#anyway is it just me or can the word stove actually work as a name

[greenfrogartist]

@the-stove-is-divorced I know I said I'm gonna read your newer fics, and I know I did my homework to read some of them (I've just found a way to watch LMK and I'm gonna do just that once I'm finished with Danny phantom)

But I need you to understand that I am a weak nostalgic simple frog who fell for the temptations of rereading your older fics for the hundredth time rather than start on any of the new ones that I know for a fact I would love and I'm sorry for that

[grandline-fics]

Dream A Little Dream

DESCRIPTION: They hear you say their name in your sleep

WARNINGS: just fluff

CHARACTERS: Killer, Smoker, | Law, Sabo

WORDS: 1,790

A/N: I've been hating how some of the requests I've been working on were turning out so I've paused them to go back to this idea with some other characters. Hope you all enjoy

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

———————

KILLER

“No I don’t.”

“Yes, you do!”

“No. I don’t.”  Killer looked up from the stove at the sound of your argument with Wire came closer to the kitchen. Nothing disputes were always common around the ship so usually he didn’t pay them much mind but Killer always found himself taking a little more notice to things when they involved you.

“How do you even know? You’re asleep.” Wire argued as you both entered the kitchen, not noticing the vice-captain right away. Killer watched as you leaned against the counter and rolled your eyes at your crewmate. “What’s the big deal anyway? So what if you talk in your sleep?”

“It’s not the claim I talk in my sleep, it’s just that I don’t believe you, Wire.” You explained, turning to stare at your crewmate suspiciously. “I mean it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve tried to prank me. Unless you can get proof that I talk in my sleep or someone else- that isn’t just Heat- confirms it, then I’ll believe you.” You shrugged simply and finally turned to acknowledge your vice-captain with a smile now that the matter was dropped. “What’s for dinner?”

Late that night, Killer rose from the heavy haze of sleep that he had to force himself to resist falling back into. With a long, low groan, he stretched out his body and rubbed his tired eyes before settling his mask firmly into place. Rolling his shoulders and pulling his clothes on he dragged his heavy limbs out of his bed and absently walked through the ship until he was climbing the Crow’s Nest to relieve Gig. Wishing the other crew member a goodnight, Killer settled back and readied himself for what he could already tell would be a calm and uneventful watch shift. However he was surprised after a couple hours to see the hatch open and you appeared. 

“You’re not on the roster for tonight…” He noted, watching you close the hatch and adjust the blanket and pillow under your other arm. 

“Nope, tomorrow night.” You confirmed. “I always come up here when I have trouble sleeping. Is it okay if I join you?”

“Of course it is, make yourself comfortable.” Killer gestured you to pick somewhere to sit. You smiled happily and Killer returned it despite his smile being hidden beneath his mask. As you moved to settle in the seats near him, he tried to remain as relaxed as he could. Even with a single seat separating you both, he could still feel the natural warmth you always exuded, both a comfort and distraction for him. 

Killer watched as you placed the pillow on the windowsill and tucked your arms underneath it, deciding to forgo actually lying down so you could face him properly and idly chat with him through his watch. Eventually though Killer noticed your eyes were drooping and your voice would thicken, your statements broken by yawns in a signal that you’d finally fall to sleep. It wasn’t long before your breathing evened out and the peaceful silence fell. Killer turned his head away from you, deciding to actually finish his task and keep watch. He only had another couple hours and he’d be finished. Every so often through that time he’d hear you shift slightly and let out soft mumbles but for the most part you slept completely silent. Then your voice drifted up. “Hm…Kil…”

“Yeah? What’s-” Killer turned his head only to pause to see you were still fast asleep. Immediately he shut his mouth and continued to watch you sleep. While you’d said the beginning of his name, he wasn’t going to jump to conclusions that you were actually dreaming about him. After all a lot of words started with ‘kil’ and you could have been saying anything. 

“Killer…ask me out already…” Killer all but choked on his tongue, not expecting that but he definitely wasn’t complaining. Clearing his throat he composed himself just in time for the hatch to fly open and crash loudly against the floor causing you to jump awake and look around in startled confusion. Your eyes landed on Wire who arrived for his watch and with a huff you controlled your racing heart. 

“Oh oops, you were sleeping?” Wire asked before his eyes lit up. “You were sleeping! Killer, did they talk?” Immediately your heart began to race again and you looked to Killer who remained outwardly calm. 

“Nope, not a word.” He stated while getting up and stretched his stiff muscles, glad to go back to his own bed. Just before he could close his door, you appeared, hand bracing against the wood and stopping him. “What’s up?”

“You lied to Wire.” You stated and Killer’s eyebrows rose slightly. “I always win at poker because I know your tell when you lie. I did talk in my sleep, why didn’t you tell him what I said?”

“Well I think what was said would be best kept between us.” Killer smirked, emboldened by how adorably confused you looked. Then in the depths of your mind you must have recalled what you were dreaming about because your eyes widened and a small gasp broke free. 

“Night Kil, see you in the morning.” You quickly uttered, stepping back and hurrying to your room, your steps faltering when he called after you. “It’s a date.” 

SMOKER

You stared at the mountain of paperwork already waiting on your desk as you entered your office that morning. You’d stayed up so late clearing your desk only to see even more waiting for you. Slowly you looked at the mug of coffee in your hand and back to the paperwork and sighed heavily. It was going to be a long day and most likely night, you could already tell. Bracing yourself you sat down at your desk and lifted the first file waiting for you and your eye twitched immediately. Yeah, it was going to be a very, very long day. By midmorning your patience all but snapped and you made a list of the people responsible for your swiftly soured mood and left to go to the transmission room. Lifting the receiver you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction stir within you as you began your announcement. 

“Attention G-5. Due to personnel ignoring protocol and handing in multiple reports from previous missions at once, a backlog has occurred. Until these reports have been fully processed the following Marines are prohibited from active duty off base. No exceptions.” You paused to let the beginning announcement set in, already you could hear a chorus of voices coming from outside the room. Then you began to clearly and concisely read out the long list of names of the offenders. 

From the training yard, Smoker and the others stopped to listen to the names being echoed through the speakers. As he ground his teeth against the cigars in his mouth he couldn’t help the mounting frustration as he recognised a lot of the names on his list were part of the unit he was meant to be going out on a mission with in just a couple days time. As Commander of the base he was sorely tempted to go against the transmission but at the same time he supposed these Marines needed to be taught a lesson in not just handing in bulk reports last minute. He also recognised the voice as yours and he didn’t want to annoy you given he was attracted to you too. Perhaps he could convince you to process certain Marines first. “The personnel on this list will be notified when they are cleared for duty again. Thank you.”

Smoker sighed heavily and within seconds he heard the multitude of voices surging up, all of them calling for him. Before he’d even gotten out of the training yard he was already swarmed by those who’d now been placed off-duty and asking him to pull strings or pull rank and still let them go on their missions. With a headache growing, Smoker glared at them all into shutting up and backing off before he made his way to your office. He knocked once and entered.

“How long will they take to process? There’s a mission-”

“That’s occurring in two days time, I’m aware.” You noted with a small nod, not even bothering to look up at him. You weren’t even surprised that he’d come here. It was inevitable he’d appear sooner rather than later. “I can only go as fast as I can and like I said, multiple reports are handed in at once. It’s a lot to go through.”

“Can the other administrators assist you-”

“Not without them neglecting their reports to process and this incident ends up getting larger.” You shook your head before settling your hands on the desk and looking up at him, Smoker immediately saw the tiredness in your eyes. He began to wonder how long this kept happening and today was the first time you decided to finally take action to prove a point. 

“Do you need anything?” He asked, eyeing the stacks of reports warily. He had to admit paperwork wasn’t his strength. You smiled softly, appreciating his offer but you shook your head. 

“Thank you but I’m fine.” 

Late that night Smoker was making his way through the corridors in his usual patrol before going to bed when he spotted the light coming through your open door. He knew you had a habit of staying up late but this was bad even for you. Were you forcing yourself to stay up even later to see process everyone as soon as possible? Smoker approached the door and saw you sleeping on the sofa against the wall in the room. You must have only intended to only take a small nap before going back to work again but your body had other ideas. Stepping inside he kept his steps as quiet as he could but it seemed he wasn’t quiet enough because you started to stir. “Smoker…”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” Smoker told you but stopped beside you and saw you were still completely unconscious. You were dreaming and saying his name? Smoker couldn’t help but smirk when his name slipped from your lips again and you let out a small sigh.

“Be safe, Smoker…” You mumbled, your face scrunching in adorable annoyance. “Hand your report in on time.”

“Sure, you got it.” Smoker chuckled before reaching down to grab the blanket off the back of the sofa a drape it over you before leaving you to rest while also making sure to see to it that from now on everyone handed in their reports on time.

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

TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf

[rens-writes]

･｡ Mama ｡･

You're standing in the kitchen, humming quietly to yourself as you cook for lunch. Toji sits at the little island nook in your apartments kitchen. He's reading a book and will occasionally look up at you. Megumi is in the living area playing and watching tv. "Hey, taste this." You scoop out a little bit of the food and turn to hold it out to him. He barely looks up at you as he opens his mouth. You carefully stick the spoon in his mouth. He takes the food off of it and you pull it away from him. You watch him expectantly. "Is it good? Do I need to add anything?" He sits there for a second before making a face of disapproval. You gasp at him, playfully acting like you're offended. "What? What's wrong with it?" You ask. "Ehh.." He starts to respond but he finally looks up at your face and it makes him snort. "Nothing. It's fine, I was just messing with you." You roll your eyes and smack him right on the top of the head with the spoon in your hand. It echoes with a loud 'thunk' and he looks at you in bewilderment. He reaches up to rub the spot you hit. "You've got a thick skull, huh? Didn't even sound like that hurt." He just rolls his eyes. "Love you." He waves you off and looks back at his book. "Yeah yeah." You stifle a laugh and turn back to the stove.

After a few minutes of just your humming and the cooking noises, there's the sound of little footsteps. Megumi comes running in waving a piece of paper around. "I did a picture!" He yells. You hum and look over your shoulder for a second. He shows it to Toji first. "Look!" Toji looks down at his son and the paper he has clutched in his hand. "Wow, that's nice. Did you keep the colors on the paper this time?" Megumi pulls a face and looks down at the paper. Toji just sighs and ruffles his hair. "We'll work on that." He points to you and says something to Megumi. You're too lost in your cooking to really hear what he said. "Okay!" Megumi runs around the counter and waves his paper at you. "Mama!" Megumi yells out the word to catch your attention. And it certainly does. You and Toji both freeze in your place, just letting the name hang in the air. Megumi stands next to Toji looking between the two of you in confusion. "Mama...?" He says it again, quietly like he's afraid he's said something wrong. You blink and slowly turn to look at Toji. He's already looking at you with his eyebrows raised. You've known them both for about two years. And you've been dating Toji for one of those. Megumi was only a year old when you actually started dating. And he's only ever called you by your name. You've never expected him to call you as his mother, because you're not. And neither of you have coerced him to call you that way either.

You turn to look at Megumi who's standing at the edge of the counter. He looks up at you with his big puppy eyes, holding out the piece of paper to you. "Mama." The name makes your heart swell. You turn to look at Toji, to see if he's okay with this. He's smiling softly at you. "Does it, uhm... Does it bother you if he calls me that..?" You wipe your hands off on your little apron. Toji shrugs. "Nah. I mean you basically are anyways." With his approval you squeal and hurry towards Megumi, scooping him up in your arms. This makes him squeal and giggle. "Gumi!!" You squeeze him as tight as you can without hurting him. He yells and squeezes you back the best he can. "I'm mama?" You ask him with a grin. Megumi nods and plants one of those sloppy little kid kisses on your cheek. You stifle a little laugh and kiss him on the head. "I'm mama! I'm his mama!" You turn to look at Toji who's watching the two of you with a smile. Megumi giggles and rests his head on your shoulder, holding up the piece of paper he had. It's a little crumpled now because of the squeezing. "Oh. What's this?" You reach for the paper. It's a picture he's drawn. You're assuming it's supposed to be you and him. It's really just a bunch of scribbles. He points to the little collection of scribbles on the page, and then to the larger one. "Megumi. Mama." You have to fight off the urge to squish him. "Thank you. I love it so much, it's so pretty." He grins and then reaches down for the floor. You set him down and watch as he runs off.

You turn back to look at Toji who's now at the stove since you had completely abandoned the food cooking there. Whoops. You walk over to stand next to him and lean against his shoulder. "He called me Mama..." He hums quietly in response to you. "Mhm." He turns off the stovetop and moves the pan off of the hot eye. He then turns to wrap you in a hug. "You basically were anyways." You hug him and press your cheek against his chest. "I'm just so happy that he thinks of me that way..." You say quietly. "I just didn't want you to feel like I'm replacing her..." He makes a soft humming sound, one that makes his chest vibrate. "I don't think of it that way." He squeezes you gently. "You're filling in an empty spot in his life. And mine." He kisses you on the top of your head. "And we both love you for that." You smile and look up at him. "I love you two. Like so much more than I can actually explain." He laughs softly and kisses you on the forehead. "Good to know. Now let's eat yeah? I'm starving."

divider by inklore

reblogs appreciated!

[cowboybeepboop]

Kiss the chef 

 "Oh God...keep doing that..." 

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem! Reader

Genre: Smut

Word count: 5.7k

Summary: Clark is your best friend, who you suspect of being Superman. 

a/n: Guys I’ve been like obsessed with writing but I have zero time 😔 it’s torture and I’m also running out of ideas for the names of each oneshot they’re getting crazy 😭 Also yes, I’m aware I shift perspectives a lot, thats a stylistic choice 👍

Clark hums softly as he moves around the kitchen area, his hands working diligently as he prepares dinner for the two of you. 

He glances over his shoulder, his eyes catching a sight of you lounging on the couch, completely engrossed in your phone, a smile forms on his lips as a gasp escapes yours.

"Almost done in here," he says, his voice laced with a hint of contentment. "You find anything interesting on there?"

He turns his attention back to the meal, stirring something in a pan on the stove while sneaking glances your way, curious to know what's capturing your focus.

“Actually, yes.” You reply, hopping up and joining him in the kitchen. “There’s new photos of Superman that were just released.” You gushed, he knows about your crush on the hero, yet doesn't know that you’re imagining him as Superman.

Clark quirks an eyebrow, a slight amused smile on his face as he pretends to be surprised at the news. 

"Really?" he says, feigning intrigue, not that he would need to fake it. "New photos, huh?"

He watches you from the corner of his eye as you join him in the kitchen, the mention of Superman stirring something within him.

You lean against the counter, your eyes locked on the screen. “Mm, it smells good.” you murmur, setting your phone down and looking at the food he’s prepared, your mouth nearly watering at the sight.

"Thanks." Clark replies, a proud smile spreading across his face as he watches you eye the dish with appreciation. He glances in the direction of the screen, seeing a glimpse of the photos of Superman before returning his focus to you.

"Hopefully it tastes as good as it smells." He teases, scooping up a spoonful of the food from the pan and offering it for you to taste.

You eagerly open your mouth, holding onto his wrist as you taste the flavor, you let out a satisfied noise. “It’s really good, like really good.”

Clark can't help but chuckle at the sound you make while tasting the food, his heart fluttering slightly at the way you hold onto his wrist. 

"I'm glad you like it." He says, a hint of pride in his voice. "I put a little extra love into it just for you."

He scoops up some more food and offers it again, watching your reaction intently.

You step closer, taking the spoon into your mouth again, enjoying the way he’s feeding you small bites. “I should hire you as my private chef.” You sigh, licking your lips as you look at the pot.

"Careful, I might take you up on that offer." Clark replies, his eyes following the movement of your tongue as it licks your lips. 

He sets the spoon down, then leans against the counter next to you, his arm casually resting next to yours. "Just imagine me cooking for you every night." He muses, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

“Sounds like heaven to me.” You grin at him, reaching for your phone as the screen lights up.

"Heaven, huh?" Clark muses, he glances at the lit-up screen, the photo of Superman once again catching his eye. He clears his throat, trying to keep his composure. "So, uh, what's so special about these new photos anyway?"

“You can see all of his muscles..” you murmur, eyes fixated on the photos. “I mean they’re such high quality, just look.” You show him the screen, your cheeks flushed a slight pink.

Clark swallows the words and the photos you show him causing a stirring within him. He struggles to keep his expression neutral as his eyes flick between the screen and you.

"Yeah, they're really uh, really high quality." He clears his throat, his eyes lingering on the image, specifically the muscles you mentioned. "You really like this guy, don't you?"

You nod, turning your phone off and slipping it into your back pocket. “I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to meet him..” you shiver at the thought.

Clark's heart flutters at your words, a mix of guilt and amusement playing within him. He can't help but wonder what your reaction would be if you knew the truth.

"Meet him, huh?" He remarks, his voice low and a touch hesitant. "What would you even do if you ever met him?"

“I can think of a couple things,” you reply suggestively, wiggling your eyebrows for further effect.

Clark blushes slightly at your suggestive reply, a mix of flustered surprise and amusement on his face. He glances away for a moment, trying to regain his composure. 

"A couple things, huh?" he says, a hint of playfulness in his voice. "Well, I hate to break it to you, but I doubt the Man of Steel has time for...whatever it is you're thinking."

“Every man has time for..” you grin, “What I’m thinking of.” Clark's blush deepens at your response, his heart skipping a beat. 

He scratches the back of his head, trying to remain cool and collected, though he can't entirely hide the effect your words have on him.

"Uh, yeah, well," he stammers, a bit of nervous energy in his voice. "I'm sure the Man of Steel has much bigger priorities than...meeting fans and fulfilling...fantasies."

“Maybe.. Or maybe he has all the time for his eager fangirls.” You pull your hair into a ponytail, slyly exposing your nape to him as you notice how flustered he's becoming.

A wave of heat washes over Clark as you expose your nape to him, and he struggles to keep his composure. His eyes linger on the exposed skin for a moment, his thoughts swirling with a mixture of desire and restraint.

"Eager fangirls, huh?" he teases, trying to maintain his cool demeanor. "You certainly seem eager enough."

You giggle, watching as he turns off the stove. “I do, don’t I?”

Clark tries to ignore the way your giggle sends a shiver down his spine, turning his attention back to the stove instead. He swallows hard, desperately trying to keep his mind from wandering.

"You certainly do," he replies, his voice slightly strained. "And I have a feeling you're pretty relentless too."

“You know it.” Your grin grows as he plates the food, grabbing both in his hands as he leads you back to the living room. Clark balances the plates as he moves, he places them on the coffee table, trying to focus on the task at hand and not the way your grin makes his heart race.

"Should we watch something? A movie perhaps?” he clears his throat as he changes the topic.

“Mm.. yeah, you pick what we watch.” You settle on the floor in front of the couch, your back pressing against his knee.

Clark can't help but savor the feeling of your back against his knee, a mix of contentment and desire swirling within him. He grabs the remote, flipping through possible options but not really paying attention, his mind too preoccupied with the proximity of you and your intoxicating scent.

"How about, uh..." He struggles to think of a suitable movie as he glances down at you, his heart rate increasing. "How about that one?" he points to a movie at random.

“Sounds good.” You agree, focused on the food in front of you.

Clark tries to focus on the movie as it plays, but his attention is constantly drawn to you, the way you sit, the way you eat, the way your scent fills the air. Every little detail seems to distract him.

As the movie progresses, he finds himself inching closer to you, his knee pressing more firmly against your back. He tries to act nonchalant, hoping you don't notice his increasing closeness.

As you finish your food, you lean back against his leg further, playing on your phone. “You know, I’ve been thinking..”

Clark stiffens slightly as you lean back further against his leg, the feeling sending a thrill through him. He tries to remain nonchalant as he responds.

"Thinking? About what?" He glances down at you, his eyes flicking to your phone before meeting the back of your head again.

“You’re a reporter.” You begin, turning to look at him. “If you ever met Superman, would you tell him about me? Put in a good word..” you’re hoping that prompting him might reveal his secret.

A pang of guilt hits Clark at your question, but he forces a smile, trying to maintain composure. He knows the truth, that he *is* Superman, but hearing you talk about him like that, asking him to put in a good word...it's both endearing and painful. 

"I...uh, yeah, sure." he says, his voice a bit strained. "If I ever met him...I'd definitely mention you."

“You’re such a good friend.” You smile, turning your attention back toward the tv though your mind is obscured with disappointment.

As you turn your focus back to the TV, Clark lets out a shaky exhale, the words "good friend" stinging a little more than he expected. He remains silent for a moment, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts.

He glances down at you, the mixture of guilt and affection swirling inside him. He can't help but wonder what would happen if you ever found out the truth.

You reach for your wine glass, taking a small drink of the crimson liquid. Clark watches as you take a sip, the way your lips touch the glass making his heart skip a beat. He clenches his fists, fighting the urge to reach out and touch your face, your hair, anything.

"You, uh, like the wine?" he asks, trying to keep his mind from wandering.

“It’s actually really good, I usually hate wine.” You reply, “Where did you get it?”

Clark watches you take another sip, a hint of surprise on his face at your admission. He glances over at the half-empty bottle on the coffee table.

"Oh, it's from a small vineyard in Italy.” he answers, trying to keep his voice casual. "A friend gave it to me, said it was a special blend. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion, actually.”

His eyes linger on you once more, the sight of you drinking the wine stirring something within him.

“Then why did you waste it?” Your eyebrows furrow as you turn to look at him, confusion painted on your face.

Clark’s heart flutters slightly at your question, a mix of surprise and affection coursing through him. He tries to maintain his composure as he speaks.

“W-waste it?” he repeats, his voice slightly hoarse. “I don’t think sharing it with a...a friend is a waste.” His eyes meet yours, a hint of uncertainty in his gaze as he wonders if you can see through his facade.

“But it’s not particularly a *special* occasion, is it?” You cock your head to the side, shifting your body to face him.

Clark swallows, feeling your gaze on him as you turn to face him fully. He can see the curiosity in your eyes, the subtle hint in your question.

“I...I suppose not.” he admits, his voice soft. “Not in the traditional sense, anyway.” He studies your face, his heart racing as he wonders if you suspect something.

You narrow your eyes at him, scanning his features. “Clark..”

Clark feels a hint of alarm as you narrow your eyes, your gaze intense as you seem to be studying him. He can sense your suspicion, and it makes his heart race even faster.

“Y-yes?” he replies, his voice slightly shaky. He tries to keep his expression neutral, but he can’t quite hide the nervousness that’s beginning to show.

“You look..” you lean closer, eyes glued to his every movement. “You really do look a lot like him.” biting down on your lip as you rest your hands on his knees. 

Clark’s heart stutters at your words, his breath catching in his throat. He tries desperately to maintain eye contact, but he can feel his resolve slipping away under your intense gaze.

“Like who?” he stutters, knowing full well you’re talking about Superman.

“You know who,” you roll your eyes at his response, leaning closer to peel his glasses off his face, your fingers brush over his cheekbones. Warmth pools in your stomach as you consider the consequences of pushing him any further. 

Clark's eyes widen as you reach for his glasses, he swallows hard, feeling a mix of panic and anticipation. He knows he should stop you, but he can't bring himself to move as you draw closer.

You fold them up and set them on the coffee table behind you. “You’re really handsome.” You murmur under your breath as you gaze up at him from your position on the floor, hands itching to touch his skin once again.

Clark's breath hitches at your compliment, his heart fluttering as he takes in your words and your proximity. He can feel the heat rushing to his cheeks as you look up at him, the mix of nervousness and desire swirling within him like a tempest.

He can't help but respond, his voice barely above a whisper. "You..you think so?" He reaches out, catching a strand of your hair between his fingers, twirling it around his forefinger. 

“Of course.” You smile, leaning your elbows on his knees. “Clark, we don’t have any secrets between us do we?” your breath seems to get caught in your throat, dropping hints isn’t working anymore, you’ll have to be more direct with him. 

Clark tries desperately to push down the panic that rises in his chest at your question. He knows he should say something, anything, but the words get stuck in his throat.

His gaze flicks around the room, trying to find anything other than your eyes to focus on, but it's no use. He can feel your expectation, the way you're searching for the truth. He glances down at you again, the sight of you leaning on his knees making his heart flutter,

"N-no," he stutters, his voice strained. "No secrets."

You can tell he’s not being truthful, your expression faltering. “You’re lying.”

Clark swallows hard, the wave of guilt that washes over him nearly overwhelming. He can see the disappointment in your face, the way your expression falters, and it guts him.

He can't keep lying to you, not like this. He looks away, unable to meet your gaze, his voice small.

"I...I am." he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

“What is it you’re hiding?” You murmur, eyes locked on his beautiful blue ones.

Clark can feel his facade collapsing with each passing second. His heart pounds in his chest as he looks back at you, your gaze intense and searching. He can almost feel the truth on the tip of his tongue, threatening to burst out.

“You can tell me anything.. Clark, we’re friends.” You move to sit next to him on the couch.

Clark takes a deep breath as you move closer, sitting next to him on the couch. The feeling of your proximity, the warmth of your body next to him, it's both a comfort and a source of anxiety.

He gazes at you, his eyes betraying the mixture of emotions raging inside him. He wants to tell you, to share this secret, but he's also terrified of how you'll react when you find out you’ve been crushing on him. You place your palm on his leg, offering some comfort.

Clark feels your hand on his leg, the touch sending a wave of warmth through him, calming his nerves slightly, but not enough to quiet his worries.

"I..." he begins, his heart pounding in his chest. "I don't know how to say this, but..." He takes another deep breath, his voice soft, low, and filled with trepidation. "I'm Superman."

“I knew it!” You gasp, eyes widened as you straighten up next to him.

Clark's eyes widen at your exclamation, the suddenness and volume of your voice taking him aback. He hadn't expected such an immediate reaction, let alone you to believe him so readily. He watches as you straighten up next to him, a mix of surprise and relief washing over him. 

"Y-you did?" he stutters, his heart still racing.

“I mean of course, I’ve had my suspicions. Every time I speak of Superman it makes you turn pink.” You tease him lightly.

Clark feels his cheeks flush with color at your statement, the truth of your words hitting him hard. He blushes even more red as a result, the heat in his face growing in intensity.

He glances at you, a mix of embarrassment and relief in his expression. "I, uh, I didn't think it was that obvious," he mutters, his voice sheepish.

“Only because I know you so well.” You grin proudly. “But, I have another question for you.”

Clark can't help but feel a pang of affection as you grin at him, your confidence and familiarity with him making his heart flutter. He nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Ask me anything," he says, his voice slightly more relaxed now that the secret is out.

“Does the man of steel really not have time for one of his fans?” You bite down on your lip.

Clark's heart stutters at your words, the change in your tone sending a wave of desire through him. He can feel his own heart rate spike as you bite down on your lip, your eyes filled with a mixture of teasing and want.

He sucks in a breath, his voice slightly hoarse as he manages a response.

"The man of steel has plenty of time for his...biggest fan."

“Biggest fan hm?” You question, sliding onto his lap and straddling his hips.

Clark's breath catches in his throat as you slide onto his lap, your body settling on top of him. He swallows hard, his heart racing as he looks up at you, your face so close to his he can almost taste your breath.

He places his hands tentatively on your hips, his fingers gently gripping the fabric of your clothes as he responds, his voice thick with desire. "The biggest. And the most beautiful."

“Clark..” you lean down, nose brushing against his. “Can I kiss you?”

Clark can feel your breath on his skin as you lean down, your nose brushing against his. His heart hammers in his chest, the sound of your voice sending a wave of anticipation through him. He gazes up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and adoration. 

"Please," he whispers, his voice barely above a breath. "Please...kiss me."

You cup his face, fingers dancing over his skin as you connect your lips softly.

Clark's eyes flutter shut as you cup his face, your fingers tracing gentle paths on his skin. The softness of your touch ignites a fire within him, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that's both gentle and passionate.

He lets out a soft moan, his hands moving from your hips to wrap around your waist, pulling you closer against him.

The kiss quickly turns hungry, your lips part to let his tongue in. Your body is pressed flush against him, hands tangling in his hair as you tug on the roots gently.

Clark's tongue explores your mouth with a hunger that takes him by surprise. He tightens his hold on your waist, pulling you closer against him, his body reacting to every move you make.

He lets out a low moan as you tug on his hair, the feeling sending a wave of pleasure through him. He responds by biting your lip gently, his hands slowly caressing the skin of your back.

You pull away for a breath, Clark's chest heaves as you pull away, his eyes opening slowly to take in the sight of you. Your lips, swollen and glistening from the kiss, make his heart stutter, the need to kiss you again almost overpowering.

He gazes at you in awe for a moment, his breathing ragged, before speaking, his voice slightly hoarse.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he whispers, his hands still holding you close.

“I think I have some idea,” You tease, glancing down at the tent growing in his slacks. “I can feel it, you know.”

Clark follows your gaze, his heart skipping a beat as he sees the effect your presence has on him. He swallows hard, his eyes darting back up to meet yours, a mixture of embarrassment and desire playing across his face.

He responds, his voice low, his fingers gently caressing your hip.

"That's...that's all your fault," he says, his words laced with a hint of accusation and appreciation.

“My fault?” Your hand begins to trail down his chest. “Then I guess I should take responsibility, take care of it.” You murmur, leaning forward to kiss his neck.

Clark's breath hitches as your hand trails down his chest, his heart rate quickening in anticipation. Your touch is fire on his skin, igniting every nerve.

He groans softly as you lean forward to kiss his neck, his head tilting to give you better access. Your words and the feeling of your lips on his skin send a wave of desire through him, his body reacting to your touch.

"Responsibility, huh?" he manages to reply, his voice strained. "I like the sound of that."

“I can finally do what I’ve been dreaming of doing to you..” you whisper into his ear, your hand finally making contact with his erection.

Clark's breath hitches at your words, the sound of your voice in his ear sending a shiver down his spine. He can feel the heat of your body as you lean in closer, your hand finally making contact with his hardness.

He lets out a low moan, his body responding to your touch with an intensity he's never felt before. "Oh fuck..." He looks at you with hooded eyes, his voice thick with need. 

You reach for his shirt, pulling it off of him. “Holy shit, Clark.” Your eyes widen at the sight of his muscles, a soft gasp escaping your lips as you stare.

Clark feels a wave of heat as you pull his shirt off, the air cool against his skin. He watches as your eyes widen at the sight of his muscles, the look of desire in your eyes making his heart race.

He knows how strong he is, how powerful his body is. But hearing your reaction, seeing the effect he has on you, it's something else entirely.

"You like what you see?" he asks, a hint of teasing in his voice, his muscles flexing under your gaze.

You lean forward, kissing his chest. “You have no idea.” You mutter, fingers trailing over each muscle as your other hand continues to massage his clothed hardness.

Clark's breath catches in his throat, his body reacting to your touch, your kisses on his chest sending waves of pleasure through him. He can't help but arch into your touch, his muscles responding to your caress.

He lets out a low moan, his voice strained as he speaks, "Oh God...keep doing that..." He's lost in a haze of pleasure and desire, his eyes half-lidded as he gazes at you.

Clark's breath catches in his throat as your kisses move lower and lower down his stomach, each touch sending a wave of pleasure through him. He gasps as your tongue teases over his abs, his eyes watching your every move.

His hands grip the edge of the couch as you work on his belt, his desire for you growing with each second. He lifts his hips slightly to help you remove his pants, the feeling of your hands on him almost too much to bear.

Once his pants and boxers are removed, he's left naked in front of you, sitting on the couch with his legs spread apart. He gazes at you, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

He's completely under your spell, his entire being focused on you and only you. "Come here." He reaches for you, his voice soft and needy. 

You bring your lips to his once again, the kiss passionate and hungry. Clark responds to your passionate kiss with a fervor of his own, pulling you closer against his body, his hands roaming over your back, your hips, everywhere he can reach. He's lost in the kiss, in the feeling of your body against his.

He can't get enough of you, his need for you growing with every passing second. He moans softly into your mouth, his body reacting to your touch, his hard length pressed against your thigh.

You reach to grasp his erection, his thick cock barely fitting in your grasp. You begin to move your hand, slowly jerking him off as the kiss becomes more intense.

You pull away from his lips to catch your breath, your eyes hooded in desire. “You’re huge..”

Clark's breath catches at your words, the praise sending a shiver down his spine. He can feel your hand on him, stroking him slowly, the feeling overwhelming yet perfect.

“It’s perfect.. you’re perfect.” You slip off of his lap, settling between his muscular thighs.

Clark's heart flutters at your words, affection washing over him. He watches you move down between his thighs, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of you so close to his cock. He reaches down, gently running his fingers through your hair, his voice soft but filled with need.

"I could say the same about you," he says, his eyes meeting yours, his body alive with anticipation. "You're...you're incredible."

You lean in closer, wrapping your soft lips around the head of his cock, your eyes fluttering shut as you taste the salty sweetness of his precum. The room is filled with the sounds of your gentle slurps and Clark's moans of pleasure. 

Your hand grips the base firmly, stroking in sync with your mouth as you take more and more of him in, inch by glorious inch. You feel him swell in your grip, the veins pulsing with his excitement. 

You moan around him, the vibration sending shockwaves through his body. His hand tightens in your hair, guiding your pace as your tongue swirls around the tip, teasing the sensitive spot beneath the head. 

You look up at him through hooded eyes, watching his reaction as you deepthroat him, his face a mask of pure ecstasy. The intimacy of the moment is intoxicating, both of you lost in the sensual dance of your mouth and his cock, the tension building as the pleasure crescendos.

With every bob of your head, Clark's moans become louder, his eyes never leaving yours. The connection between you is palpable, the intimacy of the moment amplifying every sensation. 

His cock grows in your mouth, the taste of him driving you wild. You savor the feeling of his hands tangled in your hair, guiding you, the power of his grip speaking to your desire. His eyes, filled with lust and admiration, bore into yours, creating a silent conversation of pleasure that needs no words. 

Your tongue laps at his shaft, tracing the veins that stand out against his skin, your mouth creating a warm, wet heaven around his length. Each stroke, each suck, each flick of your tongue is a declaration of your adoration, a silent promise to bring him to the brink of ecstasy and back again. 

The room feels like it's spinning around you, the air thick with passion as you both give into the carnality of the act. Your cheeks hollow with the effort of taking him so deep, but it's a challenge you eagerly accept, the thrill of his pleasure reflected in every whimper that passes your lips.

You continue to worship him with your mouth, your eyes never leaving his. The way his hips buck slightly with each deep throat, the way his abs tighten as he holds back, it's all driving you crazy. The sound of his breath hitching and his fingers tightening in your hair sends a thrill through you, making your pussy throb with need. 

You moan around him, the vibrations echoing along his length, and he can't help but thrust a little deeper into your welcoming heat. The taste of him, the feel of him, it's all you can focus on as you give him the blowjob of his life, eager to show him just how much he means to you, to show him the depth of your desire. 

You feel the tension in his body building, the way his thighs tense around you, and you know he's close. The air in the room crackles with energy, the heat from both your bodies blending into an intoxicating cloud of lust. 

You don't stop, you can't stop, you want him to remember this moment, to feel the intensity of your passion every time he thinks of you. 

You continue to devour him with your mouth, your eyes locked onto his, which are filled with a mix of disbelief and pure bliss. The connection between you is electric, your every movement a silent testament to the desire that's been simmering beneath the surface. 

Each time your lips meet the base of his cock, you can feel his thighs tense against your cheeks, and the soft groan that escapes from his lips sends shivers down your spine. You're both drowning in the intensity of the moment, your hearts pounding in time with the rhythm of your mouth and his hips. 

You can feel him swelling even more, and the knowledge that you're the one bringing him to this peak sends a thrill through you. You suck harder, faster, each motion a silent plea for him to let go. And when he does, with a final, desperate thrust into your throat, the salty warmth of his release fills your mouth, and you swallow eagerly, relishing the proof of his pleasure. 

You pull back slowly, licking your lips, watching as he comes down from the high with a sigh of satisfaction. The air is thick with the scent of sex and love, and it's all you can do to not climb onto him and feel him deep inside you, to complete this perfect moment.

Clark pulls you to him, his lip moving to your neck as he gently slides his hand under your skirt. The fabric whispers against your skin as he reaches for the waistband of your panties, his touch sending shockwaves through your body. His fingertips graze over the soft fabric before he hooks it with his thumbs, pulling them down slowly. 

His eyes never leave yours, filled with love and a desperate need to feel all of you. As the last of your barriers fall away, his erection pressed against your bare thigh, hot and demanding. His hands caress your skin as if it were the most precious thing in the world, his kisses trailing down to your collarbone, each one a promise of the passion to come. 

The air is charged with anticipation, your hearts beating in sync as you both give in to the intensity of your desires. He lifts you onto his lap, his strong arms wrapping around your waist, holding you tight as if he never wants to let you go. You can feel the head of his cock nudging at your wet entrance, begging for more, but he takes his time, kissing you deeply and savoring the moment. 

His hands cup your breasts, his thumbs flicking over your nipples in time with the rhythm of your kisses, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. The room is a whirlwind of passion and love as you both succumb to the depth of your feelings, the promise of ultimate intimacy just a breath away.

Clark's hands hold your hips as he guides you down onto his cock, the thickness of him stretching you open as you moan with pleasure. He's gentle, so gentle, as he makes love to you, each thrust coming slow and steady, as if he's savoring every moment. His thumb finds your clit, pressing down in a firm but tender rhythm that sends electric jolts through your body. 

You lean back, gripping onto the couch cushions as he fills you completely, the sensation of his warmth and size overwhelming your senses. His eyes never leave yours, the connection between you growing stronger with each shared breath. Each stroke of his thumb sends you spiraling closer to the edge, and your moans become more desperate, your body begging for release. 

His own breathing becomes more ragged, his eyes dark with desire as he watches you come apart in his arms. The room seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the perfect harmony of love and passion.

Clark’s eyes bore into you as he carefully guides his cock inside you, his movements tender and deliberate. The way you straddle him, the way your pussy clenches around him, it’s like nothing he’s ever felt before. His thumb continues its delicate dance on your clit, his touch a masterpiece of passion. 

Your eyes are glazed with lust, your breath coming in short, needy gasps as he takes you higher and higher. Each stroke is a declaration of his love, a promise of the intensity to come. Your moans become louder, your body moving with his in a rhythm that feels like it's been written in the stars. 

His thumb presses harder, his hips moving faster, and you feel the first tremors of your orgasm beginning to build. The tension in the room is palpable, each touch a spark that ignites the bonfire of desire within you both. You lean into him, your breasts brushing against his chest, your body craving the closeness that only he can provide. 

The sound of your skin slapping against his fills the air, a testament to the love you share. You're both lost in the moment, in the symphony of your bodies, and the crescendo is just within reach. Your nails dig into his shoulders as you get closer, your breathing shallow and erratic. 

And when the climax hits, it's like a supernova, explosive and all-consuming, leaving you both gasping for air. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear, his voice a balm to your soul as the waves of pleasure wash over you.

[kumkaniudaku]

Stay A While (3)

Summary: Terry get's a lesson in love and shares it with Patrice.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 5,049

Part: 3 of ??

Warnings: Smut (18+)

One. Two.

"Well, James, how you been?" 

"Honestly, Pop. I don't know where to start." 

Wooden spoons banged and scraped across pots on the stove while Marvin scooped red beans and rice into a small ceramic bowl. He'd long shed his work coveralls for an open flannel shirt and khakis to spend some quality time with his only son. 

James was their shared middle name in a long line of Richmond men dating back to their family migration from New Orleans to Fayetteville in the 50s. Marvin was a proud, honorable man. He never said a bad word about anybody, and no one had a bad word to say about him. He taught Terry how to play football, make a pot of dirty rice to perfection, and the importance of ensuring a lady never touched a doorhandle in his presence. He was the reason Terry joined the Marine Corps after a career in the NFL looked unlikely. He was the reason his boy spoke softly and carried a big stick. And he was one of only two people Terry trusted with his heart. 

With two bowls and spoons on a serving tray, Marvin made his way to the kitchen table. He stopped short to get a good look at his son with blue green eyes even more captivating than Terry's. He noted the new frown lines developing on his brow and the lone grey hair sprouting in his goatee. His boy was stressed and confused. He didn't need a conversation to tell him that but welcomed it anyway. 

After sliding one bowl across the table, he took a seat with his signature grunt. "Start at the top. Plenty of time still left in the day." 

Terry quietly thanked his father for his generosity and avoided the question by eating the first bite of his meal. They ate in silence for several seconds until Terry took a deep breath. 

"I think I've been okay. More ups than downs lately, but the downs are pretty damn low. I'm having a tough time sleeping. I'm barely working. I feel like a burden for Treece more than I feel like a man who can actually do something for her." 

"Being a man is about more than what you can do." 

"Yeah, but…" Terry trailed off, trying to gather his thoughts. "It's just - things weren't supposed to be this hard. I gave this country a lot of my time, and I guess I expected to say my goodbyes and roll into my next chapter. Now, my plan b needs a plan b, and I'm out of options." 

"You're not out of options. You don't like askin' for help. Proud like your grandaddy." 

"And you too." 

Marvin chuckled and shook his head as he took another spoonful of food.  "This ain't about me."

The two men shared a laugh, their voices sounding nearly identical as they bounced off the walls. He was the spitting image of his father, both in stature and moral compass. 

"What do you need, James?" Marvin had grown serious again, making Terry avert his eyes to focus on his food. "I'll save you the stress of asking, but you gotta tell me what I need to offer. Is it money?"

"Not much. Enough to pay some bills until the end of the month, and I can have it back to you. I think I have a shot at this job on base if I can get through the second interview."

"How you getting back and forth? I know y'all do the Lyft and Ubom thing these days. Ridin' around with strangers like we didn't spend a whole decade tell y'all not to." 

Terry laughed. "It's Uber, Pop. But, no. Treece is out for the summer, so I'm…using her car when I need it. I don't wanna take advantage of her." 

"Those some of the bills you need help paying?" Marvin's question was answered with a silent head nod and eyes filled with shame. He softened his voice as he reached into his wallet for the cash he had on hand. "It's what you're supposed to do. Ain't no shame. That money is for yourself. Give me til tomorrow afternoon to have more. Five grand enough?" 

"Ah, Pop, I don-" 

"We didn't work as hard as we did for nothing. Plus, it's your college fund money we never withdrew. You're lucky your mother hasn't used it for renovations. She's been eyeing your sister's old room for an indoor she-shed or whatever the hell it's called." 

Marvin sounded exasperated by the concept of his wife's latest project, which amused Terry. They hadn't changed since the day he left. They were just two people who had been in love since the day they met and remained committed to supporting each other through the ebbs and flows of life. 

Standing from the kitchen table, Marvin shuffled around the corner to the garage entrance and returned with a ring of keys and a pile of mail. He tossed them at Terry and returned to his seat. 

"What's this?" 

"Keys to GMC outside. Take it. You might need to run it for a little bit and change the oil, but it works fine. The rest is your mail." Terry opened his mouth to protest and received a glare from his father in return. "I gave you my best speech about askin' for help, and here you go ruining things. Take the truck before I tell your mama."

"Alright, alright," Terry laughed as he raised his hands. "I love you, Pop." 

"Love you, man. I'm proud of you." Not ones for the warm fuzzies of hugs, the two extended their arms across the table for a quick fist bump before returning to their meals. Marvin let his son eat in peace for a few moments before the corner of his lips curled in a knowing smile. "So…Patrice Ellis, huh? That little love letter you wrote in 10th grade finally coming true?" 

"Pop." 

"Ah, come on. It's alright to be in love, son. She's a good girl. Got good folks, too. What's the holdup?" 

In love? The more Terry attempted to negotiate the gravity of the phrase within himself, the more he had to reckon with the idea that his father may not be that far off base.

Terry slowed his eating and looked at his father for help. "You think I'm in love?" 

"Oh, I know you are. You didn't come back to Fayetteville for me, did you?" 

"How would I know, though? How did you know?" 

Marvin stopped eating to sit back in his chair. A fond smile crossed his face as he thought of his younger years. 

"I knew I was in love when I wanted to show up every day and do the work to be with her. It didn't matter if she pissed me off or if we disagreed about decisions. At the end of every day, I can look at her and know I'm where I want to be forever. Plus, I still get a little fired up when she walks through the door all these years later. I ain't much to look at, but your mother is…" 

Marvin let his sentence drop to whistle at the mention of his wife. Terry pretended to take exception but eventually laughed at his father's antics. He quickly relaxed into a contemplative state. 

"I wanna be the best I can for her," he spoke softly. "I get…sad when she's gone for too long. Sometimes, I find myself forcing conversation just to make her look at me because the light in her eyes is the only thing keeping me grounded most days. What does that mean?" 

"You don't need me to answer that, son. Go with what you know." 

Before Terry could seek more advice, the mechanical roar of the garage door made Marvin nearly spring out of his seat to greet his one true love. 

Outside, Patrice was nearly doubled over from laughter in the front seat. 

Diedra "DeeDee" Richmond was the quintessential Southern black woman. Like a prim and proper belle, she wore her color-treated blonde hair big to match an even bigger personality.  She wore heels with every outfit and never left the house without earrings, but she could also drink and cuss like a sailor. 

When she offered Patrice the chance to tag along for her monthly Sister Circle meeting, there was no chance she'd miss the opportunity to ditch Terry and kick it with the upper crust of Black women. 

"And, girl, Rita thinks we can't tell that she took every one of those appetizers out of the damn freezer section. At least go to the Publix bakery. Finger sandwiches ain't that expensive." 

Amid their gossip session, the garage door's chime caught Dee Dee's attention, effectively ending her one-woman show in favor of giving her husband the eye. Behind him, Terry stood with a nervous smile and puppy dog eyes that he directed at Patrice. 

"Marry a Richmond, child. You'll never lift a finger for the rest of your life. Lord knows I love me some him. Hey, baby!" DeeDee advised as she watched Marvin nearly float to the driver's side to open her door. 

Patrice watched Marvin and DeeDee fawn over each other like teenage lovers until the faint pop of her door opening brought her back to life. 

Terry stood in the gap with his hand out to offer assistance. She accepted without protest, letting him gently pull her from the passenger side with her bags in tow and close the door behind her.

"I missed you." 

Terry's admission came in a sweet voice as he dipped his head to place two chaste kisses on Patrice's lips. Only the knowledge of his parents 10 feet away kept her from turning an innocent display of affection into something vulgar. 

Patrice chased his lips once he pulled away, earning a deep chuckle that vibrated her chest. 

"We kissing in front of the parents now?" 

"Too much," he asked, suddenly embarrassed. 

She used her thumb to wipe lip gloss from his bottom lip before rising to her tip toes to kiss his nose. "No. You're perfect." 

Dee Dee and Marvin watched the young couple giggle at nothing in particular with broad smiles and full hearts. 

"Treece, when's the last time you had some of my red beans and rice?" 

Marvin's question made both of them jump like children caught in the act with the realization that they weren't alone. 

"Way too long," Patrice answered, her stomach almost growling at the mention. 

"Then have dinner with us. We'd love to have you." 

Patrice looked toward Terry for confirmation, making Dee Dee cackle as she started up the stairs into her home. "Child, forget him. Terrence don't run nothing 'round here! Come get this food."

Terry's eyes grew wide at his mother's dismissal while Patrice dissolved into an uncontrollable fit of laughter at his expense on her way into the house. 

"Oh, that's funny," he asked, following her lead. "That's the last time I let y'all hang out unsupervised." 

Three extra hours at Terry's parents' house wasn't enough for the tandem to abandon their new night routine. 

Patrice stood at her bathroom sink, scrubbing the day from her face while Terry made himself comfortable on her closed toilet lid. Sometimes, he read something from Patrice's bookshelf, both preferring to simply exist in the same room. Other times, he watched baseball on his phone and attempted to provide color commentary despite Patrice not showing interest. This time, though, he sat with relaxed shoulders and low eyes while she moved through her beauty routine. 

Something about the sleepytime body wash had him laser-focused on how her legs looked a mile long beneath her nightshirt, oiled to perfection and glistening under the warm vanity lights. He wanted to reach out and touch her. Maybe pull her closer by her thighs and whisper every single nasty thought on his mind below her navel until she promised never to leave his side. 

But, he shook his inner man loose and leaned forward to re-engage with her as she called his name. 

"You know you should use a gentle exfoliant every once in a while. It'll help your breakouts. Use some of my sunscreen, too. It's dangerous for you to let the sun hit your face with no protection."

Blah, blah, blah. Everything she said sounded like a chorus of 1000 angels to him. She could've revealed the cure to cancer, and he would be too lovestruck to notice. 

Knowing his restraint was dwindling, he stood abruptly and stretched his arms above his head with a yawn as she added moisturizer to her face.

Patrice watched him take up space behind her through the mirror, shifting so he could leave something to remember him by on her shoulder and neck. 

"Good night," he spoke between kisses, the words muffled against her skin. 

"Already? It's not that late, is it?" 

"I promised Corey I'd help him with football practice at Francis tomorrow morning."

"He'll run you ragged if you don't speak up." 

"I'll speak up. I promise." 

Using what little space she had, Patrice turned to rest her backside on the counter and face Terry. She used her index finger to hook his gold herringbone chain and bring him down for a kiss. Or kisses. It'd been so long since they could have each other in this way. Time and experience, both together and separately, had them maneuvering like professionals. Each kiss was teasing and sensual in equal measure. A tangible mastery of retreating and aggression made the pursuit of one another worth the wait. 

They'd lost track of their exhibition until Terry's phone buzzing against the toilet seat jolted them back into reality.

Patrice flattened her palms against his chest to create some separation and end what would surely turn into blurred lines if they weren't careful. "Good night, TJ.  Grab that exfoliant out of my shower before you leave. It's in the caddie." 

Terry took the gentle redirection in stride, smiling at her through the mirror before turning to do as she had asked. Patrice used what little focus she could muster to secure her headscarf to her head, desperate to extend her box braids for one more week. 

"What's this?" 

"What's what?" She didn't bother to look away from her task until the low hum of her vibrator caught her attention. She whipped her body around, too stunned to reach for the bright pink toy that had Terry smirking as he examined its buttons. "That is my personal property for personal and private use." 

"When's the last time you used it?" 

"It's been a while. A month or so." Mostly true. She couldn't say she hadn't thought about it more recently.

"Since I've been here?" 

She shrugged. "Kinda hard to get comfortable when there's a person on the other side of the wall." 

The mere sound of the only thing to touch her in two years made the hair on her arms stand at attention. Her eyes darted between the toy and Terry, who made himself familiar with each speed and pattern, cycling through dirty thoughts and intrigue as he held the device against his arm to get a feel for the intensity, 

Setting one? Bearable. A softball. Setting three? Maybe she'd call out his name from the pleasure? Setting seven? Surely, she'd hang on to him like a wet t-shirt on a Playboy model while she rode the crest of her orgasm. 

The possibilities excited him to no end. He needed to test each and every theory.

In two clicks, he returned the toy to its original setting and then off completely, holding it in one hand while taking slow steps to close the gap between him and the only person on his mind. 

She shifted her weight nervously as he approached, unsure how to respond until he towered over her with a look she knew all too well. 

Desire. 

Their senses were heightened. Everything felt surreal, almost as if one misstep could send them flying through a portal back to a more disappointing reality. 

Terry could smell the faint hint of mint on Patrice's breath before dipping his head to nip at her bottom lip with his teeth. She responded like he knew she would by making him work for his prize. Patrice never let him intimidate her. Not for their first time together all those years ago, certainly not now. 

He chuckled before leaning in again, this time leaving a trail of short kisses from her jaw to her clavicle. He inhaled deeply, breathing in vanilla and the subtle spice of his cologne from moments earlier.

Suddenly, Patrice felt weightless. Her feet dangled briefly and without warning as Terry took her from standing to sitting on the cold, hard counter before she could protest. 

Patrice fought for stability, using the peaks and valleys across the expanse of his muscled arms as her anchor in the dizzying experience that was his affection. Her lips parted to draw in sharp breaths and release airy sighs of approval in a feeble attempt to remain present. At the same time, he kissed his appreciation wherever his lips saw fit. Her legs acted under their own power to spread wider and make room for whatever came next. 

Her hands left a trail of tingles as she dragged them from his arms to the back of his head, down the sides of his face, over his tank top, between his pecs, and, finally, into the waistband of his shorts. 

Surprised by her touch, he lurched forward to grab her wrist. "Not this time," he whispered, unsure he meant what he was saying. 

Patrice nodded in understanding, earning a sloppy kiss for her obedience. 

There was no discerning where his mouth ended, and hers began. They were on one accord, hungrily tasting, exploring, and consuming each other without holding back. 

Then, the low hum returned. This time, it was closer than Patrice remembered. 

Cold silicone soon caressed her inner thigh. A low whimper escaped past her lips as she made eye contact with Terry. He leaned close enough to speak against her mouth. 

"You trust me?" 

"Mhmm," she answered, fighting to keep her eyes open as he moved further up her leg. 

"Let me take care of you, then. Take these off for me." 

Trembling fingers latched onto her boyshorts, pushing them to mid-thigh for Terry to take care of the rest. As quickly as he was gone, he'd returned for another taste of her tongue. Languid and unhurried, he used the time to relax her while slowly inching the vibrator to her center. 

Initial contact made her hips buck forward, and her head softly hit the mirror behind her. Terry chased her with sloppy kisses at the base of her neck. 

The slow and steady setting was enough to get her wet and sticky. Terry'd be lying if he said the thought alone didn't have him wanting to renege on his early statement and dive in with reckless abandon. But, he remained steadfast in his pursuit of her pleasure. 

Once the initial shock had worn off, Patrice ground her hips slowly, making small circles while the vibration worked to settle her nerves. Terry took a break from leaving praises in the form of kisses on her throat to smile at his girl. 

"You're beautiful. You know that?"

She gripped his chin and pulled him closer for a fiery kiss that he let her lead. "Yeah. But, I love to hear you say it." 

"Good," he answered, grinning at her confidence as he upped the intensity on her vibrator. Her eyes clamped shut as her entire body tensed. "Stay with me." 

A deep, steadying breath turned into a silent scream as Patrice gave in to the natural urge to hold her breath. Terry used his free hand to sneak up her tank top and grope one breast while pressing his lips to her ear. 

"Breathe, baby. In and out." He modeled the behavior until she found the strength to match his tempo. "There you go. You feel good?" 

"Yes, yes," she whisper-chanted to the ceiling, her head thrown back in unimaginable euphoria. 

"I want you to feel this good every day. You deserve it, right?" 

A twisting, turning feeling at the pit of her stomach forced her to draw in a deep breath to steady herself. Her answer came in a soft moan. "Right." 

"Damn right." Pressing his forehead to hers, he zeroed in on each of her features twisted in unthinkable pleasure. 

She kept her mouth open to sigh and moan as she saw fit. Her nostrils flared in a rhythm as she tried to force herself to breathe through every peak and valley of the moment. Her brows were knitted, and her eyes closed as if she were too afraid to look at him. He wondered what she was thinking. 

Did she want him inside of her as much as he wanted the same for himself? Was she yearning for more pressure? Could she feel how much he loved her?

"Don't get quiet on me. I want everything. Let 'em hear you. You need more?" 

A quick glance down helped him reposition the vibrator on her already sensitive bud, earning a guttural curse as appreciation for his good deed. 

"Fuck! Don't move. Please don't move." 

Terry obliged for the moment, too entranced by his view of her flower on full display for his viewing pleasure. Glistening. Wet. Beautiful. Appetizing like nothing he'd ever seen before. He pulled the toy away and replaced its presence with his thumb. Slow circles and firm pressure made her want to close her legs to escape the overwhelming stimulation, but her attempt was futile. She was at his mercy. 

"Damn," he whispered to himself, enamored by the way her body reacted to his touch. 

Every revolution around her clit brought with it more wetness at her entrance and indentations in his arms from her nails gripping for dear life. 

It wasn't enough to touch her. He needed to taste. 

Using his middle and ring fingers, he teased his introduction with gentle brushes against her inner lips. She keened for more against his mouth as she held his face close. He granted her wish and pushed into her slowly, immediately feeling her warmth envelop his long digits. 

Their mouths hung open, breaths being traded between the two as he set a slow pace. Not enough to bring forth a release. Just enough for Terry to get what he came for. 

Removing his fingers left him with a coating of clear arousal nearly dripping to his knuckles. Patrice watched him as he smirked at the sight, examining it like a jeweler appraising precious diamonds. 

When he'd seen enough, he put both fingers into his mouth and closed his eyes to savor the taste. Patrice's mouth hung open as if waiting for her turn to experience the wonders of her juices. 

Had she closed her eyes for even a second, she would have missed Terry extending his tongue from his mouth to allow a mixture of his saliva and her essence the chance to slide from his tongue in anticipation of a new host. 

Something profound and hungry within her made her lean her head back and hold her tongue out to receive all that he had to give. It excited her, delighted her, and aroused her like never before.

Like a lewd work of art, spit connected their tongues in what would otherwise be seen as an infraction among more proper circles. But fuckin' wasn't proper, and all forms of affection were welcomed in their home. 

Almost immediately, Terry rushed to reward her with a wild and frenzied kiss that nearly surprised him. 

Primal. Carnal. Intense. Fucking disgusting. He loved every minute of it.

The race was on. Terry kept their lips connected as he returned the vibrator to her clit, dialing up the settings to a level below their max. 

Patrice's moans and his couldn't be distinguished from one another. Her hips bucked wildly. Her fingernails left marks in their wake as they scratched at his arms and back. Her body twitched and seized in anticipation of the inevitable. 

"Oh my - fuck!" Satisfied tears slid from the corners of her eyes and down her cheeks to her man's awaiting lips. "Terrence!" 

Terry remained locked in. A man possessed. A one-track mind focused on nothing other than completing the mission. 

The first stage of her orgasm came without a warning. Heat washed over her as if she'd stepped outside at high noon, making her skin almost unbearable to live in. Her toes curled, her voice caught in her throat despite the intense desire to release a scream from the depths of her soul into the atmosphere. 

She thanked Terry and God in Heaven for blessing her with the opportunity to touch the moon and the stars without ever leaving her home. Terry used his free hand to grip and massage her thighs, knowing that the best was yet to come. 

Patrice's voice began to climb as the main event approached. Shallow breaths gave way to loud gasps for air, which came rapidly while she did the same. She was suspended in a beautiful bliss and already sad about the prospect of coming down. 

Her lover reveled in the opportunity to see her unraveling at the seams. 

"I'll always come back to you, beautiful. No matter what, okay? Look at me." His request earned intense focus from Patrice under hooded eyes. "You're so pretty. Say it back to me. Tell me you're pretty."

"I'm so pretty!" Impending release sent all her words out in one breathless sentence. 

He smiled at her compliance. "I know you're close. Hold my hand."

Her fingers scrambled against the counter, filling the spaces between his fingers and gripping with enough force to turn her knuckles a lighter shade of brown. 

"That's my girl. I love you," was all he could manage before Patrice let out something akin to a squeal, turning his declaration into background fodder. 

Sensitive, overstimulated, and completely spent, the after-effects of her release had her panting to recover. Her ears rang with a heady feeling that could only be compared to a few puffs of homegrown bud. 

Terry held her through it all, propping her up while her body sagged against him for stability. He put aside the vibrator to run his palms up and down her legs while he showered her temple with whispered praises and sweet kisses. 

He waited until her breathing was even before gingerly pressing his forehead to hers. "You good?" 

His smirk was incredibly smug. He was proud of himself, and for good reason. She was open to giving credit where credit was due. 

"You can never leave this house without me again. I hope you're happy." 

"That's the whole point. My granny taught me some things during them summers down in New Orleans, you know?" 

"Oh, so this is some magic shit?" 

"Family business, baby. Gotta have the last name to find out." A playful glint in his eyes and a squeeze to her waist made Patrice's stomach feel butterflies that she thought would never return. Terry tapped her nose with his index finger and stepped back. "Stay put. I'll clean you up." 

Patrice scoffed. Stay put. As if she could go anywhere. As if she wanted to go anywhere.

Like the perfect gentleman, Terry was tender with his care. A warm towel to soothe sore muscles and ensure a thorough cleanup was mandatory. The extra loving was complimentary for only his favorite lady. 

"Stay with me tonight," Patrice requested as he slid her panties back up her legs. 

He shook his head and smiled while prompting her to lift her hips. "I don't know if that's a good idea, Treecey." 

"I just wanna be next to you. Nothing more." 

Terry regarded her doe-eyed plea with a small smile as he helped her off the counter. He pulled her into an embrace, fiending for one more kiss. She obliged happily until he'd had his fill. 

His hands slid from her sides to her ass for a generous squeeze before answering. 

"Okay. Whatever you want. Let me handle something real quick, and then I'll meet you there." 

Patrice accepted her victory with a silly happy dance before turning to make enough room in her bed for an extra person. Terry sent her on her way with a light tap to her ass, amused by how something as simple as sleeping next to each other was exciting for her. 

Once she was safely out of the bathroom with the door shut behind her, he finally found time to take a deep breath and compose himself. The actual test of his strength was in the next room, and he couldn't risk the trust he'd worked so hard to build. 

After adjusting his shorts, he picked up his phone and sat on the toilet lid, hoping that watching dog videos or Nationals highlights would clear his mind.

He had every intention of opening the web browser on his phone until he noticed a series of messages from an old friend.

From: McBride 

You check your mail? 

Trial against chief starts in two weeks. Gonna need you to testify to take him down

Know you said you weren’t coming back

Do it for Mike

---

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @oniccah @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @deja-r

[its-time-to-write]

Hi there!! I absolutely adore your writing, and I was wondering if I could request a little something about Jamie being your guest to a wedding?? Just something sweet and fluffy because I feel like he’d be a spectacular wedding date. Love you!!

Here you go! Haven’t been able to write as much this week, I had finals and in between tests and papers, I’ve been pretty much living at the doctor’s. My brain is feeling a little fried, so I hope this is a coherent fic because I’ve tried to proofread a bunch and it all just looks like squiggles to me, so… anon, if you read this, send me your honest feedback in my inbox. Love ya!🍊💚

i’m glad you exist

“What’s this?” Jamie asks from his position on your kitchen island. 

You glance up from the stove. “What’s what?” 

He holds up an envelope rimmed in gold. 

“Oh, that’s an invite to my old roommate’s wedding. Remember I told you about her? Calls everyone ‘queen?’”

Jamie’s face shows recognition. “Right, yeah, she the one dating that motivational speaker?”

You laugh. “Yeah, they got together a month after I met her. He lived one floor down. Anyway, their wedding’s in a few months so I left the invitation out so I’d remember to RSVP.”

Jamie’s engrossed in the details on the invitation. “Says you can bring a plus one.”

“Yeah,” you reply, “probably won’t though. It’s back home, so, it’s not just a weekend-type deal. My mom and dad want me to come stay for like a week and a half.” You turn back to the stove and narrowly avoid burning the food. “You like your dinner a little crispy, right?”

“Babe,” Jamie says slowly, “you stayin’ with your parents?”

“Nah,” you say, transferring the food onto plates, “too crowded. And loud. My mom always has all the grandkids over all the time.” Your older sister has two kids, and your older brother has three. “She offered, but I told her I’d just get an AirBnB or something.”

“Y’know,” he says, taking the plates and moving to the table, “it’s on the off season. Don’t have any branding deals that week either.”

“Jamie,” you begin, a smile beginning to spread across your face, “are you offering to go to this wedding with me? And meet my parents?”

Jamie shrugs nonchalantly. 

“You are!” you say gleefully, “Oh my god, my mom is going to lose her mind. You know she absolutely loves you, right? She talks about their trip out here all the time. And this time you can meet my whole family, like my sister and her husband, they’re definitely my favorite because my niece and I have the same middle name. Plus my brother is always busy with work and his wife is cool, I guess, but we don’t have a lot in common? Except one time we watched High School Musical together, and she knew all the dances and all the words! It was crazy. And we’ll definitely have to go to the beach, do you know how to surf-?”

You ramble on happily as Jamie just grins at you, digging into his food. 

—

It’s wedding week, and your dad picks you up from the airport. You and Jamie are on your way to your parents’ house before checking into your own house and you’re confident that most of your family is going to be there. Your parents are the only ones who have met Jamie in person, and right now your dad and Jamie are in the front of the car chatting on about who knows what. You just know you’re tired, and you’re grateful that your dad picked you up a coffee. You’re probably going to steal Jamie’s too, because he does not need more energy and yours is gone way too quick. It’s nice to be home. The sun is shining, and the streets are familiar. You’re looking forward to seeing your old friends, and showing off your gorgeous footballer boyfriend.

They’d all heard about him of course, and were more than thrilled that you had finally found someone who actually liked being around you. That sounds terrible. You’re not annoying. You just have a habit of being with men who see you as a chore, not for the wonderful person you are. The person Jamie sees you to be.

You’re pulling into the driveway, and just as you suspected, the entire family is there. You notice your brother’s Range Rover and your sister’s Jeep. You smile to yourself. How very like them.

You hop out of the car, grab Jamie’s hand, and the door is open before you even make it all the way up to it. Your mom’s arms are open for a hug which you reach for except she turns away at the last moment and hugs Jamie first?

“Mom!” you say, laughing, “I’m your literal daughter and I haven’t seen you in forever!”

She smiles and pinches Jamie’s cheek. “I’ve spent more time with you than with him. You’ll survive.”

She wraps you in a warm hug then says, “Come meet the family, Jamie! And you’re staying for dinner. You can get to your house after you’ve taken a break.”

You shake your head and Jamie just grins. Poor boy has no idea what he’s getting himself into.

—

Jamie was thoroughly interrogated by your family, including your nieces and nephews (“Why do you call it football instead of soccer? Did you bring us candy?”). You’re both so exhausted that as soon as you walk through the door of your AirBnB, you collapse onto the bed, fully clothed.

—

It’s the day of the wedding, and you’re stressed. You’d been fine until the exact moment that you and Jamie began walking up to the venue. Everything is fine, you’re walking hand-in-hand, but then you just stop. 

“Jamie,” you say, tugging on his hand, “Jamie I can’t do this.”

He turns to you in surprise. “What d’you mean you can’t do this?” 

“I mean, it’s a lot of people I haven’t seen in forever and I don’t know, I’m just freaking out.”

Jamie laughs of all things. “Babe, it’s all right. Look, you’re with me, yeah? And I’m fucking amazin’. And you’re fucking amazin’. So whatever you’re worried about, ain’t a problem.”

Sometimes you forget how cocky Jamie can be. And how much it can boost your confidence. 

You blow out a breath. “Thanks babe. You’re right, it’ll be fine.”

—

It was more than fine. Like, way more than fine. Your friend looked lovely, and she was overjoyed to see you, and Jamie was the absolute best. He befriended your entire table and insisted you dance with him for every song. He was weirdly good at it, too. 

“It’s all in the hips, babe,” he said.

It definitely was.

Your favorite part, though, is the last dance. 

It’s a slow song, and the only people left were couples. The bride and groom had left, sneaked out a back door because she hated send-offs, so everything was winding down. 

Jamie has your hands in his, and brings them to loop around his neck.

“You alright?” he whispers. You nod. “Good,” he says, voice still low. “Wanted to make sure you had a good time. I fucking love weddings. The dancing, the food… you.” He grins and you smile back. “You look fucking gorgeous, by the way. Not sure I mentioned it earlier.”

You’re blushing now, swaying to the music as his hands circle your waist.

You say, “Thanks for coming with me, Jaim. I don’t think I would’ve had as much fun without you.”

Your hands are on the sides of his face now, thumbs tracing his cheekbones.

You lean up to kiss him and right before you do he whispers, “Gonna be us someday, yeah?”

You forget how to breathe for a moment, opting to nod instead.

Jamie smiles, and leans down to finish what you started. 

[imtrashraccoon]

I dunno why this one seemed to take me longer than the previous one to write as they're pretty much the same length. Meh, it's a solid chapter with plenty of comfort and a teensy bit of spice.

@owl-bones

First Day, Previous Day, & Last Day.

Bad Sansuary: Free Space - Scars

Word Count: 2,889

Feat. Axe & Killer!

Today was another difficult one. You couldn't put your finger on an exact reason why but you were just feeling down. You'd decided to just wander around the castle to see if one of the boys wasn't busy. Surely hanging out with someone would help cheer you up.

Just as you passed by the kitchen, you heard some clattering inside like someone was inside doing something. You poked your head in the room to find the exact person you had figured would be cooking right now.

Axe was in the middle of chopping up a small mound of potatoes, presumably to go with dinner later on, and he was already almost through what was there. You couldn't help but admire how dexterously he wielded the large knife that he was using and how perfectly uniform each of the cubes were.

He seemed to be in his element and you almost thought about just leaving so you wouldn't disturb him. He glanced up before you could though, apparently having sensed that you were staring. You had no idea how he kept doing that.

"hey, lil' chip," he greeted. His permanent smile stretched wider into a more genuine one and the corner of his good eye socket crinkled slightly.

"Hey Axe..." You went to go sit down on one of the barstools that were on the other side of the kitchen island where he was working. Folding your arms on the counter, you propped your chin on them so you could watch him work.

"somethin' the matter?" he asked, raising a bonebrow.

You hummed in a non-committal way.

"if ya need to, ya can tell me anythin'." He finished chopping the potatoes and moved them into a pot of water before setting them on the stove to boil.

"I don't know where to start really."

He started getting some spices out of the pantry. "are ya feelin' sick?" he called over his shoulder.

"No, I feel fine... A little tired though I guess."

He emerged from the pantry with a cinnamon stick, the container of peppercorn, and a couple of other ones that you didn't know the names of off the top of your head. He got out a mortar and pestle from the cupboard to start grinding them up before speaking again.

"i'm guessin' you're not sleepin' well then?"

You shrugged, "Nightmare still has to knock me out with magic so I guess not."

Axe grimaced and shook his skull. "that's better than not sleepin'... i could look into some remedies if ya want, besides actual medicine anyways."

"Sure, it couldn't hurt."

You found yourself following the grain of the finished wooden countertop with your eyes for a couple of minutes while Axe continued with whatever he was preparing.

Only when he set a mug with something hot that smelled spicy on the counter next to you, did you look up at him again. He sat down on a bar stool next to you and gently stroked your hair. You continued to sit there quietly while he tried to comfort you with a little bit of affection.

Hearing footsteps, he looked over at the doorway and quirked a bonebrow at whoever had entered the kitchen. You glanced over as well only to find Killer leaning against the wall.

He smirked and tilted his skull in what you thought was curiousity. "what's up?"

Axe hummed before answering, "she's havin' a day..."

Killer nodded in a knowing way and strode up to the kitchen island. He leaned against it and scanned your face thoughtfully.

"aw, you poor thing," he murmured. "maybe we could cheer you up?" He glanced over at Axe who only shrugged in response.

Killer took a seat next to you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, leaning his skull against your head. "i found a new joke if you want to hear it, cutie."

"Is it a good one this time?" you grumbled.

Rather than answer, Killer decided to go ahead and tell the joke. "what do you call a bear with no teeth?" He only paused for a few seconds before adding, "a gummy bear."

You rolled your eyes. It was another lame one.

He tried again. "two men walked into a bar...you'd think at least one of them would've ducked."

Axe chuckled quietly but you could only bring yourself to exhale through your nose.

"did you hear about the claustrophobic astronaut? he just wanted some more space..."

You buried your face in your arms and groaned. "Your jokes are always bad, Killer..."

Axe quietly clicked his non-existent tongue and you heard the distinct sound of bone hitting bone followed by Killer letting out a surprised yelp as he jerked his skull away from you.

"what'd you do that for, big guy?"

"you're bein' annoyin'," Axe rumbled and took one of your hands in his much larger one.

Killer huffed and turned to properly look at him. "let's see you tell a better one then?" he asked in a challenging tone.

Axe paused for a moment as he thought it over, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing circles over the back of your hand. "ok, here's one... how many telemarketers does it take to change a light bulb?"

You looked up at him in a curious manner. "I dunno...how many?"

Before he responded, Axe glanced at Killer, who only shrugged, although he also looked interested in the answer. "only one, but he has to do it while you're eatin' dinner..."

You couldn't help the small smile that flickered over your face. Maybe it was because Axe was the one who'd told it or maybe it was just an actually good joke, you didn't know.

Killer let out a quiet hum of approval, "not bad..." He glanced at you and tilted his skull as he studied your facial expression. His smile fell slightly and he scooted a bit closer to you when he failed to find whatever he was searching for.

"it's not like you to be this quiet... so, what's bothering you?" he asked in a more serious voice.

You sighed and straightened up slightly. While you didn't want to talk about it and risk making them feel bad, they were still concerned about you.

"Well, besides the whole going through literal Armageddon, I guess right now I'm struggling with guilt. Like, I'm the only one who made it out alive and...it feels like I could've done something to help others."

"nightmare wouldn't have rescued anyone else, you know. he helped you because he took a liking to you like we did," Killer said in a matter-of-fact tone. He chuckled and glanced at Axe before adding, "In case you forgot, we're not exactly good people, angel..."

"ya told me yourself that ya weren't close with your family and i know ya didn't have any other close friends. so who would ya have even tried to save anyways?" Axe asked.

"I...don't know..." you murmured and looked down at your hands. "Even though I wasn't particularly close with anyone, I guess I'm just sad that everyone I ever knew is gone."

Both skeletons were quiet for a moment.

Axe finally put his hand on your shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "it's okay to feel this way, lil' chip... it'll probably be rough for a while, but ya aren't alone in this."

"you can come to any of us if you need to talk, okay?" Killer added. "we'll probably understand as we're all survivors of our respective worlds."

You glanced at him and then at Axe, who nodded solemnly. From what they'd told you about themselves, you knew in your soul that they were telling the truth.

The mug of what you thought was tea had cooled off a little bit and you finally took a sip. It was sweeter than you'd expected but not like a sugary sweet. It was also spicy but in a way that made you feel warm and cozy.

You couldn't help but let out a sigh of contentment as the warm, comforting liquid made its way through your system. It was easily the best tea you'd had in a while even though you generally preferred to drink coffee.

Looking over at Axe, you gave him a warm smile. "This is really good. What's it called?" you asked.

He seemed really pleased by your reaction and the corners of his permanent grin quirked up at the edges. He couldn't seemed to restrain his joy and gave your head a gentle pat.

" 's called chai tea. i can show ya how it's made later if ya want more."

You nodded enthusiastically and turned your attention back to the tea, relishing how warm the mug still was against your palms.

"the thing with trauma, is it's somethin' that ya nearly always carry with ya... sometimes 's pretty obvious and other times it isn't," Axe said with a hum.

When you glanced at him, he gestured to the crater in his skull. "i never told ya how this happened i guess..."

You shook your head and he let out a small sigh. He drummed his claws in the countertop for a moment while he collected his thoughts.

"...i don't like to talk about it much," he muttered. You noticed the edges of his deep red eyelight were quivering and he started to reach for the right side of his face, but stopped himself and clenched his fists on the counter.

"You really don't have to if it's that painful..." you started to say.

"no." Axe interrupted and turned to look at you sharply. "i want to tell you. 's not somethin' that bothers me as much anymore..."

You nodded and took another sip of your tea, giving him your full attention. Killer's arms snaked around your waist as he practically sprawled out on top of you. He only smirked when you gave him an unimpressed glare but didn't let go.

"you remember the famine i told you about, right?" When you nodded again, Axe continued, "that wasn't the only issue we had to deal with. the core, the thing powerin' the entire underground, started to fail. i used to dabble with technical stuff and so i stepped in to help..."

He grew quiet again and clenched his fists. "my brother also stepped in to help a friend, who used to be the captain of the guard, rule the underground after the king died... they got into an argument over somethin' trivial, i forget exactly what, and started fightin'... i tried to break them apart but she was too angry to see reason... that's how this happened..."

You furrowed your brows with concern. You'd tried to be careful not to stare at the crack in his skull in the past as it seemed rude and you'd never asked about it either. Before now, you had just thought he'd received it from an accident or from a fight. Although, knowing that a friend was the one who'd hurt him was far worse than either of those scenarios.

"That's awful... I'm amazed you managed to survive and come out of that in one piece."

Axe shook his skull slowly. "not quite... memory's not great anymore and talkin' used to be a lot harder too."

Killer hummed and his hold around your waist loosened a bit. "i changed too," he murmured. "after everything i've been through, my soul became heavily warped and now it's always visible."

"I was always curious about what that was." You briefly glanced at the red target that always seemed to float over his sternum.

"i'm still surprised you never asked me about it...most people can't help but stare." He shrugged and looked away. "i don't mind anymore but it's still my soul, you know? it's still embarrassing when people draw attention to it or touch it without asking first. granted, most aren't alive that long to even focus on it..."

"I can understand how that must feel, being so exposed that is, but I can't imagine having to deal with that all the time," you remarked and squeezed one of his hands in an effort to comfort him.

On second thought, you reached over and placed your other hand on one of Axe's. "You're both so strong... I... Sometimes, I don't think I deserve to have friends who care so much for me like you do." You swallowed in an effort to keep yourself from crying and took a steadying breath.

"Just...thank you... Thank you for always being here for me and trying to make me feel better. Thank you...for sharing your scars with me..."

Axe placed his other hand on top of yours and gave you a gentle smile. "ya don't have to have visible scars to be valid, lil' chip. we'll always be here if you ever need us..."

Killer nodded vigorously in agreement. He chuckled and ran his other hand over the back of yours. "even when you're feeling down, you're still quick to try and comfort people, huh, angel cheeks?"

You rolled your eyes and jerked your hand away from him. "Look, I can't help it... It's basically second nature to me, okay?" you grumbled.

Axe stood up suddenly, causing you to glance over at him, wondering if he was upset. Instead, he seemed happy and held open his arms in the universal gesture for a hug.

You didn't hesitate for a second and squirmed out of Killer's grasp, which he let out a small whine of disappointment over. You didn't care though and immediately went to embrace Axe.

He responded by picking you up and engulfing you in one of his signature bear hugs. You couldn't help giggling from the gesture and tried to wrap your arms around him, but couldn't even span halfway around his ribcage.

"aw, don't leave me out!"

You and Axe both looked over at Killer, who was doing his best to look forlorn. You didn't know skeletons could manage to look so pouty but it was somehow effectively tugging at your heartstrings.

Axe grunted and you swear he rolled his eyelight. "you've been hangin' off of her this entire time so ya don't get to complain..."

Killer stood up and marched over to the two of you. "so? she's too adorable not to hug..." He winked at you and to Axe's frustration, managed to worm his way into the hug.

You didn't mind in the slightest and tried to hug him back, but it was a bit difficult to do so as you were technically pinned between them.

Killer was suddenly inches from your face and his permanent grin morphed into more of a smirk. "i know something that could make you even cuter though~"

You felt your cheeks heat up and you tried to create some distance, but you literally couldn't move. He closed then closed the gap and pressed a kiss against your cheek, with no regard for how embarrassed it made you.

"there we go~" he purred.

Then, one of Axe's large hands grabbed Killer's skull and basically pried him off of you. He tried to reach for you with grabby hands, but Axe was holding him just out of reach. Thankfully, the giant of a skeleton safely set the beanpole on the ground, but then he adjusted the way he was holding you so that you were more out of reach.

"tiny menace," Axe growled, although he didn't really seem angry, just mildly annoyed.

Killer crossed his arms. "i resent that, you're literally the only one taller than me."

"still tiny."

While it was kind of funny watching them bicker, you weren't about to point out that you were shorter than all of them. It was still slightly frustrating that they could just leer over you whenever they felt like it.

Axe clicked his non-existent tongue and shifted his attention over to you. "you're not mad he did that, right?" he asked.

You shook your head but avoided looking directly at Killer for fear of blushing even more. No doubt he'd make a face or do something stupid just to get that sort of reaction out of you.

"i can't let him get away with that, ya know?" His tone was a bit more gruff from before and being this close to him caused it to vibrate throughout your whole body.

"I...uh..." You couldn't seem to formulate a coherent response and you were certain your cheeks had turned a bright pink.

With a low chuckle, Axe pressed a skeleton kiss against your other cheek. As soon as he let go, you ducked your head against his ribcage in an effort to hide how flushed you'd become.

"well that's one thing i can agree with ya with," Axe hummed. "she's definitely cuter this way..."

You weakly punched his shoulder and grumbled under your breath. They were going to be the death of you one of these days, you were certain of it.

Things would be okay eventually or at least, you were confident you'd be able to say that one day. You had actual friends now who would see you through thick and thin, which was certainly more than you had before. You had plenty of time to make many more happy memories too. Maybe you could even make some more friends? Hopefully some more "normal" ones but you weren't betting on it...

[chelseachilly]

THIS LOVE - chapter two | the lights are so bright but they never blind me

pairing: ben chilwell x reader

rating: T

word count: 2.1k

summary: you have to adjust to life in the public eye as ben’s supposed girlfriend...and ben has to adjust to the sight of you wearing his chelsea kit to a game

A/N: thanks for more lovely messages, they really encourage me to update faster lol! i’m sorry this one’s a bit shorter, the next update will definitely be longer 😌 chapter title is from welcome to New York

previous chapter | view all chapters

The morning after the gala, you wake up in Ben’s guest room feeling relaxed and refreshed.

You always seem to get a better sleep when you stay at his, though you’re not sure if that’s due to his comfy mattress and expensive sheets or the fact that he lives out in Cobham and it’s significantly quieter than your own flat.

This state of relaxation lasts for about five minutes, or until you get a text from your friend Valerie asking if you’ve been on Twitter today.

Bracing yourself, you open the app and already see Ben’s name trending.

You’ve gained some followers over the years when Ben has posted you on his socials, but it’s nothing compared to the way people are currently talking about you all over the internet.

It’s not just on Twitter - your Instagram following count has already grown exponentially, and your comments are filled with everything under the sun, from praise to cruelty.

You know Ben gets shit like this all the time, and Mia warned you it would be coming your way, but it’s still surreal to read about yourself online.

Especially when none of it is true. Even the nice tweets about what a lovely couple you make are based on a lie.

You can’t resist going down the rabbit hole for a few minutes, reading pages of tweets from Ben’s fans speculating about your relationship, some negative and some positive. Eventually, you can feel your brain starting to hurt, and you know it’s in your best interest to shut your phone off for a while.

Begrudgingly, you force yourself to get out of bed and face the day. You make your way downstairs in your pyjamas, stretching your arms out as you enter the kitchen.

Ben is already awake, like he usually is at this time, and he’s standing by the stove in joggers and an old Nike sweatshirt, flipping pancakes that you know are not a part of his diet plan.

“Pancakes?” you question, startling Ben a bit as he turns to face you.

“Morning,” he says with a small smile. “Yeah, with blueberries. They’re for you. Figured it’s the least I could do since-“

“Since I’m being torn apart online by football fans?” you joke - or, at least, you mean it as a joke.

Ben’s face falls, his eyes wide with concern, and he sets down the spatula to walk over to you.

“I am so sorry, Y/N,” he says seriously. “I didn’t know it would be like this. I’ve obviously never had a real girlfriend before, so I didn’t think about it.”

“Ben, it’s-”

“I called Shreya as soon as I saw everything and had her prepare an exit strategy, she’s already confirmed our relationship to the press but she thinks we can back out of it if-“

“Ben,” you say a bit more firmly, placing a hand on his arm. “Why would we need to back out of this? Does she not think it’s working?”

Ben just blinks at you for a moment before shaking his head. “Well, no, actually. Apparently I’m getting great press from it, and you’re the one getting all the shitty comments. But I-”

“I’m fine with it, then,” you shrug. “I’ll just make my Instagram private, you know I don’t really care about social media anyways. I’ll be fine.”

Ben still doesn’t look convinced.

“Are you sure? I hate the thought of you having to read that crap,” he mumbles. “I’m used to the pricks, but you shouldn’t have to be.”

“It’s fine, Ben, I swear,” you insist, squeezing his shoulder. “Actually, some of your fans seem to like me. Or they like that I supposedly keep you grounded or whatever bullshit Shreya fed the press.”

“Well, that part’s not total bullshit,” Ben says with a small smile that makes your cheeks flush slightly. “Thank you again for doing this. And you can still change your mind at any time, you know.”

“I know,” you say, mirroring his smile. “Now hurry up before you burn my pancakes.”

“Oh, shit!”

-

By the next weekend, you’ve gotten pretty used to “dating” Ben.

You go private on your socials as you discussed, with the official statement from Ben’s publicist being that you two ask for privacy as a new couple. Naturally, this only makes everyone more interested, including the media.

As Shreya hoped, the headlines now describe Ben as a “man in love” and someone ready to “settle down with a nice girl.” There are tabloid articles with pictures of you two - some from before you were even pretending to date - and all the information they could dig up on you, including your job.

It’s all a bit weird, but the weirdest part is definitely when you have to actually corroborate your story of being Ben’s girlfriend. Which, as far as everyone outside your inner circle is concerned, you now are.

It definitely feels strange lying when, for example, one of the doctors you work with congratulates you on your relationship. (Turns out her son is a Chelsea fan and she wants to know if you could ask him to sign a kit or something, which you promise to make happen.)

You’re relieved when the only event you have to attend this weekend is Ben’s game, which you would’ve gone to anyways. You’re also going with his sister Alex, who is obviously in on the whole thing, which makes it easier.

She meets you at your flat, which is conveniently only about ten minutes away from Stamford Bridge on the tube, an hour before the game.

After you tightly embrace Ben’s sister, who is like a younger sister to you as well, she grins and passes you a small gift bag.

“You got me a present?” you ask in confusion.

“It’s not from me, it’s from Ben,” she chuckles. “He also said to say he’s sorry and that it was Shreya’s idea.”

You open the bag and pull out a familiar article of clothing - a brand new Chelsea shirt with Ben’s name on the back.

Of course, as Ben’s girlfriend, it would make sense that you be wearing his kit.

“Oh, god, let me go change.”

Once you’ve replaced the plain blue t-shirt you were wearing with the shirt Ben sent over, you walk back out and find Alex with an amused look on her face.

“How do I look?” you ask a bit sarcastically as you do a twirl.

“Like a proper WAG,” Alex laughs. “Let’s go, my future sister-in-law.”

You groan as Alex grabs you by the arm and you depart for the match.

Although you’ve come to see Ben play at the Bridge more times than you can count, you have never felt this many eyes on you as you make your way to your seats. There are people not-so-subtly taking your photo as you walk up, probably made all the worse by the Chilwell kit you have on - though you suppose that’s the point.  

The match begins, and you cheer at the top of your lungs for Chelsea, just as you have from the day Ben signed for them. You never really cared that much about football, and you didn’t support any particular club growing up, but you’ve always been Ben’s number one fan.

Today, he’s playing well, making you as proud as ever. It’s not hard to pretend to be the supportive girlfriend when every flawless pass or run forward has you leaping out of your seat with unrestrained enthusiasm.

At half-time, Chelsea are up by 1 against Newcastle, and you and Alex are happily chatting and catching up over a beer.

“I saw all the pics of you guys at the gala on Twitter,” Alex says with a smirk on her face, lowering her voice so nobody overhears. “I know it’s weird to say since you’re basically part of the family, but you actually look quite good together.”

“Ew, Alex, there’s no way,” you insist, a slight blush creeping onto your cheeks. “He’s…Ben.”

Alex just laughs and drops the subject as the game resumes and the boys come back out of the tunnel.

Around the 85th minute, with the score now tied 1-1, Ben comes running up the side and makes an excellent pass to Conor, who scores and secures the win. You jump out of your seats to cheer as the guys celebrate on the pitch, you rolling your eyes with affection as Ben and Conor jump up and down with excitement.

The whistle blows shortly after with Chelsea leaving victorious, and you and Alex make your way down to the tunnels to meet up with Ben. With this being their fourth win in a row, the atmosphere at the Bridge is electric, a far cry from last year’s rough season.

It’s so nice to see Ben so happy again, and the smile on his face only seems to grow tenfold when he spots you and Alex making your way over to him.

You can’t resist picking up your pace to a light jog as you move toward him, and his arms are already open to pull you into a tight hug that lifts your feet off the ground and makes your heart soar in a similar fashion.

“That assist was brilliant,” you murmur into his shoulder before he sets you down.

Ben pulls away, still beaming at you, his sweaty hair curled down over his forehead.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he smiles, his eyes wandering to the shirt you’d almost forgotten you were wearing.

It’s not the first time you’ve worn his kit - his England debut and the Champions League final come to mind - but those were special occasions, with the rest of his friends and family wearing it too. This is obviously different, and although Ben sent it over for you to wear, his eyes are locked to you like he’s trying to memorize every thread of the fabric.

You can’t figure out why he seems so transfixed, but you don’t have much time to dwell on it before you’re interrupted.

Alex clears her throat, snapping Ben out of whatever trance he was in, and he pulls her in for a hug.

“So, to celebrate the win and Ben’s assist, I’m thinking he should take us out for a nice dinner?” Alex suggests, smiling and nudging your arm.

“Shouldn’t you be buying me dinner?” Ben raises an eyebrow. When you both just laugh, he rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Alright. I’ll go shower, you make a reservation somewhere.”

After you and Alex have picked out the fanciest-looking sushi place you could find online and collected Ben from the changing rooms, you make your way to his car. Just like after every game, the paparazzi are out trying to get videos and photos of the players leaving the stadium.

This time, however, most of the attention seems to be directed at you.

The lights begin to flash the moment you exit the building, and Ben reaches down to take your hand without a second of hesitation. Whether it’s to flaunt your “relationship” further or just to comfort you, you’re not sure, but it’s definitely working either way.

“Y/N, did you enjoy the match today?”

You know you don’t have to answer any of their questions, but you’d rather not be branded as cold or rude as the media loves to do when a woman ignores them.

So you squeeze Ben’s hand and nod, smiling at the man recording you.

“Of course, the team played really well.”

“And what did you think of Ben’s performance?” they fire back at you.

“He was amazing,” you say without missing a beat. “I always love watching him on the pitch.”

You can see Ben smiling at you as you speak - a genuine smile that you know has nothing to do with the cameras surrounding you - but he startles you slightly when he leans in to peck your cheek and lets his lips linger there for a moment. They’re soft and warm against your skin, and you feel significantly colder when they pull away.

You’ve clearly spurred on the media even more with this sudden display of affection, but Ben begins to pull you along with him and help you into the car before either of you has to answer any more questions.

You breathe out a sigh of relief as you settle into the passenger seat, Ben and Alex entering the car moments later.

“Nice show, you two,” Alex laughs, obviously still amused by the sight of you and Ben pretending to be a couple.

“You okay, Y/N?” Ben asks, looking over at you. “Sorry if the cheek kiss was too much. I know it’s a bit awkward.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you assure him, rolling your eyes. “It’s fine. Of course it’s gonna be awkward sometimes, but as long as it’s helping with the PR plan, right?”

Ben nods gratefully and smiles at you once more before asking Alex for directions to the sushi place.

You’re grateful for her chatting away about how hungry she is, and for the song Ben is playing loudly through the speakers as you drive to the restaurant, both of which are helping to distract you from how alarmingly not awkward this all feels.

A/N: let me know what your thoughts are after this chapter!! things start to heat up in the next one i promise ;)

tag list: @lunamelona @kathb59 @captainwans​ @amandaaa1025 @bbygrlllllll @cinderellawithashoe​ @batmansb1tch​ @ncentic​ (let me know if you would like to be added!)

[beardedjoel]

closer | part six

joel x f!reader. non-apocalypse au.

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3  

chapter summary: joel pays you a late night visit after a day of flirty texting. 6.5k words.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, age difference (joel is 42 and reader is 25), soft!dom joel, oral (m receiving), size kink (big dick miller you know how it is), hand grinding,/riding, dirty talk, praise kink, reader is a menace this chapter

You wake up still feeling like you’re living in some kind of a dream the next morning. Two weeks ago you would have laughed at the concept of Joel fucking Miller eating you out until you begged him to stop, yet here you are, on the other side of that exact experience from last night. Despite the fact that you feel a bit embarrassed remembering your hazy, sleepy begging to stay over his house, you feel good about the whole thing. Amazing, actually. You start to flush all over again when the image of him, lifting his face from between your legs and looking right into your eyes flashes through your mind. You let out a contented sigh, sliding yourself out of bed to get ready for the day. 

It’s a Friday, and normally your parents would be working but they both took a day off for a doctor’s appointment for your dad and to get some major unpacking done, which you’re roped into, of course, as part of your deal with staying here. 

You shower and change into some loose, comfortable clothing and as you’re opening the door, you see a small piece of paper taped to it on the outside. You pull it off, tilting your head to the side with curiosity as you unfold it. 

Won’t be around tonight - work outing. Text me something to let me know you’re thinking of me

Joel

He’d written his phone number underneath his name, and you smile giddily at this little piece of him you’re holding right now. You study the handwriting, just admiring the boyish, sloppy strokes of the pen and the way he writes his own name. You quickly punch the number into your phone and save it, after debating what to even put for his contact name. Putting down Joel Miller seems so… formal for a guy who had his tongue inside of you last night, so you just settle on ‘Joel’.

You look forward to thinking of the perfect text to send him, but luckily you have this relatively busy day ahead of you to keep your mind off the fact that you won’t be seeing Joel tonight. You don’t want to end up seeming too desperate anyways, texting him the second you get his number. 

Your parents are in the kitchen, your dad hovering near your mom on crutches as she’s cooking. He’s trying so hard to be helpful despite barely being able to get around right now, but you smile watching him add some salt and pepper to the eggs on the stove to seem productive. They both turn when they hear you opening the sliding glass door. 

“Good morning!” you mom and dad call in unison, sounding suspiciously chipper for the busy day they have ahead of them. 

“Morning,” you reply, stifling a yawn. “What can I get started on?” you ask. 

“You don’t want to eat? We made plenty,” your dad says. 

“Sure,” you shrug, getting plates and silverware out before making yourself a plate of eggs, toast, and bacon. You sit down, and your parents join you a few moments later. You’re too busy digging into your food to notice the look they’re both giving you at first. You glance up, then do a double take because you notice both of their faces, a mixture of stunned, amused, and concerned. You stop chewing, darting your eyes around, feeling like you’re missing something. 

“Where the hell did that come from?” your mom says, her tone uncharacteristically demanding for her. 

“Wh- where did what come from?” you ask, furrowing your brow feeling genuinely confused. 

You see it in what feels like slow motion, your mom reaching up to her own neck to indicate, and you choke a little on your food as your cheeks go completely red and your stomach bottoms out. You hadn’t even thought about trying to cover up all the marks Joel had left on you - you’ve never really had many hickeys before. You’d just rolled out of bed and barely even noticed yourself in the mirror this morning, and now you wish you could go back in time to do that so you could avoid feeling like you’re going to die of embarrassment. 

“Uh…” your throat makes a strained sound, pushing air out but no words come. “I - uh, oh my god,” you say, giving up and hiding your face in your hands. You simply hear both of your parents cracking up now, and a bit of relief sweeps through you. You know they are pretty open minded, but you don’t want to admit the whole truth to them about Joel or discuss anything remotely having to do with your sex life.

“I may have gone out… at night… met some people,”’ you lie, miserably trying to make up a story on the spot as you peek out at them from behind you hands. “It’s really nothing, I swear.”

Your parents are both smiling at you with an intrigued expression. “As long as you’re being safe,” your dad comments, and you feel like passing out again. 

“God… dad, I know,” you reply, giving him a look of pained disgust. 

“Alright, alright, it’s not our business,” your mom jumps in. “Just gave us a surprise, those are quite the marks you’ve got there...” Your mom leans a little closer to inspect them and you lean back, trying to swat her away. 

“Okay, that’s enough breakfast for me! I’m going to get started on… something. Literally anything that is not in this room right now,” you ramble, getting up from the table and clearing your plate before heading to the living room, where you can hear your parents still laughing with each other over your misfortune. You roll your eyes and pull out your phone, opening a new message. 

9:13am

You: Hi

Joel: About time you reached out. I was worried you weren’t going to

You: My parents accidentally saw all of my hickeys… thanks a lot

Joel: Bad to say I’m laughing right now?

You: It’s not funny!!! I’m mortified within an inch of my life. I had to make up some story about where I got them

Joel: Sorry baby, but it is funny. Was it at least worth it?

You: Absolutely worth every bit of embarrassment I’m feeling right now

Joel: Thought so ;) 

You decide to get on with your morning, your mom joining in and then enlisting you to help them unpack their book room. There’s only two bedrooms in this house and an entire one is being dedicated to all their bookshelves and a reading nook. You do think it’s rather cute, how much your parents love to read together, despite them liking completely different genres.

Your mom has a whole system mapped out for organizing the books, and you’re trying your best to follow it, despite not understanding the way that woman’s mind works sometimes. She keeps eyeing you the entire time, and you can tell it’s not to check that you’re following her system - she wants to say something.

“Alright, out with it,” you say, rolling your eyes a little. You’re sitting on the floor, surrounded by books, organizing the piles while your mom places them on the shelves just right.

“Nothing, nothing,” she throws her hands up. “You’ve just surprised me today, that’s all. I just didn’t realize you were… going out.”

“It was just once or twice, I wanted to see if I could meet any people in Austin.” You shrug, and you realize now how your comment sounds when your mom lifts her eyebrows as if to say you sure did meet some people, judging by your neck.

“Not meet people like that. I’m not even trying to date anyone right now. Just met someone and we had a quick… thing. Please, can we stop talking about this forever?” You stop moving books and rub your eyes, desperately hoping she’ll drop it. You don’t like lying about everything with Joel, but you two haven’t even established anything about anything when it comes to your relationship. There’s no need to drag your parents or anyone else into it right now.

“Alright, fine, fine,” your mom concedes, and you sigh in relief. “I’m glad you’re trying to get out there more. Just making sure you’re okay.”

“I’m okay, I promise,” you reply, and it feels good to finally be saying one true thing to her today. You’re more than okay - you’ve felt like you’re floating through these last two days, knowing what’s waiting for you in the evenings now. Joel.

You two work for another hour, thankfully talking about things that aren’t related to your sexual escapades, but your mom does bring up asking Joel to do a consultation on some things at the house and you cringe, but you don’t have any good reason to tell her not to do it. After all, she was completely enamored with the way he’d helped you fix the gate and kitchen cabinet, so it was the perfect setup for her. You can’t bear the thought of him tearing out walls, or fixing bathroom tiles, or whatever the hell it is your parents have planned, while you four are all in the same house. You’d have to go into hiding, you think, to avoid feeling like a total fraud around them. How would you be able to hold back the absolute ‘fuck me’ eyes you know you have around him? You’re beyond grateful when your mom leaves for your dad’s doctor’s appointment and you don’t have to tiptoe around subjects anymore. 

Your phone buzzes while you’re eating lunch, still surrounded by the books that have yet to be shelved, and you check in, seeing that Joel has reached out to you again.

12:37pm

Joel: Checking in to see if you’re still dying from embarrassment?

You: It’s literally going to haunt me forever. At least I stayed busy with unpacking, but I think my mom is going to ask you to fix stuff in the house now because you were a little too generous before

Joel: Is that what you call what we did last night?

You: Too generous… sounds about right…

Joel: Not generous enough, if you ask me

Joel: Happy to help if she needs it, but stay out of the room so they don’t see me checking out your ass and ask too many questions

You: Okay now who’s the insatiable one?

Joel: Still you

You: I am thinking about you a lot today…

Joel: Thinking what about me?

You: You know what!

Joel: Humor me

You chuckle, biting your lip as you think for a moment about your response before quickly getting back to typing on your phone. 

You: Thinking about last night and the night before

You: About your hard cock

You: Your fingers inside of me, making me come like crazy

You’re midway through typing your next message in this horny ambush when Joel texts back.

Joel: Woah woah, trying to work here

You: You tease, you asked!

Joel: Still glad I did

Joel: But it makes me sorry we can’t see each other tonight. I’ll probably be back late

You: That’s okay, have fun :)

Joel: Not sure I can now, I’ll just be thinking about you sweetheart

You smile and giggle a little to yourself, feeling butterflies at the thought of Joel thinking about you all day in any sense at all. 

Joel is having a mess of a day at work. Shit, he thinks to himself for a solid thirty minutes at least after reading the texts you’ve sent about him making you come. And now it’s all he can think about, fighting his dick getting hard for half the day as he tries to focus on keeping his team in line and getting their work done. Tommy seems to notice Joel’s distracted mind, but doesn’t say anything just yet, and for that Joel is grateful. 

In the end, Joel can’t stop his thoughts from drifting back to you. Just how absolutely mind blowingly good you’d felt as you came around his fingers and into his mouth, and the look on your face when you realized there was no way he was stopping at just one orgasm. He knows he could’ve gotten another one out of you last night after those three, and the thought of seeing you that fucked out and desperately writhing for him is practically what’s getting him through the day. One day, he’s going to get you to truly beg him to stop making you come, and he feels a slightly uncomfortable twitch in his jeans at the thought.

Tommy gives Joel a sly look as he catches Joel checking his phone yet again. 

“I see things are going well,” he chides, and Joel rolls his eyes a little. 

“Just… seeing how things play out,” Joel answers mostly honestly. Tommy hasn’t asked so Joel hasn’t felt the need to share that things had progressed between the two of you.

“Brother, I don’t know the last time I saw you like this,” Tommy says with a shake of his head.

“I know,” Joel runs a hand down his face, sighing. “I’ll get my head back in the game, sorry Tommy.”

Joel didn’t know exactly how he was going to do that, when images of you from last night accompanied by sexy little texts were floating through his mind, but he would damn well try. 

You’re yawning, leaned up against your pillows, feeling like the most elderly 25 year old in the world as you see that it’s barely even 9:30 and you’re already ready for bed. You haven’t heard anything else from Joel, and you’re glad that means he’s hopefully having a fun time out with his work crew. You can’t help that you’re still a bit disappointed you aren’t seeing him again tonight, but you think maybe it’s a good thing, to get a little separation from these last few nights to clear your head a bit. Your phone buzzing next to you takes you out of your thoughts, and you can’t stop the immediate smile when you see Joel’s message pop up. 

9:34pm

Joel: Missing you baby, what’re you up to?

You begin to type a message back, but then pause, having an even better idea strike you. You immediately rifle through your underwear drawer frantically, finding one of your favorite black lace pairs and changing into it. You peel off your shirt and settle yourself on your bed, covering your tits with one hand and forearm and angling the camera on your phone to get a teasing image down your chest and all the way to your panties as you lay down. You decide to flip over and take another one of just your ass, showing off the cheeky design of the black lace that covers only half of your behind. You giggle to yourself most of the time, feeling so ridiculous but happy to be doing this for Joel. You sit on the edge of your bed and scroll through the embarrassing amount of photos you’d just taken to try and get it perfect, and choose one of your front and backside to send to Joel. Your fingers shake a little as you hit send, realizing these are your first risque photos you’ve ever sent anyone. You feel weirdly nervous, hoping he’ll like them, that they aren’t too much, that you look hot enough in them. You’ve already decided on the perfect message to go with the photos, quickly typing it out and sending it along. 

You: Just wishing you were here right now so you could fuck my face

Your phone pings barely moments later, and you grin into the screen as you read Joel’s response.

Joel: Fucking hell

Joel: You naughty girl… Can’t believe you’d sent that while I’m out in public

You: Oops :)

You: Heading to sleep, goodnight!

Joel: You’re unbelievable

Joel: Goodnight ;)

You’re dozing with the TV on but muted, the colors and lights of the screen flashing through your otherwise dark room. You stir awake, unsure of what exactly caused it, but you roll over and try to close your eyes again. A sound comes, and it must be what woke you - a tapping on the door to your apartment. Your face scrunches up in equal concern and annoyance - who the hell would be doing this in the middle of the night? You check your phone - it’s 11:30pm. You slide out of bed and pad over to the door, unlocking and then opening it. 

Joel is standing there, slightly disheveled from his evening out in a long sleeved plaid shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and jeans. His hair is mussed slightly, but you always love it when it’s like that. You’re slightly annoyed that he woke you up, but you immediately grin incredulously at the sight of him. 

“Wh-?” you start to ask, wide eyed, but he’s already moving his way through your door, stepping past you and into the room.

“Couldn’t get me fuckin’ your pretty face out of my mind since you said it,” Joel says gruffly, looking back towards you with a little smirk. 

You cross your arms, trying to feign an unimpressed attitude, despite being immediately excited about his presence. “I see,” you say with a quirked brow, approaching him and running a hand delicately along his arm. “You woke me up, you know.”

Joel leans down, pressing his forehead against yours. “I’m sorry, baby. I can go, if you want.”

“No,” you call out quickly, almost too desperately. This is the first time he’s offering to let you pleasure him in some way, and you feel the need to cling onto it. “That’s okay, I’m happy you’re here.” You try to smile alluringly as you look up at him, and Joel, sensing the urgency in your words, has a wry look on his face. He moves over to your bed and sits on the edge of it, watching you with his head tilted slightly. You immediately feel the warmth of desire spreading through you with the way he’s looking at you in your thin tank top and sleep shorts, his eyes full of hunger and desire. 

“Fuck, look at you,” he murmurs as you draw nearer. You stand between his legs, and for some reason, the nerves kick in, little flips going through your stomach. Something about the way he’s in your space and came by unannounced, wanting nothing but your mouth on him is enough to send you spiraling.

“Think it’s fun to tease me all day like that? Send those pictures?” he asks, grabbing you by the ass and pulling you further in between his legs, your chest level with his face now. He leans his head forward and takes one of your nipples into his mouth through the fabric of your shirt and sucks hard. You inhale sharply and your whole body seems to buck forward with it, the feeling immediately growing the steadily warming pit inside of your core. 

“Y-yes, I do,” you manage to squeak out, and Joel bites gently at the now hard and aching bud beneath your shirt. 

“Of course you do - you naughty, needy thing, wanting me to be hard all day at work, needin’ you on this cock,” he says, pinching your other nipple between his fingers and rolling, looking straight up into your eyes now. You nod slightly, trying to focus despite his movements, grinding your hips forward into nothing, looking for relief as an ache begins to build between your legs. 

“I like being needed by you,” you say quietly, biting your lip as you nervously await his response to your confession. Joel’s face softens a little despite the desire still lurking in his gaze. 

“I know you do, darlin’, you want to be a good girl for me, huh? Make me wanna keep coming back for more?” He stands off the bed and brings a hand up to your cheek, pressing his palm to it and curling his fingers around your head. You’re already falling apart inside, melting at his words that ring a little too true, and feel your cheeks warming.

“Yes,” you breathe out, “Please.”

As if your words were a confirmation to him, Joel moves his hands to your shoulders, turning you around and pushing you gently to sit on the bed while he strokes the skin there with his thumbs. You sit quietly, impatiently awaiting his next move, your chest heaving slightly now with anticipation. Joel doesn’t take his eyes off of your eager expression as he reaches to his belt, jangling sounds as he unbuckles it fills the room and he unzips his pants. He lets them fall to the floor, and you can now see his cock straining against his black briefs. You hesitantly reach out to touch him, but he tenderly takes your wrist and holds it back, shaking his head. 

“So eager, aren’t we?” He arches an eyebrow playfully. You swear your mouth starts to water and the thought of tasting his cock, so you suppose he’s not wrong. He lets go of your wrist, and you drop it down to your side now, watching as he slides a hand down his briefs and rubs his cock, large hands grabbing the length of it, a small groan of pleasure coming out of him.

“F-fuck,” you whimper, squeezing your thighs together as much as you can despite Joel standing in between your knees. You need it, you need him, and all you can focus on is the thought of that cock being somewhere inside of you. Joel is loving every minute of this torture, a little gleam in his eye as he chuckles at you squirming. 

“Okay, sweet girl, you’ve waited long enough,” he coos, lovingly brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. You feel excitement pouring through you when he pulls his briefs down his legs and the full length of his cock sits bare in front of you. You immediately have the urge to lurch forward, take it into your mouth and give him all the pleasure he’s been giving to you, but you think better of it.

“Open,” Joel commands, moving a little closer to you and putting his whole hand against the back of your head, threading his fingers into your hair. You do as he says, your mouth hanging open for him. 

Your tongue comes out, immediately lapping at the head of his cock as soon as it gets close enough, and Joel‘s body jerks at your movement until he relaxes into it. You run slow, swirling circles around it with your tongue, flicking your tongue a bit down into the shaft, eliciting breathy little moans from Joel as you continue your movements down the length of him. Now that it’s so close to your mouth, you’re realizing just how much of him you’re going to have to fit in there, and you want to panic a little bit. Joel seems to sense your apprehension because he begins to stroke the back of your head calmingly with his fingertips.

“It’s okay, baby, I’ll go slow,” he says, attempting to reassure you. You simply give a “mm-hmm” and a nod in approval while you continue working him with your tongue, not missing a beat. You position your head underneath him and lick a long stripe with the flat of your tongue up the length, then move your lips to the head, a silent signal that you’re ready for him. Joel pushes his hips forward carefully, the head going into your mouth, his salty taste taking over every taste bud. You moan a little from the pure anticipation leading up to this moment, wanting to pleasure him like this from the first night you’d spent together. Or, if you’re being honest with yourself, probably from the first day you’d seen him from your parents’ yard. 

“Already lookin’ so perfect on my cock like that, pretty girl,” Joel drawls breathlessly as he pushes a little deeper, your mouth still comfortably taking him in, and his praising words send a rush of wetness between your legs, making you squirm a little bit. He pulls back, his cock sliding almost all the way out of your mouth before he thrusts his hips forward again, this time a little deeper. He continues the motions, moving himself slightly deeper into your mouth each time he pushes himself back into you. It’s becoming a stretch to take this much of him, but you want so badly to be his good girl, to make him happy, so you keep going. His next thrust hits a little too deep and you gag slightly, grasping onto Joel’s thigh for support as tears sting your eyes. He pauses for a moment, but you slide your mouth a few times to let him know it’s okay to keep going. He starts thrusting a little more urgently now that he’s learning your boundaries, his cock repeatedly moving in and out of your warm mouth, and from the groaning sounds he’s making, you know he’s been wanting to do this badly for a while now, much longer than just today. 

When Joel said he was going to fuck your face, he meant it. His hand holds firmly on the back of your head as he thrusts his hips, pumping his cock in and out of your mouth with ragged breaths. 

“My perfect, pretty girl,” he mumbles in between his panting, looking down and watching your mouth take his cock over and over in the dim lighting of the room. “Bet you like this cock in your mouth, want me to push it back as far as I can, don’t you?”  he groans out.

You simply try to nod enthusiastically despite your head being held by him, and he grunts approvingly at your reaction, pushing his dick just that much deeper into your mouth. You fight the urge to choke a little, but you move past the feeling, finding the perfect angle for him to hit in your mouth to avoid it. His praises, the way his cock tastes, it’s overwhelming you and you feel the ache between your legs pulsing, begging you to do something about it. You slide your hand down inside of your shorts, pressing your palm to your pussy and sighing lightly at the relief as your hips immediately begin moving, grinding against your hand. Joel, seeing your movements on the bed, smirks down at you as he catches sight of your hand in your shorts. 

“Fuck, you sweet little thing, liking taking me in your mouth like that - who would’ve thought you’d be such a filthy, cock hungry girl, hm?” he rambles, lost in the moment of his pleasure. You other hand cautiously reaches up, grasping onto the very base of his cock, beginning to pump along the base of it. Joel doesn’t stop you, if anything it seems to encourage him. His moans become a bit louder, and when your own moans vibrate onto his cock from your mouth, it seems like it’s driving him absolutely crazy.

“Yeah, baby, just like that, keep touching that little pussy for me,” Joel moans out, and you have no problem obeying his command. You’re already moving your hips rhythmically onto your fingers now, rubbing your clit quickly and desperately, the pressure of your climax already almost at a breaking point. His cock is throbbing, begging for release, and you begin to add some more movement into the hand on the base, rotating it slightly a few times and then dipping down to cup his balls.

“Fuck,” he grunts, “Yes, sweet girl, s-such a good girl,” he breathes out, stammering a little now. His eyes are closed as he continues to pump his cock into your mouth, his hand gripping even tighter on your head. You’re both in a frenzy, close to climaxing, but Joel seems to be reaching it first. “I’m gonna come right into that throat, baby, you’d like that wouldn’t you?” he says, and you make a moaning sound onto his cock in affirmation. He plunges deep, releasing himself and you feel his cum hit the back of your throat, warm and salty as his body shudders, his muscles tensing. You don’t let up on touching yourself, the feeling of him reaching his climax only sends an even greater ache to your cunt as you push your finger inside of yourself. You can feel his body loosen moments later, and he relaxes, slowly dragging his cock out of your mouth with hazy looking eyes.

He quickly notices your hand still in your shorts, rubbing frantically, and grabs your wrist, pulling it out. You cry out at the movement on your clit suddenly stopping, but Joel has other plans - he lets go of your wrist, gripping your shoulders and flipping you onto the bed, stomach down. He presses himself against you, leaning his body over top of yours, and you can feel his still wet half hard cock pressing against your ass. He slides a hand underneath your hips, immediately pushing two fingers onto your clit, but he leaves it still, not moving.

“Make yourself come,” he commands, leaning closer to your ear now, each word deliberate and succinct. . “Use me.”

You breathe in a little shakily, but find yourself turned on all over again at what he’s suggesting. You start to tentatively move your hips, grinding them down onto his hand. As soon as you start moving, his fingers slowly begin to make circles on your clit, prompting you to move faster. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you whimper, pushing your hips into his hand harder and harder, his fingers staying perfectly on your clit as he rubs it along with your movements You’re losing all sense of control now, your hips lifting off the bed and then back down, feeling like something other than you is guiding your motions now as you reach closer to your orgasm. 

Joel’s noises of approval at you pleasuring yourself bring you even closer to the edge, knowing he enjoys this as much as you do. He starts kissing along your back, keeping his body pressed close to yours, but allowing as much movement as you need to get off. The flutter of his lips on your skin sends you shuddering.

“Yeah, baby, come on,” he urges you, rubbing his finger more intensely now. You’re moving your hips quicker, trying to find the perfect angle, panting into the mattress now, desperately reaching for your orgasm. Joel senses you’re close, feeling your dripping cunt all over his hand, and he surprises you by quickly sliding his hand down and in one fluid motion pushing two fingers inside of you, barely letting up on the motion on your clit as he does it. You cry out into the bed, trying not to make too much noise as Joel pumps his fingers in and out of you. 

“Need your sweet little pussy comin’ all over this hand, c’mon.” His voice is low, and he lightly bites the skin on your back as he stays pressed against you. You’re shaking all over as your hips grind down into his fingers and your core suddenly explodes, the orgasm wracking your body. You moan loudly, pressing your face down as you bite onto the sheets, trying to stifle your noise with something.

Joel doesn’t let up, letting you ride out your climax hard onto his hand, your slickness coating his fingers as he goes as deep as he can throughout it. Your shuddering finally slows, and you try to catch your breath, practically collapsing onto his hand. 

“Very good girl,” he coos, planting another kiss on your back. You lift your hips just enough for him to pull his hand out before you let them fall back down, your muscles threatening to give out on you. Joel lays down next to you on his back and turns his head over to you, gently smoothing your hair off of your face and you see the corners of his lips turn up slightly. 

“I’m glad you showed up,” you say breathlessly, smiling wide. 

Joel chuckles. “Oh, me too, sweetheart.”

You two lay silently for a few moments, before you turn onto your side and look at him with anticipation, nervous about what you want to ask him. “Is it weird to say that I like… how you act during… all this stuff?” You peer over at him and bite your lip, thankful that the darkness is likely hiding how red your cheeks are turning.

“How do you mean?” Joel scrunches his brow. 

“Just… all the stuff you say to me. It really turns me on.”

Joel lets out another little laugh. “Oh yeah? You like the things I call you?”

You nod, maybe a little too excitedly, catching yourself and releasing a shy laugh. “Yeah, I do.”

“Like… bein’ my good girl? My sweet girl?”

You squirm a little just hearing the words come out of his mouth, and it doesn’t escape Joel’s notices as he lifts his brows a bit at you. “Mhm, and… when you’re more vulgar too,” you say, barely loud enough for him to hear. You cover your face in embarrassment, you don’t know why this is too much to say to a man who’s dick you just had in your mouth, but it is. It’s like there’s different personalities involved when you two are intimate, or something.

“S’okay darlin’, don’t be so embarrassed. It’s all normal,” he assures you, leaning over to kiss your forehead. 

“I know, I guess I just never had anyone say most of this stuff before, it’s really… fucking hot.”

Joel laughs heartily now, and you follow suit. “It is!” you call out, giggling. 

“I believe ya,” Joel says between chuckles. “I’m glad you like it, baby.” He ponders for a moment before adding with another laugh, “It’s hot for me too, I guess.”

“So you like saying that stuff to me, too?” You perk up a little, excited to hear his answer and get any type of validation from him on his feelings for you.

“Of course,” he says, touching your cheek. “Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t. Gets me off just thinkin’ about callin’ you those things.”

You look at him slightly surprised, but smiling nonetheless. “Really?” you ask, still having a hard time accepting that Joel could be equally as attracted to you as you are to him. 

“You know I think you’re the sexiest little thing, don’t you, baby? I could get turned on just by the idea of you,” he confesses, and you find your body instinctively moving closer to him before you even realize it. 

“I guess I just assumed… you liked me, but maybe not… I don’t know, as much as I was interested in you.”

“I’ve been thinkin’ about you non-stop since I saw you for the first time, wantin’ to say all that stuff to you, if that helps.”

“I can’t believe that sometimes, that you noticed me like that.” You bite your lip nervously as you realize more and more of your feelings are getting out in the open tonight. 

“And why’s that?” Joel asks, genuine curiosity in his expression. 

“I mean look at you…” You gesture to all of him, and he chuckles a little.  “And with my age, I didn’t know you’d see me like that. I just felt like I couldn’t compare with women your age, or something.” Ugh, you hated how you sounded saying all of this out loud. 

“Darlin’, if I’m honest, right now you’re the only one I see myself wantin’ to fuck. Can’t get you off my mind,” he replies, and it’s so honest that you can’t help the look of surprise in your face. It quickly changes into a small, shy, smile though and you glance over at him.

“I like to hear you say that,” you say sweetly, practically melting as you catch his brown eyes with yours. “I can’t get you off my mind, either.”

“Well it’s settled, let’s stay on each other's minds, then,” Joel says, reaching over to wrap his arm around you. You turn onto your side and settle your body into his, nestling into the warmth and the smell of him and sex on the both of you. 

“It’s settled,” you echo back, and you can feel the smile in Joel’s body as he squeezes you tighter. “Will you stay for a bit?” you ask tentatively, worried that between last night and this, he’s going to think you’re being too clingy for whatever this arrangement is that you’ve just agreed on. 

“Sure, baby,” he says softly, and the two of you adjust yourselves to lay on the pillows up against the headboard.

“Have you ever seen this show?” you ask him, the TV now in both of your sights across from the end of the bed.

“Can’t say I’m one for these reality shows…” Joel says, peering at the screen skeptically as you unmute it.

“I’m telling you, it’s some of the funniest shit you could ever watch. One night here and I’ll have you hooked, I swear.”

Joel scoffs lightheartedly and laughs, denying what you’ve said, but he settles into the bed, continuing to hold you in his arms while you lay your head on his chest. You two watch in silence for a while until Joel interrupts. 

“Now wait… why’s she so upset?” he asks, and the real concern in his voice makes you want to burst out laughing. 

“Okay, so this girl Becca, she’s obsessed with that guy, Paul, but Paul chose Carrie for his big date he gets to have. But get this - Carrie and Becca are best friends in this house they all share so it’s just so awkward and freaking dramatic for no good reason,” you explain, your words coming out rapidfire before you can even doubt if Joel cares to hear all of this.

“Jesus christ,” Joel murmurs quietly, taking in your speed rundown of the drama. You immediately laugh at how ridiculous you’d just sounded, but you peer up and Joel’s eyes are still glued to the TV, intently watching as the show flashes between the date and Becca crying to the other girls about Paul. Once the episode ends, Joel doesn’t stop the next one from starting to play, and you have to bite back the shit eating grin you want to wear on your face so badly. Instead, you turn your head from his chest to look at his face again. 

“Told you,” you say simply, raising your eyebrows. 

“Oh, shut it,” Joel chuckles, shoving you gently. He glances down at you with a soft smile and then kisses the top of your head, his eyes flicking back to the drama unfolding on the TV. 

You can’t help but think that you could easily stay in this moment, just like this, forever. 

[bloodiedrogue]

ME AND THE DEVIL

(PREV CHAPTER)

SUMMARY: After arriving at the safehouse, Avis quickly finds herself face-to-face with an old friend.

PAIRING: Loki Laufeyson & Original Female Character

WORD COUNT: 3,866

WARNINGS: Canon typical violence, slight torture.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm not gonna lie I just busted this chapter out in a few hours and I'm actually pretty stoked on it so let me know what you think? Maybe? I don't know :') also special shout out to @use-your-telescope for help revising the offer letter. Thanks again!!

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST

-

Knock. Pause. Knock, knock —click. 

The door to the safe house creaks open, screaming to life as it moves through the air to reveal a dimly lit room. In it, there’s a small kitchenette in the far left corner with fairly decent-looking appliances. A fridge, a stove, a sink that isn’t covered in blood. In comparison to some of the other places Avis has stayed in, it looks like a domestic haven, with its full table dining set and plush couch. It makes her sigh with contentment as she steps further in, examining the stove with greater detail, noticing it’s gas rather than electric. 

Just like home.

“Took you long enough, Ghosty.” 

Immediately, her eyes dart to the right and narrow, focusing on the voice that breaks through the darkness. Somehow it sounds familiar —deep and scratchy and overly sarcastic in a way that both makes her blood boil and her heart melt. A voice she hasn’t heard in ages.

“Lane?”

“In the flesh.” 

Out of habit, she reaches for her gun, placing a heavy hand on the grip, watching as Isaac Lane steps out to greet her. Across his face, he’s got a big shit-eating grin. The kind he used to give her whenever she’d lose one of their never-ending arguments. That one where the edges of his lips are turned to the sky, revealing that one crooked canine on the left side, causing Avis to let out a nervous breath, realizing that it’s him. And that he’s here, standing in front of her, holding his hands out into the open air to signal he’s unarmed. 

“Miss me?”

With his hands still raised, he takes another step closer, making her twitch. “Course not.”

“Bit rude to admit, but I’ll take it considering the obvious.”

“The obvious?”

“You’re reaching for your gun, are you not?”

Suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed, Avis releases the weapon but keeps her hand behind her. “Sorry if seeing you here doesn’t make me feel very fucking safe.”

“I didn’t realize my presence would make you so uncomfortable.”

There’s a hint of… something in his words. Smugness? Flirtation? Either way, instead of condoning it Avis instantly shuts it down with an eye-roll as she brushes past him and sets her things on the kitchen table. “Why are you here, anyway? What happened to Mags?”

“Mags?”

“My contact.” Angrily, she speaks through her teeth, a wave of stress rushing through as she tries to imagine the events that led to Lane’s appearance. Did Mags reach out to them or was it the other way around? And if it was, is she safe? Dead? Merely incarcerated? 

Avis isn’t sure. All she knows is that something wrong had happened, otherwise, Mags (the handler she’d been working with over the last three months) would’ve been here instead, sitting at the table with her usual cup of coffee and folder filled with information on her next target.

“Oh, uh, right, she’s gone.” 

“Gone? What do you mean?”

Shrugging his shoulders, Lane strolls towards Avis’s stuff, moving his hands to examine their exteriors before unzipping the largest duffle. Inside, all of Abner’s body sits, carefully tied in black plastic bags for safekeeping. “I assume this is—“

Before Lane can even finish his sentence Avis has her gun to his head. Angrily, it’s pressed against his temple, the cold steel of the barrel contrasting the sudden heat of his face as his eyes turn to face her. 

“Still quick on the draw, I see,” he laughs.

“What do you want, Isaac?”

Quietly, he clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes. “Oh, first name basis, am I in trouble?”

“You will be if you don’t fucking tell me what’s going on.”

She wants to shoot him right then and there —pull the trigger so she can move on with her plan but knowing Lane it won’t be that easy. He’s always been a bit of a snake. Doing whatever it takes to survive. On more than one occasion he’d thrown her under the bus for simple things like incomplete field reports or disorganized meeting notes —the usual office stuff. It was annoying, sure, but considering what she knew he was capable of she merely took the brunt of it with open arms, well aware that in the long run, it was easier. Safer. 

“I’ll tell you when you drop the gun.”

“And I’ll drop the gun when you go over there.” Motioning to the other side of the room with her free hand, Lane merely nods in response, raising his hands ever so slowly. After, he pushes the chair out from underneath him and stands, taking his time as he wanders over to her desired spot on the couch. 

“Okay, are we good now or do you want me to take off my clothes to show I’m not armed?”

“Good to know you’re still a disgusting pervert.” 

“Only for you, my dear.” 

Ignoring the wink Lane gives her as he speaks, Avis drops her gun onto the table, leaving it near and loaded as she sits in his previous spot. “You really are shameless, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean?” 

She has to force herself not to roll her eyes at his nonchalance. “Nothing, just… tell me what’s going on. Please.” 

She doesn’t mean to sound so desperate, yet it just sort of comes out, falling from her lips like water from a broken dam. It’s inevitable. The sudden misery that takes over when she hears him laugh in response.

“I’m here to offer you a deal.” 

“With who?”

“SHIELD, obviously,” he snaps.

Jokingly, she raises her hands in defence. “Sorry, just figured given your lack of moral compass that you might’ve switched things up since we last spoke.”

“Fair enough,” he admits. “But no, I’m still under Fury, as will you be, eventually.” 

Avis can’t help but scoff at his confidence. “I highly doubt you have anything worthy to offer me.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Would I?”

He nods, then moves his hand towards the other end of the couch, producing a file folder from a bag she hadn’t noticed before. “All the details of the deal are here.” Carefully, he then stands and takes a few steps towards her before tossing it onto the table and retreating back. “To sum things up though, SHIELD’s essentially offering you your job back.”

“My job?” Avis almost laughs at the idea as she opens the folder.

“Yes. With conditions.”

-

Dear Avis Finch, 

We are pleased to offer you employment as Test Agent at Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division (S.H.I.E.L.D.). We trust that your skills will be a valuable asset to our company. 

This is a full-time, exempt position with an annual gross salary of $90,000, paid in bi-weekly instalments. In addition, this position is eligible for the following benefits, in accordance with company policy:

14 days of annual paid time off

10 days of sick leave

Medical and dental insurance

401k/retirement plan

Performance Bonus of up to 10% of your annual gross salary 

On-site childcare 

On-site housing

24/7 security protection

To accept this offer, please sign and date this letter as indicated below and return to Isaac Lane by December 12, 2016. Your first day of employment will be effective immediately.

We look forward to welcoming you to our team.

Sincerely,

S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters

-

Avis stares at the paper for what feels like hours, reading and rereading every detail until her vision is blurry and her mind is full of thoughts that don’t make sense. “Obviously the salary could be a bit higher,” she eventually hears Lane say, his usual dry sense of humour breaking through the silence, causing her to look up and narrow her eyes, wondering how this could’ve happened. How SHIELD, of all companies, would decide to take her back? 

“Is this a fucking joke?” 

Lane, ever the charmer, snorts and shakes his head. “Surprisingly no. I mean, considering the circumstances I figured Fury had lost has mind but I guess, like always SHIELD has room for more traitors.” 

As much as she wants to deny such a statement she knows doing so is useless. In Lane’s eyes, she’s nothing but a traitor. Just another run-of-the-mill rogue agent hell-bent on defying the law of a master no one truly trusts. 

A part of her wonders if he acts like this out of jealousy. Perhaps he too once wished to do what she had done and as a result, lashes out. Psychologically, it’d make a ton of sense. Lane, regardless of her work, had always had this hatred for her. The kind you’d only notice if you could peek behind closed doors. In crowded rooms, he’d make it seem like they were the best of friends, laughing and joking —always making her feel like she was the most important person in the room. 

Professionally though, he’d do whatever it takes to undermine her. This included betraying a cause they agreed needed support. 

“You and I both know the only reason I’m in this position is because of you.”

  As soon as she says this it’s as if Lane’s whole persona changes. Once calm and well-equipped to handle anything thrown his way, the man in front of her is now boiling. A newfound pressure suddenly found behind the pupils of his eyes, threatening her very existence. “I’d take the deal if I were you,” he says then, quiet and stern, the muscles in his neck twitching beneath tan skin that she knows wants to make contact more than anything in this world. 

She darts a hand to her gun without hesitation, directing it towards the centre of his throat as he stands. “Wasn’t very smart of you to come unarmed.”

His eyes narrow to a point, the obvious anger in his features amplifying the coldness of his pale irises. “Says you. All you got is a gun and a body bag.” 

“It’s more than you have.”

“Is it?” 

Fuck.

She has to force herself not to falter once she realizes the truth. Which is that, instead of coming as a potential and (very unlikely) ally, Lane was merely a pawn. An easy distraction in a plan much bigger than either of them.

Immediately, Avis knows this because instead of running for the hills as she should’ve, she let her ego get the better of her, leaving her in a very precarious position.

“How many?”

Lane shrugs, his old, casual toxicity bubbling back to the surface. “I’d tell you but that’d ruin the fun, wouldn’t it?” he says, taking a few steps forward, ignoring the gun still locked onto his esophagus. 

“I mean, I don’t think so, personally.” With a smile, Avis, tightens her fingers around the weapon, teasing the trigger further and further until he’s standing in front of her and she’s taking the shot, missing by a mile thanks to Lane’s quick movements. 

“You’re rusty,” he grunts then, one hand now located on the barrel of the gun, pushing it towards the wall behind him with a grin so wide she can practically see her reflection off his crooked teeth.

“And you’re still so fucking annoying.” Shoving the gun, and ultimately him, backward she focuses on the loosening of her joints, feeling them melt away as she sinks into the floor, becoming nothing but a darkened shadow as she rushes around Lane’s legs. 

Now above her, he attempts to step on her newly developed form, cursing under his breath as he misses once, then twice, before ultimately giving up and letting her slip through the doorway. 

Once outside, Avis continues moving, listening to the sound of Lane yelling before half a dozen agents come barreling out from around the property, causing her to push herself faster across the paved driveway before moving across the street and into the tree line. Out of necessity, she makes sure to choose the most crowded path available before regaining human form and continuing on foot, panting at the overexertion that comes with using her powers. 

Inside her chest she can feel her heart aching from the movement, threatening to stop entirely from exhaustion. Her limbs, similarly, crack with the pain of their previous disintegration, signalling her need to rest. To find a safe place to recuperate because Avis knows she can’t keep going. Not like this. 

So, instead of continuing she merely stops and leans against a nearby tree, looking behind her to reassess. 

Already she can hear their footsteps —the breaking of branches and the shuffle of bushes as the agents sent to take her in find their way closer. 

Swearing under her breath, she pushes off the tree and once again dissolves into the ground, ignoring the way her body screams for surrender as she shoots through the dirt, continuing until she finds a nearby road. Once there, she turns to follow it, rushing through the centre line in search of a vehicle she can perhaps commandeer, praying to whatever god there is that they’ll grant her this one fucking, stupid grace.

It takes about a minute of moving. A minute of pure, agonizing pain, until she sees the lights of a silver sedan, enter her view, filling her with both relief and fear as she slithers up out of the pavement with her arms out at her sides, once again gambling with a fate she doesn’t actually believe in. 

“Please, please, please…” she mutters under her breath, closing her eyes as she braces for possible impact. 

Thankfully though, it doesn’t come. No, instead the only thing that hits is the sound of screeching tires and angry yells, both of which she ignores once she gets her bearings back and forces her way into the passenger side of the vehicle. 

“Drive.” 

Without hesitation she pulls a knife out of a holster beneath her shirt, pointing it towards the driver’s throat.

“Wait —what?” 

The man, pale and stricken with fear, follows orders regardless of the confusion, stepping so hard on the gas that, as they lurch forward, Avis nearly fumbles with the knife in her burning hand. 

“Follow this road until you hit Arviat, then drop me off at Tangmaarvik.” 

“Wh—where?” Trying to pull himself further away from the knife, Avis notices the man’s grip on the steering wheel begins to tighten, his posture so tightly wound it’s as if he’s about to burst. 

It makes her sympathize but only for a moment, knowing the anxiety he feels dealing with an unprepared threat. How his breath quickens and the beads of sweat across his forehead collect over time. 

Like her he’s probably got a life outside of this occurrence —maybe a wife and kids; most likely a job and house. He’s got goals and hobbies and preferences —and like her, he’s got plans that don’t involve dying tonight. 

“Relax, I’m not going to kill you.”

She knows admitting such a thing is a bit odd, not to mention stupid. Considering the whole point of taking a hostage is to first and foremost portray yourself as an immediate threat. Admitting the opposite kind of diminishes the whole deal. 

Yet, the man before her still panics. Despite the admittance of safety, he still trembles when she moves her hand away from his throat, bumbling over words of desperation, begging her not to kill him. 

“Did you not just hear me?” she snaps, her voice loud in the confines they both find themselves sharing. “I’m not gonna hurt you. Not if you listen.”

“I’ll listen,” he stutters. “Please, just… just don’t kill me.”

Instead of responding, Avis rolls her eyes, annoyed, trying her best not to let her lack of patience get the better of her as they continue down the road, driving at such speeds that, if a cop were to appear, they’d surely get pulled over. 

Because of this, she quickly tells the man to slow down. “Follow the speed limit. Don’t draw any attention to yourself,” she tells him, watching the way he slowly but surely follows suit, his body loosening on the grip it once had as they continue east. 

-

By the third hour, Avis is certain Lane has lost her, prompting a sigh of relief to rise through her aching bones as she settles further into the chair. Next to her, the driver shoots her a glance once he sees this —the way she softens into the plush of the cushion, her body limp with fatigue. 

“Can, uh, I ask you a question?” he asks, hesitant but no longer stuttering. 

Avis nods, too tired to deny the man. 

“How did you appear in the road so suddenly? It was like, you were there and then you weren’t.”

“Well, obviously you’re seeing things because I was always there,” she says, trying her best to hide the smirk that threatens to peek out from the edge of her lips. “I ran out of the forest.”

The man scrunches his face in confusion. “No you didn’t.”

“Uh, yeah, I did.” 

“No yo—“

“Are you seriously gonna argue with the bitch with the knife?”

Immediately he presses his lips together and shakes his head, once again focusing on the road. “Yup, fair enough, my bad.” 

Guiltily, Avis finds his reaction sort of humorous but instead of laughing she merely just bites her lip, following his gaze. “Why were you out driving so late anyway?” 

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” 

He shrugs his shoulders. “Couldn’t sleep, I guess.”

She wants to pry further. Out of a mix of curiosity and boredom, she wants to learn about this man’s life. Why, like her, he was out and about in the early hours of the morning, wandering.

“Any particular reason?”

He opens his mouth —closes it and then opens it once more before he catches her glance. After that his eyes narrow, more confusion taking over his face once he realizes that she’s genuinely asking. That, despite scaring the absolute shit out of him with a knife just hours ago, Avis actually cares about what he has to say. 

It’s unexpected, to say the least, but not entirely unwelcome as he ponders the question, sitting with it for a good few minutes before letting loose the thoughts within his mind.

“I guess I just feel a bit lost? I don’t know. I thought I was doing well for myself. Doing what I was told, when I was told to,” he says. “Recently, I got this really good job. One that’s hard to come by but it pays well. At first I hated it, tried to quit but, just couldn’t because for so long before that I had nothing. No prospects or purpose. It was like I was just this shell, coasting along from one bad situation to another.” He pauses —shrugs his shoulders and then looks towards the passenger seat, watching Avis listen to the sound of his voice with actual interest. 

Her body language is more open than before. Awkwardly, rather than leaning against the window, she’s now angled towards the centre console, her elbow perched upon it so that rests her head against her palm. Her expression, a mixture of focus and sleep makes him question whether or not he should continue. Whether he should reveal his cards to this dangerous woman he just met.

“Anyway, I think this job’s making me restless again. At first it was something new —something exciting to look forward to but now that I’ve been doing it for so long it’s like I’ve stagnated.” 

“So quit?”

At first, her bluntness catches him off guard, then it occurs to him that she doesn’t quite understand. “I can’t just quit.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s my job?”

“Get a new one?”

“I can’t?”

She raises her brow. “Can’t you?”

“Not really.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“Because w—“

  Before she can continue, she notices a city sign out of the corner of her eye. Its reflective, green backdrop pulls her out of the nonsense she’s managed to find herself in. Out of this slivering moment of normalcy, she’s longed for ever since she left SHIELD to complete this mission on her. 

For a moment, it makes her sad, realizing that this isn’t her life anymore. That no longer does she have the privilege of having casual conversations with people in cars because she has other things to worry about. Things like killing and living and completing what she started.

Returning to her previous persona, Avis motions her knife back toward the driver. “It’s just up ahead. Two blocks on the left,” she tells him, but this time instead of panicking he just nods. 

Simple and curt, he twitches as he follows directions and wordlessly pulls into the small lot. Once there, he raises his hands in the air and motions to the ignition, asking if he needs to turn it off.

In response, Avis shakes her head and goes to open the door, finding herself filled with something foreign once she realizes it’s locked.

“Hey can y—“

A sharp object finds its way into her shoulder before she can properly react, causing her mouth to open and a gasp to fall out as she reaches to grab it. Before she can though, a hand takes hold of her wrist to turn her around, prompting her chest and head to simultaneously slam against the glass with a thud. 

Under her breath, she cries out profanities. A series of expletives bounce off the window, falling onto deaf ears that are overshadowed by an awful laugh. “God, you really are exactly how they said you’d be,” a new voice says. Its tone harsher and more condescending, making Avis clench her teeth with rage as she struggles under his grasp, too worn out to properly fight. 

“Mm, a bit more of a fighter, I’d say though. Bit shit with a knife but definitely not as weak as they say. You got potential.”

“Potential?” Somehow through the confusion and the blood loss she manages to turn to look at her captor, realizing who it is. 

Instantly, her mind races at his image. He’s taller than he thought he’d be, bulkier in a way that still manages to appear slim. His features, even in the dimness of the car light jump out like an unforgotten memory, taunting her with wicked teeth and dagger-like eyes. 

Like her, he’s got thick, dark hair and creasing lines of age that make it look like they're almost similar in age, making her wonder if that’s truly where the similarities lie. Sure, he’s a God. An alien not of this world who once sought to destroy this one, but perhaps there’s something else to him. Something expendable. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Tightening his grip on her arm, he twists it up and behind her back, making the pain in her shoulder further erupt. 

Once again she cries out, holding back tears as she turns her face back to the window, trying to gain some relief as she presses her forehead to cool glass.

“I’m merely here doing your boss a favour,” he says, applying more and more pressure until Avis is screaming through bitten lips beneath his grasp, begging him to stop until he mutters something she doesn’t quite catch and rips the blade right out of her back again.

-

TAGGING: @lovelysizzlingbluebird, @just-someone11 , @linaax, @eleniblue, @infinitystoner, @ozymdias, @use-your-telescope, @liminalpebble, @freegardenbanananeck, @lokixryss, @violethaze, @simplyholl, @coldnique, @mischief2sarawr, @jasperthechaosgremlin (if you’d like to be added fill out this form)

[venomous-system]

HERE COMES THE WEIRDEST INTRO POST YET

Alright. I sort of have a source and sort of don’t. If anyone knows a term that covers what I’m about to say, please let me know. I keep bouncing between Introject and Entomate.

My name is Anthon (he/him), and I am Jax’s brother.

Jax posts a lot. He’s a Genshin fictive and his source is Tartaglia. Anyone up to date on Genshin lore can probably figure out where this is going.

I have no idea what to even refer to my alter origin as, let alone whether I can be “sourced” or not… I showed up from his feelings of loneliness and missing his family, and everything about my age, appearance, and personality formed in accordance to his exomemories. My “source,” the canon Anthon in the game, is only ever mentioned and never shown or really talked about in detail. Can I actually consider him a source if the only thing I got from him is my name?

I can’t fully act like an Entomate, since I remember Teyvat, Snezhnaya, Teucer, and the rest of my family very vividly… it’s such a strange grey area to exist in, which is why I don’t normally talk to people or expose my existence in any sort of detail, despite being a cohost and one of the most active in the system.

Here’s a list of things that are not and likely will never be canon but describe me anyway:

Cryo Vision

Around 3.5 years younger than Jax/Tartaglia (Jax ageslides though, which is how I’m currently 18 while he’s 19)

Brown hair - only sibling who didn’t inherit the ginger

Grey-blue eyes

Shortest sibling

Born during winter

Most (visibly) emo sibling

Can sorta cook? Last time I tried I set a paper plate on a hot stove and nearly started a fire, but the food turned out good

Aroace

Not physically adept. At all. I can’t fight. I absolutely suck at hand-to-hand combat and never learned to use any weapons. If I have a bow, I can aim well, but it takes way too long to set up my shots, so I’m just a sniper with no talent for speed shooting. If I need to fight, I can probably use a catalyst? But I’m really just a healer

Mom friend but stupid

I hated the Fatui for keeping my brother busy with work all the time and I would prank/harass them a lot whenever I saw the grunts just wandering around town. I was arrested once for kicking one of them in the balls, but I wasn’t held long since I was just a kid at the time

I’m mildly afraid of wolves but have befriended a brown bear after it tried to adopt my younger brother (long story)

I love Dungeons and Dragons. Best thing I’ve found since being in the system. I want to learn to be a DM

I can grow crops and build traps

Rural Snezhnayans are like the hillbillies of Teyvat, so I used to do gay stuff in public just to piss people off

Despite being Aroace, I really like the song Dirty Thoughts by Chloe Adams

I hate rain. So much. It’s like the gods are pissing on you

I am 14 months younger than Tonia and 4 years older than Teucer

Tonia is actually the scariest sibling. I once saw her break every finger on a guy’s hand because he touched her waist without consent. He deserved it, but it was pretty frightening to witness

I’m the clumsiest and I get hurt pretty often because of it. I fronted at a trampoline park once and I fell down more often than I landed on my feet. Teucer is clumsy too, but it’s because he’s so energetic and he almost never gets hurt. He just jumps back up and keeps going. I, on the other hand, am incredibly uncoordinated and bruise easily

I can’t think of anything else. That’s my intro! If anyone knows the word for an introject who formed based off exomemories with almost nothing confirmed about their source, let me know. I’d appreciate it

Bye

- Anthon 🎲

Edit: NC Fictive

[wordsofelie]

Chapter 7

🌅Don’t you dare runaway (A Phoenix and Ashes Sequel)

Miya Osamu x f!reader

Summary: Miya Osamu thinks some things will never change— Atsumu will always be annoying; his Ma’s food will always be the best and you will always be his favourite sunrise.

Content Warnings: Timeskip Setting, Manga Spoilers, ex!Suna, Swearing, Alcohol Consumption, Mention of Sex Scenes (No Description)

Words count: 5.4k

chapter 1 - chapter 2 - chapter 3 - chapter 4 - chapter 5 - chapter 6 - chapter 8

“How’s Tokyo?”

It’s only a few words, barely a full sentence. However, it took Osamu a whole fifteen minutes to write and almost a face-first collision with the glass door of Tokozu, his favourite kitchen knife store in Osaka. The man found the exercise harder than any literature essay he ever had to do in high school (and Osamu, despite being named after a famous novelist, was never fond of literature). But now, the message is sent and there’s no going back.

His meditation instructor as well as one red-haired hitter, told him he should stop overthinking, and for the last month, Osamu thinks he did a good job at calming his stormy mind. But it’s different now, you’ve been in Tokyo for three days (or what feels like six months, at least to him), and apart from the message to ask you if you arrived safely (which you did), Osamu hasn’t contacted you in 72h. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, but he just needs to give space. He told you how he feels, exposed his fragile heart to you, and now what you do with it is your decision and yours only.

Still, Osamu wants to act casual like before (and also shows that he cares), something he hasn’t been good at for the past months. You miss the old Osamu, the friend you could always rely on, the one who wouldn’t mind letting food burn on the stove if you needed him. Maybe it’s time for that man to come back.

Thus, this morning, as he strolls through the streets of Osaka, heading to the store, he sends you those few words.

“Good morning, Sir,” a forty-year-old something greets him when he enters. “May I help you with something?”

Osamu’s eyes wander all around the shelves before describing what he is looking for.

“There’s a couple of knives that could meet your requirements.” The man starts showing him various options when Osamu’s phone buzzes in his pocket.

It’s you.

The younger man excuses himself and runs towards the exit. He waits two or three rings before answering.

“Hey,” he says, clearing his throat.

“Osamu,” you tell his name, his heart skips a beat (or a thousand). “How are you? Is this a good time to call?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I was just in town to buy a new knife for the fish.”

“Oh, maybe I should call later then-”

“No!” He cuts you off, someone passing by is startled by his sudden outburst. He avoids their gaze, “It’s fine now. So… how have ya been?”

“I’m great,” you reply, and he can hear the excitement in your voice, “I love it here. The JVA offices are in that huge building in Omiya, and everyone is wearing suits and there’s even a bakery on the ground floor, so I usually take something there and go to the park. I can’t wait for the cherry blossoms to bloom, it’s gonna be beautiful. And I need to take you to the bakery, you’d love the cannelés.”

Osamu holds back his laughter at your French accent, cute, he thinks.

“There’s already a communication team,” you continue, “everyone is so kind and to be able to discuss my ideas with everyone is such a cool thing. Don’t get me wrong, I love working with the Jackals but…well, the guys aren’t the best at giving advice when it comes to their social media. Except for your brother, actually.”

“I’m glad,” Osamu says with a soft voice.

“And Kuroo is amazing to work with and he’s actually kinda funny sometimes, but he has that weird laugh-anyway, I think he likes my work… But that doesn’t mean he's going to keep me on after my trial period.”

Osamu is relieved, happy even, that you’re enjoying your life there, but when he is about to express it, the words get stuck in his throat and no sound leaves his lips.

There’s a silence following your story, and you’re the one who breaks it. “I’m coming back in two days.”

“And I’ll be there.”

“Also… in three weeks or something, the National Team is having their last public practice match before the Olympics and it’s in Osaka, are you going to install a stall at the gym?”

“Yeah, I will. Ya know how the guys will react if I don’t.”

You chuckle, probably picturing some very disappointed—and hungry— Atsumu, Bokuto and Hinata (and Meian, though he’d tried to keep a straight face since he has the role of captain to uphold). “Cool, then, I’ll be there.”

“That’s my line.”

You offer him a genuine laugh and a warm feeling spreads through his stomach, which stays even after the call ends.

Two more days. Osamu counts in his head.

He takes a deep breath and enters the shop for the second time, this time being careful with not banging his face into the glass door.

“Can’t ya just stop movin’, please?” Atsumu begs and a sound comes out of his throat, something between a sigh and a groan. 

But his demand doesn’t seem to reach his brother’s ears—even though he said “please”, ‘Samu, ya spoiled brat—as said brother continues to pace like a caged animal in their cramped living room.

“I’m goin’ now.” Osamu finally announces.

“Gosh,” The setter rolls his eyes, “her train arrives in two hours.”

“What if there’s traffic on the way?”

“Ya know what? Just leave, yer so damn annoyin’ right now.”

“Moron,” Osamu exclaims, slamming the door on its way out.

It’s too late for Atsumu to say more than just an offended, “Oi!” since his twin already left the apartment.

There’s no traffic on the way and Osamu is forced to wait for you—though it doesn’t matter how long he must wait; if he had to endure a lifetime of longing just to see you again, he would agree in a blink of an eye.

The only bad thing is that time passes very slowly, and it makes him think over and over again about what might happen.

And the conclusion he comes up with is that two paths are unfolding before him: whether the kiss you shared on the doorframe of your apartment is the last remnant of what could have been, or perhaps the first tender step toward something beautiful. Maybe in a few minutes, he’ll have to pretend nothing happened and go back to being friends or stop hiding his feelings and share them with the world.

When you emerge from the station, your blue scarf sticking out of your bag since the weather has warmed up delicately in the last five days, Osamu feels the rhythm of his heart quickening.

You greet each other, get back in the car, and he starts driving.

One second after the other, even though you’re there now, he keeps waiting.

The silence is heavy but somehow it doesn’t cloud his thoughts. Osamu could be analysing each single one of your moves (you scratch your nails, you keep looking at your phone even if you don’t receive any notification), your expressions (you didn’t meet his eyes when you arrived, your smile is tense), but he doesn’t because he has learned better than to attempt to assume how you feel; it only leads to chaos. The man has no control over this situation and whatever happens, he’ll accept it. Nothing matters more than yielding to your choices. Break his heart, move to Tokyo, sever ties forever (please don’t)—he’ll endure it all if it means your happiness.

“Thank you for coming.” You finally say gently.  

 “Sure.” He waits and after a moment of hesitation, adds, “Ya know… I’ve been waitin’ to see ya.”

There’s a pause, the kind that stretches just long enough to create a knot in his chest.

“You have?” You ask, your voice quiet, unsure.

“Yeah,” he admits, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. If you’re about to turn him down, at least, he needs to be honest one more time. “Been thinkin' about ya all day. All week, actually.”

He laughs, a bit too awkwardly, trying to play it off. “Can I say that? Don’t wanna make ya uncomfortable but I guess I’m just really bad at actin' casual, huh?”

Your soft chuckle makes his heart race all over again. “Not as bad as you think, Osamu. I’m happy if we can talk openly to each other without being afraid of what the other thinks. That’s what we used to do.” You clear your throat, “And actually, there’s something I need to tell you.”

There it is, he thinks, the opening he’s been waiting for. He decides to pull over to the side of the road since you almost made it to your place. He licks his lips nervously before turning to you, your eyes don’t meet his when you speak again.

“So… I’ve been thinking. I wanted to have that conversation with you later, not in the car like that, but like you said, it’s hard to act casual…Listen, Osamu.” You finally turn to your right, to him.

Osamu thought he could know how you’re feeling just by seeing the look on your face but right now he is unsure. It’s exciting to know there’s still so much to learn about you, but also threatening because he can’t anticipate your next words and it’s suffocating.

“You’re the kindest person I know, you’re funny and you’re reliable and there’s no one in this entire world, and please don’t tell Umi, with whom I feel so at ease. I’ve never really been into stuff like soulmates you know, even with Rin, I believed he was the love of my life, and it turned out I was wrong. But with you it’s different, it’s like the universe has led me to you. That fact will never change, whatever we … become.” Your voice falters, “But… I made so many sacrifices for Rin, and I don’t regret them, they made me who I am now, but I promised myself I would never do such things again… Yet, I was in my hotel room in Tokyo, finally finding my dream job and loving the team, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About how I wanted to be with you in Osaka, how I wanted to kiss you again… I feel so weak Osamu ‘cause I love you too. I do want us to be together but not like that. I can’t miss this opportunity. If I stay in Osaka, I will resent myself for not choosing my dream and if I leave for Tokyo, I know I’ll regret not being with you… But I have to make a choice.”

“Can’t ya have both? Me and Tokyo?”

You sigh before looking down at your lap. Osamu thinks he saw your eyes getting wet, “I wish I could, but you know how I feel about distance relationships.”

Of course, he knows; he was there when you suffered through the distance that separated you from your first love years ago and how it led to a heartbreak.

“What if I come with y-”

“Don’t even think about it, Osamu. I am not following my dream for you to give up yours.” Your voice is firm, but there’s a hint of pain behind your words. “I swear I thought about all the options because I know you’re right for me… but there’s nothing we can do about it.”

Osamu was convinced there were only two paths, one where you love him, one where you don’t. But what if there is a third option? What if you love him but fear getting hurt?

It’s not that she doesn’t like you, she’s just afraid, Umi told him. He recalls precisely the moment your best friend pronounced those words to him.

There’s hope. Osamu has to hold on to it.  

“Give me one month.”

“Huh?” Your brow furrows in confusion.

“I’ll find a solution, I’ll make it work, I promise.”

“Osamu,” you sigh again, this time it sounds desperate, perhaps frustrated, “this is not some sort of romantic movie, this is real life.”

“I know that, and I’ll find a real solution.”

“What if you don’t find the solution after that month? I know how heartbreaks feel like Osamu, this is only going to hurt you and-”

“Nothing can hurt me more than runnin’ away when I could have tried making it work.”

There’s something in your eyes that shines behind your closed face and clenched jaw.

The atmosphere changes in the car, maybe because of the night falling, or maybe because of something else.

“When we were first years, we weren’t in the same class, but at the sports festival, we were put on the same team for the relay.” You start recalling, the sudden shift in topic catches him off guard, but he lets you continue anyway.

“Umi wasn’t in my team, and I was already not motivated to run the race, especially in front of everyone but it got worse when I was put before you. Can you imagine me, giving the stick to Miya Osamu? You were popular, girls loved you, boys admired you, and I was no one. Sure, I could run fast but I didn’t care about winning that damn event. I guess… the only things I cared about were having Rin looking at me and not tripping in front of your fangirls. But on the day of the festivals, do you remember what you told me?”

He shakes his head. You were always better at remembering stuff.

“You said ‘Trust me, just do your thing and I’ll make it work’. I trusted you; I did what I had to do, and we won.”

You cover your face with your hands abruptly and grumble, “Fuck, I really thought I made up my mind but…” Then, you take a long inspiration before looking at him again. Your eyes pierce his soul, find him where he is the most vulnerable, but also the most in love, “If I trust you one more time… Can you promise you’ll not let me down?”

“I’d do anything for ya to give me a chance.”

He says your name as he promises. There’s something obvious in your eyes when you look at each other, it’s not just hope that Osamu feels, it’s certain and deep. As if nothing could come between you.

You break the distance.

The kiss is softer than the last one. Osamu tries to take his time to appreciate the taste of your lips and the feeling your tongue leaves on his.

No need to rush, he knows it’s the first kiss of a long series (whether it lasts a month or a hundred years).

You pull back with a smile, “Oh, by the way, I have not forgotten that you owe me an explanation for all the times you ignore me. And you better hear what I have to say to you on that matter because you sure hurt me. It might take hours for me to tell you how bad you made me feel.”

“And I’d listen for hours.”

“You’re such a smooth talker.” You chuckle and open the passenger door, “Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow ‘Samu.”

“Huh?” He raises an eyebrow, “That’s what my brother calls me, can’t ya find something else like my lov-”

“Shut up you idiot, I’m not ready for that yet.”

“Whatever you want, I’ll submit.” He teases and his grin is both sincere and charming, it makes you lift your eyes in the air.

You laugh one more time before getting out, “sweet dreams.”

He bids you goodnight in return.

Things go well.

You try to see each other often. Now that Osamu has his Sundays free, he makes the most of them to take you on dates. In the evening, you cook dinner at home and in the morning, you stop by Onigiri Miya to get the bento he prepared for you. You always thank him with a kiss on the lips, a caress on the cheeks and sometimes the make out session gets a little bit out of hand. One day, despite your complaints about how you might get caught, Osamu doesn’t stop until Sato and Nagisa enter the shop (“Oops, didn’t mean to interrupt”, one of them say and Osamu tells you later how they kept on teasing him all day long. “It’s only yer fault though”, he exclaims, “yer too pretty.” And you push him on the chest, your cheeks turning red and your smile wide.)

You receive an email from Kuroo one Tuesday night, with a contract attached to it, waiting to be filled with your signature.

It’s hard to hide your smile, “I got the job.”

Osamu jumps from his chair to yours and kisses you, “I expected no less from my Champion.”

You open your mouth to say something and your boyfriend notices how your bite your lips. The long-distance relationship is starting now, that’s probably what you’re about to say, but Osamu doesn’t want to lose this moment thinking about what’s coming after, so he goes through your kitchen’s cupboards and gets a bottle of sake.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“We have somethin’ to celebrate, don’t we?” His boyish smile makes your heart melt, and you nod.

“Let’s go to Tokyo tomorrow to look for an apartment.” He proposes later.

Your brows knit together, “but your restaurant…”

“I can close it.”

Osamu looks at you with the determined eyes you thought he had lost. It’s confident and calm at the same time, it’s kind, and so particularly him. It’s the same look he had when you won the relay a decade ago, when he told you he got your back during your heartbreak, and when he swore he’d do anything to be with you.

This time, you're the one who kisses him, and you taste of sake. His hands find the skin of your lower back and the man wonders how he could have missed out on something so soft all these years. Maybe it’s the alcohol but his mind becomes intoxicated, still, it feels good, and the next second he lifts you to lead you to the bedroom.

The next morning, your head hurts—and so do your muscles—but Osamu makes sure to cover every inch of your body with kisses as an apology (to which you don’t complain).

Finding an apartment in Tokyo is a drag at first. Between the too high-priced single-rooms and the over-demanding landlords, your energy is drained at the end of the day.

“I’ll never be able to find something…” You whine.

“Hey,” Osamu flicks your forehead lightly, “don’t say that it’s only the first day. Let’s find an hotel for tonight and we'll continue tomorrow.”

“What about Onigiri Miya?”

“Sato and Nagisa can manage.”

“Thank you, Osamu, you’re the best. Oh, what’s Sato’s first name by the way?”

“I forgot,” Osamu gets up from the bench where you were both sat and starts walking. You don’t ask for more.

Eventually, Osamu gets back to Osaka the next day because “Osamu-san, we’re running out of spicy sauce, what’s the recipe again? I tried something but it tastes like-”, “Like shit.”, “Oi! Rin don’t say that.” And even though he loves helping you, he must admit he misses being in the kitchen.

Your apartment hunt ends up with a last-minute offer for a one-bedroom place near your office and with a view on the park.

“Yer kitchen is better than mine,” Osamu clicks his tongue.

“That gives you a good reason to come visit me.”

“I’m thinkin’ about more than just one reason to visit ya.”

“You pervert,” you tease, and he tries to defend himself, but it’s probably a lost cause, for deep down, Osamu knows you’re right.

So yes, three weeks pass, and things go pretty well between you two.

It's been a week since he last saw you, though you FaceTime every evening—both to tell him about your day and to show him the first pieces of decoration you've put up; a few flowerpots, two cups on the counter (one for him, one for you), and a framed picture of you and Umi.

And today is the National Team last public practice match, so it means Osamu gets to finally see you in person (yesss, he mumbles when rolls out of bed at dawn.)

The match starts at 1 p.m., the crowd is expected at noon, and Osamu spends the late morning setting up his onigiri stall in the gym’s hall. His hands move automatically as he arranges the ingredients and checks his prep. He tries to focus on his routine because his mind is far from calm.  Sure, he is happy to see you but he knows you’re also waiting for the “real solution” to overcome the distance. But Osamu hasn’t found it yet, not even when you packed your bags and moved in Tokyo officially.Time is running out.

Nagisa probably noticed the somehow stressed mood of his boss and finds himself even more careful than he usual is.

“Can I have one… Ginger chicken onigiri please?”

Nagisa greets you respectfully and Osamu immediately turns to where you stand with widen eyes as if he wasn’t expecting you.

“Hi,” you say.

“Hey.” He replies back and the man has to fight the stupid grin tugging at his lips. “Just give me a second.”

Osamu hands you your order, “Enjoy.”

“Those are new, huh?”

“Yeah, for the Spring Menu.” He explains, trying to keep his cool, but his smile sneaks through.

“I can’t wait to try then,” You smile back, your eyes meeting his. He could stand there all day, just soaking in this moment. But he’s working and you have a volleyball match to attend.

“Well, I’m gonna join Kita-san now. And also-” you glance behind you at the growing line. “Don’t wanna hold up the queue.”

Before he can even think of a reply, you wave and step away. He watches as you walk toward where Kita is waiting and both disappear in the stands. His heart warms at the sight.

The hours pass as the match begins, Osamu and Nagisa catch glimpses of the game through the screens scattered around the hall. Atsumu starts the first set, naturally, and Osamu can't help but grumble to himself when his brother is swapped out for Kageyama in the second. By the time his twin closes the final set with a signature service ace, Osamu rolls his eyes, already dreading the inevitable rambling about it later tonight.

“Atsumu-san is amazing,” Nagisa says and his eyes shine at the screen.

“Well, keep that for yerself please.” Osamu straightens up and starts packing up his stall.

The crowd begins to disperse, he can hear it from a distance. He’s just about ready to close up when a familiar face appears, slightly out of breath.

“Are you still open?” one Akaashi Keiji says with a sheepish smile.

Osamu simply remarks that he’s always open for his best client, and it makes Akaashi even more embarrassed. “That’s very considerate of you Miya-san. Sorry I didn’t come by earlier. I arrived late.”

“No problem,” Osamu replies, handing him his usual set of onigiri. “Yer favorite as always.”

Akaashi accepts the food, then hesitates before speaking. “There’s a new onigiri shop near my workplace, you know. I gave it a try, but... well, they don’t come close to yours.”

Osamu chuckles. “Well, thanks, I guess.”

“But don’t worry, Miya-san,” Akaashi continues, putting his glasses back on, “I’m not going to try to convince you to open a shop in Tokyo this time. I learned my lesson. Besides, you’re probably already too busy with your current restaurant.”

Osamu opens his mouth to speak but no sound comes out of it. Instead, his mind goes blank, and a cloud makes his brain unable to think. But not in an oppressive way, no, this time the cloud is light and pleasant.

Something seems to click inside him, as if a thought that has been buried suddenly rises to the surface. He’s always brushed off the idea of expanding, but now... maybe it’s time to stop putting things aside. His decision comes in a flash, and before he can second-guess it, he’s calling out to his part-time employee.

“Hey, Nagisa! Can ya finish up closin’ the stall? I gotta go.”

Without waiting for an answer, Osamu takes off, scanning the crowd for you. He spots you near the exit, chatting with a few familiar faces. His heart beats faster as he approaches.

He says your name, “Can we talk?”

You raise an eyebrow, but you nod, leading him to a quieter spot—the room where you used to work as the Jackals’ communication manager.

“So,” you begin, crossing your arms as you turn to face him. “What’s going on?”

Osamu takes a deep breath. “I’ve been thinkin’... ‘bout how I can make this work.”

“Make what work?”

“Us.” The word feels huge, but it’s the only thing that matters right now. “I’ve decided... I’m gonna open a shop in Tokyo.”

Your eyes widen, clearly taken aback. “Wait, what?”

“I’ll expand,” Osamu says, his voice is firm. “I’ll open a shop in Tokyo, so we don’t have to do this long-distance thing. I want to be with ya. There are a lot of things I need to think about like findin’ the right place and hirin’ new people, it might take a little bit of time but I have the cash, and I know it’s gonna be alright. Can ya trust me on this?”

The last question is said with more softness, maybe with a bit of fear. But there’s still this determination in his eyes that you love so much.

You seem to process his words for a moment, and he holds his breath, waiting for your reaction. Then, slowly, a smile spreads across your face. Without warning, you throw your arms around him, and he catches you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“Of course, I trust you,” you whisper against his shoulder and Osamu feels a shiver running down his spine.

“Honestly…” he speaks again, “I’m already pretty busy with the restaurant but maybe it’s time for the business to grow.”

“And I’ll be here for you. We’ll go through this together.”

Just as you’re about to kiss—something Osamu has been craving since you entered the venue—the door swings open.

Bokuto’s loud voice fills the room with your name, and both of you jump apart, startled.

“What-what’s going on here?” The outside hitter blurts out. His expression is one of shock, like a child who just caught their parents placing presents under the tree instead of Santa Claus.

“Are-are you…?” He points his finger at you, one after the other.

“We’re datin’.” Osamu replies first.

“But we want to keep it quiet for now,” you add, not noticing how Osamu’s brows furrow. Had ya mentioned this before? he wonders but keeps the question to himself. After all, it’s fine—it’s not like he was planning on going all loud and proud about your relationship like his brother would. Still, the thought lingers.

Bokuto grins, clapping his hands together. You’re both surprised by the change in his attitude (even though you should be used to Bokuto’s moody antics by now). “About time! Anyway, the team’s going out for drinks. You guys coming?”

You both nod. Once Bokuto disappears, you sneak a small kiss on the corner of his lips before opening the door again. He holds back a frustrated grunt—he wanted more, but who can blame him? After all, he’s a Miya; aiming for more is in his genes.

You find yourself sitting between your boyfriend and Bokuto in a busy izakaya. The room is loud, and it smells like fried meat and beers. For once, you're not the only girl at the table since some of the players' partners are here too. Osamu’s eyes keep drifting back to you, even while Komori is recounting some ridiculous story about how he saved Kiyoomi’s life when they were kids—which the younger cousin firmly denies. He listens, nodding politely, but his gaze betrays him as it keeps landing on you. You’re engaged in a conversation with Meian's fiancée, something about her upcoming wedding as Osamu picks up some words related to that topic.

“Oi, listen up!” Atsumu calls once all the drinks are served. He raises his glass. The chatter dies down, and all eyes turn to him. “First of all, congrats to the team on today's win. We smashed it, boys. Let’s keep it goin’, and we’ll do even better at the Olympics!” A round of cheers follows, glasses clinking together.

“And second, let’s give a round of applause to Shoyo-kun, who’s just signed a contract with Asas São Paulo! - Is that how ya say it? Anyway, I’m gonna miss settin’ to ya man, but ya truly deserve it.” Hinata grins, showing all his teeth, and rubs the back of his head as he thanks everyone.

“And finally,” Atsumu pauses dramatically and smirks, “I gotta congratulate Tobio-kun for his solid performance in the second set... even though I’m the one who finished the game off with that perfect serve.”

Kageyama, ever stoic, only bows his head slightly and mutters some “Thank you.”

Aran turns to Osamu, “Will yer brother ever be humble?”, his tone is both desperate and exasperated.

The older twin hears the remark and starts justifying his words, but it only creates a ripple of laughter all around the table.

Bokuto suddenly stands up, taking Atsumu’s role, with an unexpected serious face. “I’ve got something to say too,” he begins and raises his glass in your direction, before saying your name. “I wanna thank you for all the work you’ve done managing our social media for almost a year. You really helped us connect with our fans, and I just-”

Akaashi, sitting to Osamu’s right, leans over and whispers to your boyfriend, “But Kuroo-san told me she’s still managing the Jackals' social media, even if it’s not her main focus anymore.”

“I will.” You announce, high enough for Koutarou to hear. “I’m not completely leaving the Jackals.”

Sakusa sighs heavily. “We already know that. Bokuto’s just being dense as usual,” he mutters, rolling his eyes.

“Wait, you’re not leaving us?” Bokuto asks and his large amber eyes get glassy.

“No, I’ll still be around. I’ll be based in Tokyo most of the time, but I’ll come by every couple of months.” You smile at him gently.

Bokuto grins before sitting down with a long sigh of relief.

The next minute, he turns to you and Osamu. His eyes scan around and he drops his voice to a whisper, “So... you’ll be in a long-distance relationship?”

From under the table, Osamu squeezes your hand, and you return the gesture with a soft smile.

“Actually... I’ve been thinkin’ about openin’ a shop in Tokyo. It’s still just an idea, though, so let’s keep it between us for now.”

“Dude, that’s another secret I have to keep! But you can count on me.” He takes a sip of beer before adding, “Oh and I’m happy for you two.”

Osamu intertwines his fingers with yours, for the first time in a while it feels like everything is falling into place. As if he can finally exhale after holding his breath for so long, because nothing can come between you now.

He glances at you; you’re absolutely beautiful. It’s almost unfair how gorgeous you appear in his eyes. There’s so much he wishes to tell you right now, so many more touches he wants to share. The desire to be selfish takes over and he leans in. As he parts his lips to whisper that he loves you, Atsumu shouts.

“SUNARIN! So cool you made it!’

You drop his hand in a sharp, almost reflexive move.

Your knees no longer touch each other, a thin void is left where your shoulder was resting.

Suna strides into the izakaya. Osamu can’t help but look at you, as his former teammate approaches to greet everyone. You’re clearly troubled by the situation, and after all, it’s only normal. What Osamu doesn’t like though, is how your gaze is glued to your ex now and how all your attention is directed towards the middle blocker, instead of him.

He feels his lungs get smashed all over again.

Because just when he thought everything was finally settling, it hits him that perhaps, there’s still one more obstacle to overcome.

author notes: i hope you love roller coasters haha

i really enjoyed introducing new characters from haikyuu even though it's only for a small part of the chapter

did you guys love this chapter? (only 1 left btw)

sorry for the delay againnn

lots of love

taglist: @wolffmaiden, @teyvatsunsets, @obibiwan, @sugacor3, @sunahsvt, @iluv-ace, @cinnamonruts

[peterman-spideyparker]

Come Dance With Me/Cheek to Cheek (Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader) - Sinatra Series 5/9

Author’s Note: Hey guys! Here’s the next part. I went back and forth debating for a bit if part 5 and 6 should be switched around, and I decided to leave this as is. I have some other Matt fic ideas working, and they’re all great in my head--they just need to be written down! I hope everyone enjoys! :)

Summary: Matt worries about you when he hears you in his apartment as he’s on his way home after a day in court. As his mind races and prepares for the worst, he’s in no way ready or expecting what he finds when he opens the door.

Suggested listening: Come Dance With Me and Cheek to Cheek by Frank Sinatra

Warnings: Fluff, cooking injury (minor burn on pot handle), cute domesticity, angst (anxious Matt worried about canon-typical violence), swearing

Other Characters: None

Word Count: 1,285

Matt can’t help but ball his knuckles into a fist when he hears movement in his apartment from blocks away. A million things rush through his mind as to who or what awaits him—Elektra, the Hand, even his begrudging friend Frank. But the sound of your soothing heartbeat cuts through everything. 

Why are you in his apartment?

He only quickens his pace slightly along the streets to his building, curious and excited to see what you’re up to after having spent an incredibly long day in court. As he enters the building and ascends the stairs, he hears you cry out in pain and move along the old wood floors. Matt immediately feels his body go into a panic. 

Someone was waiting for him. Someone that Daredevil crossed is taking revenge and you’re in the crosshairs. 

Matt all but breaks down the door, but forces himself to use his keys to unlock the barrier. He’s seconds away from shouting out your name in the apartment when he hears you grumble, “Fucking pot!”

Matt lets out sigh of relief and a smile, letting his heart rate return to a normal speed before opening the door. There’s no one in the apartment with you. 

You’re safe. 

You’re . . . 

You’re trying to surprise him. 

Delicious scents and spices hit his nose more clearly as he hears pots working on the stove and the sink running while you mutter to yourself.

“Shit!” you hiss as you move to put your wrist under a stream of cold water, hoping it will do the trick to ease the burn bubbling on your skin. 

“(Y/N)?” Matt calls.

“Oh, Matt!” you say, looking over your shoulder as he makes a turn into the main space from the small hallway. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he repeats, folding his glasses and placing them on the countertop. “You okay?”

“Oh yeah, I’m fine.”

“Angel.” His “tell me the truth” tone is priceless.

“I didn’t see the pot handle. Well, actually, I thought I had a longer wingspan to reach the oregano,” you confess.

“Here, let me help,” Matt says, taking your elbow and guiding you to the kitchen table to sit. He moves over to one of the shelves, easily grabbing the first aid kit before sitting back down next to you. Matt pulls out some gauze and cream, his fingers pushing aside what looks like an intense amount of supplies for stitching up cuts. 

“I used to help patch up my dad after matches a lot,” he chuckles, putting on a glove before putting a dollop of burn ointment on his fingers. “Can you guide my finger over where it is?” You do as he asks, gently taking his hand and turning it over, letting it hover over your burn. “This is going to hurt, and I’m sorry.”

You stifle a groan of pain as he spreads it around, the pain being quickly followed by relief. 

“You’re doing great, angel,” he encourages you, his voice wonderfully gentle. “Deep breaths.”

After the ointment is spread, he takes a sterile pad and the roll of gauze, wrapping it around the burn—tight enough so it stays on and it can be kept clean, but no too much where it will hurt terrible. When he’s done wrapping, he places a kiss on it through the bandage.

“There. All better.”

“Thanks, Matty,” you hum, leaning forward for a kiss. 

“What are you doing here, anyways, angel?”

You sigh. “I wanted to surprise you with dinner,” you admit. “I don’t know if you know, but I’m in charge of yours and Foggy’s schedule. I literally needed to book time for bathroom breaks for you both this week.”

“You know, ordering in a pizza has a similar impact.”

“Similar isn’t the same,” you grin. “I wanted you to have something other than take out.”

Matt holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger, his thumb gently moving back and forth over your skin as he looks at you with his honey hazel eyes that makes your heart skip a beat. Slowly, he pulls your chin forward and kisses you slowly, his long eyelashes brushing against your cheeks.

“You’re too good to me,” he whispers, pressing another kiss to your lips before leaning back, cleaning up and discarding the used medical supplies.

“No. I just like taking care of you,” you correct, standing as he does and moving back to the pot that retaliated against you minutes earlier. “Now, the most important question: what’s the drink of choice for the night? There’s your shitty beer—.”

“Hey!”

You laugh and continue as you stir the sauce. “There’s some Macallan’s that I picked up, or the classic—red wine.”

“Mm,” Matt hums in thought as he moves behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle and kissing your neck with a loud pucker before pressing his cheek against yours. “You pamper me.”

“No. Pampering you would be giving you a taste of the sauce. Now, open your mouth so I can give you a taste of this sauce.”

Matt lets out a warm chuckle that vibrates throughout your body before allowing you some slack in the embrace to turn around and let him nibble at the food on the spoon. He moans in delight as the flavors dance across his tongue, and he licks his lips. 

“Good?”

“So delicious,” he confirms, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips once more. “Let’s do wine.” Moving from your side, Matt grabs some glasses and a bottle, opening it with a satisfying pop before tilting generous pours into the drinkware.

“I’d say it needs to simmer just a bit more,” you sigh. “Do you think you can wait a bit?”

Matt flashes you that mischievous pout and grin. “I think I have just the thing to pass the time.”

Moving to the side of the living room, Matt feels around on the braille labels on the different records he has on a shelf before smiling and placing it on his little Victrola. Soft jazz begins to fill the apartment, and Matt turns to you with a smile. 

“I didn’t know you liked jazz, too,” you smile. 

“It’s better on my ears than other music,” he says, hoping you can’t notice the pink that rises on his cheeks and ears. “I can put a different record on, if you want?”

You smile and meet him in the living room. “It’s perfect,” you assure him.

“Come dance with me?” he offers, his eyebrows slightly raised in an arch that wrinkles his forehead. Smiling, you slide into his arms and beginning to dance, comfortably slotted against one another so you are cheek to cheek. You sway in a circle, Matt following the music, twirling and dipping you in the living room, being mindful of the injury he so carefully wrapped. You breeze through several songs that fill the loft, getting to simply enjoy one another after a week of pure insanity. Your time together is only interrupted by a particularly loud grumble from Matt’s stomach.

“Sorry,” he chuckles. 

“It’s okay, Matty,” you tell him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “The sauce should be good now. Let me dish you out some chow, hm?”

Kissing your temple, Matt walks with you to the kitchen, thinking about how much he would love to come home to and with you, have you in his arms as he falls asleep, listening to your heart, and breathe in and bask in the softness of your skin as he wakes up. He’s never had this feeling before, but he’ll be damned before if he doesn’t do everything he can to hold onto this feeling, hold onto you, and give you the world ten times over.

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger​ @steampowerednightvaler​ @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles@toozmanykids@dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop @itwasthereaminuteago​ @peter1ismybrother​ @hellskitchens-whore @dpaccione​

Sinatra Series Taglist: @darling-ghosts​ @seasonofthenerd​ @idrinkcoffeeandobsess​ @mattmurdocksscars​ @pedrito-friskito​ @briefcasejuice​ @mindidjarin​ @1800-fight-me​ @saintmurd0ck​ @redheadpixie033​ @mattmurdockstuff​ @djarintreble​ @bacatez​ @preciousbabypeter​ @aramora​ @vanessalovesonedirection​ @jelllycake​

[aurasaurora]

Emotionally Intoxicated

Summary: Your husband was the image of a perfect working man and father, what would happen when you discover he is not what you expected?

Parings: The Salesman x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Manipulation and lying. A short smut scene, oral (f receiving), fingering and missionary. ALSO I did keep one of the character that died alive. So yeah.

A/N: I know the smut scene is kinda out of place, but Gong Yoo makes me feel some type of wayyyy. Also I use the salesman actor name because I don't recall them giving him a name...ANYWAYS enjoy!

“Hey baby, how was work?” You asked your husband as you continued to chop the vegetables. He approached the kitchen island and gave you a kiss on the cheek then turned to look at what was boiling on the stove. “Work was alright. Boring as usual” he never gave many details of what he actually would do during his work. You knew he was a salesman, but what he was trying to sell to people was a mystery to you. Your friends tried to point out how much of a red flag that was, but stupidly you ignored him. Your love and attachment towards him blinded you from accepting the issues with his secrecy.

“What are you cooking?’ He asked, as he began to sir the boiling pot himself. “Smells good, as always.” He turned to smile towards you. You were going to respond but then you remembered something. “Oh, right. Um, two guys came at the door this morning asking for you. One had red hair, the other said he was a businessman. Their names slipped my tongue, but they told me to let you know that they want to speak with you.” You stopped cutting the vegetables to grab another frying pan from the cabinets. Your back was facing him, so you couldn’t see how his expression dropped at your words. His work never interfered with his personal life, ever. He always made sure of it. Not even his boss knows about you or the kids. “They came here?” his voice almost came out in disbelief; how did they even know where you guys lived? “Yeah, even left a fruit basket for the kids. I put it on the table.” You said, finally standing up and heading to grab the oil to add to the frying pan. Gong Yoo headed to the dining room and grabbed the fruit basket aggressively off the dining table. There was a small card, no bigger than a business card with a number on it. He took the card but grabbed the fruits and dumped them into the trash.

“Gong-Yoo what..why? That was for the kids, Iseul was excited to eat it!” You were a little shocked by his behaviour. Fruits are expensive in South Korea, in contrast to your homeland. Not only that but he wasted perfectly good fresh food. And Iseul your oldest child had been begging you non-stop if she could have a bit for dessert.

“I can buy my wife and children their own fruit baskets. I don’t need some guy doing my job.” Legitimately he didn’t care about the fruit basket, he never got seriously jealous because he knew you’d never even think about another man. He just couldn’t say ‘hey honey, two guys who survived from my bosses battle royal came back for revenge so I’m not sure whether or not the fruits are poisoned or something.’ Letting you know too much would put you in danger. So going the jealousy route was best bet for him.

“Oh, come on babe. It was just a kind jester.” You stated as you began seasoning the vegetables. Gong Yoo left out an overexaggerated sigh, “Well I’m going to go check on the kids” giving your ass a swat on his way out.

“Aera is napping don’t disturb her peace.” You groaned in annoyance. You were instantly reminded by the fact that you had to basically battle that 5-month-old to go to sleep somewhere that wasn’t your body.

He creeped up the stairs, looking for the four-year-old and three-year-old. He missed them dearly considering it’s round up season (in which he needs to round up players for the games to begin) he hasn’t seen them as much, as he liked too. “Iseul, Minguk, Appa is home.” He toned down his voice not to awaken the sleeping demon. But it was a mistake because the two toddlers came down running his direction with burst of happiness. Charging towards his direction to give their father a hug. “Oh, I’ve missed you guys so much.” He said while his children suffocated him with their affection. Minguk gave his father a kiss on the cheek, meanwhile Iseul ran back into her bedroom.

“Have you been treating your mother well?” He asked playfully. Minguk was the least troublesome of the three, but he had attachment issues like no other, so he was consistently around you. Unless his older sister wanted to play.

Before Minguk could answer his sister came running back “Appa! Appa! Look! Look!” She handed over him her new toy.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Gong Yoo didn’t mean to yell, but it slipped out. It was a gun, but one that looked awfully like the one that Gi-Hun had pointed at him when they first came in contact. Minguk covered his ears at his fathers cursing, and Iseul looked at him with shame and disappointment. “No bad words!” She scolded him, and her brother nodded furiously in agreement. “I’m telling Eomma.” She began to walk off angrily but Gong Yoo grabbed her tiny body in one swift movement. “Hey monkey, where did you get this?”

“A friend.” She said so simply.

“Which friend?” He asked

“Ummm.” She thought about it for a moment. “From the park. Appa after dinner can we-can we play” He knew he wasn’t going to get any direct answers from a four-year-old. So he’d have to figure shit out himself. “Yeah, we can, just don’t tell Eomma.” He pinched her nose which made her giggle.

“Dinner is ready.” Your soft voice caught him off guard, he didn’t even realize you had come up the stairs. “Yay.” Minguk said before he started running. “MinMin baby, stop running. You’ll hurt yourself.” You turned to look at Iseul, then you saw it. “Why is there a gun?” you went to pick up what you assumed was a toy gun. “Jesus Gong Yoo, you always give the kids the weirdest gifts.” You opened your bedroom door and tossed, the gun into it, then closed the door behind yourself and started walking downstairs with Minguk.

The dinner was oddly talkative yet quiet. The kids babbled about literally anything, normally both you and your husband would be fully engaged in their conversations to help their development, but suspiciously he was pretty quiet. There was a lot of “mmhmm..nice..wow..cool.” rather than actual dialog, while it might have not been clear to the kids. It was clear to you, that he was not paying attention. Eventually the two oldest finished up and you suggested them to go out and play in the backyard. The two of you grabbed your own plates and went to go and sit on the patio table and eat outside while watching the kids play.

“You okay?” You asked, placing a hand on his thigh allowing your thumb to circle his thigh

“Yeah, just drained from work. Um how’s it going with you and your friends.” He quickly changed the subject before you could ask any further.

“Not good. Cho Hee’s husband, you know him, right? Well, he came to us today while we were at the park with the kids. Saying his wife went missing, apparently, she went to play a game or something. I don’t know the whole story is weird.” You felt uncomfortable with the idea that your friend was missing, you wanted to help but Cho Hee’s husband’s story made no sense.

“Oh, I mean it’s unfortunate his wife is missing. But you know Kyong is an unreliable narrator.” He lied. It’s only been maybe an hour or so but the two worlds he specifically never wanted to collide. Were essentially smashing together all at once.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“Well..you know…He’s a heavy drug user. His mind is all over the place.” Now Kyong did do drugs, but all he did was smoke some marijuana in his free time. Your husband made it sound like he was an avid crack user.

You looked at him in shock. “Holy shi- wait is this true? He seemed completely normal to me; how did you know?” You were now concerned because his erratic behaviour would make a lot more sense. Asides from his wife being missing, allegedly.

“Functioning addicts seem normal, but it doesn’t take much to crack them. I’m sure his wife is fine, or probably tried to escape him who knows.” He took a swing of his soju bottle and glanced over at you to see your reaction. He was taken back a bit by your worrisome reaction. It was his turn to comfort you, he placed a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, I’m sure everything is going to be okay.”

“I really hope so.”

***

Your kids currently were with your mother-in-law. Today was your day alone, and you usually did it to go on your runs, workout, and complete your hobbies.

You went out on your morning jog, going around the neighbourhood as you normally did. You went around and did over 5 laps, it was on your 6th lap that when you felt an arm pull you towards the forest near your neighbourhood. You began to kick and scream, begging for someone to help you. Your attacker covered your mouth and pleaded with you to stay quiet. He sounded so empathetic, and incredibly guilty. “Please, please just listen to me.” You continued to attempt to break yourself free from your grip. “I won’t hurt you; I just need to talk.” Hearing his voice again made you recognize it instantly. He was the businessman who came to your door. You stopped fighting not because you believed him. But rather you wanted to catch him off guard. When you stopped screaming and your breathing paced back to normal, he let go of you and you waited 30 seconds before kicking him in the balls and started sprinting. You made it far enough, but surely, before you were able to get out of the forest, he made it in time to drag you back in.

“Please Ma’am we just need to talk, that’s all I want to do. I don’t have much time currently. I swear on my life I won’t hurt you.” His grip being tight around you, was making it hard to believe he didn’t mean any harm. Considering you probably got bruises just from the altercation 30 seconds earlier. He didn’t wait for you to respond. “Your husband, he can’t be trusted.”

“And I’m supposed to trust the man who is strangling me? You’re insane.”

“I have evidence, it’s not much. But it’s enough to show you at the very least he’s not trustworthy.” He huffed out the last part.

“Let me guess, you are one of his associates he may or may not have screwed over financially and now you’re coming for revenge. Whatever money you loss, I’ll pay it back. Just please let this go, let me go.” You were growing tired of battling and attempting to escape his grip.

“No amount of money can fix the amount of blood loosed on his hands. While he might not be the direct cause, he’s still complicit. Hundreds of people are dying every year because of him and his people. You are the one closest to him, help me stop them.” He was pleading with you, and you could tell that he was believing his own words. You were baffled by the sheer stupidity coming out of his mouth.

“You are fucking sick in the head. You know that? You’re saying that my husband is indirectly the cause of hundreds of people’s death annually. T-That’s not fucking possible.” Your denial was in full force, and understandably so.

The businessman pulled out a thumb drive and handed it over to you. “My name is Cho Sang-Woo, if you wish to stop this, contact the number on the drive.” He let go of you and he began walking too wherever.

You immediately got up and started sprinting to your house. You turned your head every few seconds to make sure he wasn’t following you back to your house. You immediately got inside and turned on all the alarm systems. And made sure all the doors were locked, and curtains pulled shut. You ran up to your room with a baseball bat and sat on your bed. You grabbed out your phone and dialed out your husband’s phone number. You knew he was at work, so you tried to not disturb him while he worked, but you desperately needed him.

He didn’t pick up on the first call, so you sent a text to your mother-in-law asking if it would be possible to let your kids stay over for the weekend. After you sent the text message, you immediately got a call back.

Before he could speak you immediately started to talk. “Baby I need you to come back home, like right away. Some asshole tried to grab me when I went on a jog and…and then he- shit.” You couldn’t even speak coherently because the whole situation felt unreal. How do you even tell him what Sang-Woo is accusing him of the murder of an insane amount people. Even if the story felt like bullshit to you, you couldn’t even comprehend how you’d explain it to him.

“He did what? What the fuck did he do to you.” His voice was harsh, but it filled with concern.

“He-…Are you in a train station?” The noise of a passing train took you by surprise. It made no sense for him to be in a train station at this time of day.

“Sweetheart, answer my question, what happened?” He asked again, but this time more calmer.

“He dragged me into the forest near our home. Saying things like I can’t trust you, and that y-you’re complicit in the murders of hundreds of people annually. Just some crazy shit.” Your voice was all over the place, trying to recount what happened.

You heard him curse, then his end went quiet for a minute. “A-and then he just let you go, after spewing lies?” You looked over to the thumb drive, and then closed your eyes for 3 seconds. “Y-yeah. He wanted me to know the ‘truth’ about you.” Something inside of you was telling you not to mention the thumb drive. Your inner thoughts were screaming at you not to say it.

“I’m coming home, I’m an hour or so away. Don’t answer the door for nobody, understood.”

“Yes.”

“Love you baby.” He breathed out hopelessly.

“More than anything.” You responded.

When the phone line went dark. You immediately went to go and grab your MacBook and plugged in the thumb drive. A few files, filed with pictures of your husband, his alleged boss, and a bunch of people who went missing, torturous games. The one photo that stood was your husband slapping a woman, in the next photo it was clearer who the woman was, Cho Hee. She was wearing the same outfit on the last day she was scene. Another photo was Cho Hee dead, captioned on the bottom “Cause of death: Tug of war.” You couldn’t continue looking through the photos, it was far too scary for you to handle. Your denial was kicking in again, and you absolutely refused to believe the man you married, the father of your children, was capable of working for someone like that.

***

When Gong Yoo came home he was feeling incredibly anxious, he normally knew how to handle situations, he always found a way. But now he had no clue how he was going to handle this, he needed to distract you one way or another.

He opened the door and disarmed the alarm. He closed the door slowly not wanting to bring himself to acknowledge his presence in the house. The house was dark with all the curtains shut, and the lights off. He turned on the lights and announced his presences to you. “Baby I’m home.” His voice came without confidence.

You walk down the stairs incredibly slowly, not intentionally, but the previous mental breakdown you had was enough for you to walk down the stairs slightly menacingly.

“Oh look, the pathological liar is home.” You said so expressionlessly. “Wonder what he’s going to lie about next?” By the time you were able to arrive to the bottom of the stairs you could see his hopeless facial expression. “Baby it’s-“

“What? It’s not what I think? Were you really going to pull that lame ass excuse? Seriously? The audacity that you must seriously think I’m going to believe that, not when I have proof.” Even though you appeared to be mad, you were mostly hurt. You couldn’t believe that you were being lied too.

“Proof can be doctored.” He began to walk closer to you, expecting for you to back away from him but you didn’t because the unfortunate pathetic thing about you, you were willing to forgive him. You did not want to believe that your husband was working for the devil himself, a man who would put poor people through hell and back for his own sick entertainment, have hundreds of people die. For his own satisfaction, you couldn’t bear to imagine your husband being okay with any of that.

Ignoring his statement you continued, “You knew about Cho, you saw her before she diapered. You made out her husband to be fucking crazy, tainted another man image you save your own…why Gong Yoo..why the fuck would you do that.” He was quiet for a bit, so you pulled out your phone you’d transfer some of the pictures to your phone and showed him the picture of him and Cho.

“S-So a picture of her and I at the train station is evidence of me having anything to do with her disappearance?” He figured that if he could drag out the situation and over state the obvious, it might make you rethink your intelligence, which he hated doing. However, he could not let you find out the truth, the separation between both worlds were necessary for the protection of his family.

‘You have a car, why would you be at a train station? And in another picture, you were slapping her. Shit doesn’t add up.” You responded back aggressively.

“My car can’t get me everywhere on time, I drive it to the train station, but it’s quicker and more time efficient to leave in parked in the parking lot and go catch a train. And I slapped her because she was talking shit about you, I didn’t tell you that because I know how much that so called friendship means to you. You had a hard time adjusting to living here, and you finally seemed happy.” He was weaving truths with lies. Of course, he didn’t slap Cho Hee because she was talking shit, it was because she kept losing to the game. However, he did over here Cho Hee spoke tremendously terribly about you on several different occasions, to him she was a jealous fake bitch. It’s why he had absolutely no problem recruiting her to the game.

“If you knew she was fake, why not fucking tell me?” You knew realistically you shouldn’t be believing his words, but love was blinding you, as it normally did. “And you’re always so mysterious about your job…baby I don’t know what to believe.” You plopped yourself onto a step putting your hands in your face. Gong Yoo immediately took the opportunity to go and sit beside you and place his arms around you pulling you into his chest “I know that this situation is fucked up, but I need you baby, I need you to just trust me. Okay? I love you so much, and we are a team, and as a team we need to trust each other, okay?’ His charisma was working in full effect, and you fell for his words. Before he could finish his sentence, you planted a kiss on his lips. You just wanted to block out the world and all the bullshit going on, whether he is lying, or telling the truth. You just wanted to feel this moment, you wanted to feel like you did when you first met him, when things were simpler. And while you could never go back to a time like that, you could pretend, just for a moment.

He accepted the kiss and began to slowly make out with you. Instead of the rough passion that you were normally accustomed too, instead there was a sense of sadness and grief. An acknowledgment that the relationship will never return to what it once was. Your hand began to travel downwards, and he knew exactly what it meant. “Upstairs” he mumbled.

When the two of you arrive upstairs, you drop yourself on the bed and he climbed on top of the bed. Lifting your shirt off Gong Yoo waisted no time removing his own, then unbuckling his pants. You removed your own pants, and immediately he slipped his fingers into your pussy.

He watched as you accepted each wave of pleasure as he thrusted his fingers at a sensual pace, you small moans escaping your mouth gave him a sense of peace. He twirled his fingers causing your wetness to spill out as he fingered you. He brought his mouth onto your clit and began to lick it slowly, occasionally allowing himself to suck on your clit. ‘You taste just as sweet as you always do.” He complimented.

You were suffocating by the waves of pleasure hitting you, making it hard to focus on proper breathing. “Gong Yoo I need your dick, please.” You couldn’t even keep your eyes open to look down at him.

He gives your ass a light slap, and you became aware of your mistake. “Oppa, please. I fucking need you inside of me.” You begged. He brought his fingers out of you and pulled his harden dick out of his boxers. He slicks his finger with your wetness and placed it on his dick. Jerking himself off lightly to prep himself. Once he was ready, as much as you were. He slides his dick inside your dripping cunt. The warmth sent shivers down his spine as he adjusted to the new sensation. You guys fucked a million times over, but each time felt like the first time, and it was always amazing whether you were going quickly, or slowly.

His thrust was passionate, and he brought himself closer to you, he’d suck on the skin of your neck as you moan out mercifully. You could feel the power within each thrust as he was hitting your sweet spot, he’d transition from your neck to your mouth, and before you were about to cum you separated the kiss, “I fucking love you so much.”

Mumbled his love back to you before he felt himself spill all inside of you, he kept thrusting. Making sure that you’d still cum even after himself, and so you did. You clenched onto his body as you threw your head back.

Eventually the two of you came crashing down onto the bed. You went under the sheets as you cuddled yourself into him. Aftercare with him always felt so relaxing. He kissed your forehead and kept his arms around you. Eventually you feel asleep, and he got out of his bed.

He tried to slowly exist the bed without waking your presence, but it seems the movement of the bed disturbed you enough to give him a grumble “where are you going?” he told you he needed to go to the washroom, and it was enough for you to go back to sleep. He did walk to the washroom; however, he wasn’t going to use it.

He went into the washroom with the water bottle from the nightstand. Pouring the water in the toilet to give the illusion he went to pee. He then turned on the sink and let the water run. He pulled out his phone dialing the number that he was forbidden to call, only in the series of a legitimate issue, an issue that could threaten the game.

The phone ringing scared him a bit, he was on edge so he thought you might overhear. When the caller finally answered Gong Yoo Knew he only had to say a few words to get the message a crossed.

“Code 907. We are dealing with a strategic takedown. It needs to be dealt with immediately.” Gong Yoo stated simply.

“Understood. Who are we dealing with, and how are we handling it?”

“Seong Gi-Hun, and Cho Sang-Woo along with any accomplice of theirs. Make no exception we are currently under attack. Everything is jeopardized.”

“How are we handling it.” The person on the other side aside of the phone call ask again.

“As we normally do, death.”

[bomberqueen17]

alive

i am alive, i promise, sorry it’s been all queue of late

i made 28 quarts of chicken stock today-- well, packaged it-- actually i made it too, we’d cut the chickens up yesterday and stuck the stock pot in the walk-in cooler overnight but today i put the water in and plonked it on the stove, an enormous stock pot, and simmered it all day while we cut up the rest of the chickens. (yesterday’s chickens we cut up were for sausage, today’s were for sale as parts.) tomorrow we’re ostensibly making the sausage, we’ll see how that goes.

since CSA is over, Farmsister was available to help us today-- but just like last time she helped us, mostly what we needed her to do was to take everything out of the upright freezer in the commercial kitchen and find other places for it to go, which was a heroic undertaking and took her like two hours. it was a lot. she had to restock the farm store just to make room. so it was good, things are beautifully restocked, everything is organized and beautiful, but like, good lord, at what cost.

anyway i just stuck 28 quarts of chicken stock in there so tomorrow we’re gonna have to ask her to do it again, but i believe in her.

i have done like. zero writing this week. lots of 10+ hour days of work, so. oh the insulation in my cabin has been great though. i know it’s november now so i should expect it to be chilly but it’s been like-- warmish during the days mostly, and then in the evening it’s fine and i have actually woken up too hot and sweating twice in the last few days because i was still wearing pajamas and dressing my bed like i expected it to be in the mid-40s in the room where i’m sleeping and... well it’s not.

there’s a mouse making so much fucking noise though, and i haven’t been sleeping well because the fucker like, pitter-patters around the room while i’m trying to sleep. he’s louder because he has to rustle in through the insulation. the roof edging isn’t on properly yet so i cant’ exclude him. so a side project is that i’ve had cayenne steeping in water most of the week, and today i set it up with coffee filters and rubber bands over the mouths of jars, and filtered it into a spray bottle, and i’ve just sprayed cayenne water all along the bottom of the insulation where he’s been coming in. (I know because i can hear him and also see him.) so we’ll see how much noise he makes tonight. i don’t know that cayenne will actually deter him.

anyway i’m gonna have my queue post this tomorrow morning so idk, i’ll hopefully know by then. but i’m so tired, using the queue gives me a minute to proofread and then if i wake up in the middle of the night like “i used that word wrong” i have time to look again when i wake up.

i have so many writing projects underway and no time to work on them. i spent a bunch of time today while i was packaging cold dead raw meat thinking about various projects. it was a nice escape.

here is a surprise snippet from a background bit i’m working on, going slightly back in time to before Ciri re-established the Upper Aedirn Free State, featuring a new OC i’m going to make room for-- a very elderly elf named Faerveren who has aged out of the concept of gender, to give us some unexpected backstory.

Faerveren leaned in the doorway, giving the dh’oine who had so rudely knocked a once-over. He was tall, handsome, self-assured, though he looked a little tired and travel-worn, and the haughty arrogance of his expression was covering a bit of uncertainty. 

“I’m looking for Caerulia Fitzhugh,” he said. 

“I bet you are,” Faerveren said. “Since she lives here.” Faerveren xerself hadn’t lived here terribly long. The Fitzhughs had kindly offered xer a place to stay after xe had come to them injured and ill after the battle for the city. Many elves had needed treatment, but only Faerveren had merited the permanent invitation. Perhaps because the Fitzhughs could appreciate xer age. It was restful, being among others with a similar perspective on the passage of time. 

Faerveren watched the dh’oine’s expression go through disbelief into indignance, and relented slightly. “Are you here on behalf of someone who is sick?”

“No,” he said, frowning, “I need her help.” His frown deepened. “I believe it is not a matter that your kind could understand, elder brother.” He used an Aen Seidhe term, showing that he wasn’t entirely ignorant. 

“Ah,” Faerveren said, “I’m no one’s brother. But I see, you are not the dh’oine you look.” Neither were the Fitzhughs. This was vampire business, then. Another of the reasons Faerveren had been invited to stay was likely the complete lack of reaction xe’d had to the revelation that both Fitzhughs were bruxae. But Faerveren’s people had lived in peace with higher vampires, never their prey and never their antagonists, so it hadn’t been alarming to figure it out. It wasn’t as though they were particularly secretive about it. They tended not to shift or fly where anyone could see them, but Caerulia had a habit of gliding around without touching the ground because of an old foot injury, and nobody seemed to notice. The dwarves of Vergen were singularly unconcerned about vampires as well. 

“No,” the man said. “Can you tell her, Dettlaff is here? She knows me, though it has been years since we spoke.”

Faerveren sighed. “Perhaps you should come in and sit down,” xe said.

[fandom-smut-shots]

Keith Kogane - I’m Not Going Anywhere

Not Going Anywhere

A/N: Modern life AU.

Also, any genders and pronouns are acceptable to request. If not specified, I default to female, because that’s the majority of reader inserts in my experience.

Summary: You’ve been dating Keith for about six months, but you’ve only recently met his group of friends. He’s worried that they each have more to offer you than he does, and his insecurities eat away at him until you calm him down.

Words: 2,063

           “Your girlfriend is coming to the party, right?”

         Keith froze, glancing up at Shiro where the older man stood beside the stove, preparing a pot of spinach artichoke dip. He was a disaster at cooking actual food, but he’d managed to learn to prepare dips like a boss.

         “Uh…” was all the black-haired boy managed in response, shoving a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

         “Come on, Keith,” Shiro chided gently, employing his best Older Brother voice. “You’ve been seeing this girl for, what, six months now? I think it’s time I met her. And what better time to introduce her to the gang than at your birthday party?”

         “Do I have to introduce her to everyone?” Keith whined, glaring down at his breakfast. “Can’t she just meet you and be done with it?”

         Shiro sighed, turning to argue when he caught sight of his brother’s expression. Keith wasn’t one for expressing his emotions, so Shiro had learned early on how to read the arch of his brow and the shine of his eyes. Keith currently looked crestfallen, which given the circumstances meant that insecurities were buzzing around inside his head.

         “It’s going to be fine, Keith,” the older boy commented, taking a seat across from Keith at the table. “Everyone is going to love her, and she’s going to love your friends.”

         “That’s what I’m worried about,” was all Keith murmured before he stood, setting his cereal bowl in the sink before turning to skulk down the hallway towards his room.

           “I’d love to go to his birthday party!” you squealed into the phone, balancing it between your ear and your shoulder so you had free use of your hands. “I’m almost done decorating his cake. I could bring it with me!”

         “He’d love that,” Shiro chuckled on the other end. “We’re not a baking-inclined family, so it’s always store-bought cakes for us.”

         “He told me he just wanted to do something simple to celebrate with me,” you returned, swirling icing atop the cake to add calligraphic decoration to Keith’s name. “I wonder why he didn’t tell me you were throwing him a party.”

         “He doesn’t like being the center of attention,” Shiro reasoned.

         You hummed in agreement. “That’s true.” Setting the piping bag on the counter, you paused, a frown forming on your lips. “It’s not… He wants me to come, right? He won’t be mad that you invited me?”

         Shiro sighed into the receiver, and you bit your lip nervously. “He’ll be upset that I went behind his back, but I know him very well, and I think he’d enjoy the party a lot more if you were there. He’s just nervous about you meeting his friends. They can be a handful.”

         “If you’re sure,” you replied. The last thing you wanted to do was upset your boyfriend while trying to celebrate his birthday. “I’ll be there. With a cake.”

         “Perfect,” the man on the phone replied. “I’ll see you tonight. It’ll be great, I promise.”

  ��      You hung up the phone and set it on the counter, admiring your handiwork on your boyfriend’s cake. Exhaling softly, you tried to believe Shiro’s words. Everything would be fine.

           Your heart hammered in your chest as you approached the front door of Shiro and Keith’s shared house. Carefully balancing the cake with one hand, you raised the other to knock on the door, waiting patiently but anxiously for someone to answer. The door opened to reveal Shiro, smiling widely upon seeing you on the other side.

         “(y/n)! It’s so great to meet you!” he greeted enthusiastically. “I’m Shiro, Keith’s older brother. I apologize if I startled you with that phone call earlier – I wasn’t sure Keith would actually follow through and invite you.”

         “He didn’t,” you giggled. “I don’t mind at all. I’ve been wanting to meet you for months.”

         “Let me take that for you,” he offered, easing the cake out of your hold. He headed inside, nodding for you to follow him. You closed the door behind you, following the tall man- like seriously, how was he that tall?-  into the kitchen. There stood a thicker boy, nearly as tall as Shiro, stirring and chopping like a professional chef.

         “That cheese sauce smells amazing, Hunk,” Shiro complimented the cook, placing the cake on the counter.

         “It’s almost done- ooh, where’d the cake come from?” the cook inquired.

         “Keith’s girlfriend.”

         The spoon being used to stir the cheese sauce fell to the floor with a clink, gooey cheese splashing all over the tile.

         “Keith’s what?!”

         The tall, tanned cook spun on his heel, a grin splitting his lips as he caught sight of you. “She’s real!”

         Shiro laughed softly, stepping closer to you. “Hunk, this is (y/n). (y/n), this is Hunk, our resident chef. He shares a few classes with Keith.”

         “I’m an engineering major,” Hunk explained, offering his hand. You placed your comparably tiny hand in his, giggling softly.

         “It’s nice to meet you. Keith has mentioned your cooking.”

         Hunk’s eyes sparkled at the confirmation that the emotionally constipated raven appreciated his food before he turned back to the stove.

         “Hey, Shiro, what-“ Keith stopped in his tracks as he entered the kitchen, his eyes widening as he stared at you. “(y/n)? What are you doing here?”

         “I invited her because I knew you wouldn’t,” Shiro explained.

         “It’s okay that I’m here, right, babe?” you questioned, brows furrowing with worry as you took Keith’s hands in yours.

         “Babe?” teased an unfamiliar voice. “Keith lets someone call him babe?” A tall, thin brunet sauntered into view, resting his elbow on your boyfriend’s shoulder. “Hey, who’s the hottie? She’s- ow!”

         Keith’s elbow collided with the brunet’s rib, and he stepped away.

         “Yeah, it’s okay,” Keith murmured, lacing his fingers with yours, but you could hear the uncertainty in his voice. You stood up on your toes, pressing your lips to his, and he melted into the gesture despite having an audience. The brunet from before whistled at the sight, and Keith pulled back with a glare in his eyes and a blush on his cheeks.

         “I’m (y/n,” you introduced, offering your hand.

         “The name’s Lance,” the tan brunet grinned, taking your hand in his and lightly kissing your knuckles. You simply raised a brow in response, unsurprised when Keith ripped Lance’s hand away from yours.

         “She’s taken,” he growled, wrapping an arm around your waist. You giggled softly, resting your head on Keith’s shoulder.

         “Is that everyone?” you inquired, looking towards Shiro.

         “Hunk!” another voice called from the hallway. “Are the nachos done? I’m starving- oh, hey.”

         Finally, someone not insanely tall.

         “I’m Pidge,” they offered, lifting their hand to their head in a salute. “You must be Keith’s girlfriend.”

         “(y/n),” you countered. “Are you another friend of his?”

         Pidge stole a chip from the bowl on the table, popping it into their mouth. “If that’s what we’re calling it. I’m friends with Lance and Hunk, and they kinda forced Keith to join the group.”

         “I encouraged it,” Shiro replied. “My brother needs social skills.”

         “I have plenty of social skills,” Keith grumbled in response.

         Lance snickered loudly, Pidge choked on a ship, and Hunk chuckled from his place at the stove.

         “I got myself a girlfriend without your interference, didn’t I?” your boyfriend defended, his grip around your wait tightening.

         “How did you two meet, anyway?” Pidge questioned.

         “I’m an art major,” you replied. “We met in Interpretive Painting.”

         “Keith takes art classes?” Lance gasped, his voice raising several octaves.

         “Makes sense,” Pidge shrugged.

         “Interpretive Painting?” Hunk repeated. “That sounds like fun.”

         “Ah, someone who will encourage my brother to keep working on his art,” Shiro smiled. “I already love her.”

         Keith used his hand on your waist to guide you away from the others, leading you to the living room. He sat on the couch, pulling you onto his lap, securing his arms around you. Your own arms wrapped around his neck, your fingers toying with his thick raven hair. His nose nuzzled into your neck as he inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of your body wash.

         “Why didn’t you want me to meet them?” you inquired softly. “They seem nice.”

         “Too nice,” he murmured against your skin. “They’ll take you away from me.”

         You pulled away from Keith just enough to lift his head, caressing his jaw with your hand, gazing softly into his violet eyes. “You don’t really think that, do you?”

         His gaze dropped somewhere behind you – a tell that the current situation made him vulnerable and insecure.

         “You heard them in there. I’m not social. How many times have you told me I suck at texting back? If you hadn’t been so friendly, I wouldn’t have even been able to ask you out.”

         “So?” you questioned, brushing your thumb across is cheekbone. “I’m dating you, aren’t I? If you being anti-social was an issue, I wouldn’t have said yes.”

         He sighed, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “Lance is better at romance and dating. Pidge is smart, and you like a lot of the same games. Hunk can cook actual meals. They have more to offer you.”

         Your heart broke at his honesty. You knew how hard it was for Keith to be so open, even with you. He must have been dreading the day you met his friends if he was this concerned about it.

         Taking his face in your hands, you lifted his head until you can access his mouth. You gently pressed your lips to his, pouring your emotions into the kiss. He sighed softly against your lips, his arms tightening around your waist. You let one hand slide back to tangle in his hair, gently tugging on the strands.

         “I’m not going anywhere,” you promised between kisses. “I love you, Keith. Befriending your friends means I get to spend more time with you and learn more about you. They’re not going to take me from you, I promise.”

         “Dinner is done!” Hunk’s voice called from the kitchen.

         You slid off of Keith’s lap, much to his dismay, and offered him a hand. “Come on, babe. Let’s go eat.”

         He took your hand, lacing your fingers and squeezing softly as he followed you into the kitchen. Chips, cheese, meat, and vegetables decorated the table as a homemade nacho bar for everyone to dig into. Keith’s amethyst eyes danced around the kitchen, landing on an unfamiliar container on the counter.

         “What’s that?” he inquired, turning his gaze to Hunk.

         Hunk grinned. “(y/n) brought it.”

         “It’s your cake,” you replied, shoving a fully-coated nacho into your mouth.

         “You made me a cake?” Keith questioned, his eyes softening as he looked at you.

         “The plan was for us to have a private party after you were done here,” you shrugged. “When Shiro invited me, I figured I might as well bring the cake.”

         Keith dipped his head, pressing a loving kiss to your lips. Lance and Pidge cat-called from somewhere behind you, but Keith didn’t seem to mind. Shiro smiled from behind Keith, shaking his head softly.

           After dinner and cake were thoroughly enjoyed, you followed Keith and his friends to the living room to watch movies. He sat on the couch and you reclaimed your place on his lap, snuggling into his chest. His hands intertwined with yours, his fingertips brushing your knuckles, and you peppered soft kisses to his jaw, reminding him that you were his.

         While everyone was enthralled in the movie, you turned to face your boyfriend. You untangled a hand from his in order to lift it to his face, cupping his cheek. He turned his gaze from the movie to look at you, a soft expression in his eyes that only you were allowed to see. You shifted in his lap, pulling his lips down to yours. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, gently nipping at your lower lip with his teeth. You were tempted to give in until you recalled your company, reluctantly breaking the kiss and settling back against his chest.

         “I’m not going anywhere,” you murmured softly, squeezing his hand as you watched the movie. The kiss he pressed to the side of your head told you that he understood, and while you knew his insecurities wouldn’t be magically washed away, you also knew that he was trying and that was more than enough for you.