#because it was like he’d actually taken my words straight out of my mouth

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

it does something incomprehensible to my little writer’s soul whenever alex articulates a phenomenon of the writing process i’ve always picked up on and then goes on to describe it in exactly the same way

[slvtforsimon]

Breeding Kink

Synopsis - The guys and breeding kinks.

Warnings - NSFW.

Word Count - 1.9k.

[Caffeinate Me]

SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY doesn’t realise he has a breeding kink until you make a joke about it. You’re play fighting, and losing, when you say “just hurry up and get me pregnant so I don’t have to do this anymore.” Simon’s eyes go wide and he feels his throat run dry. The thought of you being pregnant has never occurred to him before, but now you’ve mentioned it he cannot for the life of him stop thinking about it. After that comment, every time you have sex it’s unprotected. He’s ashamed of his newly found kink, but claims that it just ‘feels better’. One night, he’s bullying his fat cock into your tight cunt when the words just slip past his lips. “You gonna make me a daddy tonight, yeah baby?” 

As soon as the words leave his mouth he regrets it, almost pulling out of you because of the sheer embarrassment he feels. But you respond with “yes! Yes, anything for you!” This just drives Simon absolutely feral. He flips you over onto all fours, pounding into you relentlessly. It doesn’t take long before he’s shooting his cum deep inside of you, coating your walls with his creamy mixture and a loud shout of your name. You’re both laying in bed, breathing heavily as you come down from the orgasms when you turn to look at him. “Did you really mean what you said?” Simon just nods and it hits you. “Oh my God. You have an actual breeding kink!” 

“So what if I do?” He mumbles, looking away from you out of embarrassment. 

“Nothing, nothing,” you giggle lightly before adding, “but you want to make me a mummy.” Simon doesn’t fight you on this, after all it is what he wants. He just holds you close to him, kissing the top of your head as you fall asleep. He hopes that in a few months, there will be a baby Riley running around the house.

KÖNIG had never had a breeding kink until he met you. Now, he won’t shut up about it. Always brings it up whenever he can, and will always play on it during sex. “Going to fill up. Going to fill you up so good with my babies,” he’d growl in your ear as he pumps his cock into your tight hole. You can’t reply with words, you can just shriek and moan as he hits your cervix again and again, threatening to spill his seed straight into your womb without mercy. The thought of filling you to the brim with his cum and getting you pregnant turns him on so much. He’ll angle your hips just right so that he can be as deep inside you as possible. 

“König!” You cry out, fisting the sheets below you. “I can’t take it! I’m gonna cum!”

“Cum for me,” it comes out as a command and it has you gushing around his cock in an instant. König’s large hands rest on your stomach and he closes his eyes, envisioning you swell with his child and that pushes him over the edge. He’s groaning praises of how good you feel in your ear as he fucks his cum into you, not bothering about the mess you’re making on the bedsheets. When you’ve milked him dry, his hips finally stop moving but he remains plugging you. 

“Baby, you’re squishing me.”

“Gotta make sure it takes,” he whispers, kissing your cheek. There was no way he was moving off of you until morning if it meant there was a possibility of you getting pregnant.

JOHNNY ‘SOAP’ MACTAVISH doesn’t even think about it until he sees you with a friend's baby. You look so good holding a baby and he can’t help but think you’d look even better growing one. One night he’s in between your thighs, eating you out like a man starved when he looks up at you through his lashes and moans into your pussy, “can you give me a baby?” You're taken back by his words, and need a moment to think about it but before you realise it, you’re nodding your head and your legs are trembling as your orgasm washes over you. “Does my girl have a breeding kink?” He asks with a smirk.

“You’re the one with the breeding kink,” you say breathlessly. 

“Aye,” Johnny replies, kissing your thighs until they stop shaking. He leans up to press a kiss on your lips and with a raised eyebrow he asks, “so is that a yes or a no?” 

“Fuck me and we’ll find out,” you reply teasingly, opening your legs wide for him. It’s not long before he’s fucking you into oblivion and making you beg for his cum inside of you. You’re not even embarrassed about it, instead you’re pathetically begging for him to spill his load deep inside your cunt. The second you mention being a mummy to his babies, he’s a goner. His hips are stuttering and his cock is twitching as he cums shamelessly. When he’s finished, he pulls out of you. “I love you Johnny.”

“I love ya too lass.”

JOHN PRICE is the OG when it comes to breeding kinks. This man is researching the best positions to get you pregnant before you even know it. Is constantly thinking about your swollen stomach, carrying his child that he just wants to make it a reality. One day you opted to babysit for your friend and when John walks in, he’s met with the most lovely sight. You’re sitting on the sofa, humming a lullaby to the infant in your arms with hopes of lulling them to sleep. John smiles and sits down next to you, placing a hand on your thigh and whispering, “good day?”

“Really good day,” you say with a grin. You fail to notice the straining erection against his trousers. 

In less than an hour, your friend swings by to pick up her child and after a cup of tea, eventually leaves you and John alone in your home. That’s when John turns to you with a look of intense lust in his eyes. “Fuck, how badly do you wanna be a mummy?” He asks, stalking closer to you. 

Your eyes widen slightly and you shyly reply, “really badly.” That’s all John needs to hear before he’s ripping your clothes off you, whispering in your ear that he’ll buy you new ones. He pushes you onto the sofa so that you’re on all fours, and frees his hard cock from its restraints. His tip is angrily red and already leaking so much pre-cum. You don’t even have time to joke about it before he slams himself inside of you, thrusting relentlessly into your poor little pussy. “You, ah, really want me to be a mum huh?” You manage to moan through each thrust, a slight little chuckle leaving your lips. 

“You have no idea,” John growls. He lets you cum before he does, as in usual fashion. His fingers work magic against your throbbing clit and you’re spraying all over the sofa before you’re even able to vocalise it. “Now it’s my turn,” he whispers in your ear, speeding up his thrusts until you’re scared that he’s going to break the sofa. With a grunt, he spills his cum inside of you, babbling about how good you’ll look pregnant and that he can’t wait to have babies with you. 

PHILLIP GRAVES is much like König in the fact that he doesn’t realise he has a breeding kink until he meets you. Your sex life with Phillip is relatively wild and one night, you’re sat talking about your kinks over a glass of wine. “What about you?” You ask, taking a sip of your wine before looking over at Phillip. 

He clears his throat, thinking as to whether he should really tell you this. But before his brain even tells him it could potentially be a bad idea, he’s saying, “I wanna fill you up with cum until you get pregnant.” 

You blink at him rapidly, processing the newly found kink information. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he says sternly, narrowing his eyes at you. “I want to cum inside your pretty little pussy until you give me a pretty little baby.” Your mouth hangs open, but before you can say anything, Phillip is kissing you roughly while setting your wine glass down on the coffee table. He pulls you onto his lap, erect cock straining against his trousers as he thrusts his hips up against your clothed cunt. You let out a soft moan and allow Phillip to take off your clothes until you’re completely bare before him. “That sound good? Wanna give me a baby?” He coos, tilting his head to the side as he lines his cock up with your entrance. 

“Yes,” you gasp out as he slams into you. 

“Atta girl,” he grins, slamming into you relentlessly. Your back arches and you already feel the coil in your stomach snapping as his cock fills you up perfectly. You can’t help the moans that fall from your lips as he whispers the most obscene things to you. “Gonna fill you up right here and now baby, m’kay? Gonna make everyone know you’re mine with that baby in your belly.” At his words, you’re cumming around him and at the spasming of your cunt around his cock, Phillip cums too. 

Your breathing is heavy as he pulls out of you, half-lidded eyes watching him gather some cum from your thighs and shoving it back inside of you. “I didn’t know you had a breeding kink,” you say breathlessly. 

Phillip shrugged. “Neither did I, until I met you.” 

KYLE ‘GAZ’ GARRICK is shy about his breeding kink and always keeps it a secret from you. You don’t find out until you’re actively trying for a baby. His cockhead slams into your cervix viciously as you cream around him, pathetically whining for more. “You’re gonna give me a baby aren’t you?” He asks as he continues to pound into you. You nod your head enthusiastically, biting at the skin on your bottom lip to stop a scream from escaping. “Fuck, I’m going to fill you up until you can’t take anymore. Gonna get a baby out of you one way or another.”

“Please!” You cry out, head lolling back against the strown about pillows. Kyle can’t help but cum as your cunt clenches around his fat cock, but he continues thrusting his hips to get as much as he can deep inside of you. Like König, he remains inside of you, desperate not to waste a single drop in fear that his effort was in vain. After a few seconds of breathless panting, you finally speak up. “I never knew you had a breeding kink.”

“Didn’t want to tell you before we were trying, just in case it spooked you,” he replied, kissing your cheek softly. 

“You really wanna have a baby with me?” You ask softly as your fingertips trail patterns on his back.

“More than I need air to breathe,” he mumbles, burying his head into the crook of your neck and leaving wet kisses in his wake. 

“Let me have a minute and we can go again,” you say with a grin. Kyle feels his cock harden inside you again at your words and within seconds he’s slowly thrusting into you again. Let’s just say, you both didn’t get much sleep that night.

[cheolhub]

WHAT YOU NEED — JEON WONWOO ࿐

summary. wonwoo knows how shy you get telling him what you want, but he’ll get you to use your words one way or another.

wc. 2.5k

warnings. mean-ish soft dom!wonwoo, sub! reader, corruption kink + slight humiliation kink! lots of teasing from wonwoo, lots of begging from reader, pet names [love, baby, sweet girl], dirty talk [😵‍💫], possessiveness (reader is so into it), heavy praise, unprotected sex, creampie — MINORS DNI 18+

note. it’s been months… hellooo… i forgot how to write so forgive me for the shitty plot lol. this is me attempting to get back into the writing world 🤓 hopefully ONE of u enjoys this <3 p.s. i’m srsly in my wonu era

“remember what i said, love,” wonwoo murmured, soft lips pressed against the shell of your ear. “if you want something, you gotta use your words.”

you hated this– everything about this– the teasing, the deep timbre of his voice that shoots heat straight to your core, him in general. he’s well aware of the fact that you can’t stand it at this moment, but that doesn’t put an end to his teasing. 

your back arches off his chest as you feel the ghost of his fingers over your painfully wet cunt, covered in a pair of cotton panties. “wonwoo…” you whine, eyes brimming with tears of frustration. “please…”

he merely chuckles, pressing a kiss to the skin under your ear. “please what?”

when you and wonwoo started dating, you were so shy. so shy and so, so sweet. you’d never been with anyone before him, and of course he felt bad that he was the one to rob you of your innocence, but he was filled with a sense of pride (and urgency) when he’d found out he was the one to corrupt you and ruin you for everyone else. 

and he was gentle. yes, jeon wonwoo was so, very gentle, handling you like a pretty doll while coaxing orgasms out of you left and right with his hands and mouth till your body was slack and you were nothing but a puddle of tears. he got you ready for his cock and you took it well. then you took it again. and again. and again, till you and him both knew you were his and he was yours. 

it got to the point where you’d crave him at the most inconvenient times. while you were running errands, at work, at dinner with your friends– it was almost insufferable. 

but he always took care of you. all you had to do was ask and he’d be there at your beck and call with whatever you wanted, whether it was with his mouth, fingers or cock. 

he always makes you ask because wonwoo’s taken a certain… liking… to making  you say the filthiest things. he knows it makes you nervous, but that’s why he thinks he loves it. he loves your stammering and how he can feel the heat radiating from your body. it’s cute.

which is why you’re in your current predicament, sat between his legs, your own spread over his with your back pressed to his chest after sending an innocent ‘come over, please? <3’ text. 

“don’t make me say it, won… it’s…it’s unbecoming. just… please.”

usually, he’s not so adamant on getting you to say exactly what you want. all you had to do was say please, and he was all yours. 

but no, not today apparently. 

“there’s nothing unbecoming about it, my love.” he noses at your neck, his breath fanning over your racing pulse and eliciting your soft shudder. “just tell me what you invited me over for and i’ll give it to you.”

“please… touch me.” you whisper, heat creeping from where his lips are on your to neck all the way up to the tips of your ears. 

you can feel his shit-eating grin and you want to scream at him, but your need for him is much more profound than your desire to slap him in the face for teasing you to this extent. 

his hands rub up and down your arms and you hear his smile when he asks, “like this?”

you groan, shaking your head, “you know what i mean!” 

“i don’t know what you mean, actually. can you dumb it down for me?” 

you mentally curse him out, but you try to steady your breathing before you speak again. “touch me… down… there.” you attempt to say, but it comes out as more of a squeak.

wonwoo’s uncharacteristically large hands find your tummy and you want to sob when he asks, “here?” you shake your head. “words.” the demand vibrates through you and you let you an embarrassing whimper.

“lower,” you whisper, unable to trust your voice. “please, wonwoo.”

he runs his fingers down your abdomen and trails them down your thighs. you can’t help the cry that leaves your mouth. “mean. you’re so mean.”

“you can say it, sweet girl.” he whispers. “it’s not unbecoming. it’s not inappropriate. it’s fucking hot. i want you to tell me exactly what you want and i swear to god i’ll give it to you.”

you sniffle, frustrated and slightly embarrassed, but you stutter out in the softest voice he’s ever heard you use, “please touch my pussy, wonwoo.”

you think it feels awkward and gross coming out of your mouth with your voice, but wonwoo… wonwoo groans, hand immediately slipping into your panties. “good fucking girl.” he grumbles as his fingers find your clit. 

you jolt at the contact but melt into him just as quickly. “fuck,” you whimper, thankful that you’re finally receiving the touch you’ve been craving for the past half hour. “f-faster, please.”

wonwoo’s chest swells with that familiar sense of pride again as he hears your beg. he obliges, the rough pads of his fingers circling the swollen, pleading bud. “you’re so fucking wet…”

you moan, head falling back on his shoulder. your face burns like never before as you get out, “f-for… you. ‘m wet for you.”

wonwoo isn’t always vocal, but when he is? he’s loud. so the moan that slips from his mouth startles you a bit. 

“that’s right, all for me.” he grunts, possessiveness lacing his voice causing the jostling of butterflies in your tummy. “all fucking mine, forever mine.”

you change your mind at this– you love the teasing, the deep timbre of his voice, him especially. 

“always yours.” you nod vigorously, body writhing as he quickens the movement of his fingers. 

wonwoo doesn’t have much self-control when it comes to you, so it’s taking everything in him to not flip you over and fuck you till all you can say is yours, yours, always yours. instead, he opts for trying to get more out of your pretty mouth. “how do you feel, baby? tell me how much you like my fingers playing with this pretty little cunt.”

it’s so filthy, but you can’t help but arch your back at the sound of his words. “love them s’much, wonwoo. feels s’good.”

he’s sure you do feel good, he’s a skilled man after all, but he knows you probably need more. 

“yeah?” he responds breathily, cock aching at the validation and how pretty you sound saying his name. “this enough to make you cum, or do you want more?”

your brain fogs over at the thought of more. you can nearly taste ecstasy on the tip of your tongue and you don’t doubt that you could get off with just his fingers, yet… the idea of being filled to the brim with his fingers or his cock is much more compelling. 

“more.” you breathe in reply. 

“what was that?” he teases, fingers slowing down. 

there’s that wicked sense of humor that makes you want to slap him across the face.

you barred your teeth before gritting, “fuck me, please. i need more. i need you, wonwoo.”

his ministrations stop and before you get the chance to complain, he’s rolling your panties down your legs and guiding you to straddle his abdomen. he slips his sweats down enough for his cock to come out and, even though you can’t see it, you can feel its looming presence. 

“take what’s yours, baby.” he stares up at you while you stare back, eyes wide. 

“y-you… you want me to…?” he knows what your unfinished question translates to and he nods and gives you a lazy smile even though you can see the burning desire in his blown out pupils.

you let out a short breath and nod, more to yourself than anything. he’s never let you have control while you’re on top, but you feel giddy that he’s giving you a chance now. you lift your hips up and take a hold of his hardened length in your hands. you run the blushy tip of his cock through your folds, eliciting a hiss from the man under you, before finally sliding down his cock. slowly, you feel every inch of him invade your pussy and it’s so good, despite the slight burn.

you forget how tight the fit is every time. even with how wet you are, you still feel your walls stretching to accommodate his size. 

you cry softly, body going limp as you finally hit the base of his cock. “won…”

“you feel so good,” he moans softly, hands finding purchase on your hips. “are you alright? does it hurt?” he manages to ask, cock twitching at the way your walls wrap around him.

you shake your head incessantly, hoping he doesn’t worry too much. “no– no, ‘m okay. j-just need to adjust.”

wonwoo nods empathetically, rubbing soothing circles into your skin to ease you. “you’re doing so well.” he whispers after a minute of silence, the only sounds being your ragged breaths and the soft hum of the air conditioning. “gonna make sure you feel so good, baby.”

you feel the heat reappear and a gush of arousal leak at the praise in his hushed voice. it inspires you to take action. 

you press your palms to his clothed abdomen, wishing he’d taken off his shirt so you can feel his skin, but you can’t be bothered to ask him to do so now. you lift your hips up his cock before letting yourself drop, a moan tumbling out of your mouth when you feel how deep he is inside you. 

you repeat the sloppy movements, stangled moans slipping with every sharp thrust as you spear yourself on his length over and over. 

it’s not till wonwoo guides you with the tight grip of his hands on your waist that you find a steady tempo, the sound of skin on skin growing louder with the mixed sounds of his grunts and your mewls. 

you slip your hands under his shirt, craving the closeness, and lightly run your nails down the skin. you feel him contract under the contact and you can’t stop the way your walls tighten around him when his hands squeeze you harder. 

the longer you ride him, the more your thighs burn. it eventually causes your speed to falter and wonwoo, ever the observer, is quick to notice. he decides you’ve had enough and bucks his hips into you, meeting you halfway while groaning out your name. 

the bulbous head of his cock rams into your sweet, special spot as he takes over and you throw your head back in utmost pleasure. tears spring to your eyes and wonwoo finds this to be the most beautiful sight he’s ever laid his eyes on. your tits bouncing with every push, your mouth cracked open as the prettiest sounds leave it, the way your eyebrows knit in pleasure– he makes a mental note to bring his camera next time you invite him over. 

“tell me what you need, love.” he demands yet again, words breathy and clipped as his cock throbs in between your velvet walls. “tell me what this pretty pussy needs and i’ll fucking give it to you.” his sentence ends in a growl when your nails bite into his bare skin, leaving red, crescent shapes in their wake. 

you let out a choked sob, “w-wonu–”

he sits up, using his strength to bounce you up and down at a leisure pace– one that he knows does nothing for your needy body. “don’t get shy on me now, baby, you can tell me.” he coaxes, sultry voice circling your brain. 

you swear if your body burns any hotter, you’ll explode.

your mouth opens to let out a plea, “p-please make me cum– please, i-i wanna–” your words are swallowed by him as he smashes his lips to yours. you moan his name into his mouth and he all but moans back into yours. 

you involuntarily clench around him when he hastily bucks into you while also guiding your hips on his cock. when he pulls back, he sports swollen lips and lust-ridden eyes and it makes you all the more needy for your coveted release. 

“rub your clit and get yourself off for me, yeah?” you pants before his mouth lands on one of your breasts, sucking and tugging at the peaked nipple. 

you follow instructions, two of your fingers moving to circle the swollen bud and your free hand gripping his shoulder for more support. 

at the onslaught of pleasure, the knot that’s been rapidly forming in your tummy all night tightens beyond belief and you know you’re on the precipice of an orgasm. wonwoo, being as perceptive as he is, just moans at the way you pulse uncontrollably around his cock. 

if you’ve learned anything from the teasing and the rather humbling experience you’ve had tonight, it’s that you should definitely voice what you want. 

and that’s exactly what you do. 

“i– fuck, wonwoo. i need to cum, please let me.” you beg as you get closer and closer to your anticipated release. 

he releases your nipple with a pop and nearly growls. “cum for me, baby.” 

it’s all you need to hear before a silent scream leaves your lips and white, hot pleasure runs its course. your body goes taut as the tether in your belly snaps in half, cunt and body practically spasming all the while your brain spins erratically. 

wonwoo is enthralled by the sight and feeling of you. the grip he has on you is near bruising as he watches you fall apart on him– feels you fall apart on him. 

“so beautiful,” he praises, voice strained as he nears his own release. “my beautiful girl. you’re so fucking good for me, you know that?” he rambles, cock twitching as you let out more whines and whimpers.

“c-cum in me.” you demand, voice broken and hoarse from all the screaming. “i-i wanna feel it. i need to.”

an animalistic growl bubbles in the back of his throat and his slow pace and sweet praise disappears, replaced by an unforgiving speed at which he pounds into you. you’re back to broken moans as he lets out labored pants till, shortly after, he’s stills inside of you, cock nestled at your hilt and he’s releasing his warm load inside of your battered walls. 

you collapse on top of him, savoring the feeling of his warmth inside of you. 

“did i hurt you?” he whispers after a few minutes of unsteady breathing from the both of you. 

you shake your head. “just my dignity,” you joke softly, resting your forehead against his. “i’m alright, don’t worry.”

he chuckles, cupping your cheek and running the pad of his thumb over the dried tear streaks, “i was a bit mean, huh?”

“so mean.” you tease, kissing the corner of his mouth. “you’re lucky i love you.”

“beyond lucky.”

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[creamflix]

hi hello i came across ur account recently and jus wanna say i am OBSESSED ma. ur the actual coolest

anywaysss i also happened to see your christmas event, so i was wondering if i could req a gojo + mistletoe + naughty fic?

thank u sm!!

you’ve received a gift! ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ want your own gift? ・:〃➜ click here! 

nanami’s christmas party was supposed to be peaceful — a little too peaceful, if you were being honest. the warm hum of soft jazz carols, polite laughter, and the clink of wine glasses was enough to lull anyone into a festive daze. 

but you? you were on high alert.

why? because GOJO SATORU, your friend — well, kinda — was out for blood. 

or more accurately, out for a kiss.

“come oonnnn, it’s tradition!” he’d declared earlier, dangling a sprig of mistletoe in your face with the grin of a man who had no intention of playing fair.

“tradition my ass, satoru,” you snapped, sidestepping him. “stop harassing people with that thing.”

“people?” he gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “you wound me. it’s just you, baby. you’re the target.”

and now, somewhere between the gingerbread cookies and nanami’s impeccable charcuterie board, gojo had taken things to a whole new level of absurdity. he’d taped mistletoe — actually taped it — to his iconic black glasses and was prowling around the party like some deranged holiday predator.

“get back here, you coward!”

you darted behind the christmas tree, stifling a laugh as gojo nearly tripped over a box of ornaments. 

“you look ridiculous,” you called out, catching a glimpse of him through the branches.

“ridiculous?” he echoed, mockingly aghast. “this is genius. nanami even complimented me.”

“he called you a menace.”

“same thing.”

you rolled your eyes, trying to slip away unnoticed, but of course, the man had reflexes sharper than a hawk’s.

“aha!” he exclaimed, spotting you as you rounded the couch.

“satoru, don’t you dare —”

too late. with a burst of speed that defied his lanky frame, he cut you off, pressing you into a corner. his towering form blocked your escape entirely, and his smug grin told you he knew it.

“gotcha,” he said, the mistletoe on his glasses dangling obnoxiously close to your face.

“you’re insufferable,” you hissed, your heart racing — though whether it was from exertion or the way his intense gaze pinned you in place, you weren’t sure.

“and yet,” he murmured, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, “you’re not running anymore.”

you opened your mouth to retort, but the words died on your lips as his hands braced the wall on either side of you. he was so close you could see the flecks of icy blue in his eyes behind the mistletoe.

“you’ve been driving me crazy all night,” he said, his tone low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. “do you have any idea what you do to me?”

your breath hitched, the tension thick enough to drown in. “satoru,” you started, trying to regain some semblance of control, but he cut you off with a wry smirk.

“it’s tradition,” he murmured again, and before you could argue, his lips crashed into yours.

it wasn’t playful, like you’d expect — it was heated, overwhelming, and utterly consuming. his mouth moved against yours with a yearning that left you breathless, his tongue teasing yours in a way that sent sparks straight to your core.

your knees buckled slightly, but his hands were there instantly, gripping your hips to steady you as he pressed closer.

“damn, you taste better than the cookies,” he muttered against your lips, his voice breathless but teasing.

“you’re insane,” you managed to gasp, though your hands betrayed you by tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

“and you love it,” he shot back, kissing you again with a fervor that left you dizzy.

when he finally pulled back, both of you breathless and flushed, he adjusted his glasses with a satisfied grin.

“merry christmas to me,” he quipped, tapping the broken piece of tape still clinging to the mistletoe on his glasses.

you shoved his chest playfully, trying to ignore the way your heart was still racing. 

“you’re unbelievable.”

“and yet, you kissed me back,” he pointed out, his grin widening.

“shut up.”

“make me.”

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[dmercer91]

i would, lh43

you and luke really like to piss each other off.

or

four times you and luke almost kiss and the one time it finally happens

this is toxicity, angst and a little fluff all rolled into one. enjoy! <3 (7.6k) this is very much not proofread

one.

you were sure luke hughes was one of life’s greatest mysteries. to put it lightly, he was sweet until he wasn’t. 

you’d warned him before the two of you started dating in your shared freshman year that you’d been through a lot.

you warned him that sometimes you needed a minute alone, that sometimes you could self-destruct, and that sometimes you lost yourself in your brain and that someone else would take over for a while

he promised you that he’d work with you, that he understood what you were explaining and that he could surely handle it. 

he promised he’d do anything he could to help you get back into your head whenever you felt out of it, that he’d keep his head on straight for the both of you so that the two of you could work through rough stages.

clearly you hadn’t prepared him well enough, or clearly he overestimated his level headedness. 

it sucked for the both of you that you still had to see each other every day, regardless of whether or not he was on the road, cause you’d be there too. 

you’d been warned by every girl in every stage of life that dating in the workplace was a horrible idea. you promised them it was hardly work, you weren't even around that much. you were wrong again.

when the two of you broke up, you opted to stay with the team as the media intern. after all, you agreed to be friends. 

that went sour quickly, because all the arguing that took place in the confines of his dorm or your sisters apartment carried onto your friendship, and consequently in the halls of yost.

the more the two of you would argue, the more you both got petty. 

today was no different, and you weren’t trying to work him up on purpose, but when the opportunity arose you took it and ran.

a trend on tiktok had started, talking about red flags. the monday question you chose was something along the lines of ‘what is your weirdest / stupidest red flag’ 

most of the players responded as you expected them to - something like mixing jams on their toast or putting hot sauce on their bagels.

you weren’t even expecting him to acknowledge you, because since the breakup, luke had avoided monday questions, as well as your camera, altogether. 

you weren't sure what had pissed him off today, or what was going through his brain when he decided he was gonna be sour right off the bat, but his response was surely something.

“my ex girlfriend is an obsessive bitch,” you covered your mouth to keep yourself from laughing. you knew he was just being an asshole for the purpose of trying to get to you, but the words truly sounded unnatural coming from his mouth.

luke figured you would delete the video and move on with your day, get back at him with some mean comment another time, but instead you decided to take it a little further than he was intending.

after practice was over, you sat in the cubby a few down from his and began to edit the videos you’d taken of the boys together, and you saved it. then, you took the new video and added the clip of luke to the end, playing on full volume and repeating itself as you pretended to adjust the beginning to the previous clip of dylan running away.

the few guys that were left in the dressing room looked at eachother, and luke was already staring you down.

the rest of the team had learned to tune the two of you out. seeing as you were friends with most of them even before you dated luke, none of them chose sides and they all believed that eventually the two of you would get tired of pissing each other off and quit it. alternately, luke would just leave for jersey and peace would be restored. 

“what? why are you looking at me like that?” you mumbled defensively, eyeing him like he was a weirdo.

“you’re putting that in the actual video?” you raised an eyebrow, smile etched onto your face like it was drawn with a sharpie. what you weren’t expecting was for luke to take a deep breath, and look away.

you continued to edit the clip, up until the remaining players had all left yost and you felt luke’s eyes burning into your skull again.

he stood up calmly, and walked over to you.

you looked up at him and stood as well, slowly backing out of the doors in the dressing room. he followed, speeding up to keep you at an arms length

“delete that, y/n, i swear to god,” you realized he was trying to corner you, and though he physically outmatched you any day of the week, he was failing spectacularly at it.

you did your best at playing keep away with the umich media phone, and backed your way into the visitors dressing room.

“delete it? fat chance. i was actually thinking i might put it up, i can never seem to get content of you unless-“ you groaned as your back hit the wall, luke holding you against it with his hips

“unless i’m too pissed to shove the phone out of my face?” you grinned, slinging your arms around his neck and leaning into his touch, your chests pressed taught to each other so you couldn’t slip from his grasp.

“you know, if i get early onset back pain, i'm blaming you. now can we quit it with the dramatics? i have a very charming video of you to edit for the tiktok page” luke just pressed you closer to the wall, ignoring the grin you gave him to show how much you’d actually been liking the closeness.

“you wouldn’t,” he tried to grab the phone from your hands, placed behind his neck, but you were quick to tuck it into your bra so he couldn’t access it.

“i would.” his jaw clenched and you kept straight eye contact, loving how irritated he was getting so quickly.

“baby,” he stated, taking a deep breath.

“i was being a dick, and i’m sorry. but we don’t need to make that a public thing,” you bit your lip, pretending like you were contemplating it before you replied to him

“we’re using baby again?” he licked his lips, grabbing your hands from his shoulders and holding them.

his eyes softened and he paused before using what was probably the sweetest tone you’d ever gotten from him

“if you want me to use baby, yes, i’ll call you whatever you like”

“i’m not falling for that,” his soft, convincing face fell flat and his eyes went from hopeful right back to angry and endlessly frustrated

after a few moments standing there waiting for him to find a new game plan, you bit your lip and started messing with a few of his curls

“you ever miss me, lukey?” he pulled his head away from your hands, the gentle aspect of your touch giving him an unneeded reminder of  the fact that you could be a sweetheart, you were just choosing not to be

“not a chance in hell” you smiled to hide the pang in your chest, but he saw through you, holding the back of your head

“you’re always right here annoying me, hm? no time to miss you” he corrected, tracing circles on your scalp with his thumb. you poked your cheek with your tongue, looking down for a quick second before ultimately looking right back into his eyes, trying to read what he was thinking

this is what you assumed he was talking about when he used to always tell you he’d figure things out, that you’d always make up after a fight - that he’d look at you like this and see that you were struggling 

that he would feel what you were feeling for even just a split second and correct himself, even if he was lying, just to cover up the ache in your chest.

this, to you, was confirmation that he could read you like that. that he can see through any mask you put up and had truly just given up on you. 

he sighed, and you saw his eyes move to your lips, then back up to your eyes. he was leaning forward, and just like that, he was pulling away and clearing his throat.

“could you please delete the video for me? m’ sorry about how i spoke to you” your entire body felt cold without him against it, and you wished whatever thought in his mind that made him want to kiss you would’ve fucked off, so the two of you could’ve stayed pressed up against each other forever.

“i’m not that mean, lu. i’ll delete it” he smiled and ruffled your hair, walking away as quickly as possible.

it bears repeating; you were sure luke hughes was one of life’s greatest mysteries.

two

your favourite part about going to michigan, as well as being close with one of the sports teams, was the parties. 

you weren’t even sure how they pulled it off, but you couldn’t think of a single time you’d been invited to a umich party and didn’t have a night worth remembering (even if you could barely remember it).

tonight was no different, and it started with mark and ethan fighting over who got to be your partner in beer pong. 

you decided it would be a best of three challenge, and the loser was stuck with luke, who was notorious for only having aim once he was plastered enough to faint. the winner got to be with you, who had the ongoing win streak among the sophomores.

first was a game of rock paper scissors, that was promptly won by ethan, seeing as mark always went rock. 

he’d even mentioned before the challenge that he always lost since he always picked rock, so you’d told him to simply not pick rock - he did it anyways.

the second round was seeing who could shotgun the fastest, which was ultimately taken by mark when ethan got cocky and gave him a three second head start.

safe to say, mark had been almost done by the time ethan even had his lips over the hole in his can.

the third challenge was a headstand contest, mostly because you just wanted to see the two of them try to uphold a headstand for more than five seconds.

mark took that one on the guise that ethan had cheated and used the wall to keep himself up. if you could have made them both lose, you would have.

however, when you decided that ethan was in fact a cheater, mark cheered and tossed you over his shoulder, leading the group of you back to the beer pong table 

ethan was pouty about having to pair up with luke, and luke was pouty about having to be around you, but you and marks energies were off the charts regardless.

you all decided that you’d have to drink ethan’s cups, mark would have to drink luke’s, and vice versa.

luke started, and sunk one ball, but completely missed the other. 

mark quickly downed the drink and took the balls, missing the first off the rim of a bottom row cup, but sinking the second one perfectly. 

luke drank nonchalantly and handed the ball from his cup to ethan, who just barely missed both of his shots. you grinned to yourself, centring yourself to the table before taking your shot.

your turn was similar to marks, but your first ball had bounced just before the cup at the top row and landed into luke’s hand.

ethan drank the cup you got for your second shot, sending you a playful glare. 

“this should be you right now, marky. nobody said we couldn’t use the wall” you rolled your eyes, feeling mark sling his arm around your shoulders 

“i won fair and square, eddy. you’re just butthurt cause you suck at shotgunning and got too cocky” luke quickly took his turn so you’d all shut up, missing horribly on both shots.

you raised an eyebrow at him, silently wondering how his on ice hand eye coordination translated this horrendously in throwing a ping pong ball 

mark got two of his shots, but none in his balls back attempt, and luke quickly drank, a little more urgently this time around. 

ethan got one this time around, and you happily drank the contents of the cup, licking the foam of the beer from your lips once you were done. 

you also sunk two balls, but you got your second shot with balls back, leaving three cups on ethan and luke’s side and eight on yours.

ethan pouted before drinking his first cup, taking a short pause before cramming the next two one after the other. 

he caught his breath before looking over at you with beer dripping from his chin 

“i should’ve made hughesy drink your cups,” you giggled, and luke slapped him on the shoulder with a glare.

when the game came back around to you, they only had two cups left, and you got them both.

mark cheered loudly, rattling you around by your shoulders as you laughed at his reaction. 

you and mark had always been close. something about his energy just gave you the sense that you’d never have to stress about him. you were very much the ‘call each other babe platonically’ type of friends. 

he was easygoing and he just wanted to have a good time, but he was still a good friend if need be.

luke apparently hadn’t caught that memo, cause he looked like he was about ready to stab his teammate.

his jaw was clenched tight and he was just watching the two of you celebrate with complete dread on his face, while ethan finished off his beer

you picked up on it right away, and decided you’d chance luke being unbelievably pissed at you if it meant he might admit to himself he still had feelings for you.

“are we playing again?” you asked, looking up at mark who shook his head, pulling you away from the table.

“what? you want to get up to something else?” he grinned, earning a soft smile and a push to his chest.

“dance with me?” he nodded, grabbing one of the remaining cups from your side and pulling you towards the group of students essentially using the living room of soph house as a make out spot.

luke wasn’t one to dance, but mark was too drunk to care and you didn’t think he’d be leaving your side anytime soon, so you took advantage

he wasn’t half bad, the two of you mostly feeding off each other rather than the music. that was until his drink ran out, and he wanted another one.

“you want a beer, babe?” you nodded softly, tilting your head up and leaning it on his shoulder.

he smiled, kissing you on the cheek and noting that he’d be right back, quickly disappearing into the swarm of bodies towards one of the coolers.

“mark? really?” it was luke.

rather than bite back, you went with it, knowing he might be more annoyed if he thought you were genuinely going out with mark

you hummed, turning to face him. “he’s a sweetheart. maybe you could learn a thing or two” both of you knew that what you were saying was utter bullshit. regardless, luke was irked.

“are we thinking of the same mark?” he slid a finger into the belt loop of your jeans and pulled you forward, keeping you close to him and simultaneously letting you know his strength.

“handsome? fluffy hair? pretty solid with his mouth?” luke scoffed, looking behind you to make sure mark wasn’t almost back.

when his eyes came back down to yours they were dark, and he was wearing a harsh glare.

“you wouldn’t. you’re not” you smiled, almost giggling at him

“yeah, but i would, though. is your new girlfriend not at this party? thought i saw her working one of the football players. is this your thing? getting one upped by other athletes? is there an embarrassment kink im not aware of?”

before you could say anything else, his hand was over your mouth and he was grumbling at you to shut up

“not that it’s any of your business, i broke up with her. you need to start watching your fucking mouth” you pulled away from his hand, but he still had a tight grip on your jaw.

“if it was full maybe i’d stop talking,” you smiled, your facial expression almost challenging him

he licked his lips, thumb swiping over yours slightly in a way that made your heart jump out of your chest

he was leaning in and pulling your face to an angle where he could connect your lips, before his eyes flashed up and he saw mark coming back with a beer in one hand and a full bottle of liquor in the other.

“maybe your sweetheart mark will be up for that” he gave your jaw a squeeze before pushing your face away from his and walking off.

you put on a smile, turning around to see mark taking a swig of straight vodka.

“my lady,” he grinned, handing you your beer

you bit the cap off, drinking some of it before you hummed, pulling him towards you by the collar and resuming your dancing, back to his chest

“gimme some of that,” he giggled, putting the bottle in his hand up to your lips and guiding you through your swig

“luke came n’ saw you?” you nodded

“yeah.”

three

one of your favourite things to do in your free time was barge into soph house with absolutely no warning.

today, it was cause you and your other roommate had been momentarily kicked out of yours and your older sister's shared apartment so she had it to herself for her one year anniversary.

you announced your arrival when you walked in, your friend trailing behind you awkwardly while the boys shouted simultaneous greetings from the living room

“i brought a friend. it’s my sister's anniversary and there’s a metaphorical sock on our door,” your comment earned you chuckles from the group, and when you walked into the living room you scanned the furniture to see if there were two open spaces.

luke had been sitting by himself, mackie and dylan were sharing the loveseat, and ethan and mark were sharing the bigger couch. 

you tilted your head and squinted at ethan, who had been taking up two and a half cushions. he grinned in return, further stretching himself out so he’d been getting into marks personal space as well.

you opted to physically drag ethan from his spot, over so he’d just been taking up one cushion instead

he glared at you playfully, fighting back against your pushing until you were stuck pushing back against each other, causing the both of you to break out into laughter and for you to fall onto the couch

“scootch, edwards,” you worked out in between giggles, finally getting him to move over and sitting up yourself so there was some room for your friend 

when she sat, it was almost on top of you, since the couch wasn’t meant for four, and you could almost sense luke’s ears perking up like a dog being offered a treat

“you know if there’s not enough room over there i’m more than happy to share” he patted his lap, looking right at your roommate with a smirk playing at his lips.

you were quick to glare at him and shut the idea down, while mark pulled you into his own lap so your friend would have enough room, and hopefully so you and luke would drop it. 

your friend adjusted and then eyed luke, and then you

“i take it that’s luke,” you immediately slapped her arm and glared at her, knowing this would give luke enough ammunition to piss you off for however long you were at sophomore house 

you couldn’t even properly find time to warn him to forget he ever heard that before it started. 

“aw, baby, you tell your friends about me?” you smiled sarcastically, feeling mark grab the back of your shirt so you didn’t lunge at his teammate

“fuck right off, warren,” luke’s jaw ticked, and he opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by dylan 

“i’ll sit on your lap, lukey!” the group laughed, and luke tried to hide his smile. 

the sophomores had become extremely accustomed to changing the subject or interrupting you and luke when the two of you fought, seeing as you were over most days of the week

now that the room had become less tense, everyone was partaking in their own conversations.

you, ethan, mark and your friend had been talking about a class the four of you shared, while mackie, dylan and luke talked about the upcoming series against minnesota.

that continued until you felt your phone go off in your back pocket and pulled it out to see a text from your sister, telling you that you could make your way back to the apartment.

below it, to your shock, was a silenced text from luke.

from, luke hughes → kitchen?

to, luke hughes → ?

you looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed and heart pounding, and he was already looking at you.

you blinked and moved your eyes away, turning your head to mark who’d been deep in concentration listening to ethan.

“hey, my sister texted, we’re gonna get going” that caught the attention of dylan and ethan, which made mackie turn his head, and, well, luke had already been staring at you.

mark frowned, caging his arms around your waist to hug you. 

“it’s still early, you can stay,” you heard a jumble of voices agreeing with mark’s statement, and you could feel luke’s gaze burning through you.

you looked down at your roommate and she shrugged, since she’d accustomed pretty well to the sophomores already and wasn’t exactly dying to leave

“i’ll stay for free beer?” luke smiled to himself and made his way to the kitchen quietly, knowing nobody would really notice him while they were cheering at your words

you offered to go get everyone their bottles and got up, ruffling marks hair slightly before you walked over to their fridge and took out six beer, luke already sipping on one.

“you ask me over here to argue without getting interrupted?” luke grinned softly, taking three of the bottles and setting them on the island along with his own, nodding for you to do the same with the other three

you complied, and as soon as they hit the counter you were being backed up into it, his hips pinning you and his arms locking you in place 

“i just wanted to talk,” he explained, looking down at you with a sweet gaze that made your stomach turn 

“you know, you could’ve had mackie or duker sit on the other couch, fuck, you could’ve even pulled up a chair from the island or sat on the ground! but you just let him pull you into his lap like you're his?”

you rolled your eyes, trying to push his arm off the counter so you could squeeze away from him and bring everyone their drinks, but his grip tightened. 

“i’m talking to you, y/n,” he added pressure with his body so he could use a hand to make you look at him.

“how many times do i have to tell you i’m not sleeping with any of your friends?” you defended and he shrugged 

“i never said you were, i just pointed out that you two seem real fucking comfortable with each other lately,”

you sighed and cupped his neck with both hands, thumbs messing with the curls that fell behind his ears

“lu, nothings happening. nothing's going to happen. im not fucking mark just like you’re not actually gonna fuck my roommate,”

he didn’t react much, just kept staring into your eyes. 

“if not my friends then who are you with?” you smiled and shook your head 

“none of your business, hughesy.” he laughed dryly and moved his hand from your jaw around to the back of your neck, your faces so close his nose was brushing against yours.

your eyes both drifted to each other's lips, and you cleared your throat and backed your head away before he could kiss you. 

he moved off you and grabbed his beer, standing on the other side of the kitchen, now.

“maybe i’ll see you around your place, y/n,” he smirked before looking over at your roommate who was laughing at something dylan had said, and heading back to the living room 

“you wouldn’t,” you yelled after him.

“i would!” he called back, leaving you to groan to yourself and pick up the beers for everyone 

four

“adam! shea!” you smiled, trying to stand up off the bench you were on to go greet your friends, but tripping over the air and immediately deciding that you would be staying on the bench.

the two boys gave each other weird looks across the street from you, deciding to make their way over.

the two boys being luca and shea, who were obviously quite confused.

once they made their way there, they came to the conclusion that you were incredibly, extremely, outstandingly drunk.

“i want whatever she’s having,” luca chuckled, knowing he and his brother did not look alike in the slightest.

seamus slapped him up the back of the head, helping you to sit up properly and then taking his own place beside you to support your torso.

“dude, shut up. call mark, or eddy, even. we don’t know how long she’d been here” you were looking up at him, absolutely delirious and telling him about your childhood pet hamster that was named casey (like him!)

mark was down at the bus stop you were all sitting at in record time, now kneeling in front of you and trying to get an answer out of you as to why you were mind-blowingly wasted at two pm on a tuesday

when you just continued to murmur about nonsense, luca spoke up

“maybe we should bring her to luke?” seamus and mark both turned their heads to him very slowly, eyebrows raised and annoyance glaringly obvious in their eyes, and he lifted his arms in defence 

“i’m just saying! notice how all of their arguing is like, ultra petty? he never says anything that actually means shit. he definitely knows what's going on with her,”

they both thought about it, ultimately coming to the conclusion that it couldn’t do anymore harm than good - luke wasn’t a big enough dick to punch down, so maybe luca was right.

they looked at each other, “this is the worst idea anyone has ever had in the entire history of the university of michigan,” shea stated, already helping you onto your feet and having luca hold you up from the other side

“yeah,” mark nodded, texting luke a very vague message so that he’d be home and in the living room once the four of you got to soph house.

when you did, it was safe to say luke really did not want to have any part of it.

“no.” he shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest while he watched you fuss with seamus when he tried to set you on the wrong couch cushion, apparently. 

“wh-” mark tried to plead his case, but couldn’t even get a word out.

“no. not a chance, mark, just have her sleep it off, or something,” the two of them watched as luca brought you a water and you tried to convince him that you did have a water, only for him to open the lid and be hit with the smell of liquor. 

“hear me out,” mark started, giving luke a hopeful look and earning a confirming eye roll in return

“your friend needs help, and-” 

“your friend”

“fine, be like that! your ex, that you’re still in love with, by the way, needs help, and you’re the only one of us that has a chance in hell at knowing what it is that made her drink away her brain on a random fucking weekday, by herself, on the street,”

the room went silent, and even you had stopped rambling upon hearing the tone mark was using.

“so, if you could please just fucking talk to her for a minute to see if she gives you an idea? something? tells you what’s up? that would be glorious, luke,” 

luke clenched his jaw but looked over at you for a quick second, caving and nodding slightly 

“i’ll talk to her. alone, though,” he grumbled, and mark patted his shoulder, nodding to luca and seamus to go over to the kitchen 

he sat next to you, and you looked up at him, bringing your knees to your chest. 

“are you okay, y/n/n?” he asked softly, tilting his head at you. you blinked, clearly on the verge of blacking out

“luke,” you stated simply, earning a sad smile from him 

“what did i tell you about drinking to forget, hm?” he reached around you, burying his hand in your hair and massaging your scalp gently 

“said no,” you replied, barely above a whisper. you were hiding from his gaze, now.

he watched you for a moment, trying to see if there was anything on you to help him out. 

his eyebrows furrowed at the sight of your phone case, the polaroid that had been in the back of it since before he knew you now flipped so you couldn’t see what it was.

“can i see that?” he asked, pointing to your phone.

you handed it to him reluctantly, watching as he peeled the case off and slid the picture out from under it.

it was a picture of you and your father. you were just a baby, and your dad had been wearing a party hat and feeding you a bite of cake 

the back read; dads 31st birthday! 02/07/04

he turned your phone around and knocked his knuckle against the screen, reading the date once it lit up

tuesday, february 7

“oh, baby. cmere,” he mumbled, pulling you into his lap gently and holding your head to his chest.

your body shook against his as you sobbed, still painfully aware of the occasion no matter how inebriated you were

he held you still until you calmed down, and when he opened up the shield he’d made with his arms he found that you were sound asleep against him, face beet red and soaked with tears

he adjusted you slowly, lifting your arms around his shoulders so he could carry you without waking you up.

he looked over to mark who nodded with an appreciative smile, then carefully carried you upstairs and towards his room.

he set you down and took off your shoes, then grabbed a water bottle and some medicine for you, setting them down and slipping into bed next to you. 

you found your way to his chest and slept peacefully while he zoned out, brushing his hand through your hair soothingly.

when you did wake up, it was slowly and difficultly. it had been a few hours, your mouth felt dry and your head felt heavy.

you felt dizzy, but not from the hangover. from luke, holding you close to him.

you let out a noise of confusion, and luke stiffened, looking down at you.

rather than pay mind to the millions of emotions coursing through him, he decided to focus on sitting you up and getting you to drink some water.

you just listened, waiting to ask what the hell had happened until after you were feeling a little less undead.

“uh, luca and shea found you by one of the bus stops. you called luca adam, so they came up to you, n called mark” you looked down, tears brimming your eyes.

“oh.. okay,” you whispered, fidgeting with your own fingers awkwardly.

he gave you a minute to compose yourself before setting the polaroid on your lap 

“he would’ve been fifty today,” he stated softly, looking at where your eyes would have been had you been facing him.

you wiped your face roughly, groaning to yourself while luke silently begged you to look at him

“maybe we can take a little trip to go see him, yeah? i’ll stop at the store and we can get him a card n’ some flowers,” he offered, rubbing your upper back soothingly 

“you’d do that for me?”

“i would. or i can explain everything to mark, and he can take you, if you wanted?” you shook your head quickly 

“no. no, uh,” you sniffled, taking the water he’d gotten you from his night stand and sipping carefully from it 

“the whole reason i like being around him so much is that he doesn’t know everything, and he doesn’t need to know everything,” you explained, finally looking up at him with glossy eyes and a red nose

“i can zone out for a minute and he won’t ask me if i’m okay, he’ll just slap the back of my head and tell me i need a nap,” you chuckled 

you’d made it a point to keep the shitty aspects of your life away from mark. 

he knew you’d been through a lot, but he didn’t know any details and he never asked about it, respecting your boundaries 

“it’s easy around him, you know?” luke nodded slightly, a questioning look in his eyes 

“i wish it could’ve been that simple with you, but there are things that cant be kept from a partner the way they can from a friend, it’s different,” 

the two of you sat in silence for a minute, luke having opened the bottle of ibuprofen for you and handing you two to take 

once you sipped away the weird feeling in your throat with water, you gave him a hopeful look

“are you still up to take me?” he smiled sadly and nodded, slowly moving from his bed and over to his closet.

“here,” he handed you a hoodie and his varsity jacket, nodding in a way that told you to put them on. 

you stood carefully and put the sweater on, overwhelmed by the smell of him lingering on the collar 

the jacket was both too big on you but a perfect fit, the bottom landing a little above your knees and the sleeves covering up to the tips of your fingers 

you put your shoes back on and gave him a look before going over to the bathroom, scanning the counter until you found something that could suffice as a face wash 

you pulled your sleeves up and washed the mascara from your cheeks, then grabbed a clean towel to pat your face dry.

you went to go cup your hands under the cool water to drink before some mouthwash, but you spotted the toothbrush you kept here while you’d been dating luke in his corner of things 

your lips parted and you blinked, almost thinking it would go away once you opened your eyes again. 

when it didn’t, you took the cover off the top of it to find it in the same condition you left it, so you rinsed it well before using it. 

luke walked out of his shared room, now in a hoodie of his own, and froze when he saw you

you avoided his eyes, pulling your hair from your face while you spat out the toothpaste and then rinsed your mouth with water. 

you pulled your sleeves back down and walked over to where he was waiting on the stairs, flicking the light off and keeping your head down 

“i, uh, just kept forgetting to toss it,” he cleared his throat, eyes flashing over to you and quickly moving away

you just nodded, making your way down the stairs and seeing the three boys who had brought you home playing video games on the couch

shea was the first to notice you, smiling to himself at the sight of you drowning in luke’s clothes.

he nudged marks knee with his own to grab his attention, nodding over to you and luke who’d been awkwardly standing there

mark looked up and grinned at you, setting his controller down and getting up to trap you in a bear hug

“how’s the head, dumbass,” you smiled bashfully, resting your face against his chest and hugging him back 

“throbbing. thanks for coming to get me,” he hummed in response, ruffling your hair and moving away from you 

“you’re bringing her home?” mark asked, eyes directed at luke

he looked at you and you answered for him

“we’re going on a little road trip. be back in a few hours,” mark tried his best not to let glee take over his face too obviously.

he sent luke a knowing look, a callback to their earlier conversation where mark had outright exposed him for still being in love with you

you smiled and waved to shea and luca, who returned the favour, luca yelling after you as you walked away with a “you kids have fun! wear protection!” which earned him a slap on the head from seamus. 

the drive to the grocery store was quiet, luke’s bluetooth playing quietly through the speakers of his car and you humming along to some of the songs you knew.

the two of you opted to grab something to eat from the deli as well, and luke offered to pay for both the meals and the card and flowers you’d gotten for your dad.

you were reluctant, but he had blocked you away from the debit machine when it was presented to you, so you settled for slipping a twenty into the pocket of his jacket so he’d get it whenever you took it off and gave it back.

you weren’t opposed to the silence, but sharing it with luke did make it a little more uncomfortable than it should’ve been.

you were dreadfully aware that the two of you did need to have a good talk, and work out whatever it was that had torn your friendship to bits after the breakup, but maybe that's better off happening later on.

when he pulled into the parking lot at the cemetery your dad had been buried at, you looked over at him before getting out

“thank you for doing this for me, lu,” he nodded sweetly, mumbling a soft “of course, baby,” in response

your heart fluttered at his tone, as well as the genuine use of ‘baby’, and you gave him a close-lipped smile before opening the door to his car and grabbing your things, waiting for him to get out with you.

the two of you walked to your dads headstone, sitting on the grass by it and laying the flowers and the card.

“if you want a minute by yourself, i can-” you grabbed his hand before he could move to stand up, shaking your head and looking up at him with teary eyes 

“just, stay,” you breathed out, and he nodded, wrapping his free arm around you and squeezing the hand that he’d been holding 

you cried silently, staring at the stone with tears streaming down your face, leaving lines of red from the irritated skin.

you felt luke start to gently brush his thumb along your knuckles, and you grimaced to yourself, looking down into your lap to try and keep yourself together 

luke frowned, pulling you into his lap and cradling your head, one hand still holding yours 

you took a deep breath, torso shaking as you squeezed his hand like you’d been getting your first tattoo.

when you looked up at him, you saw the luke you knew at the beginning of your relationship, and not the one you constantly bickered with. 

he pushed his nose next to yours, lips nearly brushing against each others, but he waited for you to initiate it. 

instead, you pulled away and tried to move away from his hug, heart aching in your chest and guilt taking over your head 

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, opting to lean your head into his neck since he hadn’t loosened his grip. 

“no, it’s.. it’s okay, y/n,” he sounded unsure, but the words eased your mind nonetheless 

“i can’t go through what we did again, i can’t keep going in that circle, luke, we suck for each other,” you explained, pulling your hand from his and beginning to mess with the sleeves of his jacket 

“i can be better at that, y/n/n, i want to help,” you shook your head, finally managing to move off him 

“you said that last time, and you lied. i don’t blame you, luke, i was shitty too. but i think we’re better off as friends,”

he pursed his lips, nodding. he knew you were right. 

+ one

“have you ever been to an nhl game before?” ellen asked, getting soup ready for quinn, who was recovering on the couch. 

“uh, no, and i hardly had time to pay attention to any of the wolverines games, i was always editing,” you chuckled awkwardly, knowing your knowledge of crowds at sporting events was very limited and you’d likely be caught sitting with jim looking incredibly confused. 

you knew you would feel out of place, especially at a playoff game. 

luke wasn't even aware that you were in new jersey, let alone that you’d be in attendance to his first playoff game.

you had finals and things to do for the team’s media page during his first nhl games, and though you weren’t dating, you knew he wanted you there for them due to the devils jersey he had sent you after he signed his contract.

not only did you still have things to do in ann arbor, but you definitely could not afford a place to stay or plane tickets to new jersey.

then, ellen had messaged you with the news that she’d be stuck babying quinn for the next while, and offered you her ticket to the game along with help for your plane tickets.

truly, it was the least she could do, as her son hadn’t shut up about you since the moment she got to newark, and she could no longer stand hearing him complain about how much he missed you, only to correct everyone when they referred to you as his girlfriend.

the game could not have been anymore hectic. it ended 8-4 devils, but with four combined short handed goals, the canes rookie goalie being subbed in, and luke getting two points.

the rock was loud, but the energy felt less overwhelming over time and you got used to the cheers and yelling eventually.

you went with jim to wait for jack and luke, neither of which were expecting you.

jack came out first, and completely neglected his father as he greeted you with a hug, asking how you’d been and when you got to town.

you were still hugging when luke made his way out, eyebrows furrowing at the sight of a pair of arms around his brother’s waist.

when he got close enough to see that it was you, you were promptly pulled away from jack and lifted into luke’s arms, feet a few inches off the ground from how tightly he’d been hugging onto you.

“oh, jesus. hi, lukey,” you giggled, squeezing him back just as tight. you hadn’t been wearing the jersey, knowing the broadcasts had a tendency to pan to jim up in the stands and not wanting to make a big deal out of it

“how long have you been in jersey? how did you get here? where did you get the ticket, y/n, what the fuck” he rambled, a big smile etched onto his face during the whole ordeal.

he set you down but kept his arms around you, rocking the two of you back and forth while his older brother and dad watched in amusement.

your face went completely serious, and you tried to keep it that way as you spoke “oh, well, i came down to help with quinn after his tonsils and your mom offered me her ticket,” luke shook his head, ruffling your hair and holding your head to his chest 

“i hate you,” he mumbled as you laughed against him.

“no, you don’t” you pulled back a few inches, grabbing his wrist and leading him to the exit jack and jim had already started making their way to.

“no, i don’t,” he pulled back on your wrist, bringing you back into his chest so the two of you were looking at each other.

he lowered his face and kissed you, and for how long overdue it was, he was very tame.

it was gentle, and slow, and he’d been gliding his hands up and down your hips soothingly. your hands came up behind his neck to mess with the hair at its nape and you pulled away for air, but went right back in.

when the two of you finally pulled away completely, luke was blushing madly and you were hiding away in his neck.

“that’s.. certainly one way to prove it,” you breathed out, chuckling slightly.

“can i prove it some more on the way home?” he raised an eyebrow, tilting your head back up to face him.

“with your brother driving us? you wouldn’t,” he grinned, shaking his head.

“i would. you underestimate how long i’ve been waiting for that,”

[qveerthe0ry]

Conquer the Heart

Summary: Joel comes out - written for @romanarose Pride Event Week 1: Coming Out Word Count: 3,981 Pairing: Joel Miller x M! Reader Rating: Mature (but my blog is 18+ mdni) Warnings: vague descriptions of sex, fluff, kissing, conversations about sexuality, really that's it this is pretty much just sweet and fluffy with a tiny hint of spice Betas: @for-a-longlongtime and @perotovar who could have guessed? Love y'all <3 A/N: I just wanted to make Joel queer idk. Title from an Orville Peck song because of course

You don’t know what possessed you to pay the $5 cover to check that place out. The Round-Up Saloon, perched on a street corner in downtown Austin. The outside was unassuming enough, but the neon lights and mechanical bull and rotating dance floor inside made it look like something straight out of Urban Cowboy. 

There were all kinds of crowds. College kids and business casuals and actual cowboys. And it’s Austin, so all the sexualities were represented in one way or another as you took note of the couples at tables and on the dance floor. You couldn’t really care about any of them, though, as soon as you laid eyes on him. 

You were drawn to him and his broad shoulders and tight Wrangler blue jeans. 

He was with a big group of women and men, all drinking and laughing and taking turns line-dancing with each other on the dance floor. 

And to think you only stumbled into the honky tonk cowboy bar out of curiosity… It certainly wasn’t your scene. 

But you’d watched Joel dance with a few women with respectful hand placement, and then he danced with a man, and hope had bubbled up inside of you to the sound of Alan Jackson. 

He was a little sweaty when you worked up the courage to talk to him, and his cologne masked all the alcohol and cigarettes in the air.

You plastered on a flirty smile and asked him if he could teach you some of his moves. When he looked taken aback and flustered, you backtracked. 

“I’m sorry, I saw you dancing with that guy— I didn’t mean to assume.” 

“Tommy? That’s my brother,” he’d explained, a little flushed in the face. 

“Oh! Shit, sorry, ignore me.”

But he’d caught your arm as you turned to hibernate for approximately 5-10 business days. 

“I don’t see no harm in teachin’ you.”

And so he did. And it was fun, and his hands on you were so warm you swear they branded his mark all over your skin. 

A few songs, all background noise to the ‘he’s just straight, don’t do this’ mantra in your head, and he was leading you off the dance floor for another beer. 

A friendly beer. Surely that’s all it was. 

But he was so friendly. He gave you pointers on how to dance, and then asked if you’re from around here, and then he was waving off his group of friends when they all announced their departure. 

He asked you about your job, and you asked about his, and then the way his hands felt rough on the skin of your arm made more sense. 

Maybe you were crazy, or the two beers you had were really getting to your head, but there was something so unspeakably electric between you. You felt it when he’d lean in closer to hear you, the way he touched your arm with the back of his bottle-filled fist, the way his hoppy breath ghosted across your cheek to reach your ear.

And then he said he should probably get home, and asked if he should walk you to your car, and maybe he wasn’t straight, you thought, as he briefly placed his hand on your back to guide you through the packed bar. 

And you really, really shouldn’t have. But you asked for his number, and he put it in your shitty flip phone, and then you kissed him. 

Right on the mouth. A quick peck that was so short you could’ve nearly pretended it was an accident. 

He looked so stunned, and guilt boiled up in your stomach. 

But he’d grabbed your wrist gently, and looked you in the eyes. 

“I’m uh… I don’t… I haven’t ever done that.” 

“That was your first kiss?” 

It was a joke, and thank god he laughed. His smile looked so fucking good under the shitty, flickering street lamps. 

“Call me, okay?” 

And then he was gone. You thought about him the whole drive home, while you got undressed and ready for bed, as you fell asleep. You felt his touch in your dreams, and when you woke in the morning you could hardly believe he was real. 

But his phone number was burning a hole in your cell phone. You stared at it on and off all Saturday long. What would you even say? Why did he even want you to call him, if he’d never even kissed a guy before? Did he just want a new drinking buddy? 

The dread built up all day long, until it was late, and a sense of now or never goaded you into calling his number. 

He answered, and you told him who you were, and he’d sounded so surprised to hear from you. He didn’t think you’d want to see him again, after he embarrassed himself, and his admission made you balk. 

You told him you were the one who felt embarrassed. He laughed at that. Said he’s a lot smoother with ladies, but you made him feel nervous. He said he wanted to meet up again. 

And so you did. 

Just a shitty diner for an early dinner on Sunday, unassuming enough. The chemistry you felt at the bar hadn’t faded. If anything, it was so much more apparent now. The way he blushed when you flirted seemed less like the bad kind of gay panic. His foot kept nudging yours under the table. 

He walked you to your car again, and then he kissed you, much less chaste than the night at the bar, with one big, rough hand on your neck and the other on your hip. 

“That was pretty good for only your second kiss,” you’d said. 

He shrugged, a sheepish smile gracing his heated face.

“Should stick around and find out about the third.” 

And if you hadn’t already been wrapped around his finger, he certainly secured the spot for you then.

He wasn’t new to dating, but he was new to this, and it showed. He got pretty easily flustered around you. On your second date, he brought up his daughter for the first time like he’d forgotten he hadn’t mentioned her before. A casual thing, talking about her getting ready to graduate high school. 

“Does Sarah know… who you’re on a date with?”

Joel shook his head. 

“Not yet. No one does… Not even sure how to explain it to myself, if I’m honest.”

You were patient with him. It’s gotta be culture shock, living nearly 40 years of your life completely straight and having some random guy at a bar change that for you overnight. 

You took things slow. You talked a lot over the phone, after Sarah went to sleep. He told you about his dating history, Sarah’s mom and only a few unserious flings after. You tried not to psychoanalyze him, but it makes a little bit of sense. Getting some girl pregnant at 19, marrying her, getting ditched with a toddler and a curt ‘good luck’ and then raising her on your own? 

No wonder he never questioned his sexuality. There was genuinely no time to. 

At first, you thought you may just be a stepping stone. A news flash for him, an experiment, something fun for a season. It didn’t bother you. It’s happened before. But as your nightly talks got longer, and as you took each other out more and more often, it became clear that it wasn’t like that. 

You watched with fascination and adoration as Joel figured things out. It was so endearing when he asked if he should hold the door open for you, or if you should take turns. Likewise, when he held your hand in public for the first time, the way he asked your permission made your heart grow way too big for your rib cage.

Things weren’t perfect, of course, but nothing ever is. You didn’t get to see him as much as you ideally would. You were both busy during the work week, and he often had father duties on the weekends. Most of your dates were quick dinner bites when Sarah had a school thing, or an odd Saturday here or there when Sarah had a sleepover. 

But that was quite enough for you. You weren’t even looking for something when you’d met him. You didn’t feel the need to move quickly when you hadn’t planned on going anywhere in the first place. 

And he was sweet, and quite self-aware. 

“Wish we could spend more time together,” he’d tell you over the phone, “I know this ain’t the way things normally go.” 

But you liked him. So much. So it didn’t bother you.

And, as the weeks passed by, he opened up more. He started asking you more pointed questions, like how you came out to those closest to, and what it was like. He asked if you were seeing other people— it’s okay if you are, was just wonderin’— and then he asked you if you wanted to be together when you made it clear you weren’t. 

“Like… as boyfriend and boyfriend?” 

He chuckled, the deep gravel a familiar tone swimming through your landline with a nervous twinge to it. 

“Yeah, as boyfriend and boyfriend.” 

And he treated you right, and you got along with him so well, and he was so put together and responsible and respectful. 

“I’d really like to be your boyfriend.” 

And his breath had hitched so loud it was caught by the receiver, but you could hear the smile in his voice when he told you that he’d really like that, too. 

A few days after that, he told you Sarah would be gone all weekend, on a team trip for some hiking and kayaking and bonding. 

“Could I stay at yours? I hate to invite myself, it’s just— Tommy’s got no boundaries. Wouldn’t want him bargin’ in, y’know, before I get to tell him.” 

You didn’t mind one bit, aside from the mountain of laundry you had to fold in preparation for his arrival. 

It was the first time you’d been truly alone with him. Your dates were always public, at least somewhat. And he’d kissed you, a ton, but that’s as far as it had ever gone. 

You definitely wanted him. You’d wanted him since the very second you laid eyes on him at that cheesy honky tonk bar. But it was funny how nervous you were, even though your experience with men put Joel’s to shame. 

It was a lot like high school, in the way you danced around each other at first. A movie on your couch, with his arm draped along the back of it. Readjusting to ‘get comfy,’ inching, until the warmth of his body was pressed against yours and his arm dropped from the back of the couch to your shoulders. 

His heartbeat was deafening, hard and fast, when you’d tucked your head against his chest. You moved your hand to his knee in the world’s most intense match of The Nervous Game and feared for his cardiovascular health. 

He said your name, and like it was the magic word, every single facade crumbled around you in an instant. 

His kisses made your head spin, and the way his thick thighs felt under your own was addictive, and it was over before either of you realized it had started. Two sets of soiled pants and underwear thrown into your washing machine, along with the last of the pretenses. And then you’d dragged him to your bed. 

The sex wasn’t even your favorite part. The best was the morning after, and how you were plastered to his back as you woke up slow and easy. The way he held your arm to his stomach, even in his sleep. And the way you only got out of bed for food or bathroom breaks, a whole day with him, alone, uninterrupted. 

Just as you started to worry that this was a one-time thing, at least for a while, Joel huffed beside you and nuzzled his head into your shoulder. 

“I wanna come out. At least to Tommy ‘n Sarah. S’not right, keeping you a secret like this when you’ve been makin’ me so happy. I know you’d make them happy too.” 

You stroked his hair, and asked if he was sure, and though his pretty brown eyes looked wide and scared, his jaw was set with a determined nod. 

So you devised a plan. Or— Joel devised it, and asked for your input, and it all made you a bit giddy. 

He had you over for dinner. Just as a friend, at first. He’d ordered pizza and stocked beer and told Tommy and Sarah he was having a friend over. 

You wondered if Tommy would recognize you from the bar, but if he did, he didn’t show it. He just talked your ear off about Texas sports and old cars.

Sarah was… well, you understood why Joel could never seem to smile wide enough when he talked about her. She was so smart, and kind-hearted, and funny. You had a hard time keeping up, but the way Joel and Tommy were around her, you think she probably has that effect on most people. 

It was a nice night, fun and easy conversation, good pizza, and a very competitive game of Boggle in which Sarah dominated. 

And it was only a little bit difficult to spend the evening as just Joel’s friend, solely because of how easily you fit into his life. You wanted to scream it from the rooftops, that Joel wanted you to be a piece in his puzzle. 

Sarah, so politely, excused herself to go to bed as it got later. The three of you left shuffled around, gathering game pieces and paper plates and empty cans, until you all eventually met back in the kitchen. Joel gave you a look, and you gave him a comforting smile right back, and it was like the room’s air was replaced with water as he spoke up.

“Tommy?”

“Mmhmm?” 

The younger brother whipped around to face you both, sliding the leftovers into the fridge with a slice in his mouth. 

“I uh… I wanted to let you know that I’m— that we’re, uh… Together?”

You watched as his dark eyes glazed over for a second, brow scrunched up in confusion. And then his gaze flickered from you to him, and back to you, and his eyes grew as big as saucers. 

“No kiddin’?”

Joel laughed. 

“Serious. He’s my… He’s my boyfriend.” 

Tommy swallowed his mouthful of pizza, wiped his mustache, and smiled. A genuine smile, sweet and warm, reaching his eyes. 

“Hermano, good for you. That’s— I’m happy for you.” 

He opened his arms and tugged Joel into a hug, and Joel grumbled something about Tommy getting pizza grease on his clothes, but he was smiling wide and relieved over Tommy’s shoulder. 

But then Joel’s face got serious again as Tommy pulled away with a manly slap to his shoulder. 

“Sarah doesn’t know yet. I wanted to make sure everyone got along first, y’know?” 

And then Tommy was looking at you and rolling his eyes and chuckling. 

“Think we all get along just fine. You should tell her soon.”

And Joel knew Tommy was right, but it didn’t stop him from looking so anxious when Tommy left with another round of goodbye hugs. 

“What are you most worried about?” 

You asked him because you knew there were many things to fret over, in his situation. 

“Just that… She’s had this idea of me this whole time, y’know? What if she sees me different, and then things change between us?” 

And god, that made your throat feel thick, and Joel’s eyes got a little misty, so you pulled him tight against you and let him sag into your hold.

“I know the feeling,” you told him, “but I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

“No?”

You huffed a laugh and tangled your fingers in the curls at the back of his neck. 

“You mean everything to her. I can tell just by how she looks at you. Never seen a teenager like their dad that much.” 

And he laughed too, a little wet against your shoulder. 

“Will you be there with me when I tell her? I don’t— I don’t think I can do it alone.”

Your lips found his bristly cheek and planted a kiss there, and you mumbled of course into the salty skin.

So you went home, with plans to come back the next day. This wasn’t easy for you, either, dating a guy with a kid for the first time. You knew she liked you, at least, but that was a face value assessment. Would she mind you taking up more of her dad’s time? Would she mind you in their space every so often? Would she mind if you came around to her soccer games or science fairs or graduation, as her dad’s boyfriend, in front of all the other kids with nuclear families? Would she resent you for shaking up what they had?

You didn’t get much sleep, thinking about it. You wondered if you should bring her some kind of gift, flowers or a trinket or something, but then you’d be trying too hard, right? 

As you got ready the next morning, you thought about all the ways it could go wrong, but none of them really seemed realistic. Sarah was sweet, and intelligent, and surely if she did have reservations, they’d be able to talk them through civilly. 

Right?

You couldn’t even listen to music on your way to their house. It was a silent fifteen minute drive with your nerves boiling over and spilling out, thinking of how awkward things could get. 

But all of that kind of fell to the wayside when Sarah answered the door and said “I haven’t seen you in forever” with a cheeky grin and those bright eyes she definitely got from Joel. 

It felt cozy when you sat down at their kitchen table while they sipped their coffee and orange juice and Sarah told you both all about the English project she was working on. It put you at ease to ask her questions about things you have in common, and for all of you to mesh so well into a normal conversation.

But as it lulled, you noticed Joel getting restless, and you noticed Sarah noticing his uneasiness. 

“Dad, you’re acting weird in front of our company.” 

And while she was alway kind and respectful, she was still a teenager with a dorky dad. 

“Well… I wanted to talk to you about somethin’.”

She looked at him with her head tilted and her eyebrow raised. 

“Now?”

She nodded her head toward you as she asked, and you couldn’t blame her for being confused as to why he had to have a heart-to-heart with his ‘friend’ visiting. 

“Yeah um… You know how you’re always tellin’ me I should get a life and start datin’?”

Sarah laughed and looked at you.

“Yeah, could you be his wingman? It’s getting sad.” 

And you laughed, and Joel laughed, but it was a little forced, and Sarah’s smart, so you could read the confusion on her face. 

“What’s this about, dad?”

Joel took a big, deep breath and took Sarah’s hand on the table. You watched her squeeze his fingers as her face twisted up in worry. 

“He’s my— we’re dating. He’s my… boyfriend.” 

The worry dissipated, and her eyes got wide and her lips pursed before her jaw slowly dropped with surprise. 

“You guys are together?” 

She looked over to you, then, and all you could do was give her a soft smile and nod. 

“I know you might have some questions—”

“How long? When did you guys meet?” 

She looked back to Joel to answer, but you could see he was still reeling, with sweat saturating the curls at his temples. 

“Just a couple months ago, he taught me how to dance to the Boot Scootin’ Boogie.”

She made a noise, like a scoff, and it made you wince.

“Months!? Dad, why didn’t you tell me?” 

You watched Joel’s eyes cloud with— fear? You’d never seen him look so scared. 

“I’m sorry, babygirl. I just— I guess I didn’t know how. At first.” 

His voice trembled, and you watched Sarah’s lip quiver before she shot out of her chair and lunged toward her dad, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. 

“I love you,” she’d mumbled, like she knew it was what he needed to hear, because his shoulders slumped and his arms wrapped around her back. 

You thought maybe you should look away. It felt real personal. But Joel had asked you to be here, and it was about you, too, as much as that fact made you want to burrow underground. 

“You could have told me sooner. I love boy talk.”

Her voice was muffled and heavy with tears, but Joel chuckled all the same through his own misty gaze. 

“I didn’t know you liked boys.” 

She pulled away but didn’t go far, letting her hands squeeze his biceps as she looked to him for an answer. 

“Me neither,” he shrugged, “I like this boy, though. A lot.” 

And he got this goofy smile on his face, even though it was a little wet, and he looked at you, and you felt so awkward but so head over heels. 

“Okay, well, you still should have told me. I would’ve been on the porch cleaning Uncle Tommy’s shotgun when he pulled up.” 

Joel groaned and covered his face but you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up out of you. 

“What are your intentions with my father?”

And though her tone was joking, her eyes grew soft as she waited for an answer. 

“I guess I just wanna make him happy. Because he makes me happy. If that’s alright with you?” 

She sat back down and rested her chin in her hand, with her lips pursed again as she thought. 

“Sarah, you can have time to think—”

“Deal.” 

She extended her hand out to you from across the table, and you took it eagerly to shake on it. But after an appropriate amount of handshake time, she didn’t let your hand go. 

“You have to come over for movie nights now.” 

“I can do that.”

“And I have to make sure your taste in movies doesn’t suck before I let you pick one.”

“That’s fair.”

“ALSO—“

“Sarah,” Joel interrupted, “this isn’t how deals work. You can’t add stuff while he’s still shaking your hand.” 

“As I was saying,” Sarah rolled her eyes, squeezing your hand tighter, “you have to treat him right. He acts all tough but he’s just a softy.”

“Oh Christ,” Joel huffed. 

“No, she has a point,” you told him with a smirk, “I promise I will, Sarah.”

Her eyes narrowed at you, but then she grinned, and finally let go of your hand. 

So yeah, you really really like Joel Miller. You’re never happier than you are when you spend the evening at his house, snuggled up on one side of him while Sarah’s snuggled up to the other, watching some movie Sarah’s usually the one to pick. 

Or when you meet him and Tommy at Sarah’s soccer game, and he greets you with a smile and lifts the bill of your Miller Contracting hat you’ve stolen to peck your lips. 

Or when you’re in your own kitchen, making his coffee, and you feel sleepy arms wrap around your waist and a sleep warm kiss at the nape of your neck. 

Really, as long as you’re with Joel, you’re the happiest you’ve ever been. And if those three little words slip out one day soon, well, there isn’t a single thing that makes you think Joel would be surprised by them.

[shellshocklove]

conversation | peter parker

pairing: college!peter parker x college!female!reader

summary: peter parker is in the friendzone. and it sucks. especially when the girl he’s in love with is dating his best friend. smack dab in the middle of a bad situation peter struggles to keep his feelings at bay when the girl of his dreams comes to him for advice about her failing relationship.

warnings: i guess post!nwh, swearing, cheating, peter pining for reader, everyone being a bad guy, smut 18+ (minors dni!!!), unprotected sex, creampie

word count: 4.1k

a/n: um my first peter fic! it’s based on the song conversation by joni mitchell. listen to it, or don’t, i’m not your mother. i said i was going to stop posting writing, but i have “i must create or i’ll go crazy” disease so... (i’m still not a writer)

main masterlist / ao3

She comes to him for conversation, for comfort, for consultation. But Peter wished she came to him for something else.

He remembers the first time he saw you. How he’d thought his heart had stopped for a second, forgetting how to do its most basic function. How could someone look so effortlessly beautiful? How could a voice sound so sweet while asking such a mundane question?

“Is this seat taken?”.

“N-n-no!” he’d manage to stutter out, his cheeks flushed red and completely taken aback by the fact that you were talking to him. You’d given him a playful smile before seating yourself next to him.

Did he believe in love at first sight? Yes, after seeing you for the first time, Peter started to think he did.

Meeting you in a chemistry class, Peter thought, must be the universe’s take on a bad joke, because… you two had chemistry. Everything just felt so easy when he hung out with you. His smile always wide, cheeks hurting. Conversation flowing freely, or engulfed in a silence, that was always comfortable. The only thing though, even though you two had chemistry, you weren’t any good at it. Actually, you were barely passing.

And that’s how your time began. Sharing sodas after class, in a rundown diner, over chemistry homework. You’d seen how Peter had gotten straight A’s on all his tests, and one day you’d carefully asked if he would be so kind as to help you. Those were the actual words you’d used. If Peter would be so kind. As if he wouldn’t have done anything you’d ask without a second thought. Okay, maybe not anything. He doesn’t think he’d murder someone if you asked… or maybe… if you were in danger and it was the only way–

“Peter!” you laughed, waving your hand in front of his face, “Are you even listening to me?”.

“Huh!?” he hummed, a familiar warmth spreading through his cheeks as your laugh rang through his ears.

“You zoned out a little,” you said, scrunching up your nose. Oh god he loved when you did that– you looked so cute.

“Oh! S-sorry” he stuttered out, still embarrassed that you’d caught him daydreaming, “What were you saying?”.

“Ehm… just forget it” you looked away, waving your hand, “It was just something Harry did again”.

His name coming from your mouth felt like a bucket of ice-cold water over Peter’s head. Harry Osborn, your boyfriend, and Peter’s roommate.

As much as Peter loved Harry, he didn’t treat you well. This was usually how your conversations during your study dates would go, once it was clear that after a few hours of studying, you were done with chemistry for the day.

You’d usually bring up small things that Harry had done that hurt you or annoyed you. And Peter would be tasked with giving you advice, or comfort, or consolation. You always apologized after, for bringing Harry up in conversation, but Peter always brushed it off telling you it was fine. But it wasn’t. It always reminded him about his own failures. How if he hadn’t been such a pussy at Betty’s party, all those months ago, and told you how he felt, this wouldn’t just be a study date, but a real date. The problem was just that Harry had beat him to it that night. In Harry’s defense, he didn’t know about Peter’s feelings about you. No one did.

You’d disappeared at some point in the night, and Peter figured you’d gone home. Turns out you did go home, but not to your own apartment, but to Peter’s and Harry’s instead. A fact Peter didn’t know until the morning after when he’d bumped into you in the kitchen, his heart dropping to his stomach at the sight of you in nothing but Harry’s shirt.

Peter’s dreams weren’t completely crushed at that moment. He still harbored hope for you. Harry was quite the whore (Harry’s own words by the way, not Peter’s), and this wasn’t the first time Peter ran into one of his hook-ups in the kitchen after a night out. In Peter’s mind this was only a one-night stand. But he couldn’t have been more wrong. Not soon after, you started showing up at the penthouse, not to hang out with Peter, but with Harry instead.

Peter tried his best to not be disappointed when you came over. But the tiny spark of hope he had about one day calling you his, soon fizzled out and died. Every time he saw you and Harry kissing, holding hands; he knew nothing would ever happen between the two of you.

Trying to forget you, he started busying himself with classes and patrol, seeing you less and less. He’d run into you sometimes when you were visiting Harry. Only a short “Hello” leaving Peter’s lips as he’d retire to his room before Harry could see how much Peter wanted you.

Back in his room, Peter would convince himself that you and Harry being together was the best thing for you. If you were with Peter, he’d only end up hurting you. You deserve the very best, and Peter knew he would never be good enough. He was a fucking mess most of the time. He was always late to things, never on time, he couldn’t afford to treat you to nice things like Harry did, and his double life could make you a target, which was the last thing he wanted.

Peter kept his distance the best he could, but as time went on it got harder and harder to convince himself that Harry treated you the way Peter thought you deserved. Peter knew Harry wasn’t being honest with you, and it killed him to keep his mouth shut. The bubbling anger simmering under the surface every time he’d see a girl who wasn’t you, slip out of Harry’s bedroom. Then like a curse, a few moments later, his enhanced hearing enabled him to eavesdrop on yours’ and Harry’s conversations on the phone. Harry would always apologize for being too busy to come over and hang out. And with the softest voice, you’d let Harry off the hook every time. Leaving the penthouse, to go on patrol after nights like that, Peter admitted, his punches hit a little harder.

Your relationship tasted especially bitter in Peter’s mouth whenever Harry would throw parties at the penthouse. A hand over your shoulder or around your waist, never leaving your side, showing you off like you were a prized possession and not a human being. Was this the final straw for Peter? Seeing yet another way Harry didn’t treat you as well as he should; that had made him not want to make up an excuse, like he normally would, when you’d ask him if he wanted to study at the diner.

Peter had kept his distance from you for the last six months. Tried to stay in his lane. To turn the other eye. To fold his feelings for you in on itself like a piece of paper so many times he hoped they’d disappear. But one look at you again, sitting across from him at your regular booth at the diner, and his origami-ed feelings had sprung up again like a blooming flower in spring.

“I just really wanted to see him, you know? I’ve been so stressed about this chemistry exam– that I know I’m gonna fail by the way, and work’s been kicking my ass– and I just wanted to hang out with my boyfriend… but he canceled on me three times this week”.

Or maybe the final straw, for Peter, was the way your whole body deflated in front of him. Peter could feel his heart break in real time watching you turn your head away, hiding the wobble of your bottom lip. And the worst part of it all was that Peter knew why Harry had canceled on you. He’d been over at someone else’s place. But Peter knew he couldn’t tell you that.

Carefully he reached out his hand, brushing it over the back of yours as you rested it on the table. “I’m sure Harry’s just been busy! I know he’s got his exams in a few weeks, and he hasn’t been home as much lately” Peter said, trying his best to make you feel better.

You watched your hands for a moment, how Peter brushed his hand over yours trying to sooth you the best he could. Then you turned your hand, wrapping it around his in a gentle hold. The soft touch of your warm hand, making Peter stop breathing for a second.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “you’re probably right, Peter”. You tried your best to smile, but Peter could see your sorrow written all over your face, breaking Peter’s heart even more.

“You’re a good friend Peter!” you started, “I’m so sorry for always talking about Harry, but it’s just that you know him so well, so it’s easier to talk about him with you– and you always manage to say the right thing to make me feel better” you looked down at your intertwining hands.

“It’s almost scary how easily you can make me feel better Peter– it’s like you have superpowers or something” you said, a chuckle escaping your lips.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you about my superpowers?” Peter quipped, trying his best to cheer you up even more. A smile spread across your face as you shook your head.

“My powers are actually being very good at chemistry– AND knowing how to make my friend who’s failing her chemistry class feel better”.

A giggle left your lips at Peter’s joke as you let out a sarcastic “haha, very funny”, playing along.

If only you knew though. How he wished that this mess could be fixed with his actual superpowers. How he wished he could just put on the suit and save you from Harry. How he wished he could free you.

Landing safely on the rooftop of Harry’s penthouse, Peter looked around for his backpack he’d hid with his clothes. He’d managed to hide his double life from Harry so far, and he planned on it staying that way, which meant changing in and out of his suit crouched behind a rooftop vent, every day.

He was back earlier than usual, cutting tonight’s patrol short as it had turned out to be a quiet night. He’d stopped a man stealing a lady’s purse, and after he’d helped a man, who he was 90% sure had dementia, find his way back to his apartment. After that he’d just swung around the city for a few hours. At sunset he’d found a good spot at the top of this new skyscraper they were building downtown. His feet dangled off the scaffolding as he watched the sky turn every shade of pink and orange, before the sun dipped below the horizon.

Back home, on the roof, Peter felt the soft touch of the spring night against his naked skin. He quickly changed out of his suit before stuffing it back into his backpack, swinging it over his shoulder before he headed towards the rooftop door. With a light bounce in his step, Peter made his way down the stairs, his head filled with thoughts about all the studying he needed to do before his exam next week. Slipping through the front door he’s so distracted by his own thoughts he almost doesn’t hear it. The sounds of muffled moans accompanied by Harry’s bedpost hitting the wall.

But he does hear it, and images of how sad you’d looked earlier at the diner start flickering through Peter’s head. Before any rational thoughts can stop him, he’s fished his phone from the back pocket of his jeans. He’s had enough. His fingers work on their own accord, pulling up your contact.

Peter hi, um are you at the penthouse right now?

He knew you weren’t, but he figured this was the best way to bring it up. Taking long strides across the floor, he made his way towards his bedroom door. Why did he suddenly feel like he needed to hide?

He passed through his bedroom door while he slipped his backpack off his shoulder. Not even ten seconds later his phone buzzed in his hands with your reply. He sat down quickly on his bed, one leg bouncing in an anxious rhythm, as he read your reply.

You no? i’m at home why?

Peter i think you should come over there’s a girl with harry in his room

Did this make him a bad person Peter asked himself as he watched the three dotted bubble appear and then disappear. Was this just him acting out of his own selfishness? Letting the devil on his shoulder whisper in his ear and guide his hand? Or did it make him a hero? Saving you from a toxic relationship?

You i’m coming over.

The sound of your footsteps echoed down the streets, mixing with Peter’s calls of your name as he practically jogged behind you trying to catch up to you.

“Peter” you sighed, “just please go back home”.

“No!” he finally caught up to you, grabbing a hold of your wrist, pulling it a little, making you slow down.

“I don’t think you should be alone right now”.

Your face was blank, the only sign of any emotion coming from your restless eyes dancing across his face. He couldn’t decipher what you were thinking. You were angry of course. You were furious only minutes ago when you stormed out the door with both Harry and Peter at your heel.

Harry had spoken his sorry sentences. Telling you it wasn’t what it looked like. Begging for your forgiveness. But he was only kidding himself trying to convince you it wasn’t what it looked like, that he hadn’t cheated on you, when you’d literally caught him with his dick inside another woman.

Harry stayed behind in the lobby, probably thinking it wasn’t worth it to go after you into the spring night, in only his robe. Just as Peter were about to rush after you Harry spoke up,

“If you go after her you’re dead to me!”.

The venomous bite to Harry’s tone stopped Peter dead in his tracks.

“I know you fucking told her” Harry accused, “If you go after her I’m kicking you out– I NEVER want to see you again”.

But standing here, out on the streets of New York at midnight, holding your hand Peter knew he’d made the right decision.

“Ok” you said it so softly Peter didn't think he’d even hear it if his hearing wasn’t enhanced.

“Ok” he repeated.

You pulled your hand away, a knife twisting in Peter’s heart, and started walking. You didn’t say a single word on the way back to your apartment. Peter imagined you were hurt, but you weren’t crying, and Peter didn’t know if that scared him or comforted him.

Safely back inside your apartment you didn’t even acknowledge his presence as you threw your jacket off by the door. Then you walked down the hallway, taking a right at the end, to where he assumed your living room must be. Peter had never actually been in your apartment before.

He followed you down the hallway, after neatly hanging both his and your jacket on your coat rack. He found you on the floor by your couch, your back resting against the front, holding your knees to your chest, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself, as soft sobs escaped you.

“I’m sorry you had to find out like that” Peter apologized, sitting down next to you on your carpet. A feeling like his only purpose in life was to comfort you, overcame him. So, he wrapped a hand around your shoulders, pulling you against his chest. You leaned in closer to his body, your hands shifting from hugging yourself, to hugging Peter tightly.

“No, this was exactly how I needed to find out” you sobbed, “I needed to see it with my own eyes, or I wouldn’t have believed it”.

Peter let you cry until there weren't any tears left to cry, cooing you and whispering all the most reassuring words he could muster up past midnight.

“I don’t know why it hurts so bad… I think deep down I always knew he wasn’t being honest with me– he always kept me guessing” you said. No, Peter thought, he kept you down.

Before Peter could say anything, you lifted your head from his chest, a big wet spot on his t-shirt left in your wake. You looked him right in the eye, and Peter could feel a budding warmth of red covering the apples of his cheeks.

“Please Peter” you pleaded, moving your face closer, the closest it’s ever been to his. Your right hand traveled to cup his hot cheeks, pulling him even closer to your face. So close he felt your breath tickle his skin while you spoke,

“You always make me feel better– it’s your superpower, remember? Please make me feel better”.

Closing his eyes, Peter knew he couldn’t deny you, his heart screamed out for you. This was everything he wanted, was it not? With a shuddering breath and a heart beating out of his chest, he closed the space between you, brushing his lips over yours.

Your other hand cupped his other cheek, pulling him even closer to your body, letting out a small whimper as you kissed him back. Peter felt like his head was spinning. He didn’t know where he ended, and you began.

Then it all became a bit of a blur. His hands found your waist as you climbed onto his lap, brushing your tongue over his bottom lip, deepening the kiss. Your hand left his cheek to toy with his hair, and Peter just about moaned into your mouth. He needed more of you, and with the way you were grinding down on his growing bulge, he knew you did too.

Warmth flooded his body wherever you touched him, and he didn’t think he could ever get enough of you. When your hand left his hair, he just about sighed with disappointment, until he realized how you toyed with the hem of his t-shirt. Raising his hands, he helped you pull it off him. Absentmindedly, you threw it away, before your eyes fell to his chest, quickly scanning over his muscles before they traveled up to his face, where they looked into his soul. Half a second later you pulled him in for another heated kiss.

His hands fell to your ass, helping you grind down on him. Fuck, he was properly hard now, his cock straining against his jeans. With every brush of your core against his cock you whimpered into his mouth, making Peter almost feel lightheaded. You were so pretty. Your lips tasted like raspberries, and under his hands your skin was softer than velvet.

“Take off your pants please” you pleaded against his skin as you started pressing soft kisses down along his jaw and neck.

His hands raced to unbutton his jeans. You pulled away from his neck, staggering to your feet on wobbly legs, making a whine leaving Peter’s lips. Over him you started pulling on your pants, dragging them down your legs along with your panties in one go. Mesmerized by your silhouette, Peter almost forgot what he was doing. You quickly sat down beside him, fingers coming up to hook around the waistband of Peter’s jeans. Then you started pulling them down to his mid-thigh along with his boxers. Peter almost forgot to breathe as you freed his aching cock.

When you climbed onto his lap, Peter’s brain started working again. His hands fell to your ass, steadying you as you got comfortable on his lap.

“D-did you want me to…” Peter trailed off, not knowing how to say what he wanted to say. Instead, he showed you. His right hand rubber over your ass and hip before his fingers brushed over your clit. You mewled at the contact, your eyes closing before you shook your head.

“No, no I just want you– I need you, Peter”.

Fuck, Peter thought. He’d dreamt of hearing you tell him you wanted him, for months. And now it wasn’t a dream anymore.

“O-okay” he stuttered, reaching a hand between your bodies, grabbing at his shaft in a rough hold. With his other hand he helped guide your hips to hover over his tip, sliding it back and forth over your slit, and lining it up with your opening. He could feel how wet and desperate you were, coating his cock in your arousal.

With a hand resting on his shoulder, you slowly sat down on his cock. First slipping the tip in, before your walls swallowed the rest of him, taking him fully inside. A choked moan fell from Peter’s lips as he savored the feeling of your velvet pulsing walls around him. Rocking your hips back and forth, your puffy clit rubbing up against his pelvis, as your mouth fell open in a silent gasp, gaping around words you couldn’t get out.

“Shit” you panted, “You’re so deep”.

“Yeah” Peter breathed out, head falling back against the couch, “You feel me in your tummy?”.

“Fuck,” you lifted your hips, slowly starting to move, “y-yes, I d-do”.

Looking up at you, as you moved over him, Peter thought you looked like an angel. The way your ceiling light lit up the back of your head, Peter was sure you were wearing a halo.

Your rhythm increased and soon you were bouncing in his lap. Your breathy moans falling from your lips, the wet noises coming from where you were connected, and the way you were starting to clench around him, were making the tension in Peter’s stomach grow. Knitting his eyebrows together, Peter didn’t know how much longer he was going to last.

Scared he’d finish before you, his fingers found your clit, pressing down in tight circles. Under the touch of his fingers you almost jumped, while a shuddering breath left your lips. Then Peter felt himself start to get desperate, meeting your bounces with a thrusting of his hip, pushing his throbbing cock even further inside you.

Every brush of his fingers over your clit, coincided with a thrust of his hips, and soon he felt your wall flutter around him. He could feel how your wetness ran down his shaft and down his balls, and he knew you were as close to the edge of ecstasy as he was. His fingers never let up on your clit, and soon you clenched around him so hard he couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“Fuck,” Peter spat, “I’m gonna cum”.

“I–Inside” you moaned, “You can come inside– it’s okay”.

Your words pushed him over the edge, making him come hard inside you with a grunt. He didn’t slow down his fingers on your clit, and the feeling of him filling you up and the brush of his fingers, must’ve pushed you over the edge. Half a second later your hips stilled as Peter felt the frantic pulses of your orgasm milking his cock.

The feeling of you riding out your orgasm on his sensitive cock, clenching down on him as your body shook with aftershocks, it was almost too much, too intense for Peter. His breath came out in hard pants, and his body felt hot to the touch.

Peter didn’t know how much time passed as you both came down from your highs. It could have been three seconds or three hours. All Peter knew was that with you, he lost all sense of time. But this moment of bliss must come to an end. Everything is temporary, and someone must be the first to pull away.

On wobbling legs, you slid off his lap, sitting down next to him on the floor. You leaned back, grabbing your panties off the couch. Peter averted his eyes. The act was somehow too intimate to watch, even after what you two had just done. Instead, he busied himself with pulling his pants back over his ass, and tucking himself away, as a silence fell over the both of you. It felt heavy, loaded with questions he didn’t know if he wanted an answer too. After a few minutes a whisper left Peter’s lips, breaking the silence,

“I think I might be homeless”.

You didn’t answer right away, but Peter could hear your breathing change multiple times, like you were going to say something,

“I’m sorry”.

tagging some mutuals (this is so embarrassing): @hollandweather​, @luciwritesstuff​, @userholland​, @t-lostinworlds​, @silkscream​, @sparklingsin​, @logangarfield​, @justapurrcat​, @tomdutch​, @devotion​, @lnmp89​, @mayal0pez​, @melodicheauxxo-writes​,

...

© shellshocklove, 2023

[cherry-flavoured-thot]

What's Left Unsaid

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Ace x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Desc: Just you and Ace pining over each other and making everyone sick of it.

There’s an elephant in the room that neither you nor Ace seem to want to address. To the passerby, nothing strange seems to be occurring between you. Instead on the outside you both appear to be really close friends, which in itself is not an issue. And if that was simply the case no one would bat an eye. But to the people who know you and him, it is most definitely not the case. And they are tired.

There have been times where Thatch has spotted you both sitting down to eat breakfast but you’re too busy staring at one another that the food seems to go cold, despite how heated your gazes were getting. To the point where he could be across the room and feel uncomfortable for the strange energy going on between the two of you. Bringing it up with Ace was a lost cause, as he’d just punch his arm and tell him to shove off because nothing was going on. “So… you and Ace?” But bringing it up with you doesn’t seem to be anymore fruitful. You pretend to act coy about the issue.

“We’re just friends, Thatch.”

“I don’t think any of my friends look at me like you two look at each other.” You were both bordering on undressing each other with your eyes, which if it was a once of occurrence, he’d leave it alone. But he’s witnessed it several days in a row. You open your mouth to retort, only for him to cut you off. “And don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.” You sigh, grimacing into your food.

“What if he doesn’t like me back?” Thatch is speechless. He’s just provided you some form of evidence that clearly Ace might be thinking about you more then just a friend, and you still aren’t sure. He’s not sure what’s got him more stumped, how you just seem to have no idea. Or the fact that two of the most reckless people he knows both appear to be shying away from confronting their feelings.

Marco, is just as perplexed when Thatch fills him in. Because he’s heard more times than he has fingers both of you flirt with one another, and some of those lines made him do a double take. It can’t be that you’re both oblivious, there’s just no way that’s the case. Not with the shared glances, incessant flirting, and how strange you both get upon any physical contact with one another.  You both seem to be enabling each other, but neither daring to finally bite the bullet with it outright. And it was just starting to get irritating.

There’s nothing more annoying than trying to fill Ace in on something important, who can zone out at the best of times. When you happen to be in the vicinity, because every ounce of his attention just falls onto you. He’s not sure who’s worse, Ace, who while denies up and down what he was doing, doesn’t seem to hold much shame about his blatant staring. Or you, who will also deny it up and down, to the point of being overly flustered about the whole ordeal.

“Ace you’re seriously dragging this out.” Marco decides to voice the next time it occurs, Ace’s head snaps straight back to him. “Just confess already. You can’t really think they don’t like you? Because if I had a 100 Berries for every time you said to each other things that even some couples would blush at, I’d have enough to cover several bounties on this ship.” Ace can’t argue with that, holding his hands up defensively in defeat.

“Alright, alright, point taken.” Marco was satisfied enough to drop the subject. But made a mental note if this drags out any further to take matters into his own hands.  

You both knew you were dancing around the topic. The actual admission lingering around like a cloud over head. Perhaps it was the deep-rooted fear of rejection that was stopping either of you from finally voicing it aloud. Or the wanting of finally having the other being the one to crack and finally confess. Either way, you both knew it was time to do something due to the questioning of your crewmates.  

“So…” you both spoke at the same time. It was late, you were both alone together, with the words dancing in your throats. “You go first,” you and Ace laugh as you interrupt each other again, he gives you one of his signature grins before speaking.

“Would it be crazy for me to think that you like me more than a friend or crewmate?” You match his grin with one of your own.

“Hmm I don’t know; would it be crazy for me to think that you feel the same way?” A silence inserts itself of between the pair of you. You both look to one another, waiting for someone to make the final leap over the line. And upon not wanting to have another strange conversation with Thatch or Marco about the relationship status of you and Ace, you decide to do it. “I like you, Ace.” You feel relieved to finally voice it aloud, and so does he, taking your hands into his.

“I like you too,” echoing the sentiment straight back to you. Joy radiating out his features the same way heat does from his body.

“So, uh did Marco have a conversation with you about our flirting or?” Ace eventually brings up while you’re both standing there overlooking the dark ocean into the night.

“No but Thatch did bring up our um staring contests? At breakfast.” You both laugh again. “No wonder they are so over us.”

“How much do you think Marco heard? Because you said some crazy stuff-“ you’re quick to stop his sentence, recalling some of the things rather recently that he’s said to you in passing.

“Now hang on just a minute, you also said some crazy stuff, that I can’t even repeat while being sober.”

[dqllgarden]

malt liquor on your breath, my my.

jesse pinkman x reader

warnings: drunk sex (as consensual as it can be lol), smut, fem reader

cross posted on ao3

-

jesse helped you as you stumbled into your shared bedroom. you were really drunk and jesse knew you needed to stop and rest. he helped you onto the bed and sat you up before running downstairs to grab you a glass of water.

“drink some now so you don’t feel like absolute shit in the morning, yo.” he handed you the glass and encouraged you to drink it. you had just came home from a night out with all your friends and ended up drinking way more than you meant to. you were lucky to have a boyfriend who cared about you so much. he took off his shoes and crawled into bed next to you, slightly wrinkling his nose at the strong smell of alcohol. wanting to get more comfortable in bed, he kicked off his jeans and wrapped his arm around you once you set down the water.

throughout this whole interaction, you hadn’t said much other than soft hums in agreement. you didn’t need to, though. jesse knew you. knew how to take care of you and what you needed. eventually, you turned over to face him and kiss his neck. jesse smiled and kissed your forehead once you stopped. you started reaching towards the hem of his boxers before he grabbed your hand.

“baby, you’re drunk. we can’t do that,” jesse said with a soft tone. jesse would always worry about having sex with you while you were inebriated at risk of it not actually being something you want. you on the other hand, wanted this more than anything and wished he’d understand.

you continued to kiss his neck while your hand slipped into his boxers and stroked his cock until he was hard. despite his protests, he gave in. jesse moaned at the way you stroked him, sloppy and full of desire. he helped you take off your pants and underwear and pushed them aside.

“how do you want me?” jesse looked into your eyes while he continued his whispers about how adorable you are. you didn’t even need to speak, you just laid on your back and pulled him on top of you. you wanted to be taken care of tonight. jesse kissed you deeply as he slowly thrusted into you, his saliva mixing with the taste of alcohol. it burned his mouth in the best way possible. it tasted like you. your mouth opened slightly as you gasped at the feeling of him filling you up, desperately grabbing onto him to pull him closer.

“fuck baby, you feel so damn good,” he praised, the words going straight to your cunt and making you squeeze around him. the two of you were like desperate teenagers, hot, sweaty, and needy for each other. you couldn’t stop grabbing onto one another and jesse couldn’t stop peppering your face in kisses. because of your drunk state you finished quickly while jesse had his arms wrapped around you, pace never slowing down. you whined from the feeling of him still inside and overstimulating you, jesse giggling at the way your face scrunched up. he pulled out and finished with his hand, not wanting to make himself the main focus of the night. you already started to drift off to sleep as he pulled you into a hug and kissed your temple before joining you in sleep.

[chaotic-iguana]

desperate

joel x f! reader

my little contribution to kinktober. a teasing/denial fic that i originally wrote for butcher (the boys) but joelified bc he's so daddy. nsfw under the cut. sorry i've been mia

“fuckin’ look at you, doll.” joel flashes you a shit-eating grin before reaching up to pinch your nipples between his thumb and forefingers harshly, rumbling a chuckle at the whimper it draws from you. you’re all splayed out for him with your hands tied to headboard above, thighs wrenched open by his shoulders; skin hot and flushed under his touch. he’s told you to stay still twice already but you can’t, not when he’s been leaving featherlight brushes on your skin for hours and cruelly laughing at every sound that comes from your mouth, smiling at the way your hips buck in his hold-

and then he’s leaning in just to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to your sternum, beard stinging against your sensitive skin, jaw working to nip and bite until your tears are falling and he’s pulling back with a mocking tut, eyes twinkling.

“all these pretty tears just f’me, love?” your frantic nod makes him raise a brow, hand coming down to swat the inside of your thigh - the impact shooting straight to your poor, neglected cunt.

“use y’words, chatterbox.”

his tone makes you want to curl in on yourself, because he knows you’re too far gone to form words right now, too far gone to think about anything beyond the fact that you need him and that you might actually die if he stops touching you. but you know joel, and you know how mean he really is - he’ll keep you writhing on the bed for hours to fix your attitude if he doesn’t hear an answer now; uncaring of the fact that you’re barely grasping at thoughts and completely fucking gone. and like the devil, you he starts rubbing circles into the juncture of your thighs while you struggle to answer him.

“y-yes, da-joel. ‘m cr-crying for y-you.” he hums, and suddenly runs a knuckle through your folds, making you keen, tears sticking to your lashes.

“yes, who?” bastard. he knows you can never bring yourself to say it - not even if it rests on the tip of your tongue every time - and despite yourself, you bite your tongue and shake your head, hiccuping.

“oh we’re being shy now? fuck me, honey, where was this when i had my cock in your ass?” his hands rest just above where you need him now, thumbs stroking your abdomen in careful, downward brushes. your back arches into the touch, hips chasing him even when he pulls his hands away, and then you’re sobbing in earnest.

another tut, dripping with condescension. “no more cryin’. tell me what you want, baby.” and you’re gasping another breath and gulping air, wrists straining against the rope before stammering out another response, too delirious with your need to register what you were saying.

“need you to t-touch me, d-daddy, please.” he shuffles up, gripping your chin to turn it towards him before capturing your lips in his, his tongue sweeping into your mouth. his thumb presses gently on your buzzing clit, making you jolt with surprise. you blink at him, frowning. he’d never cave this quickly.

until- he’s reaching down to plant a kiss to your forehead, smoothing over your hair before nuzzling against your cheek.

“gotta give my pretty girl what she needs, don’t i?

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! 

taglist (lmk if u wanna be taken off, no hard feelings): @imherefordeanandbones , @theywhowriteandknowthings , @josephquinnswhore , @millerscoffee , @nostalxgic, @sscorpiiio , @pedrosaidsheispunk , @its-nebuleuse, @sofiparallel , @mandoisapunk , @bastardmandennis , @pawnshopb1ues,

dividers by @cafekitsune (the best.)

[lao-shu]

We fight, we break up. We kiss, we make up.

————— ♡ —————

Pairing: Lucifer x Reader ♡

Genre: Hurt / Comfort (ish) ♡

Synopsis: Break up / make up with Lucifer. ♡

TW: Arguing, threatening harm (he’d never actually hurt you though), name calling.

————— ♡ —————

————— ♡ —————

“Do you even love me?” You scream, slightly regretting the words the moment they left your lips.

“How dare you even ask me that…?” Lucifer’s gaze twisted into a sickened glare as he stepped towards you. “You know nothing about real love. You have no place to lecture me on it.”

“Listen to the disgusting way you speak to me!” You snapped.

“Because you refuse to listen to me!” Lucifer raised his voice as he walked towards you, “You speak to me as if I’m some horrible, evil entity. Is that what you truly believe?” Lucifer stopped only a few inches away, teeth gritting as he continued. “I’m sick of this. You’re selfish and spoiled. You do nothing but whine and complain while you act like an entitled brat.”

“Is that so?” You glared back, looking up into his eyes.

“Yes.” Lucifer replied, his gaze softening ever so slightly as he realized your proximity. His jaw remained clenched and his eyes never left contact with yours. “It is so. You don’t know how to love, you only know how to take.” A small smirk curved to the corners of his mouth as he leaned towards you. “Your ego is your downfall.”

“My ego?! That’s rich, coming straight from the Avatar of Pride.” You laugh sarcastically, “Say it again.”

Lucifer crouched down to look directly into your eyes. His voice was low and menacing, coming out with a deep growl. “Your ego is your downfall.”

You grabbed his collar and glared at him, pressing your forehead to his. “You’re a real asshole.”

Lucifer’s eyes dilated slightly as you pulled him against you. He looked into your eyes, that same sadistic smirk unable to hide on his soft lips. You could feel his breath on your skin as a small chuckle escapes him.

“What an adorable little thing you are.” He whispered, his suddenly soft voice making your stomach drop. “Do you think you look scary when you pull me close to you?”

“You’re such a feisty little thing.” Lucifer’s smirk turned into a full smile as you hesitated to respond. “It’s an adorable trait.” Lucifer’s lips brushed your ear ever so slightly as he whispered to you. “Do you enjoy teasing me?”

“Such an asshole.” You repeat as he pulls back, your lips only centimetres apart.

Lucifer’s eyes flashed with a playful amusement. “I’m beginning to think that’s your favourite word to describe me.” He chuckled, “Go ahead. Say it again.”

“You heard me.” You muttered.

“I may be an asshole, but I’d rather die than be with someone who doesn’t respect me as their lover. Say it again, and I’ll make you wish you hadn’t.” Lucifer leaned even closer, his red eyes burning with an intense passion.

“And? What are you going to do?” You reach forward and brush a strand of hair out of his face. “You don’t scare me, Lucifer.”

Lucifer's smirk grew into a sly smile as his teeth flashed a brilliant white. “You might want to rethink that." His voice was low, and his eyes locked to yours with such intensity that it felt as if he was studying you down to your very soul. "You don't know how dangerous I am."

“I do.” You maintain your stance, “And I know that you won’t hurt me.”

“Are you sure?” He tilts his head at you, “Why do you insist on provoking me? What’s the reason you’re so certain I won’t hurt you?” Lucifer’s voice softened slightly as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“Why are you so close to me?” You asked softly, crossing your arms.

“Don’t waste time with useless questions.” He sighed, “What I’d like to know is why haven’t you taken the opportunity to kiss me yet?” Lucifer smirked, “I know you want to, what’s stopping you?”

You glare at him. “I’m not giving in to you this time.”

“Give in?” Lucifer repeated you, sliding his hands down your sides and resting them at your waist. “This isn’t about giving in. It’s about giving up.” He touched your cheek and smiled. “Do not run from your feelings. Not for something as simple as pride.”

“Says you.” You force yourself to say. Your self control is slowly shattering under his grip.

“Says me.” Lucifer repeats you again, this time with a laugh. “You must be so incredibly tired, fighting with me every time I attempt to show you the slightest bit of affection. The effort alone must be exhausting.” He shook his head. “Let me tell you a secret: the world will never reward you for running from your feelings. Ever.”

You continue to glare at Lucifer, refusing to break eye contact. Lucifer’s eyes narrowed slightly at your glare before leaning down and gently brushing his lips against yours.

“I can be much worse, you know.” Lucifer’s voice was dark and raspy - the same fire in his eyes continued to blaze. You could feel the power behind his words as he continued to speak. “I can show you something so much worse than your pride being hurt.”

You raised an eyebrow, challenging him once more. “Like?”

“Would you like me to show you? I can, if you’d like.” Lucifer’s voice got lower, and barely more audible than a subtle whisper. “But be warned, my love, I can be cruel.”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes and grabbed his collar, pulling him down for a passionate kiss. You’d had enough of this argument, this back and forth had gone for too long. Neither of you would ever actually hurt each other, and at this point, you’d forgotten what you were even arguing about. That’s the problem when your partner is the Avatar of Pride, and yet you have your own - neither wants to be the first to back down.

Lucifer's eyes widened as you pulled him closer, and he returned your kiss with a softness you hadn't felt from him before. He pulled you closer to him as he leaned into you, and continued to kiss you with a passion that only you knew. When he finally pulled away again, a soft smirk appeared on his face.

"Next time, you should be more careful with your words."

————— ♡ —————

AN: Thanks for reading! I’ll be writing one of these for each of the brothers & dateables. ♡

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Joshua Hong x F!Reader TW : it's angsty ; he's still not the gentleman Shua we love ; but he's better than the last part ; reader is wounded ; mention of guns and gunshots ; lots of talk of blood in the first half ; nobody dies though! ; happy ending ; Word Count : 1.8k Request : Anonny : Your stories are so good! My fav is When it’s Done with Joshua! Are you going to do a part 2? I’m dying to see what happened! A/N : I did not forget this request! I reread the first part, and lemme tell ya, I'm so excited to write part two!

The gunshot echoed through the small alleyway that you had run off into, it was loud and it pierced your ears like a firecracker had just gone off right next to your head. A warning shot you were sure of, probably from one of the guards that you had slipped away from. It wasn’t until you felt the sudden heat in your shoulder and the soaking of the shirt that you were wearing. You looked at your arm and saw the blood stain spreading through the fabric, and it was only once you had realized that it wasn’t a warning shot, that you had been shot, that you felt the agonizing burn and the pain that seemed to radiate and hit every single receptor in your body. It was all you could feel. 

You dropped to the ground, practically crawling to hide behind a dumpster that was pressed up against one of the many abandoned buildings that you and Joshua had once scavenged in. With one hand clasped to your mouth, you reached your other hand to your back, gently pressing your finger against the spot where the bullet had gone straight through your skin. It hurt like a bitch, a pain that was indescribable, so bad it made you black out momentarily. 

This was it, you were sure of it. You’d bleed out behind the dumpster because you just had to prove a point to the asshole who was being whisked away to somewhere safe. It was ironic, but you never made the best choices, and this was surely, without a doubt, the worst decision you had ever made in your life… Which now seemed to be very close to over. 

“Dammit! Just let me go!” Joshua fought with the guard who was clearly becoming more and more annoyed with each push that was landed against him, so annoyed in fact that he finally threw up his arms, allowing Joshua to run past him. 

He didn’t know the first place to run to, and to be honest, he didn’t know if he’d be able to find you. Part of him was actually terrified of what he would find if he did come across you. The gunshot had been so loud, it was close, and he knew that you couldn’t have made it far from the group before the shot had been fired. 

What was he so afraid of? Why hadn’t he just let you in? It’s not like he didn’t have feelings for you, it’s not like you hadn’t found a way to weasel into his heart and make it seem like it was only beating for you. Who was there to put the act on for? Everyone else in the world that he thought had mattered were most likely gone now, you were all he had left… And now he was scared that he’d be truly alone in this world. 

There was no one around, no one that could possibly be a threat, not that he could see. But you were also nowhere to be found either. Had someone taken you? The thought alone had his blood boiling, thinking of someone else laying their hands on you, hurting you… He shook his head, his fingers running through his hair to brush it out of his face. He couldn’t think like that. You had to be around here somewhere. 

A small whimper, one that would have gone unheard if the city were alive with pre-apocalyptic sounds, cars and muffled voices would have drowned out the quiet whine that came from the alleyway that he had just walked past. Without a second thought, he turned down the alley, his legs picking up speed to carry him to where the sound had come from. 

Tear stained cheeks and swollen eyes glanced up at him, but he couldn’t stop from looking at the bright red liquid that colored your hand and your shirt, dripping down your arm and pooling onto the dirty ground beneath you. “Oh my god…” Was all he managed to say as he crouched down in front of you, pulling off his jacket and pressing it against your wound. 

“You came back…” You whispered, although he wasn’t sure if your voice was so low because you were trying to be quiet or if you were just losing so much blood that you were becoming weak. “Why did you come back? You could have been safe…” You continued to speak, and it’s like he could see your heart rate picking up, the blood pouring more quickly now from your wound as you got more worked up. 

“Shut up.” He hissed, trying his best not to upset you, but you needed to calm down or else you’d lose too much blood, and that would mean he’d lose you, and he wasn’t about to let that happen. “You’re so stupid, why would you run off like that? Now both of us are back where we started.” He muttered, and your head dropped, but not only that, you shifted away from him, away from his touch, away from the jacket that was being used to try to stop the bleeding. 

“You didn’t have to come back for me.” You mumbled, your knees curling up against your chest as if you were trying to make as much space between the two of you as physically possible. “I’m sure your good karma meter has reached the top by now, you didn’t have to come back.” He just couldn’t get things right, he just kept upsetting you, even when he wasn’t trying to. “You can leave now, I’d much rather not annoy you with my dying.” 

“You seriously need to stop talking.” He urged, watching as, what could be, the remaining blood seemed to squirt from the bullet hole. “I’ll tell you why I came back, but I need to make sure you’re okay first. So just… Shut up long enough for me to try to help.” Your eyes rolled, but he didn’t really care for it, as long as they weren’t rolling to the back of your head. He could deal with your sassiness, it meant you were still alive. 

He carefully got you up off the ground, making sure you were steady on your feet before leaning over in front of you. “What are you doing?” You asked, but he didn’t have time for your questions, and he knew damn well that your time was very limited, so he reached back, wrapping his arms around the bend of your knees and hoisting you up onto his back. “What the hell?!” You shrieked, but your arms immediately wrapped around him to hold on. He liked the feelings of having you close to him like this… It wasn’t intimate in any way… It was just close, and if the situation weren’t so dire, he would have loved to hear you laugh and maybe even squeal with delight as he carried you around. 

“If you walk, you’ll lose even more blood. Just… take a nap… I’ve got you. I’ll keep you safe… I promise.” 

///

Joshua sat in the little chair beside the bed where you were laying, it was uncomfortable, but he didn’t mind it, and it almost seemed like he had become one with the chair considering he had refused to leave as long as you were still in there. 

The fact that he had managed to catch up with the group of survivors was a miracle, although the guard that he had pushed around didn’t seem very pleased at his reappearance. Once it was realized that you were injured though, one of the other guards pulled you off of Joshuas back and carried you the rest of the way. 

From the moment of arrival at the “base camp”, at least that’s what they called it, he never left your side. The nurses and doctors that had been saved from nearby hospitals had all come to look at you, taking turns to make sure you were healing okay. You had lost so much blood though that they were basically telling him to say his goodbyes when you first arrived. 

Still, even though you were okay, you were far from healthy. You were beyond weak, and it seemed like all you could do at this point was sleep, and while it scared the hell out of him, the doctors all tried to reassure him that sleeping was exactly what your body needed right now, especially since there wasn’t much else they could do outside the hospitals. 

So he sat, and he waited, he waited for hours, days, it felt like weeks that he just sat in that chair, dozing off occasionally just to be jolted awake thinking that he heard you move only to see the doctor walking in to check on you again. He had many questions, but none of them he wanted the answers to. 

A little yawn, and then the quietest curse had him opening his eyes from the little catnap that he had begun to take. You were sitting up on the makeshift hospital bed, your face in what looked to be a permanent grimace as you rolled your shoulders and tried to stretch. “It’s gonna hurt worse if you keep doing that.” He commented, finally feeling all the tension wash away from him seeing you awake. 

“You’re still here…” You said, as if finally noticing that he was in the room with you. Your head tilted to the side as you looked at him, your eyes narrowed, questioning his presence.

“I’ve been here the whole time, I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.” 

“How long have I been sleeping?” 

“Too long.” He said flatly, finally getting up from the chair and stretching. Even though he had occasionally taken a small walk around the camp, a majority of the past 3 days he had been in that chair. “How are you feeling?” 

Your eyes followed him as he got closer to the side of your bed, his hand reaching out to touch yours, but hovering just above it. “Uhm… stiff… Sore… Disoriented. Why are you still here?” Your hand moved away from his, but he wasn’t scared anymore. He wasn’t going to hide his feelings from you, he wasn’t going to push you away. You were staying with him, and while he had acted so annoyed when the roles had been reversed, you were now stuck with him. 

“I’m not leaving you… Ever.” He emphasized the ending, his hand coming down on top of yours and giving it a light squeeze. “Now that I know you’re okay, and we’re both safe… I shouldn’t have kept it to myself… But I need you with me. I’ve always been scared of losing you, since the second week of meeting you. Now that I’ve almost actually lost you, I never want to go through that again.” He leaned in, kissing the top of your head as his hand lingered on top of yours, his thumb brushing across your knuckles and sending goosebumps across your skin. “I’m sorry for being an asshole, I’m sorry for making you feel unwanted… I’m sorry for causing this… Will you ever forgive me?” 

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[dancingtotuyo]

Ivy (Joel Miller X Reader One shot)

Preface: @morning-star-joy made this mood board for me (on main) from a fun pintrest game and I just had to write something (Not sure I got the Cowboy- August & Getaway Car theme or not lol). I wrote this very quickly, not proofread lol.

Summary: Joel helps you escape

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Illusions to abuse (physical & sexual) & grooming, over all references to trauma and cannon typical violence & themes.

words: 1558

Author Master List

Songs I listened to while writing

-

The first time Joel Miller comes across your farm, he has to talk your husband out of shooting him on sight. You know about the Jackson settlement about 10 miles south of you. You’ve begged him to move you there within the safe confines of the towering walls. You’ve seen the lights on one of the more extended hunting expeditions. Elliot refuses to leave you at the cabin alone for more than a couple of hours. You’ve tried to run before. You weren’t able to move for days after he caught you. He’d been on horseback, catching you quickly. 

Joel trades his rifle and ammo for his life, eyes never leaving yours. Can he read the sadness in them? The horrors this world has inflicted on you over and over? 

You wear a dress. It’s tattered around the hem. Not something very practical. You look more like a captive than a wife. Joel thinks you must be in your late 40’s, but you’re actually 39. Elliot looks to be about 20 years your senior. Joel tells himself he’ll get you out because it’s the right thing to do. He ignores the tug of desire he feels when he looks into your eyes. 

He invites the two of you to Jackson. 

Elliot refuses. He doesn’t trust the Jackson settlement. 

Joel warns of a colony of infected trickling in. He watches the fear flash in your eyes, survival instincts kicking in as you look at your husband. 

Elliot says he can handle them. 

Joel speaks of electricity, heat in the winter, fans in the summer, and running water. A hot shower sounds delicious. You were 19 when the world ended. You can’t remember the last time you felt the hot water trail down your back. 

Only after Elliot chases Joel off does he realize you never uttered a word. 

The second time Joel comes bearing fresh vegetables and more ammo. Your mouth waters at the sight of red tomatoes. He ignores Elliot’s threats and hands the produce straight to you with a glowing smile. 

You thank him. You take a bite from one of the tomatoes like it’s an apple. It’s warm in your mouth. The acidic tang is like a summer’s night on your taste buds. The insides dribble down your chin, making you laugh. 

It takes Joel’s breath away. There’s a childlike joy to it, a spring bubbling up from the depths of the mountain in the springtime. He catches a flash of life return to your eyes if only for a moment. He knows it’s been a long time since any semblance of happiness graced your features. 

Joel fights the urge to wipe the juice from your chin. 

“You’ll stay for dinner.” It’s an order, not a request, and the first words he’s heard you utter.

Elliot protests, but you cut him off. “He’s staying for dinner.”

You know you’ll probably pay for it later, but you don’t care. You haven’t seen another face in years. It’ll be worth the conversation at the very least. 

Elliot is out hunting a week later. You’re hanging the laundry on the line when Joel emerges from the woods. He’s on foot this time, different from his previous visits on horseback. It must’ve taken him hours to get here on foot. 

“Howdy,” He smiles. 

You raise an eyebrow. “My husband isn’t here.”

“Didn’t come to see him.”

You stop. He rests a hand on his hip looking across the small clearing that houses the barn and small farmhouse. “You’re too exposed out here.”

“Joel-.”

“I like the way you say my name.”

Your heart stops. Your palms sweat. You’re not blind. You’ve seen the way he looks at you, smiles at you. You remember the soft brush of his hand on your back in the kitchen during his last visit. You remember it too often for a single moment in time with a man you hardly know. 

You square your shoulders. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Neither should you.” 

He cups your cheek. You flinch away out of habit. Anger flares in his eyes. You’re used to seeing it in Elliots, but somehow you know that for once, it’s not directed at you. 

Somehow you know what he’s going to say before he says it. “I’m going to kill him.”

“You can’t.” The words leave your mouth before he’s finished. 

He looks surprised. “He hurts you. Tell me I’m wrong.”

You can’t. You both know that, but how do you explain to Joel that he can’t kill your abuser- your captor- your one last connection to life before Cordyceps?

“You’re not wrong.” You swallow the lump forming in your throat. “But you can’t kill him.”

Joel knows better than to ask, but if he did, you would tell him. You would tell him that Elliot had been around your entire life. He’s your father’s best friend from college. He saved you on outbreak night. He wasn’t always like this. You loved him once, or at least you thought you did. You wonder how much of it was manipulation now. He was nice and kind in the beginning. He didn’t touch you until well after your 22nd birthday. The two of you settled on this farm years ago with a horse, a few cows, and a couple of chickens. Elliot loved the seclusion. He wanted a family. The longer you went without one, the meaner he got, but you think regardless, he’d have turned into the person he is now. You could see the signs in hindsight. 

One day, you would tell Joel about it all, but not today. 

“I’m taking you to Jackson. This place isn’t safe. He isn’t safe.”

You want to go. You wanted to go long before his demand. “Not on foot. He’ll catch up. He’s got the horse.”

When Joel grabs your hand, you hold onto it tighter. He pulls you down the soft slope of the hill to the old barn. His hand is rough and calloused, but you can’t help but feel like it’s the softest thing you’ve ever felt. The breeze plays in your long hair. Joel’s free hand glides along the warped barn until he finds a deep notch. 

“Check here every night after dark. I’ll leave a note for you when I come for you with directions on where to meet me.”

He cups both of your cheeks. “Every night, you understand?”

You nod.

For a minute you think he might kiss you. You’ve thought about that too as you lay in bed awake and listless for hours on end.

He drops his hands. “Show me where.”

You quickly find the notch. It’s deeper than you thought. Your fingers brush up against a piece of paper. You furrow your brow looking up at Joel as you fish it out between two fingers. 

“Good girl.” He smiles. 

It’s only four words, but it’s all you need. Every night. I promise.

“I promise.” He repeats to you. You don’t doubt him for a minute. 

You wish you could let him kill Elliot. It would make things easier. You could go with him now and not worry about anything else. Would he kiss you now? Or wait until you’re safely within the confines of the Jackson walls.

“Every night.” You tell him. 

He kisses your forehead before he leaves. It gets you through the next two weeks. 

You make sure Elliot is asleep just as you have every night since Joel’s last visit, but something feels different tonight. You can feel it in your bones. You take a small bag with you, lantern lighting your way to the back of the barn. An owl hoots in the woods, and the crickets sing with the dying heat of summer. The nip of autumn is already in the air. 

You ease your hand into the notch. You panic when you don’t feel the note immediately. You got it wrong. You’ll have to live through this another night- and then you feel it. Your heart leaps. You can hardly comprehend the note. It takes you three times through before you finally do. You know exactly where he is.

You abandon all caution and run for it. You can be there in under 10 minutes. Your hair flies behind you. The underbrush of the woods crunches under your boots. You catch your dress on a couple of brambles, one scratches your cheek, but you don’t feel it. You don’t feel anything but freedom surging through you. 

You catch sight of Joel in the small clearing. The full moon illuminates his figure. You recognize it, already committing to your memory. Joel spins around, rifle ready until realizes it’s you running toward him. He barely sets it down before you’re in his arms. 

You’re strong around you. They feel like safety and promise. He chuckles. “Glad you made it, Sweetheart.”

You laugh. You can’t help it. It’s not funny, and you should be more cautious, but you simply do not care. You’re free. You’re so close to a hot shower and fresh tomatoes and you’re in Joel Miller’s strong arms. 

Before he can say anything more, you press your lips to his. They’re warm, slightly chapped, and eager against yours. You never want to stop, but Joel eventually pulls back, panting. He tucks your hair behind your ear. 

“Let’s go home, Sweetheart.”

[mynameisjessejk]

Stories of the Past

Maedhros regarded the blanket-lump on the sofa for a moment.

Maglor, at his harp in the corner, shrugged one shoulder, but didn’t stop the slow, sweet tune he was coaxing from the instrument.

Maedhros supposed, by the slightly wavy dark hair ruffling up from the edge of the blanket, that one of the twins was having a bad day. He’d had plenty of those in his life, and he understood the urge to bury oneself in blankets and ignore the world a bit.

The buried twin made a soft acknowledging noise when Maedhros rubbed his back, and he turned into his arms when Maedhros wedged himself onto the sofa behind him.

Maedhros pressed his grandson into the back of the sofa and tucked the dark head beneath his chin. “When your father was a child,” he murmured.

Maglor plucked a cheerful chord, abruptly swinging the mood of the tune he was playing around the something more playful.

Their grandson made an approving noise and nuzzled deeper into Maedhros’ embrace.

“The watch captain at Amon Ereb at the time was an edain woman named Beldis,” Maedhros continued. “And she came into my service because her brother had been killed and someone needed to protect her law-sister and her nephew. As far as she was concerned, the funniest thing in the world was watching Elros sass me.”

“He did, too,” Maglor agreed, playing an emphatic chord.

“Powers, he sassed me,” Maedhros said. “First thing he ever said to me was to call me rude.” Maedhros hummed in harmony with Maglor’s tune for a moment, and then said reflectively. “One day, Beldis decided to teach your father and your uncle to shoot the reflex bow favored by her people.”

“Oh I remember this,” Maglor said, and the tune changed again, something lighter, lilting, an echoing memory of childhood laughter in a dark time.

Maedhros closed his eyes and picked up the tune, Singing softly.

It was hard not to think of the grandson in his arms as young, though he was older than Maedhros had been when he’d followed his father across the sea. Still, there was an innocence about him, a sweetness and warmth, that made it difficult for Maedhros not think of him as boy.  

The boy cradled to his chest turned his head so he could watch Maedhros’ memory of Elrond and Elros play out across the rug.

Maedhros closed his eyes as he Sang, better to feel the memory his Song was bringing to life, of Elros, snapping himself with the bowstring, of Elrond trying to care for his squirming brother’s welt, of Beldis, chiding them to keep trying, and the swear words Elros spewed when he snapped himself again.

Elros had utterly refused to say where he’d learned some of the words, a few of which were so vulgar no one had dared say them in Maedhros’ hearing in centuries, and Beldis had been laughing too hard to back Maedhros up when he tried to discipline Elros.

Maglor had offered to wash the young peredhel’s mouth out with soap, as their mother had done the first time she’d heard Celegorm say a swear word, and Elros had replied, “Try.”

This had only made Beldis laugh harder.

Maglor had taken the twins to their room, grounded and about to get a stern talking to.

Maedhros had turned to look at Beldis. “Just like my nephew at the same age,” she replied to his arch look.  

Maedhros let the memory and the Song fade. “Truth is,” he murmured into the dark hair against his shoulder, “I was only annoyed at Beldis because her laughing made it so hard for me to keep a straight face.”

Maglor, fingers stilling on the harp briefly, said indignantly, “You! I had to actually be the one to yell at them!” He scoffed. “I had to be the one to explain to Elros that he wasn’t allowed to call his bowstring a  void spider’s eggsac.”

Maedhros snorted. “Never did take,” he said reflectively.

There was a soft sigh against Maedhros’ neck.

Maedhros stroked his back tenderly. He let his voice turn lilting and low. “Elrond had a look that could pin you in place and make you feel like even your ancestors should be embarrassed. Elros just swore. That was always the easiest way to tell them apart. Even when they were trying to be confusing Elrond never remembered to swear enough.”

Maglor picked back up the soothing background music.

Maedhros hummed along for a while, feeling his grandson start to drift to sleep.

[painted-doe]

WIP word search

Tagged by the exceptional @bromcommie! Enjoy a bunch of snippets from some of my WIPs based on the keywords that appear in them. (These are probably longer than they're supposed to be but hey ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

My keywords were: space, sharp, sweet, home

space

From “what the water wants”, a horror story about a poltergeist haunting Bucky and Sam (although no horror makes an appearance in this part).

The one and only time he’d ever been invited over to Bucky’s place, Sam had stood in the doorway of the barren apartment and stared. For a moment he’d wondered if the elevator had taken them to the wrong floor — if maybe this apartment was empty and waiting for a tenant to move in. Because this wasn’t a space where someone lived. 

But Bucky had pinned him with a stare that said don’t fucking say it, and had shouldered past him and thrown his keys on the counter with the familiarity and confidence of a person who did, in fact, live here. Anyway, they’d both been bleeding and bruised and covered in toxic slime at the time, so there had been more urgent things on Sam’s mind.

But later that night, once they were both scrubbed and disinfected and bandaged, each wearing a pair of Bucky’s sweatpants and working their way steadily through several white boxes of Szechuan takeout on the floor in front of the TV, Sam had turned to him with purpose. Bucky had stiffened and stared straight ahead like he’d never seen anything more fascinating than the crowds cheering for Hungary’s soccer team.

“Dude,” Sam said, not unkindly, “you know you don't have to live like this?”

sharp

From “Diptych”, a two-part Sambucky fic. Part 1: Sam and Bucky are sucked into Westview and Wanda mashes them together like a couple of action figures kissing. Part 2: The aftermath when they return to real life.

Sam didn’t remember there being any children in Westview, but he must have forgotten somehow. 

Of course there were children; there were children everywhere now that Sam was noticing them. Even Marcus and Jeannie had a son, Jack. Maybe it was odd that he had forgotten about little Jack, since they lived right next door. But it was very easy not to think about that, so he didn’t.

Jack was competing in a junior league baseball game and everyone was invited. Bucky was feeling steady enough to leave the house, and that didn’t happen every day, so they put on sweaters and dusted off their baseball caps and held hands as they walked down to the baseball diamond in the crisp air. They were entering the deepest days of autumn, with Halloween right around the corner, and the low afternoon sunlight dappled the orange-red leaves of the trees that lined their little suburban street. Bucky’s winter-coloured eyes caught and held the amber light, and it softened all his sharp edges to gold; Sam’s heart flipped a little when he met his gaze and smiled.

sweet

From the upcoming second chapter of “A Candle in the Window”:

“Hi, Mr. Barnes!” Peter shouts, waving at him.

Barnes, who has just leapt onto the metal dinosaur’s spiny back and is using a combat knife in each hand to scale it like a mountain climber, looks genuinely horrified to see him. It’s actually kind of sweet.

“Is that you under there?!” he yells. “What the — get outta here, kid!”

“Thanks for coming!” Peter shouts back happily, and promptly gets knocked out of the sky mid-swing as the thing’s big metal tail smacks him. 

Fortunately, he lands in a tree. 

Unfortunately, the tree is about to be set on fire. 

The robo-dino’s mouth opens toward him, its jaws wide enough for him to stand up between them, and those are some very big pointy steel teeth, and he can see the flamethrower powering up at the back of the throat where the tongue ought to be, and all his instincts fail as for one critical second he <em>freezes</em> —

And at that exact moment, a big ball of snarling supersoldier slams fist-first right into the thing’s metal jaw, a vibranium uppercut hard enough to knock it off one of its hinges. The jaw is now dangling by one end, like a car’s bumper after a fender bender. The jet of fire that was about to melt Peter’s face off ends up going cockeyed and blasting a duck pond instead. He hopes there weren’t any ducks paddling around in there, because there definitely aren’t now.

home

from “Lagniappe”, a novel-length TFATWS story about Bucky rescuing a dog from a dogfighting ring and accidentally rehabilitating himself along the way.

The dog didn’t have a name. That was what made him decide.

He hadn’t had a name either. Not for a long time. The electricity and heavy dizzying drugs had scraped even that last dignity out of him. Even now, years later, the person-thing he’d managed to salvage and stuff back into himself was only a messy amalgamation of bits and pieces. Secondhand stories from Steve of who he’d once been; hazy snapshot memories; habits and tastes he didn’t quite remember but had been informed he once had, and so had now re-adopted out of a weird fear of somehow getting it wrong. Getting the business of being Bucky Barnes wrong. 

He was an unabashed mess, but most of the parts HYDRA had ripped out had slowly grown back, little by little. He still lost his words from time to time, but he didn’t have to carry a knife to be able to bear a trip to the grocery store. Sometimes he still woke in distress in the night, keening and shivering from the memories, but now he could look someone in the eye and tell them no if he didn’t want to obey them. Now he could go for a walk on a frosty day without losing his breath and having to call someone to take him home. He was even making amends for the things he had done — or at least was trying to, in his bitter fumbling way.

And all of that had started with his name. His name in Steve Rogers’ mouth. “Your name is James Buchanan Barnes,” Steve had told him desperately on that helicarrier, like wedging his foot into a door that was trying to slam closed — and Bucky had still fought him, had almost killed him, but the words had worked their magic. His name had begun to reawaken him. His name.

The black dog didn’t even have that.

@philtstone, @fixing-the-boat, @possumwoodpie, @clucku, @toxiclxki, @snarkythewoecrow @writethewolvesaway @wishihadatail @shackleton2 I choose you! Your keywords are: ignore, kind, lose, silver (And anyone else who wants to play, consider yourself tagged -- sorry if I missed you!)

[rillils]

so um, so maybe i'm addicted to prompt generators. that might be a thing. hm. *screeches into the void*

rating: T wordcount: 1378 tags: fluff, crack, established relationship, bearded Steve because i've got a soft spot for him, general silliness, dorks in love, domestic bliss, aaand that's it i think

If life was fair, and not plotting to give Bucky an inappropriate boner in the middle of a crowded beach, then for once Steve might deign to look like any average guy enjoying a hot summer day with his man; rather than, you know, put to shame the rest of humankind with his luxuriant, marble-carved, sexy lumberjack league, mouth-watering presence.

But nope.

He walks out of the ocean with seafoam lapping longingly at his ankles, looking for all the world like Aphrodite and Magic Mike had hot writhing sex right there on the shore, without ever getting a single grain of sand in any uncomfortable places, and nine months later he happened, with his thick thighs and his tapered waist, and droplets of saltwater gliding down the slick planes of his torso like liquid diamonds. (Which Bucky will stoically abstain from licking off Steve’s skin. Not because he’s feeling especially strong today, no – just so they don’t end up charged with public indecency. Again.)

Steve’s face, though, as he splashes eagerly towards him, is the face of a kid who just spent the better part of an hour frolicking about in the water, flushed and animated, ecstatic, and bearing the promise of one hell of a nap sometime in the near future, out of sheer exhaustion.

He seizes Bucky by the waist with his big wet paws, and presses a victorious kiss to Bucky’s mouth, nearly causing him to drop his ice cream bar. Yes, the one Bucky bought just so he’d have an excuse to step back, and enjoy the newly familiar sight of Steve Rogers having the time of his life, in the most joyful, delightfully mundane of ways.

He should get to be this carefree every day. Bucky feels very strongly about that.

“Come back in, honey, come on,” Steve cajoles, wearing the biggest, goofiest grin Bucky’s seen on him in months. Possibly since the day he caught this very man hurtling down their driveway on a hoverboard, at breakneck speed, obviously, because the original S.G.R. device only has one setting, and that setting is called ‘STEVE YES’.

Now that was an experience. It would have taken some pretty heavy divine intervention for him not to go crashing straight into the trashcans, Bucky considers distantly – and God must have thought it wasn’t worth the hassle, if the big oaf was just going to pick himself up and try again anyways.

“In a minute,” Bucky promises him. Because, while there might be a universe out there where he’s actually capable of denying this guy something he wants, that universe is definitely not this one.

“Come on, the water’s great!” Steve presses on, his meaty hands squeezing gently at Bucky’s waist, deliciously cool against Bucky’s sun-warm skin. He’s like a big puppy begging for another treat, buzzing with energy, glowing with it from the apples of his flushed cheeks to the sparkling blue of his eyes. He is, for lack of a better word, fucking precious.

Bucky slides his free hand up Steve’s chest, metal fingers stroking appreciatively over the dark whorls of his chest-hair. It’s ridiculous, how quickly he’s ready to give in.

“At least let me finish my ice cream, first,” he says, waving the thing under Steve’s nose. He could swear Steve’s ears perk up, like he’s only just noticed the little stick in Bucky’s hand.

“Oh,” he says, and it’s a pleased kind of oh. “Can I have some?”

“’course. Here.”

Rather than passing the ice cream over to him, Bucky just lifts it to Steve’s lips, inviting him to take a bite.

Eyes crinkled with some secret pleasure, Steve leans in. The thin chocolate shell breaks with a crisp, satisfying crunch under his teeth, the creamy vanilla filling kissing his bottom lip and lingering there, helpless, until Steve collects it with a slow sweep of his tongue, never one to leave someone behind. The soft mmh he releases goes straight to Bucky’s gut, warming him from deep within.

He smiles, like he’s been trying to hold back and he just can’t help himself anymore. “Is it good?”

Steve gives him the Look – the one he gets in his eyes sometimes, when the toe-curling intensity of his gaze tells Bucky that he’s thinking about them – them in their bedroom, stumbling their way through the door with groping hands and tangled legs, laugh slipping into moan slipping back around into laugh, or on the kitchen counter, making the cabinets shake and the bag of sugar spill everywhere, or in the broom closet, caught by a mid-morning frenzy like they were last Saturday, quick and frantic and muffling each other’s moans, as if somebody might have walked in on them any second. And they’re in public, so Steve can’t do anything about it; but Bucky can tell he’s filing away all the words he wants to say and saving them for later, when he can lavish them straight onto Bucky’s sweat-slick skin.

“’S nice,” Steve rumbles, gaze dropping to Bucky’s lips for a long, deliberate moment. “But I know something better.”

A sweet shiver rolls down Bucky’s spine. “Do you, now.” He palms the side Steve’s neck, thumb circling over the delicate skin behind his earlobe, and pulls Steve to him, meeting him halfway into the kiss. Steve’s lips part gloriously for him, the hot caress of his tongue slipping the taste of chocolate and vanilla into Bucky’s welcoming mouth, spiked by a thrilling hint of salt.

A few drops of saltwater drip from Steve’s beard to land on Bucky’s bare chest, and from there trickle down his stomach, skirting his navel to soak into the waistband of his swim trunks, following a path Steve himself has traced with the tip of his tongue many a time.

Only too soon, Steve nudges his chin into Bucky’s own, pulling away, and Bucky chases his lips for one last peck before he lets go.

Steve looks back at him, his eyelashes fanning darkly, thick with moisture. His eyes come alive with his smile, gleaming with the pure, blinding joy behind it. Openly adoring, they are, in a way Bucky couldn’t perceive any more clearly if Steve were spelling it out for him.

He thinks Steve knows (how deeply, desperately) he feels the same way. He thinks he should tell Steve more often anyway, just in case.

“You gonna join me, then?” Steve asks, all sun-kissed freckles and hopeful eyes, hands giving Bucky’s hips a playful little wiggle. Silly man. Bucky would reach up and pluck the sun out of the sky for him, if he only asked.

Bucky grins, and hopes it doesn’t scandalize any onlookers, with how obscenely fond it must be. “What about my ice cream, though?”

The curl of Steve’s mouth turns unexpectedly mischievous.

“Just hold it out of the water,” he says, and with no further ado, he swoops in to hook one arm behind Bucky’s knees and hoists him up, startling an undignified squeal out of him.

“What–! ”

Steve beams down at him, an almost manic glint in his eye. “Let’s go!”

And with the enthusiasm of an excited golden retriever, he goes bounding towards the glittering waves, kicking up wet sand behind them. Bucky grabs onto his broad shoulders, partly just to feel the firm muscle there, and partly out of a last-minute sense of self-preservation.

“Steve!” He calls out, laughter ripped out of his chest, sudden and shocking, as they splash a bunch of shrieking children on their path. “Put me down, you punk-ass manchild–”

“Nope,” says Steve, relenting only once the water’s reaching up to their chests. There, he stops, swaying gently with the tide, and shifts Bucky in his arms until he’s got Bucky’s legs wrapped around his middle, gathering him close. “I’m your ride for the day.”

And how could Bucky ever object to that? The ocean dances sweet and placid around them, warm under the midday sun, and the man he loves wants him here, tucked in the circle of his arms.

“Fine,” he says, pressing the word to Steve’s lips with a slow kiss. Fine, have it your way.

His last coherent thought, before Steve licks expertly into his mouth, is that they might not escape the public indecency allegations today, after all.