rebelliously thick dough you couldn’t seem to get to tame. “I only ate cookies he bought sometimes.”

You and Luke had been chosen by the rest of the friend group to bake cookies for the upcoming movie night, a task you had absolutely dreaded ever since you’d told him you had never been anywhere near a baking instrument in your life. Connor had made sure there were enough supplies for a whole weekend of eating only snack and had then ushered you two to the sorta kitchen in the Big house, claiming Mr. D wasn’t here so you wouldn’t get in any trouble.

But the real reason why you dreaded the moment was because it meant you guys would be together alone for however long it takes to bake those biscuits, and it was not a situation you wholeheartedly enjoyed. Sure, Luke was your friend, and you loved him like that, but you just couldn’t bare the looks Silena threw your way anytime you were just remotely close, like there was something going on. And you knew very well you’d barely see a scene of the movie before she’d get you alone to debrief whatever nothingness had happened to feed her fantasies.

At least you’d got to learn how cookies were made, now. And boy was it difficult on your arm muscles, like a full blown workout Luke couldn't help but make fun of.

“Really? Well at least now you get I try for the first time in the best of compan-”

Luke's mouth parted in a surprised ‘o’ shape as, after you added a little flour to the mix, you sent it flying his way with a too harsh of a flick of your wrist.

“…sorry…” you muttered, unsure whether you should be mortified or dying from laughter as the boy looked at you with round eyes and white powder sprayed on his face and graying his hair.

His lips closed and opened again as he processed, his hand reaching for the whisk in your hand.

“Luke, look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to d- HEY-”

And as Luke’s mouth stretched into a smug smile when a small cloud of flour flew your way too, coughing out the small amount that got on your tongue, it quickly escalated and got out of hand. You seized the opened pack of flour, grabbing a handful before aiming for the brunette boy and painting his shirt white, before he snatched it from your hands and emptied half the content right above your head, decorating the wooden floor in the process.

And as ingredients flew everywhere but into the mixing bowl, you started thinking maybe baking was funnier than you thought at first.

Your banter eventually died down, panting heavily after you chased Luke around the kitchen island in quick circles while he just looked at you with the stupidest smile on his face. “See ? Pretty fun activity, right ?”

“I think we got side-tracked at some point…”

“How would you know, you never baked cookies before, have you ?”

You shook your head in disbelief, though paired with a soft laugh at his antics, while he could only grin ear to ear, finally stepping back towards you and the actual cookie dough still unfinished.

“I’ll help finish that up, pre-heat the oven, yeah ?”

But you tightly held onto the whisk as he motioned for you to hand it over. “No, I’ll do it, it’s fine.”

“What ?” he said with what could almost be described as a giggle. “You literally colored me white while trying to finish that earlier.” His fingers brushed yours as he tried to take the instrument from your tight grip. “Just let me do it ?”

And as you looked up to refuse while looking in his eyes, you found his eyes really quickly. Because they were really close. And all of a second, you were very aware of his chest pressing on your shoulder, of the small electricity jolts running up your hand where his fingers touched, and of the way his calm breath was hitting your nose from how close he was to your face.

You didn’t move for a moment there, letting the instant sink in, and as you looked right in his eyes you could’ve sworn his gaze had flickered to your lips for a split second.

You hastily removed your hand, letting the whisk clatter against the glass bowl. “I- Yeah, you’re right, I’ll just… deal with the oven. How hot ?” you asked, moving towards the over to put in the right temperature, weirdly wanting to put space between the two of you there.

“Really hot… Um shi- no, I mean, 325 degrees, 12 minutes.”

You set the right temperature, pre-setting the magnetic timer on the over door, before softly dusting the flour off your clothes, softly as to not break the silence that had suddenly fell on the room.

“Sooo… you bake a lot ?” you asked, not really good with awkward silence, trying to fill up the room as you fidgeted with your fingers.

“Baked, past tense. Used to with my mom, sometimes.”

“Oh…”

But even with the awkward beginning, the conversation went flowing right back, again with the harmless banter and casual memory-sharing until the chocolate-chip cookies were out of the oven and the others flooded the room, trying to eat your hard work already before the movie night even started.

As you sat on the other end of the couch, now, the iconic Drew Barrymore opening scene from Scream playing on the vintage TV, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at Luke on the other side of the sofa. And you heart quickened when your gaze crossed his, his head cocking to the side, and he sent you a knowing wink before turning his attention back on the movie.

Let’s say this time you were the one dragging Silena out of the room for a much needed girl talk.

Slowly getting back into writing, the hard part of the year is overrrrr

Love you all <3

- Nana

[lindsey-laufeyson]

Distractions- Chapter 18

Distractions Masterlist

Pairing: Reader x FWB!Tom Hiddleston

Series Warnings: SMUT, fluff, angst, friends with benefits

The next day at work you were exhausted and distracted, almost putting the wrong shade of foundation on two different clients and completely forgetting primer and setting spray on another. You never fell back asleep after you got home that morning and you spent the entire day constantly checking your phone to see if Tom had texted you, even though you told yourself you didn’t want him to. You needed space from him to get over whatever was going on with you. However, the longer the day went on without hearing from him, the more depressed you got. What the fuck was happening to you?

When you went to bed that night, you checked the On Demand Entertainment website to see if Tom’s interview was online yet. Sure enough, the video was just posted. You settled back against your pillow and pressed play. 

Tom was dressed in a classic white button down shirt with a navy suit jacket and trousers. He was also wearing his glasses, which usually meant he was too tired for contacts. Still, you always thought he looked especially sexy in his glasses. 

The interview started with the classically attractive blonde reporter asking about Tom’s latest projects. His face lit up as he answered her, like it always did when he talked about his work. It wasn’t long, however, before she began ramping up to ask him about his love life, at which point, he began fidgeting more than usual, touching his face, rubbing his thighs, adjusting his glasses, and running his fingers through his hair. 

“So Tom, many of your films and series revolve heavily around romance, something you seem to have quite the knack for on screen,” the reporter began. 

Tom blushed. “Well, thank you. You’re too kind, really.”

“But what about off screen,” she continued. “You would have a hard time convincing me that Tom Hiddleston doesn’t have someone special in his life.”

He shifted in his seat, crossing his legs as he laughed nervously. Your heart rate sped up a little bit. You told yourself it was just because you were nervous for him, but the truth was you were genuinely anxious about what he would say. “Actually, I am currently unattached,” he replied coyly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you a better answer than that.” He chuckled bashfully.

“In that case, I’m sure our viewers would love to know how you would describe your perfect woman,” she responded without missing a beat. You rolled your eyes. Hear we go, you thought.

Tom furrowed his brow and rubbed the pad of his index finger across his lips contemplatively. “Should have seen that one coming,” he joked. Then he blushed again and smiled, seemingly thinking of something. “I think my so-called ‘perfect woman’ is anything but perfect. Someone who is passionate, almost to a fault, who recognizes the beauty in everyone but herself, and who calls me out on things that no one else will because she sees me for who I truly am, not what the world makes me out to be.” His face lit up again, just like when he talked about his work. That usually didn’t happen when he talked about his personal life. Was he thinking of someone specific, or was he acting? You’d like to think you knew him well enough to know whether he was acting or not, but then again, he was incredibly talented. 

Once the video ended, you set your phone aside and stared at the ceiling, debating if you should text Tom or not. You definitely hadn’t cleared your head of those annoying thoughts and feelings from the night before, and you wanted him to be the one to text you first. Still, you were the one to leave abruptly this morning, and you should still be a supportive friend about his interview. After about an hour of wrestling with yourself, you finally picked up your phone.

Goddammit, you thought. So much for getting some space. 

A few minutes later, you heard Tom enter your house. “Sweets?” he called, looking for you.

“In here,” you responded from the bedroom. You continued scrolling through your phone, wanting to appear indifferent.

Your bedroom door was open, but he gave a courtesy knock on the door frame anyway. “May I come in?”

“I was under the impression that I didn’t have a choice,” you replied, never looking away from your phone screen.

He chuckled lightly and then flopped down next to you on the bed. He gave you a quick peck on the shoulder and then positioned himself so he was laying perpendicular to you, with his head resting on your stomach.  “Hi.”

“Hi.” Your eyes stayed on the screen.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or do I have to hold your phone hostage to get you to talk?” 

“You will do no such thing,” you told him firmly, still not looking at him. “You were the one who decided to interrupt my quiet evening.” He swiftly plucked your phone from your hands and tucked it underneath him, forcing you to finally look at him. “Oi!”

“Talk,” he commanded. 

“There is nothing to talk about.”

“You literally just told me that you’re too in your head lately. So what exactly is going on in your head?”

You sighed and rubbed your face. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with, trust me.”

“Fine then. Tell me what you meant when you told me to take you out of my ‘rotation.’”

“You know what I meant.”

“Actually, no, I don’t. Do you really think I just have a bunch of women on retainer, ready to come when I call?” 

You raised your eyebrows at him. “You expect me to believe that you don’t?”

“Is that really what you think of me?” He looked concerned. 

“I didn’t mean it as a bad thing,” you said, running your fingers through his hair. “I just meant that you could literally have anyone you want. Why wouldn’t you take advantage of that opportunity?”

He sighed. “It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

“Care to explain?”

“Not particularly. I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about that?”

“You started it!”

“I just… I hope that’s not what you’re upset about.” He searched your face for confirmation, but you weren’t about to give it to him.

“It’s not. Don’t worry about it, okay? I’m sure you’ll find something or someone else to do while I work through my shit.”

“That’s not why I’m concerned. You’re my friend and I want to help you. I don’t understand why you won’t let me.”

You paused, feeling a lump form in your throat as you fought back tears. “Because it’s not something you can help with,” you choked out.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said softly as he sat up and took your face in his hands. “You’re starting to scare me, Y/n. Please talk to me.” 

You closed your eyes for a moment, causing some tears to fall down your cheeks. Tom brushed them away with his thumbs. You looked back up at him. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” you whispered, your teary eyes darting between his eyes and his lips. With genuine concern still in his eyes, he slowly leaned forward and just barely touched his lips to yours. You brought your hands up to cradle the back of his neck and gently pull him closer to you. His lips caressed yours tenderly, moving cautiously. 

After a moment, he hesitantly broke the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. “Should I stay, or do you want me to leave?” he asked in a low voice.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” you replied, echoing his own words from moments ago.

“Care to explain?”

“Not particularly.” Though there was still sadness in your eyes, a slight smirk crossed your face from giving him a taste of his own medicine.

He gave a small chuckle. “Then I think I’d like to stay. I’d rather not leave you like this.”

Your stomach filled with butterflies, but your brain told you not to think anything of it. “You really don’t have to,” you told him as he stood up and stripped down to his boxers. “Honestly, I’m okay.”

“While I one hundred percent believe you,” he said sarcastically as he climbed back into your bed and gently brushed one last stray tear from your face. “I know I don’t have to. I want to.”

You looked into his eyes, searching for any sign that he was just doing this out of pity. When you couldn’t find one, you gave him a small smile. “Then I suppose I have no choice but to let you stay.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, smiling back at you. He’d never called you that before– his girl– and even though you knew it was just an expression, you were sure that if you’d been standing, your knees would have buckled. He kissed you again briefly and then laid down on his side facing you. You turned on your side so the two of you were face to face and he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close.

”I noticed you wore your glasses for your interview. Did you get any sleep after I left this morning?” you asked him.

“You know me too well,” he replied, running his foot lazily up and down your calf. “No, I couldn’t fall back asleep after you left.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you groaned, hiding your face in his chest. “You were sleeping so soundly before I woke you up.”

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

You lifted your head back up to look at him. “You were snoring.”

“What? I do not snore,” he argued in disbelief.

“It’s just a soft, little snore,” you explained, trying to hide your smile. “It’s kind of cute actually.” 

He looked at you suspiciously. “Are you sure it wasn’t just that one time?”

You couldn’t help but giggle. “Oh no. You’ve snored every night that we’ve slept together. I can’t believe no one else has told you this before!”

He shrugged. “Not everyone is as honest with me as you are, darling.”

“Well, someone needs to put you in your place once in a while,” you teased.

He laughed. “You’ll have no arguments from me about that.” His expression quickly shifted back to concern. “Are you sure it doesn’t bother you?”

“I’m positive,” you assured him. “Like I said, I think it’s cute.” You tried to fight the yawn that crept up on you, but you lost.

Tom carefully tucked your hair behind your ear. “Go to sleep, sweetheart.” He kissed your forehead and held you close to his chest. You fell asleep almost instantly.

…

When you woke up the next morning, you rolled over to find that Tom was gone and there was a note on the side table. 

Had to rush to a meeting. I would have said goodbye but you were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t want to wake you. I hope you’re feeling better, and know that I’m always here if you need me. xx -T

With a heavy sigh, you let your forehead fall onto the mattress. This man was not making this easy on you. Why did he have to be so goddamn sweet? And why did you let him stay over in the first place? Even without the sex, you wouldn’t be able to get over…whatever was going on with you… if you kept up all this cuddling, and kissing, and sleeping over. Unfortunately, that meant that you had to set that boundary with him.

He didn’t reply right away, and your mind and heart started racing. Was it just about the sex for him this whole time? Did you just lose who you thought was your best friend over this? You felt yourself about to break down in tears, but then your phone buzzed.

You let out a sigh of relief, but there was still a small pit in your stomach. You desperately hoped that this would work; that the two of you could just focus on your friendship for a while and you would get over your silly emotions, and maybe you would go back to having casual sex one day, or maybe not. The important thing was that you wouldn’t lose him. You couldn’t lose him.

…

Tom threw his phone to the other end of the sofa and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his head in his hands. You wanted to focus on being friends. Of course. Just when he’d finally admitted to himself that he had feelings for you. He wanted so desperately to take a step forward, and instead you took a step back. At least he hadn’t made a fool of himself like Evelyn had suggested he do in Hawaii. 

It was a few nights before you came to visit him, and he and a few cast members had gone out for some drinks. 

“So Tom, are you ever going to tell us who she is?” Evelyn said with a nudge to Tom’s side.

“Who who is?” Tom asked, confused. 

Evelyn rolled her eyes. “Do you really think no one has noticed when you get a text and you start grinning like an idiot?”

“I don’t grin like an idiot,” he defended. 

“Oh, you so do,” Lily, another co-star, chimed in. 

He chuckled nervously. “It’s just my friend, Y/n.”

Evelyn scoffed. “Your friend? If she’s just your friend, then why are you blushing?���

Tom felt his cheek with his hand and looked down in embarrassment. “She’s my best friend, actually. And yes, we sleep together occasionally, but it’s casual. Nothing more than that.”

“You sleep together??” Evelyn and Lily squealed in unison. 

He blushed harder. “Okay, tone it down, ladies. It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s a huge deal!” Evelyn contested. “You’re best friends, you sleep together, and she makes you light up like a fucking christmas tree… You’re completely smitten!”

Tom shook his head. “Stop. I am not smitten. We’ve had an agreement to keep things casual and that’s what we’ve done.”

Lily’s face suddenly lit up in realization. “Wait! Is this the friend that’s coming to stay with you this week?”

“Yeah, but–”

“Casual, my ass!” Evelyn accused, pointing her finger in his face. “You are SO smitten!”

Tom hid his face in his hands, failing to hide his ears which were now bright red. “Okay, fine… Maybe a little.”

Evelyn and Lily both let out another squeal, this time reaching a pitch only dogs could hear. 

Tom was actually surprised himself. Maybe it was because he was a bit tipsy, but they just got him to admit something out loud that he’d never even admitted to himself before. 

Evelyn grabbed his arm rather aggressively. “You have to tell her!” 

Tom’s head shot up from the cover of his hands. “Absolutely not,” he protested. 

“Why not?” Lily asked.

“Are you mad? What if she doesn’t feel the same? Then it’s going to be awkward between us and I could lose my best friend!”

Evelyn looked at him like he was stupid. “She’s coming all the way from London to spend a whole week with you!” 

“Because she desperately needs a holiday, and the only reason she decided to take it was because I already arranged it!”

“Dude, you’ve got it bad,” Lily said, shaking her head. 

“I do, don’t I?” Tom groaned, returning his head to his hands. 

Evelyn rubbed his shoulder in an effort to comfort him. “Look, see how the week goes. If you detect any sign that maybe she has feelings for you too, tell her. If she doesn’t feel the same– which I find highly unlikely, by the way– at least you know, and then you can move on. And if she’s truly your best friend, then this little hiccup won’t matter!”

Tom sighed and then turned his head to look at her. “You really think so?”

“I’m sure of it.”

He almost did it. He was going to tell you how he felt on the ride to the airport, but then you suddenly closed yourself off and told him not to come with you, saying you had to “get back to reality,” and it made him question everything he thought he felt between you the night before.

Despite Evelyn’s hopeful sentiment, however, you only seemed to pull away more and more after that. You stopped wearing his clothes, you were texting him less and less, you wouldn’t tell him what’s wrong, and now you just wanted to strictly be friends. He would no longer be able to kiss you, to hold you, to feel you in his arms while he slept, to wake up to your beautiful face. But he’d sacrifice all of that if it meant he wouldn’t lose you. He couldn’t lose you.

Taglist: @chronicallybubbly , @the-princess-of-loki , @princess-ofthe-pages , @darcylikesloki , @kikster606 , @foxherder , @simone818283 , @newtomofgods @christinebloodwrittings @tom-hlover , @lulubelle814 , @kingliam2019

[sunflw3rbouquet]

another time

in another time, you and me could be together forever, and have a perfect, carefree romance.

toji x male reader spoilers for the jjk manga and anime :p

notes: semi-jjk canon compliant (toji's mentioned to be alive? idk how to explain and tsumiki doesn't exist), ooc toji, angst tw: angst, abandonment, cursing, depression, mentions of arguments, mentions of blood (implied assassin career). i might of missed smth, lmk if i need to add anything

…sun✰: writing this bc im depressed and i love my toji<3

in another time, i could come home to you.

the house was dark, no lights that burned electricity working. there were only candles that slowly reached the end of their wick, giving the room a soft glow. it created a creepy haunted atmosphere if there was no one present. y/n hated coming home to the empty house. it depressed him more than he usually was in this lifestyle. 

he called out for anyone, dropping his coat on the rack at the door. y/n kicked off his shoes, peering his head to look towards the kitchen. “toji, i’m home.” there was no immediate response, meaning the man was most likely asleep or was out of the house buying alcohol.

y/n didn’t expect a response. he learned to not expect one. toji was, for how much he loved him, never around enough. the house was just him, megumi, and the scent of cigarettes and dried blood. 

sometimes the opposite of expectations occur.

“will you be quiet? i just got megumi to sleep.” toji’s head poked from megumi’s bedroom, holding the sleeping 3 year old in his arms. his heart rested for a second before clenching again in a stressed anger. y/n held back a retort, something along the lines about how he just made a paycheck for their family and how he shouldn’t be chastised for trying to talk, but he held his tongue and allowed the bubbling emotions to burn in his gut. getting angry at toji right now wouldn’t do anything. it rarely did anything, due to toji’s hard head, and only made things between them worse. besides, the anger in his stomach allowed him to feel anything other than pain that lingered in every curve of his brain.

“i’m sorry.” y/n said with a lack of the smiley tone he had before. toji’s face faltered only for a moment, not one second longer. apologies weren’t common among them, the pride they both carried was both strong and loud. toji coughed slowly to clear his throat, megumi turning sleepily in his arms.

“it’s fine, just- say good night to him? he was whining all night for you.” toji’s voice is rough, the softest bit of emotion slipping through his voice as megumi turned once more in his grasp. the anger burning a pit in y/n’s stomach quelled as toji handed him the boy, his thin body much too light for his age. megumi’s eyes slowly opened, a glimmer appearing in his irises as he saw y/n.

“you’re home!” he happily said, reaching his small hands up to grab y/n’s hair. y/n smiled at the touch, leaning down to press a kiss to megumi’s forehead.

“i am. have you been giving daddy a hard time while i’ve been gone?” megumi shook his head at y/n’s statement in denial, the flush caking his face revealing his lie. toji cracked a small smile, pinching his son’s cheek. megumi squealed, dropping his hands from y/n’s hair to cover his face.

“don’t believe anything this rascal says. he was complaining and whining all night wanting you to come home.” toji’s voice had a ribbon of playfulness going through it as megumi tucked his head into y/n’s chest, embarrassed he was being exposed. y/n shook his head, toji rolling his eyes, whispering about how y/n babied the boy too much. when would toji understand that megumi was the cutest thing in the universe? toji leaned up against the door, pushing it open.

laughter escaped from y/n’s throat as the bedroom door opened, toji ushering y/n and megumi inside. looking down at the boy, y/n’s smile changed into a smirk as he sped up while going into the room. “megumi, i got you! let’s run away from daddy, he’s gonna get us!” megumi squealed as y/n entered the room, toji running up behind the two, his arms locking around y/n’s waist with little effort.

“caught you.” toji’s voice was low as he pressed a gentle kiss to the right side of y/n’s jaw. y/n opened his mouth, megumi squealing in response again as toji’s hand sneaked up to tickle his foot.

in between megumi’s giggles, he looked up to meet y/n’s eyes. “you’re terrible at running, dad. we got caught by daddy!” he exclaimed with a pout, kicking his feet against, y/n’s heart stopping. 

dad…?

megumi continued to stare up at him, expectantly. a frown started to replace the glimmer in his eyes as y/n didn’t respond to him. y/n was silent for a second more, toji’s cough signaling a ‘pull it together’, snapping him out of his trance. “i’m sorry megumi. it’s all my fault, now i guess you have to go to sleep.” y/n frowned, caressing the boy’s hair gently. toji nodded his head in agreement, megumi pouting as his eyes began to droop.

megumi hid a yawn behind his lips as y/n laid him down on his bed, eyes practically closed as y/n tucked him into bed. y/n sat down on the edge of the mattress, toji following the action and sitting next to him, avoiding the small boy’s curled up body. “sleep megumi, you need to sleep to grow big and strong!” y/n’s voice was cheerful as he pet the top of megumi’s head. the cheerfulness an act he only put on for the kid, one that he let die the second him and toji were alone.

“like daddy.” he groggily whispered, y/n breaking his gaze from megumi to look over to see toji’s smile. there was an affectionate aura that clung to every section of his skin. the look was so different for him, something that y/n had only seen the day toji had asked him out all those years ago. the exclusivity of it made y/n’s stomach burn with a rush of adrenaline, fiery like a burning star. maybe there was more to toji and the gruffness inside him. maybe there was happiness and accepting in there. maybe there was joy in there for the people who he loved. y/n wanted to dig in to find more of it, to see him like this more.

y/n looked back to megumi, his hand now brushing megumi’s hair out of his face, smiling softly at the boy’s half-asleep figure. “just like daddy.” y/n repeated gently, toji’s arm snaking around his waist as y/n quietly cupped megumi’s cheek. “sleep well dear.” that was y/n’s final words to the boy for the night, toji repeating the message quietly. the two adults exited megumi’s room quickly before their movement could cause megumi to stir and wake up again and catch a case of the zoomies.

as the couple entered their room, toji’s hands went to y/n’s waist. his fingers brushed against the waistband of y/n’s pants, his skin barely touching the edges of y/n’s back. the room was dark, as whatever candles toji had lit earlier in the day had definitely burned through their entire wicks by now. 

“you’re so good to him. it’s sickening.” toji’s voice was monotone, like usual, but there were sections of happiness peaking through his lips. y/n smiled in return, pressing a kiss to the scar on toji’s lips, so quickly it could barely be counted as a kiss.

“megumi just brings out the affectionate side of me.” y/n spoke, gently straightening out toji’s baggy shirt, his hands stopping on the muscles of his biceps. he slipped away, going to the dresser before he got too comfortable.

toji froze at the touch. he froze so intensely that he couldn’t react to y/n quickly stripping out of his clothes and putting on pajamas before flopping into the bed. “come here, toji. i’ve waited all day to be in your arms.” y/n’s words were soft. inviting. something that broke toji out of his trance and made him walk over to y/n. the emotions made his heart clench, toji now wishing for the connection of the man he… loved. 

against a portion of his mind, toji flopped onto his boyfriend, arms tightening around y/n the second he touched his waist.. toji pressed a kiss to the side of y/n’s face, rolling to the other side of the bed, one arm under y/n’s back, the other hanging off the bed.

“god i love you. i think you’re poisoning me, you know? fucking asshole who took my heart and made me fall in love with how beautiful and kind you are.” toji whispered, eyes looking towards the window. his words were most likely meant to be thoughts. even y/n could tell that. a bright smile graced y/n’s face as he slipped his hand into toji’s, staring up at the ceiling.

“you were a bitch too. bringing me into your home and trapping me with your good looks and adorable son…” y/n teased, toji’s exterior falling as he began to complain.

“hey- you came to my house AFTER we started dating- don’t make it sound like i’m a crook.” toji’s words were a grumble as he turned over, clinging to y/n’s side. he pressed a gentle kiss to y/n’s jaw, eliciting a soft giggle from the man. “besides, you love megumi and me. you didn’t get trapped.”

y/n rolled his eyes at the (accurate) statement, moving his body so he rested on toji’s chest, arms loosely wrapped around toji’s waist. his breath came out as soft, warm sighs against toji’s neck, eyes closing due to how relaxed toji made him feel. “you’re warm. i really love you, ji.” toji’s eyes lit up, grip on y/n’s back tightening the slightest bit. it was almost unnoticeable, but the action made y/n smile.

“i love you too, y/n. sleep well.” toji spoke softly, pressing a kiss to the top of his boyfriend’s head. y/n’s eyes fluttered open and then shut, catching one more glimpse of toji, the darkness seeping through the windows as he fell asleep.

y/n felt disgusting. dried blood caked under his fingertips, on the line of his scalp, and soaked his shirt with a deep red color. his heart was beating so fast it was like a high only comparable to cocaine. the back door of the house closed with a loud shutter as he reentered, something toji was supposed to fix ages ago. it was something he probably forgot about and somehow escaped y/n’s wrath, and yet even in his wave of anger, he had no energy to fight.

“you’re home.” toji said plainly as y/n entered into the house, sitting next to megumi at the head of the table while the 3 year old his dinner of frozen vegetables and whatever y/n cheap crap that was semi healthy could find at the grocery store. 

megumi began to turn his head, toji covering his son’s eyes before they could see y/n in his bloody tank top and pants. “i wanna see dad!” megumi whined, toji shushing him. he tried to push of toji’s hands, toji not budging.

“dad’s not ready to see you yet, eat your dinner before i eat it instead.” toji’s voice was harsh, harsh enough to make y/n wince at the thought that the person on the receiving end of this was his son. 

he - begrudgingly - used this distraction to run up the stairs to the bathroom to shower. opening the door, y/n moved to turn the water on, the shower head turning on. cold water trickled down his arm when he checked it after a few minutes, his neutral expression turning annoyed.

“damn you toji for not fixing the heater.” he muttered, shaking off his wet arm before stripping down the bloody clothes that weighed on his body. he entered the shower, shivering as icey water covered his torso.y/n’s world always got so much darker when he’s in the cold water of the shower. the shock allows his brain to fully awaken and think long strands of thoughts that don’t normally process in the drunken, depressed haze y/n is in during the day.

y/n had a pit growing in his stomach. things had been going too well recently. toji was happy, smiling once a day at the least, whether it was y/n or megumi didn’t matter. he actively tried to please y/n: making sure dinner was made, taking care of megumi, or trying not to curse up a storm right after y/n returned home.

most of these things would make anyone in a normal “relationship” happy, as their partner finally accepted them into their life and allowed them to coexist together. but these things, actions that were so ‘untoji’, made y/n fear for the coming days. was toji hiding something? or did he find out something was wrong?

y/n shook his head, water getting on the old shower curtains and drippin to the ground. he reached for the almost empty shampoo bottle, squeezing out the smallest amount of the watery substance onto his hand. he worked it into the roots of his hair, the blood flaking from his scalp and falling to the shower floor.

the bottle of body wash was comparably newer, y/n taking a large amount after turning the water off to rub on his skin. he basked in the scent, the familiar waves of sandalwood and honey calming down his anxious heart. 

everything would be fine.

maybe toji was really getting better. maybe, now, his lover wasn’t someone who he just attempted to make ends meet with, but someone who he could depend on in his personal life. toji was turning into a life partner, and not someone who was there to make the pain go away.

y/n turned the water on one final time, the remaining blood and negative emotions leaving him in the streams of droplets. it would all be fine. he turned off the water, exiting the shower with a happiness that was fresh and clean, like a daisy after the rain. there was a towel laid on the counter, most likely something toji had put there before y/n had made it home. 

it was strange being so cared for by a man who didn’t care often. everytime he rubbed the towel over his body to dry his wet skin, his heart fluttered with a golden light that surely radiated off of it, like it was toji’s own hands drying him off. once his body was rid of the dampness, he dropped the now dirty towel onto the floor and made his way to the bedroom lit by small rays of sunshine coming through the windows.

he found a pair of clean boxers in the laundry basket - whether they were his or toji’s both was unknown and didn’t matter. he slid them on to his mostly dry lower body, the domesticity of it all bringing a soft smile to his face. was his life turning for the better finally.

y/n picked a shirt and a pair of pants from the dresser, hoping it looked cohesive enough that toji wouldn’t immediately point it out, which he had done before. the soft fabric made y/n smile, already imagining toji and megumi waiting downstairs for him. he quickly returned to the stairwell, a smile crawling onto his lips as he saw megumi and toji dancing in the living room on the lower floor.

it was a mixture of hilarious and the most precious thing he had ever seen. megumi, bless him, was standing on toji’s feet, reaching his hands up to the sky towards his father. toji leaned over, connecting their hands, swaying from left to right slowly. the music was some soft ballad from a children’s show megumi watched, a bright smile on the toddler’s face as his dad made harmless critiques of his skill. megumi giggled softly, toji watching with a bright smile.

there was a soft breath that escaped y/n’s lungs, wishing he had his old camera to take a picture of his family. this is when they would start anew. megumi’s laughter soared through the house like balloons, toji occasionally letting out his own chuckle every once in a while. there was a new emotion seeping into y/n’s heart. was it one he could name?

as the song slowed to a stop and megumi jumped up and down in happiness, as toji looked up towards the stairs and his smile grew tenfold as he saw y/n standing there, he understood. it was completeness. he was complete, finally, after many years of searching.

“are my two favorite boys dancing without me?” y/n asked, a shocked gasp escaping his mouth as he ran down the stairs. megumi hopped off his father’s feet, meeting y/n at the edge of the living room.

megumi giggled as y/n pat his head, pointing to toji with his small index finger. “it was daddy’s idea.” y/n gasped again, looking at toji with a fake-betrayed look on his face. 

“what! it was daddy’s idea!” y/n’s gaze met toji, a fake pout appearing on his lips. the only goal of it was to make toji bend to his wants.

toji rolled his eyes, his hands crossing over his chest. “sorry, my dear y/n, that i was so cruel to dance with my son who begged me to dance with him.” megumi giggled, pushing y/n’s leg gently to get the man’s attention.

“meg, what’s up?” y/n asked, the 3 year waving his hand towards himself, signifying he had something to say. going down to the ground, y/n leaned in, listening to megumi’s words.

“go dance with daddy!” he exclaimed, giggling softly as y/n gasped. does the child enjoy embarrassing him? a warmth erupted on y/n’s face at the thought of dancing with toji, once dormant butterflies growing in his stomach again. y/n stood up to see toji putting a cd in the cd player, before turning around and extending his arm towards his boyfriend.

“may i have this dance?”

there was a pause as y/n took in a deep breath. and then he returned to the reality they both lived in. y/n took toji’s hand, a smile returning to his lips as they stepped closer together and toji’s hand went to y/n’s waist. y/n’s arms wrapped around his neck, a bright smile creeping onto his face.

the world spinned slowly with the cd playing, frank sinatra flowing through the living room as y/n and toji swayed under the moonlight. it was perfect in every sense of the word, slow dancing under the stars. y/n wasn’t used to that perfect from toji, but his heart slowly acclimated to the feeling.

megumi was curled on the couch, beginning to fall asleep as y/n and toji danced the night away. every place their bodies connected had an electrical spark, warmth flowing through y/n’s nerves. toji was the only thing on y/n’s mind, a constant that made his heart flutter in every instant. and then, he understood himself in that moment.

this is the man he would spend his life with.

he could see them growing old together, toji’s warm hands holding him just as they did now. he could see them with eternal happiness, because they both deserved it. they both deserved it so much.

“you’re spacing out.” toji said, his eyes sparkling as he looked at y/n. “what’s up?” y/n snaps out of his daze, making eye contact with toji, admiring the glow. toji’s eyes sparkled so beautifully as they admired him like he was the only thing in the world.

“i just love you.” y/n whispered, pursing his lips together to view toji’s face. he could see all the wrinkles on his face, the lines under his eyes that made him look tired. and yet he saw his gorgeous smile, the scar bending on his lips to accommodate the motion. y/n reached his hand out, thumb rubbing the skin, the warmth connecting him to the earth he stood on and the life he was living. toji chuckled softly at the touch m, brushing y/n’s hair out of his face. y/n leaned into the touch, head tilting to the side like a dog. 

“i love you too.” he responded, y/n nodding. he could tell toji meant it. he could feel that in the pit of his stomach. toji really loved him.

“good. that’s good.” y/n whispered, his fingers messing with toji’s overgrown black hair. the man’s smile grew brighter, eyes locked onto y/n’s.

“come here,” he whispered softly, y/n leaning into toji’s chest with a sigh. they swayed back and forth, the music flowing through their ears with a calm aura. it wad a movie. y/n leaned his head up, his eyes like stars saying hello to the moon. his eyes then moved their focus down to his pink lips.

toji’s gaze mimicked y/n’s as he turned his head to look down at his boyfriend, their lips inching closer with each breath that escaped their lungs. at the final second, their lips touched, and y/n could breathe again.

their lips pushed and pulled against each other, soft like cotton and sweet like candy. toji must have been taking care of himself more. the usual rough skin of his lips was gone, the only texture on them being the scar that still laid there, that would forever be present on his figure. toji’s hands laid tightly against y/n’s waist, rubbing soft circles on the skin present as y/n made finger curls with the hair that was right above the nape of toji’s neck.

the night rolled on, the two dancing until their feet hurt and they couldn’t feel left from right without stumbling. it was their own movie, where time was still and the only thing that would ever happen would be love.

the music had slowed to a stop, and the family found themself all cuddled in y/n and toji’s small bed. megumi was fast asleep, he probably had been for what was becoming an hour. the small boy was curled into toji’s chest, taking slow deep breaths as y/n curled the strands of his hair around his finger. it was happy.

they were… happy.

toji and y/n quietly made conversations with smiles on their faces. it was far from the usual topics they discussed, like what jobs needed to be done around the house, when one person or the other was working, what food megumi should be eating, etc etc. it was happy things, like where they should take megumi to play, what flavor his birthday cake should be, and where they should go on a date when they had the freetime.

it was happiness. 

and it should’ve been a sign.

it should have been a glaring red sign, instead it was something y/n accepted happily. maybe it was something he would grow to accept in the future.

y/n’s eyes began to close slowly as toji rambled on, a small smile appearing on the man’s face at the action. the moon was well into the sky by now, the two having danced much later than they expected to. he moved his hand to rest in y/n’s hair, gently playing with the strands.

“go to sleep. you’re starting to look like little megumi, falling asleep so randomly.” y/n tried to fight back, contradicting toji’s statement with words about how he ‘was so awake’ and how ‘toji was trying to get rid of him’.

“stop whining, dear. sleep.” y/n lost the energy to fight back due to toji’s hands running through his hair, eyes beginning to close again.

“fine, fine. love you, sleep well.” y/n groggily answered, leaning forward, kissing toji’s lips gently before pulling away, head resting on the pillow next to toji’s. their faces were so close together, close enough that every breath that escaped their lips caused vibrations that caused toji’s bangs to move the slightest amount.

“i love you too. i’ll love you forever, never forget that dear.” the words of toji’s reply were solemn, a stark difference from the happy tone he previously occupied. y/n looked at him concerned for a second, but he smiled once again once toji pressed a kiss to his lips. “yeah yeah, okay loverboy. i’ll love you forever as well.” y/n closed his eyes to the touch of toji’s hand on his hip, falling into a deep slumber, one that he wished he didn’t have to wake up from.

the sunshine was cold.

the sunshine was cold, and yesterday the sunshine was warm. it was so warm that everything was bathed in a golden light. it was so warm that the glittering moonlight heated y/n’s skin as he rested with his family the night prior.

and yet the sunshine was cold today.

y/n’s eyes shot open, expecting to be glancing right at toji face.

and yet he wasn’t there.

toji wasn’t there.

that was out of character for the new toji. the new toji didn’t just leave without saying goodbye. the new toji didn’t just disappear after filling y/n’s heart with happiness he had forgotten over the last years of his life. the new toji didn’t just leave his boyfriend - leave his son - and never looked back. the new toji would never break his heart like this.

unless he was the old toji all along, never changing into the new version of himself that y/n so idolized.

megumi was now against his chest, which wasn’t the same position they fell asleep in last night. now sure, the 3 year old tossed and turned, but whenever toji fell asleep next to the boy, megumi gripped so hard and never let go.

y/n closed his eyes, pressing them shut until there were sparkles appearing in the darkness and his head almost hurt, and then he reopened them, relieving the pressure. and yet toji was still gone.

in his daze of reopening his eyes, y/n saw a note resting on the sheets in front of him where toji used to be sleeping. y/n carefully moved his arm to grab the note, readjusting megumi so the boy was more comfortably resting against his chest. he unfurled the sheet of paper slowly, and he was almost certain the world could hear his heart slowly crack.

dear y/n,

i’ve decided to leave this morning and never look back. i got a job that i will complete. i’m leaving megumi to you, as the little man loves you. 

this isn’t because i don’t want to spend my life with you. i wish i could be with you forever but this is how the world is. we must keep moving on. 

i hope this doesn’t hurt that much. i really want you to be happy.

i love you my dear,

toji

tears slipped out of y/n’s eyes and onto the top of megumi’s head as he finished reading the letter, loud sobs creeping up his throat, only to be choked down. megumi stirred slowly, his small, childlike eyes opening brightly to look up at y/n.

“dad,” he sleepily spoke, y/n nodding his head to show that y/n was listening, rubbing megumi’s hair to take his mind off of the note that felt like fire in his hand.

“yes, my dear?” y/n shakily replied, tears falling down his cheeks quickly. megumi looked up, about to ask his question, then he looked to his right. 

“oh… where’s daddy?” megumi asked, now seeming more awake than he did a few seconds ago. he shifted again, holding y/n a little tighter. was he nervous? upset? scared? did he noticed that y/n was in despair?

“daddy? he’s just gone to work, dear.” y/n voice shakes harder with each word, tears dropping into megumi’s hair as he forced himself to break the contact of their eyes. megumi was a spitting image of his father, the man that y/n loved with his entire life and body, the man who just abandoned their family.

“when will he be home? i wanna go to the park with him, and i wanna have dinner with all three of us!” megumi exclaims, y/n holding back a sob as he tightened his grip on megumi’s grey sweatshirt. he was so happy, the emotion and his tight grasp on him making it harder to breathe.

“soon, dear. this will be a long mission though, i’m not sure when he’ll get home.” y/n almost hushed the boy, megumi’s constant questions twisting his heart into a small ball that couldn’t pump any blood. tears began to fall again, faster as he began to become unable to control the tsunami of emotions in his stomach.

megumi took a breath, hand reaching up to hold y/n’s jaw. “dad, why are you crying?” his voice was filled with a wonder that only a child could hold, crushing his heart into his digestive system. his small fingers brushed the tears off his cheeks before bringing them back down to gaze at them.

“i’m not- i’m not crying, megumi. go back to bed. it’s really early and you were up past your bedtime.” y/n calmed down slightly and pressed a kiss to the child’s forehead, rubbing his hair until he heard the boy begin to take slow, deep breaths. the action made y/n slightly more relaxed, but the silence made him realize the gravity of the situation.

he could finally break down.

and with one tear came two, which came 4 more, which became him crying and holding back sobs as he rubbed megumi’s back. why was he alone? why did he get left again?

there was a sound at the door, y/n looking towards it. but he had just imagined it, no man there looking for him. no man there that was ready to kiss his face and take him into his arms. maybe there was another universe they lived happily in together.

in another time we could be together, and you wouldn’t leave me all alone.

first oneshot completed! love you toji<3 5085 words

[malk1ns]

february 7 @ rangers, 3-2 win

NEITHER of them playing??? my god, they're purposely trying to make this harder on me i think.

previous installments: 1 2 3 3.5

Whenever Sid isn’t allowed to travel with the team, he chafes.

Normally it’s from injury. The dark days of the concussion and neck injury aren’t that far behind him, but even with those memories lingering in his mind Sid’s much more used to the monotony of being out hurt: check-ins with Vyas, long sessions with the trainers, at-home rehab exercises, and not a lot more. At least he gets out, though, to Cranberry for his appointments and PPG to watch home games, and in his free time whenever he wants to go.

This is different. Sid and Geno are supposed to be sequestered, stuck in Sid’s house while the team waits to see if the pregnancy took and the lawyers argue over Geno’s unplanned mating bite.

The first few days were the worst. Geno was distraught, barely able to be in the same room as Sid without looking like a kicked puppy, and constantly on the phone spitting out upset-sounding Russian as he paced through Sid’s home.

Sid gets it, kind of. Geno’s a professional, this is part of what he does for a living, and he made a mistake, tied himself to Sid without meaning to because he lost control in the middle of what was essentially a job for him. There’s no easy hockey comparison, but Sid imagines making a mistake of that magnitude during a game and thinks he’d probably be reacting much, much worse than Geno is.

The bond Geno tore into them isn’t going away, though, and eventually he drifts back to Sid’s side.

He’s hesitant at first, tentative and apologetic, but Sid eventually manages to convince Geno that he’s not mad.

It’s not how he expected to get bonded, really. But Sid had come to terms years ago with the fact that it might not be up to him. He spent his entire life being warned that alphas can’t always control themselves around an omega in heat—that’s why he had to be so careful once he got a little older and realized the value of his breeding rights.

And he could do worse than Geno.

Sid doesn’t go more than a couple hours without having flashbacks to Geno holding him down and crooning in his ear while his knot swelled inside him. His face gets hot and his scent must turn, because Geno always looks at him.

He won’t touch Sid, though, no matter what Sid does.

Part of why they’re stuck inside is because the team is convinced that Geno’s too aggressive to be in public. The unexpected bite is held up as fairly damning evidence, and the specialists argue that in the early days of the bond settling Geno might catch someone looking at Sid and go feral.

There’s a part of Sid that wouldn’t mind seeing that, but he really, really doesn’t think it would happen. Geno had one moment where he lost control, sure, but he’s been respectful to a fault since, even when Sid’s been trying his best to change that.

They sleep in the same bed because the one time Geno tried to use the guest room neither of them got more than half an hour of sleep. Sid initially hoped that maybe he could start something that way, but Geno stays on his side of the bed, touching Sid’s hip gently before pulling back.

It leaves Sid cold every night. He’s determined to change things. Technically he won’t know if he’s pregnant or not for another week when they’re able to run a blood test, but Sid knows his body intimately, and he knows it didn’t take this time—and the idea of having to wait for Geno’s touch again until he goes into heat next is untenable.

“Fuck,” he swears, letting the knife clatter from his hand and leaping back from the kitchen counter. “Oh, damnit.” 

He sticks his finger in his mouth and eyes the knife balefully. He’d woken up before Geno for the first time all week and had the idea that he’d have breakfast waiting when Geno came downstairs, set out on the table like a good little omega might for their alpha. 

Instead, his finger slipped while he was trying to chop tomatoes for an omelette and now he’s bled all over the cutting board.

“Sid?” comes Geno’s sleepy voice, and Sid cringes, turning to face the kitchen door.

“Morning,” he mumbles around his finger, watching as Geno frowns around the room and scrubs a hand through his hair. “Sorry.”

“You hurt?” Geno says, ignoring Sid’s apology and the mess in favor of crossing the room and tugging Sid’s hand down from his mouth, cradling it in his own palms. “Oh, lyubimyy, you’re bleed, let me help.”

He tows Sid over to the sink, running cool water and pushing Sid closer to the counter so he can stick his hand under the stream. Geno stays close behind him, a tall, warm presence at Sid’s back, and Sid shivers.

Geno curls his hand around Sid’s hip. “You okay?” he says quietly, leaning down to peer over Sid’s shoulder at his hand. “Looks like it’s not so bad.”

“Yeah,” Sid says breathlessly, pulling his finger back from the water and fumbling for a paper towel. “I think probably just a bandage and I’ll be fine.”

He steels himself for the rush of cold when Geno steps away from him, but it doesn’t come. If anything, Geno presses against him more, sliding his hand from Sid’s hip to his low belly.

Sid goes still. He’s afraid if he so much as breathes too loudly, Geno will realize what he’s doing and put that respectful distance between them again.

“Don’t think it take this time,” Geno says, rubbing his palm over Sid’s stomach. Sid wants to go liquid, to fall back into his alpha’s arms and let Geno have his way with him, but he grits his teeth and stays upright. Geno’s scent this close, calm and happy with an undertone of arousal that’s become all too familiar—and frustrating—to Sid over the last two weeks, is almost too much; Sid’s going to start slicking up his sweatpants soon.

“It didn’t,” he replies breathlessly, shifting his hips back the littlest bit, pressing against Geno’s body. “I mean…we won’t know for sure until they test me next week, I guess, but I don’t feel like it did.”

“Hmm,” Geno hums. He’s still moving his hand over Sid’s body, slow and warm. “Guess we have to try again.” He puts his face down to Sid’s neck, rubbing their cheeks together before he inhales open-mouthed over Sid’s scent glands, fitting his teeth to the marks he left. “Smell so good,” he groans, pulling Sid flush against his body.

Geno’s tongue on Sid’s neck almost sends him into a swoon. His throat has been so sensitive since he woke up the day after Geno bonded them; the slightest touch is enough to make his skin prickle and send shivers down his spine. Geno’s focused attention is almost too much, and Sid gets hard so fast he feels dizzy.

“Geno, please,” he gasps, reaching back blindly and groping at Geno’s side.

Geno’s mouth drags down the back of Sid’s neck as he sinks to his knees, yanking Sid’s pants down and shouldering his legs apart.

Sid doesn’t even have time to feel embarrassed before Geno has his tongue up his ass.

“Oh fuck,” Sid gets out, bracing himself against the counter just in time to stop from falling. Geno’s big palm on the small of his back encourages him to lean forward and stick his ass out further.

Sid’s face burns, but the shame of the position falls away as Geno spreads him open and licks at him, obscene in the morning quiet of the kitchen. Sid’s dripping wet now in response to the stimulation and Geno’s arousal, and all he can do is hold on.

Geno’s holding Sid so tightly Sid wonders if he’ll have bruises later, dark purple fingerprints smudged all over his ass and thighs. They’ll hurt when he sits down. The thought makes his dick throb, and if Sid weren’t so unsteady on his feet right now he’d reach down and take himself in hand.

Geno pulls back and presses two fingers to Sid’s hole, pushing in with no warning and no pause. Sid jolts, but Geno curls his fingers and strokes against something inside him that makes Sid’s stomach twist.

“So tight,” Geno murmurs. “I’m only one who has you like this, yes?” He pets the rim of Sid’s hole with a third finger, ducking down to suck at Sid’s balls.

“Yes,” Sid wails, legs shaking as his dick twitches and leaks up against the cabinets. “It’s just you, it’s just you, please.”

“Shh, sweetheart,” Geno soothes. “I get you there.”

If Sid were able to do more than clutch at the edges of his sink and moan, he’d beg Geno to tug him down onto the floor and knot him right there in the kitchen. He feels frantic, hot all over and desperate for more, but all he can do is gasp open-mouthed as he stares blindly out the window above the sink and let Geno do what he wants.

Geno knows exactly what to do, how hard to thrust, when Sid’s ready for him to add a third finger and worm his tongue in alongside. And when Sid’s so close he’s practically out of his mind, scrabbling at nothing on the countertops, Geno knows when to wrap his other hand around Sid’s dick and stroke him once, twice, until Sid’s coming all over his nice wooden cabinets.

He almost falls, but Geno catches him around the waist and eases him down, positioning him in Geno’s lap. Geno’s dick is between his legs, nudging against his balls and over-sensitive dick, and Geno wraps his arms around Sid’s waist to move him, humping up between Sid’s thighs as he chases his own pleasure.

Sid lets his head fall back against Geno’s shoulder, turning his head into Geno’s neck and mouthing at his tendons. Geno’s scent glands are right there, and Sid thinks he might be drowning, totally surrounded in scent and the feel of Geno’s arousal building in the back of his mind where the bond is.

When he scrapes his teeth against Geno’s glands, not even enough to leave a mark, Geno shouts, clutches him close, and comes all over Sid’s legs.

Sid clenches his thighs around Geno’s knot, shivering at the feel of it pulsing against him. That was in him not two weeks ago, and if Sid gets his way he’ll have it in him again soon.

He’s not letting Geno avoid him, avoid this, anymore. Geno mated him, and Sid wants everything that’s meant to go along with that. And Sid always gets what he wants in the end.